by Shyla Colt
Long, powerful legs were encased in black leather pants, and muscular arms were bare up to his deltoid in what looked like a black T-shirt and the leather vest. Ink swirled up his arms.
She narrowed her eyes. Damn! I’m too far away to discern details. Forcing her gaze away, she accepted the tumbler from Ken.
It was best to forget the sexy biker. They might as well be from different worlds. Men like him held no interest in women like her, even if she had pretty packing on tonight.
Chapter Two
“Hey, Shooter, you ready to leave?”
Moose’s gruff voice stole his attention from the luscious, brown-skinned woman whose gaze sent him up in flames. Pure wasn’t their typical scene. Tonight they’d been doing the Prez, Tiny, a favor by trailing his daughter.
Katie was a perky blonde with a banging body, though Shooter never let the Prez know he thought that. Coddled by her Father and trashed by her ex-Old Lady of a mother, Tricia, the poor girl, was a wreck. With her twenty-first birthday, she’d hit the party scene at a dead run. Drinking like the alcohol would be taken off the shelf any day and getting involved with some less than reputable characters. Considering the Lords of Mayhem were no angels, the statement said a lot.
“Katie cut out?” Shooter leaned against the bar.
“Yeah, she left with Smokey’s Old Lady, said they were going back to her place.”
Shooter smirked. The six-foot-three-inch man, built like a linebacker, looked uptight as hell. He’d seen the man stare down the barrel of a .45 without batting an eye. Now a club was about to do him in?
“Feeling uncomfortable, Moose?” He grinned.
“Fuck, yeah. It’s not our kind of place, eh?”
The Canadian expression curved Shooter’s lips upward. Even after all these years, Moose’s accent still amused Shooter. Named Moose for the animal he’d hit with his parents’ car, the import was loyal, steady under pressure, and funny as hell. He had one-liners that had put half the comics Shooter had seen on television to shame. Of course, most of them were filthy as fuck.
“True enough. But I’d like to hang around a while.”
Moose narrowed his blue eyes and stroked his full beard. “You sniffing out some pussy?”
“You really care?”
“Eh, I just want to know if she’s got a friend.” Moose shrugged.
The word pussy seemed too harsh for the woman he’d seen. She was definitely a vagina or lady parts type. Exactly why I don’t need to be looking twice. Despite her revealing outfit, he could tell she wasn’t the kind you just fucked. Normally that meant he moved on to the next. He glanced away, but found his attention drawn back to her. There was a hidden depth in her. An invisible mark that all people who’d been through some deep shit wore. The mystery she presented intrigued him.
“She’s got a few. But none of them look the slam-bam type.”
“Shit, Shooter. You scouting out Old Lady material?” Moose’s eyes grew the size of golf balls.
“I’m not looking. Way I hear it, though, they tend to catch you unaware.”
“All the more reason for me to get the fuck out of here. You gonna be okay alone?”
The anxious look on the large man’s face made Shooter chuckle. “Aren’t I always?”
“Yeah, good point. See you later, man. I’m going to have fun with some obligation-free Sweetbutt.”
“You enjoy that, and wrap it up.”
“Don’t have to tell me. I’m not trying to be a father or have some crazy ass thinking I’m her path to ladder climbing.” Moose shuddered. “Happy hunting, hope you capture your prey.” Moose gave a mock salute and disappeared into the crowd.
Tossing back the rest of his whiskey sour, Shooter set the tumbler on the bar and signaled for another. He’d never been an individual to act first and think second. Before he approached her, he’d do a little recon.
Taking his fresh drink, he blended in with the crowd, careful to keep her in sight and his position hidden. Who knew I’d be using sniper training to pick up chicks?
Fifteen minutes later, the sway of her hips and the curve of her back summoned him onto the floor. He turned away three scorching hot women because he couldn’t keep his thoughts, or his eyes, off her. The coy glances she sent his way woke something inside him. A primal instinct to track and claim. It reminded him of something his father said about his mother once. From the first time your mother looked at me with secrets in her eyes, I wanted to learn, I had a compulsion to figure out the mysteries I knew she held. What started off as a short-term mission quickly expanded to last a lifetime, and I’ve never regretted it once. When you meet a woman who entrances you with more than her body, and draws you to her without words, you hold on to her. Because there comes a time when everything has been said, beauty fades and only the connection that brought you together in the first place matters.
He’d never understood it until now. His dick pressed against his pants, fighting to get out, and he knew the only woman it would be satisfied by stood in the center of the floor with her girlfriends.
One night wouldn’t be enough. He needed to mark her as his. He’d figure out what about her dug under his flesh along the way. It’d been years since his interest was sparked.
Memories of his last brush with love made him cringe. Clearly my judgement is flawed. Do I really want to try this again? Shaking off the cobwebs of the past, he made his way through the crowd that parted like the Red Sea. When you were the scariest man in the room, maneuvering became relatively easy. He could have approached her from behind. That thick ass filling out her skirt begged to be rubbed by his cock. However, he wanted to see her eyes. Watch those dark orbs flash with recognition and desire. She wanted him. The real question running through his mind was, would she accept him?
He saw the shock on her friend’s face when he appeared behind her and trailed his fingers over the bare skin of her back as he walked around to face her. The heat radiating from her body singed him, and the contact sent a jolt straight to his cock. She looked up with an irritated expression that fell away when their gazes met. Her full lips formed an O.
“Dance.” There was no query in his statement, but she nodded. Their bodies molded together like two pieces sculpted to fit. Full breasts pressed into his chest, teasing him with pointy nipples. Her rounded belly and curvy hips pleased him. They added to her softness and made her different from his usual fare. The bunnies with their copious amounts of makeup and skimpy clothes he used for one-night stands required no real thought. Everything about this woman appeared to be genuine. In their own zone they rocked together, lightly rubbing without getting raunchy. He felt like a damn high school kid, keeping a respectable distance, but damn did it feel good and right.
Squeezing the supple flesh in his palms, he watched the tension melt from her shoulders. The shyness she’d first exhibited began to give way and she offered up a smile. Her teeth were even and white, except for a slightly crooked tooth that he found charming. Fuck, did I actually just think that. The woman had red flags flying, but he didn’t want to run away. The music changed to something slow and their pace adjusted. Bending down, he brushed her ear with his lips, savoring the shiver that racked her tasty figure. “I’d like to buy you a drink, if you’ll let me.”
She pulled away to glance up at him, totally stunned. He laughed. “I can be a gentleman when I want to be.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Shooter.”
“Juliette.”
“Now we’re acquainted.” Releasing her, he stepped back. His body screamed in protest. Twining their fingers, he led her over to the whispering cluster of girls giving him the evil eye.
“Ladies, I’ll be monopolizing Juliette’s time for the rest of the night.”
“I don’t think so delicious, dark, and deadly. I don’t know you from Adam. You can’t just whisk her of
f to parts unknown. Have you seen the news these days?” She shook her head, sending curls flying about her face.
Juliette sighed. “Hil—”
“My name’s Shooter.”
“First of all, Shooter? That’s not the name your mother delivered you with at birth.” The stern frown reminded him of his third grade teacher. That woman could strike fear in the hearts of the most hardened. “You’re being awfully accommodating.” The curly-haired woman crossed her arms over her chest. Her friends had gone from dancing to closing in around him on all sides.
“You guys are so over the top right now.” Juliette rolled her eyes.
“I can be very reasonable when it gets me what I want.” He winked.
Her mouth formed an O. She turned to the woman who’d gone silent beside him. “Jul, are you okay with this?”
“Yes.” Juliette nodded.
“Then let’s take it off the floor. ‘Cause the only way I’m leaving you alone with this man for any extended amount of time is if I can track him down with some solid information.”
Shooter snickered. Normally, he’d tell a bitch off, but she amused him, and he couldn’t fault her for looking out for Juliette. Together the five of them walked to a table on the perimeter of the dance floor.
“Here’s my phone.” He dug his phone out of his pocket with his left hand, refusing to relinquish his hold on Juliette, who looked ready to bolt any moment.
“I’m Hilary. This is Joey and Evonne. The three women who will make your life a living hell if anything, and I mean so much as a stubbed toe, happens to Juliette while she’s with you.”
“I’d wager I have the safest place in town.”
“Humph.” Hilary turned her attention to his phone, saving the number and calling him. When his ring tone chimed in response she nodded and peered up. “Address?”
He fished his wallet out of his back pocket and handed it to the curly-haired woman he’d secretly nicknamed the harpy.
“Same as on your driver’s license… Daniel Andrew Nash?”
“Yes. You plan on driving by and peeking through the windows?”
“Maybe.” Her lips twitched, and he rolled his eyes.
Ball buster.
Her fingers flew over the keys. A few agonizing minutes later she was done.
“Looks like you check out. Jul…you sure?” The harpy’s eyes grew warm, and she laid a gentle hand on Jul’s upper arm.
“I am.”
He wanted to pick her up, toss her over his shoulder, and run before they convinced her to stay there with them. Is she a fucking princess or a senator’s daughter?
“Okay. Be safe and have fun,” Harp— Hilary said.
“Don’t worry, she will.” After collecting his wallet and phone, he shoved them back into his pockets and turned, guiding her into the crowd.
“T-this isn’t what I expected!” she called to him over the music. They exited the floor, and he steered them away from the others by a wall. Gripping her hips, he bent down so she could hear him.
“Well I save throwing women over my shoulder and carrying them off to my bike for the second date.”
She glanced away and he laughed. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You’re…not my usual type.”
“Good, I like being your first.” She glanced down and he laughed. “Don’t’ worry sweetheart, I don’t bite unless asked.”
“Oh.” The quaver in her husky voice filled him with desire. “Is that what you want?”
He trailed his thumb across her neck, resting it against her throbbing pulse point. “Perhaps another time, after I cracked that shell you’re tucked away in.”
“That’s not something good girls do.” She swallowed hard.
“Oh baby, good girls do. In time I’ll show you that firsthand.” The pulse in her neck became erratic. Aware of the limitations he cleared his throat and stepped back. “We need to get that drink now.”
“Yeah,” she whispered stepping away from the wall.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, mean-mugging the men eyeballing her like a piece of meat. They glanced away and he grinned. He and Juliette reached the end of the bar and he turned to her.
“Pick your poison.”
“Just a coke. I’m the designated driver.”
“You doing for Sainthood?”
She laughed. “No. I lost the game of paper, rock, scissors.”
He smiled. “Fair is fair. If you weren’t the drier what would it be?”
Amaretto sour, or whiskey sour in a pinch.”
“I’ll commit it to memory.”
She flashed him a surprised look.
“What can I get for you?” the brunette bartender asked, appearing at the end of the bar.
“Whiskey on the rocks for me and a cola for the lady.”
“You got it. Mayhem drinks free.”
Shooter nodded his thanks as the woman turned on her heel and disappeared to the opposite end of the bar.”
“Mayhem?” Juliette asked.
“That’s the name of my M.C. The Lords of Mayhem.” He ran his fingers over the club emblem and she tilted her head.
“C-Can I touch it?”
“Only cause you asked so nicely.” Damn she’s green. The situation thrilled him. A woman who cared about Shooter the man, not the position he held in Mayhem, or the perks of being a biker’s woman.
“Sergeant at Arms?” She ran her fingers over his patch, burning a hole through the leather at the cotton that covered his chest. The bartender returned and set the drinks in front of him.
“Basically, I make sure thinks run smoothly. Think of me an organizer. What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, your job, or are you just ridiculously wealthy?” He thought back to the bodyguard routine her friend put on.
“Hah I wish. I’m a librarian.”
“No shit?” he said. Images of her dressed in a crisp white button-up, black pencil skirt, and pumps made him tamp down a moan.
“Yeah, no-uh shit.” The words sounded awkward coming from her.
“Why don’t we take this outside, it’s a nice night.”
“I’d like that.” They moved away from the bar and out into the warm night. “I have to ask this, why are you being so nice?”
“Say what now?”
“I can’t be your normal type. If you’re looking for a piece of ass, I won’t be worth your time. I’m not easy and you are slightly frightening.”
“Then why are you out here with me?” he asked.
“Because you fascinate me and I would never want to spend my life wonder ‘what if’.”
“That’s the same reason I’m out here too, librarian. I’m not a complete monster. You give me time and I’ll show you just how good I can be. I knew from the start you weren’t the type of girl I could pin against the wall of an alley and take hard and fast. At least not until I claim you as mine.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You feel it too. I’m not the type of man to bullshit. I’m interested. Are you going to give me the time of day?”
She nibbled her bottom lip as he sipped at his whiskey.
“How about this.” She unzipped her tiny purse that dangled off her wrist, dug around and removed a white card.
“You come find me, and we’ll talk.” The playfully mirth that colored her eyes made him grin.
“A mission? You have no idea how good I am at fulfilling those.”
‘I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?”
“Fuck yes, you will.”
Chapter Three
“Juliette… someone is out front asking for you.” Billy, the library’s volunteer, looked confused and slightly pale. The freckle smattered across the bridge of his nose stood out, and his bright blue eyes held a note of fear.
“Are they upset?” she asked standing from the bottom shelf she’d been restocking.
“I don’t know. I think his face is just fixed into a permanent scowl.” Billy gestured toward the front of the building. His long russet hair fell across his eyes. “I left him at the desk. Do you want me to call security?”
Excitement raced through her. Did Shooter actually come here? After two days of nothing, she’d chalked their night flirting to a one-off. “No, its fine, Billy. I think I know the person you’re describing.” She checked her hair for flyaways, smoothed the wayward pieced into place and straightened her white button-up and gray skirt. She took a deep breath and walked out of the row of books, careful to pace her steps. I don’t want to seem too eager. The biker shocked her with his charm, wit, and though she was ashamed to say it, his manners. He’d been raised right by someone. As she grew closer to the front desk she spotted his unmistakable frame leaning against the desk. His dark hair was swept back off his face and he grinned up at her.
“Excuse me, Miss, I’m in search of a good read.” The shit-eating grin stretched across his handsome face made her heart race.
“I think I can help you with that, sir. What kind of story are you in the mood for?”
“A mystery.” There was a weight to the words she didn’t quite understand.
“What kind of mystery are you looking for?” She reached the desk and stopped a few feet away from him.
“Isn’t the fun part choosing the book and discovering where it takes you?”
“To be honest, I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I almost didn’t come. I’ not a nice man, Juliette. I can’t promise you I’ll be good for you. But I will be good to you.”
“Why?” She wanted to believe him, but she’d made a mistake before. Masculinity attracted to her. She was a throwback, someone who liked a man to be a man— bold, confident, strong and chivalrous. The last time she’d been blinded by wealth, charm, and polished good looks. She thought she’d found her real-life Gatsby with Peter Stant, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.
