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“De. . .de. . .delivering,” the man stutters, his hands around Dash’s arm trying to pull his away from his throat.
“Delivering what?” Dash asks as he reluctantly let’s go of the man, who quickly takes a couple of steps away as he points to the floor.
“Yo. . .you crazy” he states as he wheezes for breath. Dash leans down to pick up the square box. He places his hand in his pocket and pulls out a wad of notes that he holds out to the man.
“Just being careful,” he says, “here, take this as an apology for the mix-up.” The man approaches wearily, snatching the money from Dash’s hand as he hurries down the path. I see Dash lift his chin slightly, but then he turns his head, obscuring my vision. Well, one thing is for certain, he sure has good hearing.
“Did you order anything?” he asks.
“No.” His body is tense which outlines his muscular arms, only now that I am seeing him standing before me do I see that he has a Kutte on, a Kutte that has the name Wolverine MC on the back with the name Dash below. He belongs to a motorcycle club! Alaska, are you mad? I ask myself, but thinking at the peril I’m in, I doubt that he will be more danger to me than my stalker already is.
This man is at least a head taller than me, something that I don’t usually find, and his body is like a sculpture of muscle and tattoos. His midnight black hair complementing his tanned skin. His beautiful green eyes shine in the light from outside. He walks back inside and shuts the door as he lifts the box and proceeds to open it.
I tense at his audacity, but then remember that even though I haven’t told him that I agree to him helping me, I have kind of told him the whole story and silently agreed to it. I wait to see what is inside the box, still clutching the spray as if that would save me if this man before me decided to attack. He reminds me of a dangerous animal the way he moves, stealthily.
The way he is glaring at the box tells me that he doesn’t like what is inside, whatever it is I don’t want it, and just want him to throw it away. He lifts a card from inside and I see him tense, his gaze lifting to mine, his eyes traveling over my body and instead of fear it excites me the way I can nearly feel the touch of that gaze.
He takes a step towards me and stops, his eyes intense as they return to mine. “What do you do for a living?” his question seems to be forced out of stiff lips. What does what I do for a living have to do with anything?
“I’m a model.” The tick is back in his cheek. Why would me being a model anger him?
“Fuck,” he grunts as he turns and opens the door, still holding the box and walks out closing the door behind him. I stand here surprised. What just happened?
DASH 3
Of all the professions, my mate has to be a model, a fucking model. The thought of all the assholes staring at her in magazines or while she walks down a runway has my anger ready to explode. Lifting the card, I look at the image on it again, Alaska is on it smiling at the camera in a fucking bikini that doesn’t do much to hide her body. There is no way I will be able to hold my shit together if I see some bastard looking at my woman.
I slip the card into the inside pocket of my jacket as I close the box of heart chocolates and crush it in my hands. Whoever this fucker is that is sending her chocolates he better start finding himself a different hobby or he won’t be breathing for much longer.
Taking in a deep breath, I try to calm the anger that is rushing through me, I can hear Alaska muttering to herself from where I’m standing down the driveway. I would smile at how annoyed she sounds at my leaving so abruptly if I wasn’t so angry at the fact that she shows off her body for money. A wolf is possessive of its mate. Having men looking at her is not going to work for me.
Growling, I turn and stalk back up the drive. Opening the door, I surprise Alaska just as she’s bending down to pick something from the floor. Her ass in full view which has me instantly hard, the woman is perfect in every sense of the word but as a model she knows it. She snaps up, turning she frowns and then points a finger at me.
“What is wrong with you?” she asks as she turns to face me, “first you nearly killed the delivery guy then you storm out of here like the hounds of hell are after you.” Well one thing is clear my woman has a temper on her.
“You will not model again.” At my statement, her expression changes to a surprised frown.
“What? Why not?”
“If you don’t want sick assholes to stalk you, then you shouldn’t be provoking them.” I know that I am being unreasonable, it’s not her fault that whoever is after her is obsessed but the idea of the men looking at her has me blinded with jealousy. Jealousy that I have never felt before with anyone or with anything.
She raises her hand and points towards the door, “Get out.” Her voice sounds constricted, as if she’s trying not to scream.
“No,” I state and see her eyes widen. There is an element of fear in them which I didn’t mean to provoke. “You are in danger, and I will not leave you when you need my help.” I point behind me, “the box you received were chocolates, and this…” I pull the card out of my pocket and turn it towards her. “You see why modelling has attracted this asshole?” I see her shocked expression and then horror.
“Those photos haven’t been released yet?” She points towards the card when I frown at her statement. “Whoever is doing this I must know.” She starts to pace in agitation and I would like nothing better than to take her in my arms and show her that she doesn’t need to worry because I am here now to keep anyone away that even thinks about harming her.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean that, that was a studio photo shoot, and no one would have those photos besides the photographer and the client as they haven’t been released yet.” That means that it could be someone she knows, and that is worse because those are the ones that are harder to root out.
“I will need a list of everyone you know.” And there better not be any boyfriends in that list or they will find themselves without a much-needed appendage. “And what their connection is to you.”
“There are so many people.”
“Doesn’t matter, add everyone and we will look into everyone and see if there is anyone suspicious.”
“Who are we?” she asks with a frown.
