by Elle Aycart
“Not worth it. In less than a month, I would have been out of there anyway. No check from social services, no corner to sleep in for me.”
By the look on Adrian’s face, he wasn’t going to let things stand.
XL lowered his gaze. “And speaking of that, I need a place to stay. Just for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll go to a shelter.”
“Fuck the shelter,” Adrian grunted, then pointed to the hallway. “First door to the left. Park your duffel bag and your ass in that empty room. You’re staying with me, where I can keep an eye on you.”
Rachel cleaned XL’s face while Adrian, once he’d finished with the kid’s chest, moved to disinfect his bloody knuckles. “I see you got some punches in.”
“Not enough,” XL answered.
The doorbell rang, and she hurried to open the door, pretty sure she knew who the newcomers were. Yep. The grannies were standing on the porch.
Adrian looked at them and then turned to Rachel, his gaze accusing. “You called them?”
“Rebecca was a nurse,” she explained as the OGs entered. “I just wanted advice, but they found us.” Which begged the question. “How did you know where we were?” she asked Wilma.
“You remember the tracking app you put on my phone so you’d know where we are at all times? Well, your brother taught me how to install the same one in your cell.”
Oh, her little bro was so dead next time he came to Alden.
Rebecca was in nurse mode, ignoring everyone and going to XL. She took over disinfecting the cuts on his face.
“Oh, poor boy, what happened to you?” Greta asked.
“I had a small disagreement with a coworker,” XL mumbled.
Wilma stood by his side. Rachel caught her trying to pass the taser to XL. “Grandma!” she yelled, outraged. “Where the hell did you have that hidden?”
“Not telling. Anyways, the kiddo needs it more than we do.”
That was true.
Adrian cleared his throat. “What about the taser you brought to the station? Walter told me he has it.”
Wilma shrugged. “You asked us to bring the taser, not all tasers.”
“The devil is in the details, young man,” Greta explained.
“Well, this devil is confiscating this taser too.” He extended his hand to XL, who, looking apologetically at Wilma, handed it over. “XL is on probation, so he can’t carry weapons. And he’s not old enough to have a taser. Is that all the units in your possession, ladies?”
“Yes,” Wilma grudgingly admitted, and turned to XL. “Life is unfair. We get them confiscated for being too old, and you for being too young.”
As Adrian shoved the offending taser in a drawer, Rachel came close to him, and while the rest were busy tending to XL, she softly caressed his chest. “Rain check on the sex, I gather,” she whispered.
Looking disgruntled, he placed his hand over hers and stroked it. “So it seems, Grease Barbie.”
“This cut near the shoulder should be stitched,” Rebecca stated. “Wilma, disinfect a needle and start threading. I don’t see well enough for that, not even with glasses.”
Wilma had been a seamstress all her life; she could thread a needle with her eyes closed. And Rebecca had been an ER nurse for many years. Still. That was eons ago. “Rebecca, your hands aren’t the steadiest anymore,” Rachel warned.
“Don’t worry. A jagged scar gives personality, right, boy?” Before anyone could come up with another excuse, she continued, “And his nose should be set straight. Greta, pass me my glasses. I’m going in.”
XL grimaced. “Are we sure about this?”
They patted his back. “Absolutely. We were great professionals. Once upon a time.”
“I told you, you should have gone to the ER,” Adrian said, grimacing himself. “Never say I didn’t warn you.”
After checking everything was in order at the sheriff’s office, Walter dropped Adrian in front of Rachel’s shop. “Are you sure you don’t need me to drive you anywhere else?”
Adrian leaned into the open window. “Thanks, but I can manage from here. You and Jensen take care of the fort. I’ll be back to work soon.”
It had been almost a week since XL’s beating. The kid still wasn’t in the greatest shape, but he’d been spending his afternoons with Rachel for a while now. Between XL, the OGs, the garage, and Rachel’s stupid dates and trips to Boston, they hadn’t seen much of each other, aside from some stolen moments here and there.
Adrian limped toward the chatter coming from the shop. To his surprise, Ash and Monti were there too, though they didn’t have to be today. They were working on the chassis of an old car that Rachel had asked them to renovate in their spare time.
Before any of the kids noticed him, the low rumble of a motorcycle caught their attention. His too. It was a Harley, and on top of it was Josh, the lead guitarist of Amantis, and Rachel, both talking and laughing.
Fantastic. Amantis was in town. Rachel had no time to meet up with Adrian, but she had all the time in the world to go on joyrides with that famous ass.
The kids were spellbound—by the bike or Josh, he wasn’t sure. Probably both. Now Adrian understood why Ash and Monti were there.
Josh kicked the stand into place.
“Hi,” Rachel greeted Adrian cheerfully. “What are you doing here?”
“Visiting. And you?” he asked, plastering a smile on his face.
She chuckled. “I work here. We went for a ride to check something.”
He crossed his arms. Sure.
“Josh, this is the local sheriff, Adrian,” she introduced them.
“We know each other,” Adrian said curtly, extending his hand. Josh shook it, offering him that sexy smile that melted the panties right off half of America. It did squat for Adrian, aside from worsening his mood.
Josh turned to Rachel and directed his smile at her—with much different results, Adrian figured. “Did you notice the sound?”
So the joyride’s excuse was to inspect some rattle or other. Like they couldn’t check that in the garage. Please.
“Yeah,” she said to Josh, oblivious to Adrian’s treacherous thoughts. “Just leave this beauty here. I’ll have her running smooth in no time. Maximum priority.”
“I thought you were swamped,” Adrian interjected.
She waved her hand in dismissal. So did the three kids. Apparently everyone was dying to work on Josh’s motorcycle. What a surprise.
“I have to be in Boston this evening for some business,” Rachel said, “but first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll start working on her. You can stop by to pick her up in the afternoon.”
“I’ll come in the morning and keep you company while you work on the bike,” Josh suggested. “Deal?”
“Sure.” The thugs were also assenting. Starstruck, the bunch of them.
“I’m going to Boston to see my parents today,” Josh added. “I can drive you there in the Hummer. Are you going where I think you’re going?”
The complicity in Josh’s words rubbed Adrian the wrong way.
Rachel didn’t seem to mind. She let out that husky laugh that drove him insane with lust. “No. And no need, I have it all covered today. Tomorrow evening, though, I have a stupid date in Boston. If you’d give me a ride, we can ensure the bike makes the purring sounds it should—and then I can drink on my date.”
Why the fuck was she explaining all that to Josh? Adrian knew the guitarist always had the maintenance on his bike done in Rachel’s garage, but that was too much familiarity.
“Stupid date?” Josh asked, amused. At her nod, he recommended, “Ditch him. I’ll take his place.”
Adrian tensed, but she didn’t even spare him a glance. “Oh no, no, no,” she answered, laughing and patting his chest. “If the OGs heard about that, they’d never let go of you. I think being groupies for a day is on their bucket list. Being related to someone like you would be a dream come true.”
Josh threw his head back and laughed. Adrian’s kids, Adrian’s,
too. Traitors. “I’m in if you’re in,” Josh said, winking at Rachel, who broke into laughter.
Adrian wasn’t sure if she was flirting or humoring the guy or both. Whatever the case, his patience had a limit. “You seem busy. I’m taking the kids.”
She nodded and continued talking with Josh.
Adrian motioned to the three thugs. “Follow me.” He’d come here originally for XL, but Ash and Monti would benefit from this too.
They went along grudgingly and didn’t stop complaining until they made it to Mike’s gym.
“What are we doing here?” Ash asked, grimacing. “Did Rachel loan us out again?”
XL touched his side. “I’m still recuperating. I can’t deal with the grandmas.”
Right, as if he hadn’t been moving around in Rachel’s garage without any issues.
“No grandmas,” Adrian promised, pushing the three punks toward the tatami where Mike was practicing. “If you want to be free from Tito’s claws and you don’t want to report him for assault, you’re going to have to learn to defend yourselves. Mike will teach you.”
The kids looked at Mike, all bulging muscles, moving smoothly on the tatami.
They snickered. “Sorry, Sheriff,” Ash said, “but we don’t have ten years to go from white belt to black.”
“Neither do I.” Mike stopped his exercises and approached.
Max jumped off the treadmill and walked toward them. His eyes opened wide when he saw XL’s black-and-yellow busted face. Then he turned to Mike. “Did you do that? Because of Sara?”
“No. Not yet,” Mike said, giving XL a cold stare. Kudos to the kid, he didn’t shrink. Most men would have.
“Mike is going to teach them to fight.” The guys were about to complain; Adrian could see it in their faces. “He has so many black belts from so many different martial arts, you don’t have enough fingers among the three of you to count them. And he retired unbeaten from the illegal fighting rings in Boston.”
That last piece of info seemed to interest the boys.
Mike noticed that too. “I’ll teach you to fight dirty and defend yourselves from multiple assailants with an array of weapons. That will give you a fighting chance in very unfavorable circumstances. I want you here every day for at least an hour. And I don’t have any patience for excuses. You waste my time, I’ll make you pay for it.” He walked to the counter, got some sweatpants and shirts, and shoved them at Ash’s chest. “Bring your own clothes next time. Guys’ locker room is that way. Change and start warming up.”
“You’re so toast.” Clapping XL on the back, Max headed for the locker room with them.
Adrian had expected the kids to throw the clothes on the floor and march out, but miracles of all miracles, they obeyed.
While he waited for them to change, several women approached him, asking how his foot was and offering to help with whatever he needed. He was too wound up to utter the usual niceties and got rid of them without much tact. Then he took out his cell, discouraging approaching women by pretending to be in the middle of a conversation.
A low chuckle and a pat on the back made Adrian turn around. It was Cole, who had been training on the weight machines. He pointed at the cell. “Buy yourself some headphones and listen to some music. More effective.”
Cole Bowen should know. He’d done his fair share of shooing—still did, although he’d never been too tactful about it.
“Why do you look so angry, man?”
Fuck if Adrian knew. Well, he knew. He just didn’t want to think about it, much less concede anything. He was cranky from his injury and his sick leave—that was the reason. The official one, at least.
“OGs?” Cole offered.
He shook his head. The OGs had been rather quiet lately after setting XL’s nose straight and stitching him up. Kudos to them, they hadn’t done that badly. XL, of course, had a different opinion, which he’d voiced clearly during the procedure. Rebecca had just shushed him and called him a crybaby.
Cole studied him for a long second. “Rachel?”
That startled Adrian. “What do you mean, Rachel? Rachel what?”
“I see,” Cole answered, cryptic as always.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you see?”
“You’re too defensive, Sheriff. You need to work on your poker face.”
Yeah, his poker face was shit lately. He knew it.
“You’ve never been seen with Rachel before, unless you were on duty and dealing with some OG business. During the last few weeks, you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with her. And don’t give me bullshit about checking in on your thugs or her helping out because of that foot. I saw the way you looked at her at the barbecue and movie night. You have a motherfucking hard-on for her.”
Adrian harrumphed, not ready to confess. “Could be. We have a… certain arrangement. A strictly physical one. No exclusivity or strings attached.” Not fully consummated either, thanks to all the interruptions and the lack of time and opportunity, but an arrangement nevertheless.
Cole snorted. “So you’re trying to work her out of your system and not risk your heart.” Adrian nodded. “I went through something similar when I met Christy.”
“And?”
“Didn’t work,” Cole acknowledged. “Obviously. Other guys started moving in on her, and I went ballistic. Is that what’s happening here?”
Josh’s easy smile and familiarity with Rachel popped into Adrian’s mind, making him see red. He took a deep breath and shook that image away.
That wouldn’t happen to Adrian. He was going to keep his cool. Let her meet whomever she wanted; it wasn’t his business. As long as she made time for him, it was all good.
There was nothing like riding a Harley: the wind in her face, the low purr of the motor, the smell of leather that invariably came from the driver—in this case, Josh.
“A pity that it’s only a thirty-minute ride from Alden to Boston,” Rachel told him as he turned off the engine.
“We can make a small detour—say, through Philly,” he offered, kicking the stand down. “We have to catch up. There’s a lot going on in your life.”
“Please. We talk on the phone every month when you’re not in Boston.”
“It might be called FaceTime, but it’s not real face time. Just say the word, princess, and I’ll take you away.”
She got off the bike and smiled. “Princess. Most people around here call me Grease Barbie.”
“Nothing sexier than a woman working on an engine. I can attest to that; I’ve spent the whole day looking at you do exactly that.”
True. As he’d promised, Josh had come to the shop first thing in the morning and had stayed the whole day, talking and laughing with her and her thugs, who’d also happened to arrive en masse at an early hour. Adrian had shown up with lunch, but Josh had already ordered takeout, so they’d ended up pigging out. Except the sheriff, who had dropped the food and bailed, looking sour.
“The OGs did a good job,” Josh continued. “You look fantastic.”
“You joking?”
“Of course not. You look gorgeous and those grandmas are the bomb.”
She was wearing the same dress as last time. With Josh in Wilma’s place, gently directing the OGs, he’d managed to get Greta to tone down the makeup and the accessories, all without a single threat. Rachel still had the Second World War vibe to her, but at least she hadn’t had to stop by the garage for a salvage operation.
“Do you really think they’re the bomb? Most people find them difficult to deal with.”
“Most people aren’t me,” Josh replied and looked at the bar. “So, who’s the fortunate one tonight?”
She followed his gaze. There were two guys sitting alone, but she couldn’t see their faces. “Given my previous experiences, the one who’s the weirdest. That’s mine.”
Josh laughed. Some people seemed to have recognized him, because they’d started to gather around, murmuring.
“You need to leave,�
�� she whispered. “Before they begin to snap pics and we make the front page tomorrow.”
He winked at her, looking even more irresistible than usual. Thank God she’d grown immune to his charms in the year they’d known each other. “Dump the weirdo. Let’s go for a ride.”
“Can’t, sweetie.” If she blew this date, the OGs might try NASCAR. She kissed him on the cheek and shooed him away. “Go.”
She had taken only two steps toward the bar when someone grabbed her by the forearm. It was Adrian.
“Sheriff?”
“Come with me,” he ordered, dragging her away.
“But—” She was too stunned to resist.
“Wait a second,” she heard. Josh appeared by her side, holding her other arm, stopping them. “Princess, is everything okay here?”
“Remove your hand from her,” Adrian bit out, “right this fucking instant.”
Josh didn’t budge, Adrian was losing patience, and everyone was looking at them and pulling out their cells.
Crap. Gently and with an apologetic smile, she freed herself from Josh’s grip and, throwing Adrian a dirty look, dared him not to let go. He did. “Don’t worry, Josh. It’s all good. Thanks for driving me here. I’ve got this covered.”
He wasn’t a pushover though. “Sure?”
She nodded and, relieved that Josh trusted her judgment, followed Adrian to a car. Of all the possible outcomes, going along with whatever bug had crawled up his ass would be the least messy.
“Get in,” he ordered curtly.
She sighed and obeyed. Better to talk in private. “I’m already late for my date, Boomer. What do you want? And since when are you allowed to drive?”
“Since now. You can forget about the damn date,” he grunted as the engine roared to life and they sped out. “And shut up. Do not aggravate me any more.”
Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? She thought about reading him the riot act, but frankly, her date wasn’t worth the fuss. She took out her cell, typed out an apology to Henry, the new prospect, and tried to reschedule. Adrian might have guessed what she was doing, because he grabbed the phone and threw it out the window. They’d already made it to the highway, so the sound didn’t even reach them as her cell splintered into a thousand pieces.
