For the second time with shit she was saying, this time especially after that kiss, he couldn’t believe his ears.
“You’re not gonna come to me because of your cat?”
“Again, not my cat, though he is because I’m claiming him. He’s my roommate’s cat. She’s a doctor without borders. And I suspect, since she’s on stretch number two, she’s never returning home. So I’m taking this as an abandonment issue even though all of her belongings are still in my apartment, including her cat. But if by chance she does return, and she tries to reclaim my-cat-not-my-cat, I might have to catnap him and go on the lam.”
After she delivered that, so they didn’t have sex for the first time on his kitchen floor either, in that moment he considered it a very good thing the bar was between them.
“Are you always this cute?” he asked.
“I hope so. Are you always this cute?” she asked back.
“I’m not cute, babe.”
“You so totally are,” she mumbled, again to the neck of her beer bottle.
She took a sip and then grinned at him.
Okay, what the fuck?
Why was his dick getting hard just watching her grin?
“So, how many books do you have?” she returned to her earlier question.
“Bring your cat here, before your date-not-date.”
She huffed out a disbelieving laugh and asked, “You’re going to hold my-cat-not-my-cat hostage so I’ll come to you after my date-not-date?”
“Yup,” he confirmed before he took his first sip of his own beer.
“And you want me to serve my-cat-not-my-cat up as hostage by bringing him to you before my date-not-date?” she asked, now smiling huge.
He leaned into both forearms on the bar, his hands cradling his beer between them.
She hesitated only a second before she did the same thing so they were close enough to start kissing again.
He didn’t kiss her.
“So we got our plan,” he decreed, because, as funny as she was, he was done talking about her cat. “You come to me before you go to him and bring your cat. Then you come to me after. We talk. We drink beer. We watch TV. Whatever. We sleep together but do not fuck. And I’ll take you out to dinner the night after, and that’s when we’ll sleep together, after fucking.”
“I guess we do have our plan since the brand-new biker guy in my life has just declared that’s the plan.”
“Affirmative.”
She started laughing soft and quiet and hella pretty.
And he knew they had their plan.
Only then did he relax.
“And I have no idea how many books I have,” he told her.
“Have you read them all?”
“Not yet.”
“Is that a goal?”
“Yeah.”
“Impressive,” she whispered, not looking amused.
Looking into him and wanting to be kissed.
He pushed forward and touched his lips to hers.
She followed him a little when he pulled away, then quirked her lips in surrender when she realized that was all she was going to get.
For now.
“So what do you know that brought you to that warehouse?” he asked.
It was then she realized they were out of the flirty banter and into the heavy, so she sighed, but didn’t hesitate sharing, “I have other sources. Kids, or not-so-much kids anymore, that I met from past stories. When Jackson, the DPD guy, held out on me, I moved down the list to them and told them what I wanted. They were good kids who got disenfranchised, they liked me, thought I was cool, and fortunately as time passed, they didn’t quit doing that. So they poked around a bit and gave me some leads. The other stuff I checked out and it led to dead ends. I’m assuming, since you were there, that what I was about to look into tonight wasn’t a dead end.”
“Full disclosure, I was into you when your sister texted me your picture, and stayed into you even when you got off the plane in a bad mood—”
“You’re being generous now, honey,” she whispered. “It wasn’t just a bad mood. I was awful to you.”
He kept going like she didn’t talk and like hearing her call him “honey” in that sweet voice of hers didn’t hit him warm in the gut.
“So tonight was part about me making a fucked-up assumption and part that Vance had just warned me that if I got caught close to that warehouse, I’d disappear. So it was also part me pissed as shit you were bumbling around in a dangerous sitch that might get you hurt, or worse.”
She pushed up and asked, “Bumbling?”
He pushed up too and asked in return, “Did you know you were onto something that might get you disappeared?”
She didn’t answer, though she did, since she took an annoyed sip of her beer.
“Right,” he muttered.
She rolled her eyes.
That meant it was his turn to grin.
“I want in on your talk with the cops tomorrow,” she declared.
He was about to slug back more beer, but that stopped him.
“Georgie, you’re out. I got this.”
There was a serious chill on her, “I’m sorry?”
Fuck.
“This shit is dangerous and there’s a dead man to prove it,” he pointed out.
“Well, I’m not asking to be a part of the takedown team when the cops go in and bust this black-market ring. I’m just saying I want to be there when you talk to the cops. And I want to keep on what I’m doing. Because I have things to contribute and most of it might come to nothing. But some of it might help Carlyle find some closure, if not peace.”
Goddamn it, he couldn’t argue that.
“Fine,” he said.
“Fine,” she snapped.
“I’m in on your shit too.”
Her expression softened in order to soften her words. “Dutch, you can’t come on my date-not-date with me. That’d definitely make Jackson clam up.”
“I get that, baby, but the other shit. The street kids. Whatever.”
She seemed to be contemplating this. “Work as a team?”
“Why not?”
She smiled at him. “Cool.”
Yeah, it was.
“It might be fun,” she said.
Yeah, it would.
He grinned at her and took another sip.
Then, regrettably, he had to get into more heavy.
So he leaned back into his elbows, and he saw her mentally brace, which meant she read him, as he meant her to, before she leaned into hers.
He tried to cushion his words as best as he could when he gave it to her.
“You know I’m gonna have to tell my brother about Carolyn.”
She dropped her head and stared down at her beer.
He lifted a hand and curved it around her jaw, so she looked at him again.
“I can give you two days to prepare her. In that time, she can come clean. She can do whatever. But after those two days are up, Georgie, I gotta give Jag what he needs to have, and I’m gonna warn you, he’s gonna lose it and scrape her off.”
“Yeah,” she said sadly.
“He won’t hurt her, at least not—”
“I know.”
“He’s also not gonna get shitty about getting his money back. But she’ll be dead to him.”
“I know,” she repeated.
“It’s not all about the money. Drugs are a no-go with us, baby.”
“Me too,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to do about her. She’s a hot mess, and not only in this way, which is saying something.”
And more of her bad mood at the airport was explained, and this shit was even bigger.
With regret, he took his hand from her and said, “We can talk about that tomorrow night after you get here from your date-not-date. Now, ’cause I wanna kiss you again to take your mind off shit things, and if I do, that’ll take us where we shouldn’t go until we get to know each other a little better, I gotta get you home.”
; “Back to my car, you mean.”
“Then I’ll follow you home.”
“I can drive myself home, Dutch.”
“I know that, Georgiana. But you’ll be driving away from a warehouse full of black market shit, and the bad guys who deal it, where I do not know if we wandered into their camera range and they saw me drag you out of there. So they might be even more vigilant. So I want to make sure you’re not followed. With me?”
She nodded.
“Quick kiss, then finish your beer, then we’re out of here.”
She gave him that got-your-cock look again which caught the attention of his cock, as it was meant to do, and said, “You so want in my pants.”
He arched a brow. “And you don’t want in mine?”
She inched forward a little. “I oh-so want in your pants.”
He chuckled.
She leaned into him and gave him a quick, hard kiss, before she pushed back to straight and he watched, unmoving from his lean into the counter, as she tipped her head back and downed more than half a beer in one go.
“Talk about impressive,” he teased on a smile when she finished.
“I’m this close to jumping your bones because you’re being so cute, so you best get me home, bad boy.”
“I’m not cute.”
“Whatever.”
Someone was going to get their bones jumped, and in order not to jump that gun, because they started out way wrong, and he was going to lead them forward all right, he pushed up, socked back another slug, but didn’t down the whole thing. He set his beer aside, rounded the bar, caught her hand, and led her to her jacket on his couch.
As she pulled it on, she said, “It’s super cool you’re letting me give Carolyn a heads-up that you’re gonna tell Jagger.”
“If you don’t want to be thrown under that bus that Jag knows because I know because you told me, then we can do it whatever way is your way, but it’s gotta get done, and sooner not later.”
She nodded. “Can I tell you at our cop talk tomorrow?”
He returned her nod.
He also took her hand again to lead her out to his truck.
But she tugged on his and he stopped moving.
“When is that?” she asked.
“Lunch. Noon. Eddie Chavez and Hank Nightingale.”
She nodded.
“I’ll pick you up at eleven-thirty,” he told her.
She nodded again and said, “I’ll need your cell number.”
“You can program it in, in the truck.”
Another nod then, “Dutch.”
“Right here,” he stated when she didn’t say anything else.
She looked weird for a beat before she blurted, “I like you.”
He felt his lips twitch as he shifted, getting closer, and his voice was low when he said, “I hope so.”
“I just…well, it…” She cleared her throat. “Carolyn played Jagger and—”
He interrupted her.
“We’re here, finally.”
“Uh…sorry?”
“We’re at the good part to being in the biker world.”
“What’s that?” she whispered, staring up at him.
He got even closer, dipped his head to hers, and with their mouths close, and eyes locked, he answered, “Live and let live, Georgie.”
“So you’re saying, if we…you know, if something comes of us—”
“You’re you, she’s Carolyn, and Jag will know the difference. And no offense to your sister, but he’s not that into her, so it might sting, that’ll mostly be to his pride, but he’ll get over it, though he’ll get over her faster.”
“Okay,” she said breathily.
He liked the way she said that.
He liked the way she was staring up at him, like she could stand there for a year and do it and be totally down with that.
So he changed his mind.
“I think we need to kiss again,” he told her.
“And I think you’re absolutely right,” she replied.
She pushed up on her toes.
He bent down.
They both wound their arms around each other.
And they went at it.
He managed (mostly) not letting his dick get (too) hard.
But it wasn’t easy.
Then he ended it, walked her to his truck, took her to her car, followed her home and waited outside until he saw the light go on in the unit she told him was hers and she texted, All good.
He waited some more and got, Murtagh is looking forward to his adventure.
He waited even longer and got, Murtagh is my cat-not-my-cat. FYI.
Only then did he reply, Go to bed, baby.
And on his way home, he got, Cute.
Chapter Five
The Right Stuff
Dutch
Dutch was in a moderately bad mood at eleven twenty-seven the next day when he knocked on Georgiana’s door.
It didn’t take long before she opened it, and she did that with her face happy and eyes alight, a big smile on her mouth.
“Hey!” she greeted.
“Babe, you gave me the code to your building,” he stated irritably.
Something she did, via text, that morning, half an hour ago, not at his request.
The smile wobbled. “What?”
“We barely know each other.”
“Dutch, you’ve had your tongue in my mouth.”
“I know.”
“And maybe doing that again would be a better way to greet your New-Style American Girl You’re Gonna Start Seeing.”
At the vague but hilarious reference to Sixteen Candles, and Georgie just being Georgie, he moved fast, hooked her around the waist and hauled her so hard to his body, she let out a high, adorable squeal.
He then laid a wet one on her, shuffling her back into her pad as he did it, hearing the door swing shut behind him.
When he ended it, she was visibly dazed and blinking.
He made note of that since, with the way she ran her mouth, it might come in handy.
“You buzz strangers up,” he ordered.
She recovered and retorted, “You’re not a stranger.”
“We could go bad and I’ve got your code.”
Georgie tipped her head to the side. “Are we gonna go bad?”
“No.”
She got that look he liked way too much, pressed close and moved her hands so they were curled around either side of his neck. “Dutch. We have a new building manager and he’s King of Security. He changes the code randomly and often.”
That made him feel better, and he gave her a squeeze to communicate that.
“He’s also installed more cameras, which means our HOA payment has gone up, and I’m down with more security. The rise in HOA fees, though, bites,” she went on to share.
This surprised him.
“Your landlord makes you pay the HOA?” he asked.
“Since I’m my landlord, yes,” she answered.
This surprised him more. “You own this place?”
It wasn’t tactful, but she didn’t take offense and showed him that by busting out laughing.
Through it, she said, “I don’t know where that comes from, either you don’t think my pad is all that hot and don’t understand why I bought it, or you don’t think I have it together enough to be a homeowner.”
“Babe,” he muttered, lacing that word with apology.
She ran a finger along the stubble at his jaw and said softly, “This pad isn’t all that hot, but it was what I could afford when I got a bee in my bonnet about getting on the property ladder. It took a lot of scraping money together, a couple years of seriously frugal living, and a loan from my dad, but I managed it. Though, I continue to manage it by having a roommate who was in med school when I found her, then took off to save the world, somewhat literally, but still pays half the mortgage.”
“I haven’t seen it, still know it’s a good investment.”
That made her look surprised.
“Sorry?”
“You’ll move on, but you can rent this until you die. It’ll be a tidy source of income. I got the same. Two rental properties. My brother Snap makes a mint off stuff he owns, I followed that road.”
More surprise from Georgie. “So you own a house and two rental properties?” She didn’t let him answer, but quickly said, “And that isn’t about you being a biker. It’s about…” She didn’t finish that either, in a way. She also did by asking, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
Now she looked stunned. “And you own three properties?”
“I’m patched in, so I take full cut of monthly earnings from Ride. But Ma got Dad’s cut the whole time after he died, until she got hitched to Hound, who’s also a Chaos brother. She set some aside for Jag and me. And when they sold the house we grew up in, they split that in half, and gave it to Jag and me. Though, not right away. She held on to it until we were old enough not to blow through it doin’ stupid shit. But when she did hand it over, it was substantial, and to make it work for me, I invested it.”
“So you’re Wise Biker and Real Estate Mogul Biker?”
He grinned down at her. “Snap’s the mogul. I’m not there yet.”
“You’ve got more than me,” she mumbled.
“Georgie,” he called.
She refocused on him.
And blurted, “I’m thirty-one.”
She said that like it was a dirty little secret.
When she didn’t say more, he prompted, “So?”
“You act older than twenty-eight.”
More prompting from him. “And?”
She was watching him closely when she asked, “Does it bother you that I’m older than you?”
“Did it bother you when you thought I was older than you?”
Her bright smile came back. “So my New-Style American Biker I’m Starting to See is Wise Biker, Budding Mogul Biker and Enlightened Biker.”
He grinned again and gave her another squeeze. “Yeah.”
“Awesome,” she whispered, pressing close.
He was about to kiss her again when they both heard, “Mwrrr!”
She jerked in his hold, looked down and cried dramatically, “Baby!”
Wild Fire: A Chaos Novella Page 8