Chapter Twenty
Troy sat in Stacey’s kitchen, watching as she finalized a spicy shrimp dish, trying to work out why the hell he’d formed an attachment to her. He’d only known the woman for a few days, so why the fuck couldn’t he think of her as just an assignment?
Simple. He’d treated her badly, and he owed her. So, he’d keep her safe. The end.
Except it wasn’t. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d thought he could just fuck her to get rid of the itch, but the itch had become a burn that wouldn’t leave.
And it wasn’t even the type of fucking he was used to. Stacey was inexperienced, so he was learning about her body at the same time as she was, and she was turning out to be a deeply sensual woman. She hadn’t balked at the spanking, and he suspected there’d be many other delights he’d be able to teach her.
It couldn’t last. They were from different worlds. But it was great while it did last because it made him feel damned good. He needed something good after the last op had gone wrong. He’d taken out innocents. It was no use telling himself that it was an accident, or that it didn’t matter because there was always collateral damage in war.
Because it did matter.
He didn’t want to kill anymore.
And he didn’t want Stacey hurt.
“You okay, Troy?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
She came over and kissed him on the cheek. “You can talk to me if you want to.”
“Can’t.”
She squeezed his shoulder but didn’t push it. Instead, she went back to her work.
Turned out his princess could cook. While he lived on army rations at work, and steak and hamburgers at home, she’d insisted on doing a three-course meal accompanied by wine.
He made sure there was plenty of beer for Pa. Although Pa would be satisfied with the fillet steak she’d insisted on buying, he knew Mom loved Cajun cooking and would be pleased with the exotic shrimp Stacey planned to serve first.
“Tell me, how does Jean-Paul fit into the family, again?”
Grateful for the change of topic, he said, “My mother is from an old French New Orleans family. Jean-Paul is her cousin.”
Stacey paused thoughtfully with her spatula in the air. “So, how does an old, refined family fit with a motorcycle gang?” she asked.
“Mom’s estranged from her family. And it’s a club,” he corrected her.
“Pardon?”
“It’s not a gang. It’s a club.”
She went back to cooking. “You could have fooled me,” she said with a shudder.
“It’s a legit club, baby. We own bars and motorcycle shops.”
“Nothing illegal?”
He shrugged. “Plenty, back in my grandfather’s day. But no more. Pa cleaned the club up.”
She put a hand on her hip. “You’re telling me those hookers are legal?”
“Escorts.” He grinned. He liked it when she challenged him. “And we don’t own that business. Pa’s just doing a favor for Gabriella.”
She gave him a disparaging head shake. “Your father’s protecting prostitutes. Bet your mother likes that.”
“She doesn’t. And Pa’s finding it a pain in the butt.”
Stacey shot him a wry glance. “Don’t even go there.”
He laughed. Nope. This gorgeous woman was never going to fit into his world. “Thanks for agreeing to meet Pa, considering the circumstances.”
She started dishing up the rice. “You sure he’s not going to do something mean to me?”
Troy wandered over and looked for a wine opener. “No. He’ll behave because he worships Mom. He’ll do anything to please her. Dad’s side were swamp farmers. Dirt poor. Mom’s an only child who stands to inherit a plantation if her father passes before her mother. I don’t think Pa ever thought he’d marry a classy woman like Mom.”
“Too bad about her break with her family, though.”
“Yeah. But if we can convince her we’re for real, you’ll be able to live in New Orleans.”
“Even if you’re not here.”
“You’ll be protected for life.” He didn’t like her ready acceptance that he wouldn’t be here.
“Until you get tired of me.”
He darted her a warning glance. “Like I said, for life.”
She gave him a look of patent disbelief. “Anyway, I don’t want bikers protecting me. I don’t want them in my business. That’s why I left New York. To finally be in charge of my own life, not end up under someone else’s control, even worse than my mother’s.”
“No one wants control over you.” Well, except maybe him, in bed. “You’ll make your own decisions, but one phone call to Pa and you’ll have help if you need it.”
“I won’t.”
She could be right. He’d watched her shut out that slime bucket, Bill, from her father’s bank account this afternoon. She was definitely a survivor.
“So, you’re French? That’s where you got your swarthy good looks from.” She put the shrimp dish in the refrigerator to cool. She seemed to know instinctively when to change the subject.
But then, so did he.
“Swarthy good looks, eh? You find me hot?”
He sat back down on the kitchen chair, toying with the wine opener as she marinated the steaks with garlic and Cajun spices. It would be all too fancy for Pa, but Troy didn’t care. He was enjoying watching her move. She was wearing a little white dress in some delicate fabric that he could almost see through.
“Quit looking at me like you’re undressing me.”
He grinned. “Why?”
She looked over her shoulder again and glanced down at his lap. “Your parents are due soon. Please don’t answer the door with a hard-on. That would be really embarrassing.”
“I’ll try not to,” he said. He was, indeed, sporting another boner, which he’d need an ice pack to flatten. He wanted to bend her over the table and do her hard. Lift that little white dress up at the back and pull down her neat, white panties. Hell, rip the damn things off with his teeth.
“Troy! I mean it.”
He heard the throttle of Pa’s Harley pulling up in the drive. “Speak of the devil. Now, be a good, loving fiancée and come with me. My parents’ names are Joe and Georgia, though you may like to call them Pa and Mom.”
She made a face. “I doubt that.”
“Play nice, Stacey. If you insist on living in New Orleans, I need my father on our side. Make sure you tell Mom you’re planning to have a truckload of babies in the future. That’ll seal her approval. Once you’ve got that, you’re in.”
Stacey’s face fell, and she gripped his arm. “God, I hope I can keep the story we practiced straight.”
“Just be yourself. Mom believes in love. She fell for Pa when she was fifteen.”
“What!”
“Yeah. Pa wooed her, got her pregnant with me, and made her the black sheep of her family. Her father disowned her, but she’s in contact with her mother. She’ll recognize an outsider when she sees one. Turning that around is going to be the challenge.”
Stacey puffed out a breath. “I’ll do my best, but no guarantees.”
He didn’t comment on her light-hearted response because he didn’t want to scare her. This had to work because the alternative of Hawg coming at Stacey with a knife was unthinkable. Troy would have to step up and protect her, which meant turning against his club.