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I chuckle at them, rubbing my thumb over the safety on my 9mm, where it rests against my stomach, through the thin material of my hoodie. Riot becomes a little more hasty with his steps as he makes his way to me. He gently snatches me away from my stool, towing me behind him.
“She’s a business associate,” he snaps.
The bikers scatter when they realize they’ve pissed him off. Only I seem to know why he’s mad, but I wouldn’t dare correct them.
As he drags me down the hall, shoving me into his dad’s office, I grumble, “I’ve shot people for less, Riot.”
He flips the lock and scoops me up by my thighs, walking me straight to the desk. Our lips clash with a ferocity that gets more intense with every meetup. The longer we’re apart, the hotter we become, until we’re like this. Until we can’t get enough of each other.
I tangle my fingers in his silky blonde hair. He groans when I pull him into me. I drop my hands to unbutton his pants, and he trails kisses down my neck before he jerks away abruptly.
Fuck.
I forgot.
Riot cradles my face between his large hands, his skin rough against my smooth cheeks. Angry eyes search what he can see of me, but he always sees deeper.
“Are you bleeding? Fuck. Did someone stab you?”
I shake my head and smile. “No.”
He frowns and quirks a single brow at me. “Why do you smell like blood?”
“I don’t smell anything.”
“Jasper,” he growls my name, knowing one of two things will happen; I’ll give him answers, or I’ll get turned on.
Sometimes both.
He’s one of three people I trust with my life, though he’s only one of two whom I trust with my secrets.
“We had a snitch.” I roll my eyes as I huff. “He was more of a fighter than normal.”
“Jesus, fuck, Jasper,” he quietly rages. “You can’t just walk into the clubhouse reeking of blood. Do you need me to take care of the body? Tell me it’s not in your fucking trunk.”
“He’s not. I’ve already dealt with that.” I raise my hands, trying to placate him.
The trunk thing happened once. It’s not a regular occurrence. But I don’t argue that point now. I know when to pick my battles.
I change the tone of my voice, distracting him as I purr, “I do need you tomorrow night, though.”
“I've never missed a Friday appointment.” His eyes soften as he kisses me with ease.
“I know, but—”
“What?”
I grimace. “I need you to escort me to the auctions.”
“Fuck, no,” he bites out, his mood souring further as he looks me over yet again.
I sigh and aim for honesty. I don’t enjoy lying to him. He’s practically a fucking mind reader with me; very rarely can I hide shit from him.
“I can’t take any of my guys without them knowing exactly who I am. I need backup, Riot.”
“Who are you buying?”
I scoff at him. “No one. I’m going to make an example out of—”
