Page 21

Puck

I kept reminding myself this was different from that night at the frat house.

There was no immediate danger to Kenna, not before we got there.

But I still took the lead as we rode out, Cam to my right just behind me.

Merc just to the left. The others behind them.

We didn’t ride in with everyone, no reason for Jester to ride in front or me in the back.

But it was the full table plus Chop. Pork Chop wasn’t letting this one go, not with the kid still banged up at his mom’s house recovering from a broken collarbone and pretty gnarly concussion.

We cut the engines and coasted in, except for the decoys.

AP had made Pork Chop, Dekes and himself buzz the bar, ride by full out to cover the sound of us coasting in.

The tiny bar with the tin roof and faded neon sign had a half-full parking lot.

A Yamaha street bike was parked right beside a newish silver Chevy truck with a Harley bumper sticker.

As I kicked my stand out and climbed off, I jerked my chin at them. “Our guys?”

Cam glanced around the parking lot. A couple of contractors’ trucks and two sedans. “Bet my ass it is.”

He lit a cigarette and leaned against the bike while Merc and Jester walked over.

“After you, sunshine.” Jester made a grand sweeping gesture to Cam. A reminder of how good it was to have him back. There was never a question who was walking in first. Especially if it was about to get messy.

Cam shoved through the door, taking a drag off his cigarette, and surveyed the room. His body lax, like it was just your average Saturday night. Even when his gaze zeroed in on the assholes in our cuts.

One sat in a booth with a woman on his lap.

And the other— My chest clenched tight, jealousy rocketing out from that point to my extremities.

Kenna stood on the small round table in those black, fuck me boots that ran all the way to her thighs and a tiny black dress.

The guy leaned forward, trying to get a good look up it.

She leaned forward, pressing the hem of her skirt against her thighs; her smile flirty.

Fake as all fuck but still flirting.

I knew, because I’d been on the receiving end of the real one and it turned me inside out every time. Glancing past her to the woman on the other guy’s lap, I cursed under my breath. I didn’t have a sister—but Eli’s aunt was close enough. Fucking Whitney. Of course they’d be friends.

Double trouble.

“What’s up, guys?” Cam slapped one on the shoulder, hard, squeezing the leather. Dude spun to him, arm out like he might swing, and dropped it when he saw me round Cam’s other side.

Dude with him, the one who’d tried to look up Kenna’s skirt, whipped out his phone. But Jester was there, smacking it out of his hand to where it slid and bounced across the floor. Then wagged a finger in the guy’s face, chiding him like a child.

Kenna paid them no attention. She was staring straight at me, lip twisted up in a bratty little smile. Made me want to toss her over my knee and spank her ass until she begged me to stop. But she wouldn’t, which would make it that much more fun.

I held my hand out to her, and when she didn’t take it, I snatched hers.

The flirty smile she aimed at me was real, and she stepped down onto the chair across from the two assholes.

She teetered a little, draped her arms over my shoulders, and leaned in.

When she did, I gripped the back of her neck and jerked her face down to mine. The rest of them be damned.

When I kissed her, it was with fierce, possessive intent. This woman was mine. Whatever he thought he could see up her skirt—he’d never touch. The voice in my head was a strangled growl. Mine.

Kenna tasted of excitement and sweet liquor. My dick was half hard by the time she pulled away, breathless, and I stepped back, letting her slide all the way down my chest to the ground.

“I told you to stay out of it.”

“You should realize by now, I know what the fuck I’m doing.” Her grin was a little crooked, her eyes big and half drunk.

Fuck.

“Mmhmm.”

“You told me to stay hidden the other day too, but I was nosy, so I followed you and then called Cam.”

Of course she did.

She glanced over her shoulder, where the one guy was glaring at her angrily. “I forgot to listen this time, too.” Then back to me, challenge lighting up her eyes. “Oops.”

I smacked her on the ass as she and Whitney sauntered back to the bar, where the little bartender called out to Merc. “Don’t fuck up my bar.”

He turned to her, took a stack of bills from the inside of his cut and put them in her hand. “If it costs more than that, hit me up.”

By then, the tension had grown so angry and thick that everyone in the place was watching us. The roar of Harleys pulling into the parking lot cut through the rock music blaring from the speakers. Our backup had arrived, not that we needed it.

“They say that imitation is the best form of flattery. That what you’re doing there, bub, flattering me?” Cam plucked at the patch on the front of the stolen cut.

“They don’t even look like they could play the part.” Jester leaned down, grinning, and squeezed the skinnier guy’s bicep. When the guy jerked his arm away, Jester turned back to me as if to ask if I wanted first swing.

The asshole pervert had been looking up my girl’s skirt.

Mine . Fuck yes, I did. I open-hand slapped him like the bitch he was and before he could stand, jerked him up by the shoulders of the stolen cut and slammed him into the table.

Same move I’d done when I played hockey, jerking a guy out of his jersey and tossing him to the ice.

Only here, the table broke and crashed as I ripped the cut off and kicked the dude in the side. A set of Chevy keys fell out onto the floor. Jester grabbed them and tossed them to Cam, who caught them and elbowed the other dude in the face.

After that, it was an all-out brawl. Construction workers jumping in.

I threw more punches than I had in a long time, exhilaration soaring through me.

I didn’t professionally fight like Jester did, because I liked the violence too much.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t control it, it was that I didn’t want to.

Which is why they’d kicked me out of the beer leagues before my career ever got off the ground. Disfiguring a guy for life is a quick way to piss off league officials.

In only a few minutes, we were tossing the two guys out of the club and into the parking lot. Jester had both cuts in one hand, tossed over his shoulder like a businessman modeling a suit jacket.

I helped Merc and Dekes wrangle the Yamaha into the back of the truck.

Cam pulled on a pair of black gloves and blew his hair out of his face as he opened the truck, jerked it into neutral, and let it roll backward across the parking lot.

He and Merc pushed it across the road and into a vacant desert lot.

I shoved the guy on the ground with my foot. “Get up, asshole.”

He rolled to his hands and knees, spitting blood on the cracked pavement. “Fuck you.”

“Nope.” I jerked him up by the back of his shirt, shoved him forward, and kept him moving all the way to the lot. AP did the same with the chubby guy. Both of their faces were swollen, but they were alive.

Cam turned back to them. “Usually, you’d be two dead mother fuckers right about now.”

He stopped and lit a cigarette as Merc dumped what smelled like kerosene all in the back of the truck and inside it.

“Thing is, you ain’t the ones I really want.

You’re just the dipshits dumb enough to wear the cuts.

” He took a big drag before tossing the cigarette into the bed of the truck.

It erupted into fire that burned hot and fast. He watched it for a minute as one guy fell mewling to the ground and the other one swayed, half-conscious on his feet.

“Tell whoever’s idea it was to come for us…” He grinned, wicked and scary. “To come find me next time.”

***

Kenna and Whitney both hovered outside the front door of Miller's, watching the truck burn. In the distance, fire truck sirens were wailing.

“This,” I gestured between the two of them. “Is a bad idea.”

Whitney smiled, big and bright with a look that gave zero shits. “Oh, but I think it is.”

“I think it looks like the god-damn night of my dreams.” Jester crooned, sidling up to us and winking at the girls.

When Whitney turned to Kenna, she only ducked her head and blushed. Jealousy clawed its way up the back of my throat, hot and angry. I didn’t want Jester or Whitney anywhere near Kenna. Ridiculous, considering I had no right. Hadn’t I just shared her?

But now it was different. She was different.

Why?

I didn’t know, but I still gestured her to the back of my bike. “Come back to the clubhouse.”

She didn’t need to, she’d done what she’d come here to do. This shit was mostly over until we found out who’d orchestrated Chop’s ass kicking. I glanced across the street, where he was relentlessly punching one guy.

“Should you do something about that?” Whitney flinched.

Kenna, however, ignored it. This wasn’t her first time seeing the violent side of the club. Probably wouldn’t be her last.

Not if you make her your ole lady.

I hadn’t even been inside her yet and shit like that was popping into my head. I shut it down, quick.

“Want me to?”

Fuck me. I pulled the shirt she’d returned to me from my saddle bag and held it out.

She slipped her arms in and rolled the sleeves up to her wrists as I buttoned it.

The tips of my fingers brushed against bare skin at the valley of her throat and my cock half sprang to life when gooseflesh rippled across her skin from the touch.

Jesus.

“Hop on.” The words rolled out of my lips before I had time to stop myself.

Because I wanted her on the back of my bike in those boots, in that cute little dress.

I watched her climb on from my mirror, tucking the tiny dress between her thighs.

It made me think of another time she’d had her fingers between her thighs… when I’d had mine there.

Remembering where I was and who was there, I turned back to Whitney. She was glancing at a car pulling in. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m heading out of here. See you this weekend?” She was babysitting Eli for me.

“Yup. Be safe.” I glanced at Jester. “Make sure she gets out of here okay.”

He nodded but was giving me a we’ll talk later look. He knew me too well and probably had a good idea what I was feeling for Kenna.

Which meant I was about to have to deal with it, with him. And with Kenna. She deserved at least my honesty on all of it. Even if I had no idea what the fuck that was going to be.

I tore out of the parking lot, caught somewhere between irritation and adrenaline laced exhilaration. Then she scooted closer, without a helmet, pressed her face against my back and clung to me. It felt too good, too right.

I was feeling things I didn’t deserve to feel, things I couldn’t afford, about a woman who deserved so much better than me and my bullshit.

Even the ride couldn’t help me sort any of that shit out.