She slowly nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t want that. I don’t want any more violence. I just want to move on, and leave this all behind me.”
Christ, he was going to make that punk pay with a lot of blood. “I know, darling, but some things need to be done, yeah?”
She didn’t respond for several seconds, but finally she closed her eyes and nodded. “I guess, and even though I don’t know if I killed him back there, having more violence thrown around is not what I want. I just want to move on and forget.”
“Adrianna, we both know that some things can’t be forgotten.” Her lashes were so long, and the crescent shape of them looked so dark against her peach colored skin. He lowered his gaze to her lips, saw the plump, red flesh, and this need to kiss her slammed into him. It was wrong, so fucking wrong, but he couldn’t push the desire to comfort her in a physical way out of his mind. She slowly opened her eyes again, and the small sound that escaped her told Malice that he wasn’t hiding his feelings at all. He saw her eyes widen slightly, and even though she was definitely surprised that he was still so close, and probably by the fierce expression on his face she didn’t push him away. He leaned in slightly, but before he could follow through with what he really wanted to fucking do, there was a knock on the door. He pulled back just as the person on the other side opened it.
“Malice?”
He tuned and stared at Rock. The other biker was a smart bastard. He was standing by the doorway, and glanced between them. Yeah, Rock picked up on the vibe that was clearly still bouncing between him and Adrianna, and that was clear by the way he cocked an eyebrow.
“What’s up, Rock?” Malice said and then cleared his throat.
“Marx wants to know what the game plan is.”
Malice looked at the clock on the bedside table. Shit, they had been in here for almost twenty minutes. He hadn’t even realized it had been that long. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Rock nodded and didn’t loiter around. Once the door was shut once more he turned and looked at her. “Adrianna, who is he, and where can we find him?” Enough of him and his fucked-up arousal taking over
“I don’t want any more violence—”
“Men like him need to know that there are consequences to their actions, and it is men like me that will show them what those consequences are.” Malice was feeling his anger build once more, and his arousal took a backseat. If the coward bastard Phillip had done something like this to an old lady or someone connected with the MC shit would have gotten ugly already. It wasn’t that the MC didn’t help people in need, because they did. They might have the reputation as nothing but bastards and trouble, but they didn’t just turn their backs on women that were hurt. They might deal with prostitutes, and that was their main source of income, but they also took in hurt women. The safe house they built between Steel Corner and River Run was proof of that.
“But you don’t know me, Malice.”
Hearing her say his name twisted his gut. “I don’t have to know you to see that you’re hurt on more than just a physical level.” He reached out and cupped the side of her face. Fuck, what the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like some pussy-whipped schoolboy touching her and wanting to avenge her. Shit, they had met only a short while ago, but he always followed his gut on someone, and that was why he wasn’t fighting how he felt for Adrianna very hard. It wasn’t like him at all to want more from a woman than for her to just warm his bed, and he should back the fuck off, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. After he and Molly split he’d thought she was the only one he could ever have feelings for. He may not be in love with her anymore, but he did love her because he was the mother of his son. But staring at Adrianna, seeing her frightened and hurt, but trying to be so strong had his cold heart warming. She was very different from Molly, and not just in the looks department. Where Molly had always been this stubborn thing Adrianna had this vulnerability to her, one that called to the male part of him that wanted to take care of her. She was young, probably almost half his forty years in age, but that didn’t matter. All he saw was this woman who needed his help Yeah, he wanted her in a bad fucking way, and one that was wrong, too. She was hurt, scared, and wanted to escape. Wanting and getting were two different things, and he wasn’t going to tread that line. Not with her.
She stared at him for several seconds, and although she wasn’t saying anything he could see her mind working. “Phillip Montrose.” She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. “He lives over in the bungalow cabins off of Winchester and Broadman.” When she opened her eyes there was this stark fear that had nothing to do with what had happened to her. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?” She said that last part softly.