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“While staring at my backside? Wipe the drool off your chin.” She shook her head. “I knew you were a creep.”
Great, I loved a feisty woman.
Just walk away, brother.
I approached her. “Yeah, but I’m all you got,” I shot back with a wry grin. Stupidly, I inhaled her perfume. I liked it more than I should.
Retreat, retreat! The woman has a kid, man.
She rolled her eyes. “What’s your name?”
I gave her my real name. “Zander.” She didn’t seem the type to know what a motorcycle club was all about. If she heard I was a biker, she’d probably grab the kid and run. Then the security dude eyeing me suspiciously might call the cops. I didn’t need that kind of drama today.
“Well, Zander, I appreciate your help.” She backed out of the SUV, grabbed her little girl, and put her in the car seat.
“Sure thing. And what’s your name?” Again, my gaze dropped to her lower half as I waited patiently for her name. It was one of the finest asses I’d seen in a long time. Her leggings defined each cheek masterfully, highlighting the round globes. My hands tingled with the need to squeeze her flesh, to cop a feel to find out if her ass was as firm as it appeared.
“Stop drooling,” she muttered, getting into the car and slamming the door closed.
Christ. Why couldn’t I control myself around a beautiful woman?
And she didn’t give me her name. Why it annoyed me so much, I didn’t know.
Ten minutes later, after a brief chat with the airport security dude for taking so long, we were on the road. I rolled my window partly down, earning me a questioning look from Sugar.
I needed fresh air. Unknown texter’s perfume was suffocating me.
“There, the friend’s address is in the GPS, as you requested, sir.” Sugar saluted me.
I glared at her. Sir? Why the fuck was everyone giving me shit?
Because I was in a crabby mood, no doubt. I seriously needed today to be over with to get back to feeling like my old self.
Tina and Sugar talked with the woman. I tuned out the conversations going on inside the cage. I didn’t want to know anything about this woman or her daughter.
The truth was, I knew I might like them. It was better to not engage. After I dropped them off, I’d never see them again.
I turned onto the narrow street. Cars lined both sides of the road. In the older neighborhoods, there was only parallel parking. When I attended college here in St. Paul, I lived in a house with five other guys. During winter, streets like this were a pain in the ass because of the snowplow schedule. Any car parked on the wrong side got a ticket. As a cocky college kid, I had ignored the plan, raking up a huge bill. I had to mooch food off my buddies for an entire month because I was broke paying those fines.
Yeah, I didn’t miss living in the city.
Sugar gasped. “What’s with all the cop cars?”
I checked the address on the GPS. The yellow crime scene tape surrounded the friend’s house.
“Oh my God, that’s Lisa’s!” the woman cried.
“Everyone, stay here. I’ll check it out.” I parked the cage and got out.
As I stalked toward a policeman, my arm was grabbed. I glanced at my terrified passenger. “I told you to stay in the car.”
“This is my friend’s house. I’m coming.”
An officer guarding the house observed us. “You can’t get through.”
“This is our friend’s house. What happened?” I asked.
“A break-in, from what neighbors reported.”
