Page 75 of Sweet Temptation

Naveen was right. I needed to work out or something. I was agitated and had nowhere to put this dark, unsettled energy.

I was fucking pissed, actually.

Jude’s team should’ve seen this coming sooner, before it fucked with their universe. Flynn should’ve known after that night at the club. Something.

But the fact was, Flynn wasn’t working for Summer. And it’s not like Summer had told anyone that anything was wrong or that this guy was harassing her.

Maybe she never would’ve voluntarily told them, until he crossed some major line like he did and she was forced to reach out for help.

Clearly, she didn’t want to ask for help. She didn’t want to admit any vulnerability, or change the way she lived.

She didn’t want the party to have to end.

I sat down at my desk and tried to focus. I had a lot of shit to delegate to others so I could clear my plate enough to focus on Summer’s round-the-clock security detail, plus managing the Players’ security, and putting a plan in place, within budget, until Brody and Jude brought in someone to take over.

At that point, I’d be back to my regularly scheduled programming.

When things were wrapped up enough for me to feel satisfied, and confident that I could leave the office and potentially not walk back through the door for a few weeks—or however long this assignment took—I went to my safe and opened it. I got out my handgun and put it in a duffel bag, along with a few boxes of ammunition. I’d take it to my place and store it there, for now.

My apartment was closer to Summer’s place than the office was.

And with all this talk of motorcycle clubs and drug dealers… it wouldn’t hurt to know my weapon was a little more accessible.

Chapter Ten

Ronan

I was just leaving my office when I heard the roar of motorcycles outside. I glanced out the window to the back alley below… and swore under my breath.

I locked up, set the alarm, and headed downstairs to the parking lot, where a couple of Harleys were rolling in.

I recognized the guy on the lead bike. His build, the attitude that emanated off him as thick as the smell of exhaust, and that blond hair in a short ponytail poking out from under his helmet…

They roared right past me, then stopped and backed into a couple of spots in the otherwise empty lot, right next to my car. They shut off the bikes and took off their helmets, and the blond smoothed back his hair like he was fucking James Dean. Just double the size and triple the asshole.

Piper Grayson. Jude’s older brother.

Vice President of the West Coast Kings motorcycle club.

They got off the bikes and sauntered toward me. I stood where I was, the duffel bag with my gun slung over my shoulder.

I had no idea if they were carrying. They weren’t openly wearing their club colors, but the Kings didn’t usually wear them in broad daylight in the city. Piper wore his leather Kings cut underneath a hoodie, and his club brother wore his under a black bomber jacket.

Piper took off his sunglasses as they approached me.

“Ronan,” he said. “Been a while.”

“It has.”

For whatever reason, he smirked. “This is Blazer.”

I looked at the guy who stood just behind him and off to the side, watching me. Blazer. Sounded like a biker’s road name, if I’d ever heard one; really doubted his mama named him that at birth.

Piper wasn’t born Piper either. I’d gone to high school with him, back when he was better known as Jeremy Grayson.

Back when we were both assholes-in-training, one of us destined for the army and the other probably destined for hard time in prison. Instead, I became a security professional, and he became a professional criminal who’d somehow avoided prison. So far.

I nodded at Blazer or whoever the fuck he was. “Ronan Sterling,” I said.

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