“Did you just memorize my address?”
“Yes.” I won’t lie to her.
“Uh, well that’s creepy. How do I know you’re one of the good guys?” But before I can respond, she’s already holding her hand up. “Forget it, I know you’re a good guy, you sort of saved me back there. But why do you need to know where I live?”
I have two reasons, but she doesn’t need to know them both. “Johns and Green are not going to just let this go away. They’re going to come back, and until then, I’m going to have someone watching your house to make sure you’re okay.”
“That’s not necessary.”
I shake my head. She doesn’t realize it, but as soon as I say the word she’s going to have the whole MC at her back. They’ll protect her like she’s one of our own.
“Where’s your car?”
She points around back, and I grab her hand and walk her around the side of the building. I pull my phone out. “Patriot. I need you at the Pussy Parlor.”
“Be right there,” he says, and I shut off the phone.
When we get to Addison’s car, I still have a hold of her hand, and I don’t want to let it go. “So, Addison York, what do you do?”
“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” she answers, and automatically I know it fits.
I can picture her on her knees surrounded by kids and books and shit. She’s pure and sweet and everything I’m not. But I can’t make myself care. Now that I’ve seen her, I know she’s going to be mine.
“Uh, what do you do?” she asks, and it’s obvious she’s worried how I might answer. I could fuck with her, but I won’t.
“I’m ex-military. But now I run Valor Customs. I paint bikes.”
She nods just as Patriot pulls into the lot and stops beside us. He gets off his bike and walks over to us. Patriot is nineteen years old. He always wanted to join the military, but the hearing aid he has to wear stopped him from being able to join. The man needs to fit in somewhere, and now he’s figured that is with the Valor MC. He’s proven over and over that he has the brothers’ backs, and I’m sure it won’t be long before he’s a member of the club. He has to be good, because I wouldn’t trust just anyone with Addison.
I introduce Addison and Patriot, making sure he knows she’s off limits. I then give him the address and tell him to tag along and keep an eye on her. Patriot takes it all in, and it’s obvious he’s proud to do this job. He gets on his bike and waits for Addison.
I’ve finally let go of her hand, not because I wanted to but because she needed to get in the car. I crouch down beside her before she could shut the door. “I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself in there, but from now on, you have me to do it for you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“But you don’t have to anymore.”
Her mouth is wide open. “But—but I don’t even know you. Heck, I don’t even know your name,” she says.
I lean in and kiss her forehead only because I know if I touch her lips like I’m dying to do, she’ll never get to the safety of her home. “They call me Ice. And you may not know me yet, but you will. Be safe, Addison. I’ll text you later.”
I stand up and shut her door, and she’s staring up at me before she finally shakes her head, starts her car, and pulls out of the lot. Patriot follows behind her, and I watch, knowing that my life has been changed forever.
3
Addison
Are you home?
MY phone dings, and that’s the message on it. The name on the ID says Ice.
I text him back, still surprised by the change of events tonight. Yes, I’m home. But I’m sure Patriot has already told you that.
Yeah, I knew. But I wanted to hear it from you, he replies.
My heart starts to race in my chest. Ice is like no man I’ve ever met. He’s tall, dark and handsome with tattoos, and even with the scowl he carries on his face, he still makes my stomach flip-flop.
Well, I’m home. Thanks again for your help. I type it in and hit send as I stare at my phone, wondering if he’ll text back.
Don’t thank me. I have an ulterior motive.
My excitement instantly dwindles. Of course he does. Don’t most men? At least the men I’ve dealt with only do something if it benefits them. I toss the phone onto the coffee table and lie back on the couch. It dings again, but I don’t pick it up. Who knows what he’s sending me now or what he’s going to ask for?