Because He's Perfect

by Anna Edwards

  Ember saluted her with a two finger movement from his brow to his lips. “Well, from one idiot to another, I bid you both a goodnight. I’ve got a date with a woman who loves how I work.”

  Tymber tugged her behind him, heading toward the back of the shop. “Wait, my car’s out front.”

  “I thought I’d take us on my bike. There’s an overlook that’s near the restaurant that’s pretty amazing.” He halted with his hand on the door leading outside.

  His body was loose, letting her know it was her decision. “I don’t have a helmet.” Why she said that, she didn’t know, but damn, she actually wanted to ride behind him.

  “I’ve got one. And before you say anything, I keep one for when my nieces want a ride.” He pointed toward the wall where one was hanging next to a couple others. “Come on, take a walk on the wild side,” he murmured.

  If only he knew just how wild she’d been. However, that was in the past. She wasn’t going to pass up a chance to be close to Tymber. Hell, he would probably forget all about her if he knew exactly what her involvement with the MC had been. A wild side he said. The man would rethink his words if he’d ever stepped foot inside the clubhouse. Wild didn’t even begin to describe what went down at a party with the MC.

  “Alright, but just to warn you, I will squeeze the life out of you if you do anything dangerous,” she warned.

  Tymber chuckled, making her acutely aware that she hadn’t zipped the jacket over her bra, showing off the fact her nipples were hard.

  Chapter Five

  Tymber tried to keep his gaze from dropping to the hardened nipples pressing against the thin black material, but it was a losing battle. For one, she was one of the sexiest women he’d ever seen. For two, he had his ink on her. All he thought about while he’d been inking her was how fucking sexy she looked, her head pillowed on her jacket while she slept. “You can squeeze me as tightly as you want.” And if that was a double entendre, so be it.

  Her sigh lifted her breasts up, drawing his attention again.

  “I have a feeling anything with you could get twisted into something dirty,” she muttered, but smiled.

  They walked outside, the night still warm and filled with possibilities. He slung his leg over the bike, strapping the skull cap on once he settled. “It’s an art, one I’m a master at.”

  Ivy put the helmet on, showing she’d done it before. He wondered who, what, where and when, but bit his cheek to keep from asking. One day, he hoped to know all her secrets.

  Ivy straddled the bike, her arms coming around him naturally. “Come on then, show me what you can do.”

  The feel of her tiny body snuggling up to his back, the sweet press of her breasts against him, made him aware he was treading on dangerous grounds. One where his heart was laid open. “I’ll keep you safe. Just hold on tight and don’t let go.” The words meaning more than he let on.

  Three weeks later…

  Tymber closed up the shop, his hand reaching for his phone on autopilot. The bells above the door rang, making him glance up to find two members of the bikers’ club standing in his doorway. “Hey, guys, sorry but we’re closed.”

  “Yeah, who’s gonna make us leave?” The two men stood side-by-side, their arms crossed over their chest.

  He held his hands up, not realizing he’d already dialed Ivy’s number. “Are you wanting a tattoo, or what? If it’s cash, well, I’m afraid to say there’s probably less than a hundred in the register since most of our clients pay with cards.”

  No way in hell would he show their appearance shook him.

  “You’re wanted at the clubhouse. You can either follow us on your own bike, or…” the rest of his sentence was left off.

  Tymber eyed the two men. He was sure he could take them both but fucking up the tattoo shop wasn’t on his list of things to do this year, or next. “What’s this about?” he questioned.

  “King will tell you when you get there. You coming on your own, or what?”

  Tymber shrugged. “I’ll follow you. Although I don’t understand what the fuck’s going on, I much prefer to arrive on my own than whatever you had planned.”

  The one who’d done all the talking shoulder bumped the other. “Get his phone. King said he didn’t want the cops involved. This wannabe looks like he might try calling the poe poe. Ain’t that right, tree?”

  At the other man’s jibe, Tymber held his phone out, the screen lighting up with Ivy’s name. He quickly pressed the side, locking his phone so the two men couldn’t go through it. Not that he had anything to hide, but he’d be damned if he allowed them access to his shit.

  By the time he pulled into the gravel lot behind the other two bikes, he was seething. He thought of grabbing the gun he kept in his saddle bag but decided against it. Going into the Royal Sons’ house with a gun was a sure way to get his ass hurt, shot, or killed.

  With ease, he kicked the stand down on his bike, the motorcycle’s rumble stopped as soon as he pushed the button, silencing his ride while the other two did the same. The loud thump of music could be heard from inside the spacious looking building. He didn’t realize the MC had a home as close to his until they’d began riding up and away from town. When they’d pulled into a drive that was almost unnoticeable, he began to worry. Lights up ahead had kept him on the path. They passed a home twice the size of his and another smaller yet still big one, before coming to the huge clearing where another building sat, the lights and sounds inside reminiscent of a bar. Only the line of bikes outside, along with a few other vehicles let him know this was where the club met and hung out.

  Knowing it would do him no good to ask the two jackasses who’d ridden out with him what was up, he walked forward, waiting at the door for one of them to open it. One didn’t just barge into a clubhouse without permission, that he knew from talking to King.

  The door opened, the music blaring interrupted his thoughts. “You three gonna stand out here all night or you coming in?”

  Tymber looked the other man in the eye, uncaring what protocol suggested. This wasn’t the president or the vice president, but his rockers were slightly different than the two other men. Fuck, he swore. They’d sent prospects to get him. Meaning he was screwed. Only he didn’t know what he’d done. The last time he’d saw any of the members had been when King came for his last tattoo. That had been almost a month ago, and in the weeks between, he’d done nothing but work and spend time with Ivy. Damn, he wondered if she was pissed at him for standing her up. Tonight, he’d planned to cook her dinner at his place. He didn’t have any plans past that, other than to go with the flow. Hell, for weeks he’d gone to bed with her name on his lips, her taste in his mouth, yet he still hadn’t pushed their relationship to the next level. Not because his body didn’t ache to fill hers, but for the first time, he wanted to get to know the woman, wanted to build something that was more than sex. Finally, he was sure they had that, with the promise of more. Yet, here he was, being led into the lions’ den like a sheep to the slaughterhouse.

  “Ah, I’m glad you could make it. Did my prospects give you any shit?”

  Tymber barely kept from jumping at the words spoken so close to his ear. He hadn’t even seen the man come up, let alone felt the air stir as he moved into his space. “They were very closed lipped on why I was being summoned up here. No, I take that back. They mentioned something about me not liking it if they had to force me. So here I am, what the fuck’s going on?” He turned, leveling King with his stare.

  King slapped him on the shoulder, then steered them toward the back. People parted for them without being told, giving Tymber an idea of the power this man had. He almost wished he could call back the challenging words.

  “I always did like you, Tymber. First time I met you, I knew you had grit.” King swept his arm out in front of him. “You hungry, thirsty?”

  Women lay on the long tables, their bodies on display with different assortment of food placed strategically on them. He shook his head at the offer. The
only body he wanted to eat off of was Ivy’s.

  “Drink? You know it’s rude not to accept an offer from your host?” King snagged a bottle of beer from one of the buckets on the table between the two women. He then ran the cold bottle up the calf and inner thigh of the one on the left. The redhead closed her eyes, moaning at his actions.

  Tymber didn’t want the bottle that had just been rubbed all over the woman. His hand reached for a bottle, glad when nobody struck out at him. “Thanks,” Tymber said after he downed half the contents of the cold brew.

  “My pleasure. Now, let’s have a seat and talk, shall we?” King made another sweeping motion, getting people to move from their spots, leaving two chairs open plus the one at the head which clearly belonged to the president.

  Tymber sat in one of the chairs, the fine hair on the nape of his neck standing on end. “While I appreciate the hospitality, why don’t you tell me exactly what’s brought me here?” He took another healthy swig from the bottle.

  King tipped his bottle toward him. “You know, I always liked you. You do good work and don’t seem to shake easily. I admire that in a man. Now, I got a question for you, and I want you to think before you answer.”

  Placing the bottle on the table, he waited for King to continue. Fuck, he swore the entire place had gone quiet, yet he could still hear music. “I’m always honest. No reason not to be. Besides, it cuts the bullshit down when you just spit shit out truthfully.”

  “You fucking Ivy, and if so for how long? And, before you think to get stupid, know your answers are very important to your health.” King’s hand flexed and unflexed on the table.

  Shit. Was she one of theirs? He tried to think back to the past few weeks. There’d been no sign of a boyfriend nor did she let on she knew the club when he’d talked about tattooing King that first night. “My first inclination is to tell you it’s none of your business, but I have a feeling that’s not going to go down really well.”

  King nodded. “You’d be right. So, what’s your answers? Do I need to ask the questions again or are you just working up the courage to tell me to my face you been fucking my brother’s old lady?”

  Shock held him immobile for a second. “What the fuck do you mean? Your brothers’ old lady?”

  King motioned to someone behind him, but Tymber kept his eyes on the leader, his next words would be a defining moment in his life.

  “Ivy is my brother Luke’s girl, didn’t you know?”

  “I’m not nor have I ever been any of the club members’ old lady,” Ivy shouted.

  Tymber jumped up, reaching out for Ivy, only to come up short as another member shoved the tip of a knife near his throat. “The Prez ain’t done talking to you,” the guttural words said with such menace, silenced him.

  “Rooster, back the fuck off him with that knife, or so help me I’ll be shoving it so far up your ass the sun will be the last thing you think about,” Ivy warned. Her heart had been racing the entire drive from outside Twisted Ink and didn’t seem ready to slow a bit.

  “Everyone out,” King said, his voice booming above the other sounds.

  It wasn’t a hot night, but she swore her entire body had to be sweating from fear and adrenalin. She kept her eyes on Rooster and his wicked looking knife. The man was a lover of making his point with a blade. She shifted her focus to King, moving forward, her hand brushing Tymber’s. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Alright, now that the only ones here are family.” King nodded, waiting until the entire MC club seemed to surround them.

  Ivy thought they’d be somewhat safe since there were others around who weren’t fully patched members who’d brought their old ladies. She should have known King didn’t play by one set of rules. “King, it’s me you’re mad at. Let Tymber go and I’ll—” she licked her lips before continuing in a firm tone. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me, just don’t fuck with him.”

  King gave a dry chuckle, sitting back down in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Tymber’s arms flexed, showing the muscles and strength he had within him. She didn’t doubt one bit he could take on any member of the Royal MC and probably win. However, he’d be taking on more than just one man.

  “Sit, Ivy. We’ve things to discuss.” King tapped the table, expecting obedience.

  “Look, King, I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but this shit ain’t cool,” Tymber growled.

  Ivy turned to see what Rooster did to Tymber. There were rules in an MC. One of them being respect the President. Tymber’s little outburst could be deemed disrespectful. Her focus was ensnared by the man who she cared too much about. Within the club, the golden rule is that club comes first, loyalty and commitment to the wellbeing of the club is always first priority. This is never to be questioned. After club then comes the brothers and sisters, family, friends, job, personal possessions and even personal safety.

  “Ah, look at that, boys, she’s already replaced my brother,” King said. His voice that deadly quiet.

  She’d only heard him use that tone when he was pissed or discussing club business. The fact he was allowing Tymber to stay while she and he had their talk wasn’t good. Nobody but club members were allowed when discussing anything club related.

  “You know there’s two types of people in the world in my mind. There’s my brothers and sisters, and then there’s those who are a potential threat to our club. Which do you think your friend falls into, Ivy?” King let the silence linger, then he pointed to the chair again. “I suggest you sit down, little girl, unless you want to see my bad side come out.”

  It took her seconds to do as he said, her heart pounded in her chest with fear and anger she was having to go through this. “Why?” she asked.

  King sat back, his arms crossing over his chest, drawing her gaze to the cut he wore and the patch that marked him as President. “Let’s start by discussing why you’ve not answered my calls or texts for the past couple months.”

  She tried to keep her hands from shaking as she placed them on the table. “I…I didn’t know what to say. I think you said it all at—” she swallowed the lump in her throat. “You said enough the last time we spoke. I figured it would be best if I removed myself from, everything.”

  “When we took you in, I promised Luke I’d look out for you. You promised to look out for Luke. Seems we’re not keeping up to our promises. Want to tell me why?”

  “Dammit, what do you want from me?” she cried.

  King sat forward, his face inches from hers. “I want the fucking truth, and I want it now.”

  God, her throat felt dry, the need for liquid courage made her wish she’d gotten a drink before interrupting what was happening. Of course, she probably would’ve thrown it up the way her stomach was cramping. “I met Tymber only a few weeks ago. He’s not part of this.”

  King got in her face, the scent of beer and mint wafted to her as he spoke. “He’s a part of this as long as I say he is. Ain’t that right, Rooster?”

  His words had her swinging her head around. “That’s right. Want me to make him less pretty?” Rooster asked.

  “For fucksake, what did you expect me to do? I didn’t go out looking for a man. Nobody can replace Luke,” she swore.

  “In that you’re correct. Let me tell you a story, shall we?” he continued without waiting for her to respond. “You and my baby brother have been together since before either of you had grown any pubic hair. Now, my brother’s dead because you decided you wanted that pretty boy, Darian. My brother couldn’t handle your cheating on him, so he took the cowards way out.” The last was said in a near yell.

  “That’s not true. King, you have to believe me. Luke was my best friend, my only true friend in the world. I’d never hurt him like that.” She stayed where she was, her face mere inches from a fuming King.

  “I know that, dammit. Now, why don’t you tell me what my brother was too chicken shit to do, and we’ll go from there.”

  Her eyes darted around the ga
thered members, hating the thought of anyone but King and Duke, Luke’s brothers to hear. However, it appeared as though Tymber’s life was on the line. “King, please, tell everyone to clear out first,” she begged, her voice a small whisper.

  “These are our family, Ivy. You are family. Whatever you gotta say, just say it.” King’s hand smacked the table, making her jump back in the seat.

  She looked to Duke, hoping he’d step forward, and do what, she didn’t know, but if there was anything he could do, she wanted him to do it. “Duke, this is your twin brother’s personal business.”

  “You know the rules, Ivy. Tell us, or that one will be sporting a new scar.”

  She heard Tymber grunt seconds after the sound of what had to be another member hitting him. “Fine, you want to know, I’ll tell you. However, you need to know this isn’t something I say lightly. I promised Luke to never…” she broke off, a sob escaping her trembling lips.

  Commotion behind her made her look away from King’s penetrating gaze. The breath froze in her throat while she watched Tymber grab Rooster’s wrist, twisting and turning until he was the one behind the brother, the deadly looking knife placed against Rooster’s throat. “I don’t fucking like to be choked, feel me?” He gave Rooster a little shake, keeping the knife steady without cutting the throat he had it pressed against.

  “Tymber, what’re you gonna do, fight all of us?” King asked.

  Tymber shrugged. “If I gotta, yeah. I’ve faced bigger shit than this.” He gave Rooster a shove.

  “Wait. Just stop everyone. King, you have the power to stop all of this.” She half stood from her seat, halting at King’s glare.

  “I didn’t have the power to protect my baby brother. Let’s cut the shit, and you speak,” he growled, stabbing his finger toward Ivy.

  She licked her lips, her focus bouncing from King to Tymber. “Won’t you let him leave first. This is club business, and he’s not…”