Stalk Her

But that money was only going to last for so long, so that’s why I was working for minimum wage and tips. The two grand I took wasn’t going to last me forever, but I had to keep moving. Keep running.

Staying in one place too long would end up killing me.

I was about to make my rounds again when my gaze landed on one table off to the side. He sat there by himself, staring at me, his focus so intense that it was as if he reached out and ran his fingers over my skin. That’s how strongly I felt it, how powerful his look was.

I should have looked away, should have broken the eye contact. I didn’t like the way it made me feel, didn’t like the way he looked at me.

It was the look a man gave a woman he wanted to own.

I didn’t know how I knew that’s what his stare meant, but the longer he watched me, the more I knew that was the truth.

“Poppy, do you want to take these over to table four? They’re mean-mugging the hell out of me right now, and I’m not in the mood to deal with a drunkard’s fight.”

I finally tore my gaze away and glanced at Richie. I nodded, took the beers, set them on my tray, and told myself to just ignore the man who refused to stop watching me.

But as I made my way around the bar to deliver the drinks, I was still very aware that he watched me, tracked me around the room. I felt it. It was then that I knew he was the one who’d had my instincts on high alert. He was the reason I felt like I was under a microscope.

And I didn’t know why I was nervous, didn’t know why I felt as though I was being stripped bare, put on display. Was he with Henry? Was he sent out to find me? Did he track me down?

I started to feel fear take hold. I didn’t know what Henry would do to me if he found me.

I went back to the bar, refusing to look at the man at the table, to show him that I noticed his attention was right on me or that it affected me so much. When I got back to the counter, I leaned against it, my back to the man, and stared at Richie.

“Do you know who that is?” I tipped my chin behind me, hoping he knew who I was talking about. Richie looked over my shoulder and cleared his throat, looking uneasy all of a sudden, and gave me one sharp nod.

“You mean the man who’s been staring at you since you came out from the back?”

So it wasn’t just me who noticed.

“The man who asked about you?”

I felt my brows lift in surprise. “He asked about me?”

Richie nodded. “Poppy, do yourself a favor and don’t get on his radar anymore than you already are.”

“Well, who is he?”

“He’s Butcher, President of the Devil’s Right Hand MC. He owns this town. He owns everything and everyone.” He leaned in close and said, “So when I say you’d do best to stay out of his line of vision, I mean just that. You’re too sweet of a girl to get mixed up with all that.”

I could see he was afraid, probably shouldn’t have even said anything, but despite the fact that I’d only worked here for a week, Richie was looking out for me. I wasn’t used to that. I didn’t trust that.

I did look over my shoulder then, and sure enough, Butcher had his gaze right on me once more. I swallowed, my throat feeling tight. No, I didn’t like the way I felt when he looked at me. I wasn’t afraid, didn’t feel like I was in danger. But I felt like he watched me as if he were waiting for the right moment to pounce. There was no other way I could describe it, no other way I could even begin to think of how to explain how I felt as we stared at each other.

What I did know for certain was that I needed to stay away from Butcher. He was dangerous. That much was obvious, and right now in my life, that was the last thing I needed.

Chapter Three

Butcher

I kept my gaze on the fucker with his two buddies, the one who slapped Poppy’s ass. I’d been stewing about it ever since I saw him touch her. I wasn’t about men fucking with women, but the rage I felt toward that prick who touched Poppy was a lot more personal.

It was wild and dangerous. It was violent.

That’s how I knew she was different, that she was special to me. I didn’t need to hear her voice or know her personally to understand how I felt. I always went with my instincts, and they told me she was mine whether she knew it or not.