“You must have spent a fortune on the customization.”

“Just the parts. My boys did all the work.”

“Your boys?”

“Chopper’s Custom Cars. I own it.”

“Oh. Who’s Chopper?”

“My dad. I think you met him at the barbecue. He was the one on the grill.”

“That’s your dad? He was sweet.”

“Sweet? Ain’t never heard anyone describe Chopper as ‘sweet’.”

“Well, he was.”

“Kissin’ on my Tattoos” alerts me of a text message and I pull my phone from my back pocket. It’s Toni.

T: Thought you wanted to talk?

R: Can’t right now. Call you tomorrow.

T: Is it about your hottie bf?

R: Yes and no.

“Put away the phone, Raven,” Gage growls.

I put it on vibrate and stick it into the jacket pocket. I know exactly what he’s thinking. “It’s not Chris.”

“I don’t care who it is. No interruptions. When you’re with me, no one else exists. Got it?”

“Whatever, Mr. Bossy.”

No one else exists. Who does he think he is? He pulls over in front of the local bakery, Sweet Treats, and shifts into park.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He returns a few minutes later with a plastic bag and hands it to me. I peer inside and see the strawberry cheese pastries I adore.

“How did you know I like these?” I ask, completely surprised.

“You were having them yesterday. I made you spill them. Figured I owe you.”

“Thank you.” I’m even more surprised he noticed. I open the container and dig in. A few pastries later, it hits me that I haven’t offered him any. “Would you like some?”

He gives me the crooked smile.

“Only if you feed me.”

“Fat chance.”

“Feed me.”

I have one at his lips before I even know what’s happening. He bites into it and I wait for him to swallow before I offer the other half. He takes it and leans forward, sucking the sugar from my index finger. I swallow hard as that now familiar tingle runs through my body.

“Mmm…they’re good.”

He jams on the brakes and I’m hurtled forward, then pulled back by the seatbelt.

“Jesus! What is it?”

“Fuck.”

I follow his gaze and see six men on motorcycles parked in front of the clubhouse. They don’t look like Dealers.

“Push the seat back and lie flat. Don’t get up until I tell you to, understand?”

“What’s going on?”

“Just do it.”

Fear takes over and I recline the seat and lie back, watching him. He continues slowly for about a minute, and then he comes to a stop again.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

He gets out but leaves the car running. I listen carefully, waiting for just a hint of the situation going south. I pull out my phone, ready to dial nine-one-one if it does. What am I saying? It would all be over by the time the cops got here.

“A little late for a house call, isn’t it, fellas?” Gage says.

“If it isn’t the Reaper himself.”

Mexicans. There’s no confusing our accent.

“What can I do for you, jefe?”

“This is business, couldn’t wait until tomorrow, ese.”

“What’s going on?”

“One of our shipments was jacked today. We got another one in two days, and we’re looking for some extra security.”

“I see.”

“I’ll give you fifty up front, another fifty when it gets to its destination.”

“I can do that. I’ll need specifics…transport vehicles, how many guys you got, routes.”

“Get with Pedro in the morning and he’ll give you everything you need.”

“Cool.”

The bikes start up and as soon as they sound far enough away, I sit up. I watch him in the car’s headlights, wondering what kind of illegal exchange I just heard. He climbs in, presses a button on a remote, and the gates of the clubhouse open.

“Security? I thought you customized cars.”

“I also own ‘12 Gauge Security’. I’m an entrepreneur, Miss Alvarez. I have my hand in many ventures.”

“I see. What else?”

“I also have a nightclub, and the MC owns the auto parts shop on Main Street, and a strip club outside of town.”

“The one where Lonnie works?”

“Yeah.”

He parks in a garage and we enter the building through what looks like a private entrance. I don’t know what I expected, but I’m pleasantly surprised by what I see. It looks like a laid-back sports bar. There’s a pool table in the middle of the room, a pinball machine in one corner, and a video poker machine in another. There are several flat-screen TVs hanging on the walls and there’s a DJ booth next to the bar. The club logo is on the wall behind the bar. A motorcycle muffler hangs beneath it with the inscription “Death before disloyalty”. The rest of the wall is decorated with pictures of members, and Harley paraphernalia.

“Wow.”

“Cool, huh?”

“It’s awesome.”

“You want something to drink?”

“Water, please.” I remove the hoodie and place it on the couch, before walking around and taking a closer look. It’s also surprisingly clean.

“So, what do you wanna do?”

You. Ugh. I take a big sip of my water. Hopefully it will quench this thirst.

“I don’t know. This was your idea.”

“Pool?”

“Okay.”

He hands me a cue and racks up the balls, while I chalk the tip. “You break.”

“Sure thing, baby doll.”

He breaks, and balls go rolling in all directions. Two drop into the corner pockets, a solid and a stripe.

“Solids.” He grins at me.

He moves around the table to where I’m standing, leaning over to take a shot. That’s when I see the gun handle sticking out of the back of his jeans.

“Is that a Glock seventeen?”

No doubt surprised, he scratches and turns toward me.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“My dad was a cop. He taught me a few things. Gen four?”

“Yeah.”

He removes it from his waist and hands it to me. “I love the new grip.” I release the magazine, check the chamber and point it right between his eyes. He grins, awe apparent in the blue orbs.

“Damn. You just might be the perfect woman.”

“Yeah? If you think so now, wait ‘til you see me shoot.”

I pull the trigger and he grabs my wrist, pulling me against him. I lean into him, shivering as he slides his hands around my waist.

“October can’t come quick enough.”

I step back with a coy smile, re-load the magazine, and hand it to him. He tucks it back into his waist.

“What’s so special about October?”

“Just wait and see, baby doll.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“I don’t know. It just fits you, I guess.”

“And all this?” I wave my hand around to indicate the current situation. “Why do you care? And don’t tell me that it’s because you want to fuck me. I know you don’t have a problem getting laid.”

“True. There’s just something about you. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Oh, you can put your finger and anything else you want on it! Jesus. The game. Just think about the game.

“You scratched. My turn.”

I pick up the cue ball and position it for an easy shot. As I’m about to take it, he presses against my ass. Holy fuck, he’s as hard as a rock. I put the cue down, closing my eyes as I straighten. I turn around slowly and he backs me up against the table.

“Or maybe Mark Twain was right. ‘There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable’.”

He’s quoting Twain? If he likes to read, then it’s my turn to think he’s perfect! He tangles his fingers in my hair and tugs my head back so I’m looking in his eyes.

“Stay away from me. Then you won’t be tempted.”

“‘I generally avoid temptation unless I can’t resist’. I believe that’s Mae West.”

My breath catches and I search my brain for an appropriate comeback.

“‘We gain the strength…of the temptation…we resist’, Ralph Waldo Emerson.”

I can hardly get my words out because I can barely breathe. This can’t be a normal reaction, can it? I’ve never been like this with anyone else. What is it about him?