Page 31 of Biker's Prisoner: Property of Bucky

I keep watching her, even if there’s barely enough light in the room to see a woman with skin that dark. I don’t mind. There’s something about her darkness that just feels… right.

“Do you want me to kill them?” I whisper, trying to make it sound like a joke.

But I’m Ruger Blackwood.I’ve been putting beasts in the ground since I was eight years old and shot my first doe. There’s no part of my tone that sounds humorous once the words come out and I can practically smell the fear dripping off Zayna when I offer.

But then,maybe I have it wrong because she rolls around under those covers and her eyes meet mine. She scrunches her face up.Is he really that crazy? I know he really is that crazy.

“What if I said yes?” she says.

She hasthis strange hold on me and the more I look at her, the more confused I get about the emotions coursing through me. I want to have more control of myself. My dick. My head. My heart. But when I look at Zayna, I lose control over… just about everything. I would kill for her. If that’s what it took to make her willing…

To make her stay with me.

I don’t even knowwhy I want that. It’s not like I could ever tattoo her with “Property of Bucky” and watch my club name get inked into her ass. I don’t even know if the ink would show up on skin that dark or if I’ll get my ass kicked for asking that type of question. I’m losing track of myself. Losing track of my thoughts. Desperate for a hit of meth, or at least a hit of something.

“I would do it,” I tell her. “But it won’t be easy for you. I’ll need you to help.”

The corners of her lips form a strange out of place smile. Just a quick, unusual smirk and her face returns to normal. I think she enjoys the thought of killing them, but she knows that type of shit isn’t normal. But just for a second, she showed me. I touch her cheek and either out of instinct or fear, she turns to face me, still wrapped beneath the covers. Still out of my reach unless I rip them away from her body.

Zayna gives me a puzzled look as the back of my hand touches her cheek. She has high cheekbones. Soft skin. Her lips are so damn big. They look almost fake. I run my thumb over them. Softer than I expected. I thought they would feel like rubber, but they don’t. They’re just… lips.

My dick wants to make an emergency exit from my sweatpants. My thumb moves slowly over Zayna’s lips. Desire swells in my chest and her eyes remain snapped open and fixed on me, well aware of the danger zone mounting between us. When my thumb moves away from her lips, she takes the opportunity to put some distance between us.

“I’m not a killer. I’ll get us caught.”

It’s my turn to smile and then make a failed effort to hide it. I’ve been killing for too long to get caught — and not just when the Army needed me to do it. I have known my way around guns since I could talk.

“Wouldn’t let that happen,” I whisper, my thumb running over her lips again. Soft. They’re so soft. Any other black woman would have bitten my finger off by now, but she’s letting me touch her. I don’t know if it’s pure fear or… something else. But the opportunity to do something that I know I shouldn’t just makes me want to do it more.

Everyone knows I’m fucked up. That’s my explanation for this. For her. For everything. Do I really need to get involved with another woman so soon after Darlene? With Eden in theback room, ready to wake up and scream her goddamn lungs out at any minute?

“What about Eden?” Zayna says, her eyes locking with mine. It’s hard not to clamp my hand down on her jaw and ask her how the hell she read my mind. I guess I know how it happened. Those eyes saw straight through me the first time Zayna looked at me. It’s the pull that made me want her to come with me.

I should have known that I was just making excuses to myself, to her and to the club about needing help. When the hell have I ever needed anyone? There’s something about Zayna that just… pulls on me.

“I have family. They can look after her for a while.”

“She’s a newborn. She needs…” Zayna stops herself from saying “her mother”, but we can both work out what the end of that sentence would have been. I run my fingers over her lips because that worked to get Zayna quiet the first time.

“I know she needs me but… If we do this, I want you to stay with me. That’s the deal.”

“Stay with you?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want anything with me.”

Her eyes flicker with judgment. With knowledge. With something else that scares the fuck out of me.

“I do.”

“Ruger,” she says. “I won’t hold your beliefs against you but… I’m not going to participate.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“I have standards for myself.”

“I have muscles. I know what I’m doing…”

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