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

else. I grabbed my phone and tip-toed to the door. From the peephole I saw it was Brute. As quickly as I could, I unchained the door, then twisted the deadbolt.

I opened the door, but blocked it with my body. “What are you doing here, Sammy?”

He gave me a long look before his chin dipped in a semi-nod. “You’re a hard lady to find, Stephie.”

I smiled. “You think that might be by design?”

He shook his head. “How about you let me in, so the rest of the people around here don’t hear us?”

I shrugged and moved out of the way of the door. He shouldered inside the room and his size hit me in a way it hadn’t Friday night. Sammy wasn’t just big like his father, he was gigantic.

While he turned and locked my door, I said, “Don’t tell me, I want to guess. You bench three-eighty and can clean and jerk four-twenty-five.”

He turned from the door with his eyes closed. When his eyes opened, they glittered with irritation. “You shittin’ me right now?”

In a small voice, I said, “Um, no. I’m sorry. I suppose that was a rude way to open things. So, again, I’m sorry.”

He raked a hand down his stubbled face. “Christ. Don’t be sorry for that. Be sorry you’re staying in such a fuckin’ dive. Speaking of that, tell me why you’re staying in a hovel like this?”

My arms crossed on my chest. “It’s not a hovel, for heaven’s sake.”

His eyes widened and he snorted. “It’s not far off, babe. But, you haven’t answered my question.”

I leaned forward. “And I don’t have to. Hell, you haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

He trudged two more feet into my efficiency before he stopped dead. As his head twisted to take in the space, I realized he didn’t know it was a one-room apartment. His eyes glittered anew, but with sheer anger. “Fuck this shit, Steph. You aren’t spending another night here. My room at the compound is bigger than this.”

I huffed out a breath. “I’m not leaving, Sammy.”

“Brute.”

“Whatever. I’ve been here three weeks and no problems. You’re overreacting, and besides, your room at the compound doesn’t have a kitchenette.”

He chuckled derisively. “Damn right it doesn’t, because there’s a full-fledged and well-stocked kitchen three steps from my door.”

My traitorous stomach growled at the notion of a well-stocked kitchen and he heard it. “I’m not going anywhere, Brute. I don’t need pity.”

His hand slid through his hair and rested on the back of his head. “It won’t be pity, woman. It’ll be keeping you safe. For fuck’s sake, do you know where you are?”

I blew out a breath. “I know it’s not the best part of town, but it’s quiet.”

“Now. An hour from now, there might gunshots.”

“Haven’t been so far.”

“Jesus. Let’s stop arguing. I’m here because I wanted to know where you live. Heard you worked late tonight, so I knew you wouldn’t be asleep yet.”

My eyebrow arched upward. “You heard I worked late?”

He grinned. “Biloxi might be a tourist trap, but it’s a small town at heart, honey. Doesn’t hurt I got connections who told me...”

I nodded knowingly. His connections were either Delmas Huntley or Charles Huntley. To get my job, I’d cashed in a reference from Beast, another Riot MC brother. I probably could’ve landed the job without the good word, but when moving to a new state, any leg-up helped. “Fine. I just got home half an hour ago. You could’ve called to find out where I live.”

His grin brightened. “Yeah, except those two men are both worried about you. While they didn’t have your unit number, they know where you’re living, and they know it’s not right.”

I straightened my spine. “It’s temporary, Brute.”

“Call me, Sam.”

My head cocked. “Really? After you insis—”

“I was being a hot-head. So were you, but... I’ll always think of you as my little stepsister.”

Reluctantly, I smiled. “Thanks. I’ve missed thinking of you as my stepbrother. But all the family reunion shit aside, I’m not leaving.”

He tilted his head back, his eyes widened, and he leaned forward immediately. “Did you miss the shit-brown stain on your ceiling?”

My eyes drifted up to an ugly brown mark on the ceiling.

Thing was, I would swear that hadn’t been there three weeks ago. Hell, it hadn’t even been there thirteen hours ago, because I’d been on the phone with Suzy, laying on the futon staring at the ceiling.

“How the fuck does that happen in half a day?” I whispered.

“Half a day? What are you on about?”

I grimaced at the ceiling before looking back to him. “I talked to Suzy this morning before work. I laid on the futon staring at the ceiling and that stain was not there, I assure you.”

His head dipped and he exhaled in such a way, I knew he was hiding laughter. “You assure me,” he muttered. Looking down at me, he said, “Get your shit, Steph, You’re on the back of my bike. Let’s go.”

That snapped something inside me. “No, Brute. I’m not on the back of anybody’s bike because I have my own bike. Got it?”

He sighed and it sounded remorseful until he pointed a finger at me. “And that’s another thing we’ll be talking about. You got no business on a bike, Steph.”

I laughed. “Guess I can paint you the color ‘hypocrite’ because your dad said the same shit to you, right after you and Michael fixed up that first bike of yours.”

His head shook as his eyes narrowed. “No, Stephanie. The first thing he said was how badly he would kick my ass for taking you on a ride without a helmet, let alone your Mama’s permission.”

I bit my lower lip as I remembered that was true.

He looked up again. “Forget this ridiculous argument. Get your important shit and let’s ride. I don’t see that holding up very long.”

STANDING OUTSIDE THE door to his room, Brute pointed his finger at me, perilously close to my face. “The first fucking thing you do in