Breaking Hearts [Smoky Mountain Motorcycles 2] (Siren Publishing Allure) Read online

  “I was wondering if you were going to sleep the day away,” a familiar voice said, and her breath left her in a long swish.

  “Bo! What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in? I know I locked the door. I even got up and rechecked it.” She knew she sounded crazy, but damn! Now that her fear was receding, her temper was rising. He’d scared the hell out of her.

  Instead of answering, Bo simply held the note she’d received last night. Well, hell, she’d known Gabe wouldn’t let it go, but she hadn’t thought he’d bring in Bo. Okay, well she’d hoped not anyway. She should have known better.

  Layla made a grab for the offensive paper, but Bo snatched it back.

  “This is serious, Layla,” he said as he stood. Thunder, who’d been sprawled on the couch next to him, rolled to his feet too. Between the man and dog, her little apartment seemed very crowded.

  “I am taking it serious,” she snapped, fighting the urge to take a step back from his overwhelming presence.

  “How? Let me guess, with your big, bad guard dog?”

  “Thunder could be intimidating if he wanted to be. Besides, I put a new dead bolt on the door too.”

  “Oh yeah, that kept me out.”

  “Hey, you don’t count! You’re like a super spy or something.”

  He laughed and she felt her fingers tingle with the urge to wipe the smile off his face. “You’ve been checking up on me.”

  “Your grandpa loves bragging on you at the nursing home. Can’t stop talking about his big, bad hero of a grandson.”

  Bo’s chest puffed out, and he got the biggest shit-eating grin. “Oh yeah, you’ve been checking up on me.”

  “Puh…lease!” she said, letting her eyes roll. “You wish.” She had. She couldn’t help it. Even when she tried not to, her ears still perked up at the mention of his name. Ten years and he still had the ability to turn her knees to jelly. Being near him was so dangerous. He had to go! Taking a deep breath, she moved to the door. “Okay, fine. I’ll get a better lock and talk to the sheriff again.” She opened the door but he didn’t budge. If anything, the look on his face got more stubborn.

  “The sheriff can’t do anything, and you know it. I don’t have the restrictions of the law to hold me back. I’m going to find this fucker and make him wish he’d never been born. No one messes with my…er…friend,” he said fiercely.

  “I don’t recall asking for your help,” she snapped, trying to cover up the sudden pounding of her heart. What had he started to say? She hadn’t missed the little slip, even if he’d tried to smoothly cover it up. He used to call her his girl, but that couldn’t possibly have been what he was going to say. Could it? He hadn’t called her that since the day they’d broken up, the day she’d caught him making out with another girl behind the gym.

  “And I don’t recall giving you an option. You got my help, like it or not.”

  “Argh! I don’t know what I ever saw in you. You always were a caveman!” She slammed the door shut, spinning away from him and the memories bombarding her.

  “Well get used to it. Until we figure out who this nutcase is, you’re stuck with me. And if I remember, you used to a see a lot in me and of me.” The last was said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

  Layla let out a strangled cry even as she flushed at the reminder of how intimate they used to be. Unbidden, the image of him gloriously naked came to her. He’d been much slimmer back then. Now that he was covered with a thick layer of muscle, he was downright mouthwatering. She couldn’t have him around twenty-four seven. There was no way her heart or her body could stand it. The scars were still there from the first time she’d tangled with him. “Bo, you can’t just force your way back into my life.” I won’t survive it.

  “Face it, Layla, I’m all you got, since your mom remarried and moved to Florida. Your grandmother’s in a nursing home. I’m as close to family as you’ve got.”

  That was a cold bucket of water on her quickly heating libido. “Oh, and thank you so much for pointing that out!” Her voice dripped with sarcasm even as her heart squeezed with pain because he was right. She was alone. She’d lost track of her dad long ago, and she wouldn’t ruin her mother’s newfound happiness. “It’s always good to be reminded of how alone I am.” Turning her back to him, she began to pull stuff from her kitchen cabinet. Damn it, she had cookies to make, she told herself. She didn’t have time to deal with him. And she didn’t have time to break down and let loose the tears that were clogging her throat.

  Bo sighed in obvious frustration. “I’m sorry, Layla. That didn’t come out right.” He ran a hand through his shaggy, golden hair. “But don’t fight me on this. You won’t win. I’m going to protect you.”

  She just scowled as she set the oven to preheat. Just ignore it! Just ignore him. He’s just being Southern. A Southern gentleman never left a lady in distress, and Bo might be a righteous bastard, but he was above all, a Southern gentleman.

  * * * *

  Bo pulled up a stool to the bar that separated her small living room from her even smaller kitchen. Looking around, he had to admire the place. It wasn’t big, but she’d done a lot to make it look warm and welcoming.

  When Gabe had showed up at his place last night with that damn wretched piece of paper, his heart had nearly jumped out of his chest. It was as if the last ten years hadn’t happened. She was still as much his as the day he’d taken her virginity all those years ago.

  Suddenly he had a purpose. He might not have been able to save his squad, but he’d be damned if anyone was going to mess with his girl. She might not want to acknowledge it, but she was his. All the lies and foolishness from high school didn’t matter. She always had been, always would be.

  He watched her with growing amusement. She reminded him of his pet cat he’d tried to give a bath when he was a kid. He almost expected her to spit and hiss at him. She whipped the butter and sugar mixture into a froth before adding the oatmeal and chocolate chips. He perked up at that.

  “What cha’ making?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant even as he could feel himself starting to drool. Did she even remember she was making his favorite cookies?

  Layla paused, her hand stilling over the bowl. Looking up, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Don’t go reading anything into it. These are for the gang at the nursing home. They have a birthday party on the first Sunday of each month, something you’d know if you ever visited your grandfather.”

  Bo scowled. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know, but she didn’t have to point it out. Damn it, she was right. He’d been avoiding his grandfather just like he avoided everyone else. He made himself take a deep inward breath, willing himself to calm down. It wasn’t her fault that he had issues. “So what time are we going to the party? We can stop on the way and get some chips and salsa. That’s my grandfather’s favorite.”

  She looked at him blankly for several seconds before answering. “You aren’t literally going to follow me every hour of every day, are you?”

  “Did you think I was joking? Besides, you’re right, I do need to go see my grandfather more.”

  He saw her mouth work and knew she was trying to think of a protest. Apparently nothing came to mind, because after several seconds, she clamped her mouth shut. He fought the urge to fist pump at the fact he’d managed to leave her speechless. That didn’t happen very often.

  Reaching forward, he attempted to grab one of the tempting balls of dough from the cookie sheet only to have his knuckles whacked with a wooden spoon.

  “Ouch! You didn’t used to be so mean,” he said, yanking his hand back and popping his prize into his mouth. His knuckles stung, but it was so worth the minor discomfort. No one made cookies like Layla.

  He caught her staring at him and stilled. “And you didn’t used to be right-handed,” she pointed out. Crap! He should have known Layla would catch that small detail. No one else had noticed that since he’d gotten back last year.

  He shrugged. “I hurt my hand and
had to learn to use my right hand.” But he could tell by the expression on her face that she wasn’t buying that simple explanation. Before he could guess her intention, she was around the counter and grabbing his left hand. She turned it over and her gasp of horror was like a kick in the gut. He yanked his hand away and shoved the mangled appendage in his pocket. The two twisted fingers and missing pinky were the least of his worries. The scars continued up his arm past his elbow and all over his body. He’d managed to rebuild the muscles, but he would never have the control in his hand that he used to. The nerves had been damaged too bad.

  He concentrated on the chipped laminate countertop, trying to ignore the heat radiating from her. It was dangerous being so close to her. Looking up, their eyes caught. He watched her chew her lip as if she was struggling to make a decision. Finally she yanked his hand from his pocket. Turning it over, she ran her fingers over the scarred flesh before bringing it to her lips and lightly raining kisses over the damaged flesh.

  Somewhere deep inside him, he felt something uncoil. It was small yet felt so good, like cool balm on a nasty burn. Her simple gesture and open acceptance healing him like nothing else ever could.

  “My cookies!” she cried, suddenly spinning, and he realized that the dinging he heard wasn’t just alarm bells in his head.

  * * * *

  He watched as she descended the stairs of her apartment, a big blond at her heels, followed by that damn dog. He should have confronted her by now, but demons were known for their hellhounds. Was it possible that she was so far gone in her sin that the devil would have sent one of his minions to protect her, and who was the blond man? A demon? He was beautiful and moved with a lethal grace. Demons were known to be enticingly beautiful. It made them more dangerous.

  Shuddering, he shrank down. He’d hoped that last night’s message would be the one to finally turn her from her sinful ways. He’d begged, ordered, and last night he’d threatened. How could she not see? If anything, she sank farther into her degradation.

  She didn’t want to see! He slammed his fist against the steering wheel of his car. It was time to show her he was serious.

  * * * *

  Layla was still laughing when she climbed out of her Jeep hours later. Bo had been a huge hit at the nursing home. Gladys and Wanda Filbert had taken turns dancing with him. She knew his poor rear end had to be sore from the numerous times they’d pinched it.

  “Laugh it up!” he groused, but she could tell he was trying not to smile. “I can’t believe you threw me to the wolves like that.”

  “Ah, come on. They just couldn’t resist a sweet young cub like you.”

  “Be that way. Next time I’ll leave you at the mercy of Wandering Hands Hanson.”

  Layla shuddered. Mr. Hanson was known for copping a feel whenever the opportunity presented itself. He’d tried to get her to dance with him several times, but Bo and his grandfather had skillfully intercepted him each time.

  His grandfather had thanked her over and over again for bringing him. It had been a wonderful afternoon filled with laughter and companionship. She had been amazed at how effortlessly she and Bo had slipped into an easy comradery. Now that the sun was setting and the day was winding down, she was surprised to realize that she didn’t want it to end.

  Still smiling, she was halfway up the steps to her apartment when she felt the change in Bo. He’d gone deathly still. Adding to the sudden tension, Thunder had dropped down, the thick fur on his neck standing up. He gave a low growl deep in his throat.

  “Easy, boy,” Bo said in a low, soothing voice. “You stay here and protect our lady.” He turned to Layla. “You stay here, do you understand me?”

  “Bo, what is it?” She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what had set them off.

  “Look at the door.”

  Following the line of his sight, she saw to her horror that the door was slightly ajar. Her heart leapt into her throat. “Bo, don’t you dare go up there!” she cried in a hoarse whisper.

  “I’m just going to check it out. You stay here.”

  “Are you crazy?” She grabbed his arms trying to pull him back. Thunder solved the problem, shooting past them and pushing the door open.

  “Thunder!” Layla cried in fear. She’d never forgive herself if anything happened to her sweet gentle giant.

  Bo broke away and followed the dog, pushing the door open and entering cautiously.

  Layla wrung her hands nervously for about thirty seconds before saying the hell with it and following them. She’d never been one of those women to just sit around and wait for a man to come and save her. She was used to taking care of herself.

  Standing in the doorway, she sucked in a breath. The place wasn’t trashed and her TV and laptop were still there and looked to be untouched. What caught her eyes and made her heart stop was what was written on the wall in dripping black spray paint. “WHORE!”

  Chapter Six

  Scowling, Bo shut the door behind the deputy. That had been as useless as he’d been afraid it would be. The deputy hadn’t seemed interested in figuring out who Layla’s crazy stalker was. Well, to be fair, it wasn’t that Deputy Braxton hadn’t been interested, so much as he really didn’t have a clue where to begin. Aurora Heights was a small town and Bo seriously doubted their requirements for deputy were very stringent. Fog the mirror and you’re hired. The young deputy had taken a report, asking all the required questions, but didn’t seem to really understand the information he was taking down or what to do with it.

  Turning, he watched Layla sitting numbly, staring at the graffiti on her wall. She’d answered the deputy’s questions in a monotone voice, her body stiff with shock. Thunder nosed her nervously, giving a little whine before looking back at him as if asking what was wrong with his mistress.

  Bo wasn’t sure what to do next, but he knew two things for certain. First, it was time to call in a few favors, and second, they were not staying here again. It wasn’t safe.

  “Go pack your bag. We’re staying at my place tonight.” He could start there. It would be much safer there. His security system was state-of-the-art and the location secure.

  Layla looked up at him blankly for a second before she came back to herself. She shook her head as if to clear it. “No,” she finally said. “I’m not letting this asshole drive me out of my own home. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am. I do agree with you though. Obviously I need better security. I’ll call and get information on having a security system installed tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll take care of installing your security system. Anything you get over the counter won’t be secure enough. I know how to set it up, and I have friends who will help me. But that’s tomorrow. For tonight, it’s not safe.”

  “Tonight, I’ll wedge a chair under the door or something. Besides, whoever this creep is, he has never been bold enough to try anything while I’m home. He always waits till I’m out of the apartment, so I’ll be fine. I’m not leaving!”

  “You are as hard-headed as they come,” he shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Don’t think I won’t throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”

  “Touch me and see if you don’t draw back a nub, you bossy bastard.” She jumped to her feet, and struck a mulish stance, her hand on one hip and her chin stuck out.

  Bo almost sighed with relief. Now this was the Layla he remembered, but that didn’t change his mind. She still wasn’t staying here. Taking matters into his own hands, he moved forward, tossing her over his shoulder. She immediately shrieked, beating his back with her small, balled fist. He knew he was grinning like a loon, but damn, she was a fiery handful. He was looking forward to tasting that fire.

  “Bogart Lawson, you put me down right now!”

  “No, Layla. You are sleeping at my house in my bed tonight. End of discussion.”

  He felt her suck in a breath as she went perfectly still. After a long moment where he figured she’d tell him to go to hell, she whispered a s
oft response.

  “You need to put me down so I can pack.” And just like that his jeans were suddenly several sizes too small.

  He moved, letting her slide down his body, the friction sweet torment. He groaned as the hot plumpness of her pussy slid down the thickening rod of his cock. The barrier of their jeans did nothing to hide the heat radiating between them.

  Her eyes met his and he knew without a doubt that she was as gone as he was. “This probably is a really bad idea,” she said, but the huskiness of her voice betrayed her.

  “I think this is the best idea either of us has had in a long time,” he countered, pressing himself into her. “Wrap your legs around me Layla. Let me feel how much you want me.” He nearly shouted in triumph as she did so without hesitation. She’d always been hot and eager. No woman had ever matched Layla, and now it was as if none of them had ever existed. Not one existed in his world but Layla. He wasn’t foolish enough to think either of them had been celibate in the last decade, but none of that mattered. In fact, that appealed to the freak in him. He wasn’t sure how closely he wanted to examine that, but the idea of reclaiming her pussy had him hard enough to pound nails.

  “Kiss me, Bo,” she pleaded eagerly, and he could no more refuse her than he could refuse his next breath. Cupping the firm roundness of her ass, he pressed her closer and let his lips brush hers. It was like coming home.

  * * * *

  Layla melted. There was no other word for the way kissing Bo felt. He’d always been a great kisser, seducing with his whole mouth, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. The difference now was there was no tentativeness in his kiss. This wasn’t the boy from high school’s tentative kiss. This was the kiss of a man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it.