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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
My already brisk pace down the spiral staircase of my loft increases when three quick taps hit the front door of my apartment. I finish buttoning my jeans before swinging open the door. Diesel greets me with a broad grin and the key for my bike dangling from his index finger. “Thought you might need these,” he says before attempting to enter my apartment.
I step into his path, blocking his entrance. “Clara is still sleeping,” I advise him, my voice rough from just waking up. “She’s not appropriately dressed for guests.”
Diesel’s bawdy grin turns huge. “So a shit night transformed into a good one?” He waggles his brows before curling his arm around my neck to noogie the top of my head.
I punch him in the ribs, winding him. “Not exactly, asshole. She didn’t have any other place to go.”
He takes a step back and peers into my eyes. “You still playing with that overstacked deck?”
I scoff. “Only as long as it takes for her shock to wear off.” My tone has a smear of annoyance attached to it. “Wouldn’t be much of a man if I took advantage of her while she was in shock.”
Diesel’s lips purse before he curtly nods. “True. Didn’t think about that.”
“You don’t really think about anything,” I quip.
His smile enlarges. “True.” He props his shoulder onto the doorjamb of my entryway. “We found two of the guys who jumped Clara last night.”
My eyes drop to his knuckles. I’m not at all surprised to see they’re busted. “Did you call Ryan?”
Diesel bites his lip. “Yeah… after I had a quiet word with them.”
“Were they locals?”
He shakes his head. I’m not shocked by this revelation either. Inked has had a not-to-be-messed-with stigma attached to it from the day Ryder opened the doors. There’s also the fact most of the crew who work there are born and bred Ravenshoe residents.
Ravenshoe locals protect their own.
“Did they have any of Clara’s jewelry on them?”
My heart stops beating as I wait for Diesel to reply. It feels like I’m sucker-punched when he briefly shakes his head. “I checked. They had nothing on them. For how well they kept their mouth shut, I think they’re nothing but bottom feeders. When we snag the main guy, we might have a better chance of getting her stuff back.” He pushes off the doorjamb. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it. Just wanted to let you know Johnny and I are handling everything.” He flicks his eyes up to my loft bedroom. “You look after her.”
Nodding, I shadow him down the corridor.
“I parked your bike half a block down because I didn’t knowthe code for the underground garage,” he advises when he reaches the peak of the staircase.
I run my hand across my tired eyes. “Thanks. I’ll move it into the garage later.”
Diesel’s brows shoot up into his hairline when I hold out my hand for him to shake. “Since when have you been a shaking-hands type of man?” he jests before wrapping his arms around my shoulders and drawing me in for a man hug. A chuckle escapes from my lips when he adds to Charity’s request last night. “Take care of Clara for me. If not, step aside and let a real man show you how it’s done.”
He stumbles down the first three steps when I jab my fist into his right rib. After regaining his footing, he salutes me with two middle fingers before galloping down the stairs. His hearty chuckle is still bellowing up the stairwell when I amble back to my apartment.
My eyes lift from the tiled floor in my kitchen when a creak sounds through my ears. I adjust my grip on the mug of coffee I’ve been nursing for the past thirty minutes when Clara saunters down the staircase and floats across the room wearing nothing but my navy-blue shirt she left crumpled on my floor last night. Her face is creased from where it was pressed against my chest, her hair is a mess, and her face is void of any of the makeup she typically wears, but she still looks one hundred percent appetizing.
“This is even more embarrassing than the walk of shame.” She tugs down the hem of my shirt. “Where are my clothes?”
I crack a smile. “They’re in the wash.” I nudge my head to thelaundry room attached to my kitchen. “They should be ready in around forty minutes.”Or eighty, since I’m close to extending the wash cycle.Seeing her in nothing but my shirt is a cock-twitching visual I want to retain as long as possible.
Clara’s eyes drop to the coffee mug in my hand as she slips onto a barstool.
“Coffee?”
She smiles. “Yes, please.”
After filling a second mug with coffee, I place it in front of her before moving to the refrigerator to grab a carton of milk. Unlike me, Clara has her coffee with cream.
I tilt my torso out of the refrigerator when she quietly mutters, “I’m sorry about last night.”