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“Did you have to embarrass me like that?” she finally asks.
“Weren’t you supposed to be at the doctor? Not out flirting with thugs?”
Damn. I did not mean for that to come out so harsh.
“Are you serious right now?” she asks in a low voice.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She sits there with her arms crossed over her chest, staring straight ahead. “Where’s your car?”
“The parking lot on Front Street.”
Instead of scolding her, I should have asked that question when she first climbed into the car. I execute a U-Turn and head the other way.
“Why do you care who I talk to?” she questions.
“I worry about you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
I bite back the that’s debatable retort forming in my mouth. “Their motorcycle club’s mixed up in stuff I don’t want you around.”
She makes a pfft sound. “Please. I’ve known Marcel since I was a kid.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not a kid anymore.”
“He’s too old for me anyway.”
“He’s my age.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her trying not to laugh. “You’re a little brat.”
“So I hear,” she answers dryly.
Too soon, I pull up behind her car. “Where are you headed now?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Home.”
“I won’t be back until nine or nine-thirty. Will you be all right?”
She huffs and wraps her fingers around her bag tightly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
Without answering, she steps out of the car, but before she slams it shut, she pokes her head inside. “Be careful, Liam.”
“Always, baby girl.”
She shuts the door, and I’m left staring at her.
After following her car a few miles to make sure she’s headed home, I’m no less wound up. Fact is, I’m feeling even more possessive of her. Not romantic—at least that’s what I keep telling myself—but protective. She’s mine to take care of until Vince returns home.
I can’t stand the thought of her being hurt again.
Guys like Marcel—or Teller, as his gang buddies call him—Whelan would do nothing but hurt her.
Because this is such a small town, not even five minutes later, I come up on Marcel and his bro on their bikes, heading east. Before I realize what I’m doing, I flick on the lights and siren.
Unprofessional? Probably.
Do I care? Not really. Not when it comes to Bree’s safety.
Marcel taps his fingers against the side of his leg as I approach. His buddy straight-up ignores me, which is fine. He’s not the one who put his hands on Bree.
“Afternoon, Officer,” Marcel greets me in a smug way that says he’d been expecting a confrontation.
I’d hate to disappoint him.
This is another first for me. I’ve never let my personal life interfere with my professional life so much.
“We’re in a bit of a hurry, so unless you’re gonna write me a ticket—”
“Where you headed?” Standard cop question.
“Home.”
“Where you coming from?”
He slips his helmet off and swings his leg over the bike. I don’t step back, place my hand on my gun, or anything else to indicate I think he’s a threat. Because he’s not, as far as I’m concerned.
Not to me.
Bree? Definitely.
“Do we really need to do the cop and criminal routine? Just say what you want to say, Liam.” He stands there with a bored look stretched across his face and his hands at his sides.
“Fine. I know what your motorcycle club’s into, Marcel. Stay the fuck away from Bree.”
He cocks his head and his mouth settles into a smirk. “Funny, she told me she was single.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Yeah, she mentioned you’ve been babysitting her while Vince is out of town.”
After the talk we had the other night, is that how Bree thinks of me? As her babysitter? “Not your concern. Stay away from her.”
The punk has the nerve to snicker. “Chill the fuck out, officer. She’s a friend from high school. That’s all.”
“Yeah, I know all about how you guys treat your female friends.” I spent time in gang task force, and even though Marcel’s MC doesn’t have the worst reputation in the area, they’re certainly not the innocent, motorcycle-loving, good guys they want you to believe they are. I don’t need her deciding to spice up her life by attending one of their clubhouse parties. Bree shouldn’t be anywhere near them.
His eyes darken and he pushes into my space, but I stay right where I am and stare him down. “You don’t know fuck about me or my club,” he says through clenched teeth. “I asked Bree to talk to my little sister about college. So back the fuck off.”
Sister. That’s right. Now I remember he has a much younger sister he’s crazy protective of. My gaze flicks to his buddy, who’s standing next to his bike silently watching us. “I forgot about your sister. Heidi, right? Bree used to babysit her?” Maybe I don’t have to rip his arms off today.
He takes a few steps back. “Yeah. She’s thinking of switching majors or transferring and I thought Bree could help her out.”
“She’s in college? Jesus, I feel old.”
Marcel lets out a short humorless laugh. “Tell me about it.” He tilts his head to the side, studying me for a second. “You two together or not?”
And just like that, I’m ready to kick his ass again. “Not your business.”
Marcel rolls his eyes while Blake walks over to join our conversation.
“What’s up with Bree? She seemed kinda timid,” Blake says. Unlike his friend, he doesn’t say it to rile me up. He seems genuinely concerned about her.
Should I spill Bree’s personal business? No.
Would I feel better if more people were looking out for her? Yes.
Marcel straightens up. “She said she had a bad breakup. Some guy hassling her?”
“I have it covered.”
“I’m sure you do, Officer.” He glances at his buddy, who gives him a subtle nod. “Bree was always really good to my sister. If handling this guy’s outside your jurisdiction, let us know. We’ll be happy to help.”
I know exactly what the two outlaws mean by handling him.
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The scolding Liam gave me for talking to two old friends was enough to confirm his lack of romantic interest. The sooner I accept he’ll never see me as anything other than Vince’s little sister, the better. I’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.
Pulling into the driveway knowing Liam won’t be home for hours is a drag. I glance at my bag of tea, remembering my idea t
o make homemade iced tea this afternoon and the simple plan cheers me up.
Celebrate the little victories.
That was one of the pieces of advice we received in group therapy today. I wanted to stamp it on my arm, so I wouldn’t forget.
I keep myself busy until eight when I finally plop down to watch television. Every little creak and noise in the house freaks me out, so I crank the volume way up.
“Bree!”
Heart pounding I turn my head and find Liam in the entryway. I grab the remote and mute the television. “Shit, you scared me.”
“Sorry, baby girl.”
“You’re home early.”
He finishes taking off his boots before answering. “I missed you.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he says, dropping into the opposite corner of the couch. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time today.”
Wow. I never expected to hear an apology from Liam. I shift a little closer to him. “You embarrassed me and made me feel like a little kid.”
His eyes close briefly and for a few seconds I’m lost staring at the face that is still one of the most beautiful I’ve ever known. Not perfect. But perfect to me. Familiar. He opens his eyes and there’s a hardness burning in the deep brown depths that I don’t remember being there when we were younger.
My heart thuds as a slow slide of awareness shimmers over my skin. Why do I have to want this man who doesn’t want me? Never has.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was…worried.”
Whoa. I expected another reprimand. “Thank you. Just so you know, if they were two strangers I wouldn’t have stopped to talk to them.”
“Good.”
“How’s your finger?”
A smile kicks up at the corners of his mouth. He holds his hand up, waving it for me to see he’s replaced the big gauze wrap with a normal-sized Band-Aid. “Honestly, better than I thought it would be.”
He drapes his other arm over the back of the couch, leaving his fingers a few inches from my face. I tilt my head, resting my cheek against the back of his hand.
“Tired, baby girl?” he asks.
“A little.”
“How was group?”
“Intense.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs as he slides his hand out from under my cheek and runs his fingers through my hair.
