“Not on my watch,” I murmured.
I was equal parts pissed and concerned. Her car weaved around, and I didn’t know what kind of condition she was in. Also, she fled the scene. They always fucking fled the damn scene. Without a care in the world as to the damage they could have possibly done to myself or my fucking bike. I chased after her, blowing through the red arrow as I careened around the corner. I ignored the people who yelled after me and honked their horns like some chorus of fuckwads who were angry at absolutely nothing.
I had a woman to track down.
I followed her from stop to stop, trying to keep a distance. For some reason, I kept toggling between unhinged anger and unadulterated worry. Every second that passed by made me more concerned for her head and more confused as to why the fuck I cared so much today. Maybe it was because of this shit with the club or maybe it was because of that bullshit at the grocery store with that woman and the guy stalking her out.
But I figured I was at least warranted in chasing her down.
What the hell was in the water for these women today anyway?
I pulled off onto side roads and kept on her tail. I used tactics Notch taught me to keep my bike as muted as possible. I followed her from stop to stop, keeping an eye on the old, beat up station wagon she drove. The damn car looked like it was about to shit itself simply from love-tapping my chrome back end.
“Woman’s not safe in that car, either,” I murmured.
I darted down another back road, keeping my eye on the intersections. Every time I passed one, she passed. Our vehicles were perfectly in sync. We rode that way for a few blocks, my bike muffled and her car groaning at the speed she was trying to move.
Then, I crossed an intersection that didn’t have her matching up with me.
With a furrowed brow and a worried state of mind, I slipped myself down the alley. I came out at the intersection, shrouded by the buildings that loomed over me. My eyes cased the road. I looked across the street. I tried to track down where the fuck that girl had gone before I found her pulling up to a window at a fast food joint.
She paid for some food. She pulled up to receive it. Then, right there in the damn drive through, she inhaled some french fries and a drink.
My kind of woman.
I grinned as she eased out into traffic. She was in the perfect position for me to make my move. I looked both ways before my feet eased my bike out onto the main highway, and I slipped into the lane beside her. I revved my engine as I picked up speed. I saw her tap her brakes before her car sped up. She darted in and out of traffic, weaving around cars in an attempt to get away from me.
But no old station wagon was a match for my bike.
I rushed to catch up with her in the lane that was clear in front of me. She kept pulling into it to try and get around other cars, but it was no use. The stoplight coming up in front of us was yellow, and I had a feeling she wasn’t the type of girl to risk blowing a red light.
I smiled widely when she slowed down at the red light.
I rode up beside her and peeked in through her window. She kept her eyes painfully straight, her knuckles still white against her steering wheel. She was cute, I’d give her that. Ballsy, for sure. It looked like the blood on her head had dried and she wasn’t puking up her food, which was a good sign.
I pushed away my worry and let my anger have its turn.
I reached over and knocked my knuckles against her window. At first, she ignored me. Her eyes darted over, but she didn’t turn toward me. But after the bang of my fist against her window, she jumped and looked my way.
She locked those ocean blue orbs with mine and I felt my stomach clench.
Why the hell does she have to be so cute?
I waved my finger around in the air, motioning for her to roll down her window. The lights were cycling through, leaving us stranded in the lanes that headed out toward the ocean. The woman quickly shook her head no. Like she thought she had a choice in the matter.
I flipped up my visor and glared at her, and it wasn’t long before her window rolled down. Giving me the perfect view of her voluptuous tits that sat against a thick, vivacious body.
Just my fucking luck.
8
Hayley
I panicked. Even though I tried to keep my cool on the outside, I felt like raging ocean waters on the inside. I couldn’t believe I left. I still couldn't believe I’d fled the scene like that. But something in the pit of my gut told me to. And that was something I’d listened to my entire life. When all else failed, my gut never steered me wrong.
Not once.
I looked into the dark green eyes of the man glaring at me through my driver’s side window. I wasn’t sure what to do. He kept motioning for me to roll down my window, and I was hesitant to do so. But he looked mean. Mad. Bad. And I wasn’t sure what he’d be capable of doing to me if I didn’t listen.
Fucking hell, I wished my father was with me to help me through this.
I rolled my window down just as the light turned green. Yet again, cars started honking. The damn mating call of San Diego, it seemed. The man looked down into my lap before his eyes slowly rose up my body, and I felt a flush cover my cheeks.
What the hell was he looking at? And why did he look so pleased with himself?
I debated on flying away again. On pressing down the gas pedal and speeding away. People swerved around us and shouted all sorts of nonsense I didn’t listen to. Because my eyes were hooked on this man that kept staring at me from beyond his helmet. I watched his arm move. His leather-coated arm, as it slid into my car. He breached the threshold of my rolled-down window and wrapped his hand around my steering wheel.
His very large, scarred, callused hand.
“Press the gas. I’ll drive,” he said.
My stomach jumped at the sound of his voice. A shiver worked its way up my spine. I shook it away, wondering if I should listen. It would be nothing to press the gas and rip away from him. Take his damn arm off in the process. I mean, would anyone care about some beat-up biker? All I had to do was tell them he was intimidating me or something, right?
No. That was shitty. Running hadn’t worked the first time.
And something told me it wouldn't work a second time around, either.
I pressed softly down onto the gas and he drove my vehicle. He commanded his bike as well as my car and eased us both slowly off to the side of the road. We pulled into a parking lot, his hand controlling my wheel as well as the steering on his bike. I watched with wide eyes as I kept my foot on the gas, ready to speed off the second I smelled something fishy about this entire experience.
Like it hadn’t already gotten that way.
I reached my hand over into my purse as he eased us into an abandoned parking lot. Traffic moved freely and the horns stopped honking. People stopped cursing at us and continued on with their day like nothing happened. Like I hadn’t knocked over some biker and run from him only to have him in control of my damn vehicle with his hand.
His hand I couldn't stop staring at.
I saw the veins running underneath his skin. His tanned, leathery skin. Like the jacket on his body. He had grease underneath his fingernails and tattoos on his knuckles. I couldn't make out what the black tattoos said. They were old. Worn. Faded with time. Or possibly the sun.
“Off the gas,” he said.
I pulled my foot away from the pedal and smashed on the brake. I slipped my hand into my purse, pulling out my pepper spray as I put the car in park. I had no idea who the hell this guy was or what he was capable of. But I could almost guarantee he was packing. Men like him always were. At least, that was what my father told me about these kinds of guys. People who rode with motorcycle gangs like he so obviously did.
That asshole wasn’t putting the barrel of his gun anywhere near me today.
He let go of my steering wheel once I put my car in park. He moved his arm away from me. Away from my body and out of the car. But his leather brushed against my c
hest and I got the smallest whiff of what I could only assume was cologne. It was musky. Deep. Rich with oak. The slightest brush of his leather against me sent chills throughout my body. The kind that made their way to my pelvis and warmed my body from head to toe.
My nipples puckered against my bra as I sat there, wondering what the hell was about to happen.
I turned my head to face him and took in his form. He sat there on his bike as he slid his helmet off his head. His tan skin blended to his brown hair. And those dark green eyes of his captivated me. The vein on his neck was thick with protrusion, and it fell beneath a black t-shirt. His legs were long. Curled up tightly onto his bike to keep himself and the vehicle steady. His thighs were strong, and the muscles of his arms bled through the leather of his jacket effortlessly.
And when he turned his torso toward me, I saw the divots of his chest through the tight ass black shirt he had on.
I was completely derailed by how handsome he was.
“There a problem, officer?” I asked cheekily.
“The hell were you thinking, driving away like that?” he asked.
Whatever playful demeanor wanted to come out and have a chat tucked itself back in. I turned my body fully toward him, gazing at him through my window. He didn’t seem as intimidating as he once did. Even though I clearly saw the gun on his hip, he made no move to reach for it. He didn’t even poise himself to quickly grab at it if I pissed him off.
Maybe playing dumb would work.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
His face fell and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
“Why did you drive off after hitting me?” he asked.
“I didn’t realize I’d hit you.”
He pointed. “I’d say the dried blood on your forehead tells otherwise.”
Shit. I forgot about that. Well, at least I didn’t have a concussion. At all. If it was that easy to fucking forget about. I rose my fingertips and felt the dried blood. I winced at the pain as my skin slid across it. Oh, it was tender. That would leave a very nice bruise to explain to my father later.
What the hell was I going to tell him?
“I’m not buying it. I know you’re the one that hit me. So, why the hell did you drive off?” the man asked.
My eyes slowly fell down his frame again. I used my beat of pause as a last chance at admiration. Because the man was very good looking. Tight jeans. Tight shirt. Leather that felt good against my skin. I’d always loved the feel of leather. I owned a pair of leather pants back in college, and they were my fucking favorite.
I eventually got too big for them, but hell. I still had them in my drawer for one of these days I decided to finally drop the twenty pounds I needed to drop.
“Well, do you want me to call the cops, then? Have them sort this accident out?” I asked.
His glare hardened on me. “No. I don’t want to deal with the cops.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“So, what are we going to do about this predicament?”
“I don’t know. I’m not versed in the law. That’s what the police are for,” I said coyly.
I held his eyes, and he held mine. Then, his anger broke. I watched his eyes flicker to my forehead and I could have sworn worry crossed his stare. Worry? From a biker? Hardly. Maybe I was a bit concussed. Seeing things. Imagining things that weren’t there.
Then, he smiled.
He smiled, and his green eyes lit up. He smiled, and the darkness was chased away. He smiled, and my gut clenched, because he had the most fantastic smile on this planet. His strong jawline made those gleaming white teeth more powerful. The wind kicked up and tousled his hair, giving him a rather boyish look. I stared up at him as the scowl on my own face lightened, and I watched his eyes drop down my body one last time.
Oh, I liked it when he looked at me that way.
“I don’t think anything’s wrong with my bike. Anything wrong with your car?” he asked.
“Nope. Drives good,” I said.
“I should hope so. You did a pretty good job getting away until you stopped for food.”
I face fell. “Wait, you saw me eating?”
“I did.”
I felt embarrassed in that moment. I wanted to roll up the window and cower in shame. Sure, I wasn’t ashamed of my curves. But I had ways of offsetting my size with men. Like, eating fucking french fries with a damn fork so I didn’t look like a rabid beast.
“Just in case, though, I should probably grab your number,” he said.
I sighed as my hand slipped into my purse. I felt around for my wallet before diving my fingertips in there, searching for my new business card. They’d come in the day I moved. The day before I packed up and hauled ass from Los Angeles to San Diego. I pulled the card out and placed it between my fingers, then held my hand just shy of the window’s opening.
“Thank you,” the man said.
“Call me if something happens to your bike,” I said.
“Or if I want to get french fries with someone.”
My head whipped over to him and I found him grinning at me.
“What?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I like fries. They’re my favorite. Though, you should’ve gotten two large ones instead of one. So your fries make it all the way through your drink.”
I paused. “What?”
“I’ve always been a sucker for sweet and salty. Try it next time. Two large fries instead of one, extra salt, and a large soda.”
“I… usually don’t get extra salt if it’s a large.”
He chuckled as he licked his lips, and my nipples puckered harder. Was he… flirting with me? It’d been so long since someone had, I wasn’t sure if it was happening or not.
Then, he winked at me. I saw that. I saw that playful little wink of his, and that solidified it for me. He was flirting with me.
And I liked it.
“I’ll call you if something happens to my bike,” the man said.
“Or if you want someone to eat fries with you,” I said, grinning.
“I knew you were a smart one, catching on like that.”
“Might take me a second, but I always learn.”
“You enjoy learning new tricks?”
My skin puckered at his voice.
“Depends on the trick,” I said.
He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Then, he slipped my card into his pocket and used his feet to backpedal his way out of the parking space.
9
Stone
I backed my way out of the parking space and over to the abandoned building. I pulled the card out of my pocket and glanced down at it enough to catch her first name. Hayley. A pretty name for a pretty girl. I grinned as I slipped the card back into my pocket and leaned against the handlebars of my bike. I watched Hayley’s lights come on as she backed out of her parking space, then her eyes flickered to the side-view mirror.
Our eyes connected, and I felt a rush of electricity set fire in my veins.
I liked her. Despite how scared she seemed when I pulled us over, she snapped out of it and held her own. Her sense of humor wasn’t too bad, either. Standing on her own like that, though? Against someone she initially perceived as a threat? That was hot. That took strength. Gumption. An independence that rocked me to my core. I loved women like that. Thick, luscious women who stood on their own two feet. Most of the women I’d sunk my teeth into were clingy as fuck. Insecure about their bodies and looking for someone to validate them.
Hayley certainly didn’t need any of that pathetic shit.
I slipped my hand back into my pocket and peeked at the card again. San Diego Zoo. Her card was for some sort of a job at the damn zoo up the road. I chuckled and shook my head as I slipped the card back into my pocket. Holy hell, those were some lucky animals. I bet they drooled over her thick parts just as much as I was in that moment.
I sat there, watching her pull out into traffic before I cranked up my bike.
Hayley was sexy. I’d give her that. But she was reckless. And fuck only knew I didn’t need to be attaching myself to another reckless person. The only reason I fucked those other women was because they made me feel grounded. Rooted in the present. And with the way Hayley drove off like that without a second thought made me wonder what other kinds of shit she’d gotten herself into over the course of her life.
But holding the police over my head like that? It meant she read me well. On the spot. Like I did everyone else.
It was a weird feeling, but a refreshing one. Knowing I couldn't easily hide from a woman like that.
I rode back out into the road and turned around. Finally, maybe I could get back to my place. I cruised along, leaning back against the leather seat of my bike as my mind wandered. I imagined what it would feel like, pressing my face into that prominent cleavage of hers. What it might taste like to wrap those thighs around my face and feast on her drippings. My cock ached against my jeans as I rode across town, blazing through yellow lights and skirting around red ones. I was ready to get home. Ready to get behind closed doors.
Ready to wrap my hand around my dick and relieve some of this pressure.
The smell of the swamp welcomed me home. It wasn’t a massive odor. Faint enough to get used to, but strong enough to smack someone in the face the first time around. I smiled as I pulled into my apartment complex, all but abandoned. Even though there were seven buildings on the property, I was the only person that occupied an apartment in the building I was in. The smell drove most away, and the developers in the area had ditched trying to bring this part of San Diego into the twenty-first century. It was why I kept re-upping my lease, despite the confusion I got from the front office every time I did so.
I had luxury amenities, and I had privacy.
What more could a man like myself want?
I hauled my groceries upstairs and shoved my shoulder into my front door. I closed it and locked it, then dropped everything and slid my leather coat off my shoulders. I hung it up on the rack by the door. I kicked off my boots and curled my toes into the cherry mahogany hardwood floors. I shoved all the groceries into the refrigerator, figuring they couldn't get anymore beat up than they actually were. The smell of the swamp outside gave way to the fresh cotton smell I had going on in my apartment.
The Lost Boys MC Series: Books 1-4 Page 20