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Cooper sat relaxed in his pickup, Sair pulled close to his side as he drove through town. And the little minx laughed at him because he made sure he drove through town, around the town circle, and then to the grocery store on the other side of the small town before he stopped.
“Hey, everyone needs a clear view,” he told her with a laugh as he helped her out of the truck, keeping her carefully in front of him as the black sedan drove past, too damned slow.
He hustled her into the store and gave her the list for the bar. It was a list he and Jake had pulled out of their asses to make up an excuse to take her shopping. Items like celery, pepper, salt—bullshit items they had plenty of.
“Let me make sure Jake didn’t forget anything.” He pulled his cell phone out, hit Jake’s number. Counted rings. When Jake answered, he closed the phone in a signal to Jake that there was trouble and smiled to Sair. “He must be busy.”
Jake would be getting real busy right about now. He’d be calling every damned bouncer the bar hired, twelve total, and tonight every damned one of them would be on shift. Three would be at that store before Cooper and Sair left.
He was a damned paranoid man. The men who worked for him were just as paranoid. Loners. Soldiers without a war to fight because their bodies refused to do what they had to do now. They were his family. And now, they were Sarah’s family.
He wandered through the store with her, his arm over her shoulders, or at her waist. He glared at the men who looked at her, and the few who stopped and talked were treated to a possessive Cooper. Something they had evidently never seen, because he caught the smirks.
Assholes.
He whispered dirty jokes in her ear to watch her blush, and stopped and talked to a few of the women that he knew would make good friends for his Sair. Women who were all safely married, happily married, and would of course tell her how great and wonderful monogamy could be.
He had a plan. Cooper always had a plan. But first, he was going to take care of the damned yahoos out in that dark sedan.
He was taking Sair through checkout when Casey, Iron, and Turk entered the store. Three ex-Rangers, soldiers who looked just as damned mean as they actually were.
“Hey, boss, Jake said don’t forget to get change.” Turk’s voice was a deadly growl as he moved to the register. Dressed in black jeans and a black shirt, unruly black hair falling to his collar, Turk’s steely, cold blue eyes glanced at the store owner, Mark, before turning back to Cooper.
“Jake didn’t call you,” Sarah murmured.
“Jake has a weird sense of humor, sugar,” Cooper drawled as he pulled a hundred from his billfold. “Can you give me change, Mark?”
“I can, Cooper.” Mark was no man’s fool. The few times these three men had run with Cooper, there had always been trouble.
Like the time that damned motorcycle gang had tried to hold up his bar two years ago. Cooper, Turk, Iron, and Casey had walked in and cleared the place without a single broken window. There had been some broken bones and a few concussions, but these four men hadn’t been the ones suffering them.
Mark packed the rolls of quarters in a plastic bag and handed them to Cooper. “You take care, Coop.” He nodded before smiling at Sarah. “And you too, Sarah. Keep this boy on the straight and narrow.”
She wasn’t Miss Sarah anymore. She was Sarah, Cooper’s woman. Damn, Cooper could almost feel his chest swelling with pride.
“Hey, boss, did you see that new Harley that drove through town earlier?” Casey eased in beside Sarah, Iron was in front of them, and Turk pulled up the rear. “She was a beauty with all that chrome.”
Cooper kept up with the conversation, and the sedan. It eased out of the parking lot, windows tinted, but he could still glimpse three males inside. The two in the front seat wore dark glasses.
As they reached the truck, Cooper shot Iron a hard look. The other man nodded his head. He’d checked the truck and it was clean.
“Come on, darlin’.” He helped Sarah into the seat via the driver’s side before moving in beside her.
“You headin’ to the bar?” Turk grumbled. His brown eyes were flat and hard, his scarred face resembling a junkyard dog that had won too many fights at too high a pri
ce.
“Heading that way, Turk.”
Turk nodded. “See you there.”
The other three men lifted their hands before loping to their motorcycles. Harleys. Bad-boy motorcycles. Cooper liked his truck.
He started the truck and eased out of the parking lot. Turk and Casey were at the lead, Iron riding behind.
Sarah was too damned quiet. The ride from the store to the bar was hell. Because as he pulled into the parking lot, he knew what the hell had to be done.
She wanted trust. Shit. He didn’t like this part.
