Smoke and Steel (Wild West MC #2)(12)

But he’d had thirty-six years of people like her thinking people like him were someone you feared or looked down on and avoided.

The fact she walked hand in hand with him and did what he told her to do, for some reason trusting him right off the bat, did something to his dick too.

Also something was happening in his chest.

Like the rest, even though this was harder, Core ignored it.

He didn’t take her to her car.

His truck was a few car lengths down from hers, farther from the house.

He took her there.

They stopped on the sidewalk by the passenger door, and he let her hand go, which kinda sucked, but it would seem weird if he held on to her.

Then he repeated himself. “Now, tell me what the fuck you’re doing.”

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Hardcore. Resurrection MC.”

Another wave of surprise hit her, then he could tell she thought she knew something.

“Oh my God, does Jagger know what Christos is up to?” she asked.

This Christos thing again.

“Who’s Christos?” he asked in return.

The friend jogged up but took the last five steps with her torso shifting back, her eyes locked to Core.

She stopped next to Hellen and demanded, “Have you been holding out on me?”

“No,” Hellen answered, flipping a hand at Core. “I’m as surprised as you are. He just showed up.”

Both women looked at him.

Core sought patience, not his biggest strength.

“What. Are you two women. Doing here?” he clipped.

“What are you doing here?” Hellen retorted.

“Keeping an eye on you,” he told her.

“Why?” she shot back.

He debated whether or not to tell her.

Straight up, he’d wondered why they hadn’t gone to the family in the first place. That part wasn’t communicated to him, and once Beck showed him a picture of Hellen, he didn’t ask.

But now, he had to make a decision.

It wasn’t like they’d bugged her house and Core knew everything about her. That said, he’d been watching her on and off for weeks, leaving for work, getting home from work, grocery shopping, hanging with her chicks, her family, going out with her man.

And everything he’d noticed when it came to Hellen Moynihan said the woman had her shit together.

“There are concerns your cousin is up to something,” he shared.

It took a beat for her to get pissed.

Yeah, she knew what he was talking about.

“She’s such a disaster,” she bitched.

“Who?” the friend asked.

Hellen turned to her. “My cousin, or my second cousin, Eleanor. She lives in Phoenix. She’s my dad’s uncle’s daughter. She’s bad news.” Her attention returned to Core. “What’s she up to?”

“We don’t know. Rush just wasn’t taking any chances.”

Another look came over her face, and fuck him, he liked that one too.

“He’s so sweet,” Hellen muttered.

“So, you’re her phantom bodyguard who shows up during coffee time, whistles and winks? Is that part of the invisible bodyguard playbook?” the friend asked.

“A woman stares at a man like she wants to climb him like a tree, he’s gotta throw her something, and if you got a dick, that’s definitely in the playbook.” Core replied.

“Valid,” the friend said under her breath.

Hellen wasn’t thinking sweet thoughts anymore.

Not even close.

“I didn’t stare at you like that,” she snapped.

“You totally did,” he returned.

The friend remained silent because Hellen totally did.

“I was admiring your wallet,” Hellen kept at it.

“You were panting after my ass,” he corrected.

“Hardly,” she dismissed.

“Tell yourself that,” he muttered.

“Okay, you are officially the worst bodyguard ever,” she announced.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, then he laid it out. “First, I tailed you from your house, and you didn’t make me. Second, I snuck up on you, got in your space, you didn’t even know I was there. What if I was one of those dudes in the house? You wanna be dragged in there to explain to three guys why you’re dressed like Catwoman on a casual day and snooping in their shit?”

“He has a point there,” the friend said. “Including the ‘Catwoman on a casual day’ comment, which I’ll also note is funny.”

The friend was wearing army green joggers, hot pink trainers and a lighter green sleeveless top with a V front edged in a ruffle.

It said a lot about her she could make that top seem edgy.

“Name?” he asked the friend.

“Marcy.” She offered her hand. “How you doin’?”

He took it, gave it a firm squeeze, let go and said, “Core. And I’d be doin’ great if one of you told me why the fuck we’re all standing here.”

“Maybe we should go somewhere else and talk,” Marcy suggested.

“Maybe you and me should do that and discuss what’s next and he can go back to phantom bodyguarding,” Hellen parried, aiming this at Marcy.