Risky and Wild(15)

“You're welcome,” I tell him as he takes a sip that's really more like a gulp. Half the mug is gone. I wonder if that's how he got his nickname? I stare at the guy, still straddling his bike, his arms hairy and covered in freckles. He shouldn't be intimidating with that shock of red hair on his head, but damn he's huge and wide as a truck. I can see why Royal wanted him to come play bodyguard for me.

Mug sniffles and finishes off the coffee.

“If you got anymore of that, I'll take it. Pres says he's gonna be late.”

“Uh, sure,” I say, taking the cup in my hand as I size this guy up. I'd like to get some more information about this group, Mile Wide. I mean, if my life is in danger, I have a right to know, don't I? A lot of men think of themselves as airtight, locked up, loyal. During my time in law school and politics, I've learned that if they have a dick, they have a lock that can be picked. It's just a matter of figuring out how to go about it. “So, are there still members of Mile Wide in town?” I ask casually.

Mug snorts and runs his hand across his mouth.

“For their sake, I sure as hell hope not.”

“Their,” I pause as I search for the right word, “cuts said they were from Ukiah. Why would they come all the way up here to cause trouble? A three hour drive just to hijack little old me?” I laugh, but Mug isn't smiling. Instead, he leans back and tucks his fingers in the pockets of his jeans.

“You should probably wait for Royal inside,” he tells me, and I feel my lips purse a little. “It's gonna be a while 'fore he gets here.” Taking a deep breath, I reach up and squeeze Mug's hairy shoulder like I'm grateful for his help. Well, okay, so maybe it's a little nice to know he's out here, but I still don't see why Royal thinks it's necessary. The guys involved in the heist are … well, I can't really think about that right now. Especially not about the one that didn't die in the shoot-out.

I shiver.

“I'll bring your coffee right out,” I say as sweetly as I can. Mug is finally looking at me, staring at my hand on his arm like he's surprised to find it there. And he appreciated the offer of coffee in the first place, I could tell. He might be an easy nut to crack.

I head inside, refill his cup, and head right back out.

“I'm about to cook dinner if you're hungry?” I raise a brow as he downs that cup of coffee the same way he did the first. Two drinks and done. He passes it back over to me, lifting his shades off his face. “I figure you're just as likely to be able to protect me from inside the house as well as out? The fog's rolling in anyway. I wouldn't want you to freeze to death.”

I keep smiling as I turn away and head across the grass to the front door.

A few seconds later, Mug gets off his bike and follows me in.



Royal's right; he doesn't show up until late.

By the time he knocks at the door, Mug is sitting on my couch with yet another cup of coffee, completely zoned in on some action flick. The second he hears the truck though, he's up and at the peephole with stiff shoulders and fingers diving beneath his cut. I'm assuming there's a gun under there, but I didn't bother to ask. No, I used our dinner conversation for more useful questions. Poor Mug. As far as locks go, he was an easy one to pick.

“Bloody hell,” Royal snarls when Mug unlocks the door and lets his President shove his way in. “The fuck are you doing in here? Didn't I tell you to stay outside?”

“Not specifically,” Mug says, and Royal raises his dark brows. I don't think the guy's being sarcastic. Honestly—and I feel terrible for saying this—but I think Mug is kind of … dumb? Royal stares at him for a long second before looking up at me. I can feel my throat catch and my heart start to flutter. The second our eyes meet, my brain starts to fog up and my body goes into overdrive mode. I wonder if it's the same for him? “I couldn't very well ignore a dinner invitation, now could I?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Royal says with a slight tilt of his head towards the door. Mug rushes to obey, heading outside and slamming the door behind him. Royal locks it and then turns back to me as I set aside the salad bowl I was drying and turn off the TV with the remote. “You invited Mug in for dinner? Should I be jealous? What else did you two do in here?” he adds with a glance at the rumpled couch.

I smile, the expression taking over my lips before I can compose myself and start asking hard questions. See, that's the way with this guy. He gets me every time. I can't figure out if it's his eyes, those two deep, dark pools, like the eyes of his wolves, wild and feral. Or maybe it's the dark hair that's always just this side of mussed. No, I think it might be the muscles I can see through his t-shirt, the way his boots sound as he moves across the floor towards me.