Wanted: Devil Dogs MC (14 page)

“That’s all right. I get it. Some strange guy you don’t know follows you down a street and you think the worse.” He shrugs, as if it makes perfect sense. “Took some balls to call me out, though.” The admiration in his voice doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Isabel is struck by the feeling that what comes out of his mouth is completely different to what he’s actually thinking. She nods, smiling, telling herself she’s being paranoid again. “Well, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.” She knows it’s a pretty big understatement.

He shrugs, still showing his teeth, like a shark. “So, you live around here?”

Isabel nods, unsure why such a basic question puts her on high alert. “Not far.” She doesn’t offer anything else. “How about you? I don’t think I’ve seen you ‘round here before.” She keeps her tone light, but she doesn’t miss he flash of irritation that passes over his features before he schools them into something more neutral.

“No, I’m just…visiting a friend.” He chuckles lightly as if there is something funny she’s missed.

“Great, well, I guess they’re probably waiting for you and I should be getting back.” Isabel crouches down to pick up the grocery bags.

“No, it’s kind of a surprise. He doesn’t know I’m coming.” The steel in his voice makes her freeze, but when she looks up at him, there’s no hint of the coldness she’s just heard. “Hey, let me give you a hand with those.” He reaches out to take one of the bags before Isabel can tell him not to.

“Really, don’t worry. I can handle them. I’m used to it.” She shrugs and smiles at him, winningly, wondering how she can take the bag from him without seeming rude.

“Well, if you ask me, you shouldn’t have to be used to it. A pretty lady like you should have someone to help her.” His lecherous grin tells Isabel he’s trying to be charming, but it’s clearly not an art he’s used to practicing. “I bet you have a boyfriend who’d be more than happy to help you with whatever you need.” He says the words as if he knows something she doesn’t, and Isabel gets that sensation again that there’s something going on that runs deeper than idle chat.

She doesn’t say anything, just smiles politely.

“So does that mean your single?” He gives her a wink that’s a little too knowing for a guy she’s just met.

It wasn’t too knowing for Wesley
, she reminds herself.
But that was different
, her internal voice counters. Why was it different? And the answer is simple: because it was Wes.

“Can I get your number?”

Isabel frowns, trying to figure out why a pickup line she’s heard a hundred times before is making her so uncomfortable. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t usually just give my number out to guys I’ve just met on the street.” She smiles to take the sting out of the rejection. “No matter how chivalrous!”

He blinks, as if he’s not used to hearing the word ‘no.’ But he rallies, smiling that predatory smile again. “That’s probably a good rule. You never know who you might be meeting.” His words seem to be laced with meaning and she shivers in spite of herself.

“Right.” She rocks on her heels wanting to get out of this conversation. “Well, it was good to meet you and thanks again for the letter. I really do appreciate it.” She holds her hand out for the grocery bag. “Now, I really should be going before I’m missed.” She lets the last phrase fall as if it were just a throwaway comment, but from the heated look in his eyes she knows he’s understood why she’s said it.

“Sure.” He hands over the grocery bag, stepping closer to her and drawing himself up to his full height and width. There’s no doubt he’s making a point, that he’s bigger and stronger than she is.

But Isabel refuses to be intimidated. She stands her ground, not moving an inch, not backing down.

He smiles patronizingly, before stepping away and giving her back her personal space. “You be careful now. You never know what sort of bad men could be lurking around, ready to do harm to a pretty girl like you.” He flashes white teeth, but it’s nowhere near warm enough to be taken as a smile.

“Don’t you worry about me. I can look after myself. Anyway, thanks again.” She turns around, taking a few steps away from him.

“I’ll be seeing you.” It’s not what he says, but the way he says it, as if it were a veiled threat.

She doesn’t respond the first thing that comes to her mind: that she has no intention of seeing him ever again. Instead, she waves vaguely behind her and strides purposefully down the road. She stops herself from hurrying, telling herself to be calm. She has to force herself not to look behind her as she does. The man’s words echo through her mind, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
I’ll be seeing you.
All she can think of is getting back home and getting back to Wesley. She wonders when the two had become synonymous, but all she knows is that they have.

As soon as Isabel walks through the front door of the boarding house, she drops her grocery bags unceremoniously onto the floor. She breathes a sigh of relief, leaning against the hard wood for a few seconds until her heartbeat regulates itself.

“What happened?” She opens her eyes to see Wesley staring at her, a concerned look on his face.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” She shakes her head, not wanting to get into it now with him. She picks up the bags and walks past him to the kitchen.

“Let me take them.” He tries to take the full bags out of her hand but she shrugs out of his reach.

“You don’t have to, really. It’s fine.” She wants to do something mindless and pretend that her encounter with the creep never happened. She starts packing the fruit away first, relishing that she has something to focus on other than how uncomfortable Scar Face had made her feel.

“You’ve said fine twice in the past minute. That’s never a good sign.” Wesley is leaning lazily against the refrigerator, making it impossible for her to unpack the rest of the bags. But his attention is completely focused on her.

“Wes, can you just drop it? I don’t want to talk about it.” She sighs, knowing she’s being a bitch. “Please?” She motions him away from the refrigerator but he doesn’t move.

“You used the ‘P’ word. This must be serious.” He’s only half-joking. He leans in closer to her, inspecting her face as if he were a doctor. “You’re pale, you won’t look me in the eye, and you’re acting all skittish. Something’s happened and we’re not leaving here until you tell me what it is.” His arms are folded across his broad chest, giving him the look of an immovable object.

The man just doesn’t know how to take
no
for an answer and Isabel’s encounter with the creepazoid has taken pretty much all of the fight out of her.

“It was just some guy. He freaked me out. I thought he was following me.” When she sees Wes’s face darken, she makes a calming gesture with her hands. “It was all just in my head, though. He was just trying to catch up with me. I dropped something and he returned it. End of.” She shrugs, hoping the perky smile she throws him will satisfy him. She nudges him gently out of the way of the refrigerator and he allows her to move him. She’s under no illusions that he’s not resisting her.

Wesley remains silent for a few beats, watching her as she packs away the groceries, not speaking until she’s finished what she’s doing and there’s nothing left to distract her.

“Start from the beginning.” He leans against the kitchen counter, looking at her expectantly.

“The beginning of what?” She frowns at him, bewildered. “There’s no beginning; there’s no story, Wes. Like I said, he was just being kind, returning my mom’s letter to me. There’s no more to it.” She shrugs, not voicing the weird feeling she had from him or the menacing vibe the stranger was giving off.

“Your mom’s letter?” Isabel can almost feel him buzzing at what she’s just said. “You’re always so careful with it, though. How would he have gotten hold of it?”

Isabel shrugs. That thought had crossed her mind. But there is a very simple explanation and, as her mother always used to say, the simplest explanation is usually the right one. “I was on the phone with Jamie. I guess I was distracted and it must have fallen out of my pocket without me realizing. He said it happened at the cashier’s desk.” The note of doubt has crept into her voice.

“But you didn’t believe him,” Wesley prompts.

Isabel sighs, knowing she’s not going to be able to avoid Wes’s questioning so she might as well tell him everything. “No.” She shakes her head. “I noticed him kind of staring at me before then.”

“That’s not strange, though. You’re a beautiful woman, Isabel.” Wes says the words as if they’re a statement of fact, not an opinion and she feels herself flush.

“It wasn’t like that.” She runs her hands through her hair, lifting it from the nape of her neck to cool off. “It was like he was trying to scare me.” She throws her hands up, not able to explain it any better than that.

“Go on.”

Isabel is bolstered by the fact that Wesley doesn’t seem to think that she’s being a paranoid freak. “I don’t know. He saw me notice that he was staring at me a couple of times. But he didn’t look away. It was almost like he wanted me to know he was watching me. Does that make any sense?” She looks up at him helplessly.

Wesley nods tightly. “He was trying to intimidate you. Then what happened?” His voice is tense, as if he’s trying to hold himself in check.

“I left the market and I saw he was following me so I got a little scared.” She can’t help but look embarrassed about that particular fact. “I didn’t want to lead him to the house, so I confronted him.”

Wesley looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head. “You what?”

Isabel rolls her eyes at his reaction. “I confronted him. I asked him why he was following me. That’s when he gave me the letter.”

“Jesus, Isabel! What the hell were you thinking? What if he’d had a knife or a gun? What would you have done then?” Wesley looks so frustrated that he’s almost vibrating.

Isabel doesn’t tell him that those exact thoughts had already crossed her mind. Instead she stands tall, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m a grown woman, Wes. I can look after myself.”

“Apparently not.” The words are grumbled more to himself than to her, but she lets it go.

“Look, I don’t want to fight about this. Please can we just let it go?” She looks at him pleadingly but he just shakes his head slowly.

“Not until you tell me everything. What else has got you so spooked? Did he say something to you?” Wes looks primed to go after the guy if she answers in the affirmative, but she also knows that it’s useless to lie to him. The truth will out.

“He said ‘I’ll be seeing you.’” It sounds so stupid when she says it out loud. “But it wasn’t like a cheery, ‘see ya.’ It was more like ‘watch yourself because I’ll be back.’” She rubs her temples, thinking she must really be cracking up. “I’m just making a big deal out of nothing, really.” She waves away the underlying feeling of something not being quite right.

“Did he see what house you went into?” Wes is already walking towards to the front door, with Isabel hurtling after him.

“No, at least I don’t think so. I mean, I’m pretty sure, he didn’t.” Isabel curses herself for being too stubborn to look behind her when she was walking down the street. She hadn’t wanted to admit to him – or to herself – that she was nervous.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He levels a stern look at her, but her hand is on his shoulder before he can walk out the door.

“Where are you going?” From the look on her face, she already knows. “What are you going to do?”

Wesley is breathing heavily, as if the adrenaline is already racing around his system. He’s priming himself for a fight. “I’m going to find him and explain that he shouldn’t’ be stalking women.”

“From the way you say ‘explain,’ I’m guessing what you meant to say was ‘beat him into submission.’” Isabel is only half-joking. “And it’s not that I don’t appreciate the whole defending my honor thing, but he didn’t do anything wrong. He was just a guy who creeped me out a little. What are you going to do? Beat up everyone who’s a little weird?”

Wesley doesn’t even pause for breath. “If that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”

Isabel melts a little at his words, but now isn’t the time for swooning. The last thing she wants is for him to get into a fight because of her. It was bad enough seeing him bloody and bruised most nights. Knowing she was the one who caused it would be so much worse.

“Wes, please don’t do this. Nothing happened.” She keeps her voice calm, not wanting to give away the fact that the anger she sees coursing across his features is actually scaring her a little. She’s never seen him like this and already she knows she never wants to again.

“Nothing happened?” Wesley rounds on her, looking like he’s ready to throttle whoever gets in his way. “He could have done
anything
to you. These guys give off a threatening vibe for a reason, because they get off on scaring women, doing bad things to them. Believe me, I know men like him. I’ve seen them.”

Isabel places a hand gently on his shoulder and she feels the muscle jump under her touch. “How do you know men like him?”

Wes looks down at the floor, as if he can’t bear to look at her when he says the words. “In my line of work, you see a lot of scum, enough to make you lose your faith in humanity. That’s the kind of people they are. I can spot men like them from a mile away.”

“Wesley, I’m fine. Look at me.” She tips his head up so that his bottomless black eyes meet her green ones. “I’m fine. But if you walk out that door, I won’t be.”

He looks a question at her.

“I don’t want to be the reason you fight, Wes. I hate it enough already. If something happened to you because of me, I don’t know what I’d do.” She strokes her fingers along his stubbly jaw.

“Why do you think I’m so desperate to go out and pummel that guy? If he had hurt you…” He lets the rest of the sentence hang in the air, but he doesn’t need to say the words, his meaning is clear.

Isabel sighs, seeing the frustration written on his handsome face. “The way I see it, Wes, is you have two choices.” She counts them off on her hands. “One, you go out there, try to find the guy and if you do manage to find him, you get to pummel him and hope he doesn’t report you to the cops for assault and battery or that he doesn’t pull a knife or a gun, as you so astutely pointed out. Two, we find another outlet for all that energy you seem to have pent up.” She shrugs. “The choice is yours.”

Wes raises an eyebrow, his shoulders already relaxing a notch. “And what ‘outlet’ do you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we can think of something that’ll do the trick.” Isabel is smiling flirtatiously, all traces of nerves now gone.

They tumble into his bedroom, all arms and legs, as hungry for each other as ever. Wesley’s kisses are desperate, as if he’s trying to take in every part of her at the same time. She knows he’s still playing over what could have happened to her in his mind. She’s familiar with the feeling; it’s the same one she gets whenever he gets one of the phone calls that sends him out in the middle of the night. His hands are all over her, touching her, as if he’s trying to convince himself she’s really here and nothing has happened to her. Isabel knows he needs this reassurance, that she’s all right.

Within seconds he has pulled off her clothes and she feels the senses in her body explode as he kisses her deeply, communicating with his lips just how much he wants her. With a supreme effort of will, he holds her at arms length and for a moment, Isabel feels a sliver of doubt. Is he about to change his mind? But if anything, his expression tells her the opposite. He’s looking at her as if she is a present he can’t wait to unwrap. His eyes feast on her.

“You’re one beautiful woman, Bel.” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe his luck.

Isabel, impatient to have that skin-to-skin contact she so desperately desires, tugs him back towards her, skimming her fingers underneath his t-shirt, pulling the hem up and over his head. She pushes her chest against his, feeling her nipples harden as they meet.

Wesley dips his head down, kissing her right breast, then her left. He drags his tongue over her nipples, filling her with sensation. She looks down at him, at the way he gently suckles at her breasts while he cups the other with his big hand, raking his thumb over the nipple. In that moment, she knows she has never wanted any man as much as she wants him.

Isabel reaches for the zipper of his pants, matching his desperation with her own need for him to be inside of her. His pants drop to the floor and, suddenly, Isabel is aware she’s being carried. Wesley lifts her as if she doesn’t weigh anything, as if she is light as a feather. But he doesn’t take her to the bed; instead he backs her up against the wall, his hand on her ass, holding her up. Automatically her legs go around his waist, welcoming his hardness inside of her.