Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(93)

“I take it you aren’t on this mission with Tack and the boys?” I asked, now snatching a bra from my drawer.

“No.”

“Who else isn’t?” I asked, struggling with the phone between shoulder and ear to put my bra on.

“Recruits. Tug and Shy,” he answered.

“Right. Call them. Get on your bikes and get to…” I gave him the address and finished with, “Now.”

“Is Tack cool?”

“I don’t know. This isn’t about Tack. This is about something else. I need you and the boys at that address as soon as you can get there.” Then I added, “Come in the mood to be menacing and look badass.”

“What?”

“Just do it!” I shrieked, flipped my phone shut and snatched a tee out of my drawer.

I slid my phone in my pocket, found some flip-flops on the floor, slid my feet into them and tugged my tee on as I ran to the kitchen. Once there, I flipped on the light and went to my junk drawer. I rooted through it until I found what I was looking for. A can of pepper spray I bought last summer when there was a rash of break-ins in my neighborhood. They caught the guy and I forgot about it.

Until now.

I checked it and the expiration date was the month before.

Damn.

Well, whatever. It was all I had, I needed it, I was going to use it and I’d have Roscoe, Tug and Shy as badass-in-training backup if it backfired on me.

I grabbed my keys, exited my house, locked up and ran to my car.

I forced myself to concentrate while driving but I was shaking. All I could hear was Tabby’s sobbing in my head, her telling me her boyfriend hit her, the knowledge she had a boyfriend at all much less the fact that he was way too old for her. None of this was good news. All of it meant she’d lied to her father (and me) and that was just plain not good. I needed to keep it together, get her sorted and do what I had to do.

I made it to the complex, a double decker, doors to the outside walkways, the complex facing the street. I saw Tabby immediately, sitting on her ass on the bottom floor walkway, knees up, nose bleeding, eye swelling, tears visible.

And that was when I lost what was left of my cool. That said, I may have lost it but that didn’t mean ice water didn’t start running through my veins. It did and instead of losing my mind, I went glacial.

I parked a spot down from where she was and got out as she got off her behind and hurried to me. I moved swiftly, rounding the hood of my car and that was when I got a closer look.

So that was when I hit arctic.

I lifted my hands and settled them on her shoulders, whispering, “In the car honey, lock it. Napkins in my glove box to wipe up. You stay in there, no matter what. I’ll be back in a second to take care of you.”

I heard the pipes of a Harley and I knew Roscoe had taken direction. I didn’t look but Tabby did so I gently cupped her cheeks in my hands and forced her to facing me.

“Car, Tabby, now. Yeah?”

She was staring at me closely, scared, cheeks wet and that blood.

Damn it all to hell.

That blood.

“Did you call Dad?” she whispered.

“I did not, Tab, get in the car.”

“What… what are you gonna do?”

“Get in the car.”

“Tyra –”

“Car, baby, now,” I ordered as I heard another Harley approach the complex and felt a presence. I looked up and saw it was Shy.

Shy was christened Shy because Shy was not shy by any stretch of the imagination. Gregarious, flirtatious and friendly, he was too young for me, I had a hot guy (maybe) but that didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate the fact that he was mammoth, off-the-scales hot as in hot. Tall, dark, lanky, messy haired, beardless, long-legged, broad-shouldered, great ass, beautiful. He, like Roscoe, was not a new recruit. In fact, he’d been around longer than Roscoe and Tack had told me they were shortly going to take him fully into the fold and do whatever they did before they gave a boy his cut.

“What the f**k?” his low, deep voice sounded and his startling green eyes narrowed on Tabby’s face.

I let Tabby go and informed him, “We’ve got a situation.”

His angry eyes cut to me and he asked, “No shit?”

Hmm.

Maybe not a badass-in-training. Maybe just a badass.

Seriously, he was even more hot pissed.

“Did you call Tack?” he asked.

“No!” Tabby cried as Roscoe came jogging up to us and Shy’s eyes sliced back to her.

“Fuck me,” Roscoe muttered, getting a look at Tabby.

“We’re handling this ourselves,” I told Shy and he looked back at me.

“You’re handling what?” Tabby asked.

“This,” I answered, looking back at her.

“What?” she asked louder, she was losing it and probably part of her losing it was the sound of another Harley approaching.

So I dipped my face to hers and said softly but firmly, “A man does not take a hand to a woman. A man does not get involved with a girl. And a man definitely does not take a hand to a girl he should never have been involved with. That is what we’re handling.”

“Tyra –” she started.

I cut her off. “Get in the car.”

“Tyra!” she cried.