Kincaid: Cerberus Mc Book 1 (6 page)

She clutches both of them tightly in her hand. “Why are you helping me?” she asks while looking at her closed fist.

I sweep a finger under her chin and tilt her face upward so I can look into her questioning, cobalt eyes. I shrug my shoulders and wink at her. “I think you’re cute.”

Her smile grows immediately until she’s laughing at my ridiculous comment in such a serious moment. As fast as her laughter starts it stops, and I see her eyes dart to my mouth. I bite my lip for good measure and take note of the darkening in her gaze.

I release her face and take a step back trying to ignore the echo of her laugh as it settles in my thickening cock. I resist the urge to adjust myself into a more comfortable position and clear my throat. I angle my head to the bed.

“Rose got you a couple of things to wear. It’s enough for tonight and tomorrow. She’s going to take you to buy more tomorrow.” I take a step toward the door. “The bathroom should have enough for tonight. Make a list of what’s not in there so you can grab it tomorrow.”

Before I can leave the room, she finally speaks up. “Diego.” I turn my attention back to her. “Thank you,” she whispers with sincerity.

I take a few steps toward her. I lean in and kiss her cheek softly, smiling at the low hum that ghosts past her lips. “Anytime,” I breathe into her ear. “I’m going to order some pizza. Usually takes them about an hour to get it here. Grab a shower,” I say stepping back from her before I give into the voice in my head telling me to taste her lips. “Wash the day off of you and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” she says softly as I walk toward the door and close it quietly behind me, smiling when I hear the lock engage.

I round the corner into the common area and see Wrench leaning against the wall. He doesn’t say anything, but he has a look on his face that makes me want to punch him in the nose.

“I was serious before and I’m serious now, Wrench. Keep your distance from her.” He sneers at me but doesn’t say a word. I immediately regret the bylaws I wrote years ago when this club came to fruition.

I lock the door behind Diego the second he leaves and look down at the twin keys in my hand. I have no reason to doubt him, so I’m pretty certain these are, just like he said, the only keys to this door.

I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for him to change, paying attention to each and every mannerism. His consistency has set my mind slightly at ease, but I know better than to let my guard down completely, especially in the middle of a motorcycle club’s home turf, which is loaded with big burly men. I have no clue if any of them are trustworthy, and I have to assume, for my own safety, that each and every one of them is just as creepy as Wrench.

I sit on the edge of the bed that’s big enough for a handful of people to sleep comfortably in and open my purse. He wants me to go shopping tomorrow.
With what?
I think as I open the small zipper section and squeeze my fingers into the small tear in the pocket. I wiggle them around until I find the folded cash I have there. I was going to add this to the envelope Bobby found yesterday. Thank God I didn’t.

I tug it free, unfold, and count it. $24. Add that to the loose change in the bottom of my purse and I may be pushing twenty-six dollars.
I can buy an entirely new wardrobe with it;
I think and even in my head, the sarcasm is pitiful.

“How the hell am I supposed to go shopping tomorrow when I’m totally broke?” I mumble to myself as I scoop the bag of clothes off of the bed and lock myself in the bathroom.

When we pulled up to the nondescript building earlier, I noticed that it looks more like a very large shop of some kind. People who drive by it may think it’s used for a carpentry business or small warehouse. When I stepped inside and saw that it was fully furnished and looked like a home I was happily surprised since I’d assumed walking to the front door, I’d be sleeping in a cold, drafty room. Even that, I would’ve been grateful for considering I’m now homeless.

The way Diego paid for the room, how he had clothes for me this morning, and now these clothes, I’m certain he will once again offer to pay for my things tomorrow. But at what cost? What will he expect from me? I have nothing to offer him, and I was very insistent last night that he shouldn’t expect sexual favors in exchange. Not that I’d do that anyway.

The bag holds a couple pairs of jeans, t-shirts, underwear, and a bra that surprisingly is my size. I look at the still intact price tags. They’re not designer, but they’re not Target brand either. As I remove the tags from the clothes, I write down their prices on a piece of paper I had stuffed in my purse. I add the cost of the hotel room from last night as well.

I have nothing right now so I may have to let him buy everything I need, but I’ll be damned if I won’t pay him back. I won’t allow anyone to have that much power over me again. I have to take control of my life even though I have no idea how to even start.

I strip out of my clothes and climb into the shower, standing in the corner away from the spray while the water warms. Different types of shampoos and conditioners line the two small inset shelves. Most are masculine, but a few are what I’d consider to be feminine scented. I work the shampoo into my hair and wince as some of the suds find their way into my eyes.

I squeeze them shut and finish rinsing the soap from my hair before turning my burning eyes into the spray. I can’t even wash my hair without getting hurt. The first sob escaped my lips when this realization hit. With no more strength left in my body, I sink to the floor of the shower and cry until my tears run out and the only thing flowing over my face is the now cooling water from the shower head.

If the water hadn’t run cold, I would’ve stayed in the shower the rest of the night. That combined with the distress signals my stomach were sending out I begrudgingly got out of the shower, toweled myself dry, and got dressed in clothes that I couldn’t even call mine.

Another oddity about this place is the hair dryer I found in the cabinet under the sink. I don’t question it because I’m very happy with it being there. After drying my hair, I slip both door keys in my pocket, making sure they’re pushed down to the bottom and have no chance of working their way out.

Before leaving the room, I silently wish that Diego would just bring me food in the room, but I immediately want to slap myself for being so ungrateful. He’s been more generous than I could ever expect someone to be to a complete stranger and here I am wanting more than he’s already given.

I make my way out of the room and trace my steps back from when Diego brought me in earlier. The place is mausoleum silent. I usually welcome the silence. At least, I did when I was home; it meant Bobby was either gone or asleep. In this new setting, however, it’s unnerving; almost like someone is going to jump out and get me.

I stop short in the doorway when I see Diego sitting at the table in a white undershirt. Every inch of the exposed skin on his arms is covered in vibrant tattoos. One arm is decorated with all black tattoos, but the other has, from what I can tell, every color of the rainbow.

My eyes see the fierce yet sexy man in front of me, but my nose and body recognizes the smell of the pizza sitting to the left of his arm. My stomach chooses this exact moment to remind me I’m hungry by emitting a low growl. Diego’s head snaps up at the noise, and his smile grows as he closes the cover of the notebook he was drawing in.

“Doodling?” I ask taking a step closer to the table. Such a silly word for such a manly biker.

He grins at me, and when he does that not only does it cause butterflies low in my belly, but it makes him look younger and less hardened.

“You hungry?” he asks slipping the notebook under his leg.

My stomach rumbles my response, and he laughs lightly. “I’ll take that as a yes. Have a seat,” he says pointing to the chair beside him.

I sit down and take the slice of pizza Diego offers me on a paper plate and a chilled bottle of water. It smells heavenly, and my stomach doesn’t stop growling until over half of my second slice is gone.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I got supreme,” he explains as I pull off a large slice of mushroom.

“This is perfect,” I tell him after swallowing a small bite and washing it down with a sip of water.

I was just about to bring up tomorrow’s shopping when laughter from the other room invades our calm dinner. I could hear the men before they cleared the threshold of the door. I look up and see Shadow, Kid, Doc, and Rose make their way into the kitchen.

They each grab a paper plate, fish pizza out of the boxes, and sit at one of the other empty tables in the room. There are a total of five tables in the seating area just off of the kitchen. The big round tables hold eight to ten people easily, and I wonder what this place is like when all of those chairs are full.

“You going to show me your doodle?” I ask simply to make conversation with Diego.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of me since I sat down, and I hate that he’s scrutinizing me, knowing the bruises on my face are far from healed.

I look up at him and realize at his raised eyebrow just how horrible that sounded. “Your drawing I mean,” I say and dip my head down unable to hide the smile on my face.

“Emmalyn,” he says getting my attention. I look up at his smirking face. “I’ll show you my doodle anytime you want.”

My face heats immediately, and I’m so embarrassed I just turn my attention to the others at their table. They seem so relaxed with each other.

Family. That’s what Diego called them. It doesn’t go unnoticed that Wrench is nowhere to be seen. I have no doubt he is lurking around somewhere. I wonder if he’s purposefully creepy or if it’s something he’s just not able to hide very well.

I’ll show you my doodle anytime you want
… who the fuck says shit like that? Me apparently. The former Marine biker. She probably thinks I’m a complete idiot. I can sneak into a crowded village undetected and take out the leader of a terrorist regime, but sitting and having a normal conversation with this beautiful woman isn’t something I can manage without going full on idiot.

She turns her head, and the most magnificent blush hits her cheeks. She’s embarrassed, but I can’t tell if it’s because of what I said or if she pities me for my inability to say something serious around her. I usually flirt better than I have been with her. I know she just got out of a shitty relationship, but I can’t help it.

“More?” I ask motioning toward the boxes.

“No thank you,” she says politely.

I stand from the table and grab her plate and empty water bottle. I throw them in the trash and grab a couple of beers from the fridge before making my way back over to her. I know she has to be exhausted from the last two days, but I’m selfish and not ready to say goodnight to her just yet.

“Let’s watch some TV,” I say handing her one of the beers.

“Sure,” she says sounding relieved at the offer. Maybe she’s not ready to say goodnight either.

The recreation area, or what most people would call the living room, is made up of several different seating areas. We head past the poker table and over to the plush leather sofas in front of the big-screen TV. I pick up the tablet off of the table in front of us, tapping the screen to make it come to life.

“What in the world is that?” she asks as I hit the TV app on the lit up dashboard.

I shrug. “The remote?” I know she can hear the question in my voice. “Kid thought we should get with the times, so instead of having like five remotes to control the different devices,” I point in the direction of the entertainment center that houses the TV, Blu-ray, and sound system. “He set this up. Makes it a lot simpler.”

“Simple my ass,” Doc’s voice interrupts my explanation.

She smiles at him letting me know that she can tell just how decent of a guy he is.

“Pipe down, old man. Just because you’re too senile to understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t simple.” He laughs heartily but stops when Rose clears her throat behind him.

“I’ve told you a thousand times, Kincaid. Every time you call him old, you’re calling me old.”