Page 9 of Sean Collins

Easing the truck into my parking spot, I turn off the engine and just stay still for a moment. I need to figure out my attraction to Elora. Every time I'm around her, the heat cranks up one more notch, and it's becoming unbearable not to touch her when we are together. The thing that frightens me the most is that one taste – one night – will most like be not enough.

It isn't just the woman’s luscious curves and tight little body that I find attractive. I also like her cold and calculated way of going after her parents’ killer(s). She has put aside all emotion and is methodically researching about anyone with a connection to their hit and making them pay, albeit financially. This isn’t some hare-brained scheme she cooked up one night while drinking too much wine; she has trained and planned for it. It reminds me so much of what I would do in a similar situation. It is hard not to trust Elora. Deep down, I know that she will stick around until she gets what she needs.

Climbing out of the truck, I walk into the club, motioning to Creed, Dice, Torque, Cash, and Marshall. I texted them to meet me here after leaving the coffee shop.

“Did you find our thief?” Creed asks as soon as the door is shut, and we have all taken our places in the office. My brother is a bit of a hothead, and what I’m about to say will not go over well.

Still, I try. "She – Elora – is staying in a rental place across Brenda’s coffee shop. I saw her in there and went in to have a talk with her. She still has our things and gave some vague answers for why she stole from us, but we are meeting again this evening to hash everything out."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Creed explodes, jumping out of his chair and getting in my face.

I square my shoulders calmly, saying nothing.

My reaction angers Creed even more. "Have you lost your mind? She stole from us, Sean. Stole! Because she has a pretty face and a fine body, are you going to let her get away with it? When did you start thinking with your dick and not without your brain?" he utters heatedly.

I look at the other guys. It is clear they are thinking the same thing as Creed but are just not saying it. I am their president, after all. They are showing me the respect my position deserves even if they agree with my brother.

Sighing, I say, “First of all, get out of my face, Creed, or I will do it for you." My icy voice cools Creed's temper down to a simmer, and he steps back a few feet but remains scowling at me, arms crossed over his chest. Satisfied, I continue, “If Elora just wanted to rob us, she would have rabbited at the first opportunity. She is looking for information about the Russian mob and our involvement with them. From the files she stole and some unknown way of getting her intel, she knows that Chelsea used to be a mafia princess, and she wants to talk to her.”

"Over my dead body!” Marshall exclaims. “That thief is not allowed to interrogate my wife! Chelsea has worked hard to put that part of her life behind her, and she doesn't need some trash bringing it all up again because you have a hard-on for her."

I let his comment go, knowing that he’s not wrong at all. Instead, I utter, “You know I would never endanger Chelsea, especially not just to get my dick wet. It’s not like I don’t have plenty of offers for that kind of thing around here already.”

"Then, tell me, brother, why isn't this thief handcuffed to a chair for interrogation right now?" Creed sneers at me.

I sit back down and sigh, putting my head in my hands for a moment. When I look up, I retell the story that Elora has given me, as well as what she knows so far about her parents’ deaths. Even when my narration is done, though, the room has remained so silent that we can all hear the bar noise despite the closed door.

"Jesus," Torque whispers after a while, rubbing a hand over his bald head, "No wonder the girl is messed up."

"That is sad, indeed, but what does that have to do with us? Why would she rob us?" Creed asks, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Elora has information that links her parents and the mafia to Truth and Consequences. I am hoping Chelsea can shed some light on it for us. But if she declines to talk to Elora, that will be her decision," I say, looking at Marshall, who just nods. He has girls of his own, and this isn't a far-fetched scenario that may happen in his own house.

"Once you tell her that story, you know Chelsea will do everything to help that woman," he utters, concern written all over Marshall’s face.

“I will have dinner with her tonight and try to get more of the story. Then, if Chelsea does not mind meeting Elora, perhaps they can talk. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get ready."

I walk out of the club and return in my truck before anyone can talk again. Once I am alone, I sigh.That went better than I thought.But then, the silence breaks when I hear someone banging on my window. I look outside and see Torque standing there. I roll it down and give him a look.

“Hey, Boss, I just want you to know that we are behind you. If this is the way you think we should handle this situation, then we trust you," he utters.

"Thanks, Torque, that means a lot." And it genuinely does. Knowing that my members believe in me is important. I just hope their trust isn't misplaced, and Elora isn’t lying about her identity.

Torque nods and steps away from my truck. I wave at him before pulling out of the parking lot and speeding away from the saloon.

****

My head was still reeling from her appearance when I came to pick up Elora. As soon as I saw her in that tight black dress, my mind went blank. It hugged her curves but still managed to be elegant. It was hard not to drool or just back her up into the house and do all the naughty things running through my mind. When I was finally able to reach her eyes, I saw they were as hot as mine.

I asked Elora if she was ready to go as my body strained towards hers, half-hoping she would say no and invite me in. However, she did the sensible thing and came out to stand next to me on the porch. The ride to the restaurant was silent, the sexual tension so thick that I was afraid that we would dive at each other if either of us broke the silence.

Now, once we’re inside the restaurant, I put my hand on Elora’s back and guide her to our table. I feel the heat of her skin through the dress, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath.This isn't a date; it is an interrogation in a public place to make her feel comfortable.I need to remember that and stop staring at Elora like I would rather have her as a meal than any food that this restaurant may serve us.

The perky blonde hostess appears, and I immediately order drinks for us.

"Thank you," Elora utters as we settle into the booth. It is dark, intimate, and romantic in the back corner of the restaurant, and the flicker of candle flame across her skin makes it look luminous. Then, she acts all business-like and says, "Okay, tell me about this mafia princess."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "I am supposed to be asking the questions."

---