Page 17 of Desert Loyalties
MANDRAKE
Eight o’clock hits before I even notice. Time seems to slip faster when I'm pacing like a dog on a chain, waiting for something that’s already mine.
And there she is.
My woman.
My sharp-tongued, deadass beautiful pain-in-the-ass.
She’s in jeans that cling to her hips like a second skin and a tank top that makes my fingers itch. Every man in the room knows better than to look, except the damn prospect standing beside her. I clock him, hard. One more second near her and I might just smash his skull into the bar and call it a learning experience.
But I rein it in. For her.
I head straight over, keeping my steps casual even if I feel anything but. “Ready to go, darlin’?” I ask, voice low, already imagining the way she’ll look in the back of my bike.
She hesitates. A nervous look crosses her face, making me wanna kill whatever’s responsible for it.
“Is it really okay that I leave?” she asks. “Did you check with Ranger?”
That hits wrong. Not because she’s wrong to ask. Hell, we both answer to the man, but because it stings something deep in me that she thinks she needs another man’s permission when she’smine.
She sees it, the change in my expression, and rushes to explain. “I just really like this job, Mandrake. I don’t want to lose it.”
That I understand.
Still, I don’t say anything. I turn toward Ranger’s office and holler, loud enough to shake the walls. “Hey, Ranger!”
He steps out, half-dressed, buttoning his jeans with the look of a man who’s been... busy.
“What?” he grunts.
“You cool if I take my woman for the night?” I ask, knowing full well I’m not really asking.
He smirks like the cocky bastard he is. “Go right ahead, asshole.”
Satisfied, I turn back only to find Skye already walking around the counter with her eyes on me. She reaches out and grabs my hand like we’re heading to some Sunday picnic, all soft fingers and shy smiles. And hell, if that doesn’t gut me in the best way.
I slide my arm around her shoulders, tucking her close like she belongs there, which she does.
“See ya around, fuckers,” I toss over my shoulder as we walk out, the boys whooping and hollering behind us.
“Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asks, voice laced with curiosity and a little challenge.
“Patience, woman,” I mutter with a grin as I straddle my bike and gesture for her to hop on behind me.
She does. Hesitant at first, then all in. Her arms wrap around me, her chest pressed to my back, and I swear the growl that rumbles low in my chest has nothing to do with the engine. I’ve never had anyone on the back before. No one close enough to feel like this.
Every time I throttle, her grip tightens. And every time she squeezes, something primal in me wakes up, howling.
After about twenty minutes on the road, we pull into a quiet neighbourhood just outside the city limits. It’s not flashy just two stories, good bones, tall fence, and a pool in the back. I bought it a while back, when I had to clan my share of the drug money before we went legit. Figured I should put it somewherethat felt untouchable. Something just mine. Somewhere I could breathe.
Now? It doesn’t feel likemineunless she’s in it.
I pull into the garage after keying in the code and kill the engine. She hops off, adrenaline still pumping and immediately looks around, playful smirk in place.
“Did you bring me here to kill me?”
I bark a laugh. “This is my house.”
