Dangerous to Know (6 page)

“Dinner,” he insisted in a husky tone. “One hour.”

“Um—”

He pressed a quick kiss over her protest. Just a short taste of what she craved before she was free and he was striding across the half-empty parking lot, yelling back that her only other option was to chicken out.

Oh hell.

*   *   *

“I'll tell him I'm tired.”

Harley only stared at her as she paced in front of his cage.

“I'll tell him…”

The doorbell rang, startling her.

“You're early.”

She spoke while opening the door, which was a good thing because coherent thinking became impossible—instantly. Mercer had changed back into his black leather. The man embodied the animal she'd labeled him last night and it excited the hell out of her.

And there went all ideas of chickening out. Heat was zipping along her veins, making her bold.

“Your hour started in the parking lot, not when you got home, honey.” His tone sent a shiver down her spine because it was edged with a demand she recalled very clearly from his kiss.

She'd be an idiot to go out with him, it went against every rule of safe dating, but her body just didn't give a rat's ass. Her nipples contracted, making her sorry she'd slipped into a soft jersey top.

He held up a leather jacket. “Come on … are you really worried about me turning into a psycho?”

“I should be.” But she wasn't. It was time to enjoy the moment and leave the regrets for tomorrow.

He chuckled and curled one finger, beckoning her forward. “I already told you my name, baby, and besides, your parrot likes me.”

“No he doesn't. Harley only likes one person on the face of this planet. The rest of us exist to serve him.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “I'll just have to work on stroking him the right way.”

He held the jacket up for her to slip her arms into the sleeves. It was heavy and pressed against her hard nipples, sending little zips of awareness across her chest. She fumbled the zipper before succeeding in pulling it up to her neck; all she could think about was his hands stroking her.

“Or maybe I'll demonstrate my skill on you and you can recommend me to the bird.”

He curled his fingers around her wrist and tugged her toward him. She ran into the solid wall of his chest, but that only pleased her in ways she hadn't believed possible. He was hard and she wanted to touch every inch of him. She stroked his chest, the ridges of muscles thrilling her on some previously unknown primitive level. But it was there and intoxicating pleasure went through her and took hold.

“Oh hell…” she muttered, food the last thing on her mind.

“I was thinking the same thing…” He reached up and grasped the zipper. He jerked it down so the night air brushed her chest. Anticipation sizzled along her nerve endings but she stiffened, suddenly scared. Only she wasn't frightened of him, just of the way she was responding to him.

He seemed to know how to reach a deep place within her. It was unsettling to say the least, but exciting on a scale she'd never experienced. It was a whole new realm of sensation, like discovering color for the first time.

He yanked the zipper back up and clasped her wrist to pull her through her front door. He'd somehow managed to take her keys from her hand while she was trying to draw in enough breath to jump-start her brain. There was a click behind her as he locked the door and tried it to make sure it was secure.

“Let's take a ride.”

His bike was in her driveway, looking mean and somewhat misplaced there in front of the oh-so-mundane tract-home garage door. The cream edging and gray stucco said
responsible
while the Harley screamed
rebel.

He swung his leg over the bike and looked back to see what she'd do. He tossed her a helmet before putting one on himself.

Throwdown.

Total and complete. The challenge was in his eyes. A flash of anticipation sparked off a need inside her, and she was on the back of the bike before she really thought any further.

Big surprise. Thinking isn't something I do around him …

Nope. But feeling was.

And boy, was she feeling now.

He was hot and hard and …
delicious.

Zoe wrapped her arms around him, scooting up against his back so that her thighs were hugging his hips.

Decadent.

Sinful.

Totally mind blowing.

The vibration of the bike sent a jolt through her clit. It was bluntly sexual and she decided she liked it.

A lot.

He pulled out of the driveway, giving her a moment to adjust her hold and mold her body to his. Mercer did a slow zigzag down her residential street as she learned how to flow with the motion of the bike. How to cling to him and move in unison with him.

It was mind blowing.

But the word that seemed to describe the experience best was … carnal.

The sun was gone, the moon rising on the horizon. The perfect complement to the moment. The air was cooler, making her more aware of the warmth she was hugging. Although,
hug
seemed too casual a word. Too sedate. A whole new meaning was blossoming inside her brain.

Mercer was at the center of that definition. Guiding the bike through the streets with a hard, determined purpose. Traffic didn't slow him down. He just went around it.

Going after what he wanted. That was at the heart of his personality and at the moment, she was enjoying it hugely.

He drove out of the city, up into the hills. There was less light and Zoe liked that, too.

Darkness suited Untamed.

They were leaving behind the prime, clifftop ocean-view lots and heading where the landscape wasn't maintained. There was scrub brush and local plant life. The road had potholes, the edges crumbling from weather. Ahead there was a flash of light that grew into a tin-roofed building with weathered boards on its exterior and about a hundred bikes parked in front of it.

Once Mercer killed the engine, music filled the air. A hard, classic-rock sort of music that suited the dozen or so bearded men smoking on the porch of the establishment. They wore leather and boots, had tattoos and piercings. There was more than one shaved head. They stared right at Mercer and her without a care for polite behavior. Direct, calculating looks. She was sized up from head to toe, a couple of snorts coming her way.

“Let's eat.”

Mercer pulled her past the smoking group as he gave them a warning glance. The grip on her hand didn't go unnoticed, either. It was a territorial declaration.

The inside of the place matched the outside. More weathered wood and tin siding. There was a fence running across a corner of the place from floor to ceiling with a band playing behind it. She got the feeling the fence wasn't there to keep the band in.

“Tough venue?” she asked.

Mercer pulled her into one of the booths whose sides went all the way to the ceiling before he nodded. “Trial by fire. If the audience doesn't like your sound, they'll be sure to let you know.”

“Think I'll stick with my day job.”

“What you drinking?” a waitress in a leather vest and skirt asked as she came by the table. She was all woman and looked like she just might double as a bouncer, her arms defined and tattooed. A brazen amount of breast was on display that she had no trouble aiming toward Mercer.

Mercer tossed a couple of twenties on the table. “Bring us what's cold and goes with the special.”

She scraped the money off the table and tucked it into her cleavage. “Sure thing.” She looked at Zoe and her heavily lipstick-coated mouth curved mockingly before she glanced back at Mercer. “Let me know when you get tired of playing with baby dolls.”

Zoe managed to hold in her snickers until the waitress was far enough away. Mercer eyed her with a raised eyebrow. She interlaced her fingers, propped her elbows on the table, and put her chin on her fingers. “Baby dolls.” She mimicked the waitress's words as she fluttered her eyelashes.

Mercer spread out on the other side of the booth, propping one foot on the seat so that his knee was bent and he was lounging in the corner. “She's not too far off the mark. Surprised she didn't card you.”

Zoe didn't exactly care for the assessment. “So that's how I strike you? A real babe in the woods?”

His eyes narrowed, like he was rethinking his opinion of her. She stared straight back at him, making it clear she wasn't going to buckle. He let out a half laugh that was an admission of sorts. “Maybe you just look sweet and innocent.”

Something in his tone touched off a tingle on the back of her neck. But the waitress returned, dropping off two longneck bottles that had frosty surfaces and a glass of water that she plopped down in front of Zoe with a flourish of her manicured hand.

“How thoughtful of you,” Zoe said, earning herself a cutting look before the woman turned around at the sound of a bell being rung.

“If she spits in your food, it'll be your fault,” Mercer observed.

“Not likely.” Zoe fingered the neck of the beer. “You're lounging across the booth like a serving of cream in a silver saucer. Little wonder she wants to encourage me to shove off.”

He snorted. “Can't wait for you to take a lick.”

Zoe took a swig of her beer instead. It might not have been the wisest thing. Her wits were already buzzed on pheromones. “Guess you're going to have to wait … since we're in public and all.”

His eyes narrowed. It lasted only a moment. He actually looked surprised for an instant before he recovered his nonchalant expression. “Tease.”

There was a double ring on the bell on the counter between the kitchen and the restaurant as Zoe took another sip from her beer. “Maybe I'm adjusting to my company.”

His lips curved approvingly before the waitress was back with a couple of plates that she slid onto the table. She was gone as someone whistled at her.

“You're playing some sort of game.” Zoe wasn't really sure where her suspicion was coming from or why she felt the need to voice it. But it was there.

Mercer lowered his leg and sat up to the table. He grabbed the steaming sandwich crowned with glassy onions and took a bite. Zoe picked up a fork and started eating her food with the utensil because there was no way she was going to fit the thing in her mouth.

“I always thought dating was a game, too.”

“Smart-ass.” She pointed her fork at him. “You're up to something.”

He'd taken another bite and was chewing it. He opened his hands in an innocent gesture.

Zoe wasn't buying. Mercer wiped his lips before answering. “I wanted to find a way to get you to wrap your thighs around me. Had to settle for you doing it with your clothes still on.” His eyes narrowed. “This time anyway.”

“Very funny.”

“The waitress probably thinks it is,” he answered.

Zoe laughed and took another bite to avoid talking. She needed to think but couldn't really decide just what it was about the situation that was bugging her. Part of her wanted to say it was the guarded look that surfaced on Mercer's face from time to time.

Yeah, well, it's not exactly like he knows me any better than I know him.

Point for the “making too much out of nothing” team. Or as Roni would say,
Live a little. This isn't a dress rehearsal.
Either she was interested in tasting life or she could just head on home and get started on being a crazy cat lady.

“Dog or cats?”

Mercer's eyes narrowed in confusion.

Zoe shrugged. “Getting to know each other? Right? The nice-guy thing? So what's your style, dogs or cats?”

He claimed his beer from the tabletop with a slow motion of his fingers that made her breath catch. “That's a trick question.”

“How so?”

He pointed at her as he placed the bottle down. “You're a bird person.”

“No, I'm just domestic staff for a parrot,” she clarified.

He offered her a half laugh, his gaze lingering on her lips. She still didn't know very much about him but the space between them felt like a small canyon. Zoe laid her fork down. Mercer's expression tightened, need flickering in her eyes. He slid out of the booth and captured her hand. The waitress shot her a cutting look as they crossed the restaurant.

That's right. He's mine tonight.

Maybe just tonight, but she'd worry about that tomorrow.

It was a really long time away.

*   *   *

Greer McRae turned around from the bar, pulling his phone from his breast jacket pocket. He typed in a message before tossing down some bills and walking toward the door. Men turned to look at him, sizing up his ability to fight by the way he moved. Greer admitted to enjoying it. He liked a good fight and always had. His grandfather said it was in his genes. Maybe so. Greer had seen his share of fighting men and even among their ranks, he found an enjoyment in brawling that just might be better suited to the Highlands of Scotland a century ago. About the only thing he didn't like was the way his blond hair showed every drop of blood. Someone always called over a damn medic when what he really wanted was a shot of whiskey.

Mercer was already on the back of his bike, their mark slipping on behind him with a hesitant smile on her lips. A blind man wouldn't have missed what was on her mind.

Greer wished he could have. The details of the operation were leaving a dirty taste in his mouth. Sure, he knew it came with the territory, understood that sometimes you had to roll through the gutter to find the criminals who did business there.

Still, the Magnus family had an impressive service record. Honor was earned and the Magnus family had done their time and duty. If her father was innocent, he was going to be pissed. Rightfully so.

But the evidence was there. Saxon wouldn't have been assigned the case otherwise. Greer shook off his guilt. It was rare but not unheard of for a man like Zoe's father to get tired of being paid only in respect. Personally, it turned Greer's stomach to think of the man going bad, but it happened.