Page 2 of Tarnished Hands (Chained Hearts Duet #7)

Chapter Two

EZRA

T he long-legged, dark-eyed beauty, with inky black hair, is a spicy little minx. Of course, underneath all that attitude, I figured she would be. If she were mine, I wouldn’t change a thing about her.

I’ve known who she is for a while now. It’s hard to miss her because she’s always with Keir whenever we meet.

The woman loiters and is dangerous.

Apparently, she put a bullet in a man’s leg for grabbing her wrist once. Rumour has it she didn’t even blink.

The night she punched me, though? I wasn’t concerned about her shooting me. Not when all I could think about was hearing her voice. Because of all the times she stood by Keir’s side, she never spoke. And damn did that drive me bat shit crazy.

She decked me a good one instead. So, I waited until we would see each other out of business mode to get her to talk to me again. Thought I’d go out of my mind waiting to pounce on what had started to possess my every thought.

Finally, when Joey invited me to one of his parties, and when she waltzed in wearing a blood-red short as fuck dress, a pair of black boots, and her hair down instead of up, I knew I had to have her.

And have her, I did.

Over and over, she screamed my name. Clawed her nails down my back, my chest, and gave just as good as she got.

Now, if I could just get her to come back so I can worship, taste, and fuck her again.

“What’s up with the angry girl?” Lydia, my office manager, asks as she enters the shop and leans against the counter.

“Angry girl?” I ask, playing dumb when I know perfectly well who she’s talking about. I smile as images of a pissed off Piper run through my mind.

“Yep, she always looks furious when she comes in with those guys.” Lydia has no idea ‘those guys’ are mafia, and for her sake, she never will.

Even so, she knows something shady is going on.

Knows how to keep her mouth, too. End of story.

“Do you like her?” Her words pull me from my thoughts.

I look up to see her brown eyes locked on me, and full of more questions. “Do you?” she reiterates.

“Why?” Lydia and I kissed once. It was a mistake, and I told her so. That kiss—quick, unexpected, more awkward than hot—was supposed to be buried; apparently, it’s not for her.

“She isn’t really your type, now, is she?” Her hands go to her hips over the tiny shorts she has on. I don’t have a uniform for her, and I try to keep my opinion to myself about what women wear—their body, their choice—but she used to wear jeans and tees. Now? Her shorts barely qualify as fabric.

“I have a type?” I ask with a raised brow. “And you would know this how?”

I tend to keep to myself. I prefer it that way.

Basically, all I do is work and speak to my brother often.

Sure, I’ll go out for drinks on the odd occasion.

And on some of those nights, I will end up in the bathroom with my hand up a woman’s dress as she tells me how badly she wants to fuck me.

Not that I complain, because sometimes all you need is a release.

And I do love women—all types of women, especially crazy ones.

“You’re attracted to me, and she is not me. That’s how I know.” Lydia smiles, flicks her hair over her shoulder, and sashays back to the reception area.

Shit .

Does she really think that?

Fuck! Obviously, I was not clear enough last time.

Going after her, I find her with her feet up on the desk. Her smug smile says she knew I’d come after her.

“Lydia—” I start, but she cuts me off.

“You can have me here on this desk. Think about it.” She lowers her feet and leans far enough over the desk to give me the perfect view of her tits.

“Please stand up,” I say while shaking my head.

She does, but it’s clear she is misinterpreting what I’m saying again. Lydia is good at what she does, and until I hire someone else, it’ll be a blow to my downtime without her, but with the direction this is going, she leaves me no choice but to let her go. “You’re fired.” I turn and walk out.

The gasp is loud and clear before she runs after me. “No, please don’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Her hand lands on my shoulder, and I tense as my stomach flips.

I shake her off like she’s burned me. I hate being touched. Doing the touching is not an issue, but I can’t stand having other people’s hands on me.

But I let Piper touch me.

“I don’t want you, Lydia,” I say simply and clearly so she can’t be confused this time. “I hired you to work and had one moment of misjudgment. If you can’t put that behind us, this won’t work.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve had a bad week.” She brushes her hair behind her ear. “It won’t happen again.”

“If it does, I won’t give you another chance.”

“Thank you. It won’t.” She promises.

She’d best stick to it.

Neither says anything more as she turns and goes back to the office, and I head back to the Mustang I’ve been working on.

Not sure how long I get lost in my work, but it has to be hours by the time I’m finished.

Truth be told, that’s how it always is.

I fucking love it. Love looking down to see grease coating my hands, and the way my shirt sticks to my back from sweat.

Cranking the engine, the Mustang purrs to life. It’s a sweet sound, similar but not as satisfying as Piper’s.

I heard Lydia leave, and she didn’t say goodbye. If she did, I didn’t hear her. It could be because I have my music turned up loud. I usually do unless I have someone here working with me. Guess I forgot she was here.

Crawling back under the car to tweak a few things, I don’t hear Piper come in, but I feel her before I see her black, sky-high boots, and what I assume are the same black jeans from earlier that hugged her lush, ripe peach shaped ass.

Rolling out from under the Mustang, I look up at her.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, and those almost pitch black eyes stare down at me with seriousness.

“Just sex,” she says, and I let a wicked smirk slide across my mouth. Her brows lift. Daring me. Testing me. Just waiting for a reason to bolt. “Nothing more.”

I don’t agree to her terms as I stand and head to the wash area.

I make quick work of tearing off my shirt and kicking free of my jeans.

She remains where she is as I walk to the shower room in the back of the building.

After quickly washing and throwing on some clean clothes, I return to find her leaning against the car, her phone in hand, lost in her own world.

“Dinner,” I say, reaching for my car keys. She goes to argue, but I stop her with a finger to her lips. “Then I fuck you all night long. But first, I need fucking food.” Pulling away, I take her hand and drag her out, shutting the door behind me.

Opening the car door, Piper slides in, giving me her forever stoic expression.

I plan to make it crack tonight… in my bed.