HANDS OFF MY WOMAN: Padre Knights MC

by Claire St. Rose

  When he cradled her against his chest to carry her up the stairs, the rich leather smell of his club vest mingled with his own musk and that scent she could never quite place, no matter how many times she pressed her nose against his skin and breathed him in. The smell that always made her think of fire.

  He settled her on the bed and Ali propped up on her elbows so she could watch him undress. It was her favorite part of the night, when Alejandro came to her and shed his garments one by one like he was shedding the harsh reality that separated them.

  She watched him remove his shirt and gazed at the trail of dark hair running down his muscular chest and disappearing beneath his waistband. Her breath caught for the hundredth time as she marveled at the tattoo he'd gotten when he'd left her ten years ago, the vines growing through the exposed ribcage, a visual reminder of how deep their love had taken root. Finally he was gloriously naked. He walked toward her and she forgot everything else but her need to touch him.

  ***

  When Alejandro crawled into Ali's bed she wrapped herself around him, clinging to him like a vine as he touched her everywhere. He stripped the lingerie from her body, sad to see the lacy scraps float to the floor but eager to be skin to skin with her.

  "Tomorrow night," he murmured. They usually didn't see each other two nights in a row, but he didn't want to wait. In his mind he'd already made a plan to bring her some food, set up a sunset picnic in the back pasture, and make love to her under the stars. "I can come. How early?"

  He was unprepared for her to stiffen in his arms. She went silent for a few seconds and he sore she was holding her breath, her spine rigid. He'd barely registered the shock of her reaction when she slipped away, shaking her head as she climbed off the bed.

  "What's wrong?" Her whole face changed, the eagerness that had been there just moments ago replaced by anxiety as she stood and walked across the room. She pulled a short satin robe from the bathroom door and wrapped it around herself, avoiding his eyes as she tied the sash.

  "Ali."

  Her eyes flickered back to his and then down to the floor. She seemed to shrink against the wall.

  Alejandro sat up then, and swung his legs around until his feet were firmly planted on the floor. "What's going on? Talk to me."

  "I have a gala to attend," she said, her voice softer than usual. "I can't see you." She kept her eyes downcast as she spoke.

  "Okay." He shrugged. "Another time, then. It's no big deal." She shook her head again and he realized her eyes were filling with tears. "Hey, hey, what's this?"

  "I'm going with Bobby," she blurted, and it was like a bucket of cold water on his head.

  He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his head, trying to ignore the murderous thoughts racing through his head. Ugly words lodged in his throat and he swallowed them back as she tried to explain herself.

  "It was already in the works... sort of. I mean, I knew about it and I already had a ticket reserved, but I hadn’t planned to go."

  "But now you are." He tried to keep his voice neutral, but it only came out bitter.

  "Yes," she whispered. “There’s an important funder there, and I need to meet him.”

  His jaw clenched despite his best efforts to remain calm. "And were you planning to tell me?"

  She shifted from one foot to the other and threaded her fingers through her hair as a move he recognized as nervousness.

  "That's a no, then. Fuck, Ali!"

  She flinched like she'd been slapped. Clearly she'd been nervous about his reaction, and that hurt him more than her sin of omission. Doesn't she know I'd never lay a hand on her? How can she even think I'd hurt her?

  He stood and walked toward his carefully folded clothing. Ali shrunk in the doorway, as jumpy as a cat, as he stepped into his jeans. "I know you don't really love him, and I also know I'll be right back in this bed with you, if not tomorrow then the next night." He approached her, his hands up so she knew he wouldn't hurt her. "But I don't like being lied to. I haven't lied to you, and I sure as fuck don't want you doing it to me. This--" he motioned between them, "This won't work unless we can be honest with each other."

  "I'm sorry." Her plaintive voice, damp eyes, and nervous body language conspired against him to keep him there. Every cell in his body screamed at him to stop in his tracks, pull her back into bed and reassure her with his touch.

  But his stubborn pride won out. Fuck this, he told himself as he pulled on his clothes. You don't need to hang around here being her cock on tap while she sorts her shit out. Look at her, she's fucking scared of you, like you're some kind of threat.

  "Alejandro, please..." Her gray eyes filled with anguish. "Let me explain," she pleaded, reaching her hand out to him. "Please."

  He shrugged away her touch and stepped into his boots. "Not tonight. I gotta go." He took the stairs down two at a time and was relieved when she didn't follow him. He didn't want to look in her eyes again, because he knew he'd be a pussy and fold. Instead, he started the bike and took off for the clubhouse where he could think in private.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Alejandro woke up face down on the clubhouse sofa with a graveyard of empties on the floor next to him. The TV droned in the background, poking at the edges of his pounding headache. Another night erased from my mind, he thought. Suddenly he remembered the look in Ali's eyes when she'd told him about the gala, and the throbbing above his eye turned savage.

  He needed water. And hair of the dog. And a shower.

  After reading his text messages and arguing with himself about whether or not to text Ali back, he hopped on his bike and rode to his parents' house, where his mother fussed over him and made him a breakfast fit for a king. But he sure as hell didn't feel like a king. He sank into the chair and eyed the spread gratefully. A mother's love, now that was unconditional, though it didn't change the fact that he felt like shit.

  He ignored her disapproving look as he popped open a beer and continued shoveling food into his mouth. She made no secret of the fact that she didn't like drinking, especially in the morning. She was probably right--hell, she was right about everything else, even Ali. It was his mother who had told him ten years ago, Mijo, be careful. That girl will break your heart.

  All this time he thought he'd outsmarted her by breaking up with Ali before she could break up with him. Now he realized it didn't matter who did the leaving. A shattered heart was just as broken when you broke it yourself. Ali broke his heart every day that she wasn't his, and that was the truth of the matter.

  His mother leaned behind him and wrapped him in her soft embrace. "You're in trouble," she murmured.

  "Mi guapa madré," he replied, kissing her hand. "You worry too much. Us brothers look out for each other. I'm perfectly safe."

  "I meant the girl." Her eyes were sympathetic when he stared at her, surprised. "A mother knows. It's all over this handsome face." She took his chin in her hand. "This love torments you, mijo."

  He couldn't even protest. It did torment him. Taking it one day at a time was no longer working for him. If he didn't figure out what he wanted, what he could promise Ali, he would lose her forever to Bobby.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Later that morning, Alejandro was tinkering with his bike at his father's garage when he heard a car pull up outside. The insistent pounding on the door conspired to shatter his skull, and he headed for the front, hell-bent on thrashing whoever it was beating down the door.

  On the other side of the glass stood Bobby Dawson. Alejandro stared at the blond man. He'd have recognized Bobby's face anywhere: clean cut, blue eyes, bright teeth. He took in the linen suit and expensive loafers, the timepiece on his arm that probably cost as much as his bike. Rich boy, he thought, you're either stupid or insane. I could shoot you out back, bury you in the desert, and no one would be any the wiser. He entertained that thought for more than a moment as he stared the other man down, and then unlocked the door without a word.

  Clearly Bobby knew he was
at a disadvantage, but he walked defiantly into the garage and stood watching Alejandro carefully wipe the grease from each finger in turn.

  "What can I do for you?" Alejandro finally asked.

  "Robert Dawson." Bobby offered his hand, and for a second Alejandro thought he'd made a mistake and the man was just campaigning. But the fire in Bobby's eyes was unmistakable.

  Alejandro took Bobby's hand, squeezing the fingers between his own, bearing down just a bit. He was surprised when Bobby didn't wince.

  "I'm Alaine's fiancé."

  She hates being called Alaine. Alejandro smiled and went for the jugular right away. "You know she doesn't actually wear that ring, right?" he asked conspiratorially.

  Bobby's eyes narrowed a bit, but he flashed a PR grin Alejandro's way. "Well, we did agree to take some time apart to think about how we're moving forward," he said with a shrug.

  Alejandro nodded and said nothing, still smirking. Let this jackass do all the talking he wants. At the end of the day, Ali's still mine.

  "I know the two of you are quite close," Bobby mused, turning his back to Alejandro as he strolled around the garage, trailing his fingers now and then over a surface as if marking it, his eyes missing nothing.

  "You could say that." Alejandro's smile broadened as he recalled just how close they'd been on many occasions, and he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the workbench. "So?"

  "I'm asking, as a gentleman, that you stop seeing her."

  Alejandro threw back his head and laughed, a great booming sound that echoed in the enclosed space. "Oh, you're good," he said, wagging his finger at Bobby. "I'll hand it to you. You show up here at my father's business acting like you own this place and thinking there's no way in hell I'd jeopardize my old man's livelihood. You tell me that you and Ali are still engaged, yet I've been warming her sheets all month.

  He grinned even wider when Bobby blanched. "And now you say some bullshit about a gentleman's agreement when both you and I know that you've got a backup plan waiting for me when I tell you to fuck off.

  "So tell you what, Robert Dawson," he growled. "Since this isn't a fucking meet and greet, what do you say we drop the act and you just cut to the chase. Man to man. Use small words, I'm not as bright as you."

  "Fine." Bobby straightened, his cheeks colored and his jaw clenched. "How's this, then? You stay the fuck away from her, from today forward. You so much as look at her, it's going to get a lot hotter around here, not just for you but for your whole family and anyone else associated with your club. Your kind are not welcome here in Arroyo Flats."

  Alejandro smirked. "Turning up the heat on me, college boy?"

  He stalked closer to Bobby, who was nearly as tall as he was but nowhere near as broad. He imagined the other man kissing Ali, touching her with his privileged hands, whispering in her ear. A calm rage filled his veins as he pushed into Bobby's personal space, nose to nose, just inches away.

  "How about this, then," Alejandro said quietly. "You go ahead and bring whatever it is you got. Do what you gotta do, because in the end, Ali's going to be mine."

  "Never in a million years will she choose a lowlife like you!"

  Alejandro shrugged and grinned. "Then why are you here?" he asked, throwing his arms wide.

  Bobby spun on his heel and stormed out of the garage without another word. Alejandro wished he could feel some relief, some triumph at their exchange, but all he could think about was Bobby's threat.

  The truth was, even though Alejandro could easily take him in a fight, that wasn't the game they were playing. Bobby Dawson had the means to make all their lives pretty miserable if he wanted to, and judging from how pissed off he was, that's exactly what he intended to do. Alejandro couldn't just beat Bobby's ass and be done with it, as much as the very thought of it made his entire body sing.

  Furthermore, he didn't know just how much of his life Ali could handle, no matter what she said. Even if she could somehow excuse away some of the illegal things they did because they balanced it out by taking care of their own, could she justify all of it? She was okay with them selling stolen ammo and helping illegals get into the country, but that was only a fraction of what they did. What about the drugs? The underage prostitutes they sometimes got for Hennessy? The fact that every once in a while they had to make someone disappear?

  Maybe she'd go back to Bobby when she found out about those things. Maybe the rich prick would even be the one to tell her. He had to find a way to make sure he didn't.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Thank God this doesn't have a back zip, Ali thought as she tugged the zipper up her side and smoothed the fabric. She wouldn't have wanted an awkward moment in which she'd have to enlist Bobby's help getting dressed. That would definitely have sent the wrong message.

  To his credit, he'd behaved himself so far. He hadn't had anything yet to drink, and he'd been a perfect gentleman, leaving her to change in complete privacy while he returned some phone calls. Not a word of Alejandro, the wedding, or a reconciliation, either.

  Maybe the night wouldn't be so terrible. After all, if Travis Lathrop was there and she could have even five minutes with him, she might solve all her startup problems in one fell swoop.

  In addition to her operating costs, there were still some permit issues that needed to be taken care of, and she knew how easily a word from an influential man in the community could pave the way for those problems to be resolved.

  She hadn't wanted to enlist Bobby or Carmac's help--particularly since neither of them had ever been enthusiastic about her starting the program in the first place--but Mr. Lathrop might just be the man to help check that pesky permit issue off the to-do list.

  If Travis Lathrop wanted a new pet project to support, then by God, she could give him one. She dusted powder over the bridge of her nose and thought about what Mr. Lathrop's support might mean, in practical terms, for the Cloverleaf program. Not just dollars, but word-of-mouth to other potential funders. Validation in local philanthropy circles. Maybe even recognition outside Arroyo Flats.

  A quiet tap on the bathroom door snapped her out of her reverie. "I don't mean to pressure you, Sugar, but this thing starts in an hour, and we've got a bit of a drive still," Bobby called through the door. "You almost ready?"

  She cracked the door. "Almost," she said, reaching for her makeup bag to retrieve her lipstick. "Two seconds."

  Bobby pushed the door open and leaned in the door frame, impeccably dressed in his tuxedo. His eyes never left her mouth as she carefully applied her lipstick. She caught him looking and he blushed under her questioning gaze.

  “You look stunning," he murmured. "Red suits you."

  Ali thanked him politely, not wanting to see what was in his eyes. Love? Jealousy? Lust? It didn't matter. She had one purpose tonight and that was to make the acquaintance of this funder. It was not to engage with Bobby in a conversation about their broken engagement.

  Ali straightened and took one last turn in the mirror. I wish I could just hear his voice, she thought. She'd already sent Alejandro several text messages that day, all of which had gone unanswered. He wasn't the type to ignore her on purpose, no matter how angry he was, so she knew he was busy and would get back to her. Still, it stung to know she had hurt him. She had single-handedly chipped away at the frail bond of trust they were trying so desperately to build.

  One night, that's all this has to be, she thought. I just have to make sure Bobby doesn't think this is anything more than it is and I'm golden. Alejandro will understand when I explain it to him, I know he will.

  ***

  It had been strange to take Bobby's arm and allow him to escort her in, stopping to pose for the obligatory publicity photo. It had been even odder to sit at the table with Carmac and Cecile, acting as if nothing was wrong. Bobby's hand had been on her lower back all night, guiding her as he always had, in tune with her every move. A few times he allowed his hand to rest around her hip in a way that was a bit more familiar than sh
e would have liked, but he didn't seem to notice he was even doing it. No big deal, she thought. It's just a habit. He's not pressuring me, and it's just for tonight.

  It had all been worth it to meet Travis Lathrop, who took an immediate shine to Ali and listened to her talk about the program for only fifteen minutes before he pulled his checkbook from inside his jacket pocket and wrote a sum that made Ali choke on her wine. Then he asked so many questions that she spent half the night answering him, her mind reeling the entire time that she had almost missed such an amazing supporter. Mr. Lathrop was nearly ninety, sharp as a tack, and just as eager as Bobby had said he was to support a new youth project.

  Bobby circled back now and then, and when Mr. Lathrop said his goodbyes to them both, she turned to him breathlessly and showed him the check.

  His smile was genuine as he said, "That's amazing, Sugar, it really is. I knew he'd be able to help you out."