T.A. (Biker Bitches 6)

When Al shoved the destroyed bread toward him, it finally clicked with him what the man wanted.

“You’re wanting money?”

“Duh. She owes me a hundred bucks for watching her apartment when she’s gone. I’m tired of coming over here asking for my money. Tell her when she wakes up that I want next week’s money paid in advance, and to bring it to me. I’m tired of these assholes she’s with giving me all this fucking bread.”

Dalton went to his coat that was hanging on the wall. Taking out his money clip, he peeled out four bills. When he showed them, Al reached out to take the money, but Dalton pulled it back.

“Why does T.A. pay you to watch her apartment?”

“She’s afraid her exes will break inside when she’s gone.”

Dalton frowned. “Does she pay you to watch it when she has someone living with her?”

“Yes. So?”

“If she’s living with someone, why would she would pay you to watch her apartment if someone is already here?”

“I don’t know. Ask her.” Al nodded his head sideways.

Looking toward the hallway, he saw T.A. come into view as Al outed her for listening.

Dalton looked at T.A. as he gave Al the money. Satisfied, Al left the two of them staring at each other.

“What was that about?”

“I pay him to watch my apartment.”

“Why?”

“My ex-boyfriend was selling drugs out of my apartment when I was working. I’ve been afraid that some of his customers will come here looking for their fix and break in when they can’t find him.”

“He made it sound as if it’s been going on much longer than your last boyfriend.”

“What can I say? I have bad taste in boyfriends.” T.A. shrugged noncommittedly, going behind to the counter to the fridge. Taking out the almost empty juice container, she raised a brow at him.

He flushed. “I was thirsty.”

“I am too.” She poured what was left of the juice in a small cup. “Don’t look so irritated. I’ll give you the money back before you leave.”

“I’m not irritated about the money. I’m worried about you. Move. I’ll help you find another apartment before I leave.”

“No, this apartment is fine.” Carrying the juice to the couch, she sat down and patted the cushion next to her.

Warily, he stayed rooted to the spot.

“Why not?”

“Several reasons. I like this one. I’ve lived here since I graduated high school. I promised to take Crazy Bitch’s cat. Finding apartments that take animals is hard. It fits in my budget. Like I said, several reasons.”

Dalton couldn’t put his finger on it, but warning bells were going off inside him. T.A. wasn’t telling him the complete truth; somewhere in there was something she wasn’t confiding.

What was even more confusing was how practiced the explanation seemed to be.

“Are you hungry? I could fix you breakfast, or we could order pizza. The delivery driver will be headed this way anyway.”

“T.A., you know if you’re in trouble, I could help. I have lawyers on retainer—”

“Dalton, there’s no trouble. I promise if I am, I will tell you, okay?”

Reluctantly, he accepted her answer. For now.

“So, which will it be? Breakfast or pizza?”

“Which one do you want?”

A delicate look filled her face. “Pizza. I hate to admit you wore me out yesterday. Can we take it easier today?”

“T.A., you just read my mind.”

* * *

“Where’s your favorite place to fuck?”

Dalton circled the word he was looking for on the word search puzzle.

“A bed,” he answered without seeing how fast T.A was working the same puzzle in her book. “Where’s yours?”

“The bed. How many times a day do you want sex?”

He couldn’t help himself; he took his eyes off the puzzle, afraid his answer would be a deal breaker for her. “Twice a day.”

“Thank God.” Hastily, she looked toward him. “I mean, me too.”

“That wasn’t the next question I was going to ask.”

“Consider it a freebie,” she said generously, her pencil moving again.

“Why do you think your parents hate you?”

Her pencil dropped from her hand. “Because they do.”

“That’s not much of an answer.” Dalton laid the puzzle book down on his lap as his hand went to the feet tucked neatly under his hip.

T.A. closed the one she was working on, laying it on the coffee table next to the almost empty pizza box.

“They blame me for Evangeline’s death.”

“That was your sister’s name?”

“Yes.”

“Were you close to her?”

“There was a big age difference between us, but yes, we were close.”

“I’m sorry.”

She leaned forward, circling her arms around her knees. “Thank you.”

“Not only did you lose your sister, but you lost your parents because they blamed you. How old where you?”

“I was thirteen. That was when I moved to Jamestown. Fat Louise was the first friend I made. Her mother lived in the apartment building next to my grandmother’s house. When school started, she introduced me to Killyama and Crazy Bitch.”