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A vein stuck out in stark contrast against the tan skin of his corded neck, and I had the strangest desire to poke the beast.
“Fine, but he’ll have to do it from the bitch seat of my bike. If the guys ask, I’ll just tell ’em my new man prefers to be ridden.”
His nostrils flared for a brief second before the corner of his lip curled upward. It wasn’t exactly a sneer, but it didn’t hold enough warmth to be considered a smile, either.
“Tell them whatever you like as long as you arrive there in the back of my armored Maybach.”
Yeah, right. Like I was going to let the guys catch me pulling up to the garage allDriving Miss Daisystyle in a two hundred-thousand-dollar car.
“I’d rather take the bullet, thanks. Your man can follow me around if that helps you sleep at night, but I draw the line at being chauffeured.” Brushing past him, I yanked open the massive oak door, and hollered over my shoulder, “If he’s not on my bike in five, I’m leaving without him.”
My boots squeaked against the freshly polished dark hardwood floors as I moved down the hall, but it wasn’t until I stood at the top of the main staircase that I heard the echo of dress shoes behind me. He could follow me all he liked, but I wasn’t about to change my mind. Not about this. My mother spent most of her life letting a man dictate where she went. And for what? In the end, it was cancer that took her, not a bullet.
Frederick wore his usual bland expression as he swung open one side of the wooden doors when I reached the bottom. Yes, in this day and age, Antonio had an honest to goodness butler complete with tails, gloves, and bowtie. It didn’t matter if I came over at midnight or four in theafternoon; he was always the one who opened the door for me. Sometimes I wondered if the old man ever left his post.
“Have a good day, miss,” he said, his tone dry, the end of his nose pointed downward.
Antonio’s dress shoes scraped against the pavement as he continued to follow me down the long driveway. My gun was heavy in my pocket, and while shooting him in the foot was tempting, it would be a shame to risk messing up the new candy apple red paint job on hisMaserati. It was some of my best work. You couldn’t even tell someone had run into the back of it.
I spun on my heel, prepared to give him hell, only to come face to face with Lurch fromThe Adam’s Family. What the fuck?
“Uh, can I help you?”
He folded his arms in front of him, his pale hands overlapping at his waist. “I’m your new bodyguard, Jules.”
Shit. This was the guy Antonio sent to watch over me? Laughter bubbled up my throat and spilled out of me as I tried to picture his elongated frame on the back of my bike.
“I thought Antonio told you.”
He sounded like a kid who’d taken a hit off the helium tank at a birthday party, and it only made me laugh harder.
“You’re in real danger, you know,” he huffed as I bent over, holding my side.
“Sorry…I was just picturing”—I sucked in a breath—“you on the back…of my bike.”
I peered up at him in time to see his nod of understanding, a smile transforming the harsh angles of his face.
“Even if I could fit, it’s not a smart idea for you to be riding around on a bike.”
My laughter died a sudden death. If Antonio thought he’d send this behemoth of a man out here to intimidate me into doing what he wanted, he was dead wrong. The club had Beast, who was a giant man, same as Jules, so his size didn’t faze me.
Not that I was one to knuckle under when faced with male aggression. I’d grown up dealing with that shit.
“Listen, Jules. Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t need or want a babysitter. I only agreed to let you tag along—”
He tackled me to the ground, my words cutting off as we landed hard, my breath coming out in a whoosh. My head somehow ended up cradled in one of Jules’s massive mitts, but the rest of my body hurt something fierce.
Jules rolled us onto the driveway a second before I heard the unmistakable rat-a-tat-tat of a machine gun. Chunks from the patch of grass we’d been lying on moments ago flew into the air.
“Roll under the car!” he shouted into my ear amid another flurry of rat-a-tat-tats.
My brain misfired, and I lay there on the pavement, frozen.
“Move your ass,” Jules huffed as he began shoving me underneath the car.
His rough hands on my body were enough to break through the fog of fear that had held me in its thrall. Rocking my body back and forth, I shimmied the rest of the way under, leaving just enough room for his larger frame to follow behind. A scream threatened to tear up my throat, but I swallowed it down, afraid I’d give away our hiding spot.
Jules curled himself around me in our confined space, the sounds of gunfire all around us. With the constant barrage of noise, I couldn’t even pinpoint which direction it was comingfrom anymore making it unlikely we’d remain in one piece for very long.
