Chapter 8

Dildo: the original selfie stick.

-Uncertain Pleasures T-shirt

Annie

“Stubborn, pig-headed, heart breaking, man,” I muttered to myself as I walked into the back of my store.

I glared at the new lock, as well as the brand new alarm that’d appeared as if by magic.

I knew it was Mig, though.

Even though I hadn’t seen him—not once—in a month, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was responsible.

Hell, he wasn’t even living in his house, either.

His ex-wife was, though.

And I felt awkward as hell living in my house, so I’d put it on the market.

I’d also secretly hoped it would bring Mig out of the woodwork, but it hadn’t worked.

Now I was back in my store’s apartment much to, what I guessed was, Mig’s chagrin.

Hence why I now had an alarm system, what I guessed to be a high tech security camera system, as well as a biker bodyguard that never introduced himself.

After talking with Lenore, though, I realized that the biker bodyguard was a ‘prospect’ or someone trying to get into the club.

I hadn’t realized the Uncertain Saints were even looking for someone to add to their club, but I learned new things every day.

Kind of like Lenore being Griffin’s ‘old lady.’

I hadn’t even realized there were such things as old ladies.

But after being informed by Lenore that old ladies were like the wives of the biker world, I realized that I really, really wanted to be one.

I just had to figure out where Mig was first.

Which was where I was going now.

According to Lenore, my partner in crime, Griffin and Mig worked in the same building.

And I had a legitimate reason to be there and ask for Mig’s help.

I was rethinking my decision to go two minutes later as I drove down the road to the office Lenore had given me directions to this morning as I’d done her hair.

It didn’t look like a DEA or Texas Ranger headquarters.

Not that I really had anything to go by.

In fact, I sat studying it so long that I didn’t realize there was someone at the front of my car until they tapped on the hood.

I jumped, turning to find a glaring Mig at the front of my car.

And he did not look happy to see me.

Gathering what little courage I had, I got out of the car slowly, very aware of my head.

I still got head rushes when I went from sitting to standing quickly.

Then my head would start hurting for hours.

So I learned the hard way to do it slow, or else.

“Hey,” I whispered.

I also learned that if I talked too loudly, that it seemed to jar something in my brain, making my head hurt.

Then again, loud noises, sudden movements, and chewing made my head hurt...it didn’t take much.

His eyes narrowed on me, studying me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.

“What are you doing here?” He rasped.

God, his voice!

It made shivers run down my spine, and my toes curl.

“I have something to show you…and run by you,” I said.

And I did.

I never realized just why my husband had tried to break into my house that night a month and a half ago.

It wasn’t until I moved my things back into my store that I realized the coincidences.

I walked around the car, passing right by him to get to my right back passenger seat.

I didn’t question why I chose to go the front way that took me by him instead of around the back that was faster.

I could’ve sworn that he’d growled as I made my way past him.

But he didn’t say a word, and neither did I.

Instead, I reached in for a huge box of junk I’d managed to pick up without breaking my head, and turned.

I froze when I saw how close Mig was to me.

He had to be standing only inches away from me, and the only thing separating us was the box in my hands.

“What is it?” He rumbled.

Then I was divested of my box, and he was walking across the street without another word.

I followed behind him, going at a much slower pace than him.

I hadn’t been able to work out since I’d been hurt.

Yet again, the moment blood started to really work through my body, and my heart rate started to rise, a headache would be soon to follow.

But, it turns out, watching Mig’s ass in his tight jeans made my blood pressure rise…and wouldn’t you know it, a headache started to thud dully behind my eyes.

Well, that sucked!

I slowed down even more, allowing a large distance to separate the two of us, hoping that if I slowed down my head wouldn’t get into the full blown kill-me-now range.

And surprisingly, it worked.

Mig’s scowl as he held the door open for me had me rethinking the decision, though.

“What’s wrong?” He asked once I reached his side.

I gently shook my head from side to side.

“Headache. Nothing I can’t handle,” I said, slowly passing between him and the doorframe he so kindly held open for me.

He grunted as I passed by him, and my eyes nearly crossed as my front brushed against his.

The first person I saw when I entered the room was Griffin and his bright blue, knowing eyes.

I waved, and he winked, returning to his phone conversation without even a hello.

Mig brushed past me and said, “Over here.”

I followed him to the desk and stopped just to the side of his chair.

He set the box down on the desk, and I took the time to look around the room.

It was pretty bare.

There were two desks with mounds of paperwork on each.

Two chairs behind each desk.

A bulletin board on the far wall, a water dispenser in the corner near the front door, and a dartboard splitting the two halves of the room in the very front.

“What do you have that you want me to look at?” Mig rumbled.

I blinked, returning my gaze to him.

My mouth watered as I took in his face.

The longer than usual dark hair that was covering his head.

His gray eyes studied my face, first going to my right side where the piece of wood had connected with my head.

Then to my eyes, which still showed a large amount of bruising, then down to take in my body.

I’d lost some weight, which he was obviously noticing.

I couldn’t say I was bothered by it, though.

The one good thing that came out of all of this was being able to fit into my skinny jeans once again.

“Well?” He asked a little loudly, causing me to jump.

“Oh,” I said, reaching to the box and opening the flaps. “I just saw these today and, at first, I couldn’t figure out just what was bothering me, but the more I studied them, the easier it became to see.”

I laid out each of my purses along the top of his desk until all six of them were in plain view.

My belly was a mass of fluttering butterflies as I looked at him.

“So you have a purse collection,” he muttered.

I nodded.

“I used to, yes,” I conceded.

His eyes narrowed on my words.

“Talk,” he ordered.

I held up my actual purse, then showed him the symbols.

“They’re fakes,” I told him, indicating the purses I’d laid on the desk.

He looked at me with raised brows.

“So?” He asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I didn’t purchase fakes. I’m not sure when they were replaced with these, but I most certainly had real ones that I purchased at actual Coach Stores,” I told him.

I could tell he still didn’t get it.

“I think my ex-husband switched my purses with these so he could have the real ones,” I explained.

A light dawned.

“You think he stole your purses, then started selling drugs in them?” He continued.

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I think he did.”

He studied the purses.

“I think the night he came in, he was actually looking to switch out my purse,” I indicated the one I was using. “With a fake one.”

He nodded.

“I remember he had another bag in the large backpack he was carrying on him, but we deemed it not yours since yours was in his hands,” Mig observed.

“I’m not really sure where my other purses are, but I think I can find that out through Ross,” I said.

Mig nodded.

“You’re not going to be in this at all. I’ll take care of it. I don’t want you to approach Autrey at all,” he ordered.

I held up my hands.

“I won’t, I promise,” I lied.

He seemed to know I was lying, too.

But if that was the only way to get him to stop being so standoffish, I’d confront Ross a million times and still accept the sacrifice as worth it.

When he didn’t reply, I stood up, repacking my box.

He stilled my hands when I went to take the purses.

“Leave them.”

I left them, picking up my actual purse and making my way to the door.

“Thanks,” I said.

But before I could push all the way through the front door, he stopped me by grabbing a hold of the bar that spanned the width of the door.

I turned just my head to look at him and caught him staring right at me.

His eyes were on my lips, and the moment I went to lift my hand and place it on his cheek, he jerked back like I was waving a gun in his face.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Mig said, releasing the door.

I turned around and glared at the ass.

How could I think I was in love with him?

Then he opened the door for me and I walked out the door.

I got into my car, put it into drive and then started to leave.

But the last thing I saw was Mig watching me drive away.

And I knew with one look that he didn’t want me to go.

Knew it like I knew I’d draw another breath.

He wanted me, but he also wanted to protect me from what he thought was his dangerous life.

But his excuse had proven for naught today as I gave him my theory on just why I was somehow involved in the middle of a drug deal. Plus, I knew a drug dealer… my ex-husband.

What he failed to recognize was that I’d found it on my own.

Sure, his situations only added to mine, but it wasn’t like I was going into this life without my eyes wide open.

And I was about to prove to him just who and what I could be…and what kind of situations I could get in.

I smiled.

Oh, this would be fun!