Chapter 11
Trick/Jase
Viking and I both immediately objected.
“Absolutely not. We don’t know for sure it’s him, and an alarm won’t scare off a man who’s determined to hurt you,” I stated firmly, while Viking took a far less diplomatic approach.
“You must have shit for brains if you think we’re gonna let you stay here by yourself, girlie.” He stood up, wincing and grabbing his lower back as he straightened to his full height.
She stood up, too, and drew her shoulders back, obviously ready to give us both an earful. I stopped her before she even opened her mouth. Stepping closer, I put my hands on her shoulders, gently kneading them until she relaxed a little.
“Look, darlin’, we won’t take a chance where your safety is concerned. Either you come to the clubhouse, or I’m staying here tonight.”
“Now, wait just a goddamned minute. If you think I’m gonna let you spend the night here with her, you have shit for brains, too. I’ll be the one stayin’.”
I turned and looked at Viking, whose normal scowl had deepened considerably. “You threw your back out again, which means you aren’t in the best shape to physically defend her if Beau or whoever the fuck it is decides to show up here. Lauren either comes to the clubhouse, or she’s stuck with me.”
He reluctantly nodded, and I turned back to her, giving her shoulders an encouraging squeeze. “So, what’s it gonna be…the clubhouse, or me as a temporary roomie?”
She rolled her eyes and heaved a disgruntled sigh. “I don’t think Elvis would do well at the clubhouse, and I’m not leaving him here alone, so I guess you can have the guest room. The bed in there is only a twin-size, so good luck with that.”
Yeah, my six-foot-four-inch frame would be hanging off the end of the mattress, but I’d endured worse nights.
Of course, that was the night of my patch-in party when I’d gotten so drunk that I’d passed out naked on top of one of the pool tables and woke up with the eight-ball digging into my left ass cheek – and even more disturbingly – the tip of my dick covered in blue pool chalk. To this day I had no idea why.
Viking left a few minutes later, and I walked out with him so I could move my bike into Lauren’s garage. He eased his leg over his bike, then called out to me.
“If you lay one finger on my niece, I’ll string you up by your balls and beat you like a motherfuckin’ pinata.”
I gave him a salute, which he returned with his middle finger before firing up his Harley and roaring out of the drive.
I mounted my bike and walked it into the garage, then grabbed my gym bag out of the saddlebag, thankful that I kept an extra toothbrush in there, along with deodorant and a change of clothes.
Back inside, Lauren trailed after me as I made my way through the house, double checking that all the doors and windows were locked.
I had her reset the alarm, frowning as I saw that it was an older system which was only meant to alert the residents to an intruder and scare them off. It wasn’t actively monitored or even set up to contact the authorities if the alarm was tripped.
“I’ll have Brick update this system tomorrow. We’ll add some cameras, too.”
She started to object, until I pinned her with a look that meant it was non-negotiable.
“Fine,” she sighed, dropping her gaze to the floor.
I pulled my phone out of my cut and shot off a text to Brick, giving him the rundown on the situation and telling him that I wanted a top-of-the-line system installed the next day. He responded back quickly, telling me he would be here by ten o’clock.
I relayed that to Lauren, who told me that she wasn’t scheduled to go into the studio tomorrow anyway.
“The booths were already booked,” she explained, “so I’d planned to stay home and prepare notations for the next few chapters.”
She took a deep breath and then glanced around the room, trying to pretend that my presence wasn’t making her nervous.
“You know you’re safe with me, right?”
She nodded, then glanced away again. “Of course. I know you won’t let anyone get in.”
I crossed the room and tipped her chin up, forcing her to look me in the eyes. “I won’t, but that’s not what I meant. You are safe with me,” I repeated slowly. “I know I probably cross the line sometimes when I flirt and tease you, but I would never do anything you don’t want me to do.”
Her eyes searched mine, and she nodded again, apparently satisfied of my sincerity.
“I know that, but thank you,” she said quietly.
“No thanks necessary, darlin’.” I caught myself automatically giving her a wink and tried to stop and reverse course midway through.
She looked at me with concern, as if she was afraid I was having a spasm or some shit like that.
She had the good grace not to point that out, so I knew I needed to distract her before I made an even bigger damned fool of myself.
“Now, let’s figure out what to have for dinner.
I was originally calling to invite you to out to eat, but with that email bullshit going on, I think we should stay in tonight.
” I didn’t wait for a response before walking into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator, which contained a half-empty bottle of mustard, a handful of ketchup and hot sauce packets from various fast-food restaurants, a bottle of caramel-flavored coffee creamer, and several take-out containers.
A quick glance in the freezer showed there weren’t any better options in there, so I crossed over to the pantry and opened the door, only to drop my head in disbelief at the sight of the junk food lining the shelves.
“Why don’t you have any food?” I asked, which, in hindsight was not the most tactful thing to say, but damn, all she had was a lot of frozen and prepackaged, processed shit.
She paused in the act of sorting through a stack microwavable meals in the freezer and turned to look at me, complete confusion written all over her face.
“What?” She gestured to refrigerator, and then the pantry. “I have food.”
“No, babe, this is all crap. I’m talking about actual food. Vegetables, grains, proteins…” I trailed off as she shook her head and shut the freezer door.
“Let me guess,” she said with a roll of her pretty green eyes, “you’re a health nut? You live on a diet of kale smoothies, plain chicken breasts, and sadness, and think of quinoa as a decadent treat you’re allowed to splurge on once in a while?”
“No,” I protested. “but I don’t live on Pop Tarts, Hot Pockets, and Slim Jims either.
I do eat healthy meals as much as I can, and I have a protein smoothie for breakfast most days, but I had pizza for lunch yesterday, as a matter of fact.
” I didn’t mention that it was a veggie pizza on a cauliflower crust, since I didn’t think that would bolster my argument in the slightest.
I nudged her to the side and peered into the refrigerator again, then pointed out, “Everything you have in this house is either microwavable, or processed crap full of sodium, preservatives, and unpronounceable shit that’ll kill you, and your fridge has nothing but a few condiments and take-out containers. Do you ever actually cook?”
She reached around me and closed the refrigerator door a little harder than strictly necessary, then pinned me with a look that would shrivel the balls of a lesser man. Luckily, my balls were made of hardier stuff.
A thought wormed it’s way into my consciousness – the memory of Viking on the phone with her, telling her that the smoke detector wasn’t a kitchen timer, and teasing her that she’d probably been giving it a workout.
“Wait, you don’t know how to cook, do you?”
“You think that just because I’m a woman, the ability to cook should be genetically coded into my X chromosome or something?” She propped her hands on her hips, tipping her chin up in challenge. I had to resist the urge to tell her she looked beautiful when she was angry.
“Um, no, I think you should know how to cook because you’re a grown-ass adult who’s gonna have to worry about your cholesterol in a few years if you keep eating like this.”
“And I suppose you’re a whiz in the kitchen?” she sniped back, reaching in and grabbing a bag of – God help me, frozen chicken nuggets – out of the freezer.
“I am a terrific cook, as a matter of fact, even though I don’t get to do it as much as I’d like to since I live in the clubhouse.
Every time I cook something there, I end up with half a dozen brothers trying to steal my food,” I complained.
“I worked at the Second Street Diner when I was a teenager. I started as a busboy when I was fourteen, then started helping Martie out in the kitchen a couple of years later.”
Lauren’s mouth dropped open, and her stunned expression was funny as hell. She narrowed her eyes and gave me an assessing look.
“I’ll have you know that I eat healthy food, too. I had a salad for lunch the other day,” she pointed out smugly.
“That’s great, but one salad won’t prevent the clogged arteries you’re gonna get from,” I took the bag of chicken nuggets from her and glanced at the ingredients listed on the back, “minced chicken products, sodium phosphate, and potassium sorbate. I don’t think you want to know what constitutes minced chicken products, babe. ”
She grimaced, and I tossed the bag in the freezer, against my better judgement. It really should have been tossed in the garbage instead.
“Look, if you don’t know how to cook, that’s fine. I’d be happy to teach you.”
“I know how to cook…in theory,” she conceded with a shrug. “I’m just not good at it, OK? Even the simple stuff goes wrong. The last time I tried to boil an egg, I had to scrape egg yolk off the kitchen ceiling in my condo.”
“How the hell did that happen?” I couldn’t even hide the shock in my voice.
She shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “I honestly have no idea. I plopped the egg into the boiling water, and a few seconds later…boom.”
“Boom?”
“Yep, boom. The egg exploded, yolk landed on the ceiling, and the shell fragments flew everywhere. I actually got a tiny cut on my arm from the shrapnel.”
“Egg…shrapnel,” I repeated slowly, as my mind boggled trying to picture this scenario.
She nodded. “So, yeah, I’ve tried cooking. Many times. I suck at it.”
“Well, I’ll be happy to cook for you...” I glanced around the kitchen, then added, “…sometime when we have actual ingredients. For tonight, we’ll have to order in.”
It took us a few minutes to settle on Thai food, and after I placed the order I found Lauren sitting on the couch, holding Elvis and looking a little lost.
“Do you really think that email was a legitimate threat?” Her voice, normally vibrant and slightly husky, was soft now, almost timid, and it made me want to nut punch the person responsible for it.
“I’m not willing to take the chance.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath, then nuzzled the cat once before he wriggled out of her arms and ran out of the room.
“You have quite the protective streak, don’t you?”
I shrugged and nodded. “When it comes to women and kids, definitely.” I hesitated for a second, before adding, “My dad used to beat on my mom, and then he started in on me. As soon as I was big enough, I stopped him. There’s no way I’m gonna stand by and let it happen now.”
She looked shocked by my revelation. Hell, I was shocked at myself for mentioning it. I didn’t talk about that part of my childhood with anybody. Ever.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I hope things got better for you and your mom after that.” Her voice was soft and tinged with sadness.
I nodded, and she must have sensed that I didn’t want to talk about it further.
She was quiet while we ate, answering my questions about her food likes and dislikes, but offering up nothing else in the way of conversation. Her mind seemed a million miles away.
When we finished, she showed me the guest room.
“I’m going to have a long soak in a bubble bath and try to relax before I go to bed. The TV remote is in the tray on the coffee table,” she gestured back toward the living room. “Feel free to stay up as long as you want.”
“Are you OK, darlin’?” I asked, and when she hesitated, I pulled her into my arms for a hug. She looked like she could use one. A moment later, she wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder. I pressed a gentle kiss on her temple, enjoying the feel of holding her close.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then eased out of my embrace.
“Yeah, I’ll be all right. G’night, Trick…and thanks again. I know I was a pain in the ass about it earlier, but I really do appreciate everything you guys have done for me.”
With that, she went into her bedroom and closed the door. I was surprised, but damned happy when I didn’t hear it lock behind her. Maybe she was starting to trust me after all.
I returned to the living room and watched the last half of a movie I’d seen a dozen times before. When that ended, I scrolled on my phone for a while before resigning myself to a night spent trying to sleep on the tiny mattress, the size of which I’d outgrown by the time I’d turned fourteen.
I tossed and turned, trying and failing to get comfortable.
I was worried about leaving Lauren alone, even once Brick got the system updated tomorrow.
Hopefully, once Bull dug into her douchebag ex and that Dustin asshole she’d dated, we’d be able to have a little chat with the guilty party.
And by we, I meant me and my trusty Louisville slugger.
With that decision made, my mind drifted to other things. More pleasurable things, like what Lauren would look like in a bubble bath.
Sometime after midnight, I finally fell asleep to the thought of a wet, naked, luscious Lauren, lounging in the bathtub, and all the ways I could dirty her up.
When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t know what ached the most, my hard dick or my back, which had been contorted into an unnatural position for most of the night.
Either way, it was going to be a long fucking day.
I groaned as I got out of bed and stretched, hoping like hell that a hot shower would help ease at least one of my aches.