Fight(7)

Her eyes were a crystal clear blue that took me back for a second. Her lips were a little thin, but had such a unique shape to them, I instantly pictured running my finger along them, tracing them. Better yet, using my tongue.

I snapped myself back to reality.

Christ, I needed to get laid. And soon.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

My eyes scanned down. I had no choice. Her breasts were perfect. Pressing against the black shirt she wore, leaving nothing for the imagination because it was easy to see she had been blessed in that department. Besides that, she had a name tag on.

Winter.

“Eyes up here,” she muttered.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said. “I’m actually looking for you.”

She put her hands to her hips. The subtle curves of her body made my fingers twitch.

“Excuse me?”

I put my hands on the counter and leaned forward. “I’m looking for you, darling.”

“Why?”

“I’m Tripp. I’m supposed to keep you alive.”

The color dropped from her face. She stepped back from the counter and bumped into a stack of mugs. They jangled together and she spun to keep them from falling.

My eyes scanned at her back now. Her shirt pulled up just enough to show a sliver of skin. Her jeans did wonders for her ass. I became instantly jealous of her back pockets, wanting to slip my hands into them.

Then I reminded myself something.

She’s a f*cking widow, man. Remember what Aldo said. And someone out there wants to kill her.

Winter looked over her shoulder. Hair in her face, one of her blue eyes shining through it. “Give me a sec.”

She then charged down the counter and disappeared.

A few seconds later she came out of a side door. When she hurried toward me, her breasts bounced so freely. I gritted my teeth with my mouth shut, demanding myself to keep my eyes on her face, which didn’t help much because of how beautiful she was.

“Here,” she said and pointed to a table. “Sit, please.”

I grabbed a chair and spun it around. I straddled the chair.

“Do you want a coffee or something?”

“No,” I said. “You work here?”

“Sometimes. My friend owns the place. I live out back.”

“Out back?”

“There’s a converted garage. Better than being in the clubhouse.”

“The clubhouse?”

“Yeah. Red Aces MC.”

“Fucking hell,” I said. “You’re with the MC?”

“Yeah. Didn’t… whoever sent you tell you that?”

“No. I didn’t get much of anything. Other than you’re a widow and I have to make sure you don’t end up dead.”

Winter sucked in a breath. “Wow. That’s bold.”

“Sorry, darling. That’s how I work. So who is out to kill you?”

Winter blinked fast. “Uh, well, I… I’m not sure.”

“That helps. You shouldn’t even be in this area right now.”

“That’s why you’re here, right?”

“Bullshit,” I said. “If it were up to me, you’d be out of here right now. When does your shift here end?”

“I’m not really on the clock,” Winter said. “I just had to get away from it all.” She leaned across the table to whisper. “All they do is drink and talk about revenge. Then they look at me funny, you know? Like maybe I’m the problem. Or maybe they all want to f*ck me, since I’m free game now. The sad thing is… if one of them wanted to… I probably would. Out of necessity.”

A weak smile flickered across her face and faded. I noticed when she spoke she had the smallest of gaps between her front two teeth. For whatever reason, it drove me goddamn wild. I balled my hands into fists.

“That’s not going to happen,” I said. “You’re not f*cking anyone while I’m protecting you. What I need you to do is show me where you live and tell me everything you know.”

Winter pointed to my fists. “What happened to your hands?”

I looked at the roughed up scabs. I flexed my knuckles a few times. “A fight.”

“I noticed your face and jaw looked swollen.”

I stood up. “You should’ve seen the other guy. Let’s move.”

Winter pushed from the table. She stood up. I moved closer to her, realizing that she barely came up to my chest. So much shorter than me. Her heart obviously broken. In need of protection. Somewhere inside her, desperate to have the touch of a man.

Fuck. I was in big trouble. Aldo should have just shot me in the head.





6.


(Winter)



He smelled like a man, looked like a man, and threatened every desire my body had. His shoulders pressed hard against his shirt, his arms filling the short sleeves with ease. He was rough, tough, maybe even a little dirty, but not like the guys in the Red Aces. They were designed to look the way they did. Wearing leather cuts, patches that had different meanings and positions.

Not Tripp.

He looked bold and reckless.

Just what I needed.

I led the way out of the back of the coffeehouse, feeling him just inches behind me. A few times, I wondered what would happen if I just stopped walking. If he’d crash into me, his hands at my hips.