“What?” Trooper prompted, tilting his head to meet my gaze.
“Don’t laugh,” I said firmly.
“Do I look like I’m laughing right now, Shea?”
No. Definitely not. For the most part, Trooper didn’t take life too seriously. But when it came to situations like this—when shit hit the fan—he was dead serious in a heartbeat.
“I swear that Ritter tried to…smellme,” I admitted, resisting the urge to cringe at how crazy and paranoid it sounded when I said it aloud. “And now that I look back on all these little things adding up, he’s giving off vibes from a true crime documentary.”
Trooper growled.
“Great. So, he’s a freaky little pervert. Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
I groaned and rubbed my forehead.
“Because I’m a big girl and I wanted to handle my shit on my own. Besides, I’m a tattoo artist, Trooper. Do you have any idea how many people get fucking weird and inappropriate when they’re half naked in my chair under the gun? It comes with the territory.”
“You called me today though,” Trooper pointed out. “What changed?”
I swallowed hard at the memory and faltered. I could have easily run Ritter off with the shotgun I kept in the broom closet, but Trooper was the one I reached out to when I needed comfort and support.
Raine spoke before I could answer.
“He cracked a joke about how wonderful it would be to keep Shea all to himself. Like a butterfly, with pretty pinned wings.”
A shiver rippled down my spine. Ritter said a lot of bizarre things that weren’t socially acceptable, but most of the time, itsimply landed like a bad joke. I tried my best to sweep it under the rug and move on.
This time though…this time, it rattled me.
Trooper’s scowl deepened.
“I’ll talk to my club about putting a biker on you around the clock for protection. For now, Hades will keep an eye out until you close up shop tonight.”
“Trooper, no, that’s not necessary—”
“Too bad,” he cut in, leaning close.
For a wild split second, I was absolutely sure that he would kiss me again.
Then Trooper hooked a finger into the belt loop of my jeans with an affectionate tug.
“I don’t care if you fight me about it, Shea. This was a direct threat. I’m your friend and I don’t take that shit lightly.”
He had a point. Ritter wasn’t backing off. And if the cops wouldn’t help, this was my next best option.
Then Trooper pulled away. I felt a pang of loss. My lips still burned from the scorching kiss, and I wondered how long it would be before the memory of it would stop replaying in my mind, over and over.
“What about you, Raine?” Trooper asked. “Are you holding up okay?”
She tilted her head, tossing a lock of her golden brown hair over her shoulder.
“Well, I can’t really tell. You should probably make out with me, too. Then I could give you a more definitive answer.”
Trooper chuckled. “Do you really think that would do the trick? A little tongue to jog your memory?”
Raine nodded, sagely.
“Oh, definitely.”
