Tracker's End

by Chantal Fernando

“No, I haven’t.” I straight out lie because I have no idea what else to say.

  “You should,” she says, wide-eyed. She steps away from Clover and whispers to me, “I can’t believe some of the shit that’s happening in the novel right now. And damn, the woman knows how to write a sex scene. I even replayed a few of the scenes with my husband. Trust me, he wasn’t complaining one bit.”

  I feel my face heating at the thought.

  Oh wow. A little too much information.

  “Oh,” is all I manage to say. “Sounds . . . fun.”

  Faye laughs in response. “The men are so dominant. It’s hot. And the storylines are always captivating and unique. Do you read much?”

  I nod, knowing this is a question I can answer. “Yeah, at least a book a week.”

  “We should start a book club,” she says, nodding her head with her eyes narrowed. “Biker chicks book club. It’s going to be a big thing, I can tell.”

  I’m not a biker chick, but I didn’t bother to point that out.

  “We should read a few biker books and dissect them for their accuracy,” she says, grinning. “I never read them because most of them are so off base. So I stick to contemporary romances. I like the ones where the heroine is snarky and full of sass, making the hero put up with a lot of shit.”

  I purse my lips to hold in my laughter. “Does Sin put up with a lot of shit?”

  She smiles, and it reaches her eyes. “You have no idea.”

  “You two are so cute!” I blurt out.

  Amusement flashes on her face. “Never been called cute before, at least not to my face. I like you, Lana.”

  “I like you too,” I reply, glancing down shyly.

  “Dex—or Sin as everyone here calls him—and I grew up together. We had a one-night stand, and I ended up getting pregnant with Clover that night,” she says, smirking. “Been harassing his life ever since.”

  My eyes widen. “That sounds like quite a story.”

  “You have no idea,” she repeats.

  “Lana!” Clover yells, demanding our attention. “How come you’re not dressed up like a princess?”

  I glance at Faye, confused. Why would I be dressed like a princess?

  “Today is Emily’s party, remember?” Clover adds, clapping. “That’s why I’m a princess. I wanted to dress like a biker princess, but Daddy said no.”

  Right, shit. I forgot about that. Today I was taking her to a kid’s birthday party.

  Biker princess? I wasn’t touching that one.

  Faye laughs, bringing my gaze back to her. “Forgot, did you? The invitation with the address is on the fridge. You just have to go and sit there while they play, then bring her home. You okay with that?”

  I nod. “Sure. Sounds easy enough.”

  Faye kisses her daughter. “I wish I could be there with you today, Clover, but I know you and Lana will have a good time.”

  “I know you have to work sometimes, Mommy,” Clover replies.

  “I promise: next party, I’ll be the one to take you,” Faye tells her daughter. “The present is on top of the TV, Lana. Call me if you have any problems. And good luck.”

  “We’ll be fine, won’t we, Clover?”

  Clover grins in response.

  “Here,” Faye says, handing me the book. “Read it. You’ll love it!”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” I say, trying to hand it back to her. “You’re still reading it.”

  “No, no, I insist. This is my second time reading it,” she says with a laugh. “Return it when you’re done. You won’t regret it!”

  I awkwardly take the book with a smile, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

  Mother and daughter say ’bye once more, while I tidy up the kitchen a little.

  “Oh, and Lana—?” Faye calls out as she grabs her handbag. She’s a lawyer and is dressed in a professional yet sexy black suit that hugs her curves. I can see why Sin chose her over all other women. “One of the men will drive you there.”

  “Oh, I can drive, it’s no problem,” I tell her instantly.

  Faye shrugs, her eyes taking on an amused glint. “He insisted.”

  She waves and exits through the front door, leaving me standing there.

  “Who insisted?” I say to myself.

  “I did,” Tracker says, walking up to me dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a sleepy grin.

  My eyes flare as they take in the glory that is his body.

  Wow. I mean . . . wow.

  Rather than being bulky, he is lean and sculpted. Perfectly muscular. Covered in tattoos, the largest begins at his shoulder and wraps around his right pec. The artistic eagle looks as though it’s swooping down on its prey, hunger and death in its eyes. Smoke and clouds surround it, working with his body to create texture and dimension. It’s captivating. Smaller tattoos mark his neck, and he has a half sleeve that extends from his wrist to his elbow.

  I want to trace every one of those tattoos with my tongue.

  “Ummm,” I mutter, now focusing on his sexy V. “’Morning.” Delicious.

  “’Morning, Lana,” he says, amusement lacing his voice.

  I look up, coming out of my reverie, blushing that I’ve been caught staring. “Hi.”

  “You wanna come give me a morning hug and kiss?”

  Before I can open my mouth to object, he adds, “On the cheek.”

  “No,” I say. It takes all my willpower to resist him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He quirks his eyebrow. I think he’s genuinely surprised. I mean, of course he is. How many women would say no to that? Just crazy old me.

  “It’s just a hug, Lana.”

  I can tell that he’s daring me. If I say no, he will know that I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself. But if I do embrace him, I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself either. My stubbornness wins.

  Closing the space between us, I wrap my arms around his bare waist and rest my head on his warm chest. I’m awkward and tense at first, but my body relaxes against him. It comes naturally. He kisses my hair and I sigh. Starting to feel a little too comfortable in this position, I pull away. I stand there in silence for a moment, shifting uncomfortably.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he says with a smile.

  “It wasn’t completely unbearable.”

  He lets out a bark of laughter.

  “Heard we’re on a birthday mission today,” he murmurs, blue eyes soft and sleepy.

  “Heard you volunteered,” I reply with a sardonic brow.

  “Faye needs to keep her mouth shut,” he says with no heat in his voice. “I just thought it would be a good idea if someone tagged along. Made sure you didn’t get into trouble.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s Anna who gets into trouble, not me.”

  “We’ll see,” he says with a boyish grin. “You get the princess sorted while I take a quick shower.”

  I push up my glasses, images of him in the shower flashing through my dirty mind. “O-okay.”

  Real smooth, Lana. I hate how nervous I get around him.

  Another knowing grin and he heads to his bathroom.

  Of course I stand there and watch his bare back as he leaves. Some women like abs, some like nice eyes. I like those things too, but I have a thing for a sexy, strong, muscular back.

  And Tracker’s back is hot. Broad, tanned, toned, and tattooed.

  The intricate dragon tattoo staring at me is fierce and symbolic.

  The Wind Dragons MC.

  A reminder that he’s one of them.

  And who am I?

  Anna’s friend. Clover’s nanny.

  I don’t belong on the back of a bike. I lead a quieter, simpler life. One with privacy. But I also have a secret. I run my hand over the cover of the book Faye had handed me.

  When they say it’s the quiet ones you should look out for, I think they’re referring to me.

  People think I’m a prude, virginal, even innocent. And maybe I am, but my mind is
n’t.

  It is uninhibited, imaginative, and creative.

  Which is how I became Zada Ryan, bestselling erotic romance author.

  * * *

  No one but my mother knows I am Zada Ryan, not even Anna. I started writing in high school after she left, and I never stopped. I wrote about sex. A lot. My mind would run wild, and all my fantasies, thoughts, and dreams would end up on paper. I wasn’t a virgin, but I wasn’t exactly experienced, so I did a lot of research. I read books; I watched movies; I studied couples out in public. I’m always paying attention to those around me. I’m not embarrassed of my career; I just want to remain anonymous. It’s a secret side of me that only I know about—it’s mine, and I don’t want to share it.

  When I sent my manuscript to an agent, I never thought they’d want me. But they did. When a publisher made me an offer, I was over the moon. The money was amazing, but I would have done it for free. It was my dream. I never imagined my books would become so big. I had so many other books already written that the publisher published one of my books every other month for the last year and a half.

  I paid off my mom’s house. I bought myself a car. Mom and I always struggled with money when I was growing up, so I can’t describe how good it feels to be able not to worry about finances, and to help my mom after everything she’s done for me. She sacrificed a lot as a single mother, working hard so I could have everything I needed, and I wanted to repay her in some way.

  I didn’t have much left after that, but that was perfectly fine with me. When Anna suggested I take the job as Clover’s nanny, I couldn’t say no without telling her how I was now earning my money. I’m currently not on any deadlines, other than those set by myself, and I really had nothing better to do with my time. The truth is, I have a bad case of writer’s block. I wanted a new book idea, but nothing was coming to me, so I thought stepping back and doing something else might help. I had no qualifications or anything like that. I didn’t even know many kids, but I liked them and they seemed to like me. Plus, I was responsible. So I googled what needs a girl Clover’s age would have and went from there.

  Besides, making an effort to get out of the house was a good idea for me, because all I normally do when I’m not at school is stay at home writing. I don’t really have any friends, apart from Anna, and I’ve lived in this town my whole life. It sounds sad, but I’m an introvert and usually enjoy my own company. Having Anna back though has made me consider getting my own place now and branching out. It’s time.

  “Lana?”

  I almost forgot Clover is even here. Some nanny I am. “Hi, cutie.”

  “I put on the TV,” she says, pointing to the living room. “I am watching Adventure Time. Want to watch it with me?”

  “We can watch until Tracker gets ready, but then we have to go, okay?”

  She scowls. “Why is Uncle Tracker coming?”

  My eyes widen. I know she loves Tracker, so I’m taken aback at her cute little fierce expression. “Why, don’t you want him to come?”

  She steps closer, placing her chubby little hand on mine and lowering her voice. “There’s a boy there that I like. The boys don’t get to be princesses; they get to be pirates. Uncle Tracker will scare him away. He told me so.”

  I purse my lips to contain my laughter. “You’re a little young for boys, Clover, honey, don’t you think?” I give her a wink. “In ten years you’re going to drive them all crazy.”

  She sighs, her plump cheeks puffing in frustration. “Daddy says all boys will be too scared to come near me.”

  Her daddy is right. I don’t think any boys or men will want to date a MC president’s daughter, unless they are stupid. Sin is scary as hell. Not to mention everyone else in the MC—Arrow, Tracker, Rake, Irish, Ronan, Trace, Vinnie, and the rest of them.

  I wonder who she’ll end up with one day. I hope it’s someone worthy of her.

  “Well, you have a long time before you need to worry about that, I think,” I tell her, not knowing what else to say.

  “I guess,” she says before giving me a cheeky grin. “Plus, Mommy will be on my side!”

  I laugh, agreeing with her, before I usher her toward the living room. “Let’s watch.”

  We watch TV for about fifteen minutes before Tracker shows up, smelling fresh and dressed in dark jeans and a white T-shirt. His hair is damp, looking darker than it usually is, and pulled back in a bun.

  He lifts his chin. “Ready when you are.”

  I allow myself to gawk at him for a moment. How am I supposed to put up my defenses against a man who looks so good, smells so good, wants me, and is so charming and easy to talk to?

  I drag my eyes away from him. “Let’s do it. Looks like I’m going to a kid’s birthday party with the MC princess and a badass biker,” I say, then pause. “Never thought I’d ever have to say that sentence.”

  Tracker’s lips quirk. “We don’t want the MC princess to be late, do we?”

  I glance between the two of them, sigh, then lead the way.

  * * *

  “What do you mean you don’t like the way that boy looked at her?” I ask incredulously. Clover was right, Tracker should have stayed home. He’s acting like an overprotective, paranoid father.

  “You didn’t see how he was lookin’ at her?” Tracker asks, eyes narrowed. “He’s older than her too, why the fuck is she hanging out with a dude older than her?”

  I roll my eyes. “He’s seven, Tracker. Seven.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes not leaving Clover. “Yeah, well, she’s only six. Where’s the kid’s dad? Maybe I’ll scare the shit out of him just in case. Make sure he keeps his boy in line.”

  “In case of what? You’re being ridiculous!” I place my small hand on his biceps. “Let them be; they’re kids. You’re overreacting. Now, I’m going to get some food. Do you want me to make a plate for you, too?”

  His gaze leaves Clover then and focuses steady on me. “I’d like that.”

  “Okay,” I say quietly, standing up and walking to the table where all the food is set out. Grabbing two paper plates, I’m placing some cold cuts on them when someone stands next to me. Raising my eyes, I smile politely at the older gentleman while continuing to load the plates.

  “Hello,” the man says. He’s tall, well built, and has the look of a man who was very good-looking in his youth. His salt-and-pepper hair is carefully styled, and he’s dressed with casual sophistication in slacks and a white button-up. “I’m Dan. Zen’s father.”

  Zen was the kid playing with Clover.

  “I’m Lana,” I say, smiling and offering him my hand. “I’m here with Clover. Her mom had to work,” I explain.

  He nods, turning his body to me. “Yes, Faye told me she is a lawyer. Must be hard to juggle work and being a mother.”

  “That’s why she has me,” I add, grinning.

  “Are you single?” Dan asks, staring at me boldly, his eyes unblinking.

  Oh, wow.

  I chew on my bottom lip. Yes, I am single, but I don’t want him to be interested. I’m not really attracted to him, to be honest. He isn’t my type, and all I have on my mind is the biker whose food I am currently getting.

  “I guess so,” I mumble, hating being put on the spot, then cringe, glancing up at him apologetically. “Not the most articulate answer.”

  “Not exactly,” he chuckles, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Does that mean you’re available or not?”

  “Yes to being single, no to being available,” I say, blushing and looking away for a second, before daring to glance back at his face. “I’m not with anyone, but I’m not looking for anything right now.”

  Although I’m flattered, I don’t really want his attentions. I don’t want to be mean either, or hurt his feelings. I’m sure he’s genuinely nice and perfect for many other women out there, just not me.

  He smiles knowingly. “That’s when they find you, when you’re not looking.”

  I have no idea what to say
. I’m about to reply when a large hand wraps around my waist. I know it’s Tracker by the smell of leather and faint spicy cologne.

  “She’s taken,” he practically growls. “Extremely fuckin’ taken.”

  I swallow hard, hating myself for loving Tracker’s possessiveness.

  It doesn’t mean anything, I tell myself over and over.

  Does it?

  He’s made it clear he wants me, but he seems like a man who wants a lot of women, gets them, conquers them, and then moves on to the next. How could I not get attached? Hell, I already am. I’m going to get hurt, I know it.

  It’s inevitable.

  “I see,” Dan replies, straightening. “You can’t blame a man for trying.”

  He smiles awkwardly, more of a grimace, then leaves.

  I feel bad for the guy as he glances back with a scared look on his face. Tracker is intimidating, with his big arm around me and a scowl darkening his features, so I don’t blame him.

  I step out of Tracker’s arms and give him a dirty look he ignores, instead picking up our plates and walking back to our seats, me trailing behind him. He waits for me to sit down, places a plate gently on my lap, then sits down himself. I don’t know why, but I find his actions charming. Chivalrous, even. He eats one of the small sandwiches in one bite, then grabs a chicken leg.

  “What was that?” I ask, nibbling on a sandwich, then putting it back down on my plate.

  “What was what?” he asks, eyes back on Clover, his own plate of food quickly disappearing.

  I sigh, suddenly not feeling very hungry. “Never mind.”

  “Did you want him?” he asks me suddenly. I lift my face from my plate to look into his eyes.

  “No, of course not,” I tell him. “That’s not the point.”

  I don’t really know what the point is anymore, besides the fact that I am both turned on and annoyed.

  “Good. Then we don’t have anything to discuss,” he says calmly, picking up the gummy worms on his plate and casually putting them on mine.

  “You don’t like gummy worms?” I ask, biting the head off a soft blue-and-yellow one.

  “Nope,” he says, licking his lips. “Not a fan. I like watching you eat them though.”

  I look away from his heated gaze, ignoring his quiet chuckle.