Sinful Protector

by Mia Ford

  Would he have hurt me? I would have said ‘no’, right up until the moment he grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me against the fence. He had been incredibly drunk, yes, but that was definitely no excuse. I’ve seen Jesse far drunker than that, and he had never before laid a hand on me.

  But… I cast my mind back. Shouldn’t that be more of a surprise? I know exactly how violent Jesse is. I’m probably the only person in his life who he hasn’t hit before. When alcohol hits his system, he becomes cruel and prone to lashing out with his fists. But, during his arguments, he always took that violence out on our furniture instead, and I became comfortable in the idea that I was safe from him.

  I’m not Jesse’s girlfriend anymore, though. Was that title the only thing that had held him back? Now that that’s gone… Well, he obviously didn’t hesitate to lay a hand on me last night.

  Does that mean I’m not safe from him anymore?

  I shake the paranoid thought from my mind immediately. I meant what I said to Kyle. Jesse is foolish and cowardly. He faces his problems when they come to him, but otherwise, he prowls around his apartment and growls about it because he refuses to deal with it on his own. No, Jesse won’t track me down to get some sort of stupid revenge on me. He wouldn’t even think to do it.

  “It’s fine,” I assure Jacqui. “It was just a surprise, that’s all. Jesse hasn’t changed a bit, and I don’t have to think about him anymore. After Kyle punched him, he probably ran off with his tail between his legs, and he’s hiding out at his apartment now, cursing both of us. It’ll be fine.”

  Jacqui gives me a look. It’s familiar because it’s the same look Kyle gave me last night, when I tried to assure him that Jesse wouldn’t come after me again. It’s a look that told me neither of them believed me, that they preferred to believe the worst of Jesse instead.

  But I’m the one that dated Jesse for two years. I think I know best in this sort of situation.

  “Okay,” Jacqui says after a long moment. “Just be careful, okay?”

  “Of course,” I say with a smile.

  It would all be fine. I can take care of myself, after all, and I definitely don’t need protecting from stupid, cowardly Jesse.

  Chapter Six

  Kyle

  Old Man Brooks raises a disapproving eyebrow at me.

  “Something on your mind, boy?” he asks.

  I twitch. I’m twenty-nine, so I’m hardly a “boy”, despite the huge age difference between me and Brooks. Still, I let him get away with it because the old man signs my paycheck and was the one that picked me up and gave me a job in the first place. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, after all.

  “No,” I say.

  Brooks glares at me, definitely not believing me. I can’t say I blame him; I’ve been distracted all day.

  Which is hardly my fault. Even while I was trying not to think about it, it was difficult not to remember the feel of Allison’s silky, smooth skin, the way her body moved against mine or the burning look in her eyes.

  Brooks snorts, and I realize that my mind is wandering again. I cough awkwardly.

  “I know that look on your face,” the old man says, rolling his eyes. “Who is she, then, and why haven’t I met her yet?”

  I look at him dumbly.

  “Huh?” I ask.

  “The girl you’re so smitten with,” Brooks says.

  I haven’t blushed in years. It’s something of a pride thing with me, since it’s so hard to embarrass me, normally. At Brooks’ words, however, I feel a flush rising over my skin, and I slide back under the black car I’ve been working on.

  “There’s no one,” I say to him, feeling a little better now that I don’t have to see the intrigued look in Brooks’ eyes.

  “I might be old, but I’m not a fool,” Brooks snorts.

  “I’m not lying,” I insist. “Look, there was a woman, last night, but it was literally just a one-night thing. I don’t even have her number.”

  Brooks is silent and I think I’ve won. Then something hard whacks me around the ankles.

  “Ow!” I yelp, and slide out from under the car again. Brooks is holding a metal pipe. “What was that for?”

  “For being a fucking idiot,” Brooks says bluntly. “If you’re that interested in her, why didn’t you at least leave your number?”

  “Well…” I clear my throat. “She… Look, she wasn’t in her right mind, exactly, she was fucking throwing herself at me to try and forget her ex…and I figured she’d probably regret it, so I left before she woke up.”

  “Not in her right mind?” Brooks asks with narrowed eyes.

  “I didn’t take advantage!” I assure him quickly. “I even tried to push her away and tell her to stop but…”

  It had been really fucking hard, alright? How was I was supposed to resist when she was wriggling against me like that, doing everything in her power to make me lose control? It wasn’t that I hadn’t wanted her, I did, so much, and I definitely tried to make her reconsider, but eventually I just gave it up as a lost cause and went with the flow. As such, we had an amazing night.

  An amazing night that wouldn’t be getting a repeat.

  “It’s fine,” I say as Brooks thinks about my words. “I told her where I work and I know where she lives. If either of us wants to find each other, we know how to. But…” I shrug. “It was just one night, old man. Nothing special.”

  “Right,” Brooks snorts. “And I’m a cucumber.”

  He turns to wander away. I watch his retreating back, confused. I really shouldn’t ask. I know the old man is setting a trap for me. But…

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  It’s impossible not to fall for it, sometimes, especially when I’m too curious for my own good.

  “You have to ask?” Brooks asks. “Then you’re stupider than you look, boy.”

  I scowl. It’s a familiar insult. Brooks and I spend half our days trading insults back and forth, trying to get the better of each other. This one, however, feels real.

  “I’m not stupid,” I snap.

  “So, you’re going to sit there and say that this girl means nothing when you’ve spent the entire day thinking about her?” Brooks demands.

  Well… When he puts it like that...

  “I don’t even know her,” I tell him. “If I’m smitten with anything, it’s just with her body. It’s just fucking lust, it’ll go away.”

  Brooks rolls his eyes at me.

  “Fine, fine,” he says, clearly not believing me. “Just finish up that car and go home; your work today has been all over the place, so clear your head and come back for the next shift ready to think only about cars. When are you back?”

  “After the weekend,” I say, remembering my calendar.

  “Good, you have a few days to get it off your system,” Brooks says.

  He wanders off, muttering to himself. I shake my head and roll back under the car. I don’t really know exactly what Brooks was getting at but, if it has anything to do with having feelings for Allison, then he’s completely wrong.

  It’s just lust for a beautiful stranger. That’s all.

  Having gotten off work early, it’s still mid-afternoon when I wander into the Anchor Bar. Only one person is there, standing behind the bar as he sorts bottles and hums along to the music playing on the radio. He stares as I approach, blinking at me in confusion before he smiles.

  “Kyle!” Grant Johnson says. “What are you doing here so early?”

  “Old Man Brooks told me to take the rest of the afternoon off,” I say, sitting on one of the stools. “You working tonight?”

  “Yeah, I’ve only just clocked on,” Grant says, glancing at the clock. “It’ll be a long night, that’s for sure.” He smiles. There’s something giddy about his expression and it takes me a moment longer than I want to admit to remember that we all have something to celebrate. “But that’s fine.”

  “How long did you guys celebrate last night?” I ask.

  “Wa
y past the time I normally close,” Grant laughs. “It was Wednesday, so I normally close around the time you left, but word spread quickly and…” He laughs again. “Extra hours for me, anyway! Even Tom hung around.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m sure he did.”

  Grant grins at me. It’s normally best to keep Tom and me as far away from each other as possible. While Tom rubs most people the wrong way, the two of us are so completely different that we clash every time we meet.

  “So, anyway, any particular reason you clocked off early today?” Grant asks, pouring me a beer and sliding it over to me. “You were complaining just yesterday about working long hours.”

  “Was I?” I muttered. I scowled into the glass. “Brooks thought my head was in the fucking clouds.”

  Which, admittedly, it was. I’m not surprised Brooks noticed how distracted I’d been.

  “Over the house?” Grant asked.

  I looked at him, startled. Damn it, I could have told Brooks that that was what I was thinking of! But I’d completely forgotten about it.

  For several months, the Roughshod Rollers, a group of motorcycle enthusiasts, had been fighting against a corrupt councilman for the rights to use a house that had once belonged to one of our departed members. After his mother died, the house had become ownerless, and we had scrambled, unsuccessfully, to raise enough money to buy it ourselves. Originally, it was due to be torn down to make room for a small store in the next week or so.

  Then Alex Howard, one of our members and a private detective, smart bastard that he is, had come through with enough information to expose the councilman’s shitty dealings. We’re still waiting to hear the final outcome, but the case is now in the hands of the police, and Alex is angling to get the house donated from the no-doubt embarrassed council. He’s sly enough, too, that he’ll get what he wants.

  And once we have it back in our grasp, we’ll be able to use that money to finally fix the place up. It’s old and falling down, and it’s about time it gets a new coat of paint.

  “It’s great that we won,” I say, avoiding the question. “Have you heard anything from Alex?”

  “Nothing,” Grant says. His eyes narrow slightly. Grant is an amazing bartender; he sits for several nights a week and listens to everyone’s problems, and gives them either advice or a swift kick up the rear, depending on the situation. He’s also very good at reading body language and drawing secrets out of people. “What’s going on with you?”

  I should have known better than to try to hide it from this guy, I think with a roll of my eyes. At least I’m the only one here and, if it has to be anyone, I’m not opposed to confiding in Grant.

  Besides, I feel like I’m about to burst. I need to talk to someone about all this.

  “Something…happened on my way home last night,” I admit. “I ran across a man threatening a woman. Turned out he was her ex and he hadn’t taken well to breaking up.”

  Remembering the burning insanity in Jesse’s eyes, I can’t help but think that that’s the fucking understatement of the year.

  “Okay…?” Grant says slowly.

  “I got her out of there,” I say with a shrug, taking a long sip of my beer. “Her name was Allison. Witty. She’s a law student.”

  Grant looks a little confused. I sigh.

  “One thing led to another,” I say gruffly. “I went back to her apartment.”

  Grant’s expression clears. Slowly, he puts down his glass.

  “You slept with a woman that had just been assaulted by her ex-boyfriend?” he asks.

  Put like that it sounds fucking horrible. I huff and glare at him. Both Grant and Brooks have assumed I’ve done something wrong here, and I feel personally insulted by it.

  “She came onto me,” I snapped. “And I made sure it was what she wanted. I’d like to see how well you would have held up under something like that.”

  The consternation drops from Grant’s face. The smirk that is forming on his lips, however, isn’t much better.

  “So this Allison is what you were distracted by at work?” he asks, and it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

  I glower at him. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.

  “It was just a one-night-stand,” I growl. “It’s nothing to get all worked up over.”

  “I’m not the one getting worked up, here,” Grant points out. “You’re the one getting defensive.”

  I snort. “Shut the fuck up. Look, it was nothing. She needed comfort, we both wanted sex, we slept together, I left this morning. No big deal.”

  “Who are you trying to convince; you or me?” Grant teases.

  I glare at him again. Damn it, he’s not going to let this go, now. Grant raises his hands in apparent surrender.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “It just surprised me, is all.” He pauses. “But, in all seriousness…why is the woman playing on your mind so much?”

  I wish I could answer that question. She was beautiful, no doubt about it. She was also strong-willed and more than capable of going after what she wanted. She’s also very much out of my league.

  So I just shrug. There’s no reason for me to constantly be thinking about this. The night is over now, and we’ve both gone back to our regular lives.

  “It was just one night,” I repeat.

  “Yeah, but you normally don’t get like this over one night,” Grant points out. “Is it because you didn’t pick her up at the bar?” He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Or is this about your big macho protective thing that you have going on?”

  “What?” I ask, startled. “What big macho protective thing?”

  “You, my friend, have a tendency to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong, and you’re a sucker for protecting others,” Grant says, shrugging. “It’s why you’ll never get along with Tom. It’s not a bad thing, but maybe you’ve seen this woman as someone you want to protect, and that’s why you can’t get her out of her head.”

  I want to protest. It sounds absolutely ridiculous. But then I remember the fear in Allison’s eyes as Jesse advanced on her, the fear that had spurred me to act in the first place.

  “You make it sound like I get a fucking rush from saving people,” I say gruffly, looking into my beer.

  “Don’t you?” Grant grins. “Don’t worry about it so much, Kyle. Besides, I’m sure Allison was grateful.”

  Was she? I vaguely remember her thanking me for both the help and for punching the ex.

  What did any of it matter, anyway? I helped Allison, we wound up tumbling into bed because we were both a little drunk and very stupid, and now we’ve parted ways. She’s probably forgotten all about last night by now.

  I take another long sip of my beer, wondering why that thought irritates me.

  “Are you going to call her?” Grant asks with a smile, teasing again now.

  I shoot him a glare. “I don’t have her fucking number.”

  “Really?” Grant asks. He laughs. “Well, you know where she lives, you could always just knock on her door…”

  “No, thanks,” I snap. “I’m not going to be that psycho who chases a woman after having sex with her once. Just leave it, Grant. Sorry I said anything in the first place.”

  I don’t know why I’m suddenly so angry. Grant stares at me, frowning in thought, and I hunch my shoulders slightly before draining the rest of my beer. Then the bartender smiles and nods.

  “Whatever works for you,” he says cheerfully. “Any plans for the night?”

  “Getting drunk,” I say, pointedly sliding my empty mug over to him.

  “Sure, as long as you order something to eat, too,” Grant laughs. “Want some hot fries?”

  I want to say no. But my stomach rumbles before I can and I scowl.

  “Fine,” I say with a huff.

  Grant laughs and goes out the back, presumably to put some fries in the fryer. I huff and prop my head on my hand. Somehow, it feels like it’s going to be a long night.

  Chapter Seven

&nbs
p; Kyle

  I’m decently tipsy by the time others start trickling into the bar, and I wave to some that I recognize. Several people clap me on the back in greeting or in congratulations for getting our house back before settling in booths, at tables or somewhere along the bar.

  Then an arm drapes over my shoulders.

  “Did you put on more muscle?” a voice gasps in mock shock.

  I roll my eyes and turn to face Ethan Martin. The man is loud and occasionally obnoxious, but he’s kind to everyone, and one of his favorite pastimes is talking about his daughter, Lily, who is adorable. Last night, he left earlier than I did, going home at around seven-thirty so he could see his daughter before she went to sleep.

  He’s a good dad.

  Though…

  “Hey, Ethan,” I say. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

  “Georgia was annoyed with me coming home early yesterday,” Ethan says, rolling his eyes as he drops his arm. “She said she offered to babysit so I could have a real night out, not so I could hang for an hour and then come home. So she kicked me out of the house and told me to come back after a few hours.” He grins, mischievous. “I’m going to give it two.”

  I chortle. Georgia Turner, Ethan’s feisty childhood friend, should really know him better than that. The man is an expert in finding loopholes just so he can piss people off.

  “Anyway, enough about me,” Ethan says, his eyes gleaming in a way that makes me instantly wary. “Who’s the babe that Grant says you’re seeing?”

  I shoot the bartender a betrayed look. He shrugs back with an innocent smile.

  “I’m not seeing anyone,” I deny through gritted teeth. “It was a one-night thing.”

  “That I would believe if you didn’t pick her up off the street,” Ethan says airily.

  “Don’t say that; it makes her sound like a fucking hooker,” I protest.

  “Oh, so she wasn’t?” Ethan asks, pretending to be surprised. “That means it was something special, right?”