over the other man, a head taller than him. “You want to fuck her? Is that what you're telling me right now?”
“Stevie, let's go, man,” said a smart one, pulling his friend away.
“I can say whatever I want,” said Stevie. “It's a free country, isn't it?”
If he looked at Stevie right, squinting his eyes just a bit and tilting his head, he was almost like a smaller version of Beretta.
Ram snatched him by the neck and lifted him up off his feet. His friends followed as Ram continued to carry him, kicking and choking, and tossed him out of the store onto the concrete. He followed it up with a hard kick on his ass—and lucky for Stevie that he hadn't aimed for his ribs. They would have shattered like glass.
“There ain't a goddamn thing free about my woman,” said Ram. “And if I see you talking to her again, I'll shove your teeth so far down your throat the next time you see the dentist he'll have to cut you the fuck open.”
They all cleared out.
Chapter 8
––––––––
T hey pulled up on her street, and Ram came to a slow stop, circling back around when he saw the long line of cop cars in front of her house.
“Lot of cops,” he said, pointing. “There trouble here often?”
The house at the end of the cul-de-sac had about four cop cars in front of it. It was more than usual, but June wasn’t surprised to see them.
“A cop lives there,” she said, her voice tired. “That’s all.”
Ram grunted.
She would have to tell him the truth soon. He would know as soon as she walked into her house. It would end his attraction to her then and there; the ride was nice while it lasted. Perhaps the charade was over altogether, it was hard to say.
Probably not—Ram seemed like a man of his word, if nothing else. A man with a specific code, and one he took seriously. Still, part of that code would involve absolutely hating June's family, and so her with it.
She had been worrying over this ever since the gas station, to the point where even the tactile pleasure of holding on to Ram's heat and bulk had not been as distracting to her as before. But she was also upset, philosophically at least, about his display of dominance at the gas station.
“You know, those weren't the first guys who've hit on me,” she said, stepping off his bike. “Not even the first guys who did it in a trio like that.”
“You're gonna be my old lady, then you're gonna be my old lady,” said Ram. “You're not just yourself anymore. You're an extension of the club. I can't let anyone fuck with that.”
An “extension,” by which he most undoubtedly meant property.
And there was all that heat again, riding up in her against her will, at thoughts of being claimed, being his . It went against everything she believed, and yet there was something intrinsically attractive about it.
She would have been lying if she said she wasn't at least a little turned on by him grabbing that asshole by the neck and tossing him to the curb. It was an incredible display of strength. But that was something she'd never admit to.
“Have a little faith,” she suggested, “that I won't let anybody fuck with me either. How about that?”
He gave the sort of upside-down grin that people use, considering something for the first time. “Maybe so.”
“But, you can stick around in the rear guard if you want,” she said, sliding her hand unconsciously across his shoulders as she grabbed her bag. “It was sort of fun to call in the artillery.”
He flashed her a smile then that was both charming and a bit boyish. It surprised her, this flash of him that seemed so diametrically opposed to what she had seen of him so far. Mischievous, almost, instead of deadly dangerous. It made her heart pulse.
“Thanks for the ride home,” she said, turning. “You'll bring my luggage back to your shop, right?”
“It'll be there in the morning.”
“Great. I'll pick it up then."
As she started to walk back to her house, his hand grabbed at
“Stevie, let's go, man,” said a smart one, pulling his friend away.
“I can say whatever I want,” said Stevie. “It's a free country, isn't it?”
If he looked at Stevie right, squinting his eyes just a bit and tilting his head, he was almost like a smaller version of Beretta.
Ram snatched him by the neck and lifted him up off his feet. His friends followed as Ram continued to carry him, kicking and choking, and tossed him out of the store onto the concrete. He followed it up with a hard kick on his ass—and lucky for Stevie that he hadn't aimed for his ribs. They would have shattered like glass.
“There ain't a goddamn thing free about my woman,” said Ram. “And if I see you talking to her again, I'll shove your teeth so far down your throat the next time you see the dentist he'll have to cut you the fuck open.”
They all cleared out.
Chapter 8
––––––––
T hey pulled up on her street, and Ram came to a slow stop, circling back around when he saw the long line of cop cars in front of her house.
“Lot of cops,” he said, pointing. “There trouble here often?”
The house at the end of the cul-de-sac had about four cop cars in front of it. It was more than usual, but June wasn’t surprised to see them.
“A cop lives there,” she said, her voice tired. “That’s all.”
Ram grunted.
She would have to tell him the truth soon. He would know as soon as she walked into her house. It would end his attraction to her then and there; the ride was nice while it lasted. Perhaps the charade was over altogether, it was hard to say.
Probably not—Ram seemed like a man of his word, if nothing else. A man with a specific code, and one he took seriously. Still, part of that code would involve absolutely hating June's family, and so her with it.
She had been worrying over this ever since the gas station, to the point where even the tactile pleasure of holding on to Ram's heat and bulk had not been as distracting to her as before. But she was also upset, philosophically at least, about his display of dominance at the gas station.
“You know, those weren't the first guys who've hit on me,” she said, stepping off his bike. “Not even the first guys who did it in a trio like that.”
“You're gonna be my old lady, then you're gonna be my old lady,” said Ram. “You're not just yourself anymore. You're an extension of the club. I can't let anyone fuck with that.”
An “extension,” by which he most undoubtedly meant property.
And there was all that heat again, riding up in her against her will, at thoughts of being claimed, being his . It went against everything she believed, and yet there was something intrinsically attractive about it.
She would have been lying if she said she wasn't at least a little turned on by him grabbing that asshole by the neck and tossing him to the curb. It was an incredible display of strength. But that was something she'd never admit to.
“Have a little faith,” she suggested, “that I won't let anybody fuck with me either. How about that?”
He gave the sort of upside-down grin that people use, considering something for the first time. “Maybe so.”
“But, you can stick around in the rear guard if you want,” she said, sliding her hand unconsciously across his shoulders as she grabbed her bag. “It was sort of fun to call in the artillery.”
He flashed her a smile then that was both charming and a bit boyish. It surprised her, this flash of him that seemed so diametrically opposed to what she had seen of him so far. Mischievous, almost, instead of deadly dangerous. It made her heart pulse.
“Thanks for the ride home,” she said, turning. “You'll bring my luggage back to your shop, right?”
“It'll be there in the morning.”
“Great. I'll pick it up then."
As she started to walk back to her house, his hand grabbed at
Similar Books
