Fight(15)

I caught sight of her bra, her fingers going under her bra, and I grabbed for her wrist.

“Fucking stop!” I growled. “Christ.”

Winter put her shirt back down. She looked at me, her eyes glistening. “And to answer your question, I don’t know. I don’t know what me and Rocky were involved with or could have been involved with, okay?”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” Winter said. “There was always something happening. Someone trying to come after the MC. They’d meet with other bikers, they’d meet with gangsters, they’d meet with men in suits.”

“What about you?” I asked. “What about your past?”

Winter fell silent.

So I hit the nail on the damn head.

Something from her past was creeping forward. Christ, maybe it had nothing to do with the Red Aces MC and that’s why Aldo sent me here.

I gripped the wheel even tighter, my mind making it impossible not to think about Winter naked. I shouldn’t have asked, poked, pried, or cared. That’s why I pushed her away last night, right? I just needed to keep her alive until Aldo called me to come back.

I didn’t speak to her for the rest of the ride back to her place.

When we got there, she hurried out of the car and ran to the door.

I watched her open the door and go inside.

That’s when I hurried after.

She opened the door without her key. And the door was supposed to be locked.





10.


(Winter)



I didn’t use my key.

That thought processed in my mind a second before I saw the place. The couch flipped over. The dining room table the same. Everything was touched, moved, some items broken.

Tripp flew up behind me. I turned just as he was there, his hands scooping me up. Maybe he expected to find someone in the place, but there wasn’t. It was just a clear message sent directly at me.

Tripp lifted me up, carried me a few steps, and then put me back down. He let me go and jumped back. His eyes scanned the room.

“Shit,” he said. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”

“What? It’s my house.”

“The door was unlocked. It’s a set up.”

“Nobody is here. I’m fine.”

Tripp gritted his teeth. He took out his gun and told me to stay near the front door and not to touch anything. I really wasn’t in any position to argue with him.

I watched Tripp walk through my house. He was unbelievably sexy with the way he moved, the way he held the gun, the instinctive look in his eye that screamed for survival. I trusted him more than I trusted anyone in the MC.

Tripp emerged from the bathroom and went into my bedroom.

It was the first time he’d been in there.

I bit my lip thinking about the way I put myself out there with him when I was drunk.

Typical Winter, right?

Tripp came out of my bedroom, shaking his head.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. Whoever did this kept it right here. Nothing is missing?”

“Not that I can tell,” I said. “Not that I have a secret safe full of diamonds or something.”

“No secret safe. Just secrets.”

Tripp tucked his gun and walked to the kitchen window and looked out. He then opened the fridge and kept poking around the apartment. He fixed the couch and checked under the cushions. I fixed the dining room table and grabbed paper towels to clean up the mess on the floor.

We moved in silence until I stopped and looked up at Tripp, towering over me as I was on my knees. His hands balled into fists. His knuckles ripped up. Muscles rippling from his wrist up to where his arms pressed tight against his shirt.

“I’m not supposed to get involved,” he said. “I’m supposed to just protect you.”

“So what do you want? A medal? You want me to call your boss and tell him you’re putting in overtime?”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.”

“What are you going to do?”

I was challenging Tripp and I liked it. He inched closer to me. He put a hand to the table and leaned down a little.

“Look, darling, someone wants you dead.”

“They really tried this time,” I said. “Flipping over my used couch. I’m terrified.”

“Yeah, keep thinking that. That’s how people get killed.”

“Oh?” I slowly stood up. Standing, I wasn’t as tall as Tripp. But I was closer to him. Closer to that steel cut jaw. Closer to the scruff on his face. Closer to those scary brown eyes that were somehow still inviting and comforting. “How would I have gotten killed then? Tripped on something tipped over?”

Tripp shook his head. “If you opened your door and saw this, and I wasn’t here, what would you have done?”

I opened my mouth but stopped for a second. If I had been alone, I would have freaked out, sure. Who wouldn’t have? Would I have stayed in the house and cleaned it up so casually like I was with Tripp?

Probably not.

“Silence,” Tripp said. “That’s what I f*cking thought.”

He started to turn and I grabbed his arm. I pulled at him, bringing him back to me.

Tripp stood sideways. My fingers moved up and over the natural round feel of his bicep. A muscle built off throwing punches, defending himself, hurting other people.