Honey In The Rock (Sweet & Dirty BBW #5)(4)By: Cathryn Cade
He accelerated around a curve, his gaze on the road. “I keep eyes on Flyers’ family. Who they are, what they do. Didn’t take long to find out who likely gave you that shiner you’re sportin’, even though you never reported it to the cops, which you should have, or to one of the brothers, which you goddamn well will in the future.”
There was so much astonishing information inherent in this statement, Billie didn’t even know what to marvel over first. Or second, for that matter.
He knew things like that how? Also, how did he know she hadn’t gone to the cops?
And she was supposed to report any problems to the Devil’s Flyers, the semi-scary motorcycle club with whom her older sister was now affiliated, seeing as how she was living with one of the members?
Okay, that one Billie did know. And if her plan hadn’t worked, no doubt she would have been forced out of her shyness to speak up, even though she hated to bother her busy, hard-working sister and her man.
They slowed and then stopped at a light. Rocker turned and scowled at her. “So, what I wanna know is, what the fuck were you doin’ getting back on that bus, knowing the little gang-banger who gave you that black eye was likely gonna be on there again?”
Billie had to work at not babbling now, because when he gave her that dark, accusing stare she was ready to confess anything.
She scrabbled in her messenger bag and pulled out a hot pink canister. “Well, it would’ve been fine today. If they started anything, I was going to pepper spray them.”
She’d purchased it the evening before, at the local hardware store, thus her encounter with him.
He stared at her for a long second, then his lip curled and he shook his head. “Jay-zus fuck, woman. You ever use that big brain of yours for anything but computer shit?”
Billie blinked, but before she could reply to this astonishing insult, he went on. “Pepper spray can be useful, sure, when you got one opponent in an open situation, and room to move. But on a bus, with two, three or more of those shitheads around you—not to mention all the other people who do not need to be breathin’ that shit in—you seriously thought you were gonna have time to get it out, get the top off and aim it?”
“Well, it wasn’t like I was going in blind. I practiced at home.” Her face grew hot, because she’d gotten into her practicing with zeal, ending up doing some warrior moves, posing like her avatar, Sheenah with one of her deadly fire-bolts—although without the cocked eyebrow.
Luckily the blinds in her sitting room had been shut at the time.
“Oh, well, good,” he said dryly. He shook his head. “Babe. Best self-defense weapon in this case is your own car. Need to get you one.”
“I’m saving for one,” she assured him. “I’ll have enough soon. I just didn’t want to start making payments until I was past the probationary period at my job. Thus, the pepper spray.”
“You need your own ride now,” he pointed out. “I’ll ask around, get you a loaner.”
“What? No, you don’t need to do that!” Why would he do that for her, when he’d essentially never spoken to her before today?
“Babe,” he said again. “You’re Flyer family now. We take care of our own. And that includes makin’ sure you have a ride. Surprised Pete didn’t arrange you one.”
“I didn’t ask. Pete and Lesa have enough to do with the Hangar, and their new relationship. Anyway, they’re in Denver this week at a brewers’ con. I can look after myself.” She’d been doing so for a while now.
The light changed and the big car rolled forward and turned more sharply up the hill toward the hospital complex, towering pale grey ahead against the cloudy skies.
Daffodils rose optimistically from pots and garden beds, but snow still spiraled down on them.
“Flyer women do not look after themselves,” he growled. “Appreciate that you’re tryin’ to stand on your own two feet, and be a grownup and all that, but you got a club of brothers behind you now. When you have a problem, you bring it to us.”
When she didn’t answer, he looked over at her. “You gettin’ this?”