Entangled By You (The Viper’s MC #2)

Chapter 1

MONDAYEST MONDAY EVER

LEXI

It’s always the same: “Can I get this in a different size?” And, of course, that stupid size is never within reach.

My core tightens as I stretch, trying to keep myself balanced as I wobble and reach as high as possible.

Being five-one on a good day, even with the addition of my favorite platform sandals, isn’t enough.

My fingertips brush the edge of the shelf, but there’s no hope of snagging the stack of jeans perched tauntingly up there.

“Here, let me grab that for you.”

The deep timbre of his voice rolls across my skin like distant thunder, and the heat radiating from his body seeps right through my thin cotton dress. The unexpected closeness to an unknown male jolts me backward, crashing into his firm chest.

“Whoa, there. Sorry about that.”

I whirl around, startled by his presence, and shove against the first solid thing my hands touch—him. Leave it to my brain to not process the situation quickly enough.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” I squeak. “I didn’t realize it was you, Officer.”

“No harm, Ms. Kane. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” His kind smile does nothing to calm the wild thrum of my heart.

He holds out the stack of jeans between us like a peace offering. I snatch them up, giving my nervous fingers something to dig into.

“Excuse me, I need to go help my customer.”

He tips his hat and steps aside, but I don’t hear the distinct clomp of boot sounds fading toward the exit. I heave in a deep breath and plaster my fake customer service smile back on my face.

“Here we go. These are the other sizes we currently have in this style. Let me know if you’d like to try them on.” I drop the stack on the table next to where she’s browsing our new arrivals.

When I turn around, he’s still there, just as I expected. He leans casually against the front counter, right where I need to be. These weekly drop-ins are getting old. I don’t know how many times I can tell the police I don’t know where Evan is.

“You’re still here,” I say, more chipper than I actually am, but that’s the Lexi everyone expects me to be.

“I just wanted to follow up and see if you’d heard from Mr. Montgomery.”

“Like I told you and the other officer who stopped in last week, no, I haven’t heard from Evan. I don’t know why he went to South America. We broke up a while ago. Why do you guys keep harassing me, especially at work?” My irritation bleeds through, and he takes notice.

“The mayor just wants his son to come home. If he’s in trouble, you can tell us, or we can arrange a meeting with the mayor, and you can tell him directly.”

“Oh my Go—”

“Ma’am?”

My wonderfully needy customer interrupts what was bound to be a mini tirade on the local police department’s use of their taxpayer-funded time.

I don’t trust myself to speak. Instead, I hold up a finger and head across the boutique.

“None of these are the size I needed. Are you sure there’s none in the back?” she asks with the attitude of someone who’s never worked a day in her life but thinks she knows better than the employee helping her out.

I take back my compliment. What a bitch.

“As a small, local boutique, we keep our stock on the floor. Unfortunately, if we don’t have your size here, we don’t have it. I can look and see if I can order it for you. You can pick it up in-store, or we can ship it directly to you for free.”

She harrumphs as if it’s my fault Bethany May is too cheap to keep more than one size of something in the store at a time.

“I’ll just order them online. What good is having a boutique in this town if I still have to order online anyway?”

She spins on her heels, her overly bleached platinum hair slapping me in the face.

I take quiet satisfaction in knowing she probably spent thousands on that dye job, while mine’s natural.

Her Prada slingbacks clack across the stone floor as she storms off.

I cross my arms tightly, more for comfort than defiance, and watch her go.

Officer Thorne—fittingly named since he’s been a thorn in my side for weeks—watches the scene keenly. Always lingering. Always observing. For what? I have no idea. I’ve said all I need to say to him.

“Have a great rest of your day,” I call out when she’s already through the front door, knowing full well she won’t hear me.

It’s the little things that help me find a sliver of joy in the monotony of my life.

Doing my best to ignore his suffocating presence, I crouch down to tuck the picked-over stack of jeans on a lower shelf and catalog everything I now have to refold because she left the display a mess.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you, Ms. Kane,” he says as he knocks on the counter. I finally glance up, just in time to catch him tipping his hat before he walks out.

The bells tied to the door handle jingle again, and I sigh in relief when he disappears down the sidewalk. The smooth, comforting voice of my man, Johnny Cash, keeps me company, playing low over the sound system.

This is not how I wanted to start my week.

But then again, what has gone my way lately?

I don’t know what deity I pissed off or how, but I need my luck to change.

The gray cloud that's been hanging over me for weeks refuses to lift. Ever since that night with Evan, everything’s been a mess.

And now, I don’t even have my best friend to wallow with since she shacked up with my brother.

I’m happy for them… Well, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. I tolerate their insane decision to stay married. I still don’t quite understand the situation because both of them have been weirdly evasive about the details, but every time I bring it up, they both tell me not to worry about it.

Right, “don’t worry about it” has always helped people with anxiety not to worry about something.

The bells on the door chime again, and I’m ready to rip them off the handle. It’s turning into a busier morning than usual, but I’d rather be busy than left alone with my dark thoughts.

“Hi, welcome to Sable and Sa—” I cut my greeting off when I see the man my regrets are made of walk through the door. My heart stops. “What the fuck are you doing here, Pierce?”

“Why was he in here, Lex?”

“Nuh-uh,” I snap, finally getting my breath back. “You don’t get to barge in here and start demanding answers that are none of your damn business. Why are you here?” I ask while angrily finishing up my last fold.

Pierce ignores my little outburst—he was always too damn good at that—before striding across the shop’s floor and stopping way too close for my heart's comfort.

“Answer the question, Lexi.”

“You answer mine first!”

It takes everything in me not to stomp my foot like a petulant child. It’s annoying that he brings that side out of me within seconds. It’s like my brain and body recognize his presence, and they automatically revert to my sixteen-year-old self.

His fingers shoot out toward my face, and I flinch instinctively. I hate how easily it’s become second nature now. His hand freezes immediately, hanging in the air between us uncertainly.

“Princess,” he whispers, soft and coaxing, like I’m a terrified fawn separated from her mama in the woods, as his fingers ghost against my cheek.

“Don’t,” I choke out, emotion clogging my throat at the nickname I haven’t heard from his lips for over half a decade.

His fierce gaze holds mine prisoner, and it doesn’t matter that we haven’t been in the same room in years until recently.

He still has the same tells as when we were teens.

The tips of his ears—peeking through his mess of dirty blond hair—flush red as he waits for an answer.

His usually golden-brown eyes darken like soil after a summer storm.

Still, it’s his attention that doesn’t relent until he gets exactly what he’s digging for that I recognize immediately. He’s like a dog with a bone.

“What did he want?”

Huffing out an annoyed sigh, I finally gather the strength to step back and lean against the wall, needing its strength to hold me up in his presence.

“The same thing they’ve all wanted since Evan disappeared. I’m getting really fucking sick of them popping up everywhere. I know this town is stupidly small, but it’s like they’re lurking around every corner.”

“They’ve been harassing you?” he growls.

“Yeah. Kind of like you’re doing right now.” I can’t help but sass back. It’s easier than thinking he might actually care.

“Seems you haven’t changed, huh?” he asks.

He mutters something under his breath, too low for me to catch, and shakes his head. Just like that, he drops the conversation like a hot coal.

Before I can argue or defend myself against his judgmental ass, he’s halfway across the room and pushing out through the door, leaving me in his wake with the whisper of that statement hanging around my neck.

Me not changing in his eyes is a good thing. After everything I did, the way I ended and left things… I just wish he knew why.