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Beast places his forearms on the counter, leaning toward me. Towering over me. He’s huge, but given his road name, that’s no surprise. Whatdoescatch me off guard is the way his eyes take me in. The rich, mahogany irises are so deep, it feels like I could fall into them and tumble forever, just like Alice down the rabbit hole. There’s something in his expression, a quiet watchfulness, that has me thinking he’s smarter than people give him credit for.
As hard as I try to stay out of MC business, I can’t fully avoid hearing things. And the bits and pieces of salacious gossip that get tossed around Haven are too memorable to forget. For example, I know he’s ex-military. People refer to him as the club muscle. A big, dumb giant, whose sole value is his brute strength. But ‘people’ are stupid. It’s clear there’s more behind those eyes than they know.
Beast grunts, slapping his towel down on the bar top. He strides out from behind the bar in a few huge steps, heading in my direction. My heart pounds in apprehension, but the look in his eye has a totally different effect.
If I have to put you over my shoulder and haul you outside, I’ll do it. I’m not looking to get shot, but maybe getting my hands on that sweet body of yours might be worth it.
Something inside of me, something buried under years and years of loneliness, rears its head as I remember his threat. It’s been so long since a man touched me that getting tossed over his wide shoulder might be enough to make me combust. His eyes are fiery as he stalks over, coming to stand behind me.
I peer at him over my shoulder, but refuse to turn around. I will not make it easier for him, that’s for damn sure. A jolt of electricity curls around my spine as I feel his chest against my back, warm and unyielding.
“Have it your way, sweetness.” His voice, deeper and darker than the depths of the Cape Fear River, reverberates in his chest, the vibrations echoing in my own. With that, my stool wobbles, rising in the air. Frantically, my fingers scrabble to get hold of the bar, but it’s too slippery. The only thing I can grasp is Beast’s forearms. I cling to them, wince, and brace myself to be dumped on the hard floor… but I don’t plummet to the beer-sticky boards. The world spins around me and I’m suddenly moving, my feet swinging freely.
It takes me a heartbeat to realize that Beast is carrying me, stool and all, out the front door. “Hey!” I yell indignantly. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t grunt like it’s a struggle, either. He doesn’t even stop to open the door, just lands a kick below the handle, sending the whole thing swinging.
Beast sets me down in the gravel. I feel his breath whisper over my hair, muttered words barely audible. “I’ll help. If I can. But don’t test me again.”
The warm cage of his arms disappears, and a chill hits me. Whether it’s from the early morning air or the loss of his warmth, I can’t say for sure. What I can be sure of is that the sex-starved woman inside of me wantsmore.Hell, I don’t even care if it’s just more ominous threats. If testing him is what gets those arms around me again, he’s provided poor inducement to get me to behave.
Rattler follows Beast and me outside. He tosses Beast a set of keys. The bigger man turns back and locks the door to the bar. Rattler smirks, sidling up in front of me. He has my jacket in one hand, my purse in the other. He steps between my knees, his thick thighs spreading my legs. I stare at him, wide-eyed and locked in place, almost disbelieving my own senses.
The absolute audacity, the fearless brass balls of these two. Either they aren’t worried about Clint, or they’re fantastic at hiding it. Rattler sure as hell isn’t showing any signs of apprehension.Farfrom it.
He takes his time, standing there between my legs, eyes locked on mine. I can smell whiskey on his breath as he wraps his arms around my shoulders and situates my leather jacket so it hangs like a cape. His beard brushes my hair, giving it a gentle tug that sends my scalp tingling. He lifts my hair out from under the jacket, letting it flow freely down my back.
That would be enough to melt any woman, at least, any woman that’s as hard up as me. But does he step back? Of course not. The man has the absolute audacity tosmellme. It’s not just like one little whiff that could be misconstrued, either. No, Rattler turns his face and runs his nose along the column of my neck, inhaling my scent like a man starved of oxygen.
“Can’t have you catching cold on our watch, sweetness,” Rattler murmurs, giving my jacket one final adjustment. With that, he steps back,winks at me, and kicks his leg over a massive Harley. It roars to life underneath him. A second later, Beast revs his bike and they’re off, riding into the inky black night.
“What the fuck…?” I mutter, realizing I’m still sitting in front of a closed bar, all alone on the side of the road. Dazed and confused, I dig my keys out of my purse and run for my Fiat. I start the engine and peel out of the lot, leaving my headlights off. Is it stupid? Absolutely. But how the hell else am I supposed to follow them?
I speed down the back road until I see tail lights, then follow at a safe distance. The roads are completely deserted, so it’s easy to keep them in my sights. Eventually, they pull off into an older neighborhood.
“Huh,” I mutter to myself. This really isn’t what I expected. After seeing the way Clint and the other Chaos riders choose to live, I just assumed they all like playing trash-pirates with their houses. Despite their age, the houses all seem well maintained. The streets are clean and there are kids’ toys in half of the yards.
Rattler and Beast pull into a driveway about a hundred yards ahead of me. Heart pounding, I kiss the curb and cut my engine. Bright light beams out across the street as the garage door lifts. Shadows dance on the pavement as they move inside, but a second later, the light disappears.
Well… now what? I had precisely nothing planned out when I followed them. I just didn’t want to get left out of the loop. I thought they were going to have a chat with Reaper, but it looks like they’re just… going to bed. How boring is that?
I jump as a motorcycle revs loudly from somewhere behind me. Listening again, I realize it’s two bikes, not one, but more importantly, they are headed right for me. Yanking my hood up to cover my hair, I slide down in my seat. I hold my breath, trying to make myself invisible as the riders cruise by. Thankfully, they keep rolling. Peeking up after they pass by, I breathe a sigh of relief when I recognize the Dirty Sinner’s colors on both of them and ‘Reaper’ on the left.
They park in the same driveway, but leave their choppers outside. There’s movement and light spilling out onto the street, but then it all goes dark. Taking a deep breath, I open the driver’s side door of my car, forgetting about the horrendous squeak in the hinges and the blinding dome light that comes on automatically.
I panic as a throng of dogs start barking and howling, spooling each other up. Jumping out of the car and shutting the door, I crouch behind the trunk, praying the burly men at the end of the street didn’t hear that. Just then, something big and furry scurries down an alley between two houses, knocking over a recycling bin. I don’t know who lives there, but they have a problem judging by the sound of it.
A million beer cans clatter to the ground. Glass bottles go bouncing and rolling across the pavement by the dozens. And then the damn dogs start back up. “Oh, come on!” I hiss under my breath.
Finally, the dogs quiet down. Sticking to the shadows, I make my way down the street. There’s a single light on in the house. As I draw closer, I swear under my breath. The curtains are pulled shut. All I can see are shadows. Not that seeing them was going to do me any good. They already wrecked my panties. I need tohearwhat they’re saying. I need to know if they’re going to protect Brandon or not.
“This is soooo stupid,” I whisper to myself, creeping closer. “You are too smart to be pulling shit like this, Elle.” I ignore my inner voice of reason, opting instead to crouch next to the window. From my new — and very dangerous — hiding place, I can spot the men in the living room.
Rattler leans against the back wall, arms crossed over his chest. Beast paces back and forth, wearing a path in the carpet. In the middle of a big black sofa, Reaper sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. It’s hard to hear what they’re saying, but the window isn’t completely soundproof, and once voices start to rise, I catch bits and pieces.
“We can’t trust her… trap…”
“… looked into Hicks… real piece of shit...”
“That doesn’t mean she’s trying to help…”
