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“Hey, hey!” His big body blocks me from view and I catch a whiff of the most tempting thing I’ve ever smelled before. It’s like a combination of the woods and spicy man all rolled up into one and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I stare at him, so close to me.
Damn, he’s big.I have to tip my head way back to see his face. He has to be at least six foot six of solid muscle and inked skin and I gotta say….I’m not hating it.
And that scares me almost as much as the man hunting me.
CHAPTER2
Petrol
Damn, she’s pretty.Dainty like a little princess and so fucking delicate that it looks like a stiff breeze could blow her the hell away from me.
Which I don’t like. Especially when her pretty blue eyes get this hunted look in them. Like they have now.
She’s afraid of something. Eyeing the little pack on her back, I know she’s running from someone or something. That little pack is most likely all her worldly possessions the way she’s hanging onto it.
I know that kind of look. I’ve seen it before. Many times over the years of working and living at Hell’s Last Stand’s compound. I buried myself with my buddies at the compound, barely sober for a long time. After I found out about my wife.
Pain stabs me in the chest and I rub at it absently, hoping to chase it away. It’s been a long time. At least it doesn’t gut me like it used to. Kinda. Or at least I’ve just gotten used to only living with half a heart, the rest of it shredded and left behind on some piece of desert sand that we were fighting for for some damn reason.
I push that thought out of my head as she apparently finds her equilibrium and starts to walk away. I can tell she’s still nervous the way she’s white-knuckling that bag.
“Hey! Fucking wait!” I holler, chasing after her tiny little form. She’s got to be barely over five foot tall. Just a little slip of a thing. And still a damn teenager I’d guess.
Which makes her solidly off-limits. I tell myself that even as my dick kicks up in my dirty work pants, pressing against my zipper like he’s desperate to get to her. Ready to rip a hole in the fabric just to get close to her slight body.
I grab her arm and she whips around, yanking it free and growling at me like a little tiger cub. A smile curls my lips. She’s feral and I like it. A lot.
“Hey, baby. Don’t run off. If you need help, I can help you. Don’t run away.”
Her slim shoulders slump but she still looks me right in the eye, unfazed at how big I am. I’m a scary motherfucker. Especially with the scar on the side of my cheek that twists my mouth when I try to smile. It’s old and faded but it’s never going away. A constant reminder of what I lost that damn day.
“I don’t need help,” she mutters, her head dipping.
She’s lying. And she’s really fucking bad at it. I wipe the grin off my face again. I swear to fuck I haven’t smiled this much in years. My phone goes off in my pocket, the Darth Vader theme making me smile.
I pull it out and answer. “Yeah, boss.”
Her head comes up and she stares at me. She thinks I can’t see the way she’s eyeing me up but I can. I see her from the corner of my eye as I chat with the club prez.
“Yeah, sure. I got that. I’ll be at the club later.” Later, later. Right now, I’ve got a little angel to convince that running away from me doesn’t make sense and that I’ll help her stop running and start over. It’s what I do. I’ve helped countless women over the years.
Mostly because I couldn’t help my own.
Which is also why I am not going to touch this woman. Girl. Whatever the hell she is, she doesn’t need a man like me in her life like that.
She just needs a safe place to stay and a way to help herself. I can be both.
The rest of the sizzling feelings hurtling through me right now don’t mean shit.
“Come on, princess,” I wheedle softly, seeing the way she eyes me after I get off the phone. Like she really wishes that I could help her.
Which I can. A smile curls my lips when I think about one of the last women I helped for Hell’s Last Stand. She was such a tiny thing. In a way, this woman reminds me of her. They look nothing alike. There’s just something in the eyes.
“I can help you. Let me.” I cross my arms over my barrel chest and wait her out, watching as her white teeth come out, nibbling on her lower lip. She’s tempted.
She’s scared but yet she wants to believe I can help her.
I hold my hand out and she eyes it like it’s a snake about to bite her. “I really do need help in my shop. And if you need a place to stay, I’ve got a two-bedroom over the shop where I live. It’s nice and quiet most of the time and nobody will be able to find you.”
