Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi

by Karen Renee

  He stepped closer to her. “That is the epitome of prissy—”

  She glared up at him, her tits grazing his chest with her deep breath. “I am not, because I liked it. No, I fucking loved it, and nearly mounted you to fuck your brains out. So stop with the damn nickname. And for fuck’s sake, I have to move because there isn’t a vibrator around powerful enough to relieve how horny you make me. I don’t understand why you have to have no strings. What the hell is wrong with a committed relationship? Why guys like you and Brute are against that sort of thing, I’ll never know because you’re both two of the best guys I’ve ever met, and I’m well-educated on douchebags and assholes.”

  His lips pressed together with skepticism. “Don’t be so sure about that, babe. Brute and I are well-versed on being assholes.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Me and plenty of other women are well-versed on being bitches. That makes us even. Bottom line here, I got needs and living here isn’t helping.”

  He grinned. “You’ve got ‘needs,’ huh?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah. To be clear, high up on that list is getting laid by someone who isn’t going to love me and leave me. Because, newsflash, biker-man, my mother may have struck you as being a snob, but she taught me one damn thing really well. Never tie yourself to a man who isn’t all-in. What I know about you is, you’re only all-in when it means you run someone over, so thanks, but no thanks.”

  He growled. “Don’t say shit like that, Stephanie. You’re making assumptions and you don’t have all the facts.”

  Her face softened. “Fine. I’m sorry to say something out of ignorance.”

  “Accepted.” He held his hand out. “I’ll take my spare keys, babe.”

  Her lips quirked up, she dug into her pocket, and handed over the keys. “’Night, Har.”

  He didn’t know why he couldn’t let her go. “You eat yet?”

  She gave him a look. “I can’t say that I’m hungry. Later.”

  Chapter 11

  I Don't Feel Like It

  Stephanie

  I HAD NEVER MET A MAN so good at infuriating me. In retrospect, I had to give him credit. Deflating my tire to strand me here was inspired.

  Taking his truck had been especially fun because I sensed he didn’t expect that. Plus, there was a certain Goldilocks element to it. I was in a vehicle I didn’t belong in, and I might have done some things to make it ‘just right’ for a woman to drive that monstrosity. Like, add floral air fresheners under the seats and a huge window cling of two plumeria flowers with flowing scroll lines between them. It looked surfer-chic, but was not something Har would like, because it was so girlie.

  Yes, fucking with his truck was fun retaliation. It was a shame I wouldn’t be around when he noticed the shit I did.

  Such was my life.

  I laid on my futon and called Suzy to tell her all about my crazy day.

  When I mentioned the confrontation with Har, she went silent for a long time.

  “I hesitate to say this, but I think you should come back.”

  My brows furrowed. “To Jacksonville?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  I laughed. “That’s crazy, sis. I’m not doing that bad money-wise. I’m just not doing that good yet either.”

  “And that’s what has me worried.”

  “I’m planning to move out in a few weeks. Then things will be more normal.”

  “Okay. Because I don’t think being around him is good for you.”

  “Neither do I, which is why I’m making moves to get out. Found one place with potential, but I have two more to tour on a different side of town.”

  “All right. And again, if you need help, I’ll do what I can for you.”

  “No, Suzy. You’ve done so much for me over the years. Hell, I should be helping you.”

  “Whatever. Talk to you later.”

  My bladder was killing me, so I went to the bathroom. Returning to the room, I noticed my blinds were still tilted open for some natural light. I threw the door to but didn’t close it. As I stepped toward the window, the entire thing shattered.

  I felt tiny shards of glass whiz past my legs and I heard a high-pitched squeal, which I realized was my own scream.

  My door whooshed open.

  I glanced over my shoulder, finding Har’s huge eyes on me. He gazed down at something on the floor.

  “The fuck?”

  I started to move, but his hand gripped my arm. “Don’t move. Your feet are bare and there’s glass fuckin’ everywhere, Stephie. I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything.”

  He did an about-face and bolted out of the room. A few minutes later I heard someone outside my bedroom and caught glimpses of Har as he poked around the area outside my window. His footsteps faded away, sounding as though he were walking the opposite perimeter of the house. I didn’t know why he thought he’d find something or someone out there, but I was itching to move from where I stood.

  After another minute, he came back into my room. “All right, got your shoes in the bathroom. You need to put ’em on because there’s glass in the hall even though your door was half-closed.”

  “You’re joking,” I muttered.

  He shook his head and stepped in front of me, glass crunching under his boots. “Ready?”

  “For what?” I asked.

  He grinned. “Gonna pick you up. Here we go.”

  His hands gripped my hips and my hands shot to his shoulders. I ducked my head at both doorways whether I needed to or not, I didn’t know. He set me on the bathmat and turned to close the lid on the toilet.

  “Shoes. You vacuum the glass, I’m gonna check for plywood to board that up. Doubt I’ve got any, but need to check. If I have to go to the hardware store, you’re coming with me.”

  My brows furrowed, but he left me alone in the bathroom.

  I put my shoes on and found he’d left the vacuum in the hall outside my room. After twenty minutes of vacuuming, it seemed the glass was gone.

  As I wound the cord around the machine, Har leaned in my doorway. “Got no plywood big enough for that window. We’re gonna have to hit the store. Put on some clothes.”

  His eyes scanned my body and stopped on my legs. “Jesus, Stephanie! What the fuck? Do you know you’re bleeding?”

  I looked down to see some blood trickling down my leg. I jutted my leg out, but before I could pluck the shard of glass from the area just above my knee, he swatted my hand away.

  “Don’t you dare, woman. I’ll get some tweezers and the first aid kit. Go sit on the couch.”

  I went to the couch and nearly laughed when I saw him enter the room with a huge white metal case in hand.

  “That has to be the biggest first aid kit I’ve ever seen man.”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “My guess is you’ve seen them this big; they’re usually mounted on the wall in offices.”

  He put the box on the coffee table and opened it up, pulled out some gauze, alcohol wipes, and band aids. Using a pair of tweezers he’d carried in his other hand, he took out the glass shard.

  His green eyes gazed up at me. “You didn’t even feel that while you were vacuuming and shit?”

  I shook my head. “Thinking my brain was preoccupied with why a brick came sailing through my window. Did you find anything when you scoped out the house?”

  He gently wiped the area with an alcohol pad, making me hiss. “Sorry about that, honey. And no, I didn’t find anything. Could be dumbass teenagers, or something else. What’d you do with the brick?”

  “It’s on my nightstand. I touched it as little as possible so the cops can do their thing with it.”

  His head jerked up at me. His eyes alight with that weird curiosity. “Stephie. I’m an outlaw. We aren’t hard-core, but I don’t rely on the cops to get to the bottom of my problems. Especially not shit like this. It’s either a teenager who’s doin’ this shit for no good reason, or it might be a teen who’s snooping on you, which will piss me the fuck off
, or it’s something else. Bottom line, I’m not callin’ the cops for this shit.”

  “Oh,” I said in a small voice.

  He put a bandage on my leg and gave it a pat. “You’re all set. Now put on some clothes, and I’m not kidding you need better pajamas. Those leave nothing, and I do mean nothing, to a man’s imagination, baby. We’ve got to hit the hardware store before they close.”

  “Aye-aye, Har,” I muttered, standing.

  He smacked my ass and I gasped.

  “Don’t be a smart-ass, Stephanie.”

  Har

  HE JUST HAD TO SMACK that ass. And he shouldn’t have. The fire in her eyes went straight to his dick. Which meant when he smiled at her, it held an extra note of satisfaction resulting in her cute growl.

  To make his dick stand down, he thought about sleeping on the couch. She would be in his bed, because even if they found plywood for the window, he wouldn’t have her sleeping in that room.

  He expected her to take longer, but she sauntered out of the hallway in no time.

  “Ready to go when you are.”

  “Let’s hit it,” he said, and led her out of the house.

  His truck might be banged-up and old, but it had a working key fob allowing him to unlock the doors as they walked down the drive. He glanced at Stephanie as they approached their respective doors and wondered why she was biting back a smile. The moment he opened his door, he knew.

  He stood in the open door of his truck for a moment while she buckled in. Then he got in, buckled, and closed his door with a heavy sigh.

  He glared at Stephanie. “Do you know the number one rule in the South?”

  Her hazel eyes widened at him. “No, I can’t say that I do.”

  He reached over and grabbed the back of her neck giving her a gentle squeeze. “You never fuck with a man’s truck.”

  A devious grin spread on her face. “Then you should’ve learned the first rule of every biker, baby. You never fuck with her bike.”

  He rolled down the windows and reached under his seat. With the offending can of scent in hand, he lobbed it out onto his driveway. He turned back to her. “Didn’t think you had money to burn, Combes.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t, but that’s all right. As long as it doesn’t rain, I can put that in my room instead.”

  He shook his head and focused on getting them to the store.

  “WOW, THAT IS SOME BLANKET,” Stephanie said when he returned to the living room after his shower. “But I won’t need it. I get hot at night and heavy blankets aren’t my thing.”

  He closed his eyes against visions of her being hot at night.

  It had been bad enough an hour and a half ago when she helped him put up the plywood. She made a fantastic assistant and he didn’t know how she came by that knowledge, because her mother damn sure never lifted a finger when she’d been Brute’s stepmom. They got the plywood up, though it wasn’t as secure as he would’ve liked it, but he would get professionals on the job first thing tomorrow.

  When they came inside, Stephanie had cracked open a beer with a grimace. “Sorry, Har. But desperate times call for desperate measures, which means I have to take one of your beers.”

  Watching her tip her head back to chug beer was so sexy he forced himself to look away.

  “And hate to tell you this, but I’m gonna have to take another shower tonight. You really should let me contribute to the water bill, man.”

  He shook his head. “It’s all right, Combes. I’ll survive, but don’t count on your shower being too warm. I’ve been known to drain a hot water heater.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him as she shook her head. “You’re so full of it.”

  Now, they were both showered and in the living room.

  “Good to know you wouldn’t steal my heavy blanket, but you’re not sleeping on the couch, Combes. You’re in my room tonight, and I’m on the couch.”

  Her head tilted, so he spoke fast.

  “No arguments, woman. So, go on and get some rest.”

  She crossed her arms on her chest. “My futon is essentially a couch which converts to a bed, man. I should be on the couch for sure. So, you go on and get your rest.”

  “Woman, you don’t know if you’ll be sitting behind a table or standing on the casino floor day-to-day. You need to be in a bed.”

  Her chin dipped. “Meanwhile, I understand you’re doing custom paint jobs on bikes and small cars. You know you’ll be on your feet all day every day, so you should go rest... in your own bed.”

  “Then you come with me.”

  She blinked in surprise.

  He liked that. Liked it a lot.

  He kept at her. “Bonus for me, you say you get hot at night, so you shouldn’t steal my covers. Let’s go, or you won’t get dibs on the good side of the bed.”

  “The good side?” she asked as he walked past her.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “To be more accurate, any side of the bed because I’m a center-sleeper.”

  She growled, and he grinned behind her back. “I should just sleep in my bed and be done with it.”

  He whirled around. “You even think to sleep in that room tonight, I’ll tan your ass and enjoy every fuckin’ lick.”

  Her eyes widened while color rose in her cheeks, and he saw her throat bob with her swallow.

  Dammit.

  He needed to put his foot down. It was his house for fuck’s sake, and if he wanted to sleep on his couch, he could damn well sleep on his couch.

  “Go. Get to sleep. I’ll be in there when Sports Center is done,” he semi-lied.

  She acquiesced, retreating to his room, and he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

  He sat down on the couch watching talking heads argue about the upcoming college football season, but his mind worked overtime as he tried to figure out who would lob a brick into his house. And whether they were lobbing the brick into his house or if they were aiming for Stephanie.

  He needed to ask her about that poker game. As she had said herself, desperate times called for desperate measures and risking an entire paycheck was a damn desperate measure. A glance at the corner of the screen told him she’d been in his room for twenty minutes.

  She might still be awake. It would be better to talk about this now than in the morning.

  He shut down the TV, turned off the lights and double-checked the locks on the doors before hitting his room.

  When he opened his door, he nearly tripped. No woman had been to his house other than his sister and his mother. The sight of Stephanie’s dark hair splayed on a pillow and her curvy body in his bed forced him to stutter-step. The only reason he could see her at all was because she’d left his bedside lamp on for him.

  Fuck, she looked good there.

  He trudged into his walk-in closet and swapped his gray sweatpants for a pair of pajama pants he’d cut off at the knee. With his arm behind his head, he tugged on the neck of his undershirt, but stopped as he thought better of it.

  When he approached his bed, he wondered if she were retaliating against him again. Her hair was spread over a single pillow, but her body was angled so she took up the right side and most of the center portion of the bed.

  He chuckled quietly and climbed in beside her. “You actually asleep, Steph?” he whispered.

  “No,” she whispered, pulling a leg away from the center of the bed.

  His every instinct told him to keep his hands to himself, but something about her made him itch to hold her. Even though it might get him kneed in the balls, he slid an arm under her shoulders and pulled her to his body. His legs shifted as he situated her so their torsos and legs were even, but their groins were not in contact.

  “What are you doing, Michael?”

  He smiled. “About time you got something right, Stephanie.”

  She chuckled. “Your name? As if. What’s the big idea?”

  Her hand rested high on his bicep, pleasing him.

  He exhaled evenly. “The big idea is I need to
know something and I want you to be honest no matter how embarrassed or proud you might be.”

  She chuckled, but this one was nervous. “Okay. Don’t know why I should be embarrassed, but what do you need to know?”

  His plan to keep a certain type of distance between them was no good. Realizing that, he pulled her flush with his body, even if that meant his dick would respond.

  “Want to know why you signed an entire paycheck over to Jenkins the first night I saw you again.”

  Pulling her close had been the right call. She stiffened and shoved against his arm to get away.

  “Stephie, I’m not judging. You did what you did. I want to know why, because a brick through a window? It’s the move of someone who’s desperate... unless it’s a teenager with nothing better to do or no better sense about what they do.”

  She relaxed slightly.

  In a gentle tone, he added, “You told me what that douchebag did to you. So, if you were trying to double your money the best way you could, I get it. Hell, if it hadn’t been for me, you’d probably have come out ahead that night.”

  She sighed.

  He let the quiet go for some time before he stroked her back. “All right. You don’t want to talk—”

  “He doesn’t know where I am.”

  He looked down at her, but her eyes were glued to his chest. “Okay.”

  She looked up at him. “I mean, he never met Suzy or Mom. For some damn reason I never introduced him and he never asked about my parents. As far as I know, he didn’t know I had family around.”

  Har found that fishy, but let it go. “All right, honey, but what are you—”

  “I’m saying, once he got what he could out of me, Wycliffe or whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is was done with me.”

  He nodded and felt the bed shake because of it. “And you didn’t leave Jacksonville until well over two years after he stole from you.”

  “Right,” she whispered.

  “Then why a whole paycheck to Jenkins?”

  She inhaled but he heard her breath catch. “I wanted to get ahead. It’s weird, but I’ve watched several dealers do well in the World Series of Poker and on the World Poker Tour. When I first started dealing, I didn’t understand how a dealer-turned-player had any advantage, but more and more I get it. When I’m dealing I don’t have skin in the game, I can sit back and watch everyone at the table. And better than that, I’m not some schmoe at a party who wants to try their hand at commentating on the flop or what someone’s big bet might or might not represent. That shit is frowned upon at work. So I have time to get reads on people, which is much harder to do when you’re in a hand. You’re wrapped up in your cards, what cards you need to see fall or not fall. It’s crazy but I knew I had an advantage from my day job.”