Chapter Five #2
As he drew closer, his face came into focus more, the dots disappearing with every blink I took until I saw the narrowing of his eyes and the anger creased across his face.
“Returning him to where he belongs, sweetheart. I think you misplaced him. I don’t take in strays.
Especially ones who are trying to steal my fucking money. ”
His voice was deep, gravelly and full of danger.
Any other time, I’m pretty sure I would have backed down and walked away, but I couldn’t do either.
He had his hands on my fifteen-year-old brother, and that maternal instinct that had been so strong hours earlier was now raging inside of me, clawing to get control and march over there.
As we circled slowly, I found myself delved into the shadows, which forced Tate, and the man with him, into the illumination of the headlights.
There was no denying he was gorgeous in some rough and rugged way.
The swelling on his face screamed trouble, even if his eyes were narrowed enough to give them the appearance of being closed.
The leather vest he wore gave away his identity.
He was part of the MC, and from the scowl he was now wearing, he was pissed.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded, my hands gripping the thin material on my waist, my discomfort shifting me from one leg to another.
I knew I sounded less than intelligent, but the longer we stood there staring at one another, the angrier I became.
This was my problem. Not his. “Just let him go. He’s a kid.
I’m pretty sure you’re capable of having a conversation without manhandling someone.
He’s home now. He’s not going anywhere.”
It was hard to miss the way the guy’s lips twitched to one side before he pushed the top of Tate’s back even harder, forcing his body to stumble forward and for my brother to lose his balance in front of the two of us.
And it was obvious he found this whole thing amusing, even though his face was set like stone and his murderous eyes were aimed directly at me.
“Manhandling him? This isn't manhandling him, blondie. Do you have any idea what I would normally do to someone I found crawling under my bed like a fucking rat?” The stranger took a step closer, his chin lowering farther to his chest as his voice dropped to a growl and all the humor fell from his face. “You’re lucky he’s able to feel his legs, let alone use them. ”
My eyes flickered between the man and Tate. None of this made sense to me at all. What the hell would Tate have been doing under this guy’s bed?
There was no denying the threat this man issued was anything but an empty one.
The leather, the tattoos, and the scars told me he wasn’t someone I wanted to piss off, yet, it didn’t stop me from running my mouth.
After the day I’d had, I was sick to death of dealing with bullies, and I’d had enough of the bad luck that continued to plague us.
The shit was no longer going to hit our fan.
I was going to keep the thing polished and out of sight.
“Tate, explain so we can say goodbye to this…” I looked him up and down, the pool of words dwindling with each one that filtered through my mind. In the end I stayed polite. “Gentleman.”
Tate’s eyes widened, and for a moment, pride swelled in my chest as he looked between the stranger and me, seemingly unsure who was more pissed off with him.
I would have hazarded a guess it was me, but the respect that flashed in his eyes as he turned to the guy next to him made me mad enough to spit.
“Listen, man, please, just let me explain.”
“What? I don’t exist now?” I asked, my hip dropping to the side. “Tate Michael Hanagan, just you remember who the adult is here, and I would be very fucking careful how you respond to that.”
The laughter from Mr. YMCA had me turning back to him. “Oh, you think this is funny?”
He closed his eyes while he took his time to scratch his damn eyebrow, acting like there was no rush to answer mine or anybody else’s questions.
When his eyes opened again and his arm dropped down by his side, I felt his gaze fall to the tips of my toes before it crawled slowly up my legs, over my chest, eventually landing back on my face. “And what if I do?”
Of all the arrogant, ignorant, and…
Sucking in a calming breath and stopping the moment I felt his eyes on my breasts through my thin shirt, I let my eyes meet his.
“Look, I realize that this little asshole—who, for the record, is drunk off his ass—broke into your tree house or whatever, and perved over your porno mags. Believe me, he will be punished for that. But could you please explain the part where you said he tried to steal money?”
I looked between him and Tate again. Tate looked like a dog with his tail between his legs, and as much as the cooling anger demanded that I go and give him a hug, I resisted, folding my arms over my chest and reinforcing my glare. The sooner I got rid of this asshole, the better.
“Ayda—”
“Don’t you dare, Tate. I don’t want to hear anything from you yet.”
The biker boy’s hand flew out to the side, but he never once broke his stare as his blue green eyes burned into mine, studying me like I was some kind of science project.
Before I even realized what was happening, he clicked his fingers at my brother then pointed to the ground in front of him, effectively calling him over like he would call a dog to heel at his feet.
“I think I'll leave him to do story time. My patience is wearing thin with all this shit already and I’m not here to explain the actions of your piss ant brother… doll. You should be thanking me that he’s still alive.
That’s all I can say. The rest…” He paused to smirk, giving my chest one last flicker of interest before he straightened his spine and towered over me.
“Well, I’ll leave it up to Tate Michael Hanagan to fill you in. ”
“Oh, thank you. How very generous of you.” I stumbled closer, cursing the damnable pebbles on my front drive.
They were sharp and bit into the soles of my feet as I got closer, the chill of the evening air making my arms cross tighter over my chest, hiding the effects of the bitterness on my body.
The last thing I needed was this jackass thinking he was turning me on.
Mirroring the guy’s grip on Tate, I grabbed his arm and tugged him toward me. What I was thinking, I wasn’t sure. It had the same effect as if I’d tried to lift my car one-handed. The kid was all muscle and to me, might as well have been immovable.
“In the house, Tate.”
Tate’s eyes widened, but rather than doing as he was told, he shook his head, his eyes moving to Mr. Motorcycle Man and deferring to the ground. “Not leaving you.”
“I’m old enough to look after myself…” My words trailed off as I watched the guy laugh, shake his head and begin to wander away.
The laugh wasn’t entirely filled with humor.
I was pretty certain there was disgust, too.
I was stunned by the arrogance of him. He wore club colors and thought he ruled the damn world.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Ayda!” Tate whispered.
“Shut up, Tate. Hey, we’re not finished here, dude.”
“Yeah, we are, sweetheart.” He snorted with derision, his hands digging keys from his pocket, his body listing to the side as he came up with nothing.
“Do not walk away from me!”
He froze, mid-step, lifting his head before glancing over his shoulder at me.
The look of death he flashed had me swallowing with difficulty.
At this angle, I could see him much more clearly and the dark stubble was made even darker by the bruise that marred his skin. How the hell had I missed that?
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
Before I could respond with some smart assed comment, Tate leaned in close, his eyes catching mine with a silent warning. “That’s Drew Tucker, Ayda. Shut the fuck up.”
The buzzing in my ears was immediate. That name. I grew up with it. I heard it whispered by the girls in school, the barely-dressed women these men called the Hound Whores. It was a name spoken with reverence, awe, but most of all, it was a name that carried with it fear.
What the fuck had I just done?