T.A. (Biker Bitches 6)

“What—”

T.A. didn’t let him finish talking. Winding her arms around Whip’s muscle-bound shoulders, she pouted up at him.

“Ready, baby? It took you long enough. I’m going to ride you like a mechanical bull. I hope you’re up for the challenge.”

“I’m up for any challenge.” Whip gripped her by the waist until she was lifted off her feet and turned her around.

“Damn, I knew tonight was going to be my lucky night when Dagger and Nails invited me over to party. I hope that dick of yours is up to the challenge. It’s been awhile since I’ve been laid. The men in my town are scaredy cats.”

The president stopped moving to laugh down at her. “They’re scared of you?”

T.A. rolled her eyes, raising her brows in confusion. “Yeah. They’re afraid their dicks will fall off.”

She felt herself being lowered so fast she had to catch the side of the bar to steady herself.

“Why would they be afraid of that?”

“I have no idea.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, does it, hot stuff? By the way, you do have plenty of condoms, don’t you? The last dude I fucked actually sued me because he didn’t use one. Like it was my fault. I told him to use one. He was the one in too big of a hurry to fuck to put a bag on his shit.” Seductively, she tried to move closer to him, but Whip put a hasty hand out to stop her.

“Take the tequila and get out.”

She took a step back at the threatening glare. Looking the biker over, she almost regretted not giving him a whirl. She had fucked worse.

Reaching for the bottle, she moved closer to Dalton, who was still standing by the bar, until her breasts brushed his chest. “Dude, you should really call your kids.” Unable to stop herself, she stared into his eyes as she raised her knee up with a quick jerk. “Next time a lady asks for your help, don’t be such a douchebag.”

Starting to move away from the bent over man, T.A. felt her arm caught in a firm grip by Whip.

“Whoa… why did you do that?”

“He called you a pussy for not fucking me. You should pick better friends.”

“I didn’t hear shit coming from Hollywood.”

“I did. Don’t worry, I took care of it. He’ll think twice before he runs his mouth again. Since I’m not going to see any action here, I’m out.”

Jerking her arm away from Whip’s grip, she felt a spurt of fear when he didn’t release her immediately. His furious gaze was pointed over her shoulder. She was about to turn around again when Whip released her.

She was smart enough to make her escape while she still could. She had delivered Grace’s and Dax’s message to their father. What he did with it now was no skin off her nose. She might have delivered it with a punch to his nuts, but the movie star deserved it. He had made no effort to help a damsel in distress, and she took that shit seriously when men didn’t step up to the plate to protect women. Not that she needed saving, but damn, it would have been nice just one fucking time to have one stand up for her.

When she headed out the door, Nails and Dagger looked at her in surprise.

“Where are you going?” Nails tried to stop her, but she dodged him.

“Going home. Whip said he wants to talk to you two weenies.”

T.A. didn’t stop her booted heels clicking on the pavement as she walked toward her car, practically running. The adrenalin that had her sticking her neck out to help Killyama was fading fast. She just wanted to get in her car and get the fuck out of there.

She didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until she was pulling out of the parking lot. It wasn’t the craziest thing she had been talked into doing for her friends, but it was the most disheartening. What woman alive didn’t have a crush on Dalton Andrews? From the young to the old, he captured their fantasies, even though it was heavily advertised he was married. Not only did women idolize him, but men did too. He was an action star who spent his days driving fast cars and motorcycles in front of a camera and slept with one of the top runway models in the world at night.

He had it all, until he had lost his wife to heart failure. Her anger at Dalton took a nose dive. That Oceane Fournier’s death had affected her husband was easily seen in his appearance. He had aged since Grace had taken the picture of him with Oceane she had given to Killyama.

In the picture, his dark hair with strands of silver was carefully groomed to lie short and quaffed at the top, showing the unbelievable thickness most men his age were losing, giving him the tough image that highlighted his tanned features. A nose that had obviously been broken and a chiseled jaw and chin added to the roughness that if you couldn’t see the love for his wife shining in his eyes, you would be terrified to see at the end of a dark alley.