“I don’t care whose signature it is, you were working with Robert on this.”
“No, I wasn’t, Hanson.”
“Listen, Eloise,” he leaned in, and she moved an inch back. The scent of fast-food wafted from him and when he smiled, flashing his crooked and yellowed teeth, she felt her stomach roil with disgust. He reached out, picked up a small lock of dark hair that fell over her shoulder, and made this gross sound deep in his throat.
“Back off, Hanson.”
He ignored her comment. “I think you’re wild, aren’t you, Eloise? I bet if we got you naked and took off those glasses you’d be the naughty librarian—”
Hanson’s words were cut off when Steel pulled him away from Elise so quickly she hadn’t even seen him approach. He didn’t throw Hanson on the ground, but he did toss him aside with enough force that Hanson stumbled backward and caught himself before he fell.
“When a woman says back off, you back the fuck off, man.” Steel said in a hard, commanding, and take no shit voice. “Being a motherfucker to women is going to get your ass handed to you and your body six feet under.”
Chills raced up her arms and legs at the deadly calm voice that came from this outlaw biker. When Hanson stumbled away and back into the manager’s office, Steel turned back around to face her. His leather vest showed a patch of his biker club, and a small patch that said 1%er. She didn’t know what that meant, didn’t plan on asking either. This man scared her, but there was also a part of her that was aroused that he had stood up for her, pushed Hanson away as if he were nothing more than a nuisance, and now stared at her with this possessive gleam in his eyes.
“He bother you like that often?”
She licked her lips and glanced away. “It’s okay. He’s harmless for the most part.” She looked at him again. “Thank you for that, by the way. You didn’t have to step up and help.”
He picked up the cases of beer he had set aside to help her and then put them on the conveyer belt. He also grabbed the two bottles of whiskey and set them beside the beer. She was nervous as she checked him out, because she could feel his gaze on her, intent and strong, and it had her hands shaking. Once he paid, and she had the items bagged, she glanced at him again, saw the way his dark eyes were still trained on her, and didn’t understand what it was about this man that had her so on edge. It wasn’t because he was violent and dangerous, or that he was associated with the biker gang. It was simply him, and that scared the shit out of her.
He grabbed a slip of paper off the register, took the pen on the counter, and jotted something down. He handed her the paper, and she stared a down at it. “If that little fucker bothers you again, you call me, okay?”
She stared at him and then looked back at the number he had written down. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond. So she just nodded and watched as he gave a deep gruff as if he liked her response and then left.
Amy breathed heavily as she stared up at Joker. He was so close to her, keeping his body right in front of her and blocking any escape, if she had planned to do that. The wall was cold behind her, and she placed her hands flat on wallpaper, feeling her heart race and her nerves go on high alert.
“We aren’t going to talk about any of that, Amy,” he leaned in closer. “We aren’t going to bring up that motherfucker’s name ever again, because he is dead, literally and figuratively. You understand?”
She was scared of Joker, of the man he had become, even though she knew he’d never hurt her. He was just menacing, so big and strong, watching her like he wanted to devour her. He also had no problem in killing anyone that stood in his way, or as it turned out, had hurt her. A part of her should have been disgusted and horrified that he had murdered her dad, but the truth was that she wasn’t. Amy actually felt this intense relief fill her, felt like he had just done something for her that showed how much he loved her. And Amy loved him, God, did she love him, but she also thought she could never be what he needed or wanted.
His scent was strong, powerful, and faintly hinted at his wild essence and the aroma of motor oil. She loved the combination and actually felt her eyelids flutter as if they wanted to close on their own.
“You are scared of me.” He didn’t phrase it like a question.
“I am,” she said on a breath, not knowing why she had admitted that.
“I’d never hurt you.”
“I know.” And she did, with everything inside of her.
“I’m a dangerous man, Amy, but with you I feel this lightness inside, a calm and ease that makes me want to just hold you and protect you from this fucked up world.”