Page 2 of Kilo's Edge

He caught the sound and turned to look at my new—well, new to us—house. “How old are you?” he asked, sounding suspicious.

“Twenty-four,” I replied, amused at the relief that crossed over his face.

“Had to ask,” he said with a shrug.

The kids called out for him to return to their game, sounding impatient.

“Heading to work?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m going to be late if I don’t go.”

He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, palming the football with one hand. “Have a good day at work, Camila.”

He didn’t leave, so I started up my car and backed out of the driveway. I could feel his deep brown eyes on me as I drove away. Mama was just looking out for me, but how was I supposed to resist a man like that?

By the time I got to work, I had to rush into the employee area to stow my stuff in my locker and grab my apron. I hurried up to the front. “Morning, Mary,” I said, as I stepped behind the register I’d been assigned for the day. Being a cashier wasn’t what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, but I’d be damned if I was going to let Mama work three jobs to try to support me and my little sister.

“Morning, Camila,” Mary called as she rang up her customer. The familiar beeps settled my nerves as I began my work day. It was too busy to think too much of gorgeous eyes and tattoos.

The minute I sat down with my lunch though, Kilo crept back into my mind.

“What held you up this morning?” Mary asked, as she sat across the table from me in the lunchroom.

I sighed. “My neighbor.”

“The gorgeous biker?”

Nodding, I told her, “He said his name is Kilo. That it’s a road name.”

“Oh,” she said, drawing the word out with a grin. “So he’s in an MC.”

“A what?”

“A motorcycle club. Those are usually the guys who have road names. Does he wear a cut?”

“What’s that?”

“A black leather vest.”

So that was what he wore. A cut. I nodded.

“Yeah, your neighbor is in a motorcycle club.” She smiled at me.

I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but experience told me I’d been right to turn down his offer of dinner. We’d just moved here. There was enough going on in our life without me dating a man like that. Not that I knew what it meant to be in an MC, but I planned to research it the minute I was alone.

After lunch we went back out to our registers. The day was going great until a man dropped his case of beer onto the belt. It hit so hard the noise made me jump. A stranger dropping beer shouldn’t have me on full alert. My eyes snapped down to the beer then up to his face. He was grinning sheepishly, though I wasn't sure if it was from making such a loud noise or from buying a thirty pack for himself. It took every ounce of self-control to keep my hands from shaking.

My heart thumped heavily in my chest as I rang him up and sent him on his way. I hated my reaction, but couldn’t seem to help myself. Four years ago something like that wouldn’t have even fazed me. But enough had happened during that time that now I was jumpy as hell.

“Hey, Camila,” Joe said from behind me.

“Hi.”

“Gary said you were interested in overtime?” he asked.

“Yeah, if it’s available,” I told him.

“Let me look over the schedule and I’ll let you know. It’s time for you to head out. Your shift’s over,” he told me, staring down at the clipboard in his hand as he walked away.

---