A hand at my arm stopped me. I glared at it. “Let me go,” I hissed.
His grip was firm but not painful and if I’m honest, the same electric current flowed through me than when he had brushed my stomach. “Wait a second, Sparky. You don’t get to spew all that shit, then storm off. You were protecting your girl, I’m protecting my club. You don’t know us, we don’t know you. You arming yourself with information—there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m just trying to do the same, though I’m asking it to your face instead of going behind your back and digging up dirt.”
I moved my glare from my arm to his eyes. They were hard, determined, but still held a note of desire. I ignored that. “Oh, so the big bad bikers are scared of two women? You don’t want that to get out. It might damage your street cred,” I shot sarcastically.
“Sons aren’t scared of nothing, Sparky. What I do know is what the right woman can do. She can get under your skin, either in a good way or a bad way. Either one, it affects the club. Trying to figure out which category Gwen falls into.” His calm and even tone juxtaposed my biting one.
“Gwen would never do anything to hurt anyone. She doesn’t know anything about me learning about the club. I’d like it to stay that way,” I requested sharply.
Brock watched me a second. “Your secret’s safe with me. That don’t mean I won’t be watching you—not that that’s a chore.” His eyes travelled down to my legs. “But I find out you’re lying, that you are doing anything that jeopardizes the club, it won’t be good, Sparky,” he warned.
“Watch away, Otto. I don’t have anything to hide. Unlike you. I won’t be digging into you or the club anymore, but I suggest if you do have something to hide make sure it’s buried nice and deep. And that it doesn’t touch my friend.” I gave him a warning of my own. It took a lot more than veiled threats delivered from a sex god to scare me.
He nodded stiffly. “I guess that offer for a drink is rescinded?” His tone had turned playful but his eyes were dark with desire. I was dangerously aware of his hand still grasping mine.
“Yeah, the offer was rescinded the moment you referred to my best friend as a ‘gash’,” I hissed. “If you do so again, make no mistake—I’ll rip your balls off.”
On that note I yanked myself out of his grasp and stormed into my house, slamming the front door behind me. I sank against it, breathing hard. Not from fear but arousal. I had really gone and done it. Wished for a hot asshole to come into my life and make me forget about a certain someone.
Be careful what you wish for, Amy.
After that encounter I had not been able to get Brock off my mind. Every time I thought about him I got pissed off. What kind of arrogant asshole alludes to the fact that he thinks Gwen and I are some kind of spies here to infiltrate a biker gang by sleeping with the members? Although that would make for a kick ass TV show. Two undercover agents attempting to bring down an outlaw motorcycle gang using only their wits and their feminine wiles, with the added bonus that the men they seduce are sexual demons. My mind wandered to plotlines for the TV show, or more specifically the sex scenes between the Brock and Amy characters.
“Amy!”
I jumped, looking guiltily at Gwen who had just called me. “I wasn’t thinking about an erotic TV show,” I declared quickly.
She frowned at me. “Okaaay.” She looked at me like I was insane. “I was going to ask you if you wanted more wine, but obviously you’ve already finished your own bottle.” She shook her glass at me then wandered out to the porch with a book in her hand.
I wanted to talk to her about the whole Brock thing; she was my best friend and I told her everything. She had been seriously grilling me. She knew something went on with Brock and I hated keeping things from her but I had to. If I mentioned why I was so pissed off at Brock I would have to mention that I had someone look into the club. She wouldn’t be mad I did it; I knew that much. She’d probably be unhappy I kept it from her. That wasn’t the main reason for my reluctance, though.
If I told her I looked into the club because I was worried about her, she would think it meant I didn’t think she was strong enough to make her own decisions about Cade. She would take it as me handling her like a victim, treating her like she needed someone second guessing her choices. It would break her heart, not to mention it was wrong.
Gwen was strong. She was the strongest person I had ever met. She was beaten within an inch of her life, almost gang raped by her boyfriend and his buddies, and she somehow still managed to come out the other side. Sure, her smile had a shadow every now and then and it has taken a lot for her to be around groups of men, but she was still her. She was kind of my hero.
Plus, if I told her about Brock she’d deduce he was an asshole and then question my reason for wanting to be with an asshole in the first place. Then I’d have to tell her about falling in love with her brother, not telling her about it, then getting my heart broken by him. That she would get mad about.
Keeping secrets from Gwen was like keeping secrets from the other half of myself. But it was over with Ian. No need to bring it up. That got me thinking. All of my weird thoughts about Brock had taken up my headspace; I hadn’t once thought about Ian. Four days. That was a record.