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And as of now, Tatiana Tate consumed those thoughts.
With the music up loud, and thatvery special skill setI’d teased her about, she hadn’t heard me approach, so I was able to just observe.
She was…beautiful.
Objectively.
Not an opinion, but a fact.
Her deep brown skin was flawless, only marred by the occasional ink. High cheekbones, full lips, big brown eyes… She just looked so damnsoft, so pleasing to touch. All that velvety skin was poured over the kind of curves that made it tough to remember—although I was my own man now, I still had a personal mission.
A mission that meant Tati should be off limits, even though every damn day made me question that a little further.
Look at her.
Even the way she pushed a handful of her long braids over her shoulder, then seemingly changed her mind to pull them up into a knot was sexy. What wasthatabout? And that energy she carried with her, like she wasn’t scared of shitbecauseshe wasn’t scared of shit. She walked around like she was the boss of everything because shewas. Second only to Blue, who had all the respect in the world for her.
That shit was beyond attractive.
Intoxicating, if you got too close to that magnetic fire she put off.
She was just so fucking comfortable in her own skin, and hell... I wanted to be comfortable in her skin too.
“Do you think I don’t know you’re standing there?” she asked, not looking up from where she’d been staring at the screen of her laptop.
So she knows how to be watched, too.
“As a matter of fact, Ididthink you didn’t know I was here,” I said, finally breaching the doorway into the kitchen. “You seemed like you were vibing with your music. I didn’t want to kill it.”
Her hands went to the computer, tapping a key that made the music suddenly switch off. “If that was really the case, you would have just left. But instead I have to look at you.”
I sauntered up to the counter, leaning down across from her. “Now webothknow looking at me is a privilege, don’t we?”
“Here we go,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as she turned her attention back to her screen. “Brandon is on his way over. So if you’re reconsidering killing me for knowing your secret, make it quick.”
”You don’t know my secret.” I laughed, moving around the kitchen in search of breakfast. I could smell it and saw the empty plate next to her computer. If Blue was coming, she probably hadn’t made it only for herself.
“It’s in the oven,” she said, her tone full of attitude after she’d watched me peek around. “And what do you mean, I don’t know your secret? You told me last night—you used to be a spy, an assassin, whatever. Just as I thought.”
“And whatever you were, whatever it is you used to do, Alicia is connected too,” she added, smirking.
“All that is true,” I agreed, opening the oven to find a pan stacked with sausages, pancakes, and hashbrowns.
What Ididn’tsay was that what she knew was the polite part. Hired guns, abductions, counter-espionage—most people had been exposed enough via TV and movies that it was easy for them to swallow.
But that stuff was only a fraction; the parts people could actually stomach.
“Don’t get too excited about the food,” she told me, as I started piling stuff on a plate. “It was all frozen. I get it from a girl who does precooked meals as a little business to pay for school. She’s inked.”
I frowned, looking up. “One of thePredatorsdoes frozen home cooked meals as a business? I thought being aPredatorwasthe business.”
”You thought wrong.” She shrugged. “We can hire some people, yes. But everybody isn’t into everything we do. Some people just join for the community. The majority ofPredatorsare actually ninety-nine percenters.”
I raised an eyebrow. “A ninety-nine percenter. What is that?”
“Ninety-nine percent of people who are interested in bikes, are just that—interested in bikes. They aren’t about the...Sons of Anarchytype stuff. They just like to see it on TV.”
I grinned. “And you are?”
