Page 40 of Biker's Prisoner: Property of Bucky

Skin color? Mental health issues that might cause her to be in your vicinity?

“She’s a teacher. Very proper. She used to live in… Fuck… Massive Huge Tits.”

“WHERE?” I ask. I have to tighten the clamp around Gideon’s mouth because his cousin said the word tits to me.

“Massachusetts,” Ruger yells back into the phone.

“Okay. No last name?”

“She’s asleep.”

Not an answer to the question, but Ruger is not right in the head. I’m shocked he answers at all. Gideon, my dumb ass husband, has a good point though.Zaynadoesn’t exactly sound like the typical white girl name from around here.

“Okay. Is she from… the Irish part of Boston?”

I release my grip on Gideon’s mouth because my goofy husband is licking my palm and trying to turn my glare into a smile. I wipe his nasty spit off on his boxer briefs while I wait for Ruger to reply.

“I don’t know,” Ruger says, missing my fucking point and revealing nothing about how he ended up with a woman named ‘Zayna’ as his prisoner. My first and only explanation for her presence in Ruger’s life could be that she’s a prisoner.

“Why do you need this information?”

“What’s it to you?” Ruger asks, spitting somewhere, wherever the hell he is. If I wasn’t on the phone with him, I would assume he was curled up beneath Satan’s throne like a tom cat. Gideon perks up at what he considers to be too much attitude from Ruger.

“If you want me researching some woman, I need to know why.”

“I’m in love.”

Gideon snickers. I glare at him again and press my index finger to my lips. Does he want Ruger to hang up when the tea just started to boil?

“With who?”

“Zayna,” Ruger says, his voice tense with frustration. “She wants me to help her with something and… I’m gonna do it but… I want to know more about her.”

“I suppose asking her is out of the question?”

“I need your help,” Ruger says, sounding desperate. “Please, Tamiya. I love her. And she’s black.”

Gideon covershis own mouth as he sits up. I know he is mouthing “what the fuck” under there because I share the same sentiment. What the hell is going on with this crazy ass man?

“Ruger.You are calling me in the middle of the night telling stories. I’m hanging up.”

“NO!” Ruger yells, losing his shit immediately. “Tamiya, I need you to do this. She must have been in some type of trouble because she came off Deacon Hollingsworth’s truck of girls…”

He trails off and then he spits on the ground again. That man grosses me the hell out and his incoherent sentences combined with the suspense are making me impatient as hell.

“Why should I help you?”

“She’sblack!” Ruger says. But he doesn’t give me a second to respond. “Damn it, Tamiya. I’m not some bad person. I’m not some goddamn racist and I swear, I’ll do whatever you want if you just help.”

I sigh. Baby steps.

“You love her?” I ask cautiously. “I’ll help. I’m just asking.”

“You will?” Gideon mutters. I glare at him again. If he keeps yapping, I swear I’ll take Ruger off speakerphone and keep the tea to myself.

Ruger sighs in frustration.“I’m in love. I swear. It’s nothing like it was with Darlene.”

Darlene. Unfortunately, his mention of his ex-wife means our conversation might have to go off-topic.

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