Chapter Fifteen

**Tempest**
All day I’ve been aching at work to go home and paint but by the time I’ve finished, the sun is setting and Devon is dressed in a tailored suit, ready for the evening of poker.

“You look dapper.” I grin at him as he walks me to his car.

“You look sweaty.”

“Thanks,” I reply, rolling my eyes but I haven’t lost my smile. “I hope you win.”

“If I win, I’ll take you to that new dessert shop you and Fidget were squawking about all day today to anyone who will listen,” he promises.

Fidget is another really sweet woman who works for him, she’s obsessed with anything chocolate and anything cake. I’m more obsessed with ice cream but I’m extremely careful when I eat it; I get the worst brain freeze and the biggest thighs. I don’t know her real name, just that everybody calls her Fidget because she can’t sit still. She’s the only person exempt from working at the checkout for this very reason.

“Heck, seeing you smile like that, I’ll take you anyway.” He chuckles and I don’t know what to say so I don’t say anything.

He turns on the radio and we begin the journey home.

As promised, when we get there, I go straight to my room and frown when I see paper bags, from a multitude of stores sitting on the bed.

There’s a note propped up against them which I unfold carefully and read:

*“Dad’s personal shopper picked out a few things for you. Anything you don’t like/doesn’t fit we can return.

X

Mad”*

Maddox bought me new clothes?

He said he would but I had assumed we’d go to a local bargain store and I’d dig through their messy racks until I found something wearable. The clothing in these bags cost more than I could earn in a year.

I’m equal parts annoyed and happy. I try to push the annoyance down but I don’t want to feel indebted to him more than I am already. It’s bad enough his father just bought me all of those expensive paints and pencils and books and canvases…

Now this?

I feel like such a charity case.

Tempest: Thank you for the clothes but they’re too much. We have to take them back and we’ll go to Target or something…

Maddox: My dad insisted. The washing machine turned half of your shit pink. Take it while he’s in a good mood and then hock them for spending money when we go to England.

I laugh at that and shake my head as I dare to peek into bag number one. I can’t help but squeal as a flutter of excitement crashed through my veins as I pull out a gorgeous, gray, lace summer dress. I try it on and when I know it fits, I hang it up in my closet and move on.

The next bag has more summer outfits, denim shorts, waist high and hip huggers, T-Shirts, vests, all things I already wear, just fancier versions. He hasn’t tried to change my look. He’s only given me a variety and I love that.

Except the last few boxes and bags which are full of at least five different sets of underwear.

I dive into the shower and scrub my body before daring to don a black, lace, satin thong-bra-stockings set with matching suspenders that sits on the waist.

I stare at myself in the mirror, biting my lip as I take in my appearance.

I feel incredible. It fits so well and looks amazing. I’ve never had a bra that fits better than this. I don’t ever want to take it off.

When I turn off the light so I can take a selfie in the mirror, with only the moonlight highlighting my figure, I see an odd shape at the edge of my humongous window.

When I narrow my eyes to get a better look, a flash of teeth smile at me and dark eyes drag over my image. He lifts something that glints in the moonlight and taps it against the glass.

Still staring at the knife-wielding shadow, I scream and move to the door but it flies open and I collide with a strong chest.

Sargent holds me against him as somebody else enters my bedroom with a gun drawn.

“There’s a man!” I panic, pointing at the window where the shadow was. “He had a knife, he was standing right there, just looking at me.”

“Dev,” Sargent yells, “get my gun, search the area.”

“On it,” I hear him call from the distance.

As my panic subsides I remember my state of undress and feel eyes on me belonging to the man who entered my bedroom with his gun drawn. He’s tall and I wonder what’s in the water around here to make men this big. He’s muscly, humongous, even. He has tattoos from his jaw down and I can see the shape of one under his eye but I can’t make it out in the dark.

Sargent wraps me in the blanket from my bed, covering my body.

“Avert your eyes, Stone,” Sargent snarls at him. “Everybody get the fuck out.”

The man in question nods his handsome head but touches my shoulder with a finger as he passes, dragging it over the bare skin.

“Stone,” Sargent warns and I watch the man tuck his gun into the back of his jeans and tug down on the bottom of his leather cut. It has an emblem on it, a twisted skull of some kind of animal and the words, “Soulless Jackal” printed around it.

He’s a biker. I’ve never met a biker before but I’ve seen enough on TV to know to be wary.

“Are you alright?” Sargent asks, gripping my shoulders and looking me up and down.

I nod. “I am so sorry for bothering you. I just freaked. I was trying on the clothes and the light was on so I don’t even know how long he was there for. What if he got pictures?”

“It’s okay,” he assures me, setting me on the bed and kicking an empty bag out of the way. “Did you see what he looked like?”

I shake my head. “Not exactly. I mean…” I rack my brain, seeing him standing there… “I was too busy focusing on the knife. It was huge. He kept tapping it against the window like he wanted me to see him.”

I wrap my arms around his waist, standing again, and press my face into his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, kissing my hairline. “You’re safe.”

My adrenaline slowly subsides but only to a less erratic level.

I reach up, hook him around the back of his neck and push my lips onto his.

He seems taken aback for a moment, but then, as the blanket drops, he grips my rear with both hands and pulls me toward him. I feel him grow against my hip as his tongue dips into my mouth, tasting me.

Turning, he pushes me against the closed door and hooks my leg over his arm, moaning when his length pushes against my tingling mound.

“We don’t have time,” he breathes, pulling back and cupping my jaw with his large hand. “I’ve got a poker game to win.” His lips trail down my neck. “You have no idea how sexy you look right now.” His fingertip trails over the seam of my bra. “Keep this on and I’ll sneak in later.”

“What about that man?” I ask, looking at the window again but seeing nobody there.

“Don’t worry, whoever he is has likely been frightened off. If you’re scared, get dressed and go up to my room.” He runs his thumb over my lower lip. “I’ll try to get this over and done with as quickly as I can.”

I nod and pull away from him, grab the gray dress and slip it over my head, then I follow him barefoot to the dining area where three men are standing with the doors wide open. Devon returns and shakes his head at Sargent who sighs.

“Footprints but no sign of him.”

“He won’t be back,” Stone assures us, glancing at me. When he catches me looking, he winks and Sargent pulls me behind him as he steps forwards. “Not while we’re here.”

I move to the stairs, keeping my head down, when Stone’s hand reaches out and he grabs my bicep.

“Are you not going to introduce us?” he asks Sargent as he looks at me with curious eyes. His long, dark beard surrounds curving lips and surprisingly nice teeth. There’s a curiosity in his eyes that makes me feel as naked as I was when he burst into my room.

“No,” Sargent replies and Stone’s hand tightens on my arm, only slightly, it doesn’t hurt but it does tell me I’m not going to be able to escape.

“Perhaps she’ll introduce herself?” He grins, raising a dark brow.

I wet my lips and his eyes move there. “I’m Tempest.”

“Tempest?” He tests my name and his grin broadens. “I like that, a name fit for a biker, or an old lady.”

“Stone,” Sargent warns and Stone chuckles but still doesn’t release me. The other men watch on, interested by the exchange. They’re all wearing the same cut as Stone, all but one. Devon shifts on the spot by the open doors, he looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

“And why are you here, Tempest?”

“I’m visiting, from England.”

“That explains the accent, though I had thought you were Australian for a minute there.” He chuckles and nods to Sargent. “You his?”

“Sorry?”

He gives my bicep a little shake. “I said, are you his?”

“No,” I reply quickly.

His smile broadens. “You his son’s?”

“I’m just a friend of the family.”

“She’s mine,” Sargent snaps, yanking me backwards and into his chest. I slam against him with an oomph.

“She doesn’t seem to think so.” He raises a challenging brow. “You fucked him? Bet you’re a good fuck. You got that look about you. Raise hell with a body like yours.”

“Stone,” the man in the suit warns. “Perhaps pissing off Mr. Wolf is not in the best interests of the club at this point.”

“I’m just playin’!” Stone declares to the room and moves away. “Speaking of playing, have you ever watched a live match of poker?”

“I’ve had enough excitement…”

“Sit your sweet ass down and watch me take your man’s money.”

Sargent curses under his breath and everybody returns to the table where a fresh deck of cards is shuffled, cut, shuffled, cut, and then dealt.