I heard her turn and opened my eyes, but for a second I couldn’t say anything. This is why I was letting the club help: I was crazy about this girl.
“We’re going to fix this,” I told her. “We’ll make sure they don’t come after you again. But for tonight, we need to keep you safe.” I looked over my shoulder at the clubhouse. “I was going to say you could crash in one of the spare rooms, but...it gets quiet here at night, when there’s not a party on. And I don’t want you here alone.”
When I looked back at her, she was staring right into my eyes. We both knew what I was going to say next.
“You’re sleeping at my place tonight,” I told her.
21
Annabelle
To get to Carrick’s place, we cut through the center of town. As we cruised up to the intersection on Main Street, I watched the sunset turn the lake orange and gold. It was a beautiful place. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the Hell’s Princes being here. They were criminals, right? And I associated criminals with grimy cities. This place was as small town as it got.
The light went red ahead of us and Carrick slowed to a stop. As cars pulled up alongside us, I saw the drivers turn to look at us. Most quickly looked away. Some gave a quick nod of respect.
“Things work different, out here.” The deep, Irish rasp startled me. Carrick had twisted in the saddle to look at me. He jerked his head towards the nearby Sheriff’s office. “The cops don’t have the manpower to look after things. So we do.”
A guy in a sheriff’s uniform was sipping coffee in the parking lot, watching the sunset. He nodded at Carrick, who nodded back. I realized it was the same guy we’d seem when we first rode into town. “Sheriff Harris is a friend,” Carrick told me. He lowered his voice. “Turns a blind eye to most of what we do. In return, we make sure the streets stay clean. No hard drugs in town, no trouble.”#p#分页标题#e#
I looked again at the drivers around us. The Hell’s Princes, I realized, were like a band of rowdy swordsmen who slayed the local dragons and protected the town. People didn’t necessarily like them. But they needed them.
Then the light changed and we roared off, the sudden acceleration making me clutch his waist tight.
Carrick’s house was a small, one-storey place on a big lot: one of those quirks of town planning where there isn’t quite room to fit two houses but there’s way too much space for one. Most people would have built onto the house, or put up a garage or a deck or something, but Carrick had left the empty land as knee-high grass, as if he wanted space between him and his neighbors.
Inside, there was just one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and bathroom and a living room that was barely big enough for a couch and a TV. The place didn’t seem big enough to contain a man like Carrick. He glanced around sullenly. “Don’t entertain much,” he muttered by way of explanation. Then he flexed his left shoulder and winced.
That reminded me of my plan. “Sit down,” I said. “I’m going to take care of your shoulders.”
He turned and stared at me. “What?”
I showed him the little bottle of almond oil. “I’m going to massage you.”
He made a face as if I’d suggested painting his toenails. “I don’t need that.”
“The hell you don’t. I’ve felt your shoulders: they’re like concrete. Sit down.”
He glared at me and I could see it in his eyes: the frustration mixed with barely-contained lust. I swallowed.
“Please,” I said. “You’ve done so much for me. Let me do this one thing for you.”
He kept glaring, the broad slabs of his pecs rising and falling under his white t-shirt as he drew in deep, slow breaths. I felt the mood shift. What the hell are you doing, his eyes asked.
I swallowed again and looked at him defiantly. It’s just a massage.
He took off his cut and laid it carefully over the back of the couch. Then he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and peeled it off. I stared at the tan ridges of his abs: God, every part of him was hard, chiseled by a hundred bar room brawls and a thousand hours twisting and leaning in the saddle.
And sex. Don’t forget that. I could imagine him using all that coiled power in his midsection to lunge and thrust, to control my thrashing body. I followed the hem of the t-shirt as it rose over his chest. The cotton had to stretch almost to breaking point to clear his powerful shoulders.
I looked up and found his eyes challenging me. And that’s when I realized what was going on in his head. He thought this something else. He thought this was me trying to seduce him, to drive him beyond the point of control.