Scoundrel

by Keira Blackwood

  So what was I supposed to wear to give the appearance of someone put together enough to take care of a kid, and also prudish enough not to give Jett the wrong impression? Sure, I felt the undeniable draw that had to be the mating instinct, but there was no reason to believe he felt the same way. He couldn’t. I couldn’t. I had to be wrong. This was Jett Greyson.

  I dug through my bag and reminded myself of all the reasons he wasn’t the guy for me. He abandoned my best friend when she was pregnant with his baby. That was cause enough never to touch the man. I didn’t need more. I’d save all the other reasons for later, for when he was looking at me and my legs turned to jelly.

  I put on my long-sleeved green dress and looked in the mirror. Sure, there was some shoulder showing, but the cut was high, so no cleavage. But my legs...too much leg. I threw on some leggings underneath and decided I looked generally acceptable. The only thing better would have been if I’d brought along my Victorianesque coat, the one with buttons all the way up to my chin, but I hadn’t packed it, so this was going to have to do. Also, it was summer. So, the coat would have been overkill, anyway. This whole dress and pants at the same time thing I had going on—totally acceptable.

  There was a rapid succession of taps at my bedroom door. Had it already been twenty minutes? It felt like five. Maybe it was five and he was just screwing with me in some sadistic mind game.

  I shook the thought. It was fine. Everything was fine. It probably wasn’t even Jett at the door. He didn’t seem like a gentle knocker, more of a pounder, hard...strong…

  “Just a minute,” I called, then headed over and opened the door.

  Standing in the hall with a wide grin was the woman from the desk. She wore the kind of smile that took over her entire face. She owned the place, so it was going to get more awkward if at some point I didn’t remember her name. Maybe it started with an A. That sounded right. Althea? Alethea? Amy?

  “Paige, there’s a gentleman downstairs for you.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled and I closed the door behind me before heading down the hall. My nerves had me both wanting to run to him and wanting to run away.

  Once I was down the steps, I waited for his scent to greet me, but it didn’t. He wasn’t there. I glanced around the entry and living room areas, and then figured the only other place he could be was outside.

  So, I turned the handle and stepped out. The last shreds of sunlight were like high beams pointed right in my face. It was possible I’d spent too much time inside with the curtains shut.

  I stepped down from the porch, shielding my eyes like some kind of cave-dwelling bat, and blinked hard. An engine purred nearby, loud and smooth like a motorcycle, and the scent of warm spiced cider greeted me. I was almost afraid to move my hand and look, because I knew right there by the curb, it had to be Jett.

  Sucking it up like a damned adult, I lowered my hand, and there he was—leather jacket covering another t-shirt, this time a gray one. I practically drooled. I had never been much for leather, but this man could make me appreciate the finer points of wearing a potato sack. And, it made my choice in long sleeves seem more appropriate in the moderate evening air.

  “Hey,” he said. Damn that voice.

  “Hey.”

  Wait, he wasn’t expecting me to ride with him on the bike, was he?

  “I can follow you in my car,” I said.

  His lips curved in a smirk that I knew was at my expense. He reached out, offering me a helmet.

  This was crazy. I couldn’t ride a motorcycle. Where was I supposed to put my hands? I took the helmet and put it on, knowing it was my lady parts making this decision and not my brain. The fierce bear inside me was rolling over for him, submitting, waiting for him to rub her belly...and that was exactly what I wanted to do, too.

  Against my better judgement, I climbed on behind him and grabbed onto the sides of the seat, hoping it would be enough to keep me from falling and becoming roadkill once he started driving.

  His masculine scent enveloped me and I tried like hell to lean back far enough that I wasn’t touching him. I could feel the heat of the engine, the heat of his body. And the seat rumbled in delicious torture.

  Jett looked back over his shoulder at me. “You have to hold on.”

  “I am. I have a great grip...on this little metal thing here by the seat.”

  “You have to hold onto me.” He reached back and grabbed my wrists. My breath caught in my chest as a hot slice of electricity shot up my arms. He pulled my wrists forward, with firm but gentle pressure, and I didn’t fight him. He pulled me against him and placed my arms over his chest.

  I was either grinning from ear to ear, or again drooling—definitely one or the other—as I grabbed hold of his jacket. I wanted to stretch my palms beneath the leather, but I didn’t.

  When my body was flush against his, the motorcycle began to move. I held my breath, terrified that I’d fall off. I squeezed my fists so hard I was sure my knuckles were white, and I leaned my cheek on his back. The leather was cool and pleasant against my face, and I closed my eyes. It was a strange combination of sensations and emotions.

  “Doing okay?” he asked.

  “Mm-hmm, great.” Yep, that was a lie, or at least kind of. I was excited but scared. And I was turning into a big fat liar, just in time to hang out with a shifter, the only kind of guy who could sense the difference.

  “I’ll go slow,” he said.

  It didn’t feel slow. The wind whipped my hair, but I could see everything we passed, unlike being a passenger staring straight out the car window. When we went around a turn, everything shifted a bit to the side, but not enough to make me feel like I was falling. And after the second turn, I started to enjoy the feeling of riding on this thing. But all too soon, Jett slowed the bike and parked on the side of the street.

  We were sitting in front of a little restaurant marked Big Tony’s, and only after we both climbed off did I think to ask something I should have thought of as soon as he’d arrived on the bike.

  “So is Evie waiting for us with a friend?” I followed him up to the door, which he opened for me.

  “She’s with a friend.” Something about the way he said that set off my bullshit alarm. It wasn’t a lie, but...

  “Hey, Jett.” A round guy with a sauce-stained apron waived to us as we entered.

  “Hey, Tony.” Jett did one of those bro nods, which was more of a chin lift, then he led me between red and white checkered tables like he knew where we were going. Maybe Evie was at the last table and he could see her already digging into a slice of pizza.

  “We are going to see her now, right?”

  I knew the answer without him having to say a damned thing, yet still I was stupid enough to hope I was wrong.

  “Take a seat.” He gestured to a chair at an empty table, where there was absolutely no sign of Evie.

  “What is this?” My palms stung as my fingernails dug into my palms. “Jett?”

  “It’s dinner,” he said.

  “I thought...you know what? This is not what I agreed to. I’m…” If I left, that was it. I couldn’t expect him to hand over my best friend’s daughter if I stormed off now. What happened to proving I was a responsible caregiver? Ugh, sometimes I hated when my brain told me to be reasonable.

  “Please.” He gestured to the chair.

  I sat down, even though I didn’t want to. I felt like an idiot. I’d jumped on the back of his bike, no questions asked, and my sanity went all haywire with a touch or when he spoke. That was the solution—he couldn’t touch me and he had to write down everything he wanted to say, so I could read it without losing myself in his deep voice or those gorgeous blue pools of his eyes. Was that too much to ask?

  He sat across from me, and I didn’t stare. I was too mad at myself to appreciate the view, anyway.

  “Where is Evie?” My tone was cold, but I didn’t care. I crossed my arms and stood my ground.

  “Like I said, she’s with a friend. I needed us to
be alone.”

  Sure, that sounded hot. I wanted to be alone, and tangled up naked with him, but I wasn’t going to do that, and not just because he’d knocked up and betrayed my friend. He was a bad person, a criminal, a manipulative bastard.

  “This isn’t a date,” I said.

  His brows shot up. “It wasn’t intended to be.”

  Oh. My cheeks grew hot.

  He continued, “Like I said on the phone, I need your help. With Evelyn. I thought we could get to know each other—”

  “Sounds like a date to me.”

  His lips flattened into a line. I was frustrating him. Good.

  “You care about Evelyn,” he said.

  It didn’t sound like a question, but I treated it like one anyway. “Yes.”

  “So do I. Do you trust me?”

  “Hell no.” I shot him a look that said everything my words didn’t, though to be honest, I’d been pretty clear what I thought of him with my words already.

  “So how do you expect me to trust you if we don’t get to know each other?” he asked.

  Okay, maybe that was fair. Tension eased from my shoulders and I laced my fingers together in my lap. But I was still on edge, ready to fight if I needed to.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” He leaned forward, placing an elbow on the table.

  I let myself stare at his lips only for a second, then I met his gaze with steel. “How about something more specific to start.”

  “Last time I asked this, you seemed offended when I didn’t know the answer already.”

  Uh oh, here we go. Round two. I just stared at him and waited.

  “I’ve thought a lot about it, and Evelyn doesn’t want to talk, so I really need to ask you again.”

  Ask me what exactly? What did he ask her that he needed to ask me? “Okay, what?”

  “You said you were friends with Marla. Who is Marla?”

  This time I wasn’t surprised, but the fact that he didn’t know still left a bad taste in my mouth.

  The big guy that worked there came over, and with a wave from Jett, he turned right back around.

  “She was my best friend. She was Evie’s mom.” My voice cracked, but I was holding my shit together pretty well if I did say so myself.

  “Tell me about her.”

  “She looked just like Evelyn, with that blond hair and big smile, and she was human. She was hilarious and sweet, and we were best friends since forever. You met her at a coffeehouse where she worked.”

  He looked down at the table, and I could see the gears turning in his head. When he looked up at me again, his eyes were soft. “Big brown eyes, always at Big Beans on Friday mornings?”

  “Yes. That was her.” Finally, he remembered.

  His brows furrowed. “You’ve been speaking about her in the past tense.”

  “Yeah, she died. It’s been a couple of years now.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” He wore a gentle expression like he was fucking sincere. I knew for a fact he wasn’t lying, because of the whole shifter thing. This whole thing was weird. It was hard to hate him when he was being so nice about it all.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed the straw from the table and picked at the paper.

  “What happened to Evelyn after that?”

  “She moved in with her grandmother. Everything was fine. Tough, but fine, for a long time. I visit every couple of months, and do what I can when Marla’s mom calls needing something.” I looked at him, and he seemed to have no recognition to any of this. “So when Marla’s mom broke her hip in a fall…”

  “That’s how she ended up here.” His lips flattened into a line and he laced his fingers together on the edge of the table.

  “Yeah.”

  “I wish I would have known sooner.”

  “What?”

  “About Evelyn. I was in a shitty place for—”

  “What do you mean, wish you had known? Known that it was hard on Marla’s mom? Or that Marla struggled to raise Evelyn by herself?” Frustration boiled just beneath the surface, and I didn’t care that we were in public. Jett needed to hear just how much shit he’d left Marla to deal with by herself. Hot damn, this man was a rollercoaster.

  “I wish I’d known I had a daughter.”

  That left me floored. I stared at him, knowing I hadn’t heard a lie in his words. How the fuck was that the truth?

  “Marla told you when she found out. She told you and you sent her away.” My eyes glossed and my voice broke.

  “No.” He leaned forward. “I wish she had, but she didn’t. I never knew.”

  I stared at him, as he spoke the truth. I sat still and stunned as my world turned upside down.

  Chapter Seven

  Jett

  The most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on sat across from me, trying to figure out if the hatred she felt for me was just. I couldn’t blame her. I’d committed my fair share of sins and then some, but this was not one of them.

  “I don’t…” Paige frowned, and a small crease formed on her forehead. “Why would she lie to me about that?”

  “I have no idea.” I remembered the flirty woman from the coffeehouse, but we hadn’t known each other beyond a first name basis. We’d shared an awkward one night stand, and after that, I’d started buying my coffee elsewhere.

  “If Marla didn’t tell you about Evie, what else did she tell me that wasn’t true? I should have known if she was lying to me.”

  “I wish I could tell you.” Sure, shifters could sense lies, but not necessarily omissions of truth or deception through carefully chosen words. If Paige hadn’t expected her friend to lie to her, she wouldn’t have been looking for deception.

  Paige put her hands on the table and stared down at them. I wanted to reach across and touch her. I wanted to console her, but we weren’t at a place with each other where I could do that. I needed to give her space.

  Paige looked up at me. “How many times did you two…”

  “One night, six or seven years ago.”

  “She did say it was just one date before you started ghosting her. So at least that’s consistent.” A line formed between her brows. “And it was eight years ago. Evelyn is seven.”

  Paige gave me a disapproving glare that told me I should know how old my kid was. She had given me a lot of those glares, but this time, she was right.

  “I did ask her how old she was,” I offered in my defense.

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No.” I sucked in a deep breath. “She’s hardly told me anything. But I want her to. I want to be the father she deserves.”

  “You can’t do that.” Her eyes narrowed and then softened. “You can’t do that here. With your—”

  She leaned in closer and her sweet scent enveloped me. “With your biker gang.”

  Her words stung.

  “We’re not a gang.” I maintained my posture and my tone, not letting my discomfort show. “We’re a motorcycle club.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve seen Sons of Anarchy.”

  I laughed. It sounded a little bitter, but really, I was just amused. She blinked hard and sat up straight. I admired the single freckle on her cheek, the thickness of her eyelashes, the curve of her breasts.

  “We do security,” I said. “It’s a good show, but how many times could an MC really sell guns to the same gang? They must have thrown out their assault weapons every time they needed a new clip.”

  A hint of a smile played on her lips. It made her even more beautiful. I wanted to taste those full lips, see the way they looked wrapped around my cock, my fingers threaded through her silky hair.

  “Okay, so what Marla told me about that part of your life is also untrue.”

  “Sort of. The Butchers used to be...for hire.” I wasn’t proud of it, but it was true.

  “Like hitmen?” she whispered.

  “Not exactly. But it’s different now.”

  “Even if you guys are good now, what’s to st
op trouble from coming home with you, to Evie?”

  I wished I had a good answer. It’s a big part of why I was here, asking for help.

  “I would do anything to protect her.” Or you. I left the last part unspoken. This woman was my mate, and I’d do anything to make her mine, but for now I’d settle on her being able to look at me without disapproval.

  A sound came from across the table, a groan from her stomach. She blushed and looked away.

  “We should order,” I said.

  “Yeah, okay.” She grabbed a menu from next to the napkin holder.

  Her lips moved the tiniest bit as she read the paper card. It was adorable.

  Paige flicked her gaze up and looked at me. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  She narrowed her eyes and then leaned back. “What’s good here?”

  “The pizza, the lasagna, the chicken with—”

  “Back up. I haven’t had lasagna in forever.”

  I gave a wave to Tony, and he came right over.

  “Ready to order?” He smiled at both of us, his attention lingering just a little too long on my mate. The growl that came from my chest caught me by surprise. I’d never been one for jealousy, but I’d also never found my mate before. The wolf in me was ready to tear this man to shreds just for looking at her—again completely unexpected. And I liked Tony.

  Both Tony and Paige stared at me like I was crazy. Hell, I couldn’t blame them.

  Better to order and then we’d be alone again. “We’ll both have the lasagna.”

  I watched Paige’s expression change from surprise to something else. Her breathing quickened ever so slightly as her eyes grazed over my chest, then she shook her head and looked away. Maybe she liked that I was being territorial.

  It wasn’t just me who felt this draw. But did she feel the same certainty I did that we were meant to be mates? Plenty of women had looked at me like that, but I’d never felt this way about anyone before.

  “What would you two like to drink?” Tony asked, this time keeping his attention set on me. Smart man.

  “Water for me. Paige?”

  “Water’s great.” She looked at the brick wall beside us, down at the checkerboard table, anywhere but at me. I wanted to grab her chin and force her to look at me. Taste her lips and see what she had to say then.