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Barely Undercover: Legal Heat Book 2(38)

By:Sarah Castille


“I don’t give a damn what anyone is thinking. I’ll wear what I want to wear. I’ll sing if I want to sing. And I’ll stand where I want to stand.” Her hands found her hips and she gave Ryder her fiercest scowl. “I would have attracted more attention if I had stayed in my seat since everybody in the hall is on the tables. Now clear off and let us get back to drinking and having fun.” She poked him in the chest for good measure, despite the fact he could probably crush her with one mighty blow of his fist. The old ladies she had known always poked their men.

Ryder startled and stepped back. A chuckle escaped Lana’s lips. God, if she’d had this attitude when she’d been with Levi, no one would have messed with her.

“I have no fucking idea how he controls you,” Ryder growled, batting her hand away.

“He doesn’t. I’m uncontrollable.” She cocked her head and frowned. “What’s it to you anyway?”

“You’re Ice’s girl. Means I protect you like you were mine. And if you were mine, I’d be taking you back to the club. A table full of drunken bikers, two pretty girls in…those outfits… It’s a recipe for disaster, rules or no rules about touching old ladies.”

Back to the club? She would have refused point-blank, save for the fact it would give her a chance to warn James about Rex.

She effected an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Take me back to the club. I suspect you would do it even if I said no.”

Ryder’s eyes twinkled. “I was thinking I’d have to throw you over my shoulder, maybe tie you to my bike. Good to hear you’ll come along easily.”

A small sound left Jackie’s lips, a cross between a moan and a whimper. Ryder’s head jerked in her direction and his gaze raked over her body, finally coming to rest on her flushed cheeks. His eyes softened and his voice dropped to a husky rumble.

“We can’t leave you on your lonesome. I’ll ask Kickstand and a few of the boys I trust to keep you company until I’m back. That is…if you’re sticking around.”

Jackie’s cheeks brightened and she gave him her coy, endearing, come-hither smile. “I still have a stein of beer and a plate of sauerbraten to finish, so I’m not going anywhere.” She gave Lana a wink then headed back to her table where Hans and his companion were comparing lederhosen length.

Best wingman assignment ever, Jackie mouthed over her shoulder. She gave Lana two thumbs-up to let her know she would be okay on her own.

“How did you know it was me?” Lana toyed with her blonde braids as she and Ryder walked to the door.

“A man sees you, Roxie, you’re burned into his brain. No matter what you’re wearing.”

Lana’s face flamed. Although hanging around the bikers still made her uneasy, they were damn good for the self-esteem. Well, these bikers anyway.

Was she burned into James’s brain? He was burned into hers. And despite his postfight brush-off, masochist that she was, she couldn’t wait to see him again. Especially wearing her milkmaid outfit. He had a bit of a kink for role-play.

But if they were done, they were done. At least he would be safe and she would have enjoyed the ride. Her heart would just have to heal all over again.





Chapter Eleven

“She was where?” James’s shout rang through the empty Hades clubhouse.

Startled at the high decibel level of his outburst, Lana instinctively searched around the lounge for a place to hide. She should have gone with Ryder to find him. Maybe a little smile would have softened the blow.

“Wearing what?” His voice rose and Lana’s heart pounded. Not good. Not good at all. She spotted a small closet and threw open the door. Too small. Especially with all the petticoats under her skirt.

“On the table? Jesus Christ.” His growl became a yell and Lana fought the urge to dive behind the couch.

“Roxie! Where the fuck are you?”

Trembling, despite the calming effects of excess alcohol consumption, Lana gritted her teeth, clasped her hands in front of her, and stepped into the middle of the lounge, meeting James’s fierce scowl with a cheerful smile.

“Guten Abend.” It wasn’t really a good evening, but it was always prudent for frisky fräuleins to be polite when faced with an enraged biker and his erstwhile companion.

James’s eyes bored into her like laser beams, raking over her body from her crisp but slightly askew linen cap to her shiny Mary Janes and back up again, hovering over her demicorset-enhanced bosom. His eyes darkened and his body stilled. Anger or arousal? She couldn’t tell, but she wasn’t afraid to play with fire. She racked her brain for the few German phrases Hans had taught her.