Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi by Karen Renee (best e book reader .TXT) 📕

only thing that sucks more than riding in the rain is riding when it’s cold and rainy.”

She grinned. “Yeah, I’m aware, Har. Had my girl for three years now, and never relied on a cage to get me through rainy days. But, I appreciate the advice and I’ll keep it in mind.”

He closed his eyes trying to obliterate her words from his mind. When he opened his eyes, his mouth ran away from him. “Your ‘girl?’ You think of your bike as a girl, even though you’re a woman?”

Her grin turned placating and her head tilted. “Women get shit done. She gets me from point A to point B and back. Damn straight she’s a girl.”

“Who painted her?”

“Sorry?”

He lowered his head a touch. “You heard me. Who painted her? No way you bought that bike with a custom job like that. So, who painted her?”

Her grin became a Mona Lisa smile. “A place back in Jacksonville, but I drew the design for them.”

That surprised him.

“You did?”

She nodded.

“Didn’t know you drew.”

“Now you do.”

He took a deep breath. “So, what do you want on your pizza? I normally order a meat pizza, but I’m feeling more like supreme or something with mushrooms and olives.”

“Mushrooms, olives and ground beef sounds good,” she said as her eyes slid to the side for a moment. “But the beer is important.”

He laughed. “Think I got that, Miss Priss.”

Chapter 6 Thank You Suzy Junior

Stephanie

MISS PRISS? If he thought I was prissy, he needed to think again.

As soon as he left to get the pizza, I put together a bag of ice for my head. I didn’t let him see, since I already felt foolish, but I conked myself a good one when he scared me. Never occurred to me that the counter of the island was so heavy it demanded extra support.

Holding the bag to my head, I took my sheets out of the washer and put them in the dryer. As I was loading my uniforms into the washer, I heard the front door open. Great. The only thing I had at my disposal as a weapon was a laundry basket, a bag of ice, or detergent.

“Steph!” Har yelled.

I exhaled my relief. “I’m doing more laundry,” I called back.

Once I had the washer going, I grabbed my ice bag and went to the kitchen.

As he pulled two bottles of Coors from a case, his eyes narrowed on my hand. “What’s with the ice?”

I smiled. “Nothing. I’m done with it.”

“You needed ice for your head?”

“It’s no big deal, Har.”

“Michael. And it is a big deal. You should’ve told me about it. Not let me drive off for pizza. For fuck’s sake, you could have a concussion.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t that bad, and hate to break it to you, but I have a far thicker skull than you realize.”

He rolled his eyes at me, but then his hand cupped the crown of my head and slowly moved down my scalp. My body froze and I felt my nipples tighten.

Crap. I shouldn’t react this way to him stroking my head. I had to get a hold of myself.

“You’ve got a goose egg. You sure you’re okay?”

The air felt thicker between us, but surely my imagination was in overdrive.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s eat. Where are the plates?”

His hand at my head reached out to nab a beer and he handed it to me. “Sit over there. I’ll plate up the food.”

I didn’t expect him to eat with me, but after he slid my plate to me, he sidled around the island to sit next to me.

We ate in silence for a while.

He put his bottle down with a loud thunk. “Why are you living out here?”

I swallowed my pizza. “Better tips out here, than in Jacksonville.”

“Okay. Let me be more specific. Why were you living in that dilapidated building? Surely, you could afford something better than that.”

I sighed and stared at his shiny stainless-steel refrigerator. It wasn’t easy to ’fess up to what pushed me out here.

“As it so happens, I couldn’t afford anything better than that. The last man – and I use the term loosely – I was with cleaned me out. I should have protected myself better, but stupid is as stupid does. At least that was what Mom had said.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispered.

“It was close to two years ago. Mom passed away little over a year ago.”

He downed the rest of his beer, watching me closely the entire time. I finished my pizza, not about to show him any discomfort.

“Didn’t you save up your money?”

I did a slow nod. “Yeah, but bills are bills. So, I took the cheapest place I could tolerate. It really wasn’t so bad in the daylight.”

He grunted. “Funny. The ceiling fell in the daytime. I’m sorry to hear about your Mom. It’s not easy losing a parent.”

I pressed my lips together and gave him a sympathetic look.

His father, a firefighter, had died in the line of duty when Har was fifteen. He talked endlessly to Brute about the tattoo he’d get to honor his dad, while they fixed up that first bike years ago.

Thinking about it, I blurted, “Did you ever get the tattoo in honor of your Dad?”

He stuck his forearm out my way. A Maltese cross with his father’s number took up the bulk of his inner forearm. I was glad he finally got a tattoo, but I didn’t let myself take it in too long because it would rekindle those buried feelings I had for him. They were the feelings of a young girl, but you never forgot your first crush, did you?

Har

HE WITHDREW HIS ARM. Of all the things she could remember about him, his talk of a tattoo surprised the hell out of him.

His mind raced back to something she said. “How does a man clean you out, Combes?”

They were seated side by side. She turned her head fully to him. “If I’m to call you