Dangerous. Maybe even a killer.
No. She pushed the thought away. Even after she gave up hope of seeing him again, she never believed he was responsible for her father’s death.
“We should go.” She pulled away, at least she thought she did, but his hand stayed firm on her lower back. “I’ll show you my portfolio.”
“Saw it when I stopped by the shop on my way here. You got real talent. Always did.”
“You broke into the shop?” The warmth of his hand seeped through her body making it difficult to keep her spine stiff and her indignation firm.
A half grin spread across his face, and his shoulders relaxed. “Thought maybe you were unconscious inside since the hours on the door said the shop was open on Sunday.”
“And you didn’t think to call Tank or T-Rex who were parked outside my house?”
“I’m a man of action, sweetheart.” He nuzzled the side of her face, the rasp of his breath in her ear so damn erotic she wanted nothing more than to drag him into her house and do something insanely stupid.
“I hope you didn’t rampage through the shop during your break-in. It’s partly my business, too.”
He jerked back and his smile faded. “You think I’m gonna steal from you?”
She cringed at his sharp tone, but better to have him annoyed than sexy and seductive. “You are an outlaw biker. Isn’t that what you do? Mayhem, theft, arson … the more illegal the better?”
“We do what we gotta do to live the way we want to live.”
Evie pulled away, putting some much-needed space between them. “The way I want to live includes having a way to pay the rent, and that’s not going down if anything happens to the shop. Plus, Axle won’t be back. I told Jagger, but he didn’t believe me. He was just delivering a message from someone.” She turned to the door, cringing at the reveal she hadn’t intended to make, but before she could step inside, Zane clamped a hand on her shoulder.
“Who?”
Her heart pounded a warning, but she couldn’t outright lie, and the question suggested he already knew the answer. “Viper.”
Zane hissed in a breath. “What was the message?”
She twisted a lock of hair around her finger, and looked back at him over her shoulder. “It’s … sort of … personal. We’re … um … friends.”
His gaze locked on her finger and his eyes narrowed. Damn. He knew her anxiety tell as well as she knew his. “Viper doesn’t have friends.”
“Maybe you don’t know him that well.”
He released her and took a step back. “Maybe I don’t know you.”
* * *
Zane flicked the throttle on his Harley and the bike surged forward, forcing Evie to tighten her grip around his waist.
He could do this.
The distance between Evie’s house and Bill’s shop couldn’t be more than twenty miles. And look. He’d already made it to the highway. If she would just stop wiggling on the seat behind him … and if she didn’t hold him quite so tight with her breasts pressed up against her back … and if her fingers weren’t dangling over the bulge in his jeans, which was getting more pronounced the closer she pressed her body against his … then he might actually make it to Big Bill’s shop without either crashing the bike or spilling in his pants like a teenage boy.
He couldn’t remember feeling lust like this since the night he’d left Stanton. Sure he’d had women. The sweet butts were always warm and willing, and if he wanted to keep things discreet, the Sinners owned several strip clubs in town. But he rarely felt the need to take advantage of the opportunities the cut provided. And when he did, every woman morphed into Evie. She had been burned onto his brain for eighteen years, ruining him for other women forever.
And now her soft, sexy body was pressed up against him, her thighs brushing his thighs, her hips firm against his ass, and her damn fingers resting on his fly.
His groin tightened and he swerved the bike.
Fuck. Concentrate. But it was so damn hard.
He wondered what Mark would think about his wife riding on the back of Zane’s bike, holding on to him, legs parted, cheeks flushed from the wind. If she’d been his, there would be no way he would allow her on the back of any man’s bike. Hell, he wouldn’t let her near another man. Look how he reacted to her, despite the stain of her betrayal still tainting his heart.
By the time they reached the shop, his cock was rock hard and his body thrummed with need. Shooter pulled up beside them and Zane prayed for Evie to dismount quickly so he would have time to get himself together and calm the fuck down so she wouldn’t see the evidence of his desire.
He wanted her. She’d hurt him and he wanted her. She was with another man and he wanted her. She’d slapped him and damned if seeing Evie come into her own hadn’t made him want her more. And back there on the porch, when she’d brushed her breasts against his chest, the way she’d touched him when they were young, telling him with her body what she couldn’t say out loud, he’d almost taken her.
“Gotta talk to Shooter,” he said after she slid neatly off his bike. “I’ll meet you inside.”
“I’ll go check out the damage.” She gave him a wink and then walked to the door, making his groin tighten all over again at the sight of her beautiful ass perfectly outlined in dark denim.
After the door closed behind her, he briefed Shooter on surveillance techniques, which basically meant finding somewhere to stand where you aren’t visible and don’t fall asleep. He sent Shooter to the picnic table across the street, and then walked around his bike and tried to get his fucking lust in check. He considered the various bike parts, how they fit together and how easily they came apart, and how hard it had been to replace his stock exhaust with a longer, harder, thicker pipe, and how he had to fight with Sparky to get an upswept ball-end megaphone muffler.
When he realized the direction his thoughts were leading, he gave up the fight, made a careful self-adjustment, and headed into the store.
Rows of motorcycles gleamed under the overhead lights. Bill had a lot of stock for a small shop, mostly new models, but a few bobsters, and some custom pieces. The walls held parts and supplies, racks of leathers, helmets, and boots. Although half the stock was used, the scent of new leather and fresh paint permeated the air.
He found Evie in the garage spraying primer on a gas tank perched on an A-frame stand. She had stripped down to a skintight tank top and tied her hair back in a messy ponytail. Loose strands framed her beautiful face. Damn she was hot, standing in that gritty shop, surrounded in motorcycle parts, and with a spray gun in her hand …
Christ. Was everything going to make him think about sex?
“Thought I’d get a head start on my work for tomorrow while I was waiting. My portfolio is over there if you need to look at it under more legitimate circumstances, or if you’ve brought a design, just leave it on the bench and I’ll take a look.”
Zane walked along the wall beside the benches filled with paint supplies and airbrush guns. He had already checked the place out, trying to find clues about her life from the personal items in her workspace: a handbook from Conundrum College; a parenting magazine; a coffee cup from a restaurant in Stanton; a motorcycle magazine; and the charcoal drawing of him, Jagger, and Evie on the wall—a rendition of the picture he had given her. Even now, seeing it again, a lump welled up in his throat—not just because of the memory, but because she’d kept it, and made it larger than life.
“Find anything in the portfolio?” She came up beside him, and he couldn’t stop from brushing one of the loose strands of hair back from her face. The sharp scent of primer took the edge off his desire, and he was finally able to untangle his tongue.
“No. But your work is exceptional.” She’d always been artistic, which was why he had been so unsure of the gift he’d made for her graduation. Although he knew her as well as one person could know another, he’d worried it wasn’t good enough … that he wasn’t worthy. Just like her father had said as he beat Zane by Stanton Creek after finding him with Evie.