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Dots blink and disappear as he responds, but nearly a half hour goes by before I get a response. I use the time to throw as much of Frankie’s stuff into a couple duffel bags I’ll be able to sling over each shoulder while she rides behind me on the bike. She’s got a car, but we’ll be leaving it here for several reasons. First, it’s too easy for that shitbag Mark to track her with it. Second, from here on out, where she goes, I go. And after months in a concrete cage at the mercy of the Department of Corrections, I’m not too keen on locking myself into an unwieldy metal cage.
Fuck you, motherfucker. I’m going to kick your ass. Get the fuck to the clubhouse. Now.
Well, that sure wasn’t a long message for how long he seemed to be working on it. I swallow a sigh at the battle I know is ahead of me. Until now, I’ve done my best to ignore Francesca's sweet sleepy snores from under the thin blanket on her bed while she naps. But now, it’s time to go. We’ve already been here later than I wanted. Every additional minute we’re here is time we risk being seen together by her ex.
The lazy fuck seems to sleep in or be busy every morning, but I’ve caught him sniffing around her apartment during the day while she’s at work. I need to get her dressed and out of here before he shows up and figures out he can find her by following me.
“Cuteness, it’s time to go. I packed for you, so you could sleep. But unless you want me to get you dressed, you need to wake up and do it yourself.” I’m quiet in hopes of not scaring her for a second time in one day.
Her eyes blink sleepily up at me, no fear in them, and a drowsy smile sends surprised lust bolting through me. For twenty-eight years, I’ve walked this earth without succumbing to the urge to fuck. It was a good run, I guess. Over now. I need this woman beneath me, as soon as I can convince her to be there. Or over me. Fuck, I’m not picky.
It’s time this virgin feels what it’s like to do more than listen. Time this virgin gets to fuck.
Chapter
Seven
FRANKIE
“Piece of shit motherfucker!”
The furious shout from deep inside the house startles me, and I step behind Arlo instinctively. His hand goes up in a blur, so fast I nearly miss the way he catches the fist flying at his face and pushes the man attached to it backward through the doorway of the enormous house he’s brought me to.
“You nearly hit her. I will let you punch me because I deserve your anger, but you will wait until she is safely inside. Clear?” Arlo sounds cold. Furious. It’s so different from the way he’s spoken to me all day, and I can’t suppress the shiver that races down my spine.
Since the moment I found him in my kitchen making me breakfast, I’ve assumed that he’s a gentle giant. There’s nothing gentle about the way he shoves forward through the door into a throng of pissed off looking other giants. I can’t even tell which one shouted. There are too many angry faces to choose from. For the first time since Arlo spoke Hyram’s name, I’m starting to think my brother may have bitten off more than I can chew.
“I didn’t see her,” the punching man says. I hear the remorse in his voice, and the stricken look on his face is obvious.
“Jax, you asshole. Go sit down. I swear you’re like a freaking toddler sometimes. Arlo’s brought a girl home. From jail. You need to chill out and find out what’s going on and not throw a hissy fit with your fists.” A curvy blonde with a hand necklace grabs the angry giant by his leather cut and pulls at him.
Under normal circumstances, her bruises would terrify me and I’d worry about his reaction, but watching the scary monster turn into a snarling kitten as soon as she touches him calms me down. He’s still glaring at my protector as if he wants to kill him, though. But when he picks up the girl and nuzzles his face into her neck, biting at the cord of tendon above her collarbone until she moans and curls into him, I realize she wants whatever violence he inflicts.
I won’t yuck anyone’s yum, but I really hope Arlo’s not into that kind of painful stuff. After this morning, I have no illusions about what he intends to do to me. I just really hope he doesn’t expect me to want to be roughed up during it.
“Come over here and have a seat,” a gorgeous woman with long dark hair offers, the silence before and after her request nearly choking me with the testosterone. There’s a quiet confidence to her that cuts through the overdose levels of masculine energy drowning me.
“They’ll be fighting this out for a while. Superhero’s gonna bust his knuckles open for sure,” a soft voice, too deep to be a woman’s, says, catching my attention. I look over at the loveseat next to the couch the pretty woman beckoned me to. A slender guy is wrapped around a stunning woman, holding her tight as her big doe eyes stare at the men.
“Shut up, Grey. He will not. Konnie’s not gonna hit ‘Lo.” The girl sounds a half breath away from a panic attack, and I find myself moving closer to where the two are seated.
“He might,” Grey whispers. He’s as scared as she is, and though I have no clue who either of them are, who any of these people are, the maternal hormones from this pregnancy send me tipping forward from the sofa to my knees in front of them.
“Hey,” I murmur softly. “Even if that guy does hit Arlo, he’ll be okay. Look at him, he’s a practical goliath. But he’s gentle, okay? He won’t hurt anyone. It’s going to be okay.”
I don’t even know where this confidence in Arlo James is coming from. Half the time since I met him, I’ve been wet-my-pants scared of the guy myself. And yet, when push comes to shove, I know he won’t hurt any of the people here. Deep inside me, where the gut instincts that warned me away from Mark despite my desperation to be loved reside, I know Arlo James is a safe man.
The girl reaches out a hand to me and tugs me to squish onto the loveseat with the two of them.
“That’s a baby in your stomach,” the guy says, awe in his voice. I wonder how he guessed then realize I’ve been cradling the round bump of my belly and rubbing slow circles to soothe the little one inside. He or she has been kicking like crazy ever since Arlo woke me up to bring me here.
“Um, yes. I’m about five months along,” I admit. We hadn’t known about the baby when Hyram found out about the abuse Mark had been putting me, through. It still feels weird admitting I’m pregnant when my brother hasn’t gotten to see my baby bump. To say nothing of the weirdness at knowing the baby’s father is the worst sort of human on earth. The kind who would sell his own girlfriend and unborn child if he can manage to capture her.
Shivers rattle through me, and real fear chips away at my calm. The overdose of male aggression flooding the room swells until I feel as if I’m choking, drowning in the violence that feels like a bubble about to pop and spill over all of us.
“I think… I think I…” Unsure what I’m even trying to say, my eyes blink closed, and the room with all its stress fades away.
Chapter
