I blinked, the rapid movement of before and the stillness of now jarring me and my pounding head. “What?”
“The cop,” he said through his teeth. “Call. Him. Off.”
I folded my arms, mostly to make sure my hardened nipples weren’t going to peek through my cotton bra and the linen fabric over it.
Gage’s eyes immediately went there, and my nipples throbbed with his hungry gaze. I struggled to find words before I pounced him. “I thought you weren’t scared of him arresting you. And I’m sure he’s not actually going to, anyway, since I don’t think this really constitutes as theft.” I gestured out the window, which faced the garage. “Plus, no member of the Sons of Templar has had charges brought against them in roughly thirteen years,” I added. “Which means the chances of you getting arrested for technically doing a job connected to your legitimate business are pretty slim. Even if Troy wanted to, he couldn’t make anything stick.”
It was his turn to blink, the desire leaving his eyes as his stare met mine. “How the fuck do you know that?” he demanded, his voice cold. Menacing. Accusing.
I shrugged. Mostly because I needed to do that or I’d flinch in very real fear at the change in the man in front of me.
From Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde.
It wasn’t like he was hiding the darkness inside of him. One needed only eyes to see there was something inherently wrong with the attractive, muscled, blond-haired, tattooed biker.
But the change at my words was something more than that.
And I needed to not show that it scared me. Because didn’t monsters smell fear? Or was that horses?
“I’m a resident of the town,” I said, my voice clear. “I’m an employee of the paper. I know things.”
He stared at me for a long time, gaze ice, body taut, and hands curled into fists at his sides. The softening of his body, his gaze was barely noticeable, but I saw it. Saw him come to the conclusion that I was not some kind of spy sent in to bring them down.
Which he really only needed eyes to figure out.
Sure, spies didn’t look like spies. But people with that much darkness and menace inside of them had a way of recognizing it in others. And to be a spy, I’d have to be cold, calculating and a killer.
None of which I was.
All of which he was.
And yet I wasn’t running screaming from the compound.
Or at the very least briskly walking.
I was standing right there, in front of the man who looked like he might either kill me or kiss me.
And the logical Lauren who had ran the show for almost a decade was yelling at me that both options were unacceptable and I needed to get the heck out of there.
Like yesterday.
But that Lauren wasn’t in control.
The biker named Gage was.
And he was looking at me with slightly less murder in his eyes at that point.
“Well you obviously don’t know important shit,” Gage clipped. “Like the fact that I’m not talkin’ about a bullshit arrest I couldn’t give two fucks about.” He narrowed his eyes, still cold but hot with something else. “Talkin’ about how the cop wants a piece of you. You’re callin’ it off right now. Unless you want me to do it for you.” He grinned, and it wasn’t a warm smile. No, it sent actual shivers down my spine to match the ice inside of it. “And you don’t want me to do it for you.”
My stomach dipped, but then my back straightened as I struggled to not let him affect me. “Troy does not ‘want a piece of me,’ as you so eloquently put it,” I snapped, my backbone stronger than I had ever thought possible. “We went to high school together. He’s a nice guy. He’s looking out for me.”
Gage folded his arms, and I failed not to notice the way his tee strained as he did so. The way the fabric clung to his arms. I found myself wishing those arms weren’t covered by the long-sleeved tee so I could feast my eyes on them. Imagine them wrapped around me.
“You’re not naive.” His rough tenor jerked me out of my perusal of his arms. “Or innocent. As you made sure to tell me and my fuckin’ cock not five minutes ago,” he growled.
Another stomach dip, a much, much more intense one at the mention of his cock. I struggled to keep my eyes level with his stare. To keep my mind from going to what it would feel like inside me.
Too late.
My panties were soaked.
And I was obviously certifiably insane.
Maybe the crash had knocked something loose. Unhinged me.
But I thought back to a drawer in my closet. What I’d hidden in that drawer, stuffed out of sight, like I did with the thoughts that were harassing me right then. The desires I pretended I didn’t have.