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“I think, Foster, you’re trespassing on my date,” an amused voice spoke from beside them.
What the fuck?
Matt knew that voice. He turned his head slowly while still keeping his palms firmly on Grace’s ass.
Sure enough, there stood Troy deLamar—the leader of the Flaming Bricks motorcycle gang. Not affiliated with any motorcycle club, they were just a group of bikers with no set rules. They had their compound outside of Misty Grove, yet they claimed to be a part of Matt’s small town. They had no fixed structure. No President or VP, but he knew Troy ran that outfit. Just as Matt knew the biker had deep connections with the Mexican cartels and the Dixie Mafia. The man had also saved his life once upon a time. That knowledge burned through him right then.
Troy eyed Grace’s skirt. “Now would be a good time to remove your hands from her ass.”
“And if I don’t?” Matt challenged.
The other man narrowed his eyes. “Are we forgetting you owe me, Foster?”
“Fantastic,” Grace muttered, shoving so hard against him, he didn’t have a choice but to let her go without leaving marks on her skin. “Last I checked, I wasn’t Matt’s to bargain with,” she added, walking up to the tall, blond, brawny biker even as Matt had the overwhelming desire to haul her back.
“I didn’t think you were his, darlin’,” Troy drawled, pulling Grace close and kissing her on the cheek. “But I’m not above using the marker he owes me to get what I want.”
Matt bristled at the claim the biker was putting on Grace, and the only reason he hadn’t pulled out his piece and blown the man’s brains out was because a) like the man said, Matt owed him his life, b) Grace was not exactly melting into Troy’s arms, and c) he actually liked the guy—present moment excluded.
But he knew Troy enough to know that he had a way with women. Matt regretted introducing the biker to Grace, but that was part of her cover. Eyeing them both at the moment, he realized something was up. She’d been tight-lipped about what she needed from Troy, and Matt acted as the bridge to appease the powers that be at the DEA to leave him alone after what had gone down with the fabricated biker war.
“I didn’t think you went for sloppy seconds, Troy.” The words were out before Matt could stop himself. A wounded gasp followed by a stinging slap against his cheek told him he’d gone too far. Grace was up in his face, her eyes shooting sparks of anger, hurt, and disappointment at him.
“I’ll pretend you didn’t mean that,” she said with choked anger. “But you just don’t have a very good track record with me, do you, Matthew Foster? You want to fuck me, but you don’t respect me. You’ve proven to me time and again what exactly you think of me, and I’m so sick and tired of making excuses for how you treat me because of what happened in Mexico. I’m done.” She shook her head in regret. “So done. You won’t be seeing me again, and do me a favor as well.” She inhaled deeply. “Just stay away from me.”
With those biting words, she turned her back on him with determined finality. Matt’s chest cracked with physical pain. It hurt to fucking breathe.
“Don’t worry, Gracie, I respect you,” Troy said, smirking at Matt as he ushered Grace away from him and led her back to the bar. He wanted to kill the motherfucker.
What do you expect, asshole? You practically sent her running into another man’s arms.
Christ,he fucked that up, but exactly what did he fuck up? There was nothing between him and Grace. And after this scene? He had made certain there never, ever would be.
“You’re just going to let Troy walk out with your girl?” Axe’s censuring voice said from behind him.
“She was never my girl.”
“Boss, you know I’m on your side and all, but this time you need to stop with the self-sabotage and open your eyes to what’s right in front of you.”
“She’s made her choice.”
“No, you forced her hand,” Axe said. “I’ve never seen you this screwed up over a woman.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
His mechanic shook his head and clapped a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “When you’re ready to pull your head outta your ass, you’ll see things clearly. Come on. I’ll get you another beer.”
CHAPTER TWO
Matt
“Get up.”
Matt blinked open one eye, cursing at the glare of the morning sun streaming from the open blinds. Little men hammering in his head only aggravated this sudden wakeup call. His mouth was cottony and he was damned thirsty. He swore as a face emerged from the starburst of sunshine.
“What the fuck, Millie!” he groaned. Why the hell did he drink too much last night? No woman was worth the torture of a hangover from hell. Damn Axe for bringing out the bourbon.
A pillow landed on his crotch. Shit, he forgot he was buck naked. Not that he thought anything would faze the indomitable owner of the diner across the street, but he’d rather be seen nude on his terms.
