No one moves. They know better. I’m protected, hell, I’m a Laramie, which carries its own weight with this crowd.
“It’s like that, bro?” Tito stares at me.
“Take it however you want,” I offer. “There’s not going to be any violence tonight. What will Lazaro say?” There’s a quick murmur—the other guests know better than to cause trouble in this house. “Let her go,now.”
He shrugs and looks at the girl, then back at me. “Just having some fun. You want the bitch? Take her.” He shoves the girl in my direction, but she manages to stay on her feet.
I lower my weapon. Never trust a roomful of heroin dealers. The girl still hasn’t looked at me directly. Instead, she collects her bag. Then I watch as she races for the door. The crowd parts, letting her go.
What the fuck? Lazaro doesn’t like unnecessary violence, and he sure as hell wouldn’t like anyone abusing women, stripper or otherwise. Hell, I don’t accept it on any level. And if this were my house, Tito would get a bullet. I whip around and address him. “That’s bullshit,” I yell. “What the fuck were you thinking?” But I don’t have time to stick around and find out.
Tito gives me a shrug. “What Lazaro doesn’t see . . .”
“Might come back and bite you in the ass,” I warn, my blood still boiling.
I stalk outside, hoping to catch the girl. She’s near the pool. The soft lighting reveals a perfect body. Nothing but silky skin and curves. Especially her ass.
“Sorry for what happened,” I say.
She doesn’t respond.
“Why were you alone in there?” I’m pissed, and it’s evident in my icy tone. I’ve buried several passarounds who were careless enough to turn tricks outside of the MC. Where’s this girl’s escort? All dancers have security. Or is she stupid enough to risk her life for a few hundred dollars?
When she finally looks at me, I swear my heart stops. Angry green eyes pierce me. Dark curls tumble down her shoulders. And that mouth.Dios mio,I’m thinking unnatural thoughts. My gaze sweeps her body again.
“Up here.” She snaps her fingers and points at her eyes.
I smile—filthy thoughts swirl through my mind. I’d like to bend her over one of those lounge chairs and give her a reason to bitch me out. But there’s more to the instant attraction. I can’t explain it—don’t want to. “Where do you expect me to look when you’re half naked?”
She puts her hand on her hip. “Anywhere above the shoulders is safe.”
Nothing about her is safe. “I think you owe me a thank you.”
I get afuck youscowl. “I handled it.”
“Really?” I laugh. “Loved the gun thing—is that a new trick?” I hope I’m coming off as an asshole; she needs to remember this moment so she never makes the same mistake again.
She slaps my face. “Thanks, douchebag. Will that do?”
I rub my cheek, aware that I deserved it. Throwing attitude at a girl who just got the shit scared out of her was a bad move. On top of that, she’s beautiful and wild. But when she raises her hand again, I snatch her wrist midair, and she trembles on contact. “The first one was a freebie,” I say. “Come with me.”
Refusal isn’t an option. I drag her to the cabana, push her inside, then close and lock the door. “Sit.”
She plops down on one of the overstuffed chairs. I open the mini fridge, searching for anything with alcohol. She needs a drink and so do I. There’s beer and wine coolers. I look over my shoulder at her, trying to guess what she’d like. Red wine. I grab the closest thing—a wine cooler—and open it. I knee the fridge shut and walk to her chair.
She accepts the drink and gulps like she’s dying of thirst. “Thank you,” she says between swallows.
I nod and claim the chair opposite hers. “You’re safe with me.”
“Am I?” She looks me over, looking doubtful.
Has she been in a similar situation before? Does she distrust men in general, or just ones that wear patches? “If you weren’t . . .”
“I don’t need you to explain.” She holds up her hand. “I’m not an idiot.”
“No?”
She glares. “I suppose you think I am for being alone down there. It didn’t start out that way, believe me.”
