Page 36 of Bear

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bear

Ifrown at the bikeparked behind the shop. It’s a Harley, but it’s a bigger piece of shit than my own. And I know it doesn’t belong to any of my brothers. They’d be embarrassed to ride that shit, which then begs the question: who the fuck is visiting my woman so goddamn late?

Gravel crunches beneath my boots, alerting anyone inside to my presence. Not as though my pipes didn’t already do that. I’m just three feet from the door when it’s thrown open and Tink runs into my arms.

“Whoa. If I’d known you were this excited to see me, darlin’, I woulda come an hour ago.”

Her whole body is trembling. I stiffen because it isn’t from the cold. I rub my hands up and down her arms as she sobs. “Tink, what happened?”

“H-he came out of nowhere. I thought it was you, and then I realized that I didn’t know the sound of th-that b-bike and I know the sound of yours. He didn’t s-smell like y-you. So I just swung and swung until he was on the ground.”

“Who, darlin’? Who did you hit?”

“I don’t know.”

I release her and pull my gun from the holster beneath my cut. “I’m gonna check things out, okay? Stay here.”

She nods and I aim my pistol as I walk inside. My gaze immediately falls to the body on the ground. I cross the shop floor and toe the asshole’s inert frame with my boot. He doesn’t move. I kick away the monkey wrench and lean down to check his pulse.Nothing. Holy shit. I knew Tink had fire, but she took down a man three times her size with a goddamn wrench. If I wasn’t so fucking proud, I’d be frightened.

Still, as tough as she is, she’s gonna be horrified when she figures out she ended a life. I glare down at the fat fuck—he has a grey beard, wiry hair in a fucking mullet, and a Bayou Bastards MC patch on his cut.Motherfucker. I lift my boot and bring it down on his head.

“What the hell are you doin’?”

I glare at her, removing my foot from the oozing cavity left by my boot. “Finishing it.”

“He was already dead.”

Her blue eyes meet mine, and I see confusion in them. My shoulders fall.She already knew.

Her lips form a thin line. “You thought he was still alive?”

“No. But I was tryin’ to save you the heartache of knowing you killed a man.”

She glances at the body, at the mess I made of the asshole’s head, and she races across the floor, stopping only when the toes of her boots are almost touching mine. “You’d do that for me?”

I scoff. “Hell, baby girl. I’d do just about anythin’ for you. I’m surprised you don’t know it already.”

She lifts one small shoulder in a nervous shrug. “Well, for a smart woman, sometimes I can be a little dense.”

A half-smile creeps across my lips, but it quickly disappears, and I flinch when she runs her fingers through my beard, slides them into my hair, and tugs me down to her so I’m just inches from her mouth. I feel like I’m always walking a tightrope around her, torn between my natural alpha Daddy instincts to take, to punish, and to care for her. Yet I’m still living in my head, still living in a war zone. I have to be careful here.

“You don’t like to be touched?” Her eyes are sad and imploring as they search mine.

I furrow my brows. “Depends on who’s doing the touching and where.”

“What if the someone is me?”

“Baby girl, I might flinch a little from time to time if you catch me off-guard, but you can touch me whenever and wherever you like.”

“Good, because I’m gonna kiss you, Tennessee, and I can’t be held accountable if my hands start wandering.”

She stands on her tiptoes and purses her lips. It’s clear even with me bent double that she needs a little encouragement, so I lean closer, wrap my hands around her waist, and press my lips to hers. She melts into my touch. My tongue pushes inside her mouth, and she moans as I slide my hands down her back to cup her ass. Fire courses through my veins, and I envelop her body in mine, my hands kneading her Georgia peach cheeks as she squirms to get closer.

My dick presses against her belly, and she climbs me like a damn tree until I’m forced to grab hold of her as she wraps herself around me. My splayed fingers tease the seam of her jean shorts. She snakes her arms around my shoulders, and I walk us to the workbench, swiping aside tools that clatter to the floor. Her gaze follows their descent and lands on the dead body. My eyes dart across the mess of brain and bone fragments and my bloody boot prints to the bench. Between life on the Teams and life in the MC, I’m used to seeing this kind of shit, I’m used to being the one to cause it, but that doesn’t always make it easy. But I’m guessing this is a first time for Tink because her eyes grow wide, and she looks like she might pass out. Either that, or she’s only a few seconds away from blowing chunks.

“Shit,” I murmur. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I fucked up.”

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