“Pfft!” Axel watched the interchange, his face alight with amusement. He was in a sickeningly good mood, and Troy really wanted to punch him.
“Fucking smart-ass,” Pa said. “Watch what you say about your mother, or I’ll smack some respect into you. I had to get near her somehow, in the first place. I didn’t have a pretty mug like yours.”
Hawg, Pervert, and Barf came over, and Troy groaned inwardly. Damn. It was time to get on his bike and ride.
“Razor was an ugly bastard,” Hawg agreed.
“Not handsome like you, Hawg,” Pa agreed.
Hawg’s belly jiggled as he laughed. “Not well-hung like me, either,” Hawg said. “And Georgia still chose you over me. Can’t understand it.”
“Try being sweet to the gal,” Pa said to Troy, “before she realizes what she’s getting and does a runner.”
The brothers laughed. They’d never seen a father-son exchange between them before, and as far as Troy was concerned, they wouldn’t ever again.
“I’m out of here,” he said, shoving the ice pack and his whiskey glass away from him.
“Go stroke your pussy,” Axel said. “They say petting’s good for stress.”
“Fuck off, Axel.”
The brothers laughed.
At least his lip had stopped bleeding. He strode off, getting as far away from the fucking clowns as he could. He got on his Harley, starting it with a roar.
He didn’t know how to “sweet talk,” and he was surprised that an ugly bastard like Pa could. He thought about Stacey and the way her big blue eyes had grown teary as they’d fought.
He decided to stop at a late-night pharmacy to buy condoms.
He might not know how to court a woman properly with sweet talk, but he knew how to fuck.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Stacey showered and washed her hair, trying to get a grip on herself as her tears flowed. How had Troy gotten under her skin so fast? He was determined to control her life, but she couldn’t live that way. He seemed to think she was incapable of living in New Orleans without either him or his hideous brothers taking care of her. She could damn well take care of herself.
She stepped out of the shower and dried herself as quickly as possible. She needed to fall into bed. Her feet hurt and her head was spinning with what to do about work. Instinctively, she knew she had to fire Bill. On Monday, she’d do it.
He’d been watching her all day with shifty sideward glances as she did the stocktaking, detailing everything that was missing, and it was adding up to thousands of dollars.
But first, the pregnancy test. She had to do that, too. She opened the cardboard box she’d bought at the pharmacy earlier and pulled out the test. She sat on the toilet and peed. Holding up the test she waited as one blue lined formed. Tremulous, she waited for a second blue line. A baby would change her life. Make her dependent upon Troy.
Nothing.
Thank God. But oddly, the irrational part that lived deep inside of her was sad.
Just as every muscle in her body started to relax, she heard it. The front door rattled as someone tried to open it. Thankfully, she’d locked it and used the chain.
Was it Troy? Her whole body was attuned to the rumble of his bike, but she hadn’t heard it.
She threw the pregnancy test into the garbage bin, raced to her bedroom, and yanked on her jeans. Quickly opening her chest of drawers, she dug out a black T-shirt and pulled it over her head. She could hear whoever it was trying her bedroom window next, rattling it, testing the window frame.
Damn Troy. Couldn’t he knock like a normal person? The last thing she needed was to pay for a window to be repaired. She flew across her bedroom and slung aside the curtains.
And screamed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Troy rode his Harley right up to Stacey’s front door preparing for a fight. But instead, she threw the door open and was in his arms the moment he got off his bike. “Hey. What’s up?”
Her face was ashen, and she was shaking. “There was a man wearing a mask staring in my bedroom window.”
God damn it. He’d warned those assholes. He needed to take action, since they hadn’t backed off. No one was scaring his woman. It was time to introduce them to Slayer justice.
“Get back inside. Go sit in the kitchen and pull the blinds down.” He took the gun from his waistband holster and loosened the knife in his boot, ready to take down anyone stupid enough to scare his woman.
She was his woman.
With her safe in the kitchen, he scanned the street for any vehicles he didn’t recognize, then stalked to the side of the house where her bedroom was. There was a cigarette butt on the pathway outside her window. He picked it up and touched the end. Still warm.
There was a copse of trees where he’d hidden way back when he’d spied on her before the kidnapping. Sprinting over there, he checked for new footprints. Nothing. He let himself inside the house and strode into the kitchen.
With her blonde hair plastered to her face, and her large, wide eyes, she looked young and innocent enough for someone to toy with. She didn’t realize she was beautiful. That was part of her charm, but she stood out like a colt on long legs, all new, shiny, and vulnerable.
She was wiping up the dishes from dinner and putting them away, but her hands were trembling and making the crockery clatter. “Did you see anyone?” she asked.
“Nah. They probably heard the bike and fled.”
“I thought it might have been you.”
“I use the front door.” He waited for her to argue. To tell him again they were over.
“What’s going on, Troy? I know my way around New Orleans. I grew up here until the divorce when I was ten. I lived here in my teens when Mum was ill. I’ve never had problems before.”
He shook his head. “You had your father and Animal living here. Animal told me your father served his country, and Animal’s known as a mean fighter. They would have gutted any intruder.”
She put her head in her hands and rubbed her forehead. “Maybe I need to buy a guard dog.”
“You’ve already got one. Come to bed.”
Bed was the one place they had no arguments. He had no sweet words because he wasn’t that kind of guy. Instead, he’d bind her to him with sex. He wrapped his arm around her waist, propelling her down the hall to her bedroom.
He knew how to make her his.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Stacey’s heart was still in her throat, but with Troy by her side, she knew she was safe. And yet, her mind was a maze of questions. How could she have a relationship with him if his go-to reaction when they had a disagreement was to strong-arm her?
He unzipped the pocket of his jacket and threw a packet of condoms on the bed.
She sat on the bed and looked up at him, determined not to let him faze her. “We need to talk.”
“Suit yourself.” He stripped off his jacket, T-shirt, jeans, and boots, his hard-on standing proud.
She swore the man was always hard around her. Physically perfect in every detail. He had a good, thick erection with a large knob on the end. A fantastic tool. She grabbed her bedside glass of water, drank deep, then walked over to her chest of drawers to retrieve her nightie.
He pulled the coverlet back and lay on his back, watching her with his dark eyes gleaming, the packet of condoms held loosely in his hand. “I like your new look.”
“What look?” Was this his attempt at communication? The night was still steamy, so she pulled out a flimsy nightie, wishing she had something longer because from the way he was looking at her, she could tell he was already undressing her in his mind.
She took off her T-shirt and slid the nightie over the top, his scrutiny making her shiver.
“You’re not wearing a bra.”
“I’m not wearing underwear, either,” she said.
“Take the jeans off slowly, and bend over the dresser.”
“No. I’m tired. And I hurt all over.” Sex wasn’t going to
solve her problems.
She turned her back on him and slithered out of her jeans so they pooled at her feet. She stepped out of them, stooped and picked them up, and flung them over the bedroom chair.
When she climbed into bed, he spooned her, reaching up to massage her from her shoulders down the length of her spine, his thumb getting between each vertebra. She had to admit, it felt good. So good, her body melted into his.
His skin was warm, his torso rock-hard, and she could feel his crisp arm and leg hairs tickling her body. How was it they could meld so well in bed but be at war in life?
“Stacey?” His hand slipped around her front, and he stroked her hair away from her face, his thumb gently pressing into her temples to ease the tension there.
“Hmm?”
“You okay?”
“I’m glad you’re here. I was horrible earlier. I said things I shouldn’t have.” A twist of guilt showed its sharp blade. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay.” He kissed the back of her neck with tender, warm lips and her toes curled.
“I miss Dad and Brian. I wouldn’t be having these problems with the business if Dad were still alive.” Tears welled up. She hadn’t grieved for her father. Hadn’t had time. She’d been too busy looking after Brian, who’d been going off the rails when she arrived.
“You’re not alone,” Troy said softly.
“But I am.” Her worries burst out of her. “There’s stock missing at work. Money going out that I can’t account for.”
“I’m here now, and I’ve been thinking about your business problems. Why don’t we go over it all on Sunday while the store is closed? Meanwhile, I’ll get some feelers out and see if I can find where that stock is going.”
She smiled into the pillow. “That’s a new solution for you. It doesn’t involve beating up Bill.”
“I’m more than just brawn,” Troy said, feigning affront, then his voice deepened and went all melty. “I have many skills. Let me show you.” His hand moved down her body between her legs.
She rolled around to face him before he could reach where he was seeking. There was a stream of light coming from the neighbor’s, and she could make out his face in the dark.
“But that’s just it,” she said. “I can’t afford to get used to you helping me solve my problems. You’re not the sort of guy who will stay in one place. You’ve never done it before. Why would you start now?”
“I never had a woman I wanted to stay for before now,” he said simply.
“What are you saying?” She reached up and touched his cheek, her thumb moving over it, feeling the prickly stubble as she followed the line of his face. It was oddly comforting.
“I’m not going to re-up. I’ve made up my mind. You need me here.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and her heart leaped. “Really?”
“I know you don’t want to accept the Slayers, but I promise, we’ll work something out.” His hand moved to cup her breast, but she put her own hand over his and stopped him.
“I can’t accept criminals, Troy. I know what that one-percenter badge means.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“It means the guy has killed someone.”
“A lot of men who’ve been in the military have killed people.”
“That’s different. That’s serving their country, under orders. It’s not going out and murdering someone so you can wear a badge. How can anyone be proud of murdering someone?”
“You’re spending too much time believing stupid TV shows and what’s written online. A lot of motorcycle club members are like me. Men who don’t fit into the mainstream. Loners. Tough guys who have served. We’re all loyal to our club, and we all love to ride.”
“If only it were that simple. But it’s the whole culture. Just look at how you treat women!”
He grimaced. “Okay. I’ll give you that. Though, in the club’s defense, no one is forcing them to be there. They’ve chosen that life themselves.”
She blew out a breath. “One could argue that point.” She removed the hand that was on her breast and put it around her back, instead. “But if you want any chance of me choosing to be with you, I need you to listen to me when I tell you something, and to consult me on decisions that affect me. I’m not in the army, and I won’t be ordered around.”
“I assume you’re speaking of the engagement party.”
“Among other things.”
“The engagement party wasn’t my idea,” he said, actually looking slightly annoyed at having to go along with it. “And I’ll admit, I didn’t broach the subject very tactfully. But ultimately, it’s all about your safety.”
“Gosh, did I hear an apology somewhere in there?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Maybe.”
“In that case, accepted.” She snuggled in closer. “I’m glad you came home.”
“There wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to go.”
Having him so sweet with her was special. She wanted to take advantage and talk. “So…does this mean we’re really engaged?”
He pulled her in tight, his cock pressing between her thighs. “The ring’s real, isn’t it?”
Another non-answer. It was so damn hard to work out if he really cared.
“Your mother called me to see if I was okay. Pa must have told her we’d had a fight.”
Troy groaned. “There’s no privacy at the club.”
It had been an awkward conversation. Stacey had still been steaming mad but hadn’t wanted to be the one to break his mother’s heart by saying it was over.
“I told her I didn’t want to go to the meet.”
He winced. “What was her reaction?” He started stroking her bottom.
“She said she hoped I’d accept the brothers, but it was always up to me. Then she asked when the wedding date was.”
His hand stopped moving. “Uh-oh. What did you say?”
“I told her we hadn’t set a date yet. She assumed it was because we have to find a venue first.”
He grimaced. “And you let her believe that?”
“I didn’t know what else to say. What do bikers do for a wedding, anyway?”
“The bride goes naked, wearing just a veil.” He leaned forward and started kissing the side of her neck.
She gasped.
He chuckled.
“You made that up,” she said, shoving at his shoulder. “Troy, I can only put your mother off for so long. She’s going to start getting suspicious.”
“So, plan a wedding,” he said, an indecipherable look on his face.
She sat up and faced him. “That’s not helpful. It would mean lying to your mother. Hurting your mother terribly when she finds out the truth. Think this through. Are you okay with that?”
“Just make it months away. By that time, I’ll get Lizzie back, and she can take the heat off me.”
Okay. There was no ambiguity about those feelings. His intent was clear as crystal.
A flat, dull sensation settled around Stacey’s heart. “Very romantic, Troy.”
“What? You want me to say we’re madly in love and getting married next week?”
“No one would believe you.” Least of all, her.
“Then stick with that we need to find a venue, and nothing’s available for a year’s time. That’s the best I can think of.” He sighed. “You’re too uptight, baby. You need an orgasm to relax.”
Obviously, he hadn’t learned the lesson yet about sex not solving every problem. But biting his lip again probably wouldn’t help.
She sighed. “I wondered how long you’d be able to talk to me without mentioning sex.”
“I think this is a record.” He seemed surprised himself.
“Just remember, lies have a habit of becoming exposed.”
“I’ll deal with exposed. Actually, I like the sound of that. Let’s get you exposed.” He slithered down her body before she could reply.
The first tickle of his tongue on her inner lip
s made her roll her hips. This big hunk of a man had attuned himself to her body. He played with her for a while, teasing her with gentle licks until he slowly built up a rhythm. She closed her eyes and widened her legs, welcoming him. With this, she trusted him.
He licked around her entrance and shoved in his tongue as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She clenched him tightly, wanted to take his tongue deep inside her, imagining it was his cock. Moaning, she reached down and twined her fingers in his hair. By the time the tip of his tongue licked over her clit, she was ready to explode.
Little tremors built in the base of her spine and she groaned, deep and loud. He laved the whole of her sex with long strokes from base to tip, the pressure of his tongue hot and sure. Reaching up with one hand, he squeezed her breast, his thumb rolling over her nipple.
Her whole body tensed, waiting for the next long stroke of his tongue, but he surprised her by sucking on her clit instead, licking hard over the tip, the suction and his teeth holding it in place. Her back lifted off the mattress, and she dragged in a deep breath as the orgasm exploded over her, racing up her body, sending fireworks through her, until finally, she slumped, panting, unable to speak.
“And that’s just for starters,” he said, moving up the bed, looking pleased with himself.
She couldn’t have answered if she’d wanted to. She had such a voracious need for him, she wanted to beg him just to take her.
He climbed off the bed, grabbed a condom and rolled it on, then picked her up like she was a doll.
“What are you doing?” she gasped.
“Taking you the way I wanted to when I saw you undressing, trying to hide your body from me. I didn’t like that. You are mine,” he growled.
He bent her over the dresser so her torso was flat on the top of it. He twisted her arms behind her back and pinioned her with one hand, holding her in place. The sexual control he had over her was electric.
Cheek flat on the cool wood, she turned so she could see him. He was standing directly behind her, looking down at her sex with his big cock in his hand, positioning it. He drove into her fast. He waited until she adjusted to his size and started to thrust.
Snatched (Outlaw Warriors) Page 15
