Page 44 of DOG Part 2
“Actually, yes. That’s exactly it. God, you’re chatty, aren’t you?”
I grabbed several shirts and jammed them in the bag. I was trying not to show how scared I was. After my dad had phoned me to tell me I wasn’t safe, I had considered leaving town. Fury got the best of my fear, and in my anger with him, I convinced myself I could handle it. No way was some biker drama pushing me out of my life. I was in my last year of nursing school and I couldn’t just drop out and let years of work go down the drain.
Now this Kane guy was telling me I needed to go if I wanted to stay alive. My father was shot. I had no choice. I had to trust these men, but I didn’t have to like it. Especially not Kane, with that self-assured, domineering attitude he had when he walked up to my front door. He seemed confident to the point of cocky, the same biker machismo and arrogance my mother left behind. Hell, that alone was reason to despise him.
My hands swept over a hot pink shirt stuffed into the back corner of the drawer, and I almost cheered out loud at the discovery.
Perfect.
Quickly, I unbuttoned and stripped off the white button down shirt I was wearing over my camisole, and pulled on the hot pink one in place of it.
“You like it?” I asked, turning to Kane.
His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth drew into a thin line after he read the sparkly pink and purple words emblazoned across my chest.Property of No One.
I bought this many years back when I started to get a grasp of one of the traditions in the biker world, the one where motorcycle club members’ girlfriends and wives would wear ‘Property Of’ clothing to indicate which biker they belonged to. My mother had a slew of ‘Property of Banner’ shirts she kept in the bottom of her chest of drawer for years. I’d never been quite as relieved as when she’d thrown them all away. She should have burned them, actually, in order to really seal the deal, but she was hesitant to act on my suggestion.
I’d gotten my own custom made t-shirt years ago, but hadn’t worn it since I was in my late teens and making a serious habit out of being rebellious. Today, it was a little tight around my chest, but it was perfect in serving its purpose and getting a critical message to President Kane Angelo.
“Are you ready?” he asked, ignoring the question. “It’s dangerous to be hanging around here.”
“Let me grab my underwear.”
I turned around again and selectively snatched panties and bras, making no point to hide them from him. I didn’t go for this guy. Or maybe I did.
Shit, maybe it was both.
His presence and his reason for being here infuriated me, that was for sure. Yet I was grabbing only my best undergarments, ones with lace and tiny strings. The comfy underwear with Tweetie Bird and Hello Kitty logo got pushed to the back corner. They weren’t coming along for the runaway party.
I made a quick stop in the bathroom for my toiletries and I was ready to go. Grabbing a stray hair tie that was laying on the sink, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. My bangs were going to whip around like crazy on the bike, but there was nothing I could do about that. As I looked as my pre-on-the-run self in the bathroom mirror I caught his reflection. He was at the door waiting for me. Our eyes locked, and even when he saw that I had noticed him staring, he did not look away. Those eyes of his raked over my body, and when our eyes met again in the mirror’s reflection, he gave a cryptic laugh.
Son of a bitch.
The guy was probably wondering whether or not he would try to bed me less than fifteen minutes after meeting me, and less than twenty-four hours after my mother’s private cremation.
Dirty bastard.
My mother had done her best to shield me from the biker life after she left my dad, but I had seen enough back then. I knew some of the Rugged Angels had their own codes of conduct when it came to life, business and family. One of those codes was sex was pretty much acceptable at any time, in any place and with any woman they wanted.
“Think again,” I muttered, hoping it was low enough that he couldn’t hear me.
I grabbed the toiletries bag and went through the place again to switch off the lights, finally heading out of my apartment and away from the normal life that my mother had worked so hard to help me experience. Things were changing, and there was not a damn thing I could do about it. Not if I wanted to survive.
