Page 2 of Owning Emma

Chapter 2

SHAW

I watchedas Roman parked his motorcycle on the curb, cutting the engine with a smooth efficiency that spoke of years of practice. His movements were all beauty and grace, but if anyone ever spoke that to him, they would probably end up with a black eye and bloodied lip. The threat of a beating didn’t stop me from watching, observing his splendor in silence, memorizing his every move.

“You’re late,” I informed him as he took off his helmet, his hair cut so short I could see the sweat glistening on his scalp.

“Fuck off. You knew I would be; I couldn’t leave an old lady’s fucking disaster of a car in pieces on the garage floor.”

“Do the boys know that you’re a secret softy with a tender spot for little gray-haired ladies?” He was in a bad mood, poking at him was only provoking a shit storm of anger, not like that would ever stop me.

“If I hear a single word from any of the guys, I’m slashing your tires.” His eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance. “Let’s go; we're late . . . remember.”

I was still smirking as we approached the door to Anderson’s. Try as he might, Roman’s sour mood would never rub off on me. I was here to keep him level, to be the voice of reason, to act as his sounding board, but if I can do all three while agitating him a bit, I was going to take the opportunity.

Roman pulled the door open with more force than necessary, causing the bells hanging from a ribbon on the handle to chime in an ear-piercing ruckus. I fucking hated bells with a damn passion, and I was sure that’s why he did it. Fucker. I held my smile, pretending like his antics didn’t affect me.

A man appeared in the doorway, the color draining from his face as he saw us. His hands shook as he wiped them on his apron. “Roman.”

It was a single word laced with so much meaning and emotion that even I felt a little choked by it. I understood. we got a bad rap. I was fairly sure the motorcycles, chains, leather, and fucking motor oil that seemed to always be streaked across our skins might have something to do with it. But we aren’t bad guys. Most of us had a heart and donated to charity, and some of us even went to church every Sunday.

Not me, but some.

Roman didn’t bother with proper manners. No shocker there. “Do you have my money?”

I swear the man’s whole body was shaking. His life was probably flashing before his eyes. His immediate thoughts were his last breath before his head went under the water, as the cement block pulled him under the ocean waves. His eyes darted between Roman and me in rapid succession, his throat working through a swallow. “I - I don’t have it. Yet.”

A displeased rumble came from Roman’s throat. “What do you mean you don’t have it yet, Mike?”

The man named Mike inhaled deeply “I had it, I really did. But, I still owed Krank, and he added so much interest. Then, he threatened Emma if I didn’t pay him, so I gave it to him. I had to.”

Roman inhaled deeply, keeping his cool. “Why didn’t you disclose that you borrowed from him, too? I cut you a deal, minimal interest. I was being fair and trying to help a fellow business owner. Had you told me you went to him before me, we could have taken this another route, one where you had been charged less by him because he would have already been fucking paid off.”

Roman’s voice rose a few octaves as he expressed his displeasure. He wasn’t mad at Mike, well he was, but he was angrier about the situation. It’s what Krank did, praying on struggling businesses, charging them nearly impossible interest to pay off, so in the end, they’d fail, he won, and he had them under his dirty fucking thumb.

People looked at Roman, and they thought he’s just another fucking badass with questionable morals, waiting to be swept up by the law. I had to admit that his morals were a little skewed, but his intentions were always for the greater good.

But the real struggle came when Roman had to remind people they couldn’t mistake his kindness for weakness. He couldn’t be taken advantage of. Having payment issues? No problem, call him, ask for an extension, but don’t wait until the moment he steps foot in your fucking establishment to collect, then tell him he’s shit out of luck. It’s that fucking shit right there that really ticked him off.

“I’m sorry,” Mike stuttered while I braced myself for the bad mood he just put the big man in for the rest of the day.

“How much do you have?” Roman asked. He would take whatever he could just to show he couldn’t be ripped off or fucked around with.

Mike didn’t answer; instead, he just stood there silently quivering, probably standing in a pile of his own urine.

“How much!” Mike's silence forced Roman to raise his voice slightly, causing Mike to flinch and me to let out a giant fucking sigh because I would be the one dealing Roman’s bitter motherfucking attitude at the end of this little meeting.

“All of it,” Mike confessed, and all I could do was look toward the ceiling and take a deep breath. Of course, he would give Krank all his money, why wouldn’t he?

Roman opened his mouth to speak again, but he got distracted by a shadow passing behind Mike. I couldn’t see what Roman saw from my angle, but whatever it was, it was no doubt about to be his. That’s sort of how it started with him; his damn property is overrun with mutts all because he accepted them as part of his fucking payment, fucking softy.

Gathering his composure, he spoke again, “So, you paid all you had to Krank, knowing I was coming today to collect, then let me just come without warning me of the situation?”

Mike stumbled to the side, and a petite brunette took his original place in an almost protective stance. “He was protecting me.”

Roman’s brows rose in amusement. “So, what? Now you’re protecting him? All five feet of you?”

Any other man would assume Roman had no interest in the girl, but I knew him deeper, practically felt what he did. I knew he was drawing her to him, committing her to memory, probably to store away in his spank bank for later. Hell, I was too. It was the fucking pink cardigan and ballet flats. All pure and innocent with its single-button securing it over her damn breasts. Just the thought of flicking that button open caused my cock to harden, and I knew he felt the same.