Unwilling Protector (Steel Vipers MC)

He pauses waiting for my answer. “Yeah,” I respond, not wanting to lie about that.

“He’s being a good guy and checking out your apartment before you enter. That tells me, whatever is going on, you’re tits deep in it.”

“Tits deep?” I squeak. He grins. “You followed me! You saw Mickey here?”

“That I did.”

“This is not your battle,” I respond, experiencing a range of emotions that move from being pissed and into worried.

“Ghost is my brother, and then there’s you.”

“I don’t think we—”

“Baby, I don’t know what this is between us. I’m going to do my damnedest not to move on it until Ghost is awake and I can talk to him,” he interrupts. “Still, there’s something here, and I don’t care what you say, you can’t deny that.”

“Train…”

“So, I’m not leaving either of you alone until I figure shit out and get it taken care of.”

“You left G alone,” I point out. “Maybe you should go back to the hospital.”

“I didn’t. The minute I got on my bike, I called Brambles to come back and watch over Ghost. That means I’m here with you.”

I frown, pushing my thick curls from my face.

“If you’re that worried, shouldn’t you leave me alone and think about yourself, Train?”

“It’s sweet you’re worried about me, Drew, but I can take care of myself. Now, go get me a pillow.”

“G thought he could take care of himself, too,” I point out with a dissatisfied mutter. I don’t wait for him to reply. Instead, because I’m stupid, I go get him a pillow.

Chapter 13

Train

“What’s this?”

I look up from the stove, surprised to see Drew standing at the door to her small kitchen. Small is kind of an understatement. I can barely turn around in this shithole—let alone the kitchen part of it.

I walk towards her, and she backs up, staring at the plates in my hands.

“I don’t know what they call it in North Carolina, but in Florida, we call it bacon and eggs, baby.”

“You cook?”

“I get by. My mother thought all her kids should be self-sufficient.”

“That’s thoughtful of her.”

I grunt, bringing our plates to the coffee table—since she doesn’t have an actual table in the place.

Drew pours orange juice and meets me over there. I like this a lot more than I should. Having breakfast with Drew, cooking for her, working together with her—all of it.

It doesn’t hurt that she’s fucking hot. She’s wearing white and pink shorts that barely cover her ass and a t-shirt with a Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet band logo on the front and tour dates on the back. Her hair is rumpled and messy, the long black curls tangled and sexy. Her face is flushed, and she looks better like this with zero makeup than she did the day before. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it is just the same.

Once we settle down, she takes a bite of her bacon. When she moans in pleasure, I nearly come in my damn pants. I feel like I’ve been hard for days—and if I think about it, I probably have been. Drew is giving a whole new meaning to the words, blue balls.

“Next time you talk to your mom, tell her thank you from me. I love crispy bacon. I never manage to get it done this well,” she says as she takes another bite.

“I haven’t spoken to her in twenty years, give or take,” I respond. She stops mid-bite and looks at me.

“I thought she taught you how to cook and—oh shit—did she die? I’m sorry, Train, I didn’t even think—”

“Relax, Drew. Last I heard, she was somewhere in Utah learning to make jewelry and part of a nudist colony.”

“There’s a nudist colony in Utah?” she asks, clearly surprised.

“Apparently,” I mumble around a mouthful of egg.

“Well, damn. You learn something new every day,” she whispers. For some reason, that makes me smile.

“Yeah,” I laugh. “You like Bob Seger?” I ask, using a piece of my bacon to motion toward her shirt. She looks down and shakes her head.

“Well, I mean, sure. Who doesn’t like him? But this shirt isn’t mine. It’s G’s. Since he’s been in the hospital, I’ve been wearing it. It makes me feel closer to him, somehow.”

I let out a grunt of annoyance, unable to stop myself.

“What?” she asks, and I know I failed to keep the anger from showing on my face. I gather up my dishes suddenly no longer hungry.

“Nothing,” I respond, keeping my back turned to her, clearing my throat.

She comes up behind me, and it takes some maneuvering, but we manage to work around each other so that I can turn around to face her. When I do, I almost wish I hadn’t. There’s confusion written all over her face. Her brow has this little wrinkle in the center of it betraying her worry. Drew’s beautiful whiskey-colored eyes stare at me as if she’s trying to understand.