Burnout: A Legal Heat Novella

by Sarah Castille

  One.

  “Can’t keep my hands off such a lush ass.” He squeezed again. “Can’t keep from thinking how much sweeter it would look without all the trimmings. You tanned down there, too, sugar?”

  Two.

  “Last chance,” she warned. “Remove your hand or…”

  She felt a rush of cool air behind her, and his hand fell away. Sophie turned to face her assailant, only to discover one man had morphed into two, and the leather-clad giant with his arm around the throat of the terrified bald dude was definitely not the owner of the shadow that had hovered over her only moments ago.

  “The lady said hands off.” Her saviour’s husky growl sent a wave of heat through Sophie’s body, and her annoyance at the unnecessary rescue gave way to desire when his dark, sensual gaze rested on her.

  Damn, he was fine. And entirely too handsome. Well over six feet, his long, dark hair falling to the tops of his shoulders, he had steel-blue eyes and a hard, chiselled jaw. She supposed most women would have thought of him as rough, with his face all harsh planes and angles, and marred with silvery scars. But Sophie had always been attracted to rough men—men like her father who knew how to live. How she’d wound up with Ryan, all suited and slick, with his perfectly coiffed hair and his sharp features, she didn’t know. Maybe his pretence of caring had filled some emotional void in her life, or maybe she’d just been wilfully blind to the monster behind the man.

  Her gaze drifted down to his cut and the patches that proclaimed him not just a one percenter—an outlaw—but sergeant-at-arms for the Rogue Riders MC. He was the man in charge of discipline in the club. Strongest of the strong. And from the way he was looking at her—like a predator about to feast—a man who could give her what she wanted to start her new life of independence. Sex and nothing more. No strings. No ties. Someone to fill the void for just one night and then leave her the hell alone.

  A man who had nothing in common with Ryan.

  “You like what you see, babe?” Far from mocking, his voice was laced with amusement, and Sophie met his heated gaze.

  “I like the way you’re holding that octopus, although I had the situation under control.”

  A beat cop in Toronto for four years and now a member of Vancouver Police Department’s Investigative Division, she didn’t need protection, especially after her suffocating relationship with Ryan. When they had first started seeing each other, Ryan had won her over by showering her with affection and playing the protective, caring boyfriend. But he’d slowly pushed her boundaries—constantly wanting to know her whereabouts and activities, showing up on her girls’ night out, attempting to control what she wore when they went out together—until she couldn’t see them anymore. At first, she’d enjoyed his attention, hadn’t seen the danger, and when he’d pushed for commitment and asked her to marry him under the moonlight at the top of the CN Tower, she’d said yes.

  It wasn’t until he’d physically stopped her from leaving the house to meet her girlfriends shortly after their honeymoon that she’d realized he wasn’t interested in protecting her—he wanted to possess her. But by then, it was too late. Ryan wouldn’t let her go.

  “Missed that control bit,” Ace said. “Saw Bones here with his hand on your ass. Heard you tell him no. Didn’t see his hand move. Now the hand is gone.” He shook the man by the neck as if he were a rag doll. “Apologize to the lady.”

  With a soft snarl, Bones cast his gaze down, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t know you were with Ace.”

  “I’m not with Ace.”

  Ignoring her protest, Bones looked back over his shoulder. “We good?”

  “No.” Ace jerked his head, and two bikers in Rogue Rider cuts grabbed Bones’ arms. “Take him out back and teach him about respecting a lady. Then when he wakes up, teach him about respecting our MC.”

  “Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say to a man who had just ordered his biker brothers to beat a man unconscious for touching her ass.

  “Pleasure.” One corner of his mouth quirked up just the slightest bit. “Little thing like you. Big guy like him. You didn’t stand much of a chance.”

  “I can hold my own.” Sophie folded her arms across her chest. “I may look small—”

  “You are small.” Ace reached out to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Even in those fucking sexy boots. And you’re curvy. But those curves would be wasted on a man like Bones. You got a body made for sex, not violence, and you need a man up for the challenge.”

  She should have felt insulted, miffed, even outraged by his presumption. But he didn’t leer the way Bones had, and his tone was more appreciative than dirty. She had no doubt if she turned him down now, he would just walk away.

  A real man. Confident and commanding without even a hint of the insecurity that had driven Ryan to return to their house the night after he’d been served with divorce papers.

  “And that would be you?” Her voice lifted in a teasing tone. Although she couldn’t spend a night sexing it up with a criminal, she might as well have a bit of fun.

  “Me.” His traced a thick finger along her jaw, his skin calloused and rough. The thought of his warm hands on her body sent a sizzle of heat straight to her core.

  Her tongue darted out, slid over her bottom lip. She tasted the tang of lipstick, the faint hint of the whiskey she’d drunk to fortify herself before coming to the party, and the sweetness of desire.

  Ace sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze locking on her tongue. “You got a name, babe?”

  “Sophie.”

  “Sophie.” He repeated her name with a sensual rumble that vibrated through her body, spreading out to her fingers and toes.

  She liked the way he said her name, soft, almost like a prayer. She liked that he thought she was beautiful, although she had nothing on the women she’d seen as she passed through the house: taller, thinner, prettier, younger, wilder…with their piercings and dyed hair, leather crop tops, and minis. She liked it even more when he slid a hand around her waist to rest it in the small of her back, making her tingle from head to toe.

  “Beer me, beautiful Sophie.”

  “Beer you?”

  “I just saved your sweet ass. Rescuing beautiful damsels in distress is thirsty work.” He gestured in the direction of the bar behind them with the slightest lift of his chin. “I’ll keep an eye on your ass for you as you walk away. Make sure no one else touches it.”

  “Very thoughtful of you.” Sophie’s lips quivered with a repressed smile. Outrageous. But then, that was part of his appeal—a total disregard for the laws and social conventions that governed her life.

  Ace pulled a wooden chair away from the dining table and straddled it backward, his thick arms resting on the back, muscles rippling beneath two full sleeves of tattoos. He caught her looking and winked. Damn. He was clearly enjoying her discomfort. Well, she did owe him. Jason’s ass-squeezing octopus friend was likely still suffering outside at the hands of two men clearly well practiced in the art of violence. A beer was a small price to pay for saving her ass.

  “Fine. I’ll get your drink.” It was that or melt in a puddle every time he opened his mouth and spoke in that sinfully sensual voice.

  Now overly conscious of his eyes on her body, Sophie walked over to the bar. Did she have a nice ass? It had been so long since she’d checked herself out in the mirror, she didn’t know. It was larger than most, but she supposed it couldn’t be too bad. Especially since she’d managed to squeeze it into these jeans. Plus, working out every morning and being on her feet all day, she hadn’t suffered the late-twenties spread some of her friends back in Toronto had complained about.

  “Back again,” Andre said. “Your Patron is waiting for you.”

  And a crassly arrogant, misogynistic biker with a body made for sin was waiting for her. The music played louder than before, but it couldn’t drown out the thud of her heart. Despite his antiquated views, she wanted Ace. More than any man she’d eve
r wanted before. More than she’d wanted Ryan when he first approached her at a colleague’s wedding.

  But she couldn’t have him. Cops and criminals didn’t mix. Still, she was up for a little bit of fun, and Ace needed to learn a lesson. “Your most disgusting beer, please.”

  Andre widened his eyes. “Someone get on your bad side?”

  “Something like that.”

  He fished around in a cooler and pulled out a can with a red and yellow label and the word Chelada scripted across the front. “I was saving this for someone special, but I have a feeling you’ll put it to better use.” He pulled the top and poured the red-orange liquid slowly into the glass, leaving it with a perfect pink head. “Absolutely horrible. They’ve mixed beer and Clamato juice together. Have a sniff.”

  Sophie leaned forward and her nose wrinkled. “It smells like a sewer with a little tomato and pepper seasoning. I can’t imagine many people ask for it.”

  He grabbed a cut lemon from a bowl and squeezed it into the froth. “I work at a speciality beer store under the Granville Street Bridge when I’m not playing bodyguard. I always bring a few of the more unique brews along. Never know who might ask.”

  Bodyguard? He didn’t strike her as muscle. Usually bodyguards were big and burly, more about intimidation than actual protection.

  Andre gave the beer a quick stir and handed it to her, a smile spreading across his face. “Way to make new friends.”

  Sophie spun around and looked for her target. Ace’s gaze was glued to where her ass used to be. Her smile faded as she walked toward him. Why did the best-looking guys always turn out to have a fundamental flaw?

  “Here you go.”

  If he noticed the unusual color of the beer, he gave no sign. Instead, he took the glass, his fingers brushing over her skin. Sizzling warmth spread along her arm and shot straight to her core.

  “Thanks, babe.” Eyes locked on hers, he put the glass to his lips and drank until half the beer was gone.

  Sophie watched with morbid fascination. How would he react? Would he shudder? Gag? Splutter? Would he be angry? Maybe she should have considered that possibility before she acted so rashly. He was, by far, the biggest, scariest man in the room.

  Ace placed the glass on the table. “We’re square.”

  Seriously? He’d downed the beer without blinking an eye, and yet the bartender had squeezed an entire lemon into the nauseating concoction. How had he so easily snatched victory from the glass of defeat?

  “You standing there ’cause you want to get me another beer?” His lips quirked at the corners, and he gave her the kind of smile that would have charmed the pants off any other woman: slow and easy, filled with sensual promise.

  But she wasn’t like other women. Most women could trust their judgment. Most women would have had the sense not to marry an obsessively controlling psychopath who couldn’t understand why sleeping with the eighteen-year-old dog walker in the marital bed was grounds for divorce. Most women knew to stay away from the badasses, and the man in front of her, in his biker colors, tattooed biceps bulging from beneath his T-shirt, was badass, mouth-wateringly bad.

  “No.” Sophie shook herself awake. “I’m walking away.”

  “So walk. I’ll enjoy the view.”

  Chapter Two

  Don’t walk. Don’t walk.

  Ace’s silent prayer went unheard. Sophie turned and headed toward the patio doors leading to the backyard. He took a moment to admire how her jeans hugged her lush ass. Damn, she was sweet, and so unlike the women who hung around the clubhouse. Although her dress was tight, she showed far less skin than the sweet butts who traded sexual favours for the protection of the MC, and she was all the more alluring for it. Nothing got him off more than a tease, a glimpse of what he shouldn’t see. And Jesus Christ… those boots.

  He waited until Sophie was outside before sending one of the prospects, a Rogue Rider wannabe, to bring him something to wash the foul taste out of his mouth. It had taken all his willpower not to react to the swill she’d served up in that glass. But he couldn’t deny her sass fired his blood. Most women were intimidated by his six-foot-two-inch frame and his harsh Scandinavian features, but not that little firebrand with the big tits and the sensuous mouth. Hell, she’d almost seemed angry he hadn’t keeled over after that beer.

  And wasn’t that what he was looking for? A challenge. A woman who had no intention of tumbling into his bed or dropping to her knees just because of who he was or what he could offer. After years of easy women and casual sex, Ace had been hit with a wake-up call when his friend, Ice, had fallen hard for a sexy private detective who had infiltrated their old MC. Lana was no pushover, and she’d made Ice work damn hard for her attention. Too hard, his brothers thought, but Ace had never seen Ice so damn happy.

  “She’s Jason’s sister.” Kickstand stepped in front of him, interrupting his train of thought and his view. “Just moved here from Toronto. That’s all I got.”

  “I want more.” He gestured Kickstand out of his way so he could watch Sophie through the glass door. He liked the way she worked her dress, with the kind of confidence he didn’t often see in the women who frequented the clubhouse. But he didn’t like the attention she had attracted, or the number of men who were looking at what he had already decided belonged to him.

  “Only person here who knows about her is Jason, and he’s not going to talk to me,” Kickstand said.

  “He won’t talk to you, but he will talk and your job is to listen.” Jason was a big player in the West Coast arms market, and he wouldn’t have time for men who weren’t in a position to make a deal. Men like Ace. Men he wouldn’t want anywhere near his sister.

  Not that Ace wanted anything more than one night with Sophie in his bed. He wasn’t looking for a relationship simply because he had witnessed how soul-destroying they could be. His father had never been the same after losing his old lady in a bike accident when Ace was only three years old. Anger had twisted his soul, and he’d taken out his pain on Ace and his younger brother until social services had taken them away.

  Yep. Relationships were definitely off the cards. But Ace was tired of emotionless, mindless sex with women who would do anything he asked for the chance of becoming his old lady. Sophie didn’t seem to care about his cut or his sergeant-at-arms patch. She wasn’t intimidated by his size or his scars or his association with an outlaw MC. Hell, she hadn’t even hesitated before trying to poison him, and then she’d coolly turned her back and walked away.

  After the prospect returned with a shot of whiskey to take away the taste of Sophie’s concoction, Ace made his way through the house looking for Jason. Although he wanted nothing more than to follow Sophie and charm her into his bed, he had business to conduct with Jason, and his duty to the club came first.

  He finally spotted Jason near the back patio doors, his attention focused on a small group of people chatting outside on the grass. A mid-level arms trader and old acquaintance, Jason had contacted Ryder, the Rogue Riders MC president, looking for protection for illegal arms shipments coming into port from Korea and destined for Mexico. It was a lucrative contract for a fledgling MC that had only recently split from its mother club, Hades, and one that would help establish the club as a serious player in Vancouver’s criminal underground. Ryder had entrusted Ace with the negotiations, and Ace had come prepared for any eventuality, except a curvy brunette with a dazzling smile.

  “Hey, Ace. I was wondering when we’d get around to business.” In his torn, heavy metal T-shirt and a ripped pair of jeans, his blond hair flopping in his face, Jason looked more like a college kid than an arms trader. But who was Ace to judge? He sure as hell wouldn’t be caught dead in a suit.

  “You said you needed protection for a shipment going south. I came for the details.”

  Jason’s smile faded. “Yeah, well…the weapons I ordered from Korea got seized by the port authorities. Major fucking disaster. The police were all over the container. Dogs, trace, the works. I�
��ve got some very, very unhappy customers. They think I screwed them over. So the job I discussed with Ryder is off, but I am expecting another shipment in two weeks.” Jason’s voice dropped low. “I’ll need protection for the transport south, especially since my current buyers are out for blood.”

  “Call me when it’s ready to go. I’ll let Ryder know this one was a bust.” Ace hesitated and then dived in with the topic that was foremost in his mind. “I heard your sister just moved to town. Is she helping you out? You want me to add her as a contact?”

  Jason’s jaw tightened. “She got transferred here from Toronto. She thinks I’m an account manager for a paper company. If she found out what I really did for a living, she’d go ballistic.” He narrowed his eyes. “And just in case you get any ideas, she’s not your type. She’s straight-up conservative—little miss law and order. We don’t usually socialize with the same crowd, but she’s been through one hell of a rough ride with her ex who’s now locked up in a penitentiary out east. Shame ’cause if I ever got my hands on him—”

  “Jason!” A short, purple-haired chick, covered in tats and piercings, grabbed Jason’s arm. “Greta was just trying to freebase in the kitchen and set fire to her hair.”

  “Gotta go.” Jason whirled around. “Enjoy the party. We’ll talk next week.”

  Deal done, there was no real reason to stay. Still, Ace’s gaze drifted to Sophie. She hadn’t struck him as conservative. Not with that mouth and definitely not with that sass.

  Maybe he’d stick around for a while. Have another drink.

  * * *

  “Hey, sis. Didn’t think you’d actually come to one of my parties. You having a good time?” Jason gave Sophie a warm hug and brushed a kiss over her forehead.

  “I didn’t think I’d come, either, but now that I’m here, I think I might be able to make my arrest quota for the week without even opening the door to my police car.”