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We arrived at our parked hogs, and before I took off, I sent a quick text to Hack. He was my boss—and a computer genius—so I asked him to get me info on Alyssa. Then I rode toward the high school while my brothers went to a black site to interrogate the drug-addled bastard. I’d definitely drawn the short straw.
My destination wasn’t far, so I arrived five minutes before the final bell was due to ring. I idled at the back of the parking lot while I checked the message I’d received from Hack.
Short. Black hair. Green eyes. Drives a dark blue Prius.
Then he gave me the license plate and the door she was most likely to exit based on her schedule. I was positive he had a fuck ton of other information, but I didn’t need to know anything beyond how to recognize her. I wanted to get this shit over with as fast as possible. I had a date with a beer and a pizza back at the compound.
Alyssa’s Prius was parked in the lot located by the exit Hack had predicted. The spots on both sides were taken, but I pulled my bike between two of them anyway. Right as I killed the engine, the bell rang, and the doors to the school burst open, students pouring out. The lot quickly began to empty, and while part of me was impatient, fewer people meant fewer distractions for the chick.
Still, she was taking forever. I’d spotted a few girls who fit the description, but none of them had come anywhere near the Prius. Although some bold ones ate me up with their eyes—they backed off the second I gave them a glare that made it clear what I thought about their inappropriate behavior—while the rest scurried away in fear.
I was just about to stalk into the building and find Alyssa when I was bowled over by the woman who strolled out into the sunlight. “Holy shit,” I murmured in awe.
She was so fucking gorgeous that my cock—which had been unresponsive to the sight of a woman for more years than I cared to count—jumped to attention, hardening and creating a large bulge in my jeans.
As big as I was, I wouldn’t have expected to be so hot for a woman who was practically my opposite in size. She was petite, like a pixie, with large green eyes that sparkled as she smiled at the girl walking with her and were fringed with long, dark lashes. Her face was round, with high cheekbones and plush lips that had my cock leaking precome from just the thought of them wrapped around my shaft. Her midnight black hair was gathered into a ponytail at the side of her neck, and the shiny tresses hung down far enough to curl around one breast.
My mouth watered at the sight of her tits straining against her white blouse. They weren’t big, probably no more than a handful, but they were full and round, and so fucking perfect. Despite being so dainty, she had a delicious curve to her hips, and her shirt was tucked into the small waistband of her plaid skirt, which ended a little too far above her knees for my liking because her slender, toned legs were on display. And I knew I wasn’t the only one who pictured them wrapped around his head when they saw them.
My eyes traveled back up to her face, and I didn’t bother to hide my interest when I saw that she’d noticed me. Her cheeks turned pink, and she said something to the girl before parting and walking in my direction.
I grinned, thinking this woman must be feeling the same intense attraction, but my smile dropped immediately when she pulled a backpack around and unclipped a set of keys. That’s when I put all of the pieces together. I’d been so focused on her assets, that I hadn’t noticed the packaging…a school uniform. She smiled at me, and my chest tightened.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This couldn’t be her. No way was this sexy as hell woman the teenage daughter of the sheriff who I’d been dispatched to lecture.
But as she drew closer, not only did I recognize the Prius keys in her hand but Bartley was also stitched on the letterman jacket she had draped over one arm.
Rage exploded in my gut as I wondered who the guy was that had convinced her to put her name on his jacket, effectively branding her. It didn’t really matter. He no longer had a claim to Alyssa. Although I’d need to find out his identity to let him know he shouldn’t speak to her ever again.
I gave my head a tiny shake, realizing what my thoughts implied.
Yeah, I was fucking screwed. I knew I’d never let another man watch over her, never let another man touch her, and I’d never let her go.
Alyssa Bartley didn’t know it yet, but she was mine.
2
ALYSSA
Even without the distinctive leather vest, I would’ve guessed the guy on the motorcycle in the spot next to mine was part of the Silver Saints MC. He was too old to be one of my peers and too rough to be a teacher. He also wasn’t the kind of man a girl would ever forget. Not with how big and brawny he was and with muscles on top of his muscles. Or the man bun he’d pulled his curly light brown hair into. The beard and tattoos. Then there were his bright blue eyes that reminded me of the gorgeous water I’d seen when my dad had taken me on a beach vacation to Siesta Beach, Florida, last year.
If he’d been on campus before, I would’ve noticed him. And if I hadn’t seen him myself, I would’ve heard about him because every female with a pulse would’ve been talking about him. Memorable wasn’t a strong enough word for this guy. He was hot as sin, and the beast of a bike he rode only reinforced his bad-boy image. Only it wasn’t just a persona—as a member of a motorcycle club, many people would consider him to be bad, period.
And he definitely wasn’t a boy. He was all man. The impact of him was enough to wake my dormant libido and send skitters of feminine awareness coursing through my body. The masculine interest in his gaze sent my senses into overdrive, but I hadn’t missed how he’d reacted when I’d pulled my keys off my backpack.
A member of the Silver Saints waiting next to my car after I’d emailed them about another major threat to our town couldn’t be a coincidence. Not when Leon’s scumbag of a brother had died not too long after I’d sent them my first email. I’d definitely landed myself on their radar.
He had to be waiting for me, but something about me seemed to have surprised him—and not in a good way, judging by how his sexy smile disappeared.
“Alyssa Bartley?”
His deep rumble sent a sensual shiver up my spine, and my voice was squeaky when I replied, “Yeah, that’s me.”
His gaze skimmed down my body, and he shook his head. “Please tell me you have some fucking pants or at least a pair of shorts in your backpack or car.”
My nose scrunched up as I tried to figure out why he cared what I was wearing. “I probably have a pair of soccer shorts in my trunk.”
“Put ’em on under your skirt.” When I just stared at him blankly, he added, “No way in hell I’m going to let you ride on the back of my bike in what you’re wearing. Your skirt is too damn short. You’d probably leave a trail of accidents in our wake as guys forget to pay attention to the road because they’re too busy trying to look up your fucking skirt.”
