Breathing His Air (2 page)

She screamed as she desperately tried to peel off his fat fingers, but he only laughed. At least, she thought he was laughing. She couldn’t be sure with all the noise, but his body shook.

Pain — hot, flashing agony — pricked her calf. She jerked, screaming even louder. Her leg on fire, her heart raced, her throat burned, and she struck out blindly with her eyes squeezed shut.

Then she was off Crazy Eyes, off the bike, and cradled in the arms of another man. Not any man, but another biker if she went by the long hair, leather under her hands where she held on to his shoulders, and a tattoo of a flame curling around the side of his neck and disappearing under his hair.

She straightened her legs, trying to remove herself from him. He tightened his hold. “Stop wiggling.”

That was when she realized all the bikes sat quiet and it wasn’t the roar of the engines thrumming the air, but her heart. “P-please. Let me down.”

“Be still.”

“I’d like to go home,” she said.

“Not now.”

“But — ”

“Don’t argue.” He carried her out of the maze of bikes and across the parking lot.

She gazed over his shoulder at the other bikers, her truck, the Coffee Shack. Nothing moved. “If you could just let me down, I’ll get out of your way. I’ll even pay you. How does free coffee for a week sound?”

Her capture kicked the front door of Cactus Cove open and carried her through the bar, down a back hallway, and entered another room. The cool air inside made her leg burn even more.

“I’m going to scream if you don’t let me go,” she said, pushing at his shoulders.

She couldn’t budge her way out of his arms. She fisted her hand, brought it back, and forgot all about her plan to deck him when he deposited her on top of a desk.

He pointed to her chest. “Don’t move.”

Now that she could see all of him, she stared at the black leather vest, no shirt. Prepared to leave the room to find Gladys or Taylor, one of the waitresses she’d met Friday night, she froze with her foot on the floor and her hip still on the desk. On the backside of his vest, he had the word
Bantorus
scrolled over the expanse of his broad shoulders.

He stopped in the doorframe without turning around. “I said, don’t move. I’m getting a first aid kit. Your leg needs cleaned. Be here when I come back.”

“Fine.” She scooted farther away, sitting smack dab on the desk. “You don’t have to act so bossy. You could’ve just said you were helping me.”

“Trust me, babe. I haven’t helped.” He walked out of sight.

She frowned. What did he mean by that?

Chapter Two

Rain strode into the kitchen of Cactus Cove, grunted and opened the cabinet door under the counter, removing a first aid kit. Damn girl was going to get herself in trouble. The last thing he needed to do was help someone who didn’t belong in Bantorus territory in the first place.

Bubba, the cook, stepped away from the open grill and acknowledged Rain with a lift of his chin. Rain returned the gesture as he left the kitchen. His manager, Gladys, had a lot to answer for in the morning.

Why Gladys thought it was okay to allow a coffee shop to park in his parking lot without asking his permission rubbed him wrong. He still ran the show around here, and she’d gone against club rules.

What he didn’t like was coming home after being on the road for three weeks to find hell breaking out in his territory with the Lagsturns in town. Now he had a woman, a non-biker, hanging around. That was asking for more trouble.

He pushed through the swinging doors, stalked down the hallway, and entered his office. His gaze went to the woman, and she scooted to the edge of his desk. He guessed her age at around twenty-four.

“I said, don’t move.” He threw down the kit beside her, taking in her long legs. “The more you wiggle, the worse it’s going to hurt.”

She froze. “What are you going to do with me?”

He grabbed her ankle and lifted. “Clean your leg.”

“What?” She scrambled backward, and he tugged her back to the edge of the desk. “You can’t touch me.”

“Saved your life. I’ll touch you when I want to.” He twisted his wrist, turning her to her hip so he could see her calf. “You need leather.”

She gasped, and he wondered if she even remembered she’d burnt her leg on the side of the muffler the way she stared at him. He removed the Solarcaine and popped the lid. She seemed flighty for someone who ran a business.

“Stings,” he said, right before he pushed the nozzle.

The spray hit the angry blister, the size of his fist. She sucked in her breath and squirmed to get away. He tightened his hold, not letting her move an inch. The last thing she needed to do was get an infection.

“Shit.” She panted. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Stings.”

“Told you.” He fought a grin, leaned over, and blew on her leg without taking his gaze off her face. She clamped her teeth together, her eyes rounded, and she stopped breathing.

Several seconds passed.

“Breathe.” He inhaled, and then continued to blow softly over her raw flesh.

Damn, she was sexy all shocked and surprised. Something he tried to ignore, and hell if he could. She was something else.

The frilly red apron with white ruffles around the edges covered the skimpy shorts and tank she wore. No wonder the guys had laid into her. She looked like a high-class stripper minus the pole with an overload of goofiness.

Even the spiked heels matched her outfit. Sex shoes. He grew lightheaded and stopped blowing. The only place she should wear them was in bed with her man, not outside a biker bar.

He opened a four-by-four piece of gauze and smeared antibiotic cream over the blister. Then he covered her burn without any warning. He spared her a look, making sure she didn’t move or pass out. After he taped her bandage on, he straightened.

“Leave it on today. Remove it at night and let it dry. Hear?” He grasped her by the waist, picked her up off the desk, and set her on her feet in front of him.

Her eyes, the color of bourbon, stared up at him. He growled low in his throat, warning her away. He knew that look.

A woman who could go from cold to hot in a matter of seconds was trouble. Unpredictable, too sexy for her own good, and whacked enough to be game for anything. Exactly what he didn’t need in his life at the moment, and a quality most men would jump on without thinking. He never jumped.

“Th-thank you.” She held on to his arm. “It feels better.”

He grunted and turned away to stand by the door. “Taylor will walk you home.”

“Where?” The skin between her perfectly arched brows wrinkled.

“Your home.” He turned away. She was either suffering from shock or had a hearing problem. “Taylor will take you. Keep you safe, so the bikers don’t bother you.”

“Oh, Taylor.” She relaxed and a smiled transformed her face. “Is she here now?”

“Yeah.” He frowned. How did she know Taylor?

“Thank you again.” She patted the front of his chest.

He stared down at the pink fingernail polish, feminine fingers, and thought he’d better warn her again. “Stay away from the bar, babe.”

“What?”

“No place for you. Stay home,” he said.

“I haven’t done anything wrong. You can’t keep me from coming here.”

“My bar.” He lowered his gaze to her chest. Under her apron, her breasts heaved. “My rules. My club.”

“That’s stupid, not to mention bad business. I eat here.” She stuck her nose in the air.

He cupped himself and adjusted his jeans, grinning when she blinked rapidly and her cheeks flushed. How long had it been since he’d even talked to a woman who retained the ability to blush?

“I’ll just” — she pointed to the door — “go find Taylor.”

“You do that.” He leaned against the desk, crossed his ankles, and kept watching her.

She hesitated, and when he made no move to stop her, she scurried out of the room. He ran his hands through his hair.
Trouble.

Women who dressed the way she did and played games weren’t worth his time. He’d learned that with Crystal. Sure, the coffee lady had a pretty face, a killer bod, but so had Crystal. His ex-girlfriend had thrown him under the wheels of a rival biker club faster than it took her nail polish to dry.

He had businesses to run and with the Lagsturns’ arrival, he had more business to attend to than normal. The faster she was out of his territory, the safer she’d be.

His phone rang. He ruffled through the scattered papers lying on his desk and found his cell phone underneath. “Rain.”

“It’s Torque,” said his right-hand man.

“What’s up?”

“The rest of Lagsturns blew through Klamath heading north. They’ll arrive in about a half hour tops.” Torque cussed. “I counted a hundred riders.”

“Hell.” He closed his eyes for a second.

“You can say that again. You expecting trouble, boss?”

“Yeah.” He moved over and gazed out between the blinds on the window. “Nothing I can’t handle. See you tonight.”

“Have a cold one waiting.” Torque hung up.

Owning Cactus Cove, Shift’s Garage, and the Cozy Inn and Lounge in town, Rain knew he’d be asking for a fight if he forbid service to the other riders who swung through Pitnam, but he knew from experience the Lagsturns rode for damage. Unlike the smaller groups who caused no problem and were part of the brotherhood, the Lagsturns painted the streets dirty. They had no respect for the road, dealt in drugs, pushed boundaries, and no one’s woman was safe. They took, and damn the consequences of their actions. He had to warn his employees.

Taylor and Tabitha worked the tables alone until eight when Heather, Ginger, and Janelle came in to work the night shift. Tonight, he’d help Bruce out behind the counter to be on the safe side. Meanwhile, he’d put his men on every one of their women.

That included the little troublemaker who parked on his territory. Damn Gladys. What the hell was she thinking letting some chick hang out at the bar who didn’t belong here?

Shutting his office door, he strolled down the hallway and slipped behind the counter of the bar. He eyed the corner table where it seemed everyone in Cactus Cove congregated. Bruce, his fulltime bartender, lifted his chin.

“Hey.” He flicked his gaze across the room. “What’s going on?”

“Tori.” Bruce flipped the dishtowel over his shoulder.

He picked a mug off the shelf and moved over to fill it from the tap. “Who the hell is Tori?”

“You know, the woman from the Love Shack out front. Coffee girl.” Bruce grinned. “It’s the third time she’s come in, and I don’t know what she does or says, but she creates a scene every time she steps into the place. It’s not only the guys who are paying attention, the babes are hanging around her too. Even my girlfriend talks about her all the time, like she has a damn girl crush on her.”

Tori? Fuck. Even her name was goofy.

“I’m covering the bar tonight. Lagsturns are in town.” He tore his gaze away from the crowd and pinned Bruce with a look. “I’m sending Taylor on a break. Cover for her.”

“Sure, boss,” Bruce said.

Rain walked across the room, pushed his way into the group standing around the table, and came to a stop at the sight of the woman. A woman who minutes ago he’d had on his desk, legs apart, his mouth blowing on her calf, while he thought he’d like to do much more than blow across her skin.

He glared. “Hey.”

She ignored him, and kept talking to Gary Larson, who worked at Shift’s Garage, while periodically licking a purple sucker she held in her hand. He looked back and forth between them. Gary, his whiskered, scarred face bent, a scary figure to most bikers, sat enthralled with whatever she was telling him.

He grunted. Hell, all the men sat hypnotized watching her. He’d bet anything they were imagining her tongue licking them instead of that damn lollipop.

Tori patted Gary’s hand as if they’d been friends their whole lives and were just catching up with each other, and smiled around the table. He moved forward. Her little powwow was over.

“All right. Everybody, clear out.” He leaned over, gripped Tori’s upper arm, and hauled her away from the table. He passed his beer to Tabitha and motioned for Taylor to follow him. “Back door. Now.”

Tori skipped along beside him, tottering on her heels, and he slowed down, muttering. He should’ve left her alone, or at least hauled her over to someone else to clean up after her run-in out in the parking lot. Now he was responsible for her.

Taylor stepped up beside Tori at the back door. “What’s going on, boss?”

“Take her home.” He leaned over and got right in Tori’s face. “Lock your door. Stay put, and do not come back here.”

Tori snorted. “Are you always such a dumbass?”

Taylor gasped. Tori tilted her head and challenged Rain with one look. He inhaled deeply and refused to budge.

Her lips, stained from her sucker, were like a flashing neon light to him. He swallowed past the bubble of laughter threatening to unman him. For someone who weighed no more than a full set of leathers, she had guts.

“You’ll stay home.” He opened the door. “I don’t want you back.”

“You’re serious?” She crossed her arms, her breasts lifting. “You can’t do that. I work here … I mean, out there in your lot. I’ve got permits and everything. You can’t make me stay away.”

“Not any longer. As of tomorrow, you can move on.” He planted his boot in the doorway and pointed. “Taylor, walk her home.”

“But, boss — ”

“Now.” He never took his eyes off Tori. “That’s an order.”

Taylor stepped between them. “Come on, girl. I’ll walk you across the lot.”

Tori’s jaw dropped, and she shoved her sucker in her mouth and clamped her lips shut. She walked with Taylor a few steps before she stopped, whirled around, and strutted in her high heels back to Rain. He almost chuckled. Damn, she was a sight.

The tip of her shoe tapped into the toe of his boot, she was that close. Then she pulled her lollipop out of her mouth. “I have one last thing to say to you.”

Her eyes darkened with emotion. He peered down at her. “What?”

“You’re mean.” She poked her sticky sucker into his chest, looked at it, frowning, and dropped the sucker to the ground. “A waste of a perfectly fine lollipop too.”