Unlawfully Yours (Lawless MC #1)

15

When I woke up this morning, I had this sick feeling churning in my stomach, a sense of foreboding as if today was going to be a shitty day, and it’s not even eight a.m. before that feeling becomes my reality.

Today of all days, my fucking car decided it wasn’t going start, and not knowing a single thing about cars, it usually means I’m fucked.

After walking to work, I spend the first hour writing up my formal statement about what happened yesterday, detailing everything up until the point Kit was put in the back of the ambulance. The van that was used in the shooting was found this morning dumped in a neighbouring county, burned out with not a single trace of who was driving it. The plates were fake, so the most crucial piece of information is now worthless and we’re right back to square one.

“Walker wants to see you in his office, Adams,” Matthews, one of the other officers who I haven’t had much to do with tells me as he passes by my desk.

“Okay, thanks.” It must be about what happened yesterday, there’s no other reason. Rising from my seat I head towards his office, rapping on the frosted glass window on his door.

“Come in,” he calls from the other side. His eyes lift when I enter. “Take a seat, Adams.”

I drop into the chair opposite him.

“I’ve heard about your actions yesterday. They were heroic. You did a commendable thing yesterday and because of you, Kit Lawson is alive. Well done, Allison. You did all of us here proud.”

Wow . I’m stunned. “Thank you, Sir. I’ve just finished writing my full account of what happened. The sooner we find who did this, the better.”

“Agreed, and we will. You have proven yourself a great asset to this station. I would like you out on patrol more. I’m pairing you with Eaton permanently, you make a good team from what I’ve seen.”

“I appreciate that, Sir. I’d love nothing more than be out in the community.”

“Glad to hear it, now you and Eaton go out there and provide some reassurance to the town that yesterday’s events will not be repeated. You’re excused, Officer.”

“Thank you.”

I leave his office and head towards my desk where Ryan is perched on the edge wearing a wide smile. “I hear we’re officially partners now, Walker called me in before you. I must have some angels up there looking down over me.”

“Don’t get too excited.”

“Is it true about the Lawson kid?” Ryan asks as we head out of the station.

“Yeah. I went to the hospital with Killian Hunt to see if he was going to be okay. Suffice it to say, Myles Lawson wasn’t best pleased to see me there.”

“What? Even after you saved his son’s life?”

“Apparently I didn’t do enough. He more or less said I let it happen.”

My stomach twists as the memory of all the awful things he said. Just when I think I might be wrong about him, that despite the patch he wears on his back, he might actually be a decent guy, he goes and says something as cruel as he did yesterday.

I hate him, but I wish it was that simple, because there’s a tiny part of me that doesn’t hate him at all, and I hate that even more.

It’s late when I get home. I flick the lock on the front door and sigh, leaning my forehead against the cool hardwood surface.

Thank fuck today is nearly over. I’m in desperate need of a glass of wine, or the whole bottle and a long candle-lit soak in my bath tub.

I head through the hall towards the living room. Switching on the light I jump out of my skin when I see Myles slouching on my armchair. “Jesus Christ!”

“Nah, just me, pix.”

I place a hand on my chest to calm my erratic heart. “What the fuck are you doing in my house? How did you get in?”

“Picked the lock. For saying you’re a cop, your home security is severely lacking, a five year-old could’ve picked that lock as easily as I did.”

He looks like he hasn’t slept in forever, but who could blame him? His dark brown hair is unrulier than usual, his eyes heavy-lidded. He’s wearing the same clothes he was in yesterday when I saw him at the hospital, a tight white t-shirt, dark blue jeans and his kutte hanging around his shoulders. His big black biker boots are perched on my coffee table, surrounded by discarded beer bottles from my fridge.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home,” I say, inclining my head to the half-empty beer bottle in his hand that dangles off the arm of the chair and the two bottles below it on the floor.

“Been waiting for you for a while. Saw your car out front, assumed you’d be home.”

I shrug off my jacket and drape it over the chair beside me. “I’m sorry to disappoint but I’m not in the mood for round two with you, so if that’s what you’ve come for, you can just leave.” The last thing I want or need right now is another argument or to hear him tell me how I failed his son yesterday despite doing everything I possibly could to help him. I don’t have the energy, nor the fight in me tonight.

I move through the room, my leg brushing his knee as I step past the chair, and before I manage to reach the kitchen, two strong hands grip my waist. I’m spun around, my back colliding with the wall as Myles closes in on me.

My heart skips a beat as I crane my neck up to meet his gaze, those piercing blue eyes that cut through me like a knife at the hospital yesterday are now soft as they peer down at me. I can smell the beer on his breath but he doesn’t appear to be too drunk, not yet , anyway.

Almost every part of me wants to knee him in the balls or push him off me, but there’s a tiny, traitorous part that likes him this close, so close I can smell the musky, sandalwood cologne clinging to his skin, feel the warmth of his breath across my face which is only a few inches away from mine.

“What are you doing here, Myles?” I ask him for the second time.

He squeezes my waist with one hand while he rests his forearm against the wall beside my head with the other, drawing his face even closer. “Honestly? I have no fucking clue. I just got on my bike and found myself here.”

“How did you know where I live?”

He shrugs. “Might have followed you home one time.”

I’m not sure if I should be comforted or creeped out by that statement. “When?”

“The night at my bar, you took off into the night alone, I wanted to know you got home safe so I followed you.”

The warmth that spreads through my body is a reaction I wasn’t expecting and I see only sincerity in his eyes as he peers down at me.

“And there’s me thinking you hated me.”

The hand on my waist begins to wander, the brush of his fingers as they trail up and down my side have goose bumps erupting on my skin.

His gaze drops to my lips briefly before returning to my eyes. “If I hated you, I wouldn’t be standing here thinking how much I want to kiss you.”

I swallow hard as my own eyes dip to his mouth, unable to stop my mind from wondering the same thing.

He leans in and my breath hitches in my throat, desire rippling through me as the thought of him kissing me consumes me, but I can’t let that happen, no matter how much I think I might enjoy it.

As his mouth descends on mine, I turn my face at the last second and his mouth lands on my cheek. “That can’t happen.”

He pushes off the wall, rejection taking over his features. “Because you’re so much better than someone like me?”

“I didn’t say that.” I sigh.

“You didn’t have to,” he shoots back.

“I’m not doing this with you again, Myles.” I go to push past him but he blocks me.

“I’m sorry, I—” He presses his forehead to mine, the simplest of touches has my belly doing flips. “ Fuck …” He pulls back, moving over to the sofa where he sinks into the plush cushion. He leans forward on his elbows while he scrubs a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. I came to apologise.”

“You did?”

He nods. “For all the shit I said to you yesterday. I know you did everything you could to help Kit. I’m sorry for blaming you. My head was all over the place, but that’s no excuse.”

I lower myself into the space beside him. “How is he doing?”

“Surgery went well. They gave him a blood transfusion and there’s no signs of an infection which is good. He’s awake and talking. He’s been asking for you.”

“For me?”

He smiles. “You’re his hero, he hasn’t stopped singing your praises since he woke up. Hell, neither as Killian.”

“I’ll drop in on him tomorrow after my shift, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.”

“And you? Are you okay, after everything?”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me.”

“I’m not pretending. Whether I like you or not, you’re a dad who almost lost his son yesterday. Everyone will be asking after Kit, and I doubt a single person has stopped to ask how you are.”

“I’ve never been so scared as I was yesterday. When Kill said he’d been shot… I thought that was it. Thought I’d lost him.”

“It’s one thing to lose a parent, that’s to be expected with life, but to lose a child is something else entirely. I can’t even begin to imagine that kind of pain…”

“He’s my entire world. Still remember the day he was born… Best day of my fucking life.” He smiles to himself, his mind casting him back in time for a brief moment. When his brain seems to kick in and he remembers where he is, his smile vanishes, almost as if he’s opening up to me too much, allowing himself to be too vulnerable. “Fuck, I should go.”

He sways a little when he stands and I reach to steady him. “You said you rode over here?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been drinking, you can’t ride like this.”

“I’ll be fine. Done it a thousand times before.”

He moves for the front door but I block his path. “I’m not letting you go. You’re well over the legal limit, not to mention you could wrap your bike around a tree and die.”

His eyes drop to mine. “Thought you’d be happy with that ending, at least then you’d be rid of me.”

“You might not be my favourite person in the world, but I wouldn’t wish you harm.”

“That your way of telling me you want me to spend the night?” His mouth spreads into a shit-eating grin.

“Trust me, I’d offer to drive you home myself to get you out of here but I’m having car trouble, so it looks like you’re spending the night, unless you want to walk all the way across town or one of your biker buddies can play taxi driver?”

He glances down at his watch. “Nah, they’ll all be drinking themselves under the table right about now. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

I force a smile. “Lucky me.”

He closes up the space between us, reaching for a tendril of hair and pushes it behind my ear and once again, all the air is sucked from my lungs like a vacuum.

“Allie…” He plays my name out on his lips, testing it out to see how it sounds. “It suits you.”

I can’t deny the tingle between my legs to hear the sound of my name fall from his mouth.

“At least you can start calling me by my name now.”

He gives his head a small shake. “Still gonna call you pixie, pix .”

“Why pixie?” I ask out of curiosity.

“Because you’re tiny but pack a punch and because you rock a pixie cut really fucking well.”

I comb my fingers through my hair to the ends that just brush my shoulder. “It’s a little long for a pixie cut, I wasn’t exactly going for the emo Tinkerbell look when I visited my hairdresser.”

He throws his head back and laughs and it’s a strangely addictive sound and I find myself laughing with him.

His eyes are filled with warmth when they return to mine. “You’re something else, pix,” he says admiringly and my belly flutters.

His eyes dip to my mouth for the second time tonight, but I clear my throat, deflecting. “I um… I was thinking of ordering some food. Italian good with you?”

He smiles. “It’s perfect.”

“So, you got a boyfriend, pix?” he probes before shoveling down a mouthful of pasta, breaking the uncomfortable silence that’s hung between us since we sat down to eat ten minutes ago.

The tension in the room is palpable, so thick that I can feel a sheen of sweat covering my forehead.

“If I did, do you really think you’d be in my house right now?”

“Do you always answer questions with another question?”

“Do you always ask questions that have nothing to do with you?” I shoot back.

He chuckles with a slight shake of his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re infuriating,” I say with an eye roll.

“And yet I’m still here. It was you who invited me to stay for dinner, remember?”

“There’s still time for me to kick you out on your ass, so watch it.”

I can’t hide the smile that tugs at my lips, enjoying the to and fro between us a little too much. But before I allow myself to become too comfortable in his presence, I rise from my chair and begin clearing the table. I’m not even sure he’s finished eating when I gather up his plate, and head to the kitchen.

I need some air.

I toss the plates and cutlery onto the counter and brace myself against it, taking a long, deep breath. Whenever I’m in the same room as him, I feel him slowly drawing me in like a magnet and I constantly have to catch myself before he reels me in further.

“Need a hand?” His voice startles me.

I glance over my shoulder to find him stood in the doorway behind me, my heart suddenly picking up speed. “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” I insist.

“Allie, let me help. ” He moves closer, his front brushing up against my back and I stiffen as he reaches around me and begins washing up the dishes.

I can feel the heat radiating of him, the musky masculine scent wafting into my nose.

“Go sit down, I’ll do this,” he says. I go to protest but he silences me with a look. “Don’t fight me, pix. You won’t win.”

Despite everything within me willing me to not give into him, I eventually concede, retreating into the living room while he cleans up the dishes.

He returns to the room a few minutes later and drops onto the couch beside me. “So what now? Watch a movie?” he suggests. “What’s that the kids are saying nowadays? Netflix and chill?”

I snort a laugh. “I don’t think Netflix and chill means what you think it means.”

His eyes collide with mine. “Oh, I know exactly what it means.” There’s a mischievous glint in his eye and I have to force my gaze away, killing that butterfly in my belly that flips with the thought of us doing that .

“I’m actually kinda tired,” I deflect, rising off the sofa. “I’m gonna head to bed. I’ll go grab you a pillow and some blankets.”

“I’m not sleeping with you?” he teases with a pout.

I force back a smile. “In your dreams, Lawson.”

He sighs heavily. “I guess my dreams will have to do then. For now ,” he adds before I disappear from the room.

I return to the living room a few minutes later armed with a pillow and a blanket. He’s shed his kutte and draped it over the back of the chair, his boots placed neatly at the side as he begins pulling his shirt over his head.

He’s facing away from me, unaware of my presence as I hover by the door and my gaze sweeps over him. His heavily muscled back ripples and flexes with every movement, his broad shoulders tapering down into a narrow waist. I shouldn’t be watching, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. He’s a canvas of art, his entire back is covered in tattoos from his shoulders all the way to the waistband of his jeans and beyond, barely a patch of skin untouched. It’s a collage of different colours and patterns, and right in the centre is the same image that is stitched into the leather of his kutte.

That damn skull.

“Enjoying the show, pix?”

His voice startles me and my eyes dart up to find him smirking over his shoulder before turning towards me fully.

Fucking hell, he’s ripped. Every valley, every dip of his washboard abs on display, not an inch of fat in sight. There’s a light dusting of hair on his chest and a matching slither of dark hair beneath his naval, disappearing under the waistband of his jeans.

“Eyes are up here, babe.”

My eyes snap to his and I toss him one of the pillows off my bed and a huge faux fur lined throw. “If you need anything to eat or drink, you can just help yourself, you seem to know your way around my kitchen.”

Before he can notice my cheeks are ablaze with embarrassment from getting caught checking him out, I turn back for the door.

“Hey, Allie,” he calls after me. “Thank you.”

The sincerity in his voice makes me smile and to hear him call me by my name instead of my nickname does something to me. “’Night.”

“Goodnight.”