Chapter Seventeen
“I’m not getting on that. I can barely open my thighs I’m so sore. Everything hurts down there,” Stacey said, looking at Troy’s Harley, which he’d parked across her front door. He wasn’t taking any chances with Hawg. Stacey was his. Not respecting the code meant trouble.
“Ride you too hard last night?” he asked with a grin.
“Last night, all through the night, and twice this morning.” She massaged her lower back with a grimace.
True. Fact was, he couldn’t get enough of her. He tucked his arm around her waist. “You have to be seen as my woman.”
“By not being able to walk properly?” she muttered.
He laughed. “No. By riding behind me on my bike.”
“Until you leave,” she said.
“Ouch. Still mad at me?”
“Let’s not pretend this is anything more than it is.”
He pushed out a breath. “Guess I deserve that.”
He didn’t usually regret his words. But she felt so damned good in his arms. If commitment meant fucking her all night and twice again in the morning, he was good with that.
Except, a girl like Stacey would no doubt want more.
“Hopefully, Lizzie will be back soon, and things will settle down so you can drop your protective duty,” she said.
Stacey had no idea of the trap she was living in. He hadn’t told her the brothers never forgot a betrayal, especially Pa. Which meant Lizzie wouldn’t come back fast, because she understood the brothers’ idea of retribution. Lizzie would be safe. Animal would die. Stacey? The jury was still out.
He handed her a helmet. “Put this on.”
“I can’t take your helmet.”
“It’s my spare.” He liked watching her trying to get on his bike wearing that short skirt. He hoped to God she wasn’t wearing panties.
“You could have told me we were riding before I got dressed. I would have worn jeans.” She pulled down the front of her skirt and slung a leg over the saddle.
“Nah, I like you just as you are. You wearing anything under that skirt?”
“Mind your own damn business. I’ll never get to work if I answer that question, and I need to find out what’s going on at Dad’s shop.”
Troy grinned as he strapped on her helmet once she was on the back of the bike. Any excuse to touch her. He’d finally met a woman he melded with. One who was a lady like his mother. Educated and intelligent.
He started his bike and drove to Gert Town. The area was industrial, poor, and since being hit by Katrina in 2005, surviving on a sense of hopelessness. Truth was, he wasn’t going to let Stacey walk into the shop alone. She was too young, too trusting. Live bait for unscrupulous men. Or dishonest employees.
When he drove up to the shop’s warehouse, the garage door was closed, and the place looked locked up tight. Stacey climbed off the bike, took her helmet off, and dug for her keys in the little purse she kept strapped to her waist. “Thanks for the lift. Will you pick me up at three? I have an appointment with the locksmith.”
He pulled off his own helmet. “Cancel it. You have me now.”
“But you’ll be leaving now. You don’t do commitment, remember?” she said sweetly.
“You always this annoying?”
“I save it up just for you.”
“If the brothers want you, new locks won’t keep them out. No one is getting through me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Have it your way.”
“I always do.” And another thing. He had no intention of leaving her bed anytime soon. It was too good there.
She marched up to the office door and inserted the key. “See you later.”
He strode after her. “This is a rough area. You’re not staying here alone.”
She hiked her eyebrows. “I need to go over Dad’s accounts. Get my head around what’s here. It may take a while. What will you do to entertain yourself?”
He smiled.
She put up a hand to ward him off. “What part of ‘I can hardly walk’ don’t you get?”
He laughed and went to pull her close, when an old beat up sedan drove into the parking spot.
She looked at her watch. “That’s Bill Rush, the foreman. I met him at Dad’s funeral.”
“What time is he meant to start work?”
“Nine.”
“He’s late.”
She turned to him, her sky-blue eyes troubled. “No shit. You can see why I want to be here. This is all I have, Troy. I have to make this business work.”
What was it about this woman that made him want to step up like some kind of knight in shining armor? To promise her shit he didn’t do, like relationships and commitment?
He frowned. “I don’t get it. You’re the daughter of a rich trust-fund socialite. Why are you even working?”
Her lips thinned. “Mom’s wealthy, not me. She gave me a good education. The best schools. If I ask her for money, every cent will come with an obligation—what I should do, who I should date. I don’t want that.”
“Then at least let me help.” He indicated the foreman getting out of his car.
She sighed in relief. “Thanks.”
He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, glad she hadn’t told him to butt out. He didn’t like going against her wishes.
“Dad has two men, Bill Rush who is the foreman, and Hans Rudder, on the payroll. I don’t know Bill—just from Dad’s funeral. But I do know the foreman has access to everything, including the bank account.”
Bill opened his sedan door and walked stiffly toward them. When he came close, he looked Troy up and down, taking in his leather cut with its club badges and colors. He held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Beast, Stacey’s boyfriend.”
She gave an almost silent gasp. He noticed it, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.
Funny how the word “boyfriend” had come out of his with such ease.
Bill mumbled his name and shook hands.
Stacey already had the door open and was switching on the lights. The place had a locked-up odor, and a pall of mourning hung over it like a bad smell. A framed photo sat on the desk, one of her father holding a young, white-blonde Stacey on his knee.
“Where is Hans Rudder?” she asked Bill.
“I told him to take his leave. Didn’t know if anyone was coming in. Haven’t heard from your brother lately.”
She glanced over at Troy, her bright blue eyes betraying her worry. “Brian’s on a break of his own. I’m going to take over for now.”
“Know anything about the spare car parts business, girly?” Bill asked, looking none too pleased at that piece of news.
“Her name is Stacey,” Troy said. “Or Miss Martin. Have a little respect. She’s your boss now.”
She put a restraining hand on his arm. “I’ve inherited the business along with Brian. I know I have a lot to learn,” she said to Bill, her tone polite. She strode over to the computer at the front desk and switched it on. “I’ll need all the log-in codes. I’m going to start with the invoices so I can get my head around what’s coming in and going out.”
Bill came and stood over her. “I do all the invoicing.”
Troy leaned against the wall and folded his arms, watching the interplay, not liking what he saw. “Give your boss what she needs, Bill.”
She frowned at him, then looked up at Bill with a big smile on her face. “Pull up a chair and take me through the accounts. I’d like to learn the invoicing process.”
She was charming. He’d give her that. And persistent. He hadn’t really expected her to hang around. He liked her ladylike way of dealing with people, even if it usually didn’t work. Some men only understood command and retribution.
He expected the lesson he taught Hawg in the club had been learned, but he couldn’t be sure. One way to find out how the wind was blowing was at the club’s motorcycle repair shop where he worked.
He looked at his watch. Stacey could be a while.
“Troy, why don’t I call you if I need you?” she suggested.
He gave Bill a long stare until the man averted his gaze. “Any sign of trouble, call me. My workshop is close by.”
“I will.”
He strode over and gave her a full kiss on the lips. Just the press of his mouth on her softness made him hard. He’d only known her two nights, but charade or not, he already thought of her as his.
Nobody had better mess with her. Nobody. Or they’d have him to answer to.
And that would not be pretty.