Page 29 of Fighting Dirty

“Give a man a goddamn minute, will you, doll. Besides, you’re wearing my cut. It’s the same damn thing in my world.”

“I’m not pushing. I’m just happy for the opportunity to spend time with you and share your beautiful body,” she said with a sultry smile that made him want to climb back into that bed and get inside her again. Make her scream.

But he had shit to do that required his attention.

Loading up the video, Ryder murmured, “Aww, that’s all kinds of sweet. You go ahead and catch some sleep, baby girl. I’ll be along right after I have a look at this security feed.”

Snuggling under the blanket, she sighed, and Ryder smiled to himself. He loved being with a woman who loved him for him. Most of the women he’d spent time with had their hand out, constantly wanting spending money and gifts. Tiffany not only never asked him for anything, but she’d also spent a nice chunk of change on Ace to get him some face time with the pretty redhead he’d been slowly becoming obsessed with. She was beautiful, sweet, loving, and treated his brothers with respect. A man couldn’t ask for better.

That was the information he kept clearly in mind when he reviewed the video feed of the demon responsible for spawning his club president’s little one. Watching Abby amble over and pretend to check on the baby as she slipped Darkness’ cell phone into her shirt literally made him ill. She curled back up in the recliner and pulled the blankets up around her. A person would have to be totally ignorant to think the camera wouldn’t pick up the light from the cell phone shining through the blanket. It was faint but noticeable.

Ryder shifted over to the text messages she sent and scrolled through them. There were a few things that caught his notice. She called DevilHoney Bear. How many drug mules referred to the handlers forcing them into service with endearments? He’d have to guess that there weren’t that many. The two of them were definitely a team and probably banging nasties on a full or part-time basis. Nothing else even made sense there.

Next, they identified the club’s internal network and attempted to guess the password without success. When Devil began suggesting ways for her hack the server, Peb had cut them off. Abby then carefully went back, deleted the messages, and dumped the virtual version of the trash can, making retrieving the information more complicated. They were both idiots. The Blind Jacks were much more tech savvy than most. Still, any moron should know that most cell phone companies kept call and text histories.

Shutting off the tablet, Ryder went back to bed and pulled Tiffany’s back against his chest, spooning her, and forced his body to relax. It took longer for his mind to get on board though. Something was definitely off here, and he needed to figure out what it was before his brothers started ending up dead.

~ Tiffany ~

Drifting halfway between the dream world and reality, Tiffany felt a large, warm body snuggle up behind her. One huge arm tugged her back against a wall of muscle. It was the last bit of security she needed to finally let go of her weakening grasp on the waking world.

Her mind swirled with images of her life before that fateful day Ryder Staunton came into her life. She’d grown up in a very average, middle-class family. Her father, a slight bespectacled man, made his living working for a local library. He’d taught her to love reading, and that beauty came from inside. He’d married his childhood sweetheart, and they’d stayed happily married. Her mother was more like a best friend, and the woman’s words of wisdom came back to guide her time and time again.Never judge a book by its cover.Her mother’s favorite saying had served her well in life.

Tiffany found herself sitting outside her childhood home, stroking Rupert the Magnificent. Tiffany could almost feel the tiny, soft cat hairs sifting through her fingers as he gazed up at her.

A soft smattering of rain began falling, and she shifted restlessly in her sleep. She didn’t like dreaming of rain. It reminded her of the day she met Stuart Chamberlain the Third. Her car had broken down, and he’d stopped to lend a hand. He’d been so sweet, charming, and helpful. Insisting on giving her a ride home, he’d made arrangements for her vehicle to be towed. Little did she know, all that charm was part of a carefully crafted persona, designed specifically to cover the malignant narcissist hiding beneath.

In her dream world, the rain picked up. Rupert disappeared, leaving behind only a bundle of rags. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she froze. Not daring to look at the bundle beside her, Tiffany knew what was swaddled inside. Instead, her blue eyes began carefully scanning the shadows for what she knew was near. Every movement notched up the queasy feeling churning in her gut.

Stuart’s face jumped forward out of the darkness, sneering derisively at her. “Run, run, run, little gingerbread girl. Run as fast as you can.”

Jumping back in the swing, she blinked, and he was gone again. Jerking her head from one side to the other, she tried to find him. “Leave me the hell alone. I’m not yours anymore.”

A menacing voice spat out the words to the ancient folktale, morphing them to fit their fight. His hollow, soulless voice seemed to be coming from every direction at once.

“You can run from your husband and hide out of spite. You can stray from my bed and race through the night. Beware, my little sweet gingerbread girl, Stuart will catch you and make you his again under the pale moonlight.”

Covering her ears with her hands, Tiffany tried to shut out the cruel taunting. Memories of him taking her floated through her head. She could feel his strong, sinewy body pinning her to the ground, his nasty breath on her face, and the pain of his rough thrusts into her dry body. She couldn’t do that again. She just couldn’t.

Rocking back and forth, she mumbled over and over, “I’ll run as fast as I can. You’ll never catch me. I’m the gingerbread girl.”

Huge hands landed on her shoulders. Jumping forward, Tiffany tried to jerk free. Strong arms slid around her body, pinning her arms to her sides.

A deep voice ground out words she barely understood. “Calm the fuck down, baby. It’s me, Ryder.”

Her eyes popped open, and she froze. Ryder had her down on the soft carpet, and several brothers were standing in the doorway gaping at their naked bodies. Tiffany realized her hair was stringing into her eyes, and she was sweating profusely. Feeling herself flush with embarrassment, she made an effort to obscure her body from their view.

Ryder turned her face to his, concern etched onto every square inch of his face. “Are you all right, sweetness?”

“I had a nightmare,” she croaked. Her throat was dry. She didn’t know how that could be since she just went to sleep. A few feet away, the windows were beginning to brighten, and a quick glance at the clock on his nightstand told her it was a little past five in the morning.

Standing, Ryder brought her up into his arms and strolled toward his small bathroom. She heard the door to his room shut a moment before he kicked the bathroom door closed. He sat her on the counter and began a shower without a work spoken between them.

Feeling all kinds of humiliated, she stammered, “Look, I’m really sorry about embarrassing you. I hope I didn’t hit you or anything.” Ryder turned to face her, and she saw what she’d done. Swallowing thickly, she shook her head. “God, I’m so sorry.” Rubbing her temple, she whispered, “I had a nightmare about Stuart.”

Leaning over, Ryder wrapped her in his arms. “Fuck Stuart Chamberlain the Third. If he ever shows his face around here, he won’t live long enough to regret it.”

Tightening her grip on his waist, Tiffany asked, “How did you know his name? I never said.”

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