Blood & Bones: Rook (Blood Fury MC 7)

Pot. Whiskey. Leather. Wet dog?

The smells wafting around her could belong to any of the men she’d arrested in the past. But they didn’t belong to some random disgruntled arrestee out for vengeance.

No, they certainly did not.

She tried to slow her breathing so she could semi-calmly say, “With your expert skills of being a car thief, I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re a proficient burglar, too. But now, since the residence is occupied, your burglary turned to a robbery charge, a much more serious offense. And if you’re packing a weapon, that increases the grade. I can stack on trespassing, B and E, and aggravated assault, too. Any and all of it breaks the conditions of your parole, anyway. Go directly to jail, do not pass go.”

“Fuck you, Jet.”

His deep growl made her pin her lips together so she wouldn’t smile. But it also made a ribbon of heat swirl through her.

Cop-hating felon asshole biker needed to play on repeat in her head.

“I see your method of greeting fellow humans hasn’t improved yet. For future reference, normally visitors give the person they’re visiting a heads up that they’re stopping by. After a polite knock on the door, they’re usually invited inside. Your parents really sucked at teaching you manners.”

“That wasn’t the only thing they sucked at,” he grumbled.

“Ah, now I see… You have Mommy issues.”

When his fingertips dug deeper into the sides of her neck, she increased the pressure of the hand she had clamped around his wrist. She apparently touched a nerve.

She knew techniques where she could easily break free from his grip but if she tried them, they might end up in a physical struggle.

Not might, would.

While Rook was bigger than her, she’d taken down larger and heavier men than him. Most of them desperate to get free, which made them more dangerous than the man who currently pinned her to the mirror.

This morning, however, Jet was too weary for a physical challenge. It had been a long miserable night. She had dealt with one too many crashes due to the fallen snow, topped with endless domestic incidents due to the holiday and heavy drinking.

Luckily, Max had scheduled two other patrols in anticipation of the weather and the family spats, which happened whenever related people got together and they had a light-bulb moment discovering that they really didn’t like each other. Those realizations usually were revealed once they were thoroughly pickled.

“Is there a reason why you’re here? Other than the erection you’re pushing into my stomach?”

“Yeah, to tell you you need to leave me the fuck alone.”

Uh… what? “Are you drunk or just confused? You came here. I didn’t seek you out.” In fact, she hadn’t seen him since the last time he was in her apartment.

She hadn’t seen him parked at the bottom of the mountain, either. She assumed that meant he’d been keeping clear of the Shirleys after his last run-in with them. Smart on his part.

“Came here to get you outta my system.”

She pursed her lips and stared at him. He seemed pretty pissed so maybe she should take that as a threat.

“And how were you planning on doing that? By strangling me?” She flexed the fingers encircling his wrist. Her other hand was pressed flat against his belly. It rose and fell with each ragged breath he took.

And it was certainly uneven. But then, so was hers.

“That’s my second choice.”

Dare she ask? “What’s your first?”

“Fuckin’ you.”

She wasn’t surprised by his answer, of course, because of the steel pipe pressing against his zipper. The evidence of his arousal couldn’t be more obvious.

“Word of advice… Addicts don’t get sober by feeding their habit.”

The long, calloused fingers encircling her neck twitched, giving away more than he’d probably like. “Ain’t addicted to you.”

“Good. Because that could be a problem.”

“Ain’t a problem.”

“A typical response from an addict.” She was pushing him. She didn’t know why. To get him to react? To get him to give up whatever his plans were? To bring him to his senses?

To bring herself to her senses?

The man broke into her apartment to get her “out of his system.” That sounded as though he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Since the last time she stood naked in the exact same spot, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him, either.

About what they did. And about how she wanted to do it again.

She just wished like hell it wasn’t Rook.

She wished it wasn’t a cop-hating felon asshole biker. But wishing it wasn’t going to change it.

The man before her was who he was and nothing would change that. So, she either needed to make him leave or they needed to proceed in doing what he came there to do. That was one reason she hadn’t taken his ass down, pulled her .38 and plugged a hole between his eyes.

She had every right to do just that. A parolee with a violent past broke into her place, got physical with her and also threatened her.