Something about her voice sounded off . . . Wait.
“What do you think we have here?” I asked, frowning.
She shrugged, but I caught the hurt look on her face. Fuck. Hadn’t seen that coming. Carlie was a nice girl but no fucking way I planned to get involved with her.
“It’s just sex, babe,” I told her. “You know that, right?”
She didn’t look at me. Double fuck. Okay, probably shouldn’t hit that again, not if she was going to get all clingy and shit. Not that it was my problem if she did, but Deep was into her and I didn’t need complications like this in my life. Hopefully she’d catch the hint. I threw my shit together as she dug around for her purse. The woman wasn’t stupid—less than a minute later and she was ready to go.
“You want me to call you?” she asked as I opened the door for her. I shrugged.
“No, I’ll probably be busy. Don’t wait on me, okay?”
“I hear you,” she said softly, then started down the stairs, moving fast to get away from me. I closed the door behind me and locked the dead bolt, wondering how I could be so goddamned stupid. She was already out in the alley as I reached the bottom and stepped outside.
Out in the alley talking to someone.
Joe Collins.
Holy motherfucking, cocksucking shit.
Joe Collins was coming out of Becca’s building. Something dark and hateful boiled through me and I considered whether I had enough time to kill him and dump the body before meeting up with Picnic Hayes.
Then reality caught up with me and I had to bite back a humorless laugh. Instant karma, right?
Carlie got the shaft and apparently so did Becca. Just not from me.
—
Half an hour later I was just shy of the I-90 turnoff when I saw a car pulled off on the side of the road, emergency lights flashing. That was Becca’s little Subaru. Fucking perfect, because I didn’t have time for this and I really didn’t want to talk to her—not after watching that asshole leaving her place.
When I’d seen them together at the bar last night I’d nearly lost my shit. Nothing less than instant hatred toward the bastard holding her. For years now I’d been keeping an eye on Becca, my club brothers standing in for me when I wasn’t around. So far as I knew, she hadn’t really dated anyone seriously. This one, though . . . I’d asked around, and apparently Collins was a decent guy who could hold his own. Exactly the kind of man she should probably be with, which made me hate him even more. Cocksucker.
The whole thing had messed with me, especially after seeing her rolling around with Blake on the roof.
Not that I took the apartment to be close to her. Wasn’t a factor. Sure, there were other places to rent. Cheaper places. Nicer. But the downtown location was perfect, close to all the . . . well, Callup didn’t have anything downtown. Fuck. Didn’t know what I was hoping to accomplish here—she was beyond off-limits. But then I’d seen her last night and the limits shifted . . .
Now here she was, stuck on the side of the road.
I really, really didn’t want to see her. Didn’t want to see her pretty tits, which looked exceptionally nice this morning, all pushed up with her arms crossed under them. Had no interest in her hair, or how it would look wrapped around my cock. Speaking of things that should’ve been wrapped around my cock, her lips were nice and puffy.
Bruised from sucking Collins’ dick last night?
“What the fuck happened here?” I growled, stepping out of my truck. At least she’d found a decent pullout, one of those wide spaces overlooking the river, shaded by the cottonwoods.
“It made a clanking noise and stopped running,” Becca said, eyes darting toward me. “Earl will help me fix it—he always does . . . Is there any chance you could call him for me up at the gas station?”
Yeah. I’d get right on that.
“Grab your shit and get into the truck,” I told her, wondering when I’d turned into such a fucking masochist. “Where were you going?”
“Coeur d’Alene,” she replied, looking nervous as hell. “I don’t want to bother you. I can just wait here—”
“I don’t have time to fuck around. Just get in the truck,” I told her. She flinched at my tone. Watch your mouth, asshole. Wished she wouldn’t look at me like a goddamn ax murderer. Of course, that might not be entirely off base given my current mission—God only knew what Hayes needed from me . . . I frowned at the thought, and she made a startled little squeaking noise.
“Have I ever hurt you?” I asked her, abruptly. “Aside from that one night, have I ever done a goddamned thing to make you think I would even dream of hurting you?”
Becca shook her head quickly.
“No.”
“Then stop looking at me like I’m a serial killer and get in the fucking truck already. I really don’t have time for this and I can’t leave you here. Move your ass.”
Becca ducked into her car through the passenger-side door, flashing me a nice view of said ass in the process. Didn’t exactly help my mood. She dug around and came back out with a leather messenger bag. I watched as she locked up and then we climbed into my truck, doors slamming.
Becca looked even more scared than usual, which I guess made sense because I was being a dick—but that was only because she fucked Joe instead of me. If Joe was so great, why the hell wasn’t he rescuing her?
You’re a fucking idiot, asshole. You wanna sleep with her? Stop scaring her!
“So what’s in Coeur d’Alene?” I asked, pulling back out onto the road.