Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Delilah

Call it Stockholm syndrome, call it whatever you darn well please, but I’m on cloud nine walking into the bar with Raider. His hand is settled right on top of my backside, like he owns me. At the intersection, he stopped to bend down and kiss my cheek. I’m fluttering up a storm in my stomach thinking about spending time with him. Not to mention what comes later. Judging from the bulge he’s sporting, I’m guessing it won’t be long before my ankles are back up around my ears.

As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, he swats my bottom, then rubs the stinging spot with his big, meaty mitt, adding a grunt for good measure. Good lord, the giant is growing on me. Fast. Too fast?

The way I was raised, I had no option but to be independent. I plan to keep it that way, but there’s no law that says I can’t bask in the cherishing way this man treats me. It’s like trekking through a desert for eighteen years only to be placed in a hammock and served some lemonade. I’m not going to second guess my enjoyment of him. Of…us.

Can there be an us so soon? Raider doesn’t seem inclined to let me go any time soon, but if I’ve learned anything from watching my brother and his friends go through women like water, it’s that men can be fickle creatures. Raider doesn’t strike me as the type to change his mind once it’s made up, but I have to keep on guard.

Just in case.

When I pass through the door Raider is holding for me and get a good look at the restaurant, a touch of my excitement dims. It’s the restaurant equivalent of the neighborhood we were in last night—dingy, dark and full of dickheads. I’ve begun to grow accustomed to Raider’s size and general scariness, so it takes me a moment to realize why the whole establishment goes silent when we walk in. They’re ogling him, as if he escaped from the circus, some of the men at the bar going so far as to point.

Pumping my backbone full of steel, I send the rude patrons a scowl and take Raider’s hand, leading him to a booth in plain view of the bar. It’s still dark—the whole place feels bathed in nighttime—but it’s not hidden in the least.

Behind me, he clears his throat. “Wouldn’t you rather sit in back?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine right here.”

A waitress comes over with a couple of menus, acting like she’s heading for the gallows, before standing with her head bowed meekly over her pad. “Uh. G-get you folks anything?”

I lift my chin. “Whiskey for me, please. Neat.”

Raider lets his displeasure over my illegal order show on his frowning face, but I widen my eyes to keep him from commenting that I’m not old enough for liquor. “Coke for me. I’m driving,” he mutters. “Burgers sound good?”

“Yes, please. One for me. Five for him,” I answer, giving the waitress my sweetest smile. “He’s a growing boy.”

She turns on a heel and disappears into the kitchen so fast, I start to giggle. And then something incredible happens. Raider laughs, too. It’s nothing more than a rusty rumble tumbling around in his chest, but it makes him beautiful for a brief flickering moment, before his face rests back into its grimace. Immediately, I want more of that laugh. Want it so bad, my stomach hurts.

“There’s only one good thing about people staring at me,” Raider says. “It means they’re not looking at you.”

“Don’t pay them any attention.” I turn my head toward the bar and stick out my tongue. “They’re just jealous that you’ll know when it’s raining ten seconds before they do.”

His lips twitch, but his eyes start to look a little sad. “You were scared when you first saw me.”

Beneath the table, I kick off my ballet flat and rub his shin with my bare foot. “That’s before I knew how gentle you could be.”

“Gentle doesn’t call for ice packs, doll.”

I reach his knee and slide my foot into his lap. “Your type of gentle does.”

He catches my foot and rubs a thumb along my arch, slow and sensual, so it catches me off guard when his fist locks around my ankle in a firm grip. “For a long time I was locked inside a place where manners don’t exist, Delilah. Please, don’t tempt the beast. He’s right below the surface wanting to play daddy.”

Heat gathers in my tummy, running down along the insides of my thighs, but the dark plea in his expression makes me take my foot back, sliding it into my shoe once more. It dawns on me that he doesn’t want to make a scene. Especially in a room full of people who already made him feel on display. That realization makes my heart ache for him. “Earlier you called your Pontiac GTO a she.” The waitress returns, setting down our drinks, and I take a long, burning sip of whiskey, handily ignoring Raider’s disapproval. “It sounds like you two are in a serious relationship. Should I be jealous?”

“You’ll never spend one goddamn second jealous while I’m your man.” He pauses, as if wanting that statement to sink in…and boy, does it. Right down to my toes. “My Pontiac. Yeah, she’s a beauty. Red leather interior. A convertible, which means my big ass fits inside.”

Hearing his voice warm with enthusiasm, seeing his green eyes sparkle, is showing me a whole new side to Raider. A side I like a lot. “You going to give me a ride in it?”

“Of course.” He nods once and glances away. “If I decide to keep her.”

“Why would you sell a car you love so much?”

“Money.” The scars on his cheek pull taut. “I planned to use the money your brother was holding to open a garage. Classic car repairs. Detailing.” He shrugs. “Might have to sell the Pontiac instead. I’ve already got offers, but I’ve been turning them down.”

“Roger will—” Automatically, I start to say my brother will come through with the cash, but I cut myself off. Because if my brother does cough up the money, I’ll no longer be considered collateral. My relationship with Raider will be based on free will. What will happen then? Moreover, what will happen if Roger doesn’t make the deadline? Will Raider keep me forever…or is this temporary, just like every other relationship I’ve ever been around?

I start to change the subject, but a group of four men walks into the bar. Right away, I know something is odd about their arrival. When they trade looks with the bartender, who nods in our direction, my theory is proven correct. Raider sees it happen, too, but merely watches from beneath hooded eyelids as the newcomers take a seat near us, leaning back in their chairs like they’re paying a social call. And they stare from beneath the brims of their trucker hats. Right at us. There’s a tick in Raider’s cheek that seems to match my rapidly increasing heartbeat. Scratchy honky-tonk music wails from an old jukebox, but not a soul is saying a word.

So I decide it’s my job. “You want to take a picture, assholes?”

“Delilah.” Raider’s voice is firm. “Come over here by me.”

I stand to do as he says, but the four men stand at the same time. “Now, hold on one second, little lady.” Raider starts to growl, and the speaker flinches, one hand disappearing to the back of his waistband. “We’re just here on behalf of a few concerned souls. If you’re in trouble or this fella is keeping you against your will, just let us know and we’ll handle it.”

“Like fuck you will,” Raider intones darkly, turning the force of his violent stare on the men. “I’m only giving you one warning to stop speaking to her.”

I’m so stunned by what’s happening that I have to shake myself. “Hey. Wait a damn minute. I’m with him because I want to be.”

Two of the men snicker, the other two shaking their heads. “Now you can’t expect me to believe…” The speaker’s attention drops to my legs, roving lazily higher to my breasts. “A pretty little thing like you took up with him of your own free will. We’re trying to help. Just come on along with us—”

“Mine.” Raider’s fist comes down so hard on the table, it splits straight down the center, sending wood crashing to the floor. And out come the guns. Four of them. Pointed right at Raider. “I warned you.”

“No! No, wait.” Raider looks determined to walk straight into the line of fire in order to get his hands on those men. I have a pretty high suspicion Raider could survive a few bullets and take on those four pencil dicks, but I’m not chancing it. No, I can’t let him get hurt. Nor can I let their terrible judgment of him stand. So he’s huge and terrifying! He should still be able to have a burger and a Coke in peace.

I don’t have time to come up with a master plan, so I do what comes instinctively to convince these men I’m truly not being held captive by Raider. Stepping over the ruined lumber, I close the distance between myself and Raider, where he’s just beginning to rise from his seat.

I straddle his lap, lock my legs up around his impossibly broad waist…and I go for broke kissing him.