Blood & Bones: Rook (Blood Fury MC 7)

“Dutch will have a fuckin’ fit if I just leave.”

“Then go in and tell him you need to go on a test drive with me to listen to the noise I hear in the engine.”

Christ. The woman was far from dumb.

His left eye began to twitch. “Don’t like you givin’ me orders.” He rubbed at it.

“Don’t care.”

“You should.”

“Why?”

“You don’t wanna be my enemy, Jet.”

“I think that ship has sailed. But actually? You don’t want to be mine.”

“You talk tough for someone with tits.”

She smiled at the insult. “And you talk tough for someone with tiny nuts. Heard they’re the size of almonds.”

“Then you won’t choke on them when they’re both in your mouth.”

She dropped her head and her chest rose and fell in slow motion. When she twisted her head and glanced back up at him, she was still grinning.

That pulled a reluctant smirk from him. He shouldn’t like sparring with her this much, but she was a good opponent and held her own. As good as any of his club brothers. “Goddamn it, wait here,” he muttered and went in to tell Dutch he was heading out on a test drive with Jet.

A few minutes later, with the rat bastard snapping at his heels, he climbed into the passenger seat and said, “Run that little asshole over on your way outta the lot.”

“I’m not going to do that,” she murmured, putting the black-and-white into Reverse and backing it around.

“Bet you don’t take orders from any man.”

After putting the vehicle into Drive, she turned her head to stare at him. She opened her sweet mouth for a fraction of a second, then snapped it shut. With a shake of her head, like he wasn’t worth her time, she hit the accelerator and shot the Ford like a rocket out of the lot and onto Main Street. He was surprised to see her heading out of town instead of toward the pig pen.

“Where we goin’?”

“You worried?” she asked.

“Does it look like I’m worried? Told you this before, that badge don’t make you invincible.”

“Do you hate all cops or just me?”

“Really need to ask that?”

“I’ve seen you be civil with some of my fellow officers,” she admitted.

“Yep.”

“So, it’s only me, then.”

“Nope.”

She sighed and kept driving, taking a back road out of town.

“Why am I in this cage, Jet?”

She shot him a quick glance before turning her attention back to the road. “I didn’t put you in the cage. You’re sitting in the passenger seat.”

“Know what I mean.”

“Why do you call cars cages?”

“’Cause that’s what they are,” he answered.

“Can’t be as bad as the cages you spent a lot of time in.”

“Gonna keep mentionin’ my record?”

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “No.”

He stared at her fingers. Slender with short nails. Plain. No color on them like most women. Not a ring in sight, either.

He lifted his gaze from her hands to the side of her head. With her long, straight hair pulled up and back, he could see her ears. Double-pierced with simple gold balls. Nothing someone could easily grab and rip from her earlobes, like the big-ass hoops some of the sweet butts wore.

He let his gaze slide over her profile. The shape of her nose was kind of cute. The curves of her parted lips tempting.

“What are you doing?” came out of her on a ragged whisper.

“Eyein’ up my enemy.” His nostrils flared and he dragged his attention away from her.

“We don’t have to be enemies, Rook.”

“Yeah, we do.”

“We could help each other out.”

He didn’t like that suggestion one bit. “That why I’m in this fuckin’ pig mobile?” When she didn’t answer, he said sharply, “What game are you playin’, Jet?”

She still didn’t answer, instead she turned the wheel she was gripping so hard that her knuckles had turned white. He glanced out of the windshield to see where she’d turned off.

Nowhere. That was where.

They were in the middle of fucking nowhere.

“Not likin’ this, Jet. Not at all. Ain’t gonna be accused of doin’ somethin’ to a pig when I didn’t do shit. Ain’t gonna be set up like that.”

She put the shifter into Park and glanced at him. “Get out.”

He glanced around. If she made him walk back to town from here, it was a hell of a walk. He was only wearing his coveralls over a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved thermal. His phone was back at the garage on his Snap-On tool box where he kept it while he worked. He should’ve fucking grabbed it.

Dumbass.

“You got somethin’ to say, say it. Don’t need to get out.”

“Get out,” she ordered again.

His heart now pounded in his throat. He was a little more worried than he should be. Jet might be a woman with a badge, but he’d taken down plenty of bigger motherfuckers than her. Ones who wouldn’t blink twice before killing someone. Jet would always think about it before doing it. That alone made her vulnerable.