Charlotte

The truth was, I had no idea what a motorcycle club looked like, or who would be in it, or what I would do there. I had never even watched Sons of Anarchy. I had no idea what to expect from a man who called himself White Castle. But I wasn’t going to sit at home, staring at the wall, while Ben Hanratty saved my brother.

I went home to my little apartment above the candy store, took a shower, and changed. I didn’t know much about how to dress for an MC club, but I went with jeans plus tank top with shirt buttoned over it. The shirt was navy blue, tucked at the waist to be form-fitting, but still covered all of my skin. Feminine, with a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe. I tied my hair back and added heeled ankle boots and hoped it was good enough.

I’d given Ben my address and my phone number, and while I waited for him to show up, it felt oddly like a date. Which it definitely was not. Ben was my lawyer, and my boss, and we were going to interview someone I had to assume was a criminal, about some kind of criminal shit. It didn’t matter that I had the urge to peel Ben’s leather coat off him every time I looked at him. No, no. This was serious.

Why the hell didn’t you tell me what was going on, Jeremy?

I wished my brother was out of jail and in front of me right now, so I could grab him and shake him. What the hell was he into? Why didn’t he talk to me about it? It was just us now—me in this little apartment, tending bar and trying to get ahead, while he lived with roommates and looked for programming work. Okay, maybe we weren’t as close as we could be—I tended to try and butt in to his business, and he tended to push me away. But we were close enough. We’d waded through the disaster three years ago, while Mom left and we sold the house and figured out how much money we owed. Well—I’d done most of that, to be honest. He’d mostly just complained and wondered what we were going to do, until I came up with the idea for the programming course. But he’d been around. And now this.

Ben was right. Jeremy had requested him, and only him, because Ben had an in with this motorcycle club. Because Jeremy knew full well it was the motorcycle club that had framed him, and he also knew why. But he’d called me from jail, and told me to get Ben, and then he hadn’t told me another damn thing about what was happening.

It hurt.

At midnight, a text came through from Ben: I’m outside.

I grabbed my purse and came downstairs to find his car—the beat-up Civic—parked on the street in front of the candy store. I looked up and down the dark street and saw no sign of Ben.

“Hey,” he said, coming out of the alley behind me that led around the back of the building.

I jumped and stared at him. “What are you doing?”

On the sidewalk now, he tilted his head back and looked up at my apartment windows. He was wearing the same clothes as earlier, including the leather coat, and from this angle I could see the strong, perfect line of his neck and chin. “There’s a fire escape back there,” he commented. “Around the back of the building.”

“Of course there is,” I said. “In case of, you know, a fire.”

He still looked up, though he took a step to one side so he could see a different angle. “Someone could get up that thing and go right to your back door.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “No one’s ever done it.”

“I did, just now.” Ben stopped staring at my windows and looked at me. “Your back door only has a bolt on it. An intruder could bust that open with something heavy, or even with his foot if he’s big enough.”

I felt my jaw drop open. “You just climbed my fire escape to my back door?”

“Ten minutes ago,” he said. “I was standing there when I texted you.”

I felt my mental hackles go up. “That’s not funny, Ben,” I said. “It’s fucking rude.”

“I know it’s not funny,” he shot back. “You know what else isn’t funny? There’s no alarm on that door.” He pointed to the front door of the candy shop. “Not even a camera. Just a couple of locks. Are they just hoping that robbers will take a few Twizzlers and move on?”

“I don’t think they’ve ever been robbed,” I said.

“And that door,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “The one you use to go upstairs to your apartment. No alarm, no camera, hardly a fucking thing. Even your windows are the old fashioned kind that slide up. Your apartment, Charlotte, is not fucking safe. Not for a woman alone.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, defensive because he was right, and those same things had been bothering me—but fuck if I’d admit it. “How do you know I’m a woman alone?” I asked him.

“Because,” he said, “I just stood at your back door. And I looked through the window. And there’s no sign of a guy in your apartment.” He took a step closer. “You need to be more careful. I mean it.”

I looked up into his face. This wasn’t just everyday concern. There was something else going on as well. “What is it?” I said. “What’s got you all worried about my safety? Just tell me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, Charlotte.”

I fought back the surprising pulse of pleasure that hit me when he said my name. “Out with it,” I told him. “Come on.”

He sighed darkly. “It’s possible that the Lake of Fire knows who you are. And is willing to use you as a threat to your brother. Got me?”

My stomach fell. Like went into freefall, so fast I almost felt dizzy. “Excuse me?” I managed. “Are you saying I’m being threatened by bikers?”

“Not anymore.” Ben’s voice was like steel. “Not after tonight. But this shit—you coming and going alone, in that unsecure apartment. This shit is not a good idea right now.”

“Oh, my god.” I glanced back at my apartment, as if the dark windows would give me some answers. “You mean they know where I live?”

It was a stupid question—anyone could find me, really. But there was no derision in his voice when he said, “Yeah. They probably know. Or they will soon.”

I thought back. I hadn’t seen anyone strange or creepy when I came and went. Then again, Jeremy had only been arrested this afternoon, so whatever this vendetta was, it was new. “I’ll get an alarm system,” I said.

“I have a better idea,” Ben said. “Move in with me.”

I laughed, a sound that wasn’t very amused, but there wasn’t a flicker of humor in his expression. “Come on,” I said. “You can’t be serious.”

“Yeah, I can,” he said. “I have a big house, plenty of room. You’d have a guest room with your own bathroom. You’d never even have to set eyes on me unless you want to.”

“Right,” I said. “And I’d do this why? Because you have an alarm system?”

“The people I deal with,” Ben said, “I’m wired to the fucking nines.”

He was serious. He really was. It sounded like a come-on, but then it hit me: I didn’t know if he was even single. “Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re not married, are you?”

His face went carefully blank. But something flickered across it first—a wince of amusement, mixed with something deeper. “I am very much not married,” he said, his voice flat. “And I don’t have a girlfriend. So yeah, it would be you and me.”

I stared at him. I was going to open my mouth and say something cutting, something about how he was trying to get me into bed, or about how this was really how he expected me to pay my bill—but I didn’t. Because that wasn’t what this was, and somehow I knew it. Maybe Ben wouldn’t mind getting me into bed—I had the feeling that if I showed up there and offered, he wouldn’t say no—but he wasn’t scheming to fuck me. Something told me that if Ben wanted to fuck me, he wouldn’t trick me. He’d just ask.

Which was an interesting idea.

Yeah, it would be just you and me.

I thought it over. Ben was sincerely concerned about me. And he knew more about this situation than I did. But spending the night with a man I’d just met, no matter who he was, was pure stupidity. Because I didn’t really know him at all.

“No,” I told him.

Ben shook his head. “Reconsider.”

“Okay.” I gave it a few seconds. “No again.”

“Charlotte. You’re hot and all, but I’m not being a creep here. I think you should consider it.”

I felt my cheeks try to heat in pleasure, but I fought it back. “You calling me hot is not making it less creepy, Ben.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Fine. But remember the offer is open.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

“Jesus, what am I doing?” He turned back to the car and opened the passenger door. “I must be losing my mind. Let’s go.”