She turns from me, leans on the walls, and looks down at my men unloading the crates. Her eyes went wide when she saw it for the first time: all these grizzled, tough men, all of them looking like they could kill a man without a second thought, doing something as mundane as unloading crates. I toyed with her a bit, it’s true. I could’ve told her right away what we were going to do. But a man’s allowed a little fun, isn’t he?

 

Anyway, she looks sexy as hell when she’s worried. As she leans over the wall, she stands on her tiptoes. The muscles in her legs twitch subtly, and I move my eyes up and down them, all the way to her ass. Her shorts ride up, and I catch a glimpse – a tempting sliver – of red lace panties. Interesting. She’s a strong woman, but she wears sexy panties like that.

 

The truth is I was hornier than a devil pumped with Viagra when I invited her to ride with me—hornier, even. There’s something about this girl that’s driving me crazy. I don’t know if it’s the way her bra strap keeps falling from her shoulder (and the way she shrugs it back up without seeming to notice). Or the way her leg muscles twitch and tremor when she moves. Or the way her expression moves between sarcastic and soft and sexy all the time. She’s a real enigma, this Eden.

 

I can’t stop watching her, imagining all the things I’d love to do to her. Just to slide my hand between those long, thin legs, up between that thigh gap, and see how wet I can make those red panties… red panties to match her hair…

 

My goal was to break through her eye-rolling disdain, and looking at her now, I can see I’ve accomplished that. She thought there was going to be violence, an explosion of it. She thought she was trapped in the middle of a dangerous outlaw’s conflict. I’ve shattered that illusion.

 

But also… yes, admit it, my mind wills me. Admit it. Admit the truth!

 

But also, I reflect, wondering why I care at all, I wanted to show her that the outlaw’s life isn’t all about being a criminal. When she looked at me, she saw a man who made his money by fighting, by hurting people. And yeah, there’s some of that in the outlaw life. There always has been, and there always will be. But here, today, Eden’s seeing the other side of the biker club life: the boring, everyday side - the humdrum side.

 

She turns to me. “What’s in the crates?” she asks, and her brown-red eyes are wide, startled. I know she’s thinking about guns or drugs. I know she’s thinking that there are countless criminal possibilities. It’s written plain on her face. And dammit, she looks so hot when she’s this confused.

 

Then I laugh, and a small smile flits across her lips before she straightens it out with a visible effort. “What’s funny?” she demands. “I don’t think making me a witness to something criminal is—”

 

“They are just auto parts,” I say. “Engines, exhausts, some rims, stuff like that. Nothing as dangerous or as exciting as what you’re thinking.”

 

“Oh,” she mutters.

 

“You sound disappointed.”

 

She turns back to the dock, looks down at The Miseryed—at men who wouldn’t look out of place in a killer’s den. She shakes her head, as though in disbelief. “Is that all?” she says. And then she shakes her head again, but this time quicker, as though trying to dislodge unwanted thoughts. “Disappointed? No, of course not. I’m glad. I don’t want to be a witness to drugs to guns or… human trafficking.”

 

“Human trafficking!” I laugh. “Damn, Red, what sort of man do you take me for? I have a legitimate auto-dealing business. I’m basically just a mechanic. Let me tell you something about the outlaw’s life: it isn’t all bullet holes and tattoos, bike chases and fights with the police. Sometimes, it’s just a business. Like today. Just unloading some parts, selling them on. Simple.”

 

“Simple,” she repeats.

 

What I don’t tell her is that Irish has a connection back in Ireland who lifts the parts from various businesses and smuggles them across the ocean for us. We get them for a fifth or their market value and sell them on for four times that, to a dealership that specializes in stolen parts. And then the dealership sells them onto a contact in the legitimate market, and they end up exactly where they would have, in the car of some middle-class dad. We make a boatload of cash just from transporting it between the dock and the illegal dealership. But of course, there’s no reason to tell Eden about all that.

 

She turns back to me, and from where I’m standing I can look down her tank top, just a tiny bit, but enough to get my blood running fire-hot. She sees me looking, and her mouth falls open.

 

“Are you serious?” she says.

 

“Not usually,” I answer. “But what are you talking about?”

 

She gestures at my face. “Stop staring at me like that. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

 

Her cheeks turn red, highlighting her well-defined cheekbones, and she bites her lip. It’s making her feel something, but I’m not sure it’s uncomfortable.

 

I shrug. “Whatever you say, Red.”

 

I stop looking at her breasts – her small, pert breasts – and look into her eyes instead. I’ve cracked enough women’s codes to know that Eden is conflicted right now, caught between horny and outraged.

 

“The men will be at this a while,” I say. “Shall we take a walk?”

 

“I should get back to work.”

 

“Okay.” I nod. Bullshit. She isn’t going back to work today. She’s a student. They make their own hours, just like me... perfect. I decide to call her bluff. “Shall I take you back into town, then?” I ask.

 

She squints at me like she’s trying to solve me. Don’t try it, Red. I’m the only code-reader here. Then her shoulders slump, and her beautiful body tenses, and she sighs. “No, let’s go for a walk.”

 

“Great,” I say.

 

I lead her down the dock, along the wall. We walk past the dockworkers until we come to the far end, next to a warehouse that isn’t being used at the moment, and then we continue walking until we are at the far, far end. The dock is crumbling here, the planks rotted, and no boats are tethered. Back the way we came, the sounds of work filter to us. Shouting and clanging and the rasp of metal.

 

But despite all that, it’s almost like we’re alone. When she looks at me, I feel something. I’m not sure what that something is. Lust is in there. But I think there’s something else.

 

Careful, I warn myself. Don’t get in too deep. Remember who you are.

 

But when Red smiles at me like that – shy and strong at the same time – it’s harder than it’s been with any other woman. And I’ve only known her for a goddamn hour!