Make Me (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 4)

His head tilted.

“I did do something,” he said. “I made sure they didn’t touch the chair.”

I gritted my teeth to keep from telling him thank you.

That was a very nice thing for him to do, but what would be even nicer was if he told me who’d been responsible for hurting my brother.

I narrowed my eyes, but before I could get him to talk, he was gone.

When I called out to him, he ignored me, then disappeared into an alley.

When I followed him into the alley, he was gone.

Or at least I thought he was gone.

I was halfway down the alley, passing a dumpster that was taller than me, and was looking left and right like a dumb girl, when a massive hand clamped onto my wrist and pulled me deeper into the shadows.

“Listen,” the man growled, pinning me to the dirty building with his hard, enormous body. “I’m not sure you’re taking this very seriously. This dude that fucked your brother up is a bad dude. One that’ll kill you if he knows that you’re out for revenge. Now, do me a fuckin’ favor and go back to your little welding shop and pretend that everything is okay.”

I took a deep, calming breath to try to wrangle my racing heart under control, but it was no use.

The man that was pinning me to the wall was big, and I was really small in comparison. Also, I was a shameful slut because him holding me to the wall, my hands up over my head—when did they get over my head?—and his hips pinning my body to the wall was turning me on.

“Are you even listening?” the man asked.

Was I?

I wasn’t sure.

All I could feel was the hardness of his body. The way he towered over me. The way that I liked the way I felt.

Also, was that his cock? Because Jesus Christ on a cracker, if it wasn’t, I was going to be sorely disappointed.

“You’re not, are you?” he asked. “Fuck me.”

He stepped away from me with disgust, and I had to fight back the moan that was on the tip of my tongue.

“I’m sorry,” I blinked rapidly, trying to get my head on straight. “Were you saying something?”

His eyes narrowed on me.

“I was saying that you need to go back to work and keep your nose clean,” he said. “Stay at Stratton’s and don’t leave, no matter what.”

My eyes narrowed right back at him, my red-headed temper coming out to play.

“I will do what I want to do,” I shot back. “And you won’t be able to stop me.”

He sighed as if he’d expected that answer. “What you want to do is going to get you killed.”

My eyes went wide at that news. “What are you talking about?”

The man shoved his hands into his pockets, and the movement pulled his jeans down lower, exposing his lower stomach for a few short seconds before he pulled them back up.

“I’m talking about you looking into the guy that fucked your brother up,” he said. “You think that he has a conscience? He doesn’t. He just fucked up a man in a wheelchair that was talking to one of his girls. Do you honestly think that his moral compass is one that’ll stop him from hitting girls?”

I didn’t say anything to that, because I didn’t have anything to say.

He was right.

The guy that beat my brother up probably wouldn’t care that I was a girl.

“Even worse, he knows you dwell down here, so he knows you know the score,” he continued. “And trust me when I say, he’ll fuck you up. And he probably won’t stop at just beating the shit out of you.”

The man let his eyes rove up and down the length of my body, making my nipples harden and my body shiver.

Jesus Christ, the man’s gaze was potent.

It was like a straight shot of need straight to the hoo-ha.

“Do yourself a favor and take a break from all this.” He paused. “Even better, get the hell off of Eleventh Street altogether.”

Now that I wasn’t going to do.

Stratton had hired me when I was a lost soul.

He’d taught me everything that I knew and had even offered me a job once I got out of trade school.

I wasn’t leaving Stratton until either he died or I did.

“That’s a big ol’ negative, Ghost Rider.” I grinned. “But you can bet I’ll go back to work now.”

I pushed away from the wall, ignored the slimy thing that I’d just stepped in, and hurried out of the alley.

When I was at the mouth of it, I looked back and asked, “Hey, what’s your name?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t need it.”

“Okay, Kemosabe,” I said. “I’ll just call you what I want then.”

With that, I took off, hurrying down the two blocks that it took to get to the shop.