“You can’t give me a car,” I informed him.

“No? Weird. Just did.”

I stared at him then asked, “Is this because of the dogtags?”

His head jerked to the side. “Babe, seriously?”

Truth be told, that was a stupid question. He’d been working on that car for ages. When he decided to give it to me, I didn’t know. I just knew it wasn’t this morning.

I looked down at the car.

Seriously, it was kickass.

So who cared when he decided to give it to me?

“Just gave you a car, Red, you got nothin’ for me?” Tack asked and my eyes went back to all that was him. Kane “Tack” Allen standing in faded jeans, a tight white tee, tats visible, hair messy, goatee overlong, stubble on his cheeks he didn’t bother shaving that morning, lines radiating out the sides of his eyes, eyes that were so blue they could be used on a color wheel.

God, he was beautiful.

Every way he could be.

“Yes,” I replied. “I have something for you.”

Then I turned and in my tight skirt, on my high-heeled pumps I walked back to my office. Once there, I dropped the keys to my new car on my desk, closed the blinds and locked the front door. As I was locking the front door, Tack came through the door to the garage. Once he was through, he put his hands to his hips. I moved to him, my eyes never leaving his, his chin dipping down so his wouldn’t leave mine. I got close, reached beyond him and locked that too. Then I snapped the blinds on that door closed.

Then I turned and walked to my desk. I stopped there, turned toward him and, lifting my gaze to his, I shimmied my skirt up my hips.

I watched Tack’s eyes drop to my hips and flare.

Then I shoved my thumbs into the sides of my panties and shimmied them down until gravity took over and they fell to my ankles.

I had just stepped out of them when my back was to the desk, Tack’s hips were between my legs, his torso was pressed to mine and his tongue was in my mouth.

Halfway through, Tack grunted against my lips, “Told you you were wild.”

To which I gasped against his, “Shut up, handsome, and fuck me.”

“Thought that was what I was doin’,” he remarked and he was not wrong.

My fingers slid up in his hair and I breathed, “Harder.”

“Wild,” he muttered.

Whatever.

He gave it to me harder that was all I cared about.

I didn’t know if the noise in the garage drowned us out.

I did know it got heated and the phone crashed to the floor and broke.

And I also knew I didn’t care about either.

* * *

After Tack fucked me on my desk, I took my new baby out for a test drive.

When I drove back into Ride, I saw Tack walking out of one of the bays.

After I parked and walked to him, I put my hands to his chest, leaned into him and got up on my toes.

In position, I smiled huge and whispered, “You’re right, honey, wild and sweet, she purrs like a kitten and snarls like a bitch.”

“I take it you like her.”

One of my hands slid up into the back of his hair and I didn’t answer with words.

But I did use my mouth when I answered.

* * *

Two hours later, Dog pushed out of the chair opposite my desk and headed to the door, saying, “Catch ya, later.”

“Later, Dog,” I called.

“Later, brother,” Hop, lounging on my couch, said.

Dog walked out.

Dog and Hop had been in my office the last half hour, shooting the shit.

Now only Hop was in my office and I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. It had been a while since all that happened went down but I’d never been alone with him so I could deal when I was around him. Now I was alone with him.

“Cherry,” he called.

“Unh-hunh?” I asked my computer screen, my back to him.

“Babe, can you look at me?”

This was voiced soft and it was a little surprising. Hop wasn’t a soft kind of guy. He could have a laugh, he could tease but there was an edge to him the other guys didn’t have. Or, I should say, they all had edges. It was just that Hop’s was edgier.

And, on a biker, that was saying something.

Him voicing this request softly was also a little worrying.

Still, I did as he asked and when I swiveled my chair his way, I found he was no longer lounging, back to my couch. He was sitting, elbows to his knees, leaned toward me.

Oh boy.

Hop had black hair and a black mustache that ran along his upper lip, thick down the sides of his mouth and grew thicker and a bit long at the sides of his chin. He worked what would likely look ridiculous on anyone else because he had full lips, a strong jaw, fantastic cheekbones and great gray eyes that had lines radiating out of the sides of them like Tack’s.

Oh, and he was a biker and that was the biker mustache to end all biker mustaches.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Shoulda never left you at the mercy of BeeBee.”

I knew this was what this was about.

“Hop –”

“My defense, gorgeous, didn’t think the bitch was that stupid. Maybe dumb enough to mouth off to one of the other old ladies. Tack’s woman? That’s a whole new brand of stupid.”

I couldn’t argue that.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” I told him.

“I left you out there, pissed Tack off and he got in my face about it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said quickly, he lifted a hand and shook his head.

“I deserved it, Cherry.”

“I –”

“I did,” he stressed, dropping his hand. “Most ‘a the other women could hold their own against that bitch. You, I saw you come out while I was takin’ off, knew she was in there, shoulda known better.”

I smiled at him. “I think I proved that very night that I can take care of myself.”

Hop didn’t smile. “Women got different weapons and they’re sharper and more lethal.”

I couldn’t argue that either.

Hop continued, “She’s gone, won’t happen again but still, what I wanna say is, it won’t happen again. Way you are with Tack, way you took care ‘a Tabby’s business, the brothers got your back.”

I felt goose bumps rise on my skin. The good kind.

I’d earned their respect.

I knew this after brats and potato salad.

It was just good to have it confirmed.

“Does Tack talk about me?” I asked.

“No, though he’s my brother so even if he did I wouldn’t tell you,” Hop answered, taking the sting out of his words by grinning at me.

“Then I’ll tell you, I can’t do sweet.”

“Come again, gorgeous?”

“I can’t do sweet,” I informed him. “So don’t be sweet unless you want me to burst into tears or something.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” he said, still grinning.

“Treat me like the badass I am,” I ordered and his grin became a smile.

“That, I know.”

My head tipped to the side at his words. “Pardon?”

“That, I know. Won’t say how I know but let’s just say I know you’re bossy.”

I knew how he knew. He was full of shit. Tack talked.

I rolled my eyes.

Then I rolled them back and bossed, “So are you going to treat me like the badass I am?”

“You got it, Cherry,” he said through his still smiling lips but he barely got it said when his smile cleared, his brows shot together, his head whipped around, his torso jerked up and he leaned into the window to peer out the blinds.

Suddenly, he was on his feet, his hand to his back pocket pulling out his phone.

“What –?” I started but he stretched his other hand out to me.

“Stay there.”

Oh hell.

Hop strode to the door but it flew open before he could get there and Naomi stormed through.

Oh hell!

“Where is that motherfucker?” she shrieked.

Hop had his phone to his ear and his body between me and Naomi.

“Calm down, woman, and step outside,” he growled at Naomi.

“Fuck you!” she screeched.

“Tack,” Hop said into his phone. “Please, God, brother, be close. I’m in the office at the garage. Your old bitch is here and your old lady is also here.”

Naomi leaned to the side and pointed at me around Hop’s long, lean, jeans and tee clad body, shouting, “He gets his ass here, I’ll deal with him. Then I’ll deal with you, you cunt!”

My body jerked back in my chair at that surprising, harsh and totally uncalled for insult but Naomi was gone. This was because Hop had his hand in her chest. He reached around her and opened the door then he shoved her through and closed it.

I stared at the closed door.

“Oh no,” I whispered to it as I slowly stood, vaguely hearing Naomi’s shrieking outside. “Hell no.”

I stomped to the door, threw it open, stomped to the top landing and stared down where Hop and Naomi were at the bottom of the steps.

“What did you just call me?” I asked.

“Oh fuck,” Hop muttered.

“Cunt!” Naomi screeched, eyes slicing up to me.

The pressure in my head exploded and I stomped down the steps.

“Oh fuck,” Hop said, louder this time.

“That’s it, bitch, in your fancy-ass skirt with your fancy-ass shoes, you think you can take me?” Naomi asked.

She was rolling from foot to foot, hands up, fingers wiggling at me in a “bring it on” gesture even though Hop still had his hand in her chest and kept pushing off on it, shoving her back step by step as I advanced, my high heels clicking loud.

“You just called me the c-word,” I stated.

I heard the quick beat of running motorcycle boots and vaguely sensed mechanics and body shop guys coming out of the garage but I had my target in my sights.