by Meghan March
Elle’s chin shot up. “Trust me, I’m not looking for anyone to chase me. In fact, the chase is decidedly unwelcome.” She jerked her head to the side, flipping a lock of that sexy-as-fuck red hair out of her face. “I’m the kind of girl who does the chasing herself. I see what I want, and I get it.”
She tried to duck out from under my arm, but I lowered it, blocking her escape.
Elle’s eyes darted up to mine. “If you didn’t realize it, I’m trying to get out of your way. I think I’ve already taken up enough of your time tonight. I’ll let you get going now.”
I dropped my hand to her hip. It was becoming my favorite place to grab hold of her—well, except for that sweet curve of her ass.
I didn’t care that she was trying to get away. Not right now. I was starting to understand why she was so skittish about getting pinned down by a guy, so I needed her to hear me, and hear me good. “What happens between us is only about you and me. Leave all of the bullshit out of it. I ain’t your stepdad. I ain’t looking to fence you in or hold you down. But I do refuse to settle for scraps from you. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it for real. That’s my one condition.”
She looked up at me, eyes big and lost. But I wasn’t backing down. This woman was worth it. Worth fighting for, even if I was fighting her.
“I wasn’t lying when I said any time you need me, all you have to do is call. I may not be anyone’s version of a white knight, but I’ll still be coming.”
Something flickered across her expression, but it was gone before I could identify it. She crossed her arms over her chest—a position I was becoming very familiar with. I wondered if she’d close down again, but she didn’t.
“I’m not the kind of girl who needs a white knight. They’re boring anyway,” she said.
“Then to make sure you’re not getting bored, I want my payment before you go runnin’ off.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and she cocked a hip, a pretty smile settling over her face. “Payment, huh? That’s not a surprise coming from the guy buying and selling stuff all day.”
I let my own smile loose before I lowered my head another couple inches and paused, my lips millimeters from hers. “Fucking meet me the rest of the way, woman. Show me you want this,” I ordered. I wondered how long she’d hesitate, but Elle didn’t disappoint; she closed the last gap between us and gave me exactly what I wanted.
Just like the kiss out in front of her stepdad’s place, this one threatened to rage out of control. If my brain were still functioning, I might start wondering why kissing this woman was better than sex with any other.
But my brain wasn’t running on all cylinders; I was charging forward on pure lust and instinct. Sliding a hand into that silky red hair, I took and took until my dick decided to get involved, and I remembered where we were—standing on the street. I pulled back but didn’t release her.
“You and me. We’re going out, and we’re gonna see where this takes us.”
Elle blinked several times before focusing on my face. “What? No, I didn’t agree—”
“You and me. A date. It’s happening.”
“But—”
“Tuesday. Be ready.” I released her so she could make a run for it.
She strutted away, all sexy attitude.
“We’ll see, pawn star. We’ll see.”
I watched until she disappeared inside.
Can’t fucking wait for Tuesday.
I was grinning. The silly, stupid little grin of a woman who’d had the hell kissed out of her—again—by a guy who proved over and over that he really knew how to kiss.
But Lord was not following the rules I’d laid out when he’d piqued my interest. He was supposed to be dumbfounded by my sexiness—which arguably he was—but then he was supposed to take what I was offering, bang the hell out of me until I couldn’t remember my own name, and then he was supposed to move on. That was it. Game. Set. Match. End of story.
I should’ve guessed a guy who grew up on the streets—and became the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on—wouldn’t fall neatly into the program I’d outlined. This was a problem. And the even bigger problem? Those kisses were tempting me to deviate from the goddamn plan.
No, Elle. Bad, Elle. There’s a reason you don’t date—because that means giving up the independence you’ve busted your ass to maintain—and you’re not about to lose it now.
My mental pep talk stuttered to a jarring stop when I stepped inside. In front of my gate was a bottle. Of champagne.
Dom. With a slip of paper tucked behind the corner of the label.
Holy. Shit.
I crouched down, my hands shaking as I reached for the paper. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the note that had accompanied the other bottle, but it didn’t take a Nobel Prize Laureate to guess who sent this.
Wanted to make sure you got this bottle. Be waiting on you, Red.
A shiver ripped through me. It was almost eighty degrees in the non-air conditioned lobby, and yet all the blood in my body was freezing.
Holy fucking shit.
I jammed my hand into my purse, pulled out my keys, and stabbed one into the lock on the gate. The bottle slid across the tile floor as I pulled the gate just wide enough for me to slip inside before slamming it shut. I left it there—on the floor—as I ran up the stairs two at a time and let myself into my apartment.
Holy fucking shit.
Rix knew where I lived.
And he hadn’t given up.
This was not good. This was really not good. And now I was flipping the fuck out, and there was a bottle of Dom at the base of the stairway that could de-stress me like a champ. It was practically calling my name.
No. Not going there.
I looked down at my purse. The note stuck to the purple lining, and my phone was tucked in the pocket next to it.
All I had to do was grab it and call the number I’d texted earlier tonight. Lord would be at my gate in minutes. And then what? He’d go hunting down Rix?
Shit.
The idea of him going after a guy like Rix scared me just as much as knowing that Rix knew where I lived. Yes, Lord could handle himself, I was sure of that. He was the most capable guy I’d ever met … but what if Lord hurt him and the gang came after him? Lord might be fierce against one guy, but a whole crew? I wasn’t betting against Lord, but I couldn’t put him in that kind of position. Because I cared too much about what happened to him.
Shit. I’m already getting in deep.
I couldn’t make the call. At least not tonight. I needed to woman up and face my problems.
I reached into my purse, bypassing my phone, and grabbed something else entirely: my gun.
I cleared every room of my apartment like I’d seen on those TV cop shows before double-checking the deadbolts and the windows. Finally, I washed my face and curled up in the corner of my bed and tried to sleep.
The blue numbers on the face of my alarm clock mocked me as every hour passed.
“Thanks for the ride, babe,” I said as I slid into Vanessa’s Mercedes and shut the door.
My best friend’s smile was wide and genuine. It chased away some of the bad feelings still stalking me. After my sleepless night on Sunday, I’d dragged ass all day Monday. Oh, and I’d been too paranoid to leave my house. So much for facing my problems. But … when I’d gotten a text from Lord this morning saying he couldn’t give me a ride, and he added that I “damn well better not walk,” I didn’t quibble. I called Vanessa. Sometimes I wondered how I got so lucky that she put up with my special brand of crazy.
Vanessa shifted the car into drive before saying, “You know I’m here for you any time. I miss our drives to and from work.”
Her smile dimmed a few watts, and I knew it was because she was thinking about the reason we no longer worked together. Words fell from my mouth without thought as I grasped for a change of subject.
“So do you think Con has a bigger dick than Lord? Or do you think Lord’s dick is bigger, because h
e’s the older brother?”
I didn’t say it was a good subject change. It was just a change.
Vanessa slammed on the brakes. We were at an intersection, so this was as the law demanded … but the force with which she hit them might have been a little more intense than necessary.
She snapped her head sideways to look at me. “Seriously? Are you seriously asking me if I’ve seen my boyfriend’s brother’s penis? And—just to be sure I’m clear—you want to know if maybe when I saw it, I got out a ruler and measured to compare?”
We were both silent for a moment—staring hard at each other—before we erupted into laughter.
That was all it took for the shadow to be eradicated and Vanessa’s light to shine brightly again.
“You’re insane. You know that, right? And even if I did know—which I don’t—I would never admit it,” she said.
“So basically I can’t trust that you’re telling me the truth?”
Vanessa flipped her blinker on and changed lanes.
“More importantly, do you have any idea what you’re doing? With Lord, I mean?
I directed my eyes forward and away from Vanessa’s sideways gaze. “Nope. Not a damn clue.”
She slowed at another stop and stared at me.
“He’s not your normal party guy looking for a good time, Elle. I don’t know him as well as I’d like to, but that’s because he doesn’t really let anyone get close. He won’t even let Con tell people they’re related. And he’s got this intensity that outdoes even Con’s. Then there’s you—you might as well tattoo don’t even freaking think about it on your forehead with how much you keep guys at a distance. I’m just not sure how I see this working out.”
I crossed my legs, my hands fidgeting in my lap. “I know. I’m kind of freaking out.”
“But you’re not shutting him down?”
I shrugged and bit my lip. “He said we’re going on a date tonight … I don’t think I’m going to say no.”
“That’s not a bad start. If you were going to break your rules for anyone, he’s a great choice. And I know he’s really into you.”
My eyes cut to her. “What have you heard?”
“He laid it out for Con that he was going for it with you, and it wasn’t going to be a one night thing.”
No he did not.
“Seriously?”
“Yep. Wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to be an issue for us if you guys were … whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I can’t believe he did that.” Although, I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked—he’d said he didn’t want to stir up shit with Con by one-nighting me.
Van glanced at me for a beat before her eyes went back to the road. “He and Con are really close, probably closer than they would have been if they hadn’t been separated. It doesn’t surprise me at all that they’d discuss it.”
But still, the fact that he’d actually talked to Con about it and made sure it wasn’t a problem? That meant he really was serious. I was venturing into new territory here, and I was fumbling my way through it.
Vanessa slowed as we neared Chains and cursed when she realized she was going to have to parallel park halfway up the street.
“You can just let me out here. You don’t need to park.”
“Shush. We’re not done with this conversation. Besides, I’m fully capable of parallel parking.”
I bit my lip and said nothing as Vanessa attempted the parking job three times. On the fourth try, she finally slid into the spot. She didn’t waste a second before putting the car in park and turning to me. “So you’re not sleeping with him yet? It’s been over a day since he and Con had the talk, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to waste time. I call bullshit.”
Oh hell. Bulldog Vanessa is coming out to play, and I’m the target.
“I’m going to be late for work. I should go.” I reached for the door handle, but Vanessa slapped her hand over the lock button. I tugged on the latch and hit my own lock button. Nothing.
I jerked around to look at her.
“Seriously? Child locks?”
She raised a blond eyebrow in response. It clearly communicated one word: spill.
I sighed. “No. I’m not sleeping with him. Or fucking him in the stockroom. Or getting off in any way except self-help. Happy?”
“Are you going to?”
I thought about how drop dead sexy the man was. Did I want to? Hell yes. But things would get exponentially more complicated after. And still…
“Of course. How could I say no to that?”
Vanessa smiled, and then it slipped away. “Just be careful, okay? You’re both important to me. No matter what happens or doesn’t, I’m going to love you both, but … just be careful.” Vanessa’s words were sincere, and it reminded me once again why I was so lucky to have her in my life. For some people, it was the family they’d been born into who looked out for them and hit the child lock button when a come-to-Jesus talk was in order. For others, it was the family they’d chosen themselves.
“I will, I promise. Love you too, Van.”
“You’ll call me if you need me?”
“You know I will, babe.” I grabbed the door handle again. “Now I really am going to be late for work.”
Vanessa laughed and hit the button, granting me freedom.
I climbed out of the car, shut the door, and waved as she pulled away. Turning, I began walking the hundred or so feet to the door of Chains. I only had about ten yards to go when a sharp voice stopped me.
“Dayum, baby. I can see why Rix wants you so fuckin’ bad. Those curves could stop traffic. Makes me wanna peel that dress off you and see ’em for myself.”
I froze, even though instinct told me to keep walking toward the door. My feet were riveted to the sidewalk at the sight of the man stepping out from between the buildings. His jeans hung low, and his grayish-white wife beater had seen better days. Black ink circled the dark skin of his bicep and snaked down his arm, ending in what looked like the head of a cobra.
Why was I noticing his tat? I should be running for the safety of the shop. I gripped my purse tight to my chest and stepped forward. But he sidestepped, and his arm shot out.
“Where ya going, baby? Leaving so soon? I just wanna talk wit’ ya. See what has Rix so fucked up over ya.”
“Please move out of my way. I need to get to work.” I kept my tone serious, assertive. I was not backing down.
The smile on his face faded into a harsh flat line—and just like that, his attitude flipped. “You can go when I say you can go, bitch.”
“Charming,” I mumbled.
“’scuse me? You say somethin’?”
I bit my tongue. Literally—and hard. The tang of copper filled my mouth. But even that didn’t stop my ill-advised words. “I said that’s just charming. If this is your way of—” The mini tirade that was brewing and boiling over out of me cut off prematurely when the ’Cuda slammed to a stop—double parked and facing the wrong direction—a few feet to my right.
The door flew open, and Lord was out and on the sidewalk before I could completely comprehend what was happening.
“Get inside the store, Elle,” he said. His eyes—blazing blue and flaring with anger—landed on me for only a fraction of a second before spearing the man with the cobra tattoo. I decided not arguing was in my best interest.
I tried to go around the guy, but he sidestepped with me again and continued to block my way.
“Back off, man. Right the fuck now.” Lord’s voice had dropped to a growl, and the man’s attention jumped from me to Lord. I took the opportunity to dodge around him and race for the door. Part of me wanted to stay on the sidewalk, listening in on what was sure to be an enlightening ass-ripping, but I was too shaken to enjoy it.
Their voices were raised, and expletives flew back and forth as I reached Chains. Mathieu was already pushing the door open, probably wanting to know what was going on.
“Dude, Jiminy hassling you?”
Jiminy? Is he a fucking cricket handing out advice? Because he looked like a gangbanger with a gun shoved in the back of his boxers—which were riding much higher than his sagging jeans.
“Omigod. He’s got a gun,” I whispered to Mathieu.
The boy snorted. “Like Lord don’t? He can take care of himself. Fuck, he don’t need a gun to take Jiminy out. He could kill him a dozen different ways with his bare hands. Spec Ops, you know? That ain’t for pussies.” Mathieu’s words were all colored with undeniable pride. His chest puffed up, and he added, “Plus, I’ve always got his back.”
For a moment I’d forgotten how capable Lord was. He was trained to kill. Had killed. That didn’t scare me. Actually, it was kind of … comforting.
Mathieu swore, and I focused my attention again on what was playing out on the sidewalk.
Jiminy was reaching for his gun. Lord grabbed the gun and his arm, whipped him around, and pinned him face first on the sidewalk before even a whisper of the scream building in my lungs could escape my lips. Lord crouched low, his face close to the man’s—which was pressed to the broken concrete. Neither of us could make out what he was saying, but I could see twisted anger on Jiminy’s smashed face. And then in a blink, Lord dragged him up to his feet by the scruff of his neck, as though he weighed nothing. Jiminy’s lips started to move, but Lord tossed him against the side of a beat-up Tahoe parked at the curb and turned toward the shop. He never looked back.
Lord was only a half dozen feet away when he said, “Told you to go inside, Elle. You’d best do that now.”
I looked over Lord’s shoulder to where Jiminy stood, still leaning against the Tahoe, one hand on the back of his neck, rubbing it, and the other hand poised in the shape of a gun. He glared at us and cocked his thumb.
I turned, not wanting to see anymore, and led the way inside.
For the second time in recent memory, chills rippled through me despite the Louisiana heat.
I followed Elle inside, slammed the door, and flipped the sign to closed. What needed to be said didn’t require an audience.