Coal (Regulators MC 3)

Holding his hands up in surrender, Hammer says, “All right, all right. No need to get your dick in a twist about it.”

Pointing at the sheets of paper, I ask, “We about done with this? I’ve got shit to do.”

He nods. “Finishing up now, bro. You can take off if you want. I’m eager to get back home to Des, anyway. She’s drunk from their girls’ night tonight, and I’m in the mood for the wild woman that my ol’ lady becomes when alcohol is involved.”

I pat him on the back. “Thanks, man. See you later. And do me a favor; tell Des that if she thinks Paisley is in trouble, to give me a call, yeah?”

Hammer doesn’t bother to look at me, but I can see the side of his mouth move up in a smirk as he says, “Will do.”

I leave the office, make my way through the club, and consider stopping at the bar for a beer. Thing is, I have no desire to be here right now. I’m restless, and the road and my bike are calling my name.

Heading out into the parking lot toward my machine, I blow out a breath. Then, as I crank my motorcycle up and rev the engine, a certain quirky woman pops into my mind again. Why I can’t stop thinking about her, I have no idea. The woman is getting under my skin, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. What I do know is that I don’t like the idea that she’s scared because she thinks someone is watching her.

That’s how I find myself driving toward her place. This isn’t the first time. I have found myself doing it quite a few times this past week. Every time I think back on holding Lisa as she screamed BJ’s name, I find myself wanting to make sure Pixie is okay. I even drive by her job and her gym.

I don’t like the way she makes me feel. The way she’s slowly digging under my skin as if she has the right to burrow into me like that.

What is it about the woman that gets to me? Whatever it is, in the past week, I have found that alcohol won’t make it go away and my dick doesn’t want another woman. Two more things I’m not exactly happy about.

Thing is, as much as I’m not happy about the situation, I’m also curious.

This could end up being a very dangerous combination … for both of us. The last time I allowed myself to get entangled with a woman, it cost both of us our future plans. Is Pixie worth that level of risk?

It doesn’t take me long to make my way to her place where I park next to her little Prius. As I get off my bike, I can’t help snorting at her car. I can just hear her sweet, little voice telling me about how she drives that car because of her “footprint” or some shit like that.

The only footprint I have ever cared about is the one I leave behind after I kick an asshole in the face. I sure as shit have never given a damn about any environmental shit. Since meeting Pixie, though, that’s slowly starting to change.

The other day, I put my water bottle in the recycle bin instead of the trash can. I could almost imagine Pixie there talking about the waste of bottles and plastic.

Jesus, the woman is going to drive me insane.

Yet, that doesn’t stop me from making my way toward her apartment door and knocking on it loud enough to wake the dead. From what I hear about how much she drank, I will be lucky if she hears that.

I have to knock three more times before I hear a slurred, “Hold your horses” from the other side of the door.

I smile at the sound of her undoing her locks, and then watch with rapt attention as she slowly opens the door with a confused look on her face.

Leaning against the doorframe for support, she says, “What in the world are you doing here, Trevor? It’s one o’clock in the morning!”

Pushing past her, I don’t bother to wait for her to invite me inside. I just walk into her living room while saying, “Heard you thought someone was following you. I’m sleeping on your couch to make sure you’re okay.”

Sitting down on her small couch, I cringe at the thought of sleeping on it. But I made my so-called bed, so now I have to lay on it because I sure as hell don’t think Pixie is going to let me lay on hers. If she did, there would be trouble for both of us.

“Sexy man on my couch,” she slurs to herself, closing the front door. “Not even gonna lock the door if he wants to play knight to my damsel in distress.”