Page 9 of Keys

“Yeah, where did you live before that you had better?” While it was a simple, curious question I would ask anyone, suddenly I felt guilty for doing so. Fucking Sweet! He planted the need to get information out of her in my head and it would taint every interaction I managed to have with her from that point onward.

She brushed off the question anyway, which I found odd. “No matter. I’ve been here long enough that this is the norm for me until someone points out how odd it is compared to other places.” She moved her shopping cart around and reached to grab some shredded lettuce. “Taco night,” she commented. “I am so not shredding all that shit by hand.” She laughed and turned back to me. “You’d be surprised how many tacos those women can put away.”

“I still doubt you’d want to put them up against the guys from my club.” I informed her as I grabbed a few bags myself. Taco night sounded like the best option for feeding the men. “At least you inspired dinner for tonight, so thanks for that. We can compare notes, about what we ran out of first, another time,” I teased.

“I suppose we can, and you’re welcome. Good to know your men won’t starve on your watch.” She got ready to walk away then, but I reached out and touched her elbow lightly to stop her.

“I have a question,” I explained as she glanced down at where my hand still touched her arm.

“I might have an answer,” she responded with a grin.

“What is your name?”

Her brows dropped in confusion as she stared at me. “You already know my name.” Her confusion morphed into a small smile as she tapped the kutte she wore. “Keys.”

“Yeah, and I’m Quickshot, but if we weren’t in the biker community what would people call you?”

“I’m fairly certain you already know,” she interjected and got ready to walk away once more.

“I wanted to pretend we met in a friendly exchange, rather than in a hostile pseudo takeover of the area.” I held out my hand in offering to her. “I’m Wallace McIntyre, and you are?”

She smiled, almost shyly, as she took my hand and shook it. “Sarah Keys,” was her response.

“Keys is your real name?”

“Of course, what else would it be?” It was supposed to come off like a joke, but instead, the tips of her ears turned red, and she looked away too quickly. I might not have noticed except she had worn her hair up in a ponytail, high on her head. Damn Sweet for putting that doubt in my mind, but it was obvious the woman was hiding something about who she really was. It had just become my job to find out what.

“You should join us tonight,” I extended the invitation before really thinking shit through.

She cocked a brow at me and then laughed. “To the taco night you just decided on when you saw me shopping for the dinner that I’ll be making the ladies of my MC later?”

“Yeah, it’s all about the company you keep, and I make far better company than any of those women can.”

“Does that include Angel Girl?” She asked while the hint of a smile teased the corner of her mouth.

“You would really pit me against my own sister?”

“Isn’t that what you just tried to do with me?”

“Fair enough. Maybe another night then.”

“Quickshot, I meant what I said about it being a one and done. I don’t do attachments.”

“I don’t remember asking for an attachment.” I turned and moved through the store to grab everything that I needed to feed a bunch of hungry assholes for the night. My thoughts stayed on Sarah Keys as I moved through the aisles, even though my goal was to show her how easy it was for me to walk away.

It wasn’t easy though. Walking away knowing I’d never get to have her in my bed again sucked. Knowing that I had to get closer in order to solve the mystery of the girl with no history was worse. I’d been ordered by my President to figure shit out. What started out as an infatuation, and easy party fuck, had turned into complicated too damn fast for my liking.

Chapter 3

“Do you want to explain why you seem to be popping up everywhere I happen to be, Stalker?”

“Wishful thinking` on your part, honey. I just needed to go to the bank today.” Quickshot looked damn good too. He was wearing a black thermal shirt under his kutte today, since it was on the chillier side after a cold front moved through the night before. His dark jeans and black motorcycle boots completed the look that only made his light blond hair stand out even more. I almost didn’t mind that he might be following me, considering he at least gave me something incredible to admire. He moved forward in the line, ignoring the man who had been standing between us. “What exactly are you doing here?”

I glanced around and offered up my best ‘duh’ look. “It’s a fucking bank, Quick. What do you think I’m doing here?”

“Lots of things to do in a bank.”

“Well, I’m not holding the place up, so we can scratch that one off the list.”

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