Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2)

What would he do if he found her? Hurt her? Kill her? Force her back to a life she’d never realized was stifling her? Would he expect her to marry him and stand by his side with a phony smile while he drugged and raped unsuspecting women as a weeknight hobby?

Never.

“Yo, Curly? Where you at?”

Oliva screamed. She slammed her hand to her chest, ready to catch her heart as it leaped from her chest.

Ray’s head popped up as the French doors to the lanai opened wide. “Curly? You and Brooke better not be fucking naked out he… oh.”

Scott.

Ray let out a delighted yip and practically flew over to the man.

“Some protector you are,” she muttered as she breathed out.

“Where’s Curly?” he asked without so much as a simple greeting.

Swallowing, she closed the laptop with trembling hands. Her insides shook even harder than her fingers. She hated knowing the angry six-foot-plus biker looming fifteen feet from her would sense her distress. “H-he and Brooke, um, they went to dinner.” She cleared her throat to buy herself a minute to settle. “I-I offered to hang with the dogs.”

Just at that time, a few of Brooke’s rescue pups came through the doggy door to inspect the newcomer. He crouched to give each of the dogs some attention.

Olivia’s gaze immediately zeroed in on his long, nimble fingers as they stroked over a chunky bulldog’s head. This whole acting like she didn’t care about him would be much easier if he weren’t so large. And if he didn’t smell like sunshine and man. Or if he was ugly.

“Well, fuck, I forgot about that.” He narrowed his eyes her way. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. What’s wrong?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing. You startled me. That’s all.” When he didn’t say anything, she huffed. “Curly gave me a huge talk about how secure the house was and how no one could get in under any circumstances. I wasn’t expecting to hear a man’s voice. It freaked me out, Scott.”

He sent her an unconvinced glare from his squatted position. Thankfully, his dark glasses hid the hatred in his eyes. She wasn’t sure she could handle it after reading Lance’s email. She craved warmth and comfort but wouldn’t find it here.

“I have a key. You’re shaking. Curly’s right, this house is as safe as it gets. You don’t need to be scared. Promise nothing will happen to you here.”

Her jaw dropped. Had he just reassured her and been kind about it?

He coughed an uncomfortable sound. “And it’s Spec,” he said, saving all his warmth for the dogs. “We’re not friends. You’re a guest with my club. You call me Spec.”

So much for the kindness. “Come on, Sc—” This time, she felt the revulsion in his glare. “Spec. Isn’t this getting a little old?”

He grunted. “Whatever. I’ll catch my prez later. Bye, boy,” he said, patting Ray’s head a final time before turning and walking toward the house again.

Her gaze went to his ass as his long legs ate up the short distance. She couldn’t help it. As much as she wanted to return the man’s hatred, he fascinated her on many levels. Physically, he woke something inside her she’d thought she’d lacked. Lance had been handsome, and she’d been attracted to him, but never like this. Never this wild desire. She’d probably tackle Scott right there and give the poor pups a show they weren’t old enough to see if he expressed interest. And the man hated her, but maybe it was because he hated her. Some confused mixture of hatred and desire were screwing with her libido.

Then there was his relationship with Deke. They’d been as close as brothers, according to her half-brother. Closer than she’d ever been to him, that was for sure. And she wanted to learn more about their friendship and her brother.

And there was the man himself. So angry. So cold. So capable. There were so many facets to him—the biker, the soldier, the friend, the foe. She’d only been privy to one side, but the others were hiding somewhere beneath his resentment.

“Wait!” she called out just as he stepped into the house.

He stopped and glanced back at her over his shoulder.

“Did he hate me that much?” God, she hadn’t meant for her voice to sound so small. So pitiful and needy. “I tried to make up for the years we didn’t have a relationship.”

All she got in response was one eyebrow arching over his sunglasses.

“Deke,” she whispered. It still hurt to say her brother’s name. “Did Deke hate me so much that he made you hate me?” She’d loved her brother. Yes, for too many years, she’d listened to her father’s lies about him, but over the past seven years, she’d tried so hard to make up for that.

A muscle in his cheek fluttered. He stared at the pool for a long moment then faced her. “No,” he said. He closed the doors then looked at her with his hands on his hips. He was so handsome it made her insides twist. “He was much nicer than I am. He didn’t hate you. All he wanted was a close relationship with you. Like I said, he was a better man than me, so I’ll hate you for him.”