Sinner's Steel (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #3)(22)

“What kind of father doesn’t want to see his son?” For all that Zane hated his father, and for all the abuse he had taken, when Zane needed him most—the one and only time in his life—his father had been there for him.

Evie tilted her head to the side and stared at him, considering. Then she twisted her hair around her finger. Around and around and around. Zane remembered that little quirk—something she always did when she was anxious.

“A stepfather,” she said, finally.

“He’s not Mark’s boy?”

A gunshot cracked the silence, and then another. Zane’s heart pounded and he slid his hand into his cut, closing his fingers around his gun. “Stay here until I come back for you. Hide.” He ran back into the store and spotted Shooter just outside the front door, firing his gun into the trees.

“Who is it?” He shouted from the cover of the doorway. “You see Axle? One of the Jacks?”

“Squirrel.” Shooter yelled. “Red tail. Tricky little bugger but I got him trapped in that bush.”

“Jesus f*cking Christ.” Zane ran over to Shooter and grabbed his wrist. “Put the weapon down.” He unleashed all his tension in a volley of curses directed at Shooter, his mental state, his mother, and his dubious parentage. “This is a surveillance mission. That means you don’t draw attention to yourself. You don’t shoot things. Gunfire has a nasty tendency to rile up civilians and then they call the cops. And right now the ATF are camped out in the sheriff’s office. You want to explain to the f*cking ATF why you’re shooting squirrels on private property?”

“He was on your bike, gnawing on your seat.”

“Gimme that gun.” Zane grabbed the weapon and fired three shots into the bush. “Take that, you goddamn f*cking bastard,” he hollered. “You wanna eat my leather? Now you’re gonna be eatin’ crow.”

“You missed.”

Zane handed him the gun. “You got a new job now, prospect. Clean my seat, fix the leather, then bring me that f*cking squirrel’s hide.”

“Yes, sir.”

Adrenaline pounded through his veins as he returned to the store, whether from the shoot-out or finding out Evie had split with Mark he didn’t know, but damned if he could get himself under control. He took a few deep breaths as he crossed through into the shop, clenching and unclenching his fist by his side.

“Evie?”

“Here.” Her voice was faint. “Can I come out now?”

He followed her voice to a storage closet at the far end of the shop and found her reaching for something on the top shelf.

“I figured I’d tidy up while I was in here and I saw a box of paint I’d forgotten about. Could you get it down for me?” Half in the shadows of the small, musty room, she looked back over her shoulder. “I’m not quite tall enough.”

Zane walked up behind her and grabbed the box. His body brushed up against her, his hips against her ass, his chest to her back, his chin brushing over her floral-scented hair.

Walk away. Walk away. Walk the hell away.

He slid his free hand around her waist and pulled her against his body. So perfect. So right.

“Zane.” Her voice came out in a choked whisper.

“You’re not with Mark?” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her ear, inhaling her scent of jasmine as the adrenaline streamed through his veins, straight down to his groin.

“No.”

His hand splayed over her stomach, pulling her close, and he nuzzled the hair away from her neck. “You got a man, Evie?”

“No.” Her voice wavered. “But … I kinda…”

He shoved the box onto a lower shelf and reached around to catch her jaw in his hand, pulling her head back against his shoulder, exposing her neck to the heated slide of his lips. Somewhere, in the foggy recesses of his mind, he knew he was being too rough, but he was barely in control and rough was as gentle as he could be. “So no one’s gonna shoot me between the eyes if I do this?” With his thumb he gently stroked the underside of her breast.

Evie sucked in a sharp breath, trembled. “No.”

His hand slid higher, tracing over her ribs until he held the full weight of her breast in his palm. “You gonna stop me from touching you, sweetheart?” He feathered kisses along the column of her neck, praying she didn’t deny him because he was already so far gone he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

“Zane.” She shuddered, her nipples peaking beneath her thin cotton tank top. He circled one taut nipple with his thumb and she groaned and wiggled her ass against his erection, nestled tight in the crack of her cheeks.

“Stop me, Evie,” he whispered. “Because I can’t stop myself.”

She melted against him with a sigh, her body softening. For the briefest of moments he soared, higher and higher, soaking in her light, her warmth, her essence …

He should have known what would happen if he flew too close to the sun.

*

“I can’t do this.” Evie pulled away, her cheeks burning with a flush of heat. She knew Zane, the dark, passionate, slightly awkward high-school senior who made her stomach flutter when he smiled; the boy with a good heart who’d been dealt a bad hand in life; her protector and one-time friend. But this man … this biker—broad and heavily muscled, tatted and pierced, ruthless and dominant, who walked and talked with confidence and swagger, and so easily manipulated her body, awakening long dormant passion and desire—was a stranger to her.