We’re quiet for a few minutes and she seems to shake off the seriousness of our conversation. She pokes a finger in my side. “So, your ex is pretty.”
At first I’m thrown by the change in conversation. Ex-who? What?
“Did you love her?” she asks.
Linda, right. Yeah, because the metal stabbing through my finger wasn’t enough of a pain. I needed to run into my ex to really cap off the evening. I don’t know what I did to piss off the universe today, but Karma sure did have fun kicking my ass. “I cared about her,” I finally answer.
“She’s obviously still interested in you.”
“I’m not interested in her,” I answer quietly.
Her mouth opens as if she wants to ask more questions, but instead she tilts her head toward the truck. “Let’s get you home and get some Advil in you. That anesthesia will start to wear off any second now.”
“It already is.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because you’re more important.”
She leans up and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
For the first time in days, a sense of accomplishment fills me as I leave my support group. I wish I felt as confident about the prescription rattling at the bottom of my purse. Encouraged by Liam’s story and our talk last night, I gave in and let the psychiatrist my therapist works with write me a script for an antidepressant.
The support group gives me hope. Sure, the stories of the other women are different from mine. Lots of them have children to provide for. Many of them don’t have friends or family to turn to. It doesn’t matter, though. Everyone was so supportive. No one treats me differently. I kept my shit together and didn’t break down in tears once.
With a lighter heart, I stop in town to explore some shops. The area seems much more built up than I remember it being when I was little. There’s even a small shop that serves and sells specialty teas.
As I walk out of the teashop, I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts, I slam into someone on the sidewalk. Big hands settle on my shoulders to steady me. Startled, I jump back, heart hammering. I’m so freaked out I can barely focus on the two guys in front of me.
“Sorry, darlin.’”
Something about the voice brings on a flood of happy memories and I dare to glance up into a familiar pair of teal-blue eyes. “Marcel?” My gaze darts to his friend, who I also recognize. “Blake? Oh my God, I haven’t seen you two in forever.”
“Little Bree, you’re all grown up,” Marcel says as his gaze travels down my body.
My skin heats at the appreciative way Marcel takes me in. He’s no longer the teenage heartbreaker full of attitude who lived down the street from me. Now, he’s a man. At least six feet of lean muscle, thick blond hair, broad shoulders and enough confidence to stare me straight in the eyes without a lick of hesitation.
Wow. I haven’t had a reaction to anyone other than Liam in too damn long. Marcel’s best friend, Blake, isn’t looking too bad either. Far from the chubby ginger I remember as a teenager, he’s bulky, muscled, bearded, and manly now.
“What are you two doing in town?”
“Taking care of a few things,” Marcel answers.
“I heard about your grandmother. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs, reminding me the two of them weren’t close. “Thanks.”
“How’s Heidi?” His little sister had been his constant shadow and I’ve wondered about her a lot over the last few years.
“Raising hell like always.”
Blake laughs. “True story.”
“If I remember correctly, you two were the hell raisers.”
“Nah.” Marcel glances away with an exaggerated sort of false modesty.
Blake lifts his chin at me. “What’re you doing here? Thought you left for Empire U and didn’t come back?”
“I’m back.” My hand strays to my sunglasses, pushing them up on my face. Marcel’s eyes narrow and he looks me over more carefully.
“Everything okay?”
My shoulders lift and like an idiot, I blurt out, “Bad breakup. I’m home to lick my wounds and then I’ll start graduate school in the fall.”
“What are you studying?”
From what I remember, Marcel hated school, so I’m surprised he cares.
“Psychology.”
“Heidi might be interested in transferring to Empire. If you have time over the summer, would you mind talking to her?”
“No, not at all.”
“Appreciate it.” He pulls out a phone and flips it open. “Let me give you my number. You need anything while you’re home, call me.”
My gaze drops to his muscled forearms covered in full-sleeve tattoos.
That’s new.
Guys with tattoos never attracted me before. But I find my eyes following the bright, intricate designs that disappear under the sleeves of his blue T-shirt.
He catches me staring and I clear my throat. “Sure, I’ll give you my number too. So, uh, you can have Heidi call me whenever.”
We exchange numbers and he gives me a sly smile. Hell, he’d been waiting for me to offer up my number.
“Still riding motorcycles?” I ask.
“Hell yeah.” He taps the patch on his leather vest. Treasurer. The patch below it says Lost Kings MC. I peek at Blake’s vest. Road Captain. Lost Kings MC.
“Sounds like fun.”
Both of them smirk at me as if I might have accidentally insulted them.
“You should come to a party at our clubhouse some weekend,” Blake offers. Marcel shoots him a weird look. Maybe he’s not keen on having me crash one of their clubhouse parties.
Clubhouse? Party? Am I ready for socializing? “Maybe.”
“Still scared to ride on the back?” Marcel nods at two intimidating Harleys parked across the street.
“Yours?”
“Yup.”
After everything I’ve been through, a ride on the back of a motorcycle doesn’t seem as scary as it used to. “I might be willing to give it a try.”
Marcel chuckles and runs his hand over the back of his neck. “All right, Bree. Give me a call when you think you’re ready.” His gaze strays to Blake, who lifts his chin ever-so-slightly. “I’ll come pick you up.”
Somehow that sounded more like an invitation into his bed, than an offer to attend a party.
I’m not insulted. Instead, their attention gives me the boost I desperately need these days. Between Chad crushing my spirit for the last couple years, and Liam keeping our relationship firmly planted in the brotherly concern zone, I’ve been questioning myself a lot lately. At least someone finds me desirable.
Someone? Two hot bikers, you idiot!
“Brianna!”
My eyes briefly shut as mortification sets in. I recognize that voice.
I fake a smile at Marcel, but his entire demeanor has changed. He steps in front of me, shielding me from the street. I peek around him and follow his line of sight.
Right to Liam’s patrol car.
Liam had been extra-overbearing this morning, asking me for every little detail of my plans for the day. It’d been a relief when he finally left for work. Now, he’s back to full overprotective-big-brother mode. He’s also probably five seconds from jumping out and, judging by the look on his face, shooting Marcel.
“That your man?” Marcel asks without taking his eyes off Liam.
“No.” I sigh and tug on his arm to draw his attention away, but he doesn’t budge. “That’s Liam. My brother’s friend.”
They’re like two dogs glaring at each other before an attack.
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Officer Do-gooder. How could I forget.” Marcel ducks down to get a better look at Liam and gives him a cocky wave. “’Sup, officer?”
Liam ignores the obvious challenge. “Bree. Get in the car,” he barks at me.
“You in trouble, darlin’?” Blake asks.
Marcel shakes his hea
d. “Wow, little Bree, in trouble with the law. And here I always thought you were such a good girl.”
“Shut up. He thinks he’s taking my brother’s place while my brother’s away. He’s so far up my ass, it’s absurd. And not in the fun way.”
Blake’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Wanna go for that ride now?”
I run my gaze over the two hot bikers in front of me. “I better not. He’s taking this babysitting job very seriously.”
They both glance over at Liam, whose car is blocking traffic now. “Guess so,” Marcel says. When he turns my way again, he grabs my hand. “No joke, sweetheart. You need something, don’t be afraid to call.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Both of them give me hugs before they leave. Marcel’s hand strays to my ass, but I’m sure that was more about pissing Liam off than feeling me up. The idea makes me laugh.
On my way to his car, I count to ten.
Something tells me I’m in for a lecture.
Blood boiling, I don’t say anything until Bree’s tucked into the passenger side and we’re moving down the road.
“Did you have to embarrass me like that?” she finally asks.
“Weren’t you supposed to be at the doctor? Not out flirting with thugs?”
Damn. I did not mean for that to come out so harsh.
“Are you serious right now?” she asks in a low voice.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She sits there with her arms crossed over her chest, staring straight ahead. “Where’s your car?”
“The parking lot on Front Street.”
Instead of scolding her, I should have asked that question when she first climbed into the car. I execute a U-Turn and head the other way.
“Why do you care who I talk to?” she questions.
“I worry about you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
I bite back the that’s debatable retort forming in my mouth. “Their motorcycle club’s mixed up in stuff I don’t want you around.”
She makes a pfft sound. “Please. I’ve known Marcel since I was a kid.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not a kid anymore.”
“He’s too old for me anyway.”
“He’s my age.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her trying not to laugh. “You’re a little brat.”
“So I hear,” she answers dryly.
Too soon, I pull up behind her car. “Where are you headed now?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Home.”
“I won’t be back until nine or nine-thirty. Will you be all right?”
She huffs and wraps her fingers around her bag tightly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
Without answering, she steps out of the car, but before she slams it shut, she pokes her head inside. “Be careful, Liam.”
“Always, baby girl.”
She shuts the door, and I’m left staring at her.
After following her car a few miles to make sure she’s headed home, I’m no less wound up. Fact is, I’m feeling even more possessive of her. Not romantic—at least that’s what I keep telling myself—but protective. She’s mine to take care of until Vince returns home.
I can’t stand the thought of her being hurt again.
Guys like Marcel—or Teller, as his gang buddies call him—Whelan would do nothing but hurt her.
Because this is such a small town, not even five minutes later, I come up on Marcel and his bro on their bikes, heading east. Before I realize what I’m doing, I flick on the lights and siren.
Unprofessional? Probably.
Do I care? Not really. Not when it comes to Bree’s safety.
Marcel taps his fingers against the side of his leg as I approach. His buddy straight-up ignores me, which is fine. He’s not the one who put his hands on Bree.
“Afternoon, Officer,” Marcel greets me in a smug way that says he’d been expecting a confrontation.
I’d hate to disappoint him.
This is another first for me. I’ve never let my personal life interfere with my professional life so much.
“We’re in a bit of a hurry, so unless you’re gonna write me a ticket—”
“Where you headed?” Standard cop question.
“Home.”
“Where you coming from?”
He slips his helmet off and swings his leg over the bike. I don’t step back, place my hand on my gun, or anything else to indicate I think he’s a threat. Because he’s not, as far as I’m concerned.
Not to me.
Bree? Definitely.
“Do we really need to do the cop and criminal routine? Just say what you want to say, Liam.” He stands there with a bored look stretched across his face and his hands at his sides.
“Fine. I know what your motorcycle club’s into, Marcel. Stay the fuck away from Bree.”
He cocks his head and his mouth settles into a smirk. “Funny, she told me she was single.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Yeah, she mentioned you’ve been babysitting her while Vince is out of town.”
After the talk we had the other night, is that how Bree thinks of me? As her babysitter? “Not your concern. Stay away from her.”
The punk has the nerve to snicker. “Chill the fuck out, officer. She’s a friend from high school. That’s all.”
“Yeah, I know all about how you guys treat your female friends.” I spent time in gang task force, and even though Marcel’s MC doesn’t have the worst reputation in the area, they’re certainly not the innocent, motorcycle-loving, good guys they want you to believe they are. I don’t need her deciding to spice up her life by attending one of their clubhouse parties. Bree shouldn’t be anywhere near them.
His eyes darken and he pushes into my space, but I stay right where I am and stare him down. “You don’t know fuck about me or my club,” he says through clenched teeth. “I asked Bree to talk to my little sister about college. So back the fuck off.”
Sister. That’s right. Now I remember he has a much younger sister he’s crazy protective of. My gaze flicks to his buddy, who’s standing next to his bike silently watching us. “I forgot about your sister. Heidi, right? Bree used to babysit her?” Maybe I don’t have to rip his arms off today.
He takes a few steps back. “Yeah. She’s thinking of switching majors or transferring and I thought Bree could help her out.”
“She’s in college? Jesus, I feel old.”
Marcel lets out a short humorless laugh. “Tell me about it.” He tilts his head to the side, studying me for a second. “You two together or not?”
And just like that, I’m ready to kick his ass again. “Not your business.”
Marcel rolls his eyes while Blake walks over to join our conversation.
“What’s up with Bree? She seemed kinda timid,” Blake says. Unlike his friend, he doesn’t say it to rile me up. He seems genuinely concerned about her.
Should I spill Bree’s personal business? No.
Would I feel better if more people were looking out for her? Yes.
Marcel straightens up. “She said she had a bad breakup. Some guy hassling her?”
“I have it covered.”
“I’m sure you do, Officer.” He glances at his buddy, who gives him a subtle nod. “Bree was always really good to my sister. If handling this guy’s outside your jurisdiction, let us know. We’ll be happy to help.”
I know exactly what the two outlaws mean by handling him.
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The scolding Liam gave me for talking to two old friends was enough to confirm his lack of romantic interest. The sooner I accept he’ll never see me as anything other than Vince’s little sister, the better. I’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.
Pulling into the driveway knowing Liam won’t be home for hours is a drag. I glance at my bag of tea, remembering my idea t
o make homemade iced tea this afternoon and the simple plan cheers me up.
Celebrate the little victories.
That was one of the pieces of advice we received in group therapy today. I wanted to stamp it on my arm, so I wouldn’t forget.
I keep myself busy until eight when I finally plop down to watch television. Every little creak and noise in the house freaks me out, so I crank the volume way up.
“Bree!”
Heart pounding I turn my head and find Liam in the entryway. I grab the remote and mute the television. “Shit, you scared me.”
“Sorry, baby girl.”
“You’re home early.”
He finishes taking off his boots before answering. “I missed you.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he says, dropping into the opposite corner of the couch. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time today.”
Wow. I never expected to hear an apology from Liam. I shift a little closer to him. “You embarrassed me and made me feel like a little kid.”
His eyes close briefly and for a few seconds I’m lost staring at the face that is still one of the most beautiful I’ve ever known. Not perfect. But perfect to me. Familiar. He opens his eyes and there’s a hardness burning in the deep brown depths that I don’t remember being there when we were younger.
My heart thuds as a slow slide of awareness shimmers over my skin. Why do I have to want this man who doesn’t want me? Never has.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was…worried.”
Whoa. I expected another reprimand. “Thank you. Just so you know, if they were two strangers I wouldn’t have stopped to talk to them.”
“Good.”
“How’s your finger?”
A smile kicks up at the corners of his mouth. He holds his hand up, waving it for me to see he’s replaced the big gauze wrap with a normal-sized Band-Aid. “Honestly, better than I thought it would be.”
He drapes his other arm over the back of the couch, leaving his fingers a few inches from my face. I tilt my head, resting my cheek against the back of his hand.
“Tired, baby girl?” he asks.
“A little.”
“How was group?”
“Intense.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs as he slides his hand out from under my cheek and runs his fingers through my hair.
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