“No, please don’t,” he begs, eyes wide with genuine fear. The reason that he’s afraid is a good one. As time has passed, the residents of Steeleville have understood why crime is so low here, because we don’t tolerate fuck heads. Everyone that has come after the Steele Riders has gone to jail, mysteriously disappeared, or outright has been justifiably killed.
“Shut the fuck up and sit back.” I close the door and turn back to the karate Barbie, leaning against the wall, giving me a deadly stare. Behind her vicious glare is something else that I can’t wait to explore. It’s been years in the making. I didn’t know it at the time, but something in me has always wanted to be her protector. Now I want so much more.
I approach with a smirk. “If looks could kill, Ms. Gordon.”
She lifts up her chin with an air of irritation and says, “You threatened to arrest me.”
I chuckle, moving in closer so that we’re less than a foot apart. Normally I wouldn’t invade someone’s space like this, but she’s got me fucked up and I need to show her who is in charge here. “You tried to hit me in the nuts, sweetheart. I assure you that wouldn’t be a smart move.”
She dips her head, losing some of that bravado. “Fair enough. I’m sorry about that.”
With my finger under her jaw, I lift her gaze to mine and says, “Good girl.” She blushes and I want to see how fucking far that pink spreads. Clearing my throat, I continue. “I need to ask you some questions. Let’s go inside the bookstore and talk.”
Most of the onlookers have returned to their business and or are out of listening distance, so I’m not sure who called the cops until I see Doc’s wife, Sophia, peeking out of the bookstore window. She’s pregnant and wouldn’t have gotten involved because she knows better, but I bet she called the station and her husband.
“Good because my purse is still inside.”
“You all don’t need to keep an eye on that fucker. He’s fine right there. Although I should have Doc look him over just in case,” I tell Jackson and Mick.
“He’s already on his way,” Jackson says.
“Good. I’ll be inside with her.” They both nod, and then I open the door and gesture for her to lead the way. She nods and enters without another word.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t do anything to stop him.” I can see that she’d been crying, which will piss Doc off enough to want Darrell’s head.
I reach out and pull her in for a quick hug. Doc doesn’t need her stressing out in the least. Rubbing her back, I release her and say, “Calm down, Sophia. You know damn well you’d be in a world of trouble, and he’d be dead if you stepped between them. Where is her purse?”
“Right here.” She hands a cute pink bag over to my future wife. As soon as she opens it, I see a firearm, so I snatch the bag from her hand.
“What the hell?” Vanessa gripes, staring at me with wide eyes and mouth open.
I reach over and close her mouth. “Don’t ‘what the hell’ me, young lady. You have a gun in your purse.”
Unlike other members of the public I encounter with weapons, I’m not worried about my safety; I’m worried about hers. What is she doing with a gun in the first place, and does she know how to use it? How did I miss this?
“It’s for protection and as a last resort.” I stare at Vanessa, wondering if this has anything to do with Thomas Strand. If so, I’ll hang him up by his balls and drain him dry.
“Take a seat,” I snarl, shoving her bottom down into a chair. Her lips part in shock and disbelief, but I’m so wound up with the urge to tell her she belongs to me. A fucking first in my life.
“Sophia, lock the doors for now.” Although my command is stern, I don’t dare raise my voice to her.
“Yes, Law.”
My feisty, deadly kitten looks between us. I suspect a hint of jealousy, but she’s got nothing to worry about.
“Let’s start with your full name.”
“You know it already or have you forgotten me again.”
“It’s procedure. Damn it.”
“It’s on my ID.” Fucking hell, if she weren’t just harassed by a pervert, I’d tell her what I’d like to do to her bottom right now. Her ass would be turning pink with the image of my handprint.
“Little girl, you’re running on thin ice. Answer the fucking question, or I’ll send over another car to pick him up and take you in mine.” Sophia smiles behind my brat.
“Fine, it’s Vanessa Jane Gordon.”
Soon to be Vanessa J. Lawrence, I think to myself. I don’t need her birthday or her age, but I ask those questions anyway because I want to pretend she told them to me. She can’t know that I fucking know almost everything about her including that she has a secret publishing career. It’s information I have stored in my memory. Hell, I own all versions of her book and I love it.