Chapter 12
I thought I knew what trouble was yesterday. Now, I know an all new level of disaster.
Her hands are all over me. My blood is pumping faster than the oil in my bike’s motor.
And her laugh does bad, bad things to me.
I’ve never thought about keeping a woman. Never ached to wake up with her year after year.
But listening to Vera’s raw, unchained laugh, paints pictures in vivid color in a world that’s been black, white and red. Blood red.
Every man in the yard stops what he’s doing when we roll through the gate.
I knew they would. It’s not the nineteen bikes behind me. They’re gawking because I have a woman on my seat. Not one brother in this club has seen a woman on my bike, because there has never been one.
Not once. Not in all these years.
The gate rolls shut behind us and I toll to a stop.
At least forty pairs of eyes pin me. Rio’s got a wrench in his hand, but he’s forgotten he’s holding it. Two prospects are gawking.
Vera climbs off my bike. Muttering, she’s trying to fix her dress. Got both hands full of green fabric, dragging it down.
Her hair is destroyed. It’s hanging down her back in a mess of bourbon-colored curls with a bobby pin sticking out of it.
Her cheeks are flush and it’s not from the wind. She looks like she just got fucked in a hayloft.
And every man in this yard is looking at her.
No fucking way.
I get off that bike and I put myself between her and the whole damned place. Taking my time, I look around slowly, letting every man see my face.
That’s all it takes.
Rio finds something extremely interesting on the ground. The prospects turn into statues, eyes averted. The rest of the men find urgent business elsewhere, all at once, like somebody kicked a hill of ants.
Except Hoss.
Hoss is leaning on the rail of the porch with a beer in the fucking morning, and he’s grinning at me.
Calling across the driveway, he says, “Well, hell.”
I give him a look. “Don’t,” I growl.
“I didn’t say nothing,” he replies, chuckling.
“You’re about to.”
“I’m just enjoying my beer.”
I start walking, and Vera falls in step beside me. Right at my elbow. Shoulders back, chin lifted in that conservative dress.
“Brother, you’re fucked,” he adds.
I’ll deal with him later, I’m too busy being acutely aware that Vera’s not scared.
I’ve brought her into an armed compound with guard towers and men who kill people, and she’s walking through it with her back held strong, looking at everything, cataloguing it like she’s here to do the books.
She probably is here to do the books before this is over.
“There are guns in the tower,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Yep.”
“Is that legal?”
“No.”
“Okay.” She thinks about it for a half-dozen steps. “And the fence is electrified, or is that decorative?”
“You want the honest answer?”
“After the last twenty-four hours, I do.”
I push open the door to the main building and hold it for her. “It’s electrified.”
“Wonderful,” she says sarcastically, and walks through, ducking under my arm.
As she goes, her hair brushes my chest, snagging on my leather cut, and I have to stand in the doorway for a second and get myself right.
I’m so fucked. Hoss is right.
The hall’s full of people like always. And they part like water in front of the two of us.
My inner violent, jealous bastard beats his chest. Every man looks, and I clock each one that lets his eyes drop below her chin. Mentally, I make a list that has four names on it by the time we reach the far end.
Whitney’s coming toward us with a laundry basket and she stops dead.
“Ace,” she says. “Oh. Hi. I’m Whitney.”
“I’m Vera,” my new obsession replies.
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve been through a hedge.”
“I’ve been arrested, spent the night in jail, and I’ve been on a motorcycle,” Vera says, motioning at her face, “And I’m not certain which one my hair is angrier about.”
Whitney laughs out loud.
And Vera lights up at that. It happens fast, a whole transformation of her face. Like a woman who got a laugh and did not expect to get one.
My ticker thumps painfully inside my ribs. There’s a hard kick from the organ like an angry mule as I keep walking.
That’s when I see the next round of trouble. Heidi, one of the club girls, is at the end of the hall.
She’s got herself arranged against the wall in about fifteen inches of dress. Eyes narrowed, she looks Vera up and down before I can block her view.
“Wow,” Heidi says. “That’s a lot of dress.”
I stop abruptly. The whole building seems to shudder.
I’m not the kind of man that raises his voice. Never had to in this building. But right now, I want to yell in her face.
“Heidi.” I look at her until she pales. “You want to say that again where I can hear it right?”
“I was just—” she fumbles for a reply.
“This woman is under my protection,” I growl in a low, angry tone. “My personal protection. You understand what those words mean? Or do you want me to explain them to you in front of everybody?”
She’s looking at the floor. “No,” she mumbles.
“Then get out of my hallway and don’t ever come back.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Without even glancing at Vera, Heidi hustles off, high heels clacking on the floor.
Jesus. I’m gonna blow a fuse before this goddamned walk is over. I stand there for a second with my blood jacked up so high I can hear it.
I have to physically make myself unclench both my jaw and my hands. When I turn around Vera is looking at me with the strangest expression I have ever seen on a human face.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says with a tight shake of her head.
“Yes I did.”
“People have said that kind of thing to me my whole life. It’s not new. I have a very well-organized filing system for it.”
“Not here.” My voice comes out sharp as a shovel going into dirt. “Not one time, not while you’re standing on my ground.”
She opens her mouth, but quickly closes it.
Good. She gets how serious I am about this.
Without further comment, I turn and I put my key in the door of my quarters. When I get it open, I stand back to let her in.
This is a monumental moment. Nobody goes in my place.
Not Skull. Not Prez.
I mentally groan. Here I am, I’m standing here holding it open like a goddamn butler with my heart going like a jackhammer and a weird sensation spreading through my body.
Fuck. I don’t do vulnerable.
She takes two steps inside and freezes. In a whisper, she says, “Oh, my God.”