Page 184 of Dirty Like Dylan

“Hey.” His voice was low and pissed off. “You here with that fuckin’ Taze kid?”

I drew my shoulders back, found my backbone and crossed my arms. Didn’t hurt that doing so shoved up my boobs in my new sweater. Didn’t hurt that he noticed it, either.

His gaze dropped, briefly, to my cleavage, before returning to meet my eyes, a little darker and more pissed off than before.

From his tone and the word “kid” I was gonna assume he didn’t approve—of Taze, or of him being here. I wasn’t fucking dense. I knew Taze’s motorcycle club, the Sinners, were rivals of Jude’s club, the Kings. And as Dirty’s head of security, not to mention their lifelong friend, anything—or anyone—connected to Dirty, including the home of their manager, Brody, and their songwriter, Jessa, was Jude’s territory. Which meant it was the Kings’ territory. That’s just how things worked, in the MC world.

Which meant that, in Jude’s eyes, Taze wasn’t welcome here.

I understood the MC world about as well as any woman could, and I wasn’t about to disrespect the Kings on purpose. Which was why I’d made Taze leave his Sinners cut at home.

Why I’d told him to leave his damn motorcycle at home and bring his truck.

“He’s not a kid,” I said evenly. “And yes, he’s here with me.”

“He’s a Sinner,” Jude replied, as if I needed reminding. “Next time you plan on bringing one to a Dirty affair, you run it by me.”

My eyebrows raised at his tone. I did not appreciate being told what to do. By anyone.

Least of all by a man who had no claim whatsoever over me.

Who wanted no claim over me.

“Next time I plan on bringing Taze to a Dirty affair,” I retorted, “I’ll bring him.”

Jude’s chest rose as he drew a silent breath. His nostrils flared and his jaw ticked.

“He’s here for me, Jude. Not to cause shit. He left his colors at home. For me.”

Jude looked around, without really looking at anything, and seemed to consider that. Then he took a step into the room. His dark eyes landed on mine again, heavily. “You’re lucky I haven’t kicked his ass out yet.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t try.”

Now his eyebrows rose, and a surprised chuckle rumbled out of him. “You think I’m afraid of some kid? Some Sinner? You think I couldn’t have half my club here in ten minutes to back me up, he wants to cause trouble?”

I placed my hands on my hips. “I didn’t mean you’re lucky because he’d raise shit if you tried to throw him out. I meant you’re lucky because I’d raise shit.”

Now he laughed. The dimples flickered in and out of his cheeks—and my pussy took notice. Of course, my pussy took notice the second he’d appeared, but now I felt my core clench with want.

I took a breath and said nothing, which I hoped just relayed how little I cared about any of this.

He shook his dark head and said, “I forgot for a fuckin’ second.” His gaze drifted south of my face again as he added, “You always were more dangerous than a pack of angry assholes, Roni.”

I tried not to smirk, but I kinda relished that compliment.

He moved in on me, suddenly, which I didn’t expect, and I had to back up to avoid touching him. I ended up against the crib, with Jude looming over me. His eyes searched my face. For what, I had no clue.

“How’ve you been doing?” he asked me.

I gathered from his tone that he was totally fucking serious.

“What, you mean since you last saw me?” I asked dryly.

“Yeah,” he said, his dark gaze snagging on my lips. “Since then.”

Well, shit.

Were we talking about this?

---