Throttle's Seduction(Insurgents MC Romance Book 7)(43)

       
           



       

"A laptop." Her face held hope.

"No. I didn't see it. I can't believe someone would take it."

Her hope shattered, and she tried not to lose it in front of her  professors. "I don't think someone would do that either, but it's gone  and I can't find it." Her voice hitched.

"Check lost and found. If it's not there, go over to security to file a  report. I'm sure it'll turn up. Did you back up all your work?" Dr.  Redman asked.

She nodded, eager to get away before she broke down and cried like a  baby. "Thanks for the advice." She stumbled away, but Dr. Donsky grabbed  her elbow.

When she flashed him a confused, pissed look, he quickly said, "I thought you were going to fall. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," she mumbled. "I have to go." She hurried out of the building and made her way to lost and found.

Twenty minutes later, she stormed to her bike, tears threatening to  spill down her face. No one had turned in her laptop; she knew they  wouldn't. Someone probably found it and kept it. Fuck! This sucks! She  tried so hard to do everything right, but life just kept kicking her in  the gut. Throwing her tote in the saddlebags, she jumped on her bike and  sped away to the nearest grocery store for a junk food run. She needed  macaroni and cheese, chocolate cupcakes with thick dark chocolate  frosting, a bag of spicy nacho cheese chips, and a two-liter bottle of  regular-not diet-Coke. That should make her feel a little bit better.  She swung her bike into the store's parking lot and went in to execute  her plan.

As she sat on her couch, crunching on chips and slugging Coke down her throat, her phone vibrated. She picked it up.

Throttle: Hey, babe. U wanna hang out? Ribs?

Kimber: Sorry. Not 2nite. Had a shitty day.

Throttle: I'll come over. I can pick up something.

Blowing out a long breath, she bit down on another chip, wiping the fake  cheese powder on her napkin. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but  she wanted to be alone. She wasn't in the mood to play girlfriend or  lover. She was fucking pissed and upset about her computer, and the only  thing she wanted to spend time with was her stash of junk food.

Kimber: Don't B mad. Not in the mood. Want 2 B alone.

Throttle: I'm coming over.

She threw the remote across the table. He's so fucking exasperating!

Kimber: Do u ever take no for an answer?

Throttle: No. What happened today?

Kimber: Lost my laptop. Saved up to buy it. Very upset.

Throttle: Fuck. I'll see u in 30 minutes.

Kimber: It's ok. I won't be good company.

He didn't reply, and she knew he was going to come by. Why couldn't he  understand that she wanted to wallow in self-pity, watch a brainless  show, and eat her stash? If he thinks I'm going to be fucked out of my  mood, he's damn wrong. He wants to come, fine, but he better not expect  me to play the goddamned hostess. She reached over, grabbed the remote,  and stared at the TV screen.

As she watched a hokey love story, a noise outside caught her attention.  She lowered the volume on the TV and turned her head toward the window  on the side of her house. There it was again, like something scratching  on the wood. And again. That time, it was like something dragging across  her screen. Fuck! It sounds like someone is trying to open my window.  Her adrenaline spiked and her knees went weak as she slowly inched her  way to the front door. When she spotted Riley's cherry-red truck, her  hand flew to her mouth, suppressing a scream. She hadn't heard from him  for a couple weeks, so she'd figured he'd finally given up.

Slowly pulling the drapes closed on her living room window, she tiptoed  over to the window where she'd heard the noise and stood to the side,  looking through the small sliver in the blinds. She discerned a black  hat, and knew for sure it was Riley who was trying to break into her  house. Cursing herself for forgetting to set the alarm, she rushed over  to the alarm box and, with shaking fingers, plugged in the code.  Nothing. She had the code wrong. She racked her brain to remember what  it was, but she couldn't. I better call the police. As she picked up the  phone, she heard the low rumble of Throttle's Harley. Relief flooded  over her, and she breathed again.

From the corner of the curtain, she watched his bike glide to the curb  before he leapt off his bike and ran to the side of her house. She flung  open the front door and stepped out on her porch. Loud yelling and  cussing accompanied loud thuds against her siding. She jumped off the  porch and came around the corner; a red-faced Riley sputtered and gasped  for air while pinned against the wall by Throttle, who had his hands  around his neck.                       
       
           



       

"Throttle, stop!" She rushed over to him and grabbed his arm, trying in vain to pull him off Riley. "You're going to kill him."

"That's my fuckin' intention." He squeezed harder as Riley unsuccessfully attempted to push him away.

"Please, Throttle. Stop." Her voice hitched, and he looked at her before  finally pulling his hands away. Riley rubbed his neck as he inhaled  large gulps of air, his face beginning to return to its normal color.

Inches from the cowboy's face, Throttle said, "I fuckin' caught you peeking in my woman's windows, asshole."

"I was just trying-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Throttle punched Riley in the face.

Kimber crossed her arms. "I'll call the police."

"I don't need any fuckin' badges around. I'll take care of this in my own way." He slammed the cowboy against the house again.

"I didn't mean any harm. I was only seeing if you were home. I was in  the neighborhood-my good friend lives a few blocks from here-and I  wanted to say hi. I didn't mean to scare you, Kimber. Honest. I swear on  the Bible and my grandmother's grave that I didn't mean any harm. I  just wanted to see if there was any hope we could have another try at  dating."

When he said "dating," Throttle banged him against the house again. Then  in a low, cruel voice, he said, "Kimber's my woman. You stay the fuck  away from her. I don't want anyone messing with her. I don't want you to  look at her, talk to her, or even fucking dream about her." He slammed  him again. "‘Cause if you do, you're dead. You won't know where I'll be  or when I'll come, but I will come for you. Do you get my drift?"  Another slam against the wall.

Riley bobbed his head up and down.

Throttle pushed him to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. "Get  the fuck outta here before I change my mind and get rid of you right  now."

Riley stumbled to his feet and, with his hand over his stomach,  staggered to his truck. Climbing in quickly, he drove away. Throttle  watched him leave, then turned to Kimber. "You okay, babe?"

Clutching at her arm, she said in a voice choked with tears, "No." Then  the tears she had fought for so long broke through and flowed down her  face. Since her dad had died, she'd tried to be brave, tough, and let  life slide off her back, but in that one moment everything caught up to  her. Even though she hated crying in front of people-especially men-she  sobbed unabashedly. Throttle pulled her to him and looped his arms  around her, and she clung to him, never wanting to let go.

He scooped her up and carried her into the house, placing her down on  the couch with him. He held her close while she let out all the anger  about her father dying too young, her ex beating her, her loneliness,  her constant struggle to pay the bills, her fear that the Lingerie  Bandit has focused on her, and the loss of her laptop-the catalyst.  Throttle didn't placate her with meaningless words; rather, he held her  and let her cry.

When she was spent, he pushed back a little and tilted her chin up,  showering kisses on her damp cheeks. "Feel better?" he whispered as he  brushed his lips across hers.

She nodded and he reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table. He  pulled out some and handed them to her. "Blow," he said as he swept  away the black tendrils clinging to her cheeks. A few minutes later, she  looked at him, her eyelids swollen, her nose red, and she kissed him  gently on his lips. "Thanks for that."

He smiled. "Hey, you up for shopping?"

"Shopping? For what?" Her voice sounded nasally.

"A laptop."

She groaned. "I told you I can't afford one."

"I can. Come on." He put a finger against her lips when she started to  protest. "I'm not gonna take no for an answer. I want to do this, so  let's get going, woman."

She smiled, her heart bursting. Standing up, she went to the mirror in  her hallway, trying to fix her hair and look somewhat decent as she  reapplied her lipstick. "You believed Riley's story, didn't you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because if you didn't, he'd be six feet under somewhere."