Beneath These Chains (Page 4)

She shrugged. “Like you said—rich girl rebellion. Looking for a new way to piss off my mom and step-daddy.”

I sized her up. “Aren’t you a little old for rebellion at this point?”

Elle’s eyes narrowed, and I realized I’d stepped onto some dangerous ground. “Don’t you know how to accept help when it’s offered and call it a day?”

“There’s no way I can pay you enough to even put gas in your fancy car. That would put me in the red for sure.”

Elle dropped her arms and cocked a hip. “Then I guess it’s lucky I didn’t drive.”

“How the hell did you get here?” I snapped. Just the idea of this woman walking through the rough neighborhoods and pockets of gang activity had my protective instincts roaring to the forefront.

“Took the streetcar, walked the rest of the way.”

I stalked closer to her. “Are you an idiot?”

She lifted her chin and reached into her bag. “No. What I am is well-armed.” The small silver pistol she produced did not give me any comfort.

Staring up at the ceiling, I muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Woman, put it away.”

By the time I dropped my gaze back to her, the gun had disappeared into her purse.

“You even know how to use that thing?”

Her cocky posture turned defensive. “I may not have been a soldier, but I can damn sure use a gun.”

The front door chimed as Mathieu retuned with a bag of takeout. His eyes widened, presumably because he didn’t expect Elle to still be here. I lifted my chin.

“You good to hold down the fort for a piece? I gotta make a run.”

Mathieu looked at Elle, and an approving smile curved his lips. “Whatever you need to do, man. Whatever you need to do.”

I’d set him straight again later, but for now, I needed to get this girl out of Chains before I did exactly what he thought I was about to do: take her somewhere without an audience and wrinkle the hell out of that pretty green dress while I fucked her senseless. My dick jerked at the thought, but I ignored it. It didn’t matter how fine her tits and ass looked in that dress—she was not on the Lord Robichaux menu. I’d spent too much of my life watching out for Con to step into something that might fuck up his new relationship with Vanessa. I could just imagine the holy terror she’d rain down if I screwed around with her best friend and things went south.

I turned and headed for the back door. “Come on, sweet thing, I ain’t got all day.”

I didn’t wait to hear her heels clicking and following me down the hall, but within a few paces, I knew she was behind me. How? Because she was spittin’ fire. “Sweet thing? Really? Did you already forget my name?”

I stopped abruptly and turned. She ran smack into my chest. I lowered a hand to her hip to steady her. “I didn’t forget your name, Elle.”

“Then the nickname is unnecessary, isn’t it? I don’t know what it is with you and your brother and nicknames, anyway. I mean, Lord? What kind of nickname is that?”

It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten the question, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. “Not a nickname … you can check my birth certificate if you want.”

Her mouth dropped open just the slightest bit, and I fought to keep my mind from going to all the things I could do with and to that mouth.

“No way.”

“I’ll give you the rundown on the ride. Let’s move.” I dropped my hand from her hip and headed for the back door. The clicking followed immediately this time. Outside, evening was descending, and a pink and orange sunset blazed over the rooftops of the rundown buildings across the alley. I cringed to think of her walking alone through this neighborhood in even a hint of darkness. Not fucking happening again.

I crossed to the service entrance of the big brick building covered in graffiti. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my ring of keys and flipped through until I found the one I wanted and unlocked the bars shielding the door and then the double dead bolt.

“Jeez, what are you hiding in there? Fort Knox’s gold?” I glanced over my shoulder to see Elle watching closely. Instead of answering, I pushed open the door, entered the alarm code on the panel on the wall, and flipped the light switch. Elle followed as the old sodium tube lights came to life. Slowly, the darkness revealed the other piece of the equation that had Chains running so close to the red. A few big purchases, and then Bree’s stealing, and I was dangerously close to having to sell off what I’d just bought, and not nearly at the profit I knew I could make.

“Whoa. Not what I expected in the creepy, graffiti warehouse.”

I shut the doors before doing up all the deadbolts, but Elle wasted no time closing in on the gleaming black Hemi ’Cuda, skimming her hand along the hood.

“Now that is a sexy car.”

The fact that she went to the ’Cuda first—restored over the last two years by my own hands—boosted my ego. Out of the four classic cars parked in this garage—and the half dozen bikes and choppers—that was the only one it would absolutely gut me to sell. I grabbed the metal box hanging from a ceiling cable and pressed the red button to lift the door as Elle strode to the next car. Eleanor. A 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500.

“Damn, I didn’t know cars could be so mean and pretty at the same time.” She was right, but I snapped myself out of enjoying watching her excitement. Off limits, I repeated to myself.

“Come on, let’s go.” I pulled open the passenger side door of the ’Cuda before returning to the driver’s side and climbing in. I waited for damn near an entire minute before Elle slid into the black leather bucket seat. The flash of her thighs where her dress rode up—and the slow and sexy way she smoothed it back down—was not helping. I’d get her home and out of my car. End of story.