CHAPTER 2 WOLF
WOLF
The pool cue slid through my fingers as I lined up the shot, but my concentration was shot to hell. Three days since Deputy Quinn Jenkins had written me that ticket, and I hadn't been able to focus on anything except the way her breath had caught when I'd called her beautiful.
Buck's bar hummed with its usual Tuesday night crowd—truckers passing through, ranch hands spending their paychecks, and a handful of Pike Creek Riders holding court in the back corner.
The familiar sounds of country music and trash talk should have been comforting.
Instead, every time the door opened, my attention snapped to it like a dog on a leash.
"You gonna shoot or fondle that stick all night?" Phoenix asked from his perch on a bar stool, beer in hand.
I sank the seven ball without looking, muscle memory taking over where focus failed. "Jealous of my technique?"
"Of you mooning over the sheriff's daughter?" Tank laughed from across the table, chalking his cue. "Heard she wrote you up doing twenty over. The VP of Pike Creek Riders getting a speeding ticket from a tiny brunette with a badge? Fucking priceless."
"It was a routine traffic stop." Except for the ticket and the worst case of sexual frustration I'd had since high school. "Besides, she's not that tiny."
"She's like five-four, max."
"Five-six." The correction escaped before I could stop it, and both my brothers raised their eyebrows.
"Jesus, you've got it bad," Phoenix said, shaking his head. "The sheriff's daughter, Wolf? Really? Of all the women in Montana—"
"I know." I took a long pull from my beer, the cold doing nothing to cool the heat that sparked every time her face crossed my mind. "Believe me, I fucking know."
The thing was, I'd had plenty of women. Club girls who knew the score, townies looking for a walk on the wild side, even a lawyer from Billings once who'd liked slumming it with bikers.
But Quinn Jenkins? She'd looked at me with those whiskey-brown eyes full of challenge and heat, and a knot in my chest had shifted, rearranged itself around the shape of her.
"Viper know?" Tank asked, missing an easy corner pocket shot.
"Viper knows everything," I muttered. Our president had given me one of his looks yesterday—the kind that said he saw exactly what was happening and was waiting to see how spectacularly I'd fuck it up.
The door to Buck's opened, and my entire body went tight before my brain even processed who'd walked in. Quinn stood in the doorway, uniform crisp despite the late hour, hand resting on her duty belt while she scanned the room.
The bar went quiet the way it always did when law enforcement showed up. Conversations died mid-sentence, everyone suddenly fascinated by their drinks. Even old Conrad from the general store stopped mid-story about his fishing trip.
Her gaze landed on me, and that same charge from three days ago crackled between us, strong enough for Phoenix to actually whistle low under his breath.
"Evening, officers," Buck called from behind the bar, always the peacekeeper. The man had been keeping the peace between bikers, cowboys, and law enforcement for twenty years. "What can I do for Pike Creek's finest?"
"Routine check," Quinn said, but her attention never left mine. "Making sure everyone's behaving."
"We're always on our best behavior," I said, leaning against the pool table in a way that made my shirt stretch across my chest. Her gaze flickered down for a heartbeat before snapping back to my face. "Isn't that right, boys?"
Phoenix snorted into his beer. Tank muttered what sounded suspiciously like "fuck no."
Quinn moved closer, and jasmine cut through the bar's usual mix of beer and old leather. Clean and floral beneath the gunpowder of her duty belt. Whatever that perfume was, it shouldn't have been sexy on a cop, but on her, everything was sexy.
"No trouble tonight, McCarthy?"
"Wolf," I corrected, same as I had during the traffic stop, same as I would every time until she said it. "And the night's still young, Deputy. Who knows what kind of trouble might find me?"
Her jaw tightened, but heat flashed behind the professional mask. "Try to keep it legal."
"Where's the fun in that?" I said with a wink.
She should have walked away. Should have continued her "routine check" everyone in this bar knew was complete bullshit.
Pike Creek had maybe one bar fight a month, and it was always between the Hendrick brothers who'd been scrapping since they were kids.
Instead, she stood there, caught in the same magnetic pull driving me insane for three days straight.
"This is the third time this week you've checked this bar," I said, quiet enough only she could hear. The noise of the bar covered our conversation, but Phoenix and Tank exchanged knowing looks anyway. "Starting to think you're stalking me, Deputy Jenkins."
Pink spread across her cheeks. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm doing my job."
I moved closer, close enough to track the rapid flutter in the hollow of her throat. Close enough that if she turned her head, her lips would brush mine. "It's okay, sweetheart. I've been watching you too."
"This is inappropriate."
"Definitely."
"You're everything my father warned me about."
"Guilty as charged."
"I should arrest you."
"For what?" I grinned, knowing it would piss her off and loving the fire sparking in response.
"Inappropriate thoughts about a deputy? Because if that's illegal, I'm guilty as hell.
Been thinking about you for three days straight.
Wondering what you look like out of that uniform.
What sounds you make when you're not trying to be professional. "
A strangled noise escaped her—half frustration, half desire making my cock twitch—and she spun on her heel. "Keep the noise down."
"Quinn."
She stopped but didn't turn around.
Then she walked out without another word, the door slamming behind her hard enough to rattle the neon beer signs.
"Holy shit," Tank breathed. "The sexual tension between you two could power the whole town."
"You're done for, brother," Phoenix added, signaling Buck for another round. "Completely, utterly done for."
He was right. I was absolutely wrecked. Because Quinn Jenkins had me thinking about things I'd never wanted before.
Wondering about more than the next club run or the next easy conquest. Imagining what it would be like to wake up to that fire every morning, to earn those rare smiles she saved for when no one was watching.
I handed my cue to Tank. "I'm out."
"Where you going? It's barely ten."
"To work off some frustration."
"There's rooms upstairs if you need to jerk—"
I flipped Phoenix off as I headed for the door, their laughter following me out into the cool Montana night.
The ride back to the clubhouse did nothing to clear my head. If anything, the vibration of the bike between my legs conjured images of Quinn—pressed against my back, arms wrapped tight around me, trusting me with her safety even though I was everything her father had taught her to fear.
The clubhouse sat dark except for security lights, most of the brothers either home or still at Buck's. Good. I didn't need an audience for this.
I headed straight for the makeshift gym in the back room, stripping off my cut and shirt as I went. The heavy bag hung there like an old friend, worn leather marked with years of frustration and rage.
The first punch landed solid. Real. Physical pain I could control when everything else in my life was spinning toward a collision I couldn't avoid.
By the tenth punch, my knuckles screamed.
By the thirtieth, blood spotted the leather.
I kept going, each impact sending shock waves up my arms, grounding me in the physical when my mind wanted to spiral into fantasies about a woman I had no business wanting.
"You trying to kill it or fuck it?"
Viper's voice made me pause mid-swing. Our president leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, reading me like I had my thoughts tattooed on my forehead. Tara had softened some of his edges, but Viper still saw everything.
"Working out."
"Right. This have anything to do with the sheriff's daughter doing 'routine checks' at Buck's three times this week?"
Another punch split the skin on my middle knuckle. "News travels fast."
"Small town." He moved into the room, grabbing the bag to hold it steady. "You know this can't happen, right? Bill Jenkins would lose his shit. Could cause real problems for the club. We finally got things settled after the Harrison situation."
"I know."
"But you don't care."
Blood now speckled the worn leather. "I care. Can't seem to stop."
"Yeah, I know that feeling." His mouth quirked up, remembering how he'd practically moved into Tara's place within a week of meeting her. "Sometimes the worst ideas make the most sense."
"She hates me." The words came out between punches.
"No, she doesn't."
"She should."
"Yeah, well." He let go of the bag, clapping my shoulder with enough force to make me stumble. "Since when has 'should' ever stopped any of us from going after what we want?"
He left me alone with the bag and my bloody knuckles and the truth I didn't want to examine too closely.
I wasn't just attracted to Quinn Jenkins.
I was already half in love with her.
And that was going to destroy us both.
Later, I sat in my apartment, nursing a beer and my wounded hands. The place had never bothered me before—basic furniture, bike parts in the corner, exactly what a bachelor needed. Now the silence pressed in, making me wonder what it would be like to have someone to come home to.
I pictured Quinn in her apartment, pacing, frustrated, absolutely as wound up as I was. Tomorrow would be worse. The tension would keep building until one of us snapped. And when that happened...
When it happened, Pike Creek would never be the same.
I finished my beer and headed for the shower, needing cold water to shock some sense into me. But even under the icy spray, all I could think about was Quinn Jenkins and how she'd looked at me tonight—like she wanted to arrest me and fuck me in equal measure.
The worst part wasn't the wanting. I'd wanted plenty of women before. The worst part was knowing she wanted me too, and watching her fight it. Watching her try to be the good daughter, the professional deputy, when everything in her was screaming for something else.
Something dangerous.
Something that looked a lot like me.
Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow I'd stay away from Buck's. Give us both space to cool down. Let the tension ease before it exploded into something neither of us could take back.
But even as I made the promise, I knew I was lying.
Because Quinn Jenkins had gotten under my skin in a way no one ever had, and I wasn't going to stop until she admitted she felt the same way.
Phoenix was right.
I was completely, utterly wrecked.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.