HANDS OFF MY WOMAN: Padre Knights MC

by Claire St. Rose

  Roy arched and eyebrow and gave me a look. “Nah, you ain't this hung up over some bitch, are you?”

  “No fucking way, man,” I said, taking a drink of the horse piss. “Never. You know me. That's not my style.”

  “Then why have you checked your phone a hundred times in the last minute?” he asked. “Who is it you're hoping is going to call?”

  Roy watched me carefully, as if waiting for me to say something stupid – or lie to him. He was right about him not being like the others. He knew me better than most, and he could read me like he read a Playboy. Okay, he read me better than that since no one ever fucking read those magazines for the articles anyway. But he could see me with the same critical eye he used to take in all of the voluptuous details of the centerfold. It was almost unnerving how much the man could pick up on.

  I shrugged and tried to play it off. “Just some chick I banged the other night – ”

  Roy looked away, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “ – but listen, man,” I said quickly, “it ain't like that. I'm not all hung up on her or anything. She was just a really good lay and I'm only interested in hooking up again. That's all.”

  “King, come on – you can get any woman in any bar and you know it. Hell, I've seen you do it. But the one thing I've never seen? In all the time I've known you, I've never, ever seen you check your messages, waiting for some bitch to call you back.”

  I shrugged again. “I don't know what you want me to say, man. She was a good lay and I'm looking to score another piece of it.”

  Roy eyed me, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What's so different about this one, King? Is she into anal? Threesomes? Spill the beans, man.”

  Truthfully, it was none of that shit. But to say otherwise would make it look like I did have a thing for her. Placing my phone in my back pocket, I just stayed quiet. It seemed like the best thing I could do under the circumstances. Just say nothing and leave him hanging. I flashed him a mischievous grin and pantomimed me zipping my lips and tossing the key away.

  “Oh come on – ” Roy said. “I know a gentleman don't kiss and tell and shit, but you ain't no gentleman, King. C'mon now, let's hear it.”

  I grinned again, placed the beer on the table and walked away, leaving him hanging and obviously wanting all of the juicy details.

  Hey, I couldn't explain what was going on with me, how in the hell was I supposed to explain it to somebody else? I couldn't explain what it was about this chick, but there was something. She was different. She got under my skin and managed to stay there somehow. I didn't know what it was and couldn't put my goddamn finger on it. And until I saw her again, I couldn't be sure.

  As soon as I was out of Roy's view, I did something extreme and something that annoyed me about all of those one-nighter chicks I stiffed – I grabbed my phone and tapped out the most pathetic sounding text message I'd ever sent in my life.

  Fine, don't answer me, Abbie. Keep up the goddamn silent treatment, but I know where you work. Wonder how the ladies in your office would feel about me coming in to see ya this afternoon?

  I had no fucking clue where she worked. Sure, it would probably be pretty easy to find out, but going that far seemed crazy – not to mention completely unlike me. No, I was just putting it out there to see if I got any sort of reaction from her. There was no way someone as upstanding and put together as Abbie would want someone like me – dressed in my leathers and covered in tats – waltzing into her office to have a chat.

  No, I knew if I threw that threat – as empty as it was –she was going to respond quickly. She had to.

  A second later, I grinned wide when my phone buzzed with a new text message. I'd been right – just like I knew I would be. Looking at the display, my grin only widened when I was the message was from none other than Abbie herself.

  I let out a small chuckle as I read it, though, not surprised in the least. The message had been written in all caps, just to illustrate the seriousness of her point. The message was only three words but managed to convey a whole lot more to me: DON'T YOU DARE.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ABBIE

  I was trembling and on the verge of a panic attack. I tried to comfort myself, saying there was no way he could know where I worked. Or at least, I hoped there was no way he could know. But then, criminals had plenty more resources than us regular, law-abiding folks, when it came to getting guns, drugs – or information. That was for sure. But I had to admit, King didn't seem like the type who would Google me or search my profile on LinkedIn just to find out where I worked. But who knew with this guy? It wasn't like I really knew much about him.

  I figured, though, that he probably had connections everywhere, people he could ask. He could probably find anyone if he set his mind to it. He could probably find me in a heartbeat. Which was slightly unnerving, to say the least.

  Sitting at my desk, staring at my latest project without really seeing it or doing any actual work on it, I tried to think of a way out of this mess with King. I couldn't let him show up at my office, not while I was trying my hardest to impress my boss and hopefully move up the corporate ladder. People like King weren't exactly the type of people you wanted potential clients running into as they met with us. Having him show up and make a spectacle not just of him, but of me could really hurt my career.

  As I sat there, I couldn't stop my brain from wandering off in a million different directions – my mind was sometimes like a toddler hopped up on Pixie Sticks. And I found myself starting to imagine what King could do with that bar if he had the right people behind it. I began to think that if only I could work my PR magic on his bar, maybe he could retire from the life of crime and become a more settled, stable – and better – human being. If he wanted to, that was. It wasn't like I knew much about what made the man tick, but I had to wonder who would want to live that sort of life? Who would want to always be looking over one shoulder for the cops and over the other for the guy looking to stick a knife in your back so they could take your spot?

  Oh yeah, someone like King, that's who.

  Thinking about King and his bar, I found my mind wandering back to that night with him. I felt myself flush when I remembered the way he'd kicked everyone out and had taken me right there – that's the type of man King was. Forceful. Commanding. Always got what he wanted. And though I couldn't say I really enjoyed that personality type, I had to admit I didn't entirely dislike it either. To be honest, I wasn't sure how I felt about it all.

  All I could keep thinking about was King taking me in his bar, right on the table and how insanely hot the whole experience had been. It was, by far, the sexiest, most erotic experience of my life. And it was one I'd relived in my head almost every single day and night. I couldn't not think about it. And, of course, I couldn't not feel myself growing hot when I did. It was something I knew I'd love to experience again, but there was no way I was going to act on that impulse. Our lives were too different. We were too far apart. We were from completely different worlds.

  “Knock, knock.” I nearly jumped out of my skin and as I turned around with my heart thumping hard in my chest, I was half expecting to see King standing there. But instead – and thankfully so – it was Asher standing there with a smile on his face. “Sorry to scare you.”

  “No, it's okay. I was just lost in thought,” I said, clearing my throat as I tried to get my blood pressure under control. “What can I help you with, Asher?”

  I glanced at the clock and saw it was lunchtime. I knew he went out for lunch on Wednesdays and usually left right about now. I gritted my teeth, half-expecting him to ask me to join him. After all, he'd been hinting that he wanted to ask me out on a date for some time – he just never worked up the nerve enough to get around to actually asking. I smiled back at him, waiting for his response and cringing inside.

  “I was just wondering – ”

  In my head, I heard a voice narrating the event like some sportscaster. Asher finally steps up
to the plate and there he goes! He's going to do it this time. I tried to silence the voice knowing that if he asked, I was going to have to tell him no. I had to. There was no way I could date him. Not because he was a coworker, but because I wasn't into him. He was a sweet guy, but he was way too wishy-washy for my taste. He was too much of a suckup to Jack. But how could I turn him down when he'd finally gotten the balls up to ask? It would crush him. I guess that was a bridge I was going to have to cross whenever he finally managed to actually spit it out.

  “Yes?” I hadn't meant to, but maybe I sounded annoyed or a little too sharp because Asher looked like I'd spooked him. But, to be honest, I was a little bit annoyed and didn't have time for this song and dance. I had work to do. And I had to figure out what I was going to do about King. I didn't have time for this silly little shy high school boy with a crush game.

  “I – I was just wondering,” Asher sounded defeated and I knew he was starting to backpedal yet again, “if you'd like me to bring something back from the café for you on my way back?”

  And there it was. He'd almost had the balls up but had chickened out yet again. I knew his offer to bring me something back was a cop out because the poor guy was red as could be. He looked at me like he wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere, biting his lip and wiping his sweaty palms on his dress slacks.

  “No thanks, but I appreciate the offer, Asher,” I said with a friendly smile. “Enjoy your lunch.”

  Asher nodded and, without saying another word, he stepped out of my office and hurried away as quickly as he could.

  Awkward, I thought to myself. Even more so because the poor kid just didn't have the ability to ask a girl out. It wasn't like I was Angelina Jolie or Scarlett Johannsen. I was just me – a rather normal, average girl in a rather normal, average job with nothing really all that special about her. Poor Asher. If he couldn't work up the balls to ask me out, he was going to remain single forever. If he didn't grow a pair of balls – and grow them soon – the poor kid was going to die alone.

  But then I shrugged. Maybe there were other women out there who would appreciate his awkward, shy nature. They say there is somebody out there for everybody. But I sure as hell didn't like it. I liked a man who knew what he wanted and wouldn't hesitate in taking it. I cringed as I realized that the type of man I'd just described was a man like King.

  I sighed, remembering the text. I needed to respond to stop this entire mess before it started and managed to get out of hand. Because I figured that with a guy like King in the mix, things would find a way to get out of hand very, very quickly.

  Fine, I texted back. Let's meet for lunch in an hour. Do not come to my office. Meet me at Cato's Place. Deal?

  As soon as I hit the send button, I mentally kicked myself, knowing I had to clarify what I'd meant. Not just for him, but for myself, too. I quickly keyed in another message to him.

  And for the record, this is NOT a date. It's just to clear the air. Got it?

  King responded right away. Short and sweet.

  See ya then.

  Rolling my eyes, I put my phone away. My stomach growled and I knew I needed to stop for lunch, but I was too nervous to actually eat. What did King mean by that? He ignored my second text, the one telling him it wasn't a date. Was I making too much of it or was he intending to try and turn this into something more? Into something it wasn't?

  And if he did, would I have the strength to stop it this time? Would I have the strength to say no to the man? Because God knew just thinking about him turned me on so much, and it drove me crazy that it did. I wished I could just file him away under “impulsive mistake” in my mental filing cabinet and be done with him. I wished I could ignore him and never think about him again. And I also wished I had a spare pair of panties at work with me, because mine were soaked.

  And there I was, agreeing to go and have lunch with him. What in the bloody hell was I thinking?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  KING

  Cato's Place wasn't the type of restaurant I'd visit, if given the choice. It was way overpriced for what amounted to a glorified deli – at least, that's what it was in my eyes. The plates were smaller, the sandwiches were called panini and the damn things cost twice as much as a typical sandwich. I looked at the menu posted outside and saw that the soups all had fancy French-sounding names and the salads were filled with spinach and kale instead of good old fashioned lettuce. Even worse than that, they all came with fruity dressings instead of the stuff people liked – Ranch or Thousand Island. Not that I cared all that much for salad anyway, but still, once in a while, I got a craving for one and I sure as hell didn't want some weird vinaigrette slop thrown on top of it.

  Maybe the worst of the whole experience, though, was that when I showed up, I looked as out of place as I felt. I usually didn't care what people thought of me, and maybe it was just because I was meeting Abbie, I didn't know, but I felt like a dog walking on its hind legs wearing a tuxedo when I stepped into the place.

  The people in the joint openly stared – some of them not even bothering to hide their disgust – when I opened the door and walked inside. Maybe I should have changed out of my white shirt and leather vest into something a little more discrete. But then I thought, screw them. I wasn't about to change my appearance to fit in with a bunch of noses up in the air, snooty assholes who paid steak prices for a soup and salad. They were idiots for pretending it was somehow better than the deli down the street because they paid more for it.

  One woman with her hair pulled in a tight bun atop her head and dressed in church-attire scowled at me as I walked through the place, looking for a table. She looked me up and down while shaking her head, whispering something to the man sitting next to her. He had a goatee and a ponytail. Enough said. The man also looked at me, but there was something in his eyes. Something that said he wasn't disgusted with me, but, in fact, might envy me. Or was at least seemingly fascinated by me. The look on his face said I had the freedom he didn't – a freedom he longed for.

  Of course, if I had to bed down next to an uptight ballbuster like the one sitting next to him every damn night, I'd probably be longing for freedom pretty bad, too.

  A younger girl, possibly their daughter, sat at the table with them and also stared at me. But she smiled at me with a very wanton expression on her face. She was cute, but was obviously jailbait, so I didn't smile back. The last thing I needed was to get jammed up for nailing an underage girl.

  I chose a corner booth, far away from the judging eyes of the family and the flirty smiles from their daughter. Crossing my arms in front of me, I surveyed the room as a waitress came over with a glass of water. She smiled at me, but at the same time, she looked uncomfortable. She looked – scared. Like she didn't know if I was there to eat, rob the joint, or kill somebody. But at least she attempted to smile.

  “Hi there,” she said, not making eye contact with me as she put my glass of water down. “Just one today?”

  “No, I'm waiting for someone to join me.”

  “Okay, then,” the girl said, putting down two menus. “My name is Luna and I'll be serving you today.”

  Luna. Of course her name was Luna. She had that sort of hippie child look to her, so the fact that she was sporting a hippie child kind of name wasn't all that surprising. Or maybe it was just a nickname. The girl – and yes, she was very much a girl rather than a woman, likely no more than 18 years old – had dark brown hair and large, round brown eyes. The picture of innocence and hipsterdom, all the way down to her flannel shirt and skinny jeans.

  “Thank you, Luna,” I said with a smile, catching her eye for the first time. She looked away and walked off, suddenly, leaving me alone once more. I sipped my water – which had a twist of lemon, because of course it did; lemon made it all the fancier, even if it was water that came out of the damn tap – and waited. I saw a couple of older women staring at me, disapproving looks on their faces, so I raised my glass and smiled wide at them. They turned away quickly, heads
bowed together as they whispered to one another in earnest. Probably deciding whether or not they needed to call the cops or a SWAT team or something.

  I shook my head and then felt my breath catch in my throat. I saw Abbie the moment she stepped inside the restaurant – because how could I not see her? Her caramel-colored hair flowed over her shoulders in soft waves that carried soft highlights. Her hair framed that beautiful face that made my heart skip a beat. I kicked myself inside for going all googly-eyed and sappy the moment I saw the woman. But I couldn't seem to help myself. Immediately, flashes of that one epic night together came flooding back – and I felt myself growing stiff under the table. I adjusted to a more comfortable position and waved at her.

  Abbie's eyes caught mine right away and she smiled, a shy smile. A sweet smile. She was wearing a black pencil skirt that hugged her hips perfectly while also showing off her very well-defined calves. Her silky purple blouse also hugged her in all the right places, even allowing her nipples to show through. Was she cold? Or simply excited to see me? Obviously, I was hoping for the latter.