He was dressed in dark jeans with a muscle shirt underneath his vest, and she focused on his front patches. Less prominent than the ones on his back, she didn’t like the one near his right shoulder—Snitches are a dying breed. Men like him harbored secrets and did things she disapproved of. As an attorney, she often represented defendants from his background. But the man outside his club affiliation interested her most. His wit and infectious smile, the dedicated father and friend. What she’d give to get to know that man.
“Ready?” He stepped closer and opened up his arms.
She willingly crawled into them, happy to find another excuse to be so close to him. She laid her cheek against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady.
They passed by several closed doors in the hallway. “It’s so quiet,” Tina said.
“One of the benefits of the members being gone on business. I’ve learned to appreciate the rare minutes of peace around here.”
“And all this time I thought you were an extrovert.”
“I am, most of the time.”
“Can’t handle the spotlight?” she asked playfully, purposely challenging him.
“If I couldn’t handle the attention, I wouldn’t wear the patches.”
She chuckled, liking the gruffness in his masculine voice, the air of complete control. Tina knew better, though. She’d pushed him to the edge months ago, seen him fight against what his mind and body craved. She should know—because she wanted the same thing. Him. In all his biker glory.
“Can I have a kiss?” she asked, gazing up at him.
Vincent stopped abruptly. “Here? Now?”
Tina pretended to assess their whereabouts. “Why not? All I see is an empty corridor. Afraid we might get caught smooching?”
He huffed, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
She nodded in agreement, sighing as his mouth lowered onto hers. Chaste and quick, his lips barely brushed across hers. But she still caught a hint of his heated breath and felt the tension in his body. She wanted more.
They emerged in the main room, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air. But no one appeared to be in the kitchen or in the living room.
A short while later Tina was seated at the dining room table, Vincent serving her a plate of scrambled eggs and sliced cantaloupe. Not exactly her breakfast of choice, but she liked him in domestic mode. Two young sons had molded him into a capable caregiver.
“Where is everyone?”
“Doc left early, the Prospects are already at work, and the old ladies are still asleep. We’re alone again.”
“Are you taking me home after we eat?” she asked.
He claimed the spot next to her, sliding her cup of coffee within reach. “Unless you’d rather take a ride to Portland with me.”
She mixed a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk into her java and took a sip. “Pleasure or business?”
“Both.” He leaned closer. “It’s a beautiful morning; we can stop at Sunset Lake and go bird-watching.”
“On crutches?” She could see the sun through the wall of windows on the backside of the clubhouse. Maybe a day of sightseeing and relaxation was exactly what she needed.
“We can stay on the boardwalk and search for shorebirds on the tidal flats. If you have any trouble getting around, I’ll transport you.” He smiled.
So this behemoth enjoyed the outdoors? She’d have never guessed. Maybe fishing or hunting, but bird-watching? It just didn’t fit. “What species do you like most?”
“Great blue herons are my favorite, but I enjoy black skimmers, northern pintails, and brown boobies.”
“Brown boobies?” she repeated on a giggle like a kid saying a forbidden word.
“Absolutely.” He presented her with a well-worn copy of the National Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Birds. He flipped it open and pointed to a picture. “See? Get your mind out of the gutter, Tina.”
Squat with chocolate and white feathers and yellow feet—he hadn’t made it up. “Okay, I’m in. Do you have an extra pair of binoculars?”
“Sure do.”
Finished eating, Vincent cleared the dishes, then brought over the aluminum crutches. “Let’s give these a try. I can adjust the height if you’re uncomfortable.”
She stood up and he handed her one at a time. She tucked them under her arms and took off across the room, happy to be mobile again. “Thank you,” she said, returning to his side. “Doc said it might take a few days to get better.”
“Sprains suck,” he commented. “Worse than a clean break sometimes. But this one isn’t too bad.”
“I need to grab my sandals from my car before we leave. I don’t think my stilettos are appropriate footwear for the park.”
“Why don’t you give me your keys? I’ll grab your shoes and park your car inside the gates.”
“Okay. My purse is in your bedroom.”
They walked down the hallway together and Tina went straight to the nightstand. She dug out her keys. “Here.” When she turned around, Vincent was standing inches away, his lips parted, clenching his hands.
His intense look made her nervous and she could feel her own heartbeat. “Did I say something wrong?” Their chat over breakfast had lightened her mood, giving her hope for a chance to reboot their friendship. But if he couldn’t control his feelings…
“No.” He forced a smile. “Maybe we need to avoid bedrooms.”
She snorted. “How about horizontal surfaces in general.”
Trying to hold in his laughter, Vincent snagged the keys from her hand. “Take a shower. I’ll be back soon.”
“Wait.”
Already at the doorway, he turned. “Yes?”
“Aren’t you going to wash my back?”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “You know you’re killing me, right?”
She let his words hang in the air before she responded. “I never pegged you for a prude.”
“Prude?”
“Yeah.”
He twirled her key ring around on his finger a few times. “You like to bait guys, don’t you?”
“Only you.” Though she meant it playfully, underneath it smacked of the truth. Maybe if she persisted, he’d give in and just throw her on the bed. Because as far as she was concerned, Vincent just became her newest conquest.
“Cut me some slack, woman. If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t spend the day showing you my favorite place to unwind.”
She tilted her head, evaluating his body language and expression, trying to understand why he continued to deny his feelings, why he went hot then cold whenever she got too close. “It’s a fair start, Vincent Ramos.”
Chapter 4
Vincent snorted at Tina’s choice of vehicle—the girl was so petite she’d drown in a dewdrop, yet she owned an Escalade. He walked around to the driver’s side and stopped. Someone had keyed the word cunt on her door. He spit on the ground and shook his head; the idea of anyone harassing Tina pissed him off. Must have been her psycho client Kline Barnes. If the bastard thought he’d get away with it, the minute Vincent met him, he’d rip his fucking head off. On an angry growl, he stalked through the front doors of Valhalla and went straight to the security room.
With the building protected by a state-of-the-art surveillance system, Vincent intended to check every minute of footage from the three cameras located on the front.
“Up early.” Leonard greeted him with a fist bump.
“Do me a favor?” he asked. Leonard had been promoted to head of security last year. “Review the footage from last night after eleven p.m. Keep an eye out for a black Mercedes and anyone hanging around in the parking lot.”
“Might take a few hours.”
“No problem,” Vincent said.
He left the office and headed to the bar for coffee. Sheila handed him a cup.
“Good morning,” she said. “Beer distributors are scheduled for this afternoon and the cleaning crew just finished up. Anything else, bo
ss?”
Although the Sons of Odin owned shares in the bar, Lang Anderson still held the majority stock. Vincent acted as manager. It was one of the reasons he stayed behind while the rest of the officers traveled to Austin. With Lang away too, it made sense for him to stay in Corpus. “Is the produce stocked?”
She nodded. “We’re good until next Monday.”
“Have the schedule worked out?”
She slid a clipboard down the counter. “Just requires your signature.”
Most of the staff had been employed for five or more years, so the club practically ran itself. But occasionally Vincent popped in to check on everything. He scanned the page, then signed it.
“Thanks for keeping up, Sheila. I’ll be on the road today—call my cell if you need anything.”
Vincent drained his mug, then went outside, considering whether he should tell Tina about her vehicle or just have one of the Prospects in the shop fix it while they were out. Bad news would ruin their day together. He climbed into the plush leather seat and started the engine. The air conditioning and radio came on full blast. He turned both down and drove through the compound gate, parking in a spot where Tina wouldn’t notice the damage to her door.
He twisted around and grabbed her sandals off the floorboard behind the front passenger seat, holding them up. Size six? He smiled; he wore thirteens. He turned on the car alarm and walked around the corner of the clubhouse to the shop, where several Prospects were employed full time. Another profit-making enterprise. With two tow trucks and a four-stall, fully licensed auto body repair business, the garage stayed busy.
J.T. met him just inside the entrance. “Something wrong with your bike?”
“No—someone keyed my friend’s Escalade in the parking lot last night. Driver’s-side door. The taillights are smashed, too. Think you can get it fixed today? I prefer she didn’t see it.”
“Sure.”
Vincent gave him the keys. “Take some pictures of the damage. Get one of the boys to run a complete background check on a guy named Kline Barnes, has a recent assault charge. I want to know what time he takes a shit in the morning.”
“Got it,” J.T. said.
Satisfied he’d remembered everything on his morning schedule, Vincent returned to his room in the clubhouse. He found Tina dressed and waiting on the bed. She looked adorable in the faded jeans, still wearing her halter top and jacket from last night. With her hair styled in a ponytail, pink lipstick, and blush, she looked like a teenager, not a defense attorney. Perhaps he preferred her this way—no fuck-me heels and miniskirt. Just Tina, a girl he wanted to spend the day with.
“Thought you forgot about me.”
“Impossible even if I wanted to.” He placed her sandals on the floor by her feet. “Ready to go?”
She stretched out on her side and patted the open space in front of her. “Can’t we hang here for a while?”
Why did she continue to test his resolve? Because the woman didn’t know how to quit. An admirable trait under any other circumstances. “We shouldn’t waste daylight—the birds are waiting.”
On a disappointed little sigh she slipped her feet into her shoes, then grabbed the crutches leaning against the mattress. “Are we hitting Portland first?”
“Sure, should only take a few minutes.”
“What kind of business are you conducting?”
“Club business,” he rumbled, not ready to open up to her. “The kind you shouldn’t ask questions about.”
She saluted like a soldier, middle finger extended. “Yes, sir.”
She flipped him off for that? “Didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. But you know better,” he said with annoyance.
“Maybe I do.” She bounced toward the door. “But I can’t help my inquisitive nature.”
“Is that why you became an attorney?”
“Partly.” She shrugged. “I enjoy debate and believe in our judicial system; it’s by far the least prejudicial in the world.”
Vincent clicked his tongue. “Beautiful and delusional.”
“Excuse me?”
“Least prejudicial? Goddamned liberal arts schools brainwash their students. Don’t you watch the news or read the papers? Check the stats—there’s a disproportionate number of guys like me convicted and sentenced to long prison terms just because of their affiliations with clubs.”
“Wouldn’t have anything to do with illegal activities, huh?”
Vincent eyeballed her. “I knew that’s what you’d say.”
“Am I that predictable, Vincent? In case you forgot, I’m a defense attorney. So I’m on your side.”
“Maybe,” he commented, still studying her with interest. Nothing seemed to ruffle her feathers, not like most women. “I still suspect all lawyers are part of some secret society where you sacrifice helpless animals to your legal gods.”
She laughed. “Yeah, and bloodletting is still a popular medical procedure. If you’re truly interested in the ancient history of my profession, Emperor Claudius abolished the ban on legal fees in the first century. So paid advocates have been around for a long time.”
He rubbed his chin. “You don’t say.”
“And to sum it up, I’m a capitalist.”
“You mean opportunist? Like all ambulance chasers.”
“Hey.” She slapped his arm. “Not my thing.”
“Can’t blame you for wanting to make money.”
“I believe in what I do.”
Maybe. Or she’s another victim of society’s conditioning process. One of the biggest reasons he’d joined the Brotherhood, to escape suburban slavery. No one owned him. Not a corporation and definitely not the law. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he followed her down the hallway and out the front door.
Chapter 5
Vincent reminded her of the boys her parents provided foster care for after she moved out. All teenagers with violent histories, some physically abused, others severely neglected. Each carried a serious chip on his shoulders. She gazed out the driver’s-side window of Vincent’s Silverado. He was standing at the doorway to a house on San Saba Drive in Portland, an upscale neighborhood. Everywhere she looked reminded her of traditional Texas suburbia: cookie-cutter houses with lush lawns, flower beds, two late-model cars in the driveways, covered porches, and cobblestone walkways. Did one of the club members live there? She didn’t see any motorcycles.
The front door finally opened and Tina eyed the pretty blonde. She smiled and invited Vincent inside. Curious to a fault, Tina tried to occupy herself with the radio, then the CD player. She hit play and Mötley Crüe came on, “Ten Seconds to Love.” She giggled at his taste in eighties glam rock. Something she’d have to tease him about later.
Seriously though…Her mind played mental ping-pong all the time. Maybe that’s why she could multitask so well. What if he was making a drop—drugs or money? Would he jeopardize her safety like that? She knew better; he’d done nothing but treat her with the utmost respect. Too much, really. Which drove her crazy. She preferred her men a little more callous; alpha males turned her on. Hell, Vincent turned her on. She wanted to tap into his bad-boy side, unleash the antagonistic nature she knew he possessed.
Why didn’t he open up like other guys?
Twenty minutes flew by and still no Vincent. Bored with her iPhone, Tina opened the glove box to explore. She found some loose photos on top, four pictures of Vincent and his sons. The sunny-faced eldest had copper-colored hair; the younger, blond curls and wide blue eyes. Both favored their father.
Looking up as the front door to the house opened, Tina quickly returned the pictures and closed the glove box. He wouldn’t appreciate her riffling through his truck. He climbed inside and smiled.
“Sorry, it took longer than I expected.”
“No problem,” she said, feeling guilty for snooping. She stared out the windshield.
“Hey. Something wrong?”
She looked at him. “Of course not.”
“Still
dying to know what I’m doing?”
“Honestly?”
He patted her knee. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”
“Don’t believe it for a second—I’m pretty crafty.” There, she’d lightened the mood.
He chuckled in appreciation. “My ex-wife lives here. I dropped off some money for my oldest boy’s birthday.”
Tina welcomed his sudden openness. “Having a party?”
“Next Saturday.”
“I bet you’re excited to spend time with him.”
“I’m not invited.” His tone intensified. “I get one weekend a month. Terms of the custody arrangement. Unless Laura gives me special permission to attend family functions, I’m screwed. Seems the court system doesn’t appreciate my lifestyle.”
“That’s bullshit,” she said. “I know violent felons who win shared custody, sometimes sole custody.”
“Laura had an affair with the judge’s son while we were still married. Still is.”
Tina snorted. “Can you prove it?”
“Absolutely,” he said, starting the engine. “They post pics on Instagram and Facebook all the time.”
Tina unbuckled and twisted around so she could look him directly in the eyes. “That’s a conflict of interest for the judge. He needs to recuse himself and let the court reassign your case. You have grounds for a new custody hearing.”
“I know.” He made a U-turn and headed for the highway. “Avoiding the legal system is my way of staying below the radar.”
“Family court is different.”
“Is it?”
“Aren’t you a bank loan officer? Surely the judge took that into consideration.”
“I retired early.”
“Oh.” At twenty-something? So he relied on his income from the MC. Tina sighed. Why did he accept that botched custody agreement without a fight? One weekend a month? “I could take a look at it.”
“Not necessary,” he said flatly. “But I appreciate the offer. Sometimes life doesn’t give you what you want.”
“You don’t strike me as the kind of man who subscribes to that kind of hopelessness. Do you have a criminal record?”
Possession Page 3
