Page 24 of Property of Tacoma

I suck in a deep breath. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.

She’s not mine. She’s never going to be mine. I need to get my head on straight before I do something stupid.

“Bye.” Foxy waves.

Benny or Bobby, I can’t be sure which, waves out the passenger window as they pull away.

As Foxy steps past me to head back inside the club, I hear her stomach growl loudly. Gator laughs, having heard it too.

“Hungry?” he asks

“Starving,” she admits, patting her flat stomach. “I haven’t eaten since that breakfast burrito I grabbed from Mickey D’s at six o’clock this morning.”

I glance at the Casio G-shock watch Bane got me for Christmas last year, and frown. It’s nearly six in the evening. That’s almost twelve hours without food.

“Let’s get you fed,” I say, placing my hand lightly on the small of her back as I guide her down the hall.

The gesture is automatic, and immediately makes me think of Chief’s warning.

Off limits. That’s what he’d said, but there’s something about this woman that makes me want to break all the rules.

“Dave’s Deli sound good?” I ask, looking at Foxy as I grab my cut from the back of the chair and shrug it on. “They’ve got the best sandwiches in town.”

She shrugs as if she’s down for whatever, but I don’t miss the way her green eyes light up at the mention of food. “Sounds good to me.”

“You guys wanna come?” I ask Bash and Gator, though I’m secretly hoping they’ll decline.

Bash shakes his head. “Can’t. Gotta help Journey with some shit.”

My brows snap together. “What shit?”

“Moving some safes in the back room at the King’s Pawn.”

I nod, then shift my gaze to Gator.

He shakes his head. “I’m good. Got some stuff of my own to handle.”

“By ‘stuff,’ do you mean stalk Lavender?” Bash laughs and jumps back when Gator swipes out a tattooed paw at him.

“Fuck off.”

Foxy tips her head, her big green eyes dancing. “Are they always like this?”

“Every. Fucking. Day.” I laugh.

Bash and Gator have been friends since middle school. Thick as thieves and always poking at each other.

I guide Foxy outside, my hand still resting on the small of her back.

As we walk toward my bike, I’m acutely aware of the electric current running between us where my fingers meet the bare skin, and I wonder how many of Chief’s rules I’m going to break before this woman leaves Odin.

CHAPTER SIX

Foxy veers away from my Harley Breakout and heads to her RV.

“Uh, Babe… My bike is over here.” I point in the opposite direction that she’s walking.

Babe?Jesus. Her brother would cut off my balls if he heard me call her that.