Rainbow by K.L. Savage

How the hell do I get myself in these situations? Out of all the jobs as a paramedic, I find myself constantly in front of biker gangs more than regular patients. I mean, I leave Vegas and come to Baton Rouge to do a favor for my boss and end up in Ruthless Kings territory, again? Do they multiply when I blink or something?

Should have told my boss that I wouldn’t swing by his old stomping ground to help cover a staffing shortage his friend was experiencing. It seemed convenient. Stay in Baton Rouge until the storm passes, then head down to the coast where they’ll need me most.

Now I’m here, and I can’t tell if the biker looking at me wants to eat me, fuck me, or kill me.

“For a little guy, you sure know your way around bone,” Butcher grunts.

“For a guy named Butcher, you sure do complain a lot.” I press the fresh bandage against his thigh, maybe a little harder than necessary, and he growls at me.

I always liked riling up a guy bigger than me. I don’t know why. I know I don’t have a death wish, but it’s fun, and usually, bigger guys won’t pick on me. I’m sure my luck will run out soon, but until then, I’m going to poke every single bear.

And giggle as I run away.

“Okay. I’ll just say it was an accident and that no one got shot, or we’d have to report it to the police, and I don’t feel like staying here longer than necessary. Not that your hospitality isn’t… wonderful,” I add, only to sound more like a jerk.

The big guy, the one that wears the patch that says Prez, laughs as he strokes his chin with his fingers. “You’re welcome back anytime, Ryan. We appreciate your willingness to… cooperate.” He reaches into his cut pocket—I learned they weren’t vests after being corrected a few years ago—and pulls out a stack of money.

Here’s the thing about bricks of cash like this: it’s most likely illegal money. Maybe it’s drug money or blood money, but honestly? I don’t really care. I have student loan debt to pay.

I pluck the cash out of his hand and tuck it into my paramedic bag. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” I give them a mock salute and swallow down my nerves as I wade through the very large bodies covered in leather.

Now that I’m looking at them, I can’t help but wonder if they’re going to let me leave. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Perhaps they’ll want to take turns with my body and ravish me. I might be a smart man, but I’m still a man, and somehow these bikers get better looking with each state I end up in.

Ah, a man can dream, can’t he?

Lye, according to his patch on his vest—I mean, cut—opens the door for me.

Once I’m outside, I take a deep breath and don’t bother looking back. Of course, the quicker I get out of here, the better.

“Hey!”

A deep voice with a twangy edge has me freezing mid-step next to the rig, and I try not to panic. Did one of the guys see me check them out? I didn’t. I think I kept my eyes to myself. I thrust my shoulders back and open the doors to the rig to toss the medical bag inside. I close the left side and see the most handsome man I’ve seen in my entire life. I suck in a breath—no—he stole my ability to breathe, looking as good as he does.

His hair is cropped on the sides, and the middle is long with natural curls. Dark too, like melted chocolate. Like the chocolate in the middle of a molten lava cake, god, so damn good. It’s my favorite. Figures he’d have the hair to match. And the jawline? Chiseled by the gods and goddesses themselves. He’s tall, broad, and muscular. On his right arm is a traditional American tattoo of a ship, but it’s his name on his cut that has me raising my brows.

“Rainbow?” I question him, unable to hide the amusement in my voice.

He runs his fingers through his luscious locks to push the hair out of his face. That’s when I notice his eyes and the way the light is shining against them. They remind me of honey lit on fire, flames burning in the dark.

He smirks, his lips tilting to the left, revealing a dimple in his cheek.

A damn dimple!

Damn bikers, they’re out to give me dirty dreams.

“Or you can just call me Nathan,” he greets, holding out his hand in introduction.

“I think I like Rainbow more.”

“You and everyone else,” he laughs. It’s deep, guttural, and raspy. Like he hasn’t had a good laugh in a while.

A shame.

I finally slide my hand into his, right as he’s about to drop it and give up. I catch him just in time, and a shiver runs up my arm as our palms touch. I inhale a sharp breath—and apparently, I’m not the only one that feels it. His nostrils flare, and his eyes drift from me to the rig.

We hold on a beat too long, like neither of us wants to let go, but then he pulls away, breaking our connection—my damn palm tingles. I swear, my skin already misses his touch, which is insane because he isn’t the kind of person I need.

One, he’s straight.

Two, he’s a biker with a lot of straight friends who probably don’t like gay guys.

Three, I’ve been someone’s dirty secret before, and I never want to do that again.

When I came out of the closet, I lost my family. It took me a long time to come to terms with it, but I did. I’ve come too far, and I’ve lost too much to ever go back inside that lonely space.

He clears his throat. “So, you’re kind of early to be waiting for the hurricane to hit.”

“Yeah, well, my boss needed me here for a few days for his friend so, I’m kind of just waiting it out at this point. But, hopefully, it isn’t as bad as they say it will be and I won’t need to go down there at all.”

He nods and leans against the ambulance. “I understand that. I’m hoping I don’t get called down either.”

I look him up and down to try and figure out what he does. “National Guard?” He has to be a warrior of some sort, with arms like that.

“Smokejumper and firefighter,” he replies proudly.

Oh.

“That’s amazing. Quite the accomplishment. So, you’ll probably get the call too.” I’ve never been good at masking my emotions. A firefighter—hell, a smokejumper—that’s amazing. But, it’s a job only certain people can do. I hope he doesn’t see how bummed I am, but I’m happy that he has a career he can be proud of.

Not that it matters since he’s straight, but I don’t date firefighters. It’s one of my number one rules.

Firehouses are full of men who bang on their chests and hate faggots like me. While EMS is still a part of the station, I do my best to stay away from the firefighters. I’ve had my fair share of gay bashings, so I do what any man in my position would do: I stay away from the manly men who feel the need to bang on their chests.

There’s nothing worse than men who have to prove their masculinity—as if I threaten it. Of course, I don’t, but sometimes, a man is automatically on edge when I walk through the door.

“Yeah, so maybe I’ll see you around?” he asks, and his hand goes fishing in his pocket and pulls out his phone.

But then decides against it and holds his arms at his sides.

“Maybe. I need to get back to my shift before my partner starts asking questions. No one else wanted to come down here except for me. I don’t want to be gone too long before they think you tied me to the back of your bikes and drove off with me eating dirt.”

“Oh, wow. We have that bad of a rep? I really thought we turned the corner with the charity run we did last month.” He reaches behind his shoulder and scratches his back.

“Mmm, that was before they found a body with six gunshots in the swamp.”

“That wasn’t linked to us,” he growls, taking a step forward.

I cock my head to the side, planting my feet even though what I really want to do is run. He could snap my neck in two. “Does it need to be linked back to you for people to know it was you? I mean, come on, Rainbow, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened.”

He narrows his eyes at me, and those gorgeous honey pools squint into the light as he hooks his thumbs in his jeans. “And I’d love to know what you think happened since you’re such an expert.”

I roll my eyes.

“And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

I snap my mouth shut and keep my eyes forward. Wait. Why am I listening to him? He isn’t my damn keeper. “I’ll roll my damn eyes if I want, and you want to know what I know? You aren’t the first club I’ve been around, and you aren’t the first to pay me off to keep me quiet. My guess? That guy they found didn’t keep his mouth shut and pew-fucking-pew—” I gesture my hand into a gun and curl my index finger as I pull the fake trigger “—you killed him, so he never had a chance to speak.”

He rubs his hand over his mouth, trying to hide a smile before he gives in to the laughter. He bends over and slaps his hand on his knee, then holds his stomach as he comes down from his laughing fit. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He lifts his hands in the hair in surrender. “Pew-fucking-pew? Really?”

“I don’t feel like bang-bang has the same effect,” I pout. I cross my arms and pop my hip out. “Don’t make fun of me. I have drugs in here that will kill you.”

He takes another step forward. The tips of his boots scrape against mine, and he shoves me against the rig. His arms cage in my head and he bends down, his nose nearly touching mine. My heart races as I feel his breath flutter across my cheek. Now that he’s close, I can smell the coffee lingering on his breath, the spices seared into his cut and the faint hint of a plain bar of soap from a recent shower.

Those plump lips brush against my ear. “You wouldn’t make it out of the parking lot if you tried anything like that. You and I both know it, Ryan.”

A shiver runs down my spine, and I can’t decide if it’s fear or arousal. Can it be both?

“I’d try to,” I whisper.

“Why don’t I doubt that?” Then his thumb brushes my lip, and this time when my eyes roll back, it’s because the simple touch has my knees shaking. “You’re a ball of attitude. Pretty ballsy to come down here by yourself.”

“I prefer sassy.”

“Whatever you say, sassy. Sass-quatch. Sarsaparilla. Sassafras. It’s going to get you in a lot of trouble one day.”

My eyes lift from the ground to meet his. This time the sun isn’t shining against the deep browns; instead, they’re pools of wicked ink promising the bad things the world warns us about.

“Why don’t I doubt that?” I whisper the same words back to him, and his eyes fall to my lips.

His pink tongue flicks out to wet his lips and the breeze brushes over us, waving his hair out of place. The curls fall into his eyes, and he blinks as if it pulls him out of some sort of daze. Rainbow pushes off the rig and puts some much-needed space between us.

“I’ll see you around, Ryan. You’ll remember that we weren’t responsible for that guy,” he says.

I snort, and yep, I roll my fucking eyes. “Right, and the sky is green,” I tell him. “I’ll believe that when it starts raining dicks, Rainbow.” I give him the middle finger as I strut to the driver’s side, giving my ass an extra shake for some reason. I want him to look at me—but at the same time, I don’t.

I’m playing with fire, and if I’ve learned anything about firefighters, they aren’t afraid to put out someone’s flame.

And not in a good way.

The rig shakes when the other door slams shut. I jump, startled by the noise. I stare into the side mirror to see Rainbow standing there with his arms crossed and his brows bent together as he watches me pull out of the driveway, missing the row of bikes by an inch.

Jesus, that’s just what I need. Let’s run over a bunch of Harleys and sees what happens to me.I need to get my head on straight.

“Raining dicks,” I grumble to myself at how stupid that sounded.

Baton Rouge needs to be in my rearview. The sooner this storm passes, the sooner I can go home to my lonely apartment in Vegas, and the sooner I can put Rainbow out of my mind.

“Remember the rule,” I mutter to myself as I turn onto the road to head back to the station.

Shit. What was my rule again?