Page 15 of Beware of Dog (Lean Dogs Legacy #6)

Jamie was too rattled to protest when Cass hailed them a cab and gave them an address.

Regulating her breathing seemed to occupy all of her thoughts and efforts right up until they stepped off the elevator and were met by Shep waiting with a shoulder resting against the doorjamb of the club apartment.

He looked good. One of the clinging white t-shirts that showed off his physique and a pair of low-slung black sweats. The hem of the shirt had ridden up on the right side when he folded his arms, and she could see the waistband of his boxers and a thin strip of bare skin.

Behind her, the elevator doors closed, and Jamie said, “Oh my God.”

Right. She wasn’t here to admire the scenery.

She reached back and snagged Jamie’s wrist before she could make a break for it. “Jamie, you remember my friend Shep. Shep, Jamie,” she said, towing Jamie along behind her toward the apartment door.

“I could’ve come to get you,” Shep said as they passed him and entered the apartment.

Cass didn’t release Jamie’s wrist until she heard the door shut. “Nonsense, we wouldn’t both fit on the bike.”

He sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

When she turned around, Shep still had his arms folded, bare feet braced apart on the carpet, stern and ready for an argument.

Jamie, by contrast, looked ready to faint.

Cass’s patience and empathy had grown thin to the point of fraying. She’d tried to be supportive, and understanding, and gentle, but right now, she couldn’t take one more second of helpless shivering. I’m a bad person , she thought, but she’d reached a wall.

“Jamie.” The snap in her voice grabbed Jamie’s attention, and held it. Cass pointed to the sofa. “Sit down.”

She sat.

“I’m going to tell you something,” Cass said, “and you can’t gasp. Okay? Not at all. Not even a little. You also can’t go spreading it all over campus.”

“Cass,” Shep warned.

She didn’t look at him. Stared down her roommate instead. “Okay?”

Curiosity began to overtake fear. Jamie’s posture relaxed a fraction. “Okay.”

“You know how I’ve told you my family’s huge? And that I have a whole mess of brothers? And they’re bikers?”

“Cass,” Shep said again. “Watch yourself.”

“Uh-huh,” Jamie said.

“All those brothers”—Cass’s breath hitched, a momentary burst of nerves, and a darted glance proved Shep was shaking his head and rolling his eyes, though he made no move to physically stop her from confessing this—“are Lean Dogs.”

Jamie blinked at her. “O…kay?”

Cass had geared herself up for this big confession, and it had never crossed her mind that anyone didn’t know who the Dogs were.

“The Lean Dogs,” she repeated.

“Okay,” Jamie said again, even more confused.

Shep snorted. “Jesus, I’m insulted.”

“Hush.” Cass waved at him. To Jamie: “The Lean Dogs Motorcycle Club ? They’re bikers. Outlaw bikers.” She stupidly mimed handlebars; twisted an imaginary throttle. “With the…you know. The bikes. And the leather. And the…” She gestured vaguely.

When Jamie looked between the two of them, brow furrowed, Shep turned and pulled his cut down off the coat rack by the door; shrugged it on and turned around so she could see the back: the running black dog and the top and bottom rockers.

“Oh.” Jamie sat up straighter. “The biker gang.”

“ Club ,” Shep and Cass said in unison, both of them harshly enough to make Jamie shrink back down again.

“It’s a club not a gang,” Cass said, softening, as Shep hung his cut back up. “They get touchy about the distinction.” She did too, apparently.

Jamie glanced over at Shep, who’d resumed his previous crossed-armed stance. “Is he one? A Lean Dog?”

“Yes. And he’s been my reluctant bodyguard ever since I moved here from London.”

Shep shifted his weight, his gaze trained on her, but Cass didn’t turn her head. She wasn’t sure what sort of reaction she wanted to her words, and found it wise not to search for one.

“The thing about the Lean Dogs,” she continued, “is that, no matter how powerful and influential Sig is, none of that matters when the Dogs are involved. They’ll”—she gestured to Shep—“keep us safe, no matter what Sig and his family try.”

Jamie looked between them, back and forth, back and forth. To Cass, she said, “You mean you’ll be safe.”

“If I say you’re safe with me, then you are,” Cass said, firmly.

Jamie studied her a long moment, then nodded, and glanced away.

~*~

As hoped, Shep produced a Valium from his extensive traveling med kit, and Cass went to get Jamie settled in the bunk room.

She was snoring by the time Cass slipped back out into the main part of the apartment, and Cass took a moment standing in the living room to catch her breath.

The stress of the day had left her feeling as though she’d run a footrace.

Her shoulders ached, and her eyes were gritty and tired, and she wanted this unasked-for debacle to be over already.

Shep was at the breakfast bar that separated kitchen from living room, chopping something on a wooden cutting board. Sports Center was on TV in the living room, but he turned his attention from it to shoot her an assessing look.

“She good?”

“She’s asleep.” Cass yawned, so wide her jaw cracked.

“Come here.” The knife scraped over the board and he motioned her closer with a tip of his head. “You can take over chopping.”

She went around the bar and stepped up beside him. Heat radiated off his bare arms; he smelled good, like Speed Stick and laundry detergent. If she leaned in close enough that their arms brushed, sue her. “Chop what?”

“Carrots.” He set two, freshly scrubbed, in front of her, along with the knife. “I already did the onion.” A neat pile of white squares rested in a bowl.

He turned toward the stove, and the pot waiting there, and Cass took up the knife and went to work on the carrots. She wasn’t looking to make a career as a chef, but there was something relaxing about the simple routines of cooking.

“What are you making?”

“Chicken soup.”

When she first met Shep, microwaving a burrito was a challenge for him.

He subsisted off protein powder, PowerBars, and takeout.

Then, slowly, he’d started introducing meals he’d prepared himself.

Simple, never fancy, but more nutritious.

The first time he cooked for her, Raven and Toly had been out of town and he’d stayed at the flat with her overnight.

She’d awakened the next morning to find him stewing and cursing over a pan of scrambled eggs that had wound up overcooked, but still edible.

So far, he’d dodged her efforts to find out why he’d started cooking. He would shrug tightly and say, “I dunno. Seemed like a good idea.” Every time she teased him about it, the tips of his ears turned grapefruit pink.

“That sounds cozy,” she said, slicing the carrots into neat rounds.

“Yeah, well.” She couldn’t see, but could hear the shrug in his voice. Smiled to herself as she pictured his ears. “There’s…” A glance over her shoulder proved he was gesturing with a wooden spoon. “Trauma and all that. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” she agreed, and turned back to the carrots.

Something hit the bottom of the pot and started to sizzle quietly. Shep turned for the onions, and when they landed the hissing intensified.

They worked in silence for a few minutes. When she was done with the carrots, she turned and scraped them into the pot. Shep added garlic, and the scent bloomed strong and welcoming through the kitchen.

When the chicken, rice, and broth were in, Shep put a lid on the pot and turned to lean back against the counter, hands braced on the edge of it, and fixed her with a look.

“I know,” she said, preemptively.

He cocked a brow. “You know what?”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

“And that is…?”

“It was reckless to tell her I was Dog-affiliated.”

He frowned. “You’re not as smart as you think you are, college girl.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “Um. Excuse me ?”

Amusement touched the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were big, and dark, and grave. “You can tell your friends whatever you want about your family.”

She lifted her brows.

“Not whatever ,” he conceded with a tip of his head. “But you can tell them you’re related to the club if you want. No one cares about that. I know you won’t spill secrets.

“What I was gonna say, before you get all offended for no reason, is that I seriously think you need to talk to your sister about what’s going on.”

That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. She covered her surprise with a dramatic eyeroll. “God, is that all anyone can think to tell me? ‘Call your sister.’ ‘Check in with your sister.’”

He wasn’t deterred. “This shit that’s going on with your friend is heavy.”

“Oh my God.”

“Shut up, brat, I’m being serious. It’s a big deal. The fact that it happened, yeah, but your friend’s a goddamn basket case, and you’re trying to support her all on your own. I think you need to talk to your sister, because I think you need someone to support you .”

“That’s…actually rather sweet.” And it was, as was the way he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “But I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not bothering Raven with this. Between the baby, and her business, she doesn’t have time for stupid drama.”

His head tilted to a rarely-used imploring angle, the one that reminded her, every time, that he’d seen active combat in the Army, and that he wasn’t the give-a-damn good-time guy his club brothers seemed to think he was. “It’s not stupid, and she would make time for you.”

“No. I said I wasn’t going to bother her, and I’m not.”

“Damn it, Cass,” he sighed, and wiped a hand down his jaw. Evening stubble was coming in, and rasped against his palm. “You need somebody in your corner.”

“I have you.”

He froze, hand halfway lowered, and darted a glance at her through half-lowered lashes.

“Don’t I?”