She slips her shoes off at the door and hooks them over her fingers before stepping onto the plush carpet of the living room. I close the door, locking the deadbolt as she drops her bag on the table. When I turn around she’s staring at me. “Why are you here?”
“I already told you.” I tug the laces of my boots loose and kick them off on the tile just inside the door. She watches me, her brow furrowed in what looks like disbelief as I walk to her couch and sit down, leaning back into the soft cushions like I belong here because for now, I do.
Her apartment is nice. Clean. Well-organized. All her shit matches.
And it smells good. Like she just baked fucking cookies in the oven.
It feels like a home.
I’ve never lived in a place like this. I never will live in a place like this and I’m going to enjoy it while I can.
“You haven’t told me anything.” Kerri juts her hip out and fists her hand against it. “All you’ve done is show up and be a pain in my ass for no reason other than my father told you to.”
“I did tell you, Princess.” I drag the last word out to piss her off because I like it when she’s mad. I stand up and walk toward her. “In the bathroom.” I stop just in front of her. “Right before I made you come.”
I see the heat flash across her eyes and it brings me an inordinate amount of satisfaction. Kerri liked what I did to her. Still likes the thought of it even though she doesn’t want to.
“Why do you keep bringing that up?” Her voice is missing the edge it had a minute ago and a pink flush creeps up her neck.
I ease a little closer. She doesn’t back up. “It’s a fond memory.” I breathe in the air around her. Spring. Fresh air and flowers. It soothes me in a way I don’t want to think about so I decide to answer her question without making her ask again. As a show of good faith. “You are right. Your daddy sent me here.”
“Why?”
Kerri still hasn’t backed up so I press closer. Our bodies are almost touching now and my fingers twitch with the need to feel the soft curve of her hip in my grip. To add heft to the words I’m about to say. “To protect you.”
Her eyes drop to my mouth for just a second. She licks her lips. “From?”
“King tried to take over a territory that didn’t belong to...” I hesitate to use the word us. I’m a part of the club her daddy presides over but it isn’t as comfortable of a fit as it used to be. I don’t agree with the risks he’s taking and I was mad as fuck he sent me away to babysit his daughter at a time like this.
I’m not as mad about that at this moment.
And that’s why I’m struggling to tie myself to the man she clearly despises. I settle on the collective. “The Knights.”
I keep going with my explanation. Maybe if Kerri understands what’s going on it will make this whole situation go a hell of a lot smoother. “The club the territory belonged to has a problem with what happened and threatened to come after you and your momma.”
The smooth set of her jaw softens. “Is my mom okay?”
I nod and file the bit of information she gave me away. Kerri might hate her daddy but her momma’s a whole different story. “She’s fine and she’ll stay fine.”
Kerri takes a long slow breath and blows it out. “I don’t understand how this is happening.” She turns and walks down the hallway, disappearing into her bedroom. “It’s not like they know where I live.”
“They’ll find you. You know that.” I listen as fabric rustles in the room a few steps away. I can imagine the reflection of her body in the full length mirrors on the closet doors as she shucks her work clothes.
I shove my hand down my pants and adjust my stiff shaft. Why couldn’t she be ugly? Or a prude?
That’s the problem. One of many actually. After seeing the heat in her eyes when I brought up our time together Saturday night I know I can touch her again if I play my cards right. Which I will.
Kerri steps into the hall.
Fuck me.
I don’t have to imagine her body anymore.
She’s wearing just her panties and bra. They’re pale pink lace. I don’t even pretend not to look. I drink her in, letting my eyes slowly work their way down her frame. If she’s going to put it out there I’m going to take it. Kerri’s magnificent. Her hips and breasts are full and lush with a delicate curve pulling in at her waist.
“So you’re here in case they find me?” She stands there like it’s no big deal but I can tell by the jut of her chin this is a challenge. Or punishment.
Or both.
“That’s right.”
“And what are you supposed to do if they find me?” She pulls at the tight knot at the back of her head, working it loose until her long blonde hair drops loose around her shoulders.
“I’ll protect you.” I breathe deep and slow as I watch every move she makes, committing it all to memory because that’s all I’ll have to take with me when I go. I bet her hair smells as good as the rest of her does. I let her tease me a minute more, watching as she runs her fingers through the loose waves, her lips parting as she does.
Then I turn and walk away.
The sooner Kerri figures out I’m not like the men she’s used to the better it will be for both of us. I’m not the kind of man she can tease without consequences.
I’m not playing this game with her.
When I turn she’s gone. A second later she’s back, wearing a bath robe and carrying a pillow and a blanket. She throws them at me. “Then I guess you better get to your post.” She opens the door and nods her head for me to leave.
“You want me to sleep in your car?” I look out at the small two-door. There’s no way.
She smiles sweetly, tipping her head to one side. “No. Of course not. That would be ridiculous.”
I’m a little relieved. But only for a second.
“My car’s at Shelly’s apartment, remember?” Then she plants her palm in the middle of my chest and shoves me onto the stoop, closing the door in my face.
I stand there, dumbfounded.
The door opens and my boots drop at my feet before it closes again.
And locks.
Not that it matters. I have a key. I could use it. But something tells me that is exactly what Kerri wants. Push back. A reason to hate me as much as she hates her father.
So I wad up the blanket as I shove my feet into my boots. I glare at Shelly’s car. No way am I sleeping in that fucking thing. I pull out my phone and call for backup.
Butch shows up fifteen minutes later on his bike. The sound of the Harley’s engine rumbling loud and distinct in front of Kerri’s apartment brings me a deep sense of satisfaction because with as much as she hates her daddy I can imagine this is one of her least favorite sounds in the world. If she wants to play, I’m going to use my own set of rules.
The door next to hers flies open and a shriveled old woman stands in her house coat glaring at me and Butch. Looks like Kerri’s not the only one who doesn’t appreciate the sound of a Harley.
“What in the fuck is wrong with you boys?” She turns her hard blue eyes on Butch. “Shut that fucking thing off.”
I toss him the spare to Kerri’s car to get him out of here. As the sound of his bike dies down I turn to Kerri’s neighbor. I give her the smile I know melts panties like butter. “Sorry to disturb you, miss.”
Her hand flutters to her chest. “Well, I suppose it’s all right.” She looks me up and down as the other hand smoothes over the tight curls of her white hair. “Where did you come from, handsome?”
I nod to the door next to her. “I’m a friend of Kerri’s.”
“Kerri’s a lucky girl.” She holds one hand out. “I’m Violet.”
I pull her hand to my lips and drop a kiss on the thin skin covering her knuckles. Women love the chivalry shit, especially from someone who looks like me. It’s like the perfect sweet and salty snack. “I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, Violet.”
She blushes. “I hope so...”
Violet’s drawn on brows come together. “What was your name?”
I pause. Torn between who I am and who King tells me to be. It’s exhausting. Like trying to force your body into a pair of pants that used to fit perfectly but now only chafe, squeezing the life out of you because you’ve outgrown them to the point there’s no way to force yourself to fit inside the seams anymore.
“Evan.” It comes out easy. Too easy. “My name’s Evan.”
Violet works her jaw like she’s mulling it over. She gives me a sharp nod. “It’s a good name for a handsome boy.” She pats my cheek and gives me a quick smile then pulls her hand away to point in the direction Butch just drove off on his hog. “Just don’t interrupt my soaps with that bullshit and we’ll get along fine.”
I chuckle. “I will do my best.”
She gives me one last look before turning to her door. I watch Violet go back inside and listen to make sure she locks the deadbolt. As I turn to sit on the stoop and wait for Butch to return with the car I catch the rustle of blinds in Kerri’s front window. I smile as I drop to my ass on the cement and lean back against the door. Princess is in for a rude awakening if she thinks sleeping in a car is the worst she can do to me.
Spending the night in a car is nothing when you’ve slept on the streets.
Now, making me sleep beside her naked without touching her?
That would be a fucking nightmare.
Hopefully Kerri’s not that creative.
Wait.
Maybe I take that back.
4
“I WILL FIGURE something out.” I tuck my cell phone between my shoulder and cheek as I stuff the hem of my blouse into the fitted waistband of my favorite navy blue pencil skirt. “Don’t worry.”
Shelly sighs into the phone. “Let’s just reschedule. Wait until the situation is gone.”
That’s what we’ve been calling him. The situation.
“I can handle him.” I slide on my pumps and check in the mirror on my closet door to make sure everything is in its place. “Just trust me. I promise I know how to handle this guy.”
That was a complete lie. I had no idea how in the hell to handle Tracker.
Evan.
I shouldn’t call him that. It makes me want to think of him as something he’s not instead of what he is.
One of my father’s men.
A biker.
An outlaw biker. The kind who likes to call the shots and run the show.
I run my own damn show.
“Well, if you can’t make it I’ll understand.” I can hear the disappointment in Shelly’s voice.
Today is my best friend’s birthday and I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss it because Ev— Tracker says I can’t go out alone. He doesn’t think it’s safe and I’m sure as hell not taking him so that leaves me one option.
Make sure he doesn’t notice I’m gone.
“I will make it and it will be awesome.” I grab my work bag off the table and flip off the lights in my apartment. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.” I almost hang up. “Wait.” I stop and smile into the phone. “Happy birthday, Friend.”
Shelly laughs. “Thank you. See ya.”
Shelly has been my best friend since I met her in grad school. By then I was far enough away from the life I used to live that it was easier to talk about. She knows everything about me. What my father is. How he treated me like the son who probably would have appreciated the name Kerosene. Taking me under his wing and teaching me about life in the club. How to survive and run with the roughest crowd there is.
Then I grew tits and an attitude. After that I was useless to him. Unless of course I wanted to marry one of his men and learn how to be a proper kept woman. A shell with no opinion. No desires outside of serving her man and shutting her mouth.
Puke.
I’m sure I was one hell of an embarrassment to him. I’m sure it made The Knights question him as their leader when I took off. If a man can’t control a teenager then what business does he have running a club?
I would argue King has no business running anything.
I shove my phone in my work bag and hurry to the front door. The call with Shelly put me behind this morning but I wanted to be sure she knows tonight nothing is going to stop us from celebrating. Including the dark-haired hazel-eyed biker who is seriously cramping my style.
I unlock the door and yank it open. Tracker is leaned against the bricks just outside scrolling through his phone.
“Morning, Princess.”
He looks remarkably good for a man who has slept in my car two nights in a row. His fitted dark red t-shirt is smooth and wrinkle free, stretching a little too easy over his chest, hugging an obviously well-defined body. The dark colors of the tattoos covering the entirety of his left arm and potentially much more make him look more than a little dangerous.
And he probably is or he wouldn’t be here.
It makes my stomach clench and my nipples pucker to think of what Tracker’s capable of. Between the strength his body shows and the sureness in how he carries himself I would put my money on him in any fight.
Unless it’s with me.
I stomp across the blacktop toward my car, pissed at the way my body reacts to him. “I said don’t call me Princess.”
His voice is closer than I expect. “Then what would you like me to call you?” Tracker opens the car door for me and waits while I slide into the passenger seat of my car. I have no idea how he got it here. All I know is yesterday morning Shelly had her car back and I had mine.
I gaze up at him and smile. “Ms. Wallace.”
He laughs. “Watch your toes, Princess.” He shuts the door.
I wait until he’s buckled in before I turn to face him. “I’m beginning to think maybe my father sent you here to torment me as punishment for not staying under his rule.”
He turns to me slowly. “Your torment is your own fault, Princess.”
“How in the hell is it my fault?”
He leans across the console. Close enough I can tell he doesn’t just look good, he smells good too. “You’d be a whole lot less tormented if you let me in your apartment at night.” His voice is low and rich. Deep and smoky.
Admitting there is something about this man that makes me want to peel off my clothes and let him have his way with me is not something I’m willing to do. But his suggestion works toward a goal I am willing to admit to.
Going out tonight.Unchaperoned.
I settle back in my seat and pretend to be considering his suggestion. I’d already decided Tracker would be staying in my apartment tonight. He’ll be staying there alone though. “I’ll think about it.”
He leans back into his seat but his eyes never leave me. They slide over my body just like they did in the hallway when I paraded in front of him in my underwear hoping to inflict an epic case of blueballs.
I swear that was my plan.
Along with sending him to spend the night in the car with an ache of rejection in his pants. Suffering.
I realize it wasn’t a perfect plan of course. It created a minor inconvenience at best. One he could easily take on himself. A quick pump of his fist and poof. No more blue balls.
Heat collects between my thighs at the thought of Evan in the car, my car, stroking his dick while he thinks of me, head back, eyes closed until he spills into his hand imagining it’s my pussy he’s filling with his come.
“Jesus Christ.”
Tracker’s eyes snap to me. “What’s wrong?”
I prop one elbow on the door and lean into my hand. “Nothing.”
Everything.
I should never have let him touch me. If I hadn’t pushed him into that bathroom I would never have known how he kissed. I wouldn’t be struggling to forget what he did to me with his fingers and left wondering what Evan could accomplish with the rest of his body. It’s all I can think about and now I’m even more sexually frustrated then I was before.
Which is what got me into this mess in t
he first place. It’s why all my plans involving Tracker have more to do with how to get him closer to me than making him go back to where he came from which is what I should want. It’s what I say I want.
But what I really want is becoming problematic. It’s making me crazy.
And I’ve worked too hard to prove I’m not crazy.
But I’m not making any more mistakes. I’m going to do what needs to be done and deal with ‘the situation’. Tonight I am going out, having fun, and pretending my father and Tracker don’t exist.
Or at least half of those things.
Tracker pulls into my spot in the faculty lot at the back of the university. He turns to study me, his brows pushed together over the dark black of his sunglass. “What do you teach?”
“Math.” I unlock my seatbelt. He’s still staring at me.
“What sort of math?”
“The kind with numbers.” I grab my bag and move to open the door but he’s out his side and clicking the fob to keep me in the car until he reaches my side. He does it every damn time and I’d be lying if I said I hated it.
I wish I could find something I hated about him.
Besides that he’s a Knight.
He opens my door and eyes me thoughtfully. “Numbers.”
“That’s what I said.” I climb out of my seat and straighten my skirt. “And yes there is math without numbers.”
“I know that.” He shuts the door behind me as I stare at him.
I think he’s serious.
Tracker holds one arm toward the building, motioning for me to lead the way. I want to ask if he really knew there was math without numbers but that’s a slippery slope I don’t want to end up at the bottom of. It’s one thing to find a man physically fascinating.
Thinking of him as more than a lean, well-put together body is another.
I walk to the entrance. “What are your plans for the day?”
“Same as every other day.” He matches my stride, managing to make his steps easy and effortless even though his legs are significantly longer than mine. “Keep you safe.”
“I’m sure it will be an uneventful day then.”
Tracking Numbers: A Bad Boy Protector Romance (Lost Boys Book 1) Page 3
