Snatched (Outlaw Warriors)

by Cathleen Ross

  He fished his wallet from his jeans pocket and pulled out several condoms. “What did you first like about me?” he asked, ripping off a wrapper.

  She swallowed, eyeing the number of small packets, craving him. She rubbed her thighs together. “I didn’t. I saw all the biker gear, and it put me off. You asked me out, and I said no.”

  He pulled back and scowled. “What kind of an answer is that?”

  “An honest one.”

  “Well, I don’t like it.”

  “Tough.”

  He flipped her over on her stomach and smacked her bottom.

  “Ouch!”

  “Got a better answer?”

  She struggled to keep her mind on the story, trying to think—nearly impossible with him so close. “Only if you rub my butt better. That stings.”

  He smoothed his hand over and around her bottom until the pain went away. “Well?”

  “I thought you were a bad influence on Brian.”

  Smack!

  “Yeow!”

  She struggled to get up, but he pinned her down. His dark eyes were gleaming, and pre-cum was dripping from his cock. She imagined his big Harley throbbing between her legs. Oh, God.

  “But I was hooked from the first ride,” she said, “and even though I didn’t want to like you, it changed my life forever.”

  “Better.” He rolled the condom over his cock, then slid his fingers under her G-string and began to stroke her.

  She groaned when he touched her clit. “Oh, that’s good.”

  “It’s always going to be good between us.”

  He raised her bottom up and moved behind her. Tugging her G-string aside, he leaned down, slid his tongue inside her, his nose against her ass. Her butt was still burning, her clit on fire as he stroked it with his fingers and used his tongue like a cock, licking around the entrance before driving it into her.

  God, the man had magic fingers. She’d never felt anything like this. He was so skilled. He knew just how to get the pressure right and build it.

  When the orgasm hit, it consumed her. She arched her back so her bottom was up to give him better access, covered her face with the crook of her elbow, and screamed.

  He spread her apart with his thumbs and sucked on her clit, licking the tip. Another orgasm slammed into her, and he licked her hood while her whole body trembled until it finally subsided.

  Spent, she rested, her ass still in the air, her legs still spread, her face mashed into the mattress, trying to catch her breath.

  He rose up on his knees and drove his cock into her. She was wet and ready, but it was still a lot to take. She told herself to relax. She was more experienced now, and, as Troy’s hot cock stroked inside her, she could feel herself sheathing him, accepting the size of him.

  He grabbed her hips to keep her steady, and drove into her again and again, his pace so hard and fast he was like a man on fire. Her whole body tingled until she began to quiver, loving the hard thrusts, the depth of his wicked possession.

  With a deep moan, he came, gripping her and moaning until he collapsed on top of her then rolled off so he didn’t crush her with his weight.

  He pulled her close to spoon her, and she melted into his arms. She wanted to tell him how much she cared for him, but knew she was just drugged with hormones. He was a rugged alpha biker, and she was the daughter of a socialite.

  She could feel his hot breath on her neck, and she rolled around to face him. She knew he didn’t like to talk after sex, but as the afterglow passed, her worry started to surface.

  “Troy, your father is hardly going to believe you interrogated me over Brian and Lizzie if we were a couple all along.”

  He pushed her top off her shoulders. “He didn’t, anyway, which is why he wanted to send over Hawg.” Troy reached around and unclipped her bra, slipping it off her, too. “Did I ever tell you, you have the most beautiful breasts?”

  He leaned over to suck her nipples, first one and then the other.

  Her stomach clenched. She wanted him again, and she could tell he wanted her, too. He reached down for another condom.

  It was going to be a busy afternoon.

  Chapter Twenty

  Troy sat in Stacey’s kitchen, watching as she finalized a spicy shrimp dish, trying to work out why the hell he’d formed an attachment to her. He’d only known the woman for a few days, so why the fuck couldn’t he think of her as just an assignment?

  Simple. He’d treated her badly, and he owed her. So, he’d keep her safe. The end.

  Except it wasn’t. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d thought he could just fuck her to get rid of the itch, but the itch had become a burn that wouldn’t leave.

  And it wasn’t even the type of fucking he was used to. Stacey was inexperienced, so he was learning about her body at the same time as she was, and she was turning out to be a deeply sensual woman. She hadn’t balked at the spanking, and he suspected there’d be many other delights he’d be able to teach her.

  It couldn’t last. They were from different worlds. But it was great while it did last because it made him feel damned good. He needed something good after the last op had gone wrong. He’d taken out innocents. It was no use telling himself that it was an accident, or that it didn’t matter because there was always collateral damage in war.

  Because it did matter.

  He didn’t want to kill anymore.

  And he didn’t want Stacey hurt.

  “You okay, Troy?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  She came over and kissed him on the cheek. “You can talk to me if you want to.”

  “Can’t.”

  She squeezed his shoulder but didn’t push it. Instead, she went back to her work.

  Turned out his princess could cook. While he lived on army rations at work, and steak and hamburgers at home, she’d insisted on doing a three-course meal accompanied by wine.

  He made sure there was plenty of beer for Pa. Although Pa would be satisfied with the fillet steak she’d insisted on buying, he knew Mom loved Cajun cooking and would be pleased with the exotic shrimp Stacey planned to serve first.

  “Tell me, how does Jean-Paul fit into the family, again?”

  Grateful for the change of topic, he said, “My mother is from an old French New Orleans family. Jean-Paul is her cousin.”

  Stacey paused thoughtfully with her spatula in the air. “So, how does an old, refined family fit with a motorcycle gang?” she asked.

  “Mom’s estranged from her family. And it’s a club,” he corrected her.

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s not a gang. It’s a club.”

  She went back to cooking. “You could have fooled me,” she said with a shudder.

  “It’s a legit club, baby. We own bars and motorcycle shops.”

  “Nothing illegal?”

  He shrugged. “Plenty, back in my grandfather’s day. But no more. Pa cleaned the club up.”

  She put a hand on her hip. “You’re telling me those hookers are legal?”

  “Escorts.” He grinned. He liked it when she challenged him. “And we don’t own that business. Pa’s just doing a favor for Gabriella.”

  She gave him a disparaging head shake. “Your father’s protecting prostitutes. Bet your mother likes that.”

  “She doesn’t. And Pa’s finding it a pain in the butt.”

  Stacey shot him a wry glance. “Don’t even go there.”

  He laughed. Nope. This gorgeous woman was never going to fit into his world. “Thanks for agreeing to meet Pa, considering the circumstances.”

  She started dishing up the rice. “You sure he’s not going to do something mean to me?”

  Troy wandered over and looked for a wine opener. “No. He’ll behave because he worships Mom. He’ll do anything to please her. Dad’s side were swamp farmers. Dirt poor. Mom’s an only child who stands to inherit a plantation if her father passes before her mother. I don’t think Pa ever thought he’d marry a classy woman l
ike Mom.”

  “Too bad about her break with her family, though.”

  “Yeah. But if we can convince her we’re for real, you’ll be able to live in New Orleans.”

  “Even if you’re not here.”

  “You’ll be protected for life.” He didn’t like her ready acceptance that he wouldn’t be here.

  “Until you get tired of me.”

  He darted her a warning glance. “Like I said, for life.”

  She gave him a look of patent disbelief. “Anyway, I don’t want bikers protecting me. I don’t want them in my business. That’s why I left New York. To finally be in charge of my own life, not end up under someone else’s control, even worse than my mother’s.”

  “No one wants control over you.” Well, except maybe him, in bed. “You’ll make your own decisions, but one phone call to Pa and you’ll have help if you need it.”

  “I won’t.”

  She could be right. He’d watched her shut out that slime bucket, Bill, from her father’s bank account this afternoon. She was definitely a survivor.

  “So, you’re French? That’s where you got your swarthy good looks from.” She put the shrimp dish in the refrigerator to cool. She seemed to know instinctively when to change the subject.

  But then, so did he.

  “Swarthy good looks, eh? You find me hot?”

  He sat back down on the kitchen chair, toying with the wine opener as she marinated the steaks with garlic and Cajun spices. It would be all too fancy for Pa, but Troy didn’t care. He was enjoying watching her move. She was wearing a little white dress in some delicate fabric that he could almost see through.

  “Quit looking at me like you’re undressing me.”

  He grinned. “Why?”

  She looked over her shoulder again and glanced down at his lap. “Your parents are due soon. Please don’t answer the door with a hard-on. That would be really embarrassing.”

  “I’ll try not to,” he said. He was, indeed, sporting another boner, which he’d need an ice pack to flatten. He wanted to bend her over the table and do her hard. Lift that little white dress up at the back and pull down her neat, white panties. Hell, rip the damn things off with his teeth.

  “Troy! I mean it.”

  He heard the throttle of Pa’s Harley pulling up in the drive. “Speak of the devil. Now, be a good, loving fiancée and come with me. My parents’ names are Joe and Georgia, though you may like to call them Pa and Mom.”

  She made a face. “I doubt that.”

  “Play nice, Stacey. If you insist on living in New Orleans, I need my father on our side. Make sure you tell Mom you’re planning to have a truckload of babies in the future. That’ll seal her approval. Once you’ve got that, you’re in.”

  Stacey’s face fell, and she gripped his arm. “God, I hope I can keep the story we practiced straight.”

  “Just be yourself. Mom believes in love. She fell for Pa when she was fifteen.”

  “What!”

  “Yeah. Pa wooed her, got her pregnant with me, and made her the black sheep of her family. Her father disowned her, but she’s in contact with her mother. She’ll recognize an outsider when she sees one. Turning that around is going to be the challenge.”

  Stacey puffed out a breath. “I’ll do my best, but no guarantees.”

  He didn’t comment on her light-hearted response because he didn’t want to scare her. This had to work because the alternative of Hawg coming at Stacey with a knife was unthinkable. Troy would have to step up and protect her, which meant turning against his club.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Despite everything, Stacey was curious to meet Troy’s parents. She really wanted to know where this compelling warrior came from. When she met Joe and Georgia DeLance, the pieces fell into place.

  It didn’t matter that Georgia was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans—it was clear she was a class act. She took off her helmet, and soft blonde hair floated around her shoulders and over her baby-pink off-the-shoulder top. She had refined bone structure, big, expressive dark eyes, and a welcoming smile.

  Next to her stood a tall bear of a man with thick black eyebrows over coal-colored eyes, his face framed with a bushy beard. There were never two more opposite people than Troy’s parents. But it was clear where Troy had gotten his fine looks and strong build.

  He kissed his mother on both cheeks, then gave his father an awkward man hug. After greeting his parents, he put a protective arm around Stacey. “Pa and Mom, meet Stacey Martin. Stacey, these are my parents, Joe and Georgia DeLance.”

  “Welcome,” Stacey said, shaking Georgia’s hand nervously. “I’ve been practicing my Cajun cooking. I hope you like it. Come into the kitchen and Troy will fix you a drink.”

  “Cajun. That’s my favorite,” Georgia said.

  “Troy told me.” She gave Georgia a big smile, grabbed Troy’s hand, and led him up the hall, mainly to avoid shaking hands with Joe. She still didn’t quite trust the man.

  In the kitchen, Troy fixed his mother a glass of wine and put a beer into Joe’s hand, but his father barely looked at Troy. Instead, both his parents’ gazes were glued on her.

  To hide her nerves, she got busy. While Troy and his parents sat at the table chatting, she took the bowl of marinated shrimp out of the fridge, lined a plate with lettuce leaves, and started spooning them onto it.

  Georgia was still watching her. “I’ve never met a special girlfriend of Troy’s before,” she said. “He’s always kept them hidden away.”

  Stacey dished up the cocktail sauce. “Hopefully, I’ll knock some of the secretiveness out of him.”

  Troy raised his eyebrows at her.

  “Good luck with that.” Pa coughed into his beer.

  “I know he can’t talk about his work,” his mom said, “but it would be nice if my son brought his lovely girlfriend around once in a while.”

  “I am sitting right here, you know,” Troy drawled.

  “So are you going to tell your parents our news, darling?” Stacey said, trying to look the part of a blushing future bride.

  “Troy?” His mom turned to him.

  “We’re engaged, Mom,” he said.

  Stacey held up her hand to show off her amazing ring. “Jean-Paul helped us choose the ring. Isn’t it beautiful?” The diamond sparkled in the light, gleaming with lies.

  Joe’s eyes widened, and he started choking on a swallow of beer.

  Karma. So good.

  Georgia tore her shocked gaze from the ring and thumped him on the back until he settled. Stacey refrained from offering him a glass of water.

  “Troy. This is quite a surprise,” Georgia said, her big dark eyes doubtful, but also filled with hope.

  “I told Pa earlier today that we’re engaged. That’s what this dinner is about,” Troy said, squirming in his seat.

  “And you failed to tell me this, Joe?” Georgia scolded her husband indignantly.

  “Yeah, sorry, honey,” Joe managed to get out.

  “I’m his mother. Why am I the last one to know?”

  “Thought he was pulling my chain.” Pa glared at Troy, who sat back with a grin on his face, clearly savoring his father’s shock. She sensed Joe was the kind of man who expected everyone to know their place, and it was always going to be under him. Trouble was, Troy was pure alpha.

  Stacey bit her lip and twisted the ring on her finger. “I would have been happy with the smallest diamond in Jean-Paul’s shop, but Troy insisted on this one.”

  Pa took her hand and examined the ring. “That is a big diamond. You come into money, son?”

  “Never had anyone special enough to spend it on. I do now,” Troy said, staring straight at his father.

  Joe opened his mouth to speak but started choking again. Stacey relented and brought him a glass of water, which he gulped down.

  “I’ve never seen Pa drink water before,” Troy said. “Guess this really is a surprise for him. He’s never thought I was capable of falling for someon
e. Thinks I’m cold.” Troy winked at her.

  “No way. He was the most loving little boy.” Georgia patted Troy’s hand.

  Troy grinned at his mother.

  “Oh, he’s anything but cold,” Stacey murmured.

  Georgia was smiling ear to ear. “I told you our boy would be all right if he met the right girl.” She stood up and turned to Stacey. Now, come here and give your future mother-in-law a big hug.”

  Stacey stepped into Georgia’s embrace and exchanged a warm hug with her. It was genuine and heartfelt, bringing with it a real feeling of acceptance.

  Then Georgia turned and gave her son an even bigger hug. “I’m so happy for you, son.”

  Troy returned his mother’s embrace. It was so loving that Stacey’s heart warmed. It was nice to see this side of him.

  “I’m glad you always believed in me, Mom,” he said.

  Stacey smiled at him, fascinated to see him be affectionate. Somehow, she hadn’t imagined him having a soft side, but clearly he adored his mom.

  Pa, however, shot Troy a deadly glare. Sweat had beaded at his temple. He coughed again.

  “Joe, are you okay?” Stacey asked as sweetly as she could. “Or, would you mind if I call you Pa? My own father just passed away, so it would be a comfort to me.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Georgia said sympathetically.

  Troy, on the other hand, closed his eyes for a moment, and his mouth tightened as if trying not to laugh. Not about her father, of course, but because she’d asked his Pa so sweetly when he knew damn well she was not a fan of the old man. She hoped she wasn’t overdoing it, because she felt it was a bit like poking a rattlesnake.

  Joe’s eyes were still watering, his face mottled, so he just nodded. Stacey didn’t know whether he was giving permission for her to call him Pa, or if he was saying he was okay. She got him another glass of water, and he gulped it down.

  After he settled, his expression turned suspicious. “Where did you two meet?”

  “Right here in this kitchen,” she answered. “My brother introduced us.”

  Joe scowled and swung his gaze to Troy. The tension crackled between them. But she figured she may as well acknowledge the giant elephant in the room.