“Get some sleep, pretty girl.”
“Good night, Stryker,” she whispers into the dark.
As she lays in my arms I battle with my mind not to relive the day from hell and the shitstorm about to engulf me when the club figures out our next move. I feel her body relax in my arms as her breathing labors and she falls asleep.
Dangerous territory, soldier. Dangerous territory.
I tell myself to move.
Get out of the bed.
Get away from her.
Instead, I close my eyes and pretend I’m normal.
Instead, I fall asleep with my arms wrapped around my pretty girl
.
-Fifteen-
Stryker
I don’t remember the last time I fell asleep with someone next to me. I forgot what it’s like to wake up and have a beautiful woman’s legs tangled with mine and miles of hair sprawled across my chest. I’ve been running from my own bed and the demons that haunt me for so long I forgot all the good things that make you want to stay in bed all day.
The dark haired beauty rolls off my chest and lies on her side giving me the perfect view of her sleeping face. Reaching out, I trail my index finger down her cheek and lean over to press a kiss to the tip of her nose before slipping out of her bed.
I won’t leave.
Not yet.
I’m fucked in the head but I’m not stupid. Why should I run from her when everything in my body is screaming at me to run straight toward her?
Because she deserves more than great sex and a damaged man.
I drag my naked ass into her bathroom and my eyes drift down to the floor where my clothes lay on the tile in a heap. Bending down, I grab my filthy jeans and pull them up my legs. I don’t bother buttoning my pants and only draw the zipper up as I reach for my shirt that’s covered in black soot and dried blood. I turn on the sink and try to hand wash the dirt from the cotton, realizing that this shirt here is probably my Sunday best. I used to live out of a backpack and my saddlebags so it isn’t much, but all my clothes, every fucking thing I own, even my bike was inside that compound when the bomb went off.
It’s all shit that can be replaced.
Except my flag.
The worn, tattered flag I took back from Afghanistan with me. The cloth that represents a mission failed and brothers lost. The same flag I nailed above my bed the moment I was given a room at the clubhouse.
I needed to find that flag.
I wring out my shirt and lay it over the side of Gina’s bathtub when I hear someone pounding on her front door. Poking my head out of the bathroom door I find Gina still asleep, snoring away.
The asshole on the other end of her door doesn’t care she’s sleeping and the persistent banging grates on my nerves, forcing me to deal with whoever thinks banging on a person’s door at six in the morning is acceptable.
Six in the morning.
Who’s she got coming here at six in the morning?
Swinging open the door, my eyes do a double take when they find a man dressed in an expensive suit staring back at me with an unreadable expression on his face. He sizes me up just as I do the same to him, smirks slightly before rolling his eyes and meeting my glare.
“Christ,” he mutters as he takes a step toward me to enter the apartment. “Where’s Gina?”
I extend my hand and block him from entering.
“Who the fuck are you?” I growl as he glances at my arm and laughs.
“You have two seconds to get out of my way before I remove you myself, biker boy.”
Biker boy.
I’m not wearing anything but my fucking pants and I walked my ass over here last night, there’s no bike parked on the curb giving my shit away so how this motherfucker knows who I am is a mystery. A mystery I’m about to blow wide open.
“Gina!”
“I asked you a fucking question. Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?”
He unbuttons the top button of his dress shirt and rolls his neck from side to side. He reaches behind him for something as he leans forward and puts his mug in my face.
“Shit! Rocco, what the hell are you doing?”
“Tell your boyfriend to back off before I put a fucking bullet between his eyes,” he grunts, as he moves back and brings his arm down.
Instinct guides me and I grab his arm and spin him around putting him in a choke hold as the gun falls to the floor at his feet.
“You sure about that, pretty boy?”
“Stryker! Let go of him,” Gina orders, grabbing me by the belt loops of my jeans. “He’s my brother!”
I glance over my shoulder at Gina, stare into her pleading eyes as she drops her hold on me and tightens the sash of her silk robe
“Please?”
I’m a fucking sucker for her face and I lose my hold on her brother just as he shoves his elbow into my ribs.
“Shit,” I hiss, doubling over. “The fuck!”
“You ever put your fucking hands on me again I’ll fucking put a hole in your head. I don’t care who you fucking ride with or who is riding you,” he threatens, diverting his eyes to his sister. “You sure can pick them, sis.”
“Get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the cops.”
“Cop calling, really?” he questions, looking back at me before he strides his cocky ass over to the couch and makes himself at home. Dropping his ass into the seat he lifts his feet onto the coffee table and spreads his arms wide along the back of the couch.
“Did you know your girlfriend was a snitch?”
“I’m not his girlfriend!”
“Well, thank fuck for that,” Rocco says.
“Are you okay?” Gina asks, closing the door behind me.
“I’m fine,” I say, straightening up and turning my cold eyes onto her brother.
“You really have no idea who I am?”
“Can’t be anyone important,” I counter.
“Parrish breaks my heart,” he says, shaking his head as he leans forward and grabs the remote from the coffee table. He lifts his head and grins at me. “The name Rocco Spinelli, ring any bells?”
Rocco Spinelli.
Spinelli.
I turn my gaze back to Gina and watch as she shuffles from foot to foot uncomfortably.
“Your last name is Spinelli?”
“Something you should’ve found out before you took her to bed, right?” Rocco chimes in.
“Shut up,” Gina sneers before turning her attention back to me. “Yes.”
“Victor Pastore…he’s your uncle?”
“Yes,” Gina admits.
“Good ol’ Uncle Vic,” Rocco sighs. “Your girlfriend isn’t a fan of the family. Which is kind of hypocritical considering she has the likes of you in her bed. Wouldn’t you agree, sis?”
Tearing her eyes away from me, she clenches her fists in her hands and turns her gaze onto her brother.
“Why are you here, Rocco? Why the fuck are you here, huh? What kind of bullshit are you dumping on me today?”
He drops his legs to the floor and stands up.
“I’m here because Johnny called me and told me that a guy with a fucking Satan’s Knights patch is shacked up with my sister after some motherfucker blew their shit up.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and turns his eyes to mine. “I don’t know how you fucking people operate, tried to understand it, but your president gave me the cold shoulder and now, I’ve got to protect my own interests. Even if that means going against my uncle’s wishes and dueling with the boys in leather he respects so much.”
“Slow your roll, buddy. I don’t know jack shit about what you got going on with the club. I’ve been in Ryker’s for eight months.”
“You sure know how to pick them,” Rocco says cheekily to his sister. I avoid looking at her because I’m not prepared to see her reaction to my confession. Despite the connection between us, there is a shit ton of things we don’t know about one another. Like, my stint in jail and how the night I met her was my first night as a
free man. Or that her uncle is the most notorious gangster to ever rule New York City. Let’s not forget about the douchebag in front of me who is now in charge.
My pretty girl with the green eyes is all mobbed up.
Fuck my life.
“Stryker is it?” Rocco questions.
“You did your homework,” I point out, crossing my arms against my bare chest.
“Yeah, you should try it some time,” he replies, waving his hand around the room. “Avoids situations like this.”
“Get to the point, Spinelli,” I tell him, losing my patience with this whole fucking situation.
“Months ago I went to your clubhouse and introduced myself to your president as the boss of Victor’s organization. It was my uncle’s wish that I work with the Satan’s Knights to keep order in our city and to protect the streets that both your club and my family love so much. Vic knew that appointing me head of the family would aggravate his enemies and send them into a rage, but thought with the help of your club we could keep our shit intact. Parrish shut me down, only to show up on my doorstep a couple of nights ago after Vic killed the G-Man in prison. He was worried about a war breaking out on the streets and told me to keep my family protected.” He turns to Gina and points a finger, “He meant Vic’s wife and kids because he doesn’t know Gina even exists, but she’s my family.”
I look over at Gina and watch as she stares blankly at her brother. Gaging her reaction, I guess that this is as much a revelation to her as it is to me, but I don’t harp on it and turn my attention back to the suit in front of me.
“Where you going with this?”
“Parrish is in over his head and if he doesn’t realize that now…now that his club is as dead as the people dragged out of that clubhouse in body bags…well then, he’s going to be fucked because this shit is just getting started.”
“The explosion had nothing to do with the mob,” I argue, unsure if what I’m saying is fact or fiction. There was no time to discuss what happened, but judging by the look on Jack’s face when that cocksucker walked into the Dog Pound, he was no stranger. Jack knew the man responsible and my guess is that if it had anything to do with Pastore’s enemies, Rocco wouldn’t be standing in front of me right now. Blackie would have this motherfucker locked in a basement with a gun pointed between his eyes and a bottle of acid ready to pour over his pretty little head.
“You sure about that?”
“If the Bulldog wanted you to know his business he’d tell you himself,” I answer, looking back to Gina. Pretty green eyes stare back at me and temporarily strike me stupid.
Such a fucking sucker.
“Why you worried about her?” I ask him, but keep my eyes locked with hers.
“If you’re right, and the bomb that went off last night has nothing to do with Victor handing over his empire to me then there is still the threat of the opposing organizations waiting to stomp all over his territory. Not to mention a bunch of fucking gang members sporting tattoos of tear drops under their eyes that now have their panties in a twist because he murdered their leader. You seem smart enough to figure it out. What would you do if I had everything you wanted?”
“I’d kill you.”
“Tough task.”
“Maybe.”
“Try again,” he prompts.
Gina tucks her hair behind her ears and diverts her eyes away from mine for a moment. I silently will them back to mine and when she lifts her head, I see the signs of life I came looking for last night. A vibrant woman, stronger than any I’ve encountered before, full of life and dreams she still wants to chase. A woman who answers to only herself.
A woman who might have a big, fat, fucking target on her pretty little forehead.
“I go after what matters most to you. I make you watch as I destroy her. I dangle her life over your head and force you to give me what I want. I make you believe it’s her only chance at survival but after you hand me over everything…I kill her and I make you watch as I do so.”
I stare at her neck and watch as she struggles to swallow the lump in her throat and the fear she never knew existed. I peel my eyes away from her and lock eyes with Rocco.
“You’re smarter than you look,” he comments, before turning to his sister. “Now do you understand why Johnny is your shadow?”
“Who’s Johnny?”
“Johnny is the man sitting in the black car outside my house,” Gina answers, drawing out a frustrated sigh.
“Call him off her,” I tell Rocco, keeping my gaze focused on her. I watch as she lifts her wide eyes and then narrows them in confusion. “Five facts. You hate having someone follow you. You hate not being in control of your life, and having this Johnny guy hanging around you cramps the whole independent thing you got going,” I say, as she crosses her arms stubbornly against her chest. “But you do need someone watching over you. Someone’s gotta keep those pretty eyes full of life.”
I close the distance between us, cup her chin with my hand and stare at her silently for a moment. Battling with my conscience, telling myself the words that come next are not because I’m the fixing type. She isn’t broken and I’m just doing her a favor.
“You got a choice to make, Gina.”
I leave out the fact that I already made it for her.
“It’s either the suit sticking to you like glue or me, and you doing this our way. I’m a drifter, always moving from one place to another and you’re a woman who needs her space. We can make this work. I’ll teach you how to stay alert, and as long as you do that, as long as those eyes are always open and you learn to listen to your instincts then I’ll give you your space. We’ll take your brother to the cleaners and make him pay for one of those fancy security systems and I’ll check on you daily.”
She uncrosses her arms and lets them fall to her sides as she sucks in her lower lip and continues to stare back at me. Her gaze softens and her armor slips from her.
“Make that nightly checks,” I state, winking at her.
“You want to be my bodyguard?” she whispers the question as I let my gaze wander over her body.
“Fuck yes,” I tease, bringing up my other hand to her face and cradling her cheeks. “What do you say; we kick this Johnny character to the curb?”
“Okay,” she agrees, wrapping her hands around my wrists.
“You realize he’s a criminal too, right?” Rocco says from behind me.
“Shut it, pretty boy,” I growl, before leaning down and capturing her pouty lips with mine. Not giving a fuck that her brother is there or that I just fucking did what I swore I’d never do.
I guess old habits die hard.
Let’s just hope this time I get it right.
Should she need someone to save her, let’s hope I’m the man who can.
-Sixteen-
Gina
Coffee.
I need a fucking vat of coffee to make it through the rest of this day.
Not giving a flying fuck if they kill one another, I leave the two criminals in the living room to duke it out over who has a bigger rap sheet and head straight for my Keurig. They can pull out their dicks and measure them against the wall for all I care—I’ve had enough of the A&E documentary my life has become.
What happened to the normal dating scene? Where a relationship progresses over candlelit dinners, great sex and nights spent watching movies on the couch. Not where the guy you’ve technically never even been on a date with decides he’s going to be your bodyguard because your brother wants to play Al Capone.
Rocco leaves, slamming the door behind him as I take two mugs out of cabinet and fill them with coffee. Turning around, I push one mug across the breakfast nook and lift my gaze to criminal number one.
“So that just happened,” I say, bringing the mug to my lips. “Great way to start the day.”
“I disagree. My day started pretty fucking good since I woke up with you all over me,” he replies, taking the cup I offered him. “Then your brother showed up, and I th
ought he was your boyfriend.”
“Well, you think very highly of me,” I mutter, setting my mug on the counter before bracing my hands against the granite.
“C’mon, that’s not what I meant,” he argues, flashing me a smile. “We don’t know each other very well.”
“Well, that’s about to change isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is. It also seems like you were right about meeting that night in the restaurant. Looks to me like you and I were at the right place at exactly the right time,” he points out, raising an eyebrow.
“Watch it, Stryker…you’re starting to sound like a hopeless romantic,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes for good measure. I nearly spit my coffee out when his eyebrows shoot up to the top of his bald head.
“Relax, Romeo. I don’t fall easily,” I assure him, crossing my arms against my chest as I chew on my lip and watch him sigh in relief.
Men are such pussies when it comes to love.
And the ones who aren’t are the ones a girl like me never finds.
“How’s this going to work? If you plan on moving in with me I’m telling you now, I’m not giving up my closet space,” I warn.
“Not a problem, all my shit blew up yesterday remember?”
I wince.
“Sorry that was insensitive of me,” I reply.
He shakes his head as he sets the coffee mug on the counter but continues to hold onto it.
“I’m not moving in, pretty girl. The clubhouse might be in ruins but my home is with my brothers, with my club. Where that is? I’m not sure yet,” he says, then pauses for a moment and rubs his free hand over his head. “Do you have work today?”
“It’s Sunday,” I tell him.
“Okay, so then tomorrow we’ll start a routine. I’ll take you to work in the morning, check out the area so I know your surroundings and when you’re done, I’ll pick you up. I should have a phone by the end of the day so if you need me during work hours I’ll just be a phone call away. I’m going to need your brother’s number too, in case of anything.”
“You have it all figured out,” I reply, not even bothering to hide the surprise in my voice.
The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition Page 13
