Garrett’s Destiny

Chapter One

by

Rebecca Zanetti

Garrett Kayrs settled his bulk in the booth, reaching for a glass of beer from the iced pitcher on the table. Raucous laughter poured throughout the diner as motorcycle clubs converged on the way to a festival. Not one he and his brothers were attending, but they were along for the first part of the ride to camp for a weekend.

“Would you stop frowning?” Sam Kyllwood snapped from across the booth, his green eyes showing irritation.

“I’m not,” Garrett growled, frowning at his friend.

Honor Kyllwood, Sam’s mate, slapped him on the arm. They’d been mated for over three years, and she was definitely one of the best-natured people Garrett had ever met.

“You two behave. Garrett, I’m sure you’ll find somebody to play with when we get to the campground and, Sam, give him a break. It’s the first time we’ve gone on a ride in years that he hasn’t had a female on the back of his bike. He’s lonely.”

Sam cut the pretty woman a look, his powerful body protecting her since he’d positioned her next to the window. “The last woman he dated tried to rob you—at knifepoint.”

Honor chortled. “Yeah, but I kicked her ass. Those training sessions have gone well.”

Garrett hid his grin. She was correct. He’d been searching for the right female to ride behind him for years, consumed by the quest, and he hadn’t found her. Prophecy claimed she’d be dangerous, even deadly, and would probably try to kill him.

It was time to get on with it.

The beast inside him, one that had slumbered beneath the surface for so long, was now stretching awake. Pissed off and ready to kill. At least now he had a job to do when they arrived at the campground.

The outside door opened, and a vision walked in. Well, more like the girl next door. She wore a frilly green blouse, white capri jeans, and sexy tan wedges that showed off her dainty pink toenails. It was autumn, and she should have been wearing a jacket. A slouchy bag looked heavy over her fragile shoulder. Her auburn hair curled down her back, and an air of pure irritation emanated from her.

Looking like an indignant kitten, she stomped right into the middle of the diner, next to Garrett’s table, not seeming to realize she’d walked into a den of wolves.

The man behind her definitely noticed. Young, slick brown hair, pressed beige pants, and thousand-dollar loafers on his feet. He looked around at the various motorcycle club members sitting in different areas of the diner, all hungry, all possibly dangerous.

“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered.

The kitten turned, her hands going to her waist. The scent of something fresh and sweet wafted from her. What was that?

“You just don’t get it.” She leaned toward the man, anger turning her peaches-and-cream complexion into cherry-blossom pink. “The answer was no.” She swept out her arms. “The answer is no.” She clapped her hands. “The answer will always and forever, until the time of the rapture, be no.” She threw her arms up. Then she shook her head. “I quit.”

The man reared back. “You can’t quit.”

“I just did,” she sighed. “I’m out. I’m not finding what I need in this job anyway.” She nodded, her shoulders stiff in the flimsy blouse. “I’ll send your father a nice email later today tendering my resignation. Please extend my gratitude to him for the employment opportunity.”

She turned away from him. The man made the mistake of grabbing her arm.

Garrett was up in a second, towering over them both. “Let. Go.”

The man jerked back as if he’d been punched in the gut. A slight gasp came from the kitten. Probably one of pure terror. Oh, Garrett knew what she saw. He was six and a half feet of raw muscle in a torn and dirty black motorcycle club jacket, with shaggy hair to his shoulders, a couple of bruises across his jaw, and cracked knuckles he hadn’t bothered to heal after a fight the night before.

He cut her a look and then rocked back on his heels.

Her crystal-clear blue eyes were full of delight… and wonder.

“You,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his whiskered jaw. Her tongue darted out to lick her luscious bottom lip. “It’s you.” She tilted her head, adoration in her liquid gaze.

The touch shot straight to his balls, making him throb in a way he hadn’t in years.

He growled low.

Then she withdrew. “No.”

He didn’t know what he was denying, but he didn’t want her to stop looking at him like that. Nobody in his entire life had looked at him like that. With adoration, need, and… hope? More than anything, he wanted that touch again.

The blush blossomed into full-on rose, and she clapped her hand against her bag.

“I, ah, um, I’m sorry.” She frowned. “That was, well, that was…” She looked around, no doubt noticing that every gaze was focused on her. She shrugged delicate shoulders and looked up at him as if forcing herself to meet his gaze. Black lashes, natural and thick, enhanced those incredible eyes. “I apologize.”

“Let’s go,” the man said, backpedaling toward the door.

She frowned at him. “No. Go away, Aster. I’ll find my own way home.”

Aster looked around, paling. Then the asshole left the kitten in the den of wolves.

Her hands fluttered together. “Oh. Well.”

She caught sight of the empty row of barstools at the counter and started to move that way.

“No.” Garrett angled his body just enough to stop her. He was at least a foot taller and a hundred or two pounds heavier than she was, basically making him a solid wall. “How do you know me?”

There were many bounties on his head, but there was no way the kitten was a bounty hunter. He could read people well enough to know that.

She glanced down at his monstrous boots and took a deep breath before looking up and meeting his gaze.

“I don’t know you.” Then she smiled, and sure as shit, it was like the sun had appeared over the mountains after the rainy season. “That was weird, and I apologize. There’s no way I could know you, correct?”

“Right.” He grasped her arm, careful not to bruise her. “You’re sitting with us.”

“No, I—”

He nudged her into the booth, putting his body between her and the rest of the bikers in the place.

It was time for some answers.

---

Well, she’d just gone and done it now, hadn’t she?

Dessie settled into the booth, her entire right side warmed by the man sitting next to her. Make that the formidable block of muscle sitting next to her.

Would it be weird if she asked him to remove the tinted glasses covering his eyes?

“You’re the highwayman a’comin,” she whispered.

“I like poetry as well.”

Why did that sound like a threat from him? How could he be real? He couldn’t be. It wasn’t really him.

When he lifted one finger, a waitress came out of nowhere so fast her thighs hit the table.

“Yes?” she asked breathlessly, her ample breasts straining against her black tank top.

He didn’t seem to notice but instead turned his head slightly to Dessie. “Order.”

She gulped. Order? She didn’t have enough money for lunch as well as a ride home.

“I’m, um, I’m not hungry.”

Her stomach rumbled, but quietly enough she was sure nobody heard it.

Now he turned his head all the way toward her, and even through those glasses, she could feel his intent. His hair was dark, with some natural highlights that showed he spent time in the sun, and his facial features were rock-solid angles that tempted a girl to run her fingers across the masculine bone structure.

“Don’t lie to me again.”

Her body wanted to back away from him, but she was already pressed against the windowsill and wall.

“Order, or I’ll do it for you.”

Maybe she could hitchhike back to the motel or just leave her meager possessions there. She had everything she needed in her overlarge bag.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger, no onions or pickles. Thank you.” It was a diner, and she’d learned that they usually had burgers, so it was a safe bet. Besides, she loved cheeseburgers.

They were a warm new comfort that probably would go straight to her thighs, but who cared?

“Drink?” His words were clipped.

Her unfortunate choice of words earlier had apparently angered him. Or, at the very least, irritated him. She had a feeling that he was only allowing her to see his emotions because he didn’t care if she knew he was not happy.

“What’s your name?”

The question popped out of her before she could stop it.

He didn’t so much as twitch, instead keeping her captive with his gaze. If anything, more tension rolled off him.

“Order. A. Drink.”

Her knees trembled, and her breath quickened. Once again her body reacted without conscious thought. These feelings were new and all for him. She didn’t appreciate the sensations at the moment.

She shifted her weight, trying to find a comfortable position. “You’re very bossy.” While she’d tried soda and didn’t much like it, water wasn’t appealing to her in this moment.

Apparently, his patience had ended. “Bring another mug. She’ll have beer.”

The waitress sprinted away. Probably so she could return quickly. At least if they poured from their pitcher, she wouldn’t be charged for the drink.

“That would be lovely,” Dessie said primly to nobody in particular.

His grin was slow and more devastating than a train crash. The smile warmed her more, and she was grateful he didn’t look so scary any longer. If being polite charmed him, she’d draw on every etiquette lesson she’d ever learned.

She finally broke eye contact and looked across the booth. Another overlarge man sat across the worn wooden table, and he also wore a leather jacket. His hair was black, his eyes green, and his expression tense. Next to him sat a truly beautiful woman with tawny skin, rope-twisted black hair, and sparkling dark eyes. She had curves Dessie would love to possess.

“Hi,” Dessie said, focusing on the woman, sensing she was the safest person in the booth, if not the entire diner.

“Hi.” The woman tilted her head, curiosity in her gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Dessie. Yours?”

The woman glanced at the man next to her, and he barely nodded. “I’m Honor, and this is Sam.”

Had she just asked permission to give their names? Dessie frowned. These people were obviously on guard, and her touching the guy next to her as if they were old friends was a mystery they apparently didn’t like. Why would they?

A shuffling sound alerted her, and she looked around to see several of the patrons rearranging themselves in this half of the diner. She liked patterns, and she quickly discerned this one.

The biggest and meanest-looking of the leather-clad men were now all seated closer to them. Surrounding them in booths and the closest tables—forming a wall of protection around them. How intriguing.

She noted on the back of their jackets the outline of a large grizzly bear, sharp teeth flashing beneath the word Grizzlies.

“Why do you all have matching jackets?”

Even Honor wore a black leather jacket. She played with a stunning diamond engagement ring on her finger.

“We belong to the Grizzlies, which is a motorcycle club.” Then her gaze narrowed. “You’ve never heard of a motorcycle club?”

“No.” Dessie shrugged. “I haven’t been in California very long.”

The woman’s gaze cleared, and she barely nodded. What was going on with the almost nods? Perhaps that was just how Honor and Sam communicated. Or maybe Sam couldn’t speak.

Dessie looked directly at him, wanting to shrink beneath his sharp gaze. “Are you mute?”

Somebody coughed in the booth behind her, but she didn’t turn.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my. Is that a rude question? If so, I do apologize. I didn’t mean anything hurtful.”

Sam blinked. Twice.

“No. I’m not mute.” He drew a phone from his pocket and texted with one hand, not looking away from her.

“Told Bear to skip the diner, and he’s covered on all sides.”

“Good,” Garrett said. “His new enforcers are doing well. I don’t feel so bad leaving him now.”

Dessie reminded herself that she was strong and free, but these men would probably only answer a limited number of questions. So she wouldn’t ask about the mysterious Bear. Instead, she steeled her shoulders before partially turning in the cramped booth to face the man taking up all the oxygen.

For some reason, she could barely breathe. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t know?”

He hadn’t stopped watching her. Not for a second.

She shook her head.

“Garrett.”

Then he waited.

Why was he waiting?

“That’s a nice name,” she hastened to say. Was there some sort of social convention she was missing here? It was entirely possible.

“Thank you.” The amusement had returned. She definitely enjoyed it better than his earlier irritation. “Now how about you tell me who you are and how you know me.”

Two waitresses arrived with a mug and all of their food. Somehow, Dessie’s meal was already prepared as well. She waited until the women stopped fawning over the two men before reaching for a fry.

Fries were the best invention she’d discovered lately.

“My name is Dessie. I am now a freelance reporter, and I do not know you. At all. I didn’t even know your name until you gave it to me.”

Unable to help herself, she reached for the cheeseburger.

Garrett did the same, and his cheeseburger was a lot bigger than hers.

“Very well, Dessie. Eat your lunch. Then you and I are going outside for a little chat.”

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