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I sit down on the couch, wincing from my stinging behind. He sits down beside me. “Tear it down,” he orders. Placing the gun on a wooden coffee table that sits in front of us.
“Tear it down?” I question, looking at the gun on the table then back to him.
“Yes, tear it down like you’re going to clean it,” he explains.
“You’re serious?”
He doesn’t respond, he just looks at me with an alpha energy.
Hell, I didn’t even know you could clean it.I get out my phone and swipe the screen to unlock it. “Who are you calling?” he asks, grabbing my hand to stop me.
“No one,” I answer, my voice shaky from the feeling of his hand touching mine.
“Then what are you doing?” he asks not moving his hand.
“Googling how to tear it down,” I answer seriously, looking back at my phone.
“Jesus!” he replies, rubbing his face with his hand, clearly frustrated. He stands up and paces a few steps back toward the desk, muttering something I can't understand. Then he turns around and stomps back toward the couch and shouts, “You will not be getting this back!” Then reaching down, he picks up the gun from the coffee table and puts it in the front waistband of his jeans.
I stand up, putting my hands on my hips, while staring back at him angry that he thinks he can bully me and shout, “You can't take my gun!”
“Oh, I can, and I have,” he states confidently, staring right back at me, his eyebrows raised, ready to fight this out.Fuck the gun, I'll get another one. I sit back down on the couch with a huff, crossing my arms across my chest in defeat, knowing I've been outgunned, so to speak. He nods his approval of my unspoken concession and turns, walking over to a metal safe door built into the corner wall, just down from the couch. Entering the combination, he swings the door open and walks in. After a couple minutes, he returns with a manila envelope in his hand and my gun missing from his waistband. He shuts the door, giving the combination wheel a spin, and walks back over to me, handing me the envelope. “Your money,” he says, his tone much calmer, his eyes now back to their panty-dropping brilliant blue beauty.
I take the money, then stand up and mutter, “Thank you...um...I think?” I walk around the coffee table in the opposite direction he is standing and head for the door.
“Wait,” he barks, making me freeze in place when I'm just a few steps away from freedom. “I'll walk you back to your car.”
He walks me back out through the bar, with his hand at the small of my back. The warmth from his hand sends chills up my spine, making me shiver. I see Billy, who waves at me.Oh, he and I are going to have some words.I stop and give him the call me sign, putting my fist up to my ear mouthing, “Call me.” He nods back that he understands. Linc gives us both a suspicious look and then pushes me against my back a little harder so I will start walking again. The blond girl I saw earlier when I came in, is standing at the bar by the exit. She steps out in front of us with a big smile on her red-painted lips and coos, “Hey, Linc, you aren't leaving, are you?” She looks at me like she just ate something sour.
“No, I'll be right back,” he answers, not looking at her. “Just making sure the princess here gets back to her car okay.”
His comment and her attitude piss me off, so I push my elbow back into his arm, breaking his hold at my lower back and seethe, “I can find my own way back. Believe me, I have no interest in hanging out here.” Her smile fades and her eyebrows raise in awe as she looks to Linc to see his response at my hateful words. He doesn't say anything, he just reaches out, grabs my shirt in his fist, and pulls me back to him, making me stumble.
The woman laughs and moves out of our way as Linc pushes me to the door. “Well, when you get done sending her home to her mommy, you come back and find me. I'll take care of you real good,” she finishes, licking her lips. I want to turn and say something, but I can't because little does she know how much I wish I could go home to my mommy.
Out in the parking lot, Linc still has a death grip on my shirt. “You can let go now; my truck is right there,” I spit.
“Shut up,” he snaps, sounding exhausted while shaking his head.
Unlocking my truck, he holds the door open while I get in the driver’s seat. “Are you selling any more pot tonight?” he asks, looking back toward the clubhouse.
“Why?” I wonder why he wants to know. Why does he care?
“Because I took your gun, so if you are, I’ll send one of my guys with you.” His soft tone and relaxed facial features make me want to swoon at his empathy. Almost.
“No, I am not, but even If I were, I work alone. Besides I can replace that gun within five minutes of leaving here,” I sneer, shaking my head laughing.
Grabbing the hair at the back of my head and knotting it in his hands, he pulls me toward him. Then putting his mouth against my ear, he seethes, “Well, Miss Field, until you bring me proof you have taken and passed a gun safety course, I would suggest you not let me find out you have gotten another one. Because I will spank you again, and next time I won't stop for tears.” His hand then comes up, cupping my chin as he trails his lips from my ear, down my jawline, and then over to my mouth where he kisses me so softly, I barely feel it. My thighs clench, and a strange sound escapes from my throat before he pulls away, letting go of my hair. “Have a nice evening, Miss Field.” His mouth forms a small smirk. Then shutting my truck door, he turns, walking back to the clubhouse.
I sit here watching him walking back, out of breath and stunned. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I start the truck and race out of the parking lot. I need to get away. I need to forget this ever happened, but most of all, I need to forget how this guy makes me feel. He scares me and excites me. My body comes alive when he pulls me close. When his hand smacks against my ass, my heart beats harder, and I become wet. In fact, I need to change my panties now.
10
LINCOLN
Walking back to the clubhouse, I have to force myself not to look back at the girl. I hear tires squeal against the pavement before seeing her truck peel out of the driveway from the corner of my eye. Does that mean she felt it too? Or is she just trying to get away from me as fast as she can? Damn, I can still smell and taste her, vanilla and nutmeg, my dick is throbbing so hard it hurts. I want to spank the shit out of her, but I want to fuck her just as bad. “What the hell is this girl's deal? Why is she slinging weed? Why do I care?” Fuck!
Walking back in the clubhouse, Cindy is waiting for me at the door. “So, you ready?” she asks, licking her lips while arching her back so her breast push into my chest.
