Page 8 of Elling & Jackie

In the middle of the group, a woman bent over having dropped one of her shopping bags. He took in the curve of her ass pointed in his direction. Smacking his lips, he gazed over her blue jeans to the tight, maroon T-shirt with the sleeves rolled to her shoulders and to a ponytail swinging through the back of a baseball cap.

He looked away. Now was not the time to be checking out a lone woman when he could go back to the clubhouse and enjoy any of them free for the taking.

The light changed. The car in front of him honked to get everyone out of his way. The woman startled, dropping another sack on the street.

The impatient driver, instead of giving the woman time to gather her purchases, laid on the horn. He gritted his teeth. Nothing pissed him off more than disrespect toward women. Couple that with some weak-dicked man sitting in a four-thousand-pound hunk of fiberglass and metal, and all he saw was a woman in harm's way and danger when he pulled the man out of the car and beat the shit out of him.

Riding forward around the car, he stopped beside the woman, making it impossible for the vehicle to harm her. She gathered the bags in her arms and hurried across the street. With one foot on the sidewalk, she looked over her shoulder.

Her gaze landed on him. His chested pounded in recognition. She was the woman from the hotel. The one wearing Brikken colors.

He'd know the warm brown eyes anywhere.

The vehicle behind him honked, and the driver yelled, "Get out of the fucking road."

He glanced at the driver. The urge to teach him a lesson diverted him from the woman. When he glanced back to the sidewalk, she was hurrying away. All he could see was her ponytail swinging in the wind.

Not wanting to lose her, he ignored the asshole in the car and cut through traffic at the intersection, hoping to head her off before she reached the next block. It was one thing for him to run into an enemy's woman at her work. It was another thing to run into her on the street.

Spotting her crossing to the next block, he turned behind her and pulled up against the curb, motioning traffic to go around him. He was off his Harley and blocking the sidewalk when she stopped in front of him.

Her gaze narrowed, and she made no move to rush past him. He took in her rising and falling breasts. She was as keyed up as he was. Why?

She refrained from asking him to move or finding out why he'd stopped her. There were signs that pinned her as unavailable and untouchable. Anyone belonging to the lifestyle wouldn't step over the line.

He battled with himself. Should he leave or demand answers?

He'd cross any unwritten boundary when faced with a man, but women were off limits.

Slag MC had taken the same stance toward women many times, even recently when Dinah came from Moroad Motorcycle Club and Brage had to make a decision on how to deal with her. Now they were married.

"What do you want with me?" he asked.

Her gaze narrowed, and she tilted her head. "Why are you following me?"

"Because you belong to Brikken and I want to know why they'd send a girl after me." He stepped closer.

"Back off." She held her ground.

Taking her order as a personal challenge, he took one more step closer. She came up to his shoulders—about five feet seven inches. Despite him outweighing her by at least eighty pounds, she faced him as if she wasn't afraid.

"Is Brikken that hard up they'd send you to do a man's job?" he asked.

She sidestepped. He widened his stance, blocking her way.

When she gazed back up at him, he caught sight of her hand moving. Curious to see what she planned to do with her arms full of sacks, he'd missed her purse hidden at her side until he found a pistol pointed in his direction between her purchases.

"It would take me one second to pull the trigger," she said.

He looked around. There were people coming and going, not paying any attention to them. He wasn't afraid to die. He'd been waiting for that moment since he was twelve years old.

"Give your man a message." He lowered his voice. "He better come after me himself, because if he sends his woman again, I'll take her. And, you never know..." He lowered his gaze to her breasts before returning to her face. "You might like it."

Her eyes widened briefly before glaring at him again as if his threat never fazed her. He stepped back; aware the barrel of the pistol had lowered as he'd talked. She wasn't aware that she aimed at his kneecap and not his heart.

He stepped out of her range, got on his Harley, and rode away. When he'd set out today, he only planned to play with the Federal Agent. Instead, he'd made himself an enemy and had insulted a Brikken member in front of the woman.

---