Chapter 4

Danielle

"What's wrong with Maverick?"

"Only a pussy would ever go by Maverick."

"What if that's the name his parents gave him?" I challenged.

"Then, if he weren't a pussy, he'd change it."

I bit back a smile. "I won't tell Maverick's mom you said that."

"You know a Maverick?" he asked.

I nodded. "He's one of my kids. I teach kindergarten."

"Fuck me. Of course you do," he grumbled, and pulled onto the freeway.

I gathered my purse close to me again. For some reason, the fact he didn't seem to like my choice of employment bothered me. It shouldn't. He didn't know me, and he was probably a criminal for Pete's sake, but I was the one who felt embarrassed.

"What's your group's name?" I soldiered on, my inability to stay silent when I was nervous working against me.

"My group?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Your club. Whatever."

He studied the road again. "Dogs of Fire."

"Why did you pick that?" I asked.

"I didn't."

"Why did your group... I mean, club, pick that?"

Booker shrugged. "Don't know."

"You don't know why they picked it?" I studied his profile and saw his jaw lock. "Sorry, not my business."

He neither agreed nor disagreed.

"Do you need my address?" I was unbelievably desperate for conversation, apparently.

"I have it."

"Right," I mumbled. Of course he did. I'd written it down for him. I studied him again. God, he was beautiful. I licked my lips and focused back on the road. "So, do you work at Big Ernie's?"

"Sometimes."

"So, it's not your regular job?"

"No."

"You're obviously not a mechanic," I mused.

"Why do you say that?"

"You're too clean," I blurted out. "I mean, your hands aren't caked with black oil and stuff. Sorry. Never mind. It's none of my business."

He chuckled.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"You don't like silence, do you?"

"I like silence... just not when I'm nervous. Crap. Never mind. Ignore me."

"Babe, I've been trying to ignore you since the second I saw your piece of shit car crawling down my street," he said.

I gasped, my irritation rising to dance with my nerves. "Well, you didn't need to come and rescue me. I didn't ask you to." He chuckled again and I blinked back tears, feeling both angry and insecure at the same time. "I'm sorry if my talking bugged you. I was just trying to be friendly," I continued, because, seriously, I was obviously a glutton for punishment. "It's what nice people do when other people help them. They ask them about their life and find common ground in an effort to make conversation."

"Is that what they do?" he asked.

"Typically, yes," I whispered, and turned toward the window.

I managed to keep my thoughts to myself as we drove into Hazel Dell and down the private driveway into my apartment complex. Not the greatest part of town, but also not the worst. It was what I could afford and it worked for me now.

"This is me," I said, pointing to the stairway that led to my second-floor unit.

He nodded. "I'll walk you up."

"You don't need to do that."

"I know," he said, and climbed out of the truck.

Gathering my purse, I pulled my jacket closer around me and pushed open the door. Booker stood on the other side and, again, waited for me before closing the door and walking me upstairs. I unlocked my apartment door and pushed it open, flipping the light on before stepping inside.

"Thank you for everything," I said.

"I'll call you tomorrow or Friday about your car."

Crap, right. I was going to have to pay for my stupid car to be fixed. "Yes. Um, I forgot to ask. Do you take credit cards?"

He frowned, but then nodded his head. "Yeah, babe, we take credit cards."

I relaxed. "Okay, good. Thank you. Well, it was nice to meet you, Austin. Thanks again for everything."

He gave me a chin lift in response and turned and sauntered down the stairs. I know for a fact he sauntered, because I leaned out my front door and watched him leave. His long, muscular legs and perfect butt made me sigh, and I realized he probably heard me, so I ducked back inside and closed and locked my door, leaning against it to catch my breath.

Booker

I was fucked. Royally fucked. The second I saw the pretty little blonde trying to force her car down the street, I'd known I'd help her. Couldn't really stop myself. She was gorgeous. Petite, curvy, big tits, nice ass, and she smelled incredible, but it was the glasses that sent me over the edge. I could envision her in thigh-highs, pearls, and those glasses while she straddled and rode me.

When I'd coaxed her out of her car and she'd started talking, her obvious sense of humor showing even though she was terrified, I'd watched in fascination as every emotion she was feeling showed on her face in real time. I couldn't remember ever meeting a woman more beautiful... and fucking innocent. Kindergarten teacher and daughter of the chief of police. Shit.

I dialed Mack's number and then started my truck.

"Yo."

"You got the car over to Hatch's?" I asked.

Hatch Wallace was our Sergeant at Arms and owned his own shop close by. We took all of our more difficult jobs to him because he was a genius with engines.

"Yeah," Mack said. "It's fucked up. Might need to rebuild the engine."

"Shit." I headed onto the freeway. "I'll be there in twenty."

I hung up and stared out at the road in front of me trying to figure out how the hell I was gonna get out of this, and whether or not I really wanted to.