Page 7 of Taming Trickster

"Oh yeah? What kinda hell are we talking about here, bro? She owes some money to the club or something?"

I shoot another hard look at Sophie, who's picking at a hangnail and pretending not to listen. Typical punk move.

"Rose here was having some trouble with a few dirtbags from that Outlaw crew tonight. I stepped in and got her out of that mess, but she can't go home just yet. Not 'til I make sure it's safe."

Understanding dawns in Sophie's glazed eyes as she looks between us appraisingly.

"Oh damn...you got this girl caught up in club business now? That's crazy, even for you!"

"Which is why you're gonna can that smart mouth and just let me get her set up inside for the night," I growl in a tone that brooks no argument. "She stays out of what’s going on with us and the Outlaws from here on out. You read me?"

Sophie shrugs, already losing interest.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, bro. I'm bouncing anyway - gonna go hang at Devin's place tonight."

As she saunters off into the night, I turn my attention back to Rose. The poor thing looks even more shaken and confused than before if that's possible. I can't really blame her, though, after the night she's had.

"Don't mind Sophie, she's just a punk kid always running her mouth," I reassure her gruffly. "C'mon, let's get you inside, and you can take a hot shower and get cleaned up."

Rose nods wordlessly, still looking rattled, as she follows me up the porch steps. I lead her through the front door, flicking on the lights as we step into the modest living room.

The place is a typical bachelor pad - rumpled couch, empty beer cans scattered on the scarred coffee table, and a fat ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts.

Rose wrinkles her nose slightly at the mess and stale smell hanging in the air. It probably reeks like a biker dive to her sheltered senses.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," I grunt, kicking aside a pile of clothes as I gesture for her to have a seat on the couch. "Wasn't exactly expecting company tonight."

She perches herself on the very edge of the worn cushions, back ramrod straight like she's afraid to get too comfortable. Her big blue eyes dart around the room, taking in every detail.

With an inward sigh, I scratch at the back of my neck, suddenly self-conscious about having this innocent young thing in my dingy home. She looks so outta place here, like a delicate wildflower wilting in a nasty biker squat.

"Bathroom's just through there if you want to grab a quick shower," I tell her, nodding toward the hallway. "Get yourself cleaned up and relax a bit after...well, everything."

Rose blinks up at me, hugging her thin arms around her belly.

"You're sure it's okay? That I'm not imposing or anything?"

A harsh chuckle rumbles up from my chest. This girl - seriously worried about being an imposition after I pulled her scrawny ass out of getting beaten up and forced into marriage by those Outlaw psychos?

"Listen," I say in a low, firm tone. "You ain't imposing or anything, you hear me? But you're stuck with me for the time being, whether you like it or not."

Her expression remains apprehensive, but she nods slowly in acceptance. Smart girl, knowing better than to argue with a slab of muscle like me.

"I'll grab you a clean towel and some sweats to change into after your shower," I continue, already turning to head down the hall. "Just take your time and make yourself at home as best you can. I'll be right out here keeping watch like a goddamn guard dog."

From the corner of my eye, I catch the first hint of a timid smile playing across Rose's lips as she murmurs a quiet "thank you."

I grab a clean towel and an old pair of my sweats from the bathroom closet, then head back out to the living room. Rose is still perched on the edge of the couch, looking small and fragile amidst the clutter.

"Here you go," I rumble, holding out the bundle. "Bathroom's just down that hallway to the left. Take your time and make yourself at home."

She accepts the clothes with a murmured "thank you", those big blue eyes peeking up at me through her lashes. Even with her face all bruised and her hair a mess, she's still the prettiest little thing I've ever seen.

As she disappears down the hall, I wander into the kitchen, suddenly parched. Popping the top off an ice-cold beer, I lean back against the counter and take a long pull. The crisp bitterness is refreshing.

Despite the beer's relaxing effect, I can't get my mind off Rose and the situation I've stumbled into with her tonight. She's clearly just a scared kid who got mixed up with those sick Outlaw fucks. The thought of them forcing her into marrying one of their nasty biker mugs makes my blood boil all over again.

I down another swig, trying to calm my rising temper before it gets the best of me. By the gritty look she had, Rose has been through some serious hell already tonight. She doesn't need me looming over her like some unhinged psycho, too.

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