17. You Arent Safe

Chapter 17

You Aren't Safe

Whitney

Finn, Mensa, and Gamble brought in my sofa, setting it against the wall opposite my flat screen television.

“How is this the last thing to move?” Gamble asked.

I smiled. “Because it was the first thing we moved out of Jackson. First in is the last out.”

“Yeah,” Gamble whispered.

I held up a six-pack. “All I have is Sam Adam’s Summer Ale. Or I can go buy a twelve pack of whatever you like.”

“No, Sam Adam’s is great,” Finn said, grabbing a bottle and digging his key chain out of his pocket. I noticed a bottle opener dangling from the ring.

Gamble waved the beer away. “I gotta go.” He winked at me. “Besides, you don’t owe me for this, Mensa does.”

“Riley dropped me here, she should be around soon,” Finn said.

Gamble wandered out, and I looked around my living room. “I’m gonna need a bigger apartment.”

Mensa chuckled. “You get rid of a piece of furniture, and it’ll be fine.”

I pointed at a small tweed love seat. “That can go. It was Wyatt’s, before he went all leather.”

Finn put his beer down. “Let’s go, Mensa. We’ll take it out.”

Mensa nodded, but pinned his gaze on me. “After this, I’m gonna take Har’s truck back and ride my bike over here. You can come with me.”

I arched my brows. “I’ll stay here. Get a box or three unpacked.”

He shot me a hard stare. “Then Finn and Riley stay until I’m back.”

I pressed my lips together. “I can take care of myself, Mensa. The door will be locked, too.”

He shook his head. “I’m not taking chances here, Blume.”

“I’d rather not keep Finn and Riley here. He’s helped out plenty.”

“Then we both go to Har’s. Have you met Stephanie?”

I nodded slowly. “Briefly. I’m not trying to be antisocial, Mensa. Moving sucks, and the faster I unpack, the less it’ll be on my mind.”

Finn’s eyes darted to Mensa for a second, then he cocked a brow at me. “Not that I disagree with you, but humor him. It’s a twenty-minute ride round trip.”

I offered him a wan smile. “Which means I’m looking at an hour if I have to make small talk.”

Finn shrugged a shoulder. “He wants to keep you safe. Can’t fault him for that.”

Was I really going to be with a biker?

That was a stupid question. He called me his woman, and I’d almost called him my man. We were doing this, and the least I could do was appease his protective ways.

“Fine. I’ll ride with Mensa.”

Finn smiled – it was sexy, but it lacked the mischievous quality of Mensa’s. “Good choice. Stephanie won’t bend your ear too much anyway. Hell, she could be working tonight.”

After Mensa and Finn hauled the love seat out to the dumpster, I grabbed my purse, and locked the door.

The moment Mensa drove his bike toward the Gulf, irritation coursed through my veins. I tapped on his shoulder as he put his Harley in a higher gear. “What are you doing? I need to go home!”

When he stopped at a red light a few minutes later, he looked over his shoulder. “Woman, you also gotta eat and we didn’t hit the store. We’re headed to Dontrell’s for a gyro.”

Funny how being hangry could sneak up on me. I’d been hungry when I brought in the last moving box, then I'd forced food out of my mind at Har’s place.

“Fine,” I muttered.

His body shook with laughter.

“Don’t gloat,” I said right when traffic started to move.

Minutes later, we walked into DeeLight’s and I froze at the angry look Donny aimed at us.

“Houston, you aren’t safe with him.”

I laughed. “Not sure if I’m safe with any man these days – at least that’s what my father tells me.” Donny’s expression softened and I smiled. “How are you holding up?”

The way he eyed Mensa, I suspected I’d get anything but a straight answer. “Been as busy as the first day I opened. Never realized how much people care.”

His honesty floored me.

“Now you know,” I said with a smile.

Donny exhaled through his nose. “The investigators think I did it. You believe that shit?”

My stomach plummeted and I kept myself from nodding. “It’s unfortunate, but insurance companies often look at owners first. Sort of like how spouses are top suspects in domestic murders.”

Mensa edged closer to the counter. “Didn’t you tell them about the Corrupt Chrome MC and Rod’s threat to you?”

Dontrell’s eyes hardened. “You don’t have kids. Not gonna do a damn thing that puts my son in danger.”

“You being in jail puts him in more danger,” Mensa countered.

They were both right.

“Be honest with the investigators, Donny,” I said.

“Something happens to Demetrius, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You got a decent lawyer?” Mensa asked.

“You gonna refer me to somebody?” Donny asked, aiming severe side-eye at Mensa.

“He might. His lawyer helped me out,” I said.

Donny gave me a stern look. “You know that’s different.”

Mensa cleared his throat. “President of my club has ties to the Biloxi Fire Department. Good chance he knows someone who can help.”

Donny ignored that. “You here for food or what?”

I nodded and placed my order.

We carried four bags of groceries into my apartment.

Straightening from the crisper drawer, and closing the fridge, I turned to Mensa. “Did you mean what you said to Donny? Har might be able to help him?”

“Yes.”

The trepidation in his tone raised my hackles. “Why do you say it like that? Donny’s already in a really bad position. The worst thing you can do is offer false hope.”

Mensa set a box of pasta on the counter and faced me. “You can throw a drowning man a rope, but he’s still gotta grab hold and help you help him.”

“I get that, but—”

“If he’s secretive, no lawyer or fire department contact is going to help.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Mensa twisted up his hands. “I’m pretty sure Har can help. But I get the feeling there’s more we don’t know.”

“Like what? Demetrius is being threatened. Donny lost a restaurant. You think he’s in a position to retaliate?”

“It has to have crossed his mind. I may not have kids, but someone threatens the people I love, I want my pound of flesh.”

“Right,” I whispered.

“Why are you so protective of him?” Mensa asked, coming closer.

I put a hand on my hip. “Do you have the slightest idea how hard it is to run a small business? Add in the hurdles of being a minority… it isn’t right what’s happened to him. He’s a great man, Mensa.”

Mensa’s head tilted. “You haven’t even known him very long, have you?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know that about him?”

I shot him a pointed look. “Are you saying I’m wrong?”

“No. I’m surprised you know so much about him.”

I shrugged. “He and I have chatted a little, but it’s hardly ever small talk with him. I tend to be cynical after being with the Bureau, but I believe in my instincts. Mine tell me Donny’s a great person.”

Mensa nodded ever so slowly while stalking closer to me. He wrapped an arm around my waist. “Your instincts are right.”

I slid my hands up his chest. “I’m glad you think so.”

His other arm came around my shoulders and he drove his hand into the hair at the back of my head. “I know it’s been one helluva long day. Moving sucks, and we’re both tired.”

All of that was true, so I kept quiet.

He lowered his face toward mine. “Know what I like the most about your apartment?”

My breasts were pressed up against his warm torso, and I stared into his heated, brown eyes. “I don’t know.”

He started walking us toward my bedroom. “The fact your bedroom doesn’t share a wall with anyone else’s unit.”

I chuckled. “Okay… not what I expected, and that is rather specific.”

His lips grazed along my jaw before he lifted his head. “That means you can be loud…and I can’t wait to make you moan my name.”

“I have neighbors downstairs,” I breathed since his lips had hit that spot right behind my ear that felt really freaking good.

He pulled back and shook his head. “Nope. That unit’s vacant. I checked.”

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