“Does Tuck know this?” she asked wearily, her gaze flickering toward the sink area. There wasn’t much she could use as a weapon, but in a pinch, she might be able to use the safety razor to her advantage.
“Tuck?” The woman’s laugh was sharp as the crack of a whip, and Talia got the impression that she had struck a nerve. Well, even more than she apparently already had. “Listen, bitch, I’m gonna be nice and give you five seconds to collect your shit and get out before I call Repo in here to drag your ass out, capiche?”
Her hackles rose. Not the least bit intimidated by the thickness of her attitude, Talia’s patience had worn so thin, it might as well be made of papier-mâché. Tightening the knot of fabric between her breasts, she stuck out a hip. “The name is Talia,” she reminded her, throwing attitude right back, “and Tuck, Country, whatever you wanna call him invited me here, so call whoever you want, but I’m not going anywhere until he tells me to.”
Eyes narrowing to fine slits, the woman’s upper lip curled back. “Fine, have it your way,” she said, and by the airy tone of her voice, Talia knew that the backlash would be severe.
Maybe she’d underestimated her opponent. By some small miracle, the woman turned on her heel and left rather than engage Talia physically. She would have taken her no problem, but Talia wasn’t in the mood for a fight. It was enough that her adrenaline was running on high due to the verbal confrontation. Now all she wanted was either to get dressed and leave or for Tuck to return. At least with him around, she had some kind of buffer—a safeguard to protect her from bunny boiling lunatics. She had to wonder if all the women in the club were like that or if she was just a special breed. Either way, Tuck really knew how to pick ‘em.
And where the hell was that man, anyway?
Drying off, Talia took her first step back into the bedroom when a man the size of a redwood came barreling through the door. Talia’s gaze skated over him in a quick assessment: the tan coloring of his skin, the pure-as-the-driven-snow white beard and hair, all framing cold as ice eyes that cut like a diamond the way they stared her down as if she had just shit in his size thirteen steel-toe boots.
A frisson of fear twisted through her like the blade of a knife, and a lump formed in her throat. Swallowing, Talia tried her best to appear unaffected, but she was well aware of the subtle vibration that traveled the length of her legs. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d truly been afraid, but with the Terminator bearing down on her, it felt like an appropriate response.
“That’s her,” the woman with the voice snarled as she appeared at his side. “She broke into Country’s room and wouldn’t leave when I told her to.”
Talia glared at the little tattletale troublemaker as she pulled up her internal bootstraps and began the difficult process of thinking her way through a sticky situation. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped farther into the room and, once she was within arm’s reach, extended her hand to the man.
“Hi, I’m Talia, Tuck’s friend. And you must be…”—she tilted her head to the side, recalling the threat the woman had issued before leaving—“Repo?”
His stony expression remained impassive, and Talia would have thought him impossible to read if not for the subtle shift behind those startling blue eyes.
“Have we met?” he asked in a baritone that vibrated from his chest like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Wow, Talia thought, that was kind of sexy. “No, but your friend here mentioned you earlier. I just made the connection.”
“We’re not friends. And observance doesn’t earn you points with me,” he said, his tone scolding. “Does Country know you’re in his room?”
“I should hope so. He’s the one who brought me here.”
Repo’s bushy brows dove down over his eyes. “You’re not a bunny.”
Now it was Talia’s turn to frown. “Uh, no. Nope. Just red-blooded woman.” A bunny? Why in the—
“So you’re his date.”
“I guess?” Although “date” wasn’t exactly the term she would have used.
Repo stared her down for several long seconds before drawing in a deep breath that lifted his broad chest, expanding it to twice its normal size. “Never thought I’d see the day…Well,”
he said with an almost lighthearted flare, “have fun with that.”
“Uh…thanks.”
The as-yet-unnamed woman’s face turned a deep shade of scarlet, and Talia wouldn’t have been surprised if her head exploded. “That’s it? You’re gonna let her stay?”
Turning his back on them both, Repo started for the hall, his booted feet clomping against the carpeted floor. “Yep.”
“But she’s not one of us!”
“No, but she’s Country’s date.”
“And he’s my man!”
“Not according to what I’ve heard. Now, I suggest you come along before Country finds you in here harassing his lady friend and kicks you out all over again.” His smile was placating and just plain terrifying. Talia held her breath and had to talk herself out of running back to the bathroom and locking herself inside. As it was, she couldn’t believe the other woman had the balls to stand up to him as if he was as insignificant as an annoying fly buzzing around a picnic table.
“He was in a mood. He didn’t mean it,” the woman argued.
Repo wore a bored expression when he said, “Be that as it may, get the fuck outta his room before I’m forced to drag you out myself.”
“But—”
“No buts!” he roared, making both women jump. “Country says who’s in his room and who isn’t, and tonight, you’re not. Now git!”
Before Talia could blink, Repo had a hold of the woman’s knobby shoulder and was yanking her out into the hall. He gave her a good whirl then shoved her ahead of him. She stumbled, catching herself on the wall, before recovering just as quickly.
“You—”
Repo held up a giant finger, cutting her off. “Say one cross word and I will tan that ass good.”
She shut right up. With an evil glare directed at both of them, she spun away with a huff. Repo turned that unsettling gaze back to Talia, and she swallowed, bracing herself for whatever came next.
“Sorry for the fuss. She’s a rowdy one, but she knows her place.” His gaze skated over her. “You really Country’s girl?”
Caught off guard by the question, Talia said, “Um, for tonight…I guess?”
He nodded sharply. “My boy’s got taste. Well, I’m sure he’s already told you, but don’t leave this room without him. Not unless you’re plannin’ to sample more than one flavor.”
Her jaw dropped at the blatant innuendo. “Are you threatening me?”
“Nope, just stating facts. You walk out of this room unescorted, my brothers will consider you fair game.”
“What about her?” Talia questioned, pointing in the direction the other woman had gone off in. “She didn’t have an…escort.”
“Bambi? She doesn’t need one. Bunnies know the game, and they come here to play. And like I said before,” he said with another slow perusal, “you’re not a bunny.”
No, she certainly wasn’t. Just thinking about being passed around like a piece of meat caused a shudder of revulsion to course through her.
Seeing her understanding, Repo tipped his head to her. “Nice meeting you…”
“Talia,” she provided out of habit, although, on second thought, she wasn’t exactly comfortable with the guy knowing her name, but it was too late to take it back.
“Talia,” he repeated, his voice a gentle caress against her ears. “Remember what I said.”
About not leaving the room? Yeah, she got that memo loud and clear. Watching him leave was a relief as much as it was a disappointment. As scary as the man was, he was also her champion and therefore her protector in a strange way. Alone once again, Talia felt the absence like a physical touch around her throat, a choking sensation that threatened to cut off her airways.
Oh Lord, she was having a pani
c attack.
Reaching behind her, Talia took several stumbling steps backward until she felt the bed beneath her fingertips and then dropped down on the mattress’s edge. The struggle to control her breathing was real, and she scrambled to recall the exercises she’d been taught.
Slow, deep breaths. Concentrate on the feel of the blanket under her hand—the texture, the warmth. As her emotions began to settle and she felt herself reconnect with her surroundings, Talia breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t gotten out of control this time.
She used to have anxiety attacks a lot growing up, putting so much pressure on herself to succeed in everything she did that she’d push herself right into an attack. Eventually, she’d gotten a handle on it, learned not to push herself to the brink like that, and soon she stopped having them altogether. Hell, the last time had been…years ago, back when she first started working for the Feds. She’d been so eager to please, to say and do every single little thing right, that she’d had a meltdown right in front of the director. It’d been the single most humiliating moment of her life.
And here she was again. But why? She’d been in high-stress situations before—stakeouts, gunfire, undercover, you name it. She hadn’t lost her cool once. Now, in the face of an admittedly scary biker and woman content with being nothing more than a cum dumpster, she folds? It just didn’t make any sense.
“Get your shit together, McKinnon,” she muttered to herself. Scraping a palm down her face, she considered her next move. It should be something daring. Something boundary-pushing. Something that could prove to her that she wasn’t losing her edge—or her mind.
Her gaze moved to the table next to the bed. If anyone knew about edgy, it was the man whose room she now sat in.
An idea struck her, and Talia smiled. Yes, she knew exactly what to do to move this night along. Not only would it reinforce her steel-trap mind and give her a night to remember, but with any luck, it would give her the edge she needed to earn Tuck’s trust so she could slide in under his radar and get the answers she was looking for.
But first, she needed to close that door.
SEVEN
Tuck was down two beers and ready for some action. After his mind-fucking talk with Blake, he definitely needed to get lost in something sweet and savory, and how better to do that than between Talia’s sexy thighs?
He was getting down from his stool when Ginger sauntered her way over. “Well, you sure plowed through that one fast,” she observed while removing the empty bottle from in front of him and dropping it in the trash. “Guess you’re looking to lose yourself tonight, huh? Want another?”
Stretching his arms above his head, Tucker let out a loud belch and grinned shamelessly. “The only thing I want to bury myself in tonight is a wet and willing woman.”
Ginger held up both hands in front of her. “Don’t look at me. I already got plans for the night.”
“Does Repo know that?” Tucker asked with a raised brow, a smirk dancing on his lips.
Ginger’s painted lips curved up. “Who do you think those plans are with?”
Ah, so things were finally getting started with those two. Tucker nodded. “Glad to hear it, Momma. Just make sure that knucklehead treats you right, or else…” He let the empty threat dangle. They both knew that Repo had it bad. If he had even an inkling of not doing right by her, he’d likely kick his own ass without anyone’s help.
“Noted, sweetie. ‘Preciate it, too.” She winked then lifted her chin as she fixed her gaze over his shoulder. “Looks like your girl is coming to find you.”
Tucker frowned as he pivoted around, realizing he’d been so focused on Blake’s cryptic behavior and impromptu meeting that he’d forgotten to tell her to stay in his room and he’d come find her. But he shouldn’t have worried about that, because it wasn’t Talia who was heading his way.
Blonde hair waving like a flag behind her, cheeks pink, and hellfire burning in her eyes, Bambi marched straight for him. He cursed inwardly, irritated that he’d have to fend off yet another of her advances and likely end up wasting more time reminding her that they were not and were never going to be a “thing.”
Turned out he didn’t need to worry about that either.
Her hand came up, and before Tucker could think, connected with the side of his face with enough force to turn his head.
“Bastard!” Bambi screeched. “That’s the last time you cheat on me! We’re over!” And as quickly as it started, it ended. Bambi stormed away quick as a tornado in Tennessee Valley.
“Hot damn, that’s gonna leave a mark.”
Repo’s gruff remark earned a glare from Tucker. Rubbing his cheek, he said, “Yeah, thanks for the heads-up, Captain Obvious.”
“You gonna let that shit slide?” Taco called from across the room. Leaning against a pool stick, he cocked a dark brow, and Country wasn’t feeling the look of expectation one bit.
Letting loose his burning face, he considered how much time it would take to go after her and bring her ass to heel once and for all. That kind of shit didn’t fly, whether in the club or out of it. He didn’t put his hands on women, and women damn sure didn’t put their hands on men where he came from. That went double for Spartans and bunnies. Bambi was going to answer for her actions, but not tonight. Tonight he had other plans. “Fuck ‘er,” he replied. To everyone else in the room, who’d taken to staring at him as if he were some kind of anomaly in the human genome, he said, “I got better plans with better company. But that bitch isn’t welcome back in here until she learns her place.”
The pointed command was met with nods all around, everyone agreeing without hesitation. And that was the best thing about the kind of brotherhood they had going on there. Spartans had each other’s back, no matter the fight, no matter the cause. They were like the Three Musketeers, all for one and one for all, and all that good stuff in between.
From out of nowhere, Blake appeared and clapped Tucker on the shoulder with one of his big paws. “Go tend to your woman. I’ll have one of the prospects put the word out that, for the time being, Bambi’s no longer welcome on the property. She won’t be bothering you again.”
Tucker passed him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Prez.” And he meant that with everything he had in him. His sixth sense was shouting from the rooftop that Bambi was like a booger—hard to shake off.
“Just watch where you’re dipping your stick, yeah?”
Tucker just chuckled and walked away. He always watched where his “stick” got dipped—and the view was always one for the scrapbook.
By the time he reached his room, the sound of pool cues hitting their target, music, laughing, and chatter reached his ears, a sign that things were once again back to normal. Confident that his night was about to get back on track, he crossed his fingers for good luck and opened the door.
His eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
“Holy…Am I dreaming, ‘cause there’s an angel in my bed.”
Giggling, soft and sweet as candy, met his ears, and Tucker slipped into the room, closing the door firmly behind him and flipping the lock so no one could follow. There’d been enough interruptions for one evening, and he would be goddamned if he allowed anything to come between him and that bed.
There, with her back against the pillows he laid his head on at night, with the blankets turned down and the sheet pulled up between her breasts, covering the very center of her body from pussy to neck, sat a very naked Talia.
“Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind and ran off.”
Tucker wiped his hand over his mouth, surprised not to find any drool. Skin. Just miles of smooth, creamy, pale pink skin.
“This all for me?” he asked rhetorically as he started toward her, shucking off his shoes and articles of clothing along the way. Presumptive? Maybe, but the picture she was presenting suggested that was exactly what he should be. There definitely wasn’t anything getting between them tonight. Good to know she was on the same page.
“Well, it certainly isn’t for that shrew of a woman that was in here earlier,” she said with a bit of a bite.
Thinking back to the way Bambi had stormed up to him like the devil was on her ass, Tucker cursed under his breath.
“Bambi,” he growled, irritated to learn that he hadn’t been the only one she’d gone after. “You okay? She didn’t touch you or nothin’?” Because if she had, he’d be right back out that door, tracking her ass down and doing what he should have done in the first place.
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Talia scoffed. “Oh please, if she had even thought it, you’d be stepping over her body right now. I can handle myself.”
Oh, yeah, confidence like that was one hundred percent hot as fuck. Ripping his shirt over his head, Tucker felt his gaze heat as it raked over her form. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, sugar.”
“You like the idea of me beating up your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he replied easily. Clank. His belt hit the floor. “I’m a free bird.” Swish. The pants came off next.
Her brow arched, her eyes tracking every move he made with interest, and he liked the way they watched him, all hot and bothered and totally invested.
“Okay, Lynyrd,” she chuckled, and he laughed right along with her. A lady with a sense of humor was always a breath of fresh air. She tilted her head as he climbed onto the bed on all fours and crawled toward her. “Are you trying to tell me you aren’t boyfriend material?”
“Look around, sugar,” Tucker said as he grasped the top of the sheet where it rested over her breasts between two fingers and peeled it back for a peek. “Do any of us look like boyfriend material to you?”
He caught a glimpse of cleavage before she batted his hand away. “You look like hardened criminals, actually,” she said with a lighthearted laugh.
Tucker lunged forward, snagging a quick kiss from her sweet-as-sin mouth. “Oh, now, darlin’, do I look the least bit menacing to you?”
She slid a meaningful look down his body, starting with his chest and landing far south of the border. “At least one part of you does,” she hedged, but there was a marked curiosity in her voice.
Mettle: (Spartan Riders #2) Page 5
