Forbidden Protector Page 7
“Hang on,” Hayes growled. He stepped away, his gaze seesawing up and to the side, the way he did when he was thinking hard. “Fine.”
Mom was shaking her head. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
I shrugged. “Neither do I. But it’s the best option we’ve got.”
Hayes had a funny look on his face.
“What?” I asked.
“Just” – he pursed his lips – “Keep your eyes open and your head on a swivel. I’ll kill you myself if you get shot over a stuffed fucking rabbit.”
“Don’t worry, he’s got me,” Chance reminded him.
Odd, how my heart seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. Security meet danger.
Hayes’ side-smirk couldn’t decide whether to be amused or scornful as he surveyed Chance. “You’ve got a death wish too?”
“Yeah – just not mine.” Chance lifted his chin.
“Hayes, you do know I’m going to go.” I glared at him. “Whether you let me or not.”
“Not if I duct-tape you to this swivel chair.” He indicated an armrest missing blue seat, where Annie was currently being spun by two Twisted Souls in an attempt to cheer her, although her tears were still falling freely.
I glared at him harder. Bluff. Unworthy of response.
He leaned so that his one hand was on the swivel chair, stopping its rotations. “I do have experience in that, or have you forgotten?”
“How could I?” I grumbled. “You mummified me onto that freaking chair for a good hour until Mom finally got back and rescued me.”
Hayes was all smiles. “Ah yes, the good old days.”
I had a smile too. “The only good thing was when Mom grounded you for a month afterwards.”
And just like that, the smile was wiped clean off Hayes’ face. Ha.
“I’ll come too.” Mom stepped forward; her wrinkles constricted with a just-you-try-to-stop-me look.
But Hayes had on his battle face too. “Oh no, you don’t. Connie can at least throw a punch, what are you gonna do if the Kings attack, Mom-stare them to death?”
I resisted the urge to crack up, even though I had seen Mom stare shake many a burly biker in their boots.
Mom was bristling. “I’ll have you know –”
I patted Mom gently, tipped my head Annie’s way. “He’s right. It’s better if you stay here with Annie, keep her happy and distracted. Even if she has a flock of admirers already.”
I chuckled. In a few minutes, Annie had already made it halfway across the room. There, beside some vintage boom box, my daughter and a bunch of big bearded bikers were doing the Macarena.
Mom nodded, cowed. “That’s Annie, brings out the best in everyone.”
“Right so let’s get this show on the road.”
Hayes shot one last pointed gaze at Chance, that could’ve meant anything:
Keep my sister safe.
Don’t fuck this up.
Don’t fuck my sister.
Shit.
Hayes had no idea how attracted I was to Chance, right?
But then Hayes winked, and put on his Very Serious face.
“You run into any trouble, and I mean any at all, you call me. You decide to make an unplanned Quarter Pounder pit stop at McDonald’s, you call me. You see a car that’s been behind you for more than five minutes, you call me.”
“So,” Chance summed up. “Call you?”
“Actually, yeah, good idea.” Hayes dark look brightened as he bobbed his head. “Just call me fifteen minutes from now, give me an update.”
“Will do.”
We were halfway out the door, when Hayes added, “For the love of Christ, Connie, will you be careful?”
I rolled my eyes, then tossed him a wink. “C is for Careful Connie.”
Chance and I chuckled as we made our way across the parking lot. I felt eyes trickle along my back, but that wasn’t anything to be worried about. Doubtless that Hayes had instructed at least ten or so Souls to watch our backs in the parking lot.
We got into an old pickup truck, Chance turned on the ignition, I told him my address, and it hit me.
I was alone with Hot Bouncer. And yes, after what he’d offered, I was more attracted to him than ever.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.
He kept his eyes on the road. “Are you?”
“Yes,” I said. “My brother is over-exaggerating. The Kings are dangerous and vicious, but they aren’t the fucking CIA. They don’t have eyes everyone. They’re just a bunch of schoolyard bullies who found each other, formed a gang, and learned how to shoot guns without accidentally shooting themselves in the face.”
Chance smirked. His eyes were still hard. “Your brother’s a smart man. Better to be too careful than not careful enough. A lot of other gang leaders make that mistake.”
Hot Bouncer is Good Cop, a former cop, right.
“Do you miss it?” I asked.
But Chance didn’t seem to have heard me and turned on the radio.
“Mind if I choose?” My hand was already inching toward the dial. Probably it was nerves, but I needed to hear some of my tunes.
Chance shrugged. “I like this station, but sure. Give it a go.”
I shook my head firmly. “Trust me. I can get us something better than the Beatles.”
Chance said nothing until I finally found the station I was looking for and right then, just my luck, Iron Maiden’s ‘The Trooper’ was blaring out the speakers. Adrenaline pumped out of the radio speakers on the dash, straight into me.
Yeah, we were on a mission for Annie. We could do this. I could.
Chance snorted. “You killed the Beatles for this?”
I glared at him. “Yeah, I did.”
“Alright then.”
“Whoa, sorry music snob.”
“You’re the one who changed the station.”
I turned off the radio and the silence was deafening.
Maybe I was wrong about Chance. Maybe he was just a music-stupid asshole. Then again, the only thing I’d known about him before was that he was new, hot, and a former cop.
“So, do you miss it?” I asked him, “Being a cop?”
Even if he was an ass, I was still curious. People didn’t usually quit the force and become a bouncer. Not exactly people’s dream career trajectory.
Even Hayes didn’t know shit about it, and he was a nosy prier.
Chance still hadn’t said anything. But there was no way he hadn’t heard me this time.
“Of course I do,” he finally said. “Every day. I miss the danger and the unexpected and the adrenaline. I miss every day feeling like I made a difference, no matter how small. I miss…” He trailed off. “I don’t like talking about it. Important thing to know is, I’ve got the skills necessary to protect you today.”
“Great,” I said simply.
Fuck him if he thought I couldn’t handle myself.
Ok, maybe me being able to throw a good punch or kick didn’t make me equipped to handle one on one combat with the Kings.
Gun versus fist equals bye bye. Unless you were James Bond or Lara Croft or something.
He’s helping you, I reminded myself.
An image of Chance in a tight half done-up cop uniform flashed in my mind and heat erupted between my legs.
I swallowed.
This trip might not have been a good idea.
12
Chance
Don’t look at her.
I’d said it to myself so many times since I got in my car, it had become some sort of dumb mantra.
But it needed repeating. Even though Connie was clearly a smartass, even though she had her music all wrong, I still couldn’t stop my eyes from going to her way more than they should’ve.
Fuck, I was getting hard too.
But we were almost there now, and I could feel her eyes on me anyway.
Only after I’d pulled in the house’s driveway, did I glance her way.
Fuck, was she
trying to make this near-impossible for me?
Those slightly glazed eyes, slightly parted lips. Yeah, I knew what the fuck that look meant.
You – me – now.
“This it?” I asked gruffly.
She came to, irritated. “Yep.”
Not my fault she was looking at me like she could suck my dick on the spot.
I cranked open my door, stepped outside, and took a much-needed swallow of fresh air.
I just needed to get my head in the game, was all. We were there for Connie’s daughter, Annie. To get Jamjam, some stuffed rabbit that was around here somewhere. And to not get killed or injured by any Devil Kings, of course.
That, I could do.
Anything else, though…
Don’t go there.
I peeled my gaze off Connie’s ample ass to her neighbor’s lawns. They were interesting.
One was a cautionary tale of not using pesticide – weeds splaying everywhere; another an ode to minimalism, with most of it carpeted with old torn-up newspapers, random vending machine toys, Coke cans and other useless crap.
The front of the houses, all the same whatever-white clapboard, weren’t exactly jaw-dropping either.
Then again, being a single mom couldn’t be easy.
“Here it is, home sweet home,” Connie said as she opened the front door.
Whoa.
I stood there for a good few seconds, having to resist the urge to actually rub my eyes at what I was seeing.
That was the outside, and this was the inside?
The inside looked like it belonged to a different house. A different person, really. The blue and white décor was tasteful, damned attractive. But not over-the-top, how some places are. So sickeningly neat and tidy you had to suspect Martha Stewart was crouched under some couch somewhere, rubbing her hands together in glee.
Nah, this was nice. This was a real home.
“Be right back.” Connie was already halfway up the stairs.
There were signs of the Twisted Souls too; a black and red tie-dye TS-emblazoned bandana on some magnets in the kitchen, a mini motorcycle toaster.
No motorcycle through the wall, though. I made a mental note to ask Connie or one of the boys about that later. Had to be a good story behind it.
“Got it!” Connie bobbed down the stairs, then paused. “What?”
“Just… this place is nice. Not what I expected.”
“You expected a dump?” She had a hand on her hip already.
“Forget it.”
“No,” she insisted. “Tell me.”
I studied her for a few seconds. “Just because we don’t agree on music, doesn’t mean we have to be enemies.”
Her face softened. “Sorry, I just.” She bit her lip. “But still, what did you mean?”
I swung a hand at the outside. “That doesn’t usually lead up to this.”
The hint of a smile played at the corners of her plump lips. “God, yeah, I know. The neighborhood’s as shit as you get here in Pembrooke. But rent is cheap, no one bothers trying to rob anyone, and it’s not actually unsafe, so…”
I nodded. “Smart.”
“Thanks.” She was trying not to smile. “We better get going.”
Being there made her uncomfortable. Being there with me.
Her bed – her, me.
I turned to the door, but my gaze caught on something first. A framed picture with a sketch of some classy-looking building with the sign ‘Annie’s’ on top.
I turned to her. “Restaurant?”
Now she definitely had a funny look on her face. “Yeah, it’s… it’s stupid. We better get going.”
She bustled out the door before I could say another word.
We’d driven for a few minutes in silence, when I remembered.
“Forgot to call Hayes, shit.”
When I did call him up, he claimed outrage saying “I’d already called up three different McDonald’s in a two-mile radius, do you know how long it took me to get them to understand that I didn’t want McNuggets or a Happy Meal or some shit, that I just wanted to know if my goddamn sister and bouncer were idiotic enough to stop there?”, although I could tell he was really just relieved. Connie told him to pipe down, that we’d be there in five, then hung up.
“Ah, brothers,” she said.
I said nothing. I’d never had brothers, or siblings, for that matter. I’d wanted them, but it hadn’t worked out that way.
“That picture you saw, it’s a sketch,” Connie admitted out of the blue. “For an idea I have – a dream, more like. One day, I’d love to open a restaurant, some classy-cool place. Nice food, welcoming atmosphere. It’s just a silly dream, though.”
“Didn’t look like a silly dream.”
This girl kept surprising me.
As spunky as she was, I had to admit, I found the aspiration pretty hot.
I wondered what that spunk was like in the bedroom.
“Well?” Connie was saying now, clearly noticing the look on my face.
I lifted a shoulder. “You’re just not the typical club girl, is all. One of the ones who lives there, works there, breathes there – even though your brother is the President.”
“I’m not a club girl, period,” Connie said. “Just because I work there…” She exhaled. “Forget it, I’m just being a grumpy bitch. I get why you’d think that.”
“But I was wrong.”
She smiled a little. “Yeah, you are. Not to say that there wasn’t a time where I tried that out, making everything about the TS, hanging out with my brother and the club every weekend. But it wasn’t for me. I love them to death, I really do. But I want more.”
The reply came out of me before I could stop it. “Well, if you apply the same energy to your business plan that you did when you kicked that guy’s ass at the bar, then I’m sure you’ll be a success.”
Silence.
As Connie outright beamed, all I could think wa,: What in the fuck.
What was I, her personal rah-rah cheerleader now?
I grabbed the Toblerone package I had stashed in the cup holder, threw one in my mouth and chomped down to distract myself, but it didn’t help much.
We spent the rest of the drive in silence.
13
Connie
“Heads up, cucumber coming through!” Val yelled, letting the green vegetable fly.
I cracked up with everyone else, even as I shook my head and continued stirring the three-bean chili she and I were manning. “As a mother, I have to tell you, this is not going to end well.”
Val gestured to Malory, who had caught the cucumber as easily as the others. “C’mon, we’re naturals. No one’s been impaled yet.”
“Hey Mal,” she called over to Malory with a significant raise of her dark penciled brows, “remind you of Abe?”
More chortling, and I elbowed Val. “They just started going out.”
“You mean spending every night together, making such a racket that Abe’s roommate goes to the bar now to drown his sorrows.” Val was smirking, as she called over. “Ain’t that right?”
Malory was giggling like a schoolgirl. “Y’all should see him in bed – a big man as that, he’s as lively as a leprechaun!”
“Can’t say I ever fantasized about fucking a leprechaun,” I commented.
“To each their own,” Val agreed with a shrug. Her gaze went my way and became shrewd. “Speaking of, how was your tumble with Hot Bouncer back at your place?”
“Val!” I hissed.
I threw a look around. Luckily, Hayes wasn’t where he was earlier, within earshot playing Hungry Hungry Hippos against Annie with all the seriousness of a White House staff meeting.
No, he was nowhere to be seen. Which suited me just fine, for now at least.
Val threw a hand to her chest in mock-repentance. “Sorry, forgot about the whole CFL thing.”
“Screw you.” I smiled grudgingly.
“Honeymoon’s over already?”
“N
o, I…” I trailed off, my attention shifting to the chili I was stirring. And stirring and stirring.
Val waved a hand in front of my face. “Hellooo? Earth to Connie?”
“Whoops, I zoned out,” I said.
“No shit. Seriously though, you’re not going to give me anything?”
“No,” I said. Although that was all I could think of saying. I sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know what to make of him. Not that it even matters, really. Of course he’s hot, but I’m a single mom, Val. I have to concentrate on what matters. I can’t go screwing every hot guy that I come across.”
Val held up a finger. “May I remind you – you’ve been screwing no hot guy you’ve come across lately.” She turned it to form a circle. “Exactly zero.”
“C’mon, you have to admit that I have a point.”
But my friend just shook her head. “All that I have to admit is that your dusty old hoo-ha should be a priority, before you forget how to use it.”
“Hoo-ha, what are you – seventy-seven?” I quipped, as we heehawed like wicked old grannies.
I took the opportunity to change the subject. “Anyway, how’d your anniversary go?”
Val’s penciled eyebrows jumped, and she snatched the chili spoon out of my hand. “Well, let me tell you.” She began stirring in frantic counter-clockwise circles as she nattered on, “So, all week Walter wouldn’t shut up about this big big big big surprise. Anyway, big day comes and he gets all weird, ends up driving me to the middle of some hokey forest I’ve never heard of. My first thought is, this fucker forgot, so is just trying some weird-ass different thing to convince me he got creative. I was about to yell at the sap when we got lost but then, lo and behold, we come on this little wee wooden cabin. All set up for a romantic dinner and night!”
If I had been holding anything, I would’ve dropped it. “What?”
“I know, right?” Val was grinning so big I could see the pink line of gum above her teeth. “Apparently, he called his cousin Frederick, who suggested it. But who woulda thought – me, Val McGinnis in a fucking fancy-ass candlelight dinner cabin!”
As we grinned at each other, Val’s smile rapidly diminished. “Shit, I really am a shit.”