Tracker's End

by Chantal Fernando

  I shyly take another bite, not looking at him. He is a lot. A lot to take in. A lot of man.

  “You’re cute when you get all shy on me,” he says, and I can hear the amusement in his tone. “Your cheeks go a pretty pink. It suits you.”

  He really is free with his compliments. Is he like this with every woman he wants? I want to believe that I’m different, but I’m not naïve enough to think so. Or at least I don’t think I am.

  “Glad to amuse,” I reply, taking another bite and chewing slowly. I shift on my seat, feeling his gaze on me. Tracker always makes me squirm. With just a look, he can turn me inside out. How does he do that? It isn’t fair.

  “You more than amuse, Lana. You intrigue. Can’t remember the last time I paid this much attention to a woman,” he says, sounding surprised himself.

  I cut my eyes to him and say dryly, “You really need to work on your pickup lines.”

  He chuckles, eyes sparkling with humor. “Pickup lines are for men who need to talk shit to get a woman in bed. I tell the truth. Say what you want, but at least I’m real. With me, what you see is what you get. I don’t have to lie to get pussy.”

  “Can you not say pussy?” I hiss. “We’re at a kid’s party.” I glance around, making sure no one heard. People probably think we are the worst babysitters ever.

  Tracker looks down at me like I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “You’re so different from Anna.”

  I eye him. What did he mean by that? In a good or bad way?

  “How so?” I ask.

  “You’re quiet and shy; she’s not. She’s blunt. Edgy. You’re sweet and gentle, but strong too. It’s a mix I can’t seem to get enough of.”

  “Opposites attract,” I reply, addressing his original statement. “Anna and I just get along really well somehow. She’s a good friend. She’s also sweet and gentle—everyone has different sides to them. There’s more to me than being a little shy. Yes, I can take a while to open up, but once you know me I don’t shut up.”

  “That’s true. I didn’t mean to put you in a box, I know you’re more complex than that.” He pauses. “Anna is very protective of you,” he says, eyes scanning my face. “Which tells me a lot.”

  “Like what?” I ask, interested in what he has to say.

  He rubs his palm down his jawline, and I can hear the stubble rasp against his touch. I stifle a sudden urge to run my cheek along the same path. “If you inspire such loyalty, it tells me you’re a good woman. Anna isn’t the type of woman to just stick up for anyone. And she fuckin’ adores you. Claws out, ready to swipe at just the mention of your name. She loves me and we’re pretty close friends, but for you she will get up in my face ready to fight twelve rounds. I think you’re the only one she’ll do that for.”

  I smile warmly at the thought of Anna always trying to protect me. “She’s my best friend. We have each other’s backs no matter what. If she needs me, I’ll be there and vice versa. Everyone needs an Anna in their lives, or at least someone they can trust. You have your brothers; I have Anna.”

  “You have my brothers too,” he murmurs. “The club will always look after you.”

  I smile. “See, Anna just keeps on looking after me.”

  He nods his head slowly. “That’s because you’re a damn good woman.”

  I smile awkwardly, not quite sure what to say to that, while glancing back over at Clover to make sure she’s all right. When I see her laughing and playing with some other kids, I turn my attention back to Tracker.

  “And you’re good with kids,” he continues. “You have that perfect mix of gorgeous, down-to-earth, and outright fucking sexy. Wifey material. Old-lady material. The type of woman who gets in deep.”

  My eyes widen at his description. “And you got all that from the few times we’ve been together?” Is this how he really sees me? I don’t think any man has seen me as the type of woman who “gets in deep.” He thinks I’m outright sexy? I must be hallucinating.

  “I’ve been watching you for a while, Lana. It’s not like this thing just formed overnight,” he continues, cutting into my thoughts.

  “What thing?” I ask, still stuck on his compliments.

  He gestures between the two of us. “This . . . thing. Connection. Obsession. Fascination. Whatever the hell you want to call it.”

  Obsession? My head is spinning with the things coming out of his mouth. Was he serious about this? I knew there was obsession on my side, but from his? It’s clear as day that he wants me, but I’m not sure about his plans for me down the road. He’s not thinking love and marriage, that’s for sure. Dating? How casual would he want to be? Could I do casual with him, when I was already in so deep and we haven’t even been together? Can I even trust his words? I like to think so. I know he’s a good man, but I’ve also heard stories about all the men in the MC. They aren’t exactly known for being angels, and I’d be stupid not to take that into consideration. And then there is Allie. Is it really over? What does he feel for her now? So many questions!

  It is the standard issue, my heart fighting with my head. Could I sleep with him and be okay with losing him after that? Knowing him, he’d ruin me for other men. I just can’t win.

  “Lust at first sight?” I suggest, my eyes roaming boldly over his body, trying to lighten the conversation. It works.

  He throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, there’s definitely some of that. Every time I see you I get hard as a rock. It’s quite fuckin’ inconvenient, really.”

  “Tracker!” I groan, rubbing my forehead with my palm. “Children’s party, remember?”

  “Well, that fucker tried to pick you up at this party,” he reminds me, sounding amused. “That wasn’t children’s party behavior. Does he come to these parties to pick up single mothers or something? Seems like an asshole to me.”

  “Fuck that guy,” I blurt out, making him laugh even harder. His shoulders shake with the effort, and everyone around us turns to stare.

  “Fuckin’ hell, Lana, we’re at a kid’s function. Watch your mouth,” he says, shaking his head.

  My face hurts from smiling. I scan the party, my smile dropping. “Did that little girl just push Clover?”

  I look around, gearing for a fight, my fingernails digging into my palms. “That’s it. Where’s that girl’s mom?” She was going to get a stern talking-to.

  Tracker’s body shakes with laughter, he tries to contain it but he can’t. “So it’s okay for you to act like this but not me? Fuck it. You go after the girl’s mom, I’ll go after that kid’s dad. Let’s show everyone they should know better than to mess with our Clover.”

  “Oh,” I say, my eyes still on them. “Never mind. She didn’t push her, they’re playing tag.”

  Tracker’s eyes crinkle. “Common mistake.”

  The two of us laugh some more.

  “No wonder Anna likes hanging around you,” I say, puffing out a breath. “You’re fun to be around.”

  “I try and make the best of every situation,” he replies, shrugging his broad shoulders. “You only live once, right?”

  I nod my head. “You’re easy to be around; yet people who get on your bad side should run and hide.”

  “Best of both worlds,” he teases. “I’m a bit of everything.”

  “I’m starting to see that,” I say with our gazes locked. “It would be much easier if you were an asshole.”

  His smirk lets me know he doesn’t take offense. “What would be much easier?”

  “Staying away from you,” I say lightly, even though it’s the cold, hard truth.

  “Trust me, you aren’t the only one struggling with that,” he admits quietly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Tried to stay away, thought you didn’t fit, but you do. You’re just as strong, if not more so than the other women. You’re fiercely loyal. It’s hard to find someone like that nowadays. Most people have their own agenda.”

  I nod, because I know that’s the truth. There are lots of good people out there,
but there are also a lot of assholes. You have to learn how to weed out the good from the bad, but sometimes you just have to learn the hard way.

  “I think loyalty is one of the best qualities someone can have,” I agree. “I’m glad you think that of me, Tracker. That is the best compliment you’ve ever given me.”

  “I’m glad it’s true,” he replies easily. “No need to thank me.”

  I stare at his handsome profile, his jawline, the stubble on his face. The vein in his thick neck.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” he replies in a husky tone, watching me from the corner of his eye. “Or else one of the prospects will come watch Clover, and you and I will be alone and doing something I can’t mention at a kid’s party.”

  I gulp. “So . . . the weather is nice today,” I blurt out, inciting a chuckle from him.

  “It is,” he murmurs. “Beautiful, actually.”

  I turn to see him watching me, and something passes between us. I acknowledge the fact that he is interested in me. He wants something from me. The problem is, he doesn’t know what it is yet, and I don’t want to trust him with my heart. Yet. I don’t want to get attached to him, but realistically I already am.

  I’m just in fucking denial.

  And it’s a nice place.

  We both watch Clover play with all her friends for the next thirty minutes.

  “How do Faye and Sin do this?” he suddenly asks, watching Clover fall onto the ground and get up by herself, brushing off the back of her dress.

  “I have no idea,” I answer honestly. “I’m not her mother and I want to protect her from everything and anything.”

  “Maybe we should homeschool our kids,” he drops casually.

  My head snaps to him. “I’m sorry, what?” I can’t stop my mind from picturing a beautiful girl with my dark hair and his blue eyes holding both our hands.

  He chuckles. “You should see your face.”

  “Very funny,” I mutter. “Are you sure you don’t have any kids out there?”

  His eyes narrow. “Always use protection. Trust me, there are no mini Trackers running around.”

  “What’s your real name?” I ask.

  He studies me. “Not many people know my real name.”

  “So? I won’t tell anyone. I’ll still call you Tracker.”

  He cringes and ducks his head. “Daniel Davis.”

  I grin. “Cute.”

  “And you will never repeat those words again.”

  I cross an X over my heart. “Your secret is safe with me, Daniel.”

  “Smart-ass,” he replies. “Now you owe me a secret.”

  “Hmmmm,” I think, then smile at him. “I really write porn for a living.”

  He laughs and mutters, “Yeah, right. I couldn’t be that lucky.”

  Sure, it isn’t porn, but I like to joke that it is. If he doesn’t believe me, that’s his problem.

  “Okay, fine,” I say. “Once, Rake and I played spin the bottle. We kissed. It was horrible.”

  He scowls. “That bastard.”

  I laugh at his expression. “It was years ago. He probably doesn’t remember.”

  “He better not,” Tracker says. “Maybe I’ll have to hit him on the head a few times just to make sure.”

  Watching Clover, I shake my head at him. “Never a dull moment with you, Tracker.”

  How did he make me feel so comfortable? I was generally awkward and didn’t know what to say. Instead of drawing attention to my nervousness, he just glossed over it and put me at ease. He makes it so easy to be myself. I can’t deny that I love how I feel around him.

  “Glad to amuse,” he says, repeating my words.

  “You more than amuse,” I murmur, and his expression suddenly turns heated.

  “Good,” he replies quietly.

  “Looks like Clover is having fun,” I say, changing the subject.

  “She isn’t the only one,” he replies, eyes warm.

  I look down at my hands, unnerved by the look in his eyes.

  “Aren’t you glad I came?” he adds. “I’m saving both you and Clover from a father and son who need to be taught a lesson.”

  “And what lesson is that?” I dare to ask.

  His smile isn’t friendly. “That if you mess with Wind Dragons property, you better prepare for war.”

  I almost laugh, until I realize he is dead serious.

  FOUR

  A WEEK passes.

  Tracker’s here every day at the clubhouse, spending all his time with Clover and me. Apparently he doesn’t have anywhere else to be. He’s also extremely hard to resist. Easy to talk to, down-to-earth, funny. Sexy. Great with Clover. I overheard him singing to her and thought my ovaries were going to explode. I’m seeing him in a completely new light. I’d thought he was some kind of player with no ability to commit to a woman. And part of me still does. But at the same time, I can’t deny how kind and thoughtful he is. He’s so attentive, hanging on my every word. He makes me feel important. I’d never spent so much one-on-one time with him before. Our usual interactions were in a group setting or always with Anna there. Or Allie. He’s different away from his MC brothers too.

  Softer.

  More approachable.

  He’s really making this difficult on me. I can say no only so many times before I’m going to cave in.

  Would it be so bad to give him a chance?

  Is it just the chase for him? Or is he serious about seeing how far our relationship could go? It seems like too big a chance to take. If I give in, he will consume me.

  I walk into the clubhouse living room to find Clover asleep on the floor. I laugh softly at her cuteness, picking her up and laying her on the couch. I love how comfortable she feels at the clubhouse, and now I can see why Faye wanted her here. She really is safe among the club members. I pull out my laptop, intending to get some work done, when Allie walks into the room with Jess, Trace’s old lady. Jess is nice enough, but kind of closed-off. I figure it’s because I’m not one of “them.” Allie is . . . well I don’t really know what she is. She lives here but isn’t at the top of the food chain, so to speak. The old ladies go in and out, doing their own thing, and the hang-ons are brought in and out by the club members when they want them. Allie is kind of in between. She isn’t an old lady, but she still gets to live here and is a part of the club. I don’t fully understand her role, but I do know that she doesn’t like me.

  Never has and never will. How do I know? Well, her face is permanently scrunched up when I’m around and her eyes shoot daggers at me. Oh, and there are the cutting remarks. I couldn’t care less anymore.

  “Where’s Tracker?” she demands without lowering her voice.

  I glance at Clover, then back to Allie. Speaking in a much softer tone than she used, I say, “I don’t know. And talk quietly or you’re going to wake Clover.”

  She laughs, an ugly sound. “Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what to do? I live here. You’re just the hired help.”

  “Allie,” Jess says softly, but I don’t miss the warning in her tone.

  “What?” Allie asks. “She’s not even one of us. She’s a fuckin’ tagalong.”

  “Allie.”

  We all jump at the sound of Tracker’s voice. He doesn’t sound happy. He sounds pissed. Allie turns around to look into his angry eyes.

  “I’m sure Faye would love to hear how you’re acting around her kid.”

  Allie clears her throat. “I was looking for you.”

  “Go and wait in my room,” he tells her, then looks at me. I don’t miss the fact that his eyes soften, but I’m still reeling from the blow of him sending Allie to his room. This is exactly what I was afraid of—the two of them will never be over. Jess leaves the room as Tracker comes closer to me.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just going to clear shit up with her. Be here when I get back so we can talk. You say you don’t want me, Lana, but those hurt brown eyes tell me all I need to know.”

 
Am I that transparent? Apparently so.

  He gives me a gentle kiss on my forehead before leaving the room.

  Luckily for me, Faye gets home early and I get out of there while Tracker and Allie are still . . . doing whatever they’re doing.

  * * *

  He thrusts into her, slamming her against the headboard. . . .

  Sitting back in my chair, I stare at the words on my screen and sigh. I need inspiration. I want a fresh, new sexy scene and for once, my head is blank and my characters aren’t cooperating. A knock at my front door brings me to my feet. It is about 10:00 a.m., so it is probably my package delivery guy. While we aren’t on a first-name basis, we are friendly. He is here at my house practically every day, thanks to my online shopping addiction. I don’t think he’s ever seen me out of my pajamas, and I’m not going to disappoint today either. Opening the door, I smile at the prospect of what I might get to open today.

  “Good morning . . .” I say in surprise, not to my deliveryman but to Tracker. “What are you doing here?”

  He grins and gives my body a slow perusal. “Nice pj’s.”

  I look down, cringing. Out of all the days, he caught me when I was wearing my black tank top. It reads FRIES OVER GUYS on the front, with a picture of some french fries. The matching shorts have pictures of fries all over them too.

  I’m so sexy.

  “Th-thanks,” I mutter, fiddling with the hem of the top.

  “Are you going to invite me in?” he asks, taking a step forward.

  “I suppose so,” I say, stepping back so his large frame can enter. “Is there something you wanted?”

  He closes the door, studying me. Today he is wearing a Harley T-shirt, light jeans, and his biker boots. “Pretty sure I told you to wait for me yesterday. Came back to the lounge room and you were gone.”

  I shrug. “Faye came home and it was time for me to go.”

  I walk into my living room and he follows. He sits on the couch and pulls me onto his lap. I perch there stiffly, scanning the room as he gently massages my shoulders with one hand, the other wrapped tightly around my waist.

  “Relax, Lana,” he murmurs. “I want you to be comfortable around me. You can trust me, you know?”