Tracking Numbers: A Bad Boy Protector Romance (Lost Boys Book 1)

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Tracking Numbers: A Bad Boy Protector Romance (Lost Boys Book 1) Page 5

by Janice M. Whiteaker

Kerri gives me one shouldered shrug. “Fine then. Sleep in your car.” She spins and starts to walk away.

  She doesn’t make it far. I grab her and pull her soft warmth against me. “I wasn’t done.” I slide my hands down her body as I press it into mine. “I declined for tonight.” I cup her bottom, squeezing the fullness of her ass as I drop to run my lips along her neck. “I will fuck you Kerri, but it will be when I decide.” I suck on her earlobe. The soft gasp she lets out satisfies me on an uncomfortably deep level. “Not when you want to distract yourself.”

  Her body is hot where it meets mine, stoking the desire that’s been eating me alive since the night I met her. All I want is to watch her come for me again. Hear her call my name.

  But tonight is not the time. Not for me and certainly not for her.

  Kerri lets out a long sigh and relaxes against me. “I’m hungry.”

  I can’t fix her dad. I can’t help her mom. I can’t take back the mistake I made tonight and I can’t do anything to change the past.

  Hers or mine.

  But this I can fix. Tonight I can take care of her. I owe it to her.

  That and a lot more.

  I cup her face in my hands and gently press my lips to her forehead. “I’ll order dinner.”

  She gives me a small smile. “I wasn’t really going to make you sleep in your car.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “Yes you were.”

  Her mouth opens.

  I lift her chin with my finger.

  “I’d have made me sleep in my car too.”

  6

  “HOW DO YOU keep getting fresh clothes?” I look Evan up and down as he walks out of my spare bedroom, buttoning the cuff of his shirt. His eyes lift from his wrist to settle on mine and my heart skips a beat.

  Stupid thing.

  It’s just because he fills out his suit so well. That’s all. Any woman would struggle around a man like Evan.

  “My roommate has been helping me out.” He finishes up with his cuff and pulls on his suit jacket, stretching his long arms into the sleeves before tugging at the lapels to work it into place over the open-neck crisp white shirt he’s wearing. Just like the night we met.

  Evan gives me a wink. “He was also nice enough to make sure I was fed and clothed during my camp out.”

  Guilt twists my stomach.

  He put himself on the line for me yesterday. Even after I’ve given him every reason not to, he protected me just like he said he would. I never imagined that would come to include my father. Standing up to the club president isn’t something a member does.

  Not if he wants to keep living life like he normally does. As a member.

  With all his teeth.

  He smiles at me, showing off the straight white line of teeth I’d hate to see damaged because of me. “You clean up nice, Numbers.”

  I’m wearing a fitted black dress that hugs my curves. Like the one I wore the night he couldn’t keep his hands off me because...

  Just because.

  “You’ve moved on from Princess?” I think I’m teasing him but the darkness that clouds his eyes tells me Evan didn’t take it as a joke.

  “I won’t call you that word again.” His jaw is tight as he stares at me. I watch the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. It’s the only move he makes for a long time. Long enough it makes me jump when he starts to walk toward me.

  Evan freezes. His head tips slightly to one side and I almost think I see a flash of hurt in his eyes. “Are you afraid of me, Kerri?”

  I laugh because that is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said. “You?” I walk toward him, eating up the rest of the distance between us to prove the answer I’m about to give him. “No. Not even a little.”

  “Really?” He watches me as I continue to close the gap separating us. “Not even a little?”

  I don’t stop until I’m pressed against him. “Not even a little.”

  He slept in the bedroom next to mine last night and I’m a little annoyed by it. I’ve never made an offer like I made him last night and been refused, but Evan turned me down. Flat.

  I won’t let him turn me down tonight.

  I want to see how it feels to be with someone like him. A man who is strong and aggressive and dominant.

  But different.

  It’s not a good idea. I know it. But if I don’t find out I’ll wonder the rest of my life.

  It will be fine. I can do this as long as I don’t lose control of the situation. I simply have to make sure I don’t get attached to Tracker because even if he is different, even if he isn’t like my father...

  He’s still one of them.

  And I worked too hard to get away. I can’t look back. No matter how nice the view is.

  But I want to know what it’s like to be with a man as strong as I am. One who pushes back but doesn’t try to crush me. Break me the way my father broke my mother.

  Evan’s hands rest on my hips. They slide around to cup my ass and I can feel my pulse pick up as he runs his fingers over the full curve of my cheeks to tuck against the juncture of my thighs, stopped from going any farther by the fabric of my dress. He’s never shied away from touching me. He doesn’t ask permission and he doesn’t hesitate. I like that. I like that he takes what he wants.

  Even if I try to give him more.

  “I bet your friends will feel differently.” I see a hint of uncertainty on his face and it makes me question if I’ve already lost control of what’s happening between us.

  I shove the thought away. I am a strong fucking woman. If I don’t want a man for anything other than to satisfy my curiosity then that’s how it will be. I will not develop feelings for him.

  I mean I was with Nelson six months and didn’t end up with any feelings besides pity for the guy.

  I can do this my way. Just like I’ve done everything else in my life. I am in control. I run this show and that includes my decisions and my emotions.

  I straighten his lapels. “You might be surprised.”

  If Tracker thinks my friends are going to be intimidated by the way he looks then he’s about to have an enlightening evening. Maybe it will be good for him.

  He snaps one arm out, forcing the sleeve of his jacket above his watch. He looks at the timepiece that probably cost more than my rent. It’s another reminder of the life he lives.

  The same life I will never go back to. Or even within spitting distance of.

  The money is good if you’re in the right position and from the cut of his suit and the watch on his wrist, Tracker is an indispensable part of the club and my father compensates him accordingly. But that only means his life there is set. My father wouldn’t let him go, even if he wanted to leave.

  Jesus.

  I take a step back. Shit. I just wondered if Tracker would consider leaving the club. I need a little space between us.

  I plaster a smile on my face as panic pumps through my veins. “Are you ready?”

  “Always.” Tracker grabs my car keys off the table and opens the door for me, reminding me how many potential problems there are with my plan to keep my feelings for him on a strictly physical level.

  Problem number one. He’s chivalrous.

  I give him a tight smile as I walk through the open door and outside into the waning evening sun. I hear the deadbolt lock and within seconds his hand is at my elbow, guiding me to the car.

  Where he opens the door.

  I slide into the seat and buckle up as he shuts the door and walks to the other side. I watch as Tracker scans the area as he moves, giving the neighborhood one last look before getting into the driver’s seat.

  It’s been at least a week since he was assigned to watch out for me and nothing has happened. Not a single threat to my safety.

  Except the time I shimmied out a bathroom window in a skin tight dress to get away from him. And the time I got lost trying to sneak away from him at work. And the time I jumped into traffic trying to outrun him.

  It’s no wo
nder he thought taking me to my father was his only option.

  It was.

  “Where are we going?” Evan backs out of my assigned parking spot and pulls into the narrow driveway that runs between each of the large brick apartment buildings lining my street.

  “The Italian Oven.” I point to the left. “It’s about ten minutes away.”

  That’s the good thing about living in a college town. Anything I want is almost within walking distance. Food. Alcohol. Shopping. I never have to venture too far from home if I don’t want to.

  He turns out of the lane and onto the narrow unmarked street. The sidewalks are full of students walking. Probably enjoying the last of the school year before heading home to their families and going from independent living to being back under their parent’s roof.

  The car is quiet except for the two times I have to tell Evan which way to turn. I want to talk to him. I want to ask him a million questions about his life and his friends and his family. That’s why I don’t. Because the less I know about him the better. I don’t need to know any of it and it will be easier for me if I don’t.

  Unless he has some terrible deep dark secret that would make it easy to hate him. That would be helpful right about now.

  We pull into the busy lot behind The Italian Oven and I see Shelly’s car parked. I start to get out, excited to see my best friend and have a glass of wine to help me relax. I pull on the handle. The locks click closed.

  I sit back in my seat and wait for him. Evan opens the door. “I thought we were past that?”

  I smile at him as I get out. “You thought wrong.”

  He rests his hand on the small of my back as we walk to the restaurant. His eyes never stop moving, watching everything happening around us. I wish I didn’t like the way it makes me feel to have him beside me, watching out for me.

  But it’s just an order he’s following.

  It’s not though. I can’t even make myself pretend it is. If it was just that he’d have let my father slap me and probably consider it a favor. Hoping it would put me back in line and make me easier to handle.

  “You all right?” Evan opens the door to the restaurant and the smell of garlic and baked cheese wafts out.

  I nod. “Just hungry.”

  He uses his hand on my back to direct me inside. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing we’re in the right kind of place to remedy that.”

  I see Shelly right away because she stands up from the table we reserved for our group. There are normally three of us. Me, Shelly and her roommate Becca, but tonight Becca brought two girls she works with. I met them once and I liked the short one, Amber maybe? But the tall gorgeous one? Felicity?

  She makes me want to gouge her eyeballs out with a spork.

  But I won’t because it’s Shelly’s party. And I love her. And she’d probably never speak to me again if I shed blood at her birthday dinner. Not to mention the extra charge The Italian Oven would add to our bill for body fluid removal.

  “Hey!” Shelly runs toward me, teetering in her heels as she rounds the table. She grabs me in a tight hug. “I’m so glad to see you.” She pulls back and goes for Tracker, wrapping her long, fair-skinned arms around him, bouncing a little as she squeezes him. “Thank you for taking care of my friend.”

  Shelly knows about what happened with my dad. Not just what went on yesterday, but what happened everyday growing up in my house. The way he treated me and my mom.

  Still treats my mom.

  She hugs Tracker for long enough he starts to look a little uncomfortable. Finally Shelly releases him and looks up at his face. “You are just the cutest thing.”

  She says it like he’s a kitten or a puppy. Some adorable little furry creature instead of a very large, very intimidating looking biker.

  Becca grabs Shelly’s arm. “Sit down. We’re getting ready to order.”

  A waitress is standing at the end of the table looking at us impatiently. Shelly grabs my hand and pulls me around the table with her. “You guys can sit beside me. I want to hear more about you, Evan.”

  Tracker looks at me when she calls him by name. It’s a strange look. One that I can’t quite read.

  Shelly sits down and I sit next to her. Tracker scoots my chair in for me before sliding into the one beside me. We order and the minute the waitress leaves Becca, Shelly’s friend from high school and long time roommate, leans across the table. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  Becca is a different sort of person. She’s blunt. Very, very blunt. Everything is black or white for her. It either is, or it isn’t. It wouldn’t occur to her not to ask a question she wants the answer to, no matter how awkward or invasive.

  But I like her anyway.

  I turn to Tracker. “No.” I look back at Becca, not really sure how to explain the situation. No one here knows what my family is besides Shelly. I don’t like for people to know what I came from.

  What I escaped.

  Evan leans closer to me as he directs his attention to Becca. “I have to spend a little time in town for work and Kerri’s been nice enough to take me in while I’m here.” Evan’s gaze stays on Shelly’s roommate as he gives her the stretched-truth explanation. Becca’s eyes are glued to him, watching his lips as every word passes through them.

  “I’m Becca.” She shoves her hand across the table at him.

  Tracker takes her hand in a gentle but firm handshake. His eyes move to me for a split second then ease back to Becca. “Evan.”

  Becca doesn’t miss a beat before hitting him with her next question. “Are you a biker?”

  “I am.” Tracker takes a sip of his water.

  I watch him, looking for any sign of irritation with the extreme amount of attention he’s getting but he only looks relaxed as Becca peppers him with questions about exactly how difficult it is to ride a motorcycle. Don’t you feel like you’re going to tip over when you go around a corner? Doesn’t it get hot? Doesn’t it get cold? She goes on and on listening intently to each patient answer before asking the next.

  “God, Becca.” Felicity rolls her glitter-shadow-covered eyes from where she sits on the other side of Evan. “He doesn’t want to answer any more of your stupid questions.”

  Felicity angles her long, lithe body in Evan’s direction, giving him an unobstructed view of the deep cleft between her breasts. “I have a question for you.” She leans her chin against the knuckles of her left hand. “How many tattoos do you have?”

  Evan shifts in his seat and I could swear he moves closer to me. “I’ve never counted.”

  That was a lie. I would bet all my money that man knew each and every tattoo that marked his body, including when he got it and what it meant. It’s clear the tattoos on his body have a deep meaning to him. Unfortunately, based on the gnarled silhouettes and dark colors I would guess it’s not happiness Evan was feeling when he got them.

  Felicity’s clear blue eyes travel down, raking over the man between us. “Well where all do you have them?”

  Evan clears his throat.

  I shove up from the table. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “I’ll take you.” Evan immediately stands beside me.

  Felicity snorts. “That’s ridiculous. If you’re scared to go alone I’ll go with you.” She stands up.

  Well shit. I give her a forced smile. “That’s fine.”

  Either way I’m getting her away from Evan. Felicity’s clearly making him uncomfortable and I owe him an ass-saving. It’s not nearly the same level of ass-saving as what he did for me though.

  Felicity’s worse than my father could ever be.

  We walk into the ceramic tiled bathroom and she stands in the mirror while I go in the stall and try to prove my need to be here. I manage to squeeze out a tinkle before siding up to her at the sink where she’s applying a thick layer of extra shiny gloss to her lips.

  “I’m not sure why you brought a man like that to dinner.”

  I turn on the water and start to wash my hands, cou
nting to ten before I open my mouth. It’s the first trick I learned when I realized I had a temper to control. “Why’s that, Felicity?”

  “I mean, you clearly like him and he’s obviously not into you.” She rubs her lips together and pushes her tits up higher in her dress. “I would think you’d be smart enough to know Evan would move on once he saw what else he could be spending his time doing while he’s in town.”

  I’m going to have to kill her I think.

  7

  I THINK SHE’S going to kill her.

  “What in the hell is wrong with you?” The skinny brunette on my left looks at Kerri, eyes brimming with feigned innocence.

  “With me?” Kerri’s eyes go so wide I think they might pop out of her head. She points to the wad of satin in my lap. “You just dropped your panties in his lap.”

  “So?” The brunette whose name I can’t remember shrugs her shoulder. “It’s not like he wanted your panties in his lap.”

  A level of rage I’ve never seen flashes in Kerri’s dark eyes.

  Oh Shit.

  I barely manage to grab her as she lunges across me, grabbing the panties as she goes. Kerri twists in my arms, trying to break free of my hold on her. She looks at me.

  “Please let me go.” Her voice is terrifyingly calm.

  I pull her tighter against me. Partly to keep her from getting loose and partly because I like the feel of her stretched across my lap, especially while she’s in a fit of jealous rage.

  Over me.

  I lean into her ear. “Not until you calm down.”

  “I am calm.” That same low, slow voice that would make a rational person run like hell. “I just want to give Felicity her panties back.”

  I look down at the tiny garment clutched in her fist. I don’t want to touch them. That’s why they were still on my lap in the first place. But I’m a grown-ass man and I promised I would protect Kerri from anyone who might hurt her.

  So far nine times out of ten it’s been from herself.

  I pluck the panties from her hand, pinching them between two fingers, letting the rest dangle in the air as I pass them to their original owner. Felicity snatches them from my hand, her high-gloss lips curled into a snarl.

 

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