Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2)

“No, but she gave Brooke that impression. Something’s going on, and it’s big enough that she fled home for a while. Maybe cut her some slack?”

With a snort, Scott shook his head. “I’m not giving her tantrum attention because she’s pissed Daddy cut up her credit cards or whatever. She’ll get bored of being in that tiny apartment without all her luxuries in no time.” She’d shunned Deke for much of her life. Why the hell should she be extended any courtesies?

Deke would’ve bent over backward to make her feel welcome, but Scott wasn’t as tender-hearted.

“You’re a cold man, Spec. Fucking block of ice for a heart. Except when it comes to Chloe,” Curly said of his sister. “Only time I’ve seen you thaw is around her. Think with what happened to her, you’d be more willing to help a woman in need.”

Shit. That arrow hit its mark. Scott rubbed his chest as though the prez really had speared him in the heart.

Curly rapped his knuckles on the bar. “Catch you later.”

“Later, Prez.” Damn right, Scott was a hard motherfucker. He had to be to survive the shit he’d lived through, to do the things he’d done, and to keep from letting the guilt over Deke’s death destroy him. If that made him cold, fuck it. It’s the way it had to be.

“And, Spec?” Curly called from the door to his office.

Scott looked his way.

“Remember she showed up here. To find you, her brother’s best friend. A rich girl like that?” He arched an eyebrow. “She probably had options. But she’s here. To see you. Why do you think that is?”

The words bounced around in his head as Scott finished his beer. The prez straight-up didn’t understand. Olivia and Deke hadn’t been close. She’d grown up a pampered Daddy’s girl. The same Daddy who kicked Deke out on his ass when he enlisted. Did the man even know Deke lived on the streets until basic training? Did Olivia realize it? Did either care? Probably not. They were too busy living the good life in their mansion, bathing in diamonds, and eating on solid gold plates.

Olivia stood for everything he hated. Rich jerks who lived in their ivory towers looking down on the regular folk. She had no idea what it was to struggle, to fight, to fear, and yet she thought herself better than him because of her clothes and shoes and wallet. She didn’t deserve softness from him—someone who didn’t put up with her bullshit for once in her life. That’s one she needed.

And that’s how it’d stay. He had no plans to change his attitude toward her. It kept her away and kept him from having some emotional heart-to-heart where he spilled his guts and details of Deke’s death.

No way in hell would they be having that conversation. No matter how big of an asshole he had to become or how many times he had to overlook something about her that shattered his preconceived notions. Like the way she’d handled everything that happened today.

Maybe he didn’t give her enough credit and perhaps he prejudged her too harshly, but he needed to stick to those judgments.

It was safer for everyone.

But mostly for him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE WEATHER WAS a dream.

Eighty-five degrees and, from what every person at the clubhouse had told her, a rare dry day for Florida. Even the humid days didn’t bother her. Olivia soaked up the sun and heat like one of those little lizards she saw lounging all over Brooke’s lanai.

And this lanai was just about the best thing in life. She could’ve happily spent the rest of her life sitting right there on the cushy chaise while the dogs scampered around in the yard and the gentle breeze blew through the screen.

Warmth filled her from within as well. Having Brooke trust her enough to ask her to watch the dogs while she and Curly went on a dinner date meant the world to her. Throw in the fact that Curly didn’t force some poor club member to babysit her, and she was in tropical heaven.

Curly and Brooke’s house was locked down tighter than most military bases. Last year, Brooke’s ex-husband had broken in and nearly killed her, or so they’d told her. After that, Curly invested in an epic security system. The Hope Diamond probably wasn’t as secure as she was at that moment. The assurance of safety put her mind at ease and allowed her to truly relax for the first time in a week.

Ray, Brooke’s German Shepard, pushed through the doggie door snout first, lapped up some water from his dish, then scampered over to her chair.

“Hey, boy,” she said with a huge smile. “Wanna snuggle? I’ll move my legs.” She shifted her legs to one side of the lounge chair. Ray sniffed her knee, managed an awkward revolution or two, then flopped down with a contented doggy sigh. The heat radiating off his furry body would have her needing a dip in the pool in no time, but she didn’t mind.