(Club Chrome MC 2) All Dogs Bite (2 page)

“So…who shot you?”

“Better you keep your questions to yourself. Safer that way.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have climbed through my window,” she countered, her blue eyes dancing. “So…you’re a Road Dog?”

“How’d you know?” he asked and she pointed to his leather jacket. Ah, the patch. “Pretty observant. What else have you figured out?”

“I figured out that you probably didn’t get shot over Girl Scout cookies. Was it illegal?”

“What do you think?”

“I think it was.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“Did you deserve it?”

He shot her an irritated look. “You’re sure full of fucking questions and no, I didn’t deserve it. I got double-crossed and when I find who did this to me, I’m gonna fuck up their world. See? Better off that you stop asking questions.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Are you fucking deaf?” Who was this chick? And what the hell was she hoping to gain by asking all these questions. A sudden suspicion entered his mind. “You working for the Kings?”

She straightened and laughed as if the question was something silly to ask. Her laughter had a musical quality that he liked but didn’t fucking like being laughed at. “What’s so funny?”

“Just that you would think that I would run with a motorcycle gang. I mean, it’s kind of flattering, you know? I never imagined that someone might consider me a badass like that.”

He saw her point — she was wholesome, down to the white T-shirt and the white panties he could see through her shirt, which was fucking sexy, by the way — and grudgingly doused his quick fuse. “All right, you’re no motorcycle chick. So what’s your deal? Why didn’t you call the cops?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Should I have? I mean, are you going to hurt me?”

“If I were, do you think I would tell you?”

“Fair point.” A beat passed between them. “So…what happens now?”

He smirked. “We could fuck.”

She gasped and her cheeks colored even as her eyes widened with shock and maybe a little arousal. “Excuse me? Where I come from you don’t just throw out an invitation like that to a complete stranger. I mean, goodness! I’m not that kind of girl,” she finished primly.

“No? Too bad cuz I’m exactly that kind of man,” he said, sighing as he took another sip of the coffee, mildly enjoying the odd exchange between them. “But you’d have to expect something of the sort from someone who’d been shot doing something illegal, right?”

“Are you a bad man?”

He grinned in spite of the pain splitting his side. “The worst.”

She drew back, not quite sure what to make of him, biting down on her lip in a way that made him want to do it for her. “I could call the cops.”

“You could but you won’t.”

“And why won’t I?”

“Because if you were going to, you would’ve already.”

She tucked her feet beneath her but not before he caught a tantalizing view of pretty pedicured toes. He swallowed, hiding the immediate, visceral shot to the groin seeing her painted toes caused, and realized he had two choices: one, he could leave and in his weakened state, be a sitting a duck for whomever had tried to put him down; or two, he could hide out with this odd but intriguing woman while he recovered, buying him some time to rest up and formulate a plan to find out who he was going to put in the ground for this betrayal. A quick look over the rim of his mug told him more about the woman — she was thick. Big tits, round hips and thick thighs. She’d be relatively easy to seduce. Fat chicks had terrible self-esteem, right? All he had to do was show her a little loving and she’d fall at his feet, ready to do whatever he needed her to do. Not a bad plan. Yeah, not bad at all. This place was a perfect hide-out, too. No one would ever think to look for him here. “So…my name’s Bronx…what’s yours?”

“Delainey but my friends call me Dee.”

He waited a moment, then asked in a low, teasing voice. “Are we going to be friends?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, watching him. “Logic tells me probably not but…there’s something about you that’s pretty exciting.”

“You mean, aside from the obvious?” He pointed at his bandaged wound and she grinned. Hell, she had a great smile — in fact, it light up her whole face and suddenly, she was almost pretty. Okay, he was downplaying things a bit. She wasn’t hard on the eyes. Everything about her was soft and sweet, a definite 180 from the chicks he usually fucked around with and his fat cock was nearly busting through his jeans, ready to agree with him.

“Yeah, aside from the obvious. Let’s just say I agree…will I live to regret this newfound friendship?”

“Probably,” he said with complete honesty, then hit her with a charming smile of his own. “But it’ll be a wild ride, for sure. You game for a little excitement in your life?”
Hello, magic words.
Her pupils dilated and her tongue darted out and she nodded slowly, almost reluctantly, only he saw the arousal in her flushed cheeks and shortened breath and he knew he had her. Oh yeah, this chick would be easy to manipulate and it might even be a little fun, too. “All right,
Dee
, buckle up, baby, cuz this joy ride is dangerous.”

-2-

“
Fffffuck
! What are you telling me that you couldn’t find him after you shot him? You had one fucking job, you idiot — Kill Bronx — that’s it! How fucking hard is it to put a bullet in someone’s motherfucking head?”

“He must’ve sensed something was off because he bolted but I got him. He’s wounded. Hell, he could be dead in a ditch somewhere. I got him good.”

“If that were true, you’d be telling me the news I wanted to hear —
Bronx is dead
— but you’re not telling me that are you?”

Lank hair hung in the man’s eyes as he swallowed visibly. “No,” he finally muttered before promising, “We’ll find him. I swear it. He won’t live long.”

“Oh, you swear it? What the fuck does that mean to me? You failed once. What makes you think you can succeed a second time. We no longer have the element of surprise, shit-for-brains. He’ll be on guard, watching and waiting for the hammer to drop, all the while actively on the look-out for who was behind the drop,” she screeched, shoving the man to the ground. It wouldn’t take long for Bronx to figure out who’d double-crossed him and when he did, she was as good as dead. The deal had gone all wrong. This was her punishment for sending someone else to do the dirty work.

“He’s gonna need a hospital. All we gotta do is keep an eye out for him,” the man said, scrambling to his feet but keeping distance between them. “And someone will talk if he tries hiding out at his usual haunts. Chances are he’ll end up at a chick’s house, someone he’s banging or banged in the past.”

“Jesus, we’d have to canvas the whole fucking city, the whore. He fucks anything with a hole.”

“Yeah, but word will spread if anyone is harboring an injured man. Just be patient. He’ll turn up.”

She glared. The man was lethal and they’d just failed in their attempt at taking him out. Yeah, she was royally fucked if she didn’t find Bronx before Bronx found her.

***

Was it completely insane that she was allowing a stranger to hole up in her house? Yep. But she’d be a liar if she didn’t feel a certain sense of wild adventure thrumming through her veins at the obvious recklessness. Her life had been so staid as of late. Internet dating was dull — or, the only guys interested in her profile were the dull ones — and there was something irresistible about Bronx. Even his name was sexy in a bad-ass way. BRONX. She rolled the name around on her tongue, liking the way it tasted. She rinsed out their coffee mugs and put them away, secretly delighted that she had
two
mugs to clear away — okay, don’t judge — and then realized she needed to check his bandage.

“Can I check your wound?” she asked, gesturing to his bandages. “You really need to keep it clean or it could get infected and once that happens, I’d have to take you to the hospital.”

“By all means, please do,” he said, lifting his shirt, giving her unrestricted access to his glorious, yet injured, body. Ohhh, he had perfect abs. The kind usually reserved for underwear ads on billboards, you know? He grinned at her sudden blush when she stared at little too hard. “Like what you see?”

Snap out of it.
Don’t be so ridiculous, she chastised herself. But it was hard because he was so handsome. No, handsome wasn’t the word. He was…delicious. “Right,” she said, training her expression to appear less affected by his body. “Um, so, you need to clean up. All this dried blood isn’t helping and besides, it’s gross. Can you manage to stand on your own?”

“I think so,” he said, slowly rising from the sofa, wincing with obvious pain. He rocked on his heels and nearly tipped over but Delainey was there in an instant to catch him. His chagrined smile was adorable, damn it, as he admitted sheepishly, “Maybe not,” shooting an uncertain glance at her. “Maybe I can just wipe down or something?”

The answer was obvious — she was an adult, she could handle it. “No, don’t be silly. We’re both adults. I can help you wash if you don’t mind me seeing you naked.” Holy cow! How had she managed to get those words out of her mouth without choking on them? Her cheeks started to betray her so she tacked on, “I took ROTC nursing training in high school so, yeah, naked bodies don’t phase me.”
LIAR
. His naked body would definitely phase her. The sight of it might even put her into a swoon like a Victorian lady with her stays too tight but c’mon, the man was in dire need! She couldn’t very well refuse to help him just because he made her tummy tingle in a naughty way, right? She straightened and asked briskly, “So, what’s it going to be?”

“Well, since you’re offering…a shower would be great. I feel like shit and probably smell the same. You sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” she said quickly, perhaps too quickly.
Get out of there and get your head together before he realizes that seeing him naked might just be the highlight of your damn life
! She managed a curt nod before saying, “I’ll get the water going” and then split the room.

Naked. A naked man. In her shower. When was the last time she’d seen a naked man in her shower? NEVER. Her dating adventures thus far in her life had been woefully inadequate and definitely lacking in the
adventure
part. She should call Zoe. And tell her what, exactly? Delainey wrung her hands and then shook them out. She’d lectured Zoe on grabbing onto opportunity with both hands and yet, here she was, shaking and trembling like a ninny at the first presentation. This was her chance to inject a little wildness into her life.
So take it
! She had her whole life to date dull, responsible men who drove hybrid cars and recycled their plastics (not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course, but something told her that Bronx didn’t give two shits about his carbon footprint — such a bad boy! — And damn it, for some reason, that was incredibly hot). This might be her chance to take a stroll on the crazy side, to do something so insanely inappropriate that she wouldn’t be able to talk about it in polite company without stammering and blushing and wanting to hide under the sofa for fear of being judged. Her bathroom began to fill with steam and she realized she’d been hiding for too long.
You got this. Take the bull by the horns, er, or well, just grab something, girl and stop being such a pansy!
Right! “Are you ready for me?” she called out and his answer nearly undid her.

“Not the right question, babe. The right question is…are you ready for me?”

Delainey squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her fingers — for what, she wasn’t sure — but it seemed like the right thing to do and then, head lifted and shoulders squared, she returned to the living room to find Bronx, naked and waiting — with a big, fat hard-on.

Oh. Damn.

Wild side officially commencing.

***

It was a bold move for sure, but Bronx was curious as to what his chubby Nightengale would do when faced with him, naked and ready. Her reaction was pure hot with a side of
holy-fuck-wasn’t-expecting-to-feel-that-rush-of-primal-awareness
and Bronx hardened even more. He cast her a slyly apologetic look as he gestured to his erection, saying, “Sorry…can’t help it. Morning wood and all that.”

She gulped and jerked a short nod. “Of course. You can’t help it. It’s simple biology, not because you find me attractive.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” he corrected her easily. “I’m just saying, all things considered, I’m not trying to be a perv when you’re being so nice about helping me when you don’t have to, you know?”

“Oh, right. Okay, let’s get you in the shower before the hot water runs out,” she said, trying to avoid staring at his junk, which he found oddly cute. He’d taken a quick look around the living room and found no pictures or any other evidence to suggest that she had a boyfriend but she did seem to enjoy cats quite a bit, even though as far as he could tell, she didn’t actually own a cat. She slipped her arm under his shoulder and helped him to her bedroom, where the steam beckoned from her adjoining bathroom. Her room was decidedly feminine, just like her. Very girly with pink and black decor, like that French stuff you see in upscale boutiques. And more pictures of cats. That was a bit weird. She glanced at him nervously, her face inches from his and he wondered if he ought to kiss her. No, not yet. She’d bolt. She wanted it, but she wasn’t sure how to deal with her feelings. One thing Bronx was good at — reading women — and he wasn’t beneath using all his knowledge to his advantage. He wobbled as she helped him into the spray and groaned in real pain. Her eyes widened with concern. “Are you okay? Do you think you can stand on your own?”

“I hate to say this but…I think I need your help. Do you mind getting in with me?” he asked, and this wasn’t a ploy. His side was killing him. Fuck. He was weak as a damn mouse. So much for putting his killer moves on the woman. He could barely stand. A moment of indecision flashed through her eyes but she bravely stepped inside the shower with him, her T-shirt plastering quickly to her curves. Her tits, nice, round and more than a handful, were right at his face as she helped him to sit on the small ledge, blocking the spray for him before adjusting the nozzle away from them. He wanted to squeeze those abundant globes so badly, his hands began to shake. He could easily imagine sliding his cock between the valley of that glorious flesh and coming all over her chest, maybe even spraying her face with his load. Her hips flared, inviting a man to grip as he pounded into all that sweet, jiggling flesh, and he had to remind himself that he was playing a game, not playing for keeps. “You’re a good girl,” he said, maybe for his own sake but Delainey seemed to take it as an insult.