Chapter Two
Deacon watched Alex storm from his office and cursed.
The impact of seeing her again shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She looked just the same. Beautiful. Fucking untouchable.
But as soon as he’d laid eyes on her, those feelings, the ones he’d managed to keep on lockdown, had reared up and sucker punched him in the gut. Along with all the frustration, anger, and disappointment he’d felt waking in that bed alone all those months ago. He’d nearly given in to it. Had been so close to kissing that smart mouth, kissing that maddening attitude right out of her, and forcing her to see exactly what she did to him.
And he would have ruined everything.
Alex acted tough, but she was fractured, brittle. One wrong move, and she’d fall to pieces. Crumble right through his fingers. She’d become so used to pushing everyone away, it was now second nature. She had the don’t-mess-with-me attitude, the tattoos. All designed to keep people at arm’s length. But he’d tasted the soft, vulnerable woman beneath. And he wouldn’t stop till he had more.
Being shipped from one foster family to the next had built that impenetrable wall she hid behind, and it was time to knock it down.
That night with her six months ago, he’d gotten a glimpse of the real Alex again. No way was he letting her go a second time. She’d been there for him after his father died. They’d fallen into bed together, and she’d shown him the beauty that lay beneath the tough exterior, the girl he remembered.
Then he’d woken up to an empty bed. She’d run scared.
He’d tried patient, and he wasn’t a patient man. She’d ignored his calls. Avoided him. It didn’t matter what he did or said. She wouldn’t let him in. That would mean accepting the truth, accepting the way she felt about him, allowing herself to believe that he could actually have feelings for her. She wouldn’t willingly expose herself to that kind of pain and heartbreak.
Not again. Not after the way he’d screwed up last time.
Forcing her to confront those feelings now was a risk, but one he had to take. He knew her well enough to know if he tried to sit her down, tell her how he felt about her—she’d run scared. There was no doubt in his mind. And he’d lose her for good.
That couldn’t happen.
He was desperate. He was also out of options. If she couldn’t figure it out for herself, it was time to clue her in.
She belonged to him. They belonged together.
He’d known she’d come to him all guns blazing when she got his letter, had banked on it. He stood and slipped on his jacket, taking his time going after her. She wasn’t going anywhere.
West Restoration, the garage Alex was trying to save—the one he had no intention of selling—was located on Axle Alley. A street in an industrial area, just out of the city, lined with businesses that catered to anything with an engine. In their teens, the local boys had dubbed Alex and Deacon’s sisters the Axle Alley Vipers. All three were beautiful, tough in their own way, and if you tried to get too close, tried to touch, they would take a bite out of you.
Jesus. Nothing had changed.
When he got to the parking garage below his building, he saw Martin had done his job. Deacon’s car was parked behind Alex’s metallic-purple Viper, caging her in.
Her choice of car said more than he thought she realized. Playing up to that moniker, to what it meant, was just another way to keep everyone at a distance, to protect herself.
She stood against the driver’s door, arms crossed, more pissed than he’d ever seen her. Her long, shiny brown hair was pulled up in a messy bun that was sexy as hell on her, and those dark, exotic eyes had landed and stayed on him as soon as the elevator doors had opened and he’d stepped out.
His cock twitched under that intense stare.
He allowed his gaze to travel over her. Did she have any idea how stunning she was? The woman could wear a potato sack and still make his dick hard. The intricate rose tattoo decorating the upper half of her right arm drew his eye. It covered a jagged scar you could only see under a certain light, and it moved as she shoved her hands in her pockets, flexing her finely honed bicep. “This your doing?” she asked.
He kept on walking toward her. She tensed as he came closer, but he didn’t stop until he was close enough to smell her vanilla scent, hear her subtle exhale as he leaned in. “You were in my parking spot.”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “Bullshit. What about the other ten free spots?”
He shrugged. “I like this one.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “If you’re so damned attached to this one, let me out and you can have it back.”