Page 22 of Hook
I tilt my head so I can get deeper, so I can taste every last bit of her mouth. When she moans, I answer with a groan of my own. This shit feels good. Too good.
If there’s one thing I know as an ex-con, it’s that usually when something feels too good, I shouldn’t be doing it.
In a flash, I push myself away from her, holding her still so she can’t follow me forward. This isn’t what I’m here for. I’m here just to make sure her ex isn’t going to hurt her. That’s what I need to be focused on—not how good it would be if I spread her legs right here and sunk balls deep into her.
“Hook…” Bea mutters and licks her lips, ready for more.
“Bea, no. We can’t do this.” I shake my head as I let go of her neck and take another step back.
“Why not? I want to,” she whispers, refusing to let go of my cut.
“You don’t. I’m not a good man. There’s nothing about me that’s soft or romantic. You’re going to go from one fucked-up bastard to another. You don’t need to be doing that.” I shake my head at her.
Her face falls slightly, but she doesn’t let the expression stay. “It’s my choice who I want, and I want this right now.”
She’s testing my willpower.
“No, it’s not happening, sweetheart. I just wanted to say thanks for saving my ass back there. This won’t happen again.” I grab hold of her hands and force her to release me.
She sighs but doesn’t say anything more about the subject. I run my hand down the front of my body and press against the hard on in my pants. I already know a cold shower is on the horizon.
"Come on, I need to get a few things from my office and then we can go inside." I say over my shoulder as she follows behind me.
We walk through the courtyard in silence and I go into the tow yard so I can get to my office.
Ain't this a bitch.
My body freezes up and at the last second I put my hand up to stop Bea from walking. Standing right here in the middle of the tow yard are three men. The two who were searching for Bea before and one other.
All of them staring straight at me and all of them with guns in hand.
Ten
Bea
The world stops spinning.
I knew this would happen. I just didn't think it would happen tonight.
One second I was trying to calm myself after that kiss with Hook the next I'm looking over his shoulder at three of Lance's goons. They're here for me.
Hook turns to me and I see the intensity in his eyes. He means business. It's scary and if I didn't already know that he was here to help me I'd have taken off running in the opposite direction.
"Get in the office, lock the door and don't fucking come out." He orders me and I rush to do as he says. This isn't like what happened back at the warehouse. I know what the threat is here and I also know there's nothing I can do to help him. If these guys get through Hook there's nothing to stop them from taking me straight to Lance.
Sweat beads at my temples as I run into the office and lock the door. I stand back but there's a window that gives me a perfect view into the tow yard. I watch as Hook moves forward and the three men surround him. I can't tell what they are saying but it looks heated. Everyone has smiles on their faces but it's all a show. They are trying to get him off guard, trying to convince him that I'm not worth the trouble.
It's hard for me to convince myself that I'm not. I barged into Hook's life with a full suitcase of baggage. He doesn't deserve this.
I could end this right now but everything in me knows that Hook isn't going to just let them take me without a fight. He's too invested now. All I can do is get him some help.
My eyes scan the sparse office. I was already in here and know there's nothing in there I can use as a weapon. I have my small flip knife but that's not going to help in a gunfight.
My eyes land on the desk, and I see the phone there. I can't call the cops; I might get Hook in trouble, but maybe there's someone else at the compound who can lend him a hand. I saw how well Brick and the other man worked with him back at the warehouse. When I was inside the clubhouse, it looked like more people lived there. The garage was full when we rode in earlier. Maybe. Just maybe.
Taking my eyes off the scene playing out in the yard, I rush to the desk and pick up the phone. Thankfully, there's a speed dial marked BCMC. I'm assuming that's the right number. I press it and wait on pins and needles as the line rings.
"Hook, what the hell is going on, man? We all got a message from Brick earlier that we needed to get here. What happened?"A man with a gruff voice spoke the second he picked up the phone. It sounded like he had been smoking two packs of cigarettes a day for the last twenty years.