Scarred Asphalt (3 page)

“Your Honor, if I may?”

And here it comes…

“You may.”

Snider cleared his throat, tugging at the end of his tie and
giving Dalton a sidelong glance before turning his attention back to the judge.

This put Thorne on the edge of her seat.

“Mr. Kilpatrick will not be able to maintain a living if he
is put on house arrest at his apartment. His work is miles away from his
apartment, as is his family.”

The judge gave a slow nod, leaning back in his throne-like
chair. “There are halfway houses around his work, I would assume.”

“There aren’t, sir.”

Thorne stared in amazement as Romeo stood up, decked out in
a suit that gave him a darker, more mysterious appeal that most women would
drop their panties for. Her eyes narrowed as Dalton’s lawyer introduced Romeo
to the judge as Apollo’s employer.

“Sir, due to the mileage constraints that are on an ankle
bracelet, we have a home, within the usual ten mile radius allowed for work situations.
He would be able to stay with Espina Lopez, a decorated paramedic in our
community.”

He. Just. Did. Not.

Oh, he did.

And Thorne nearly lost it right there in the courtroom. She
raised her fine, arched eyebrows, and it took everything in her not to bellow
in protest. She did not need an unwanted houseguest for three damn months.

There was an arrested expression on Dalton’s face that let
her know he was not keen with the idea either.

Thorne pushed herself up and squared her shoulders, having
every intention of walking out of the courthouse and not looking back. They
could kiss her brown ass.

“You must be Miss Lopez?”

The judge’s inquisitive voice made her pause, and she
squeezed her eyes shut at being caught trying to escape. Sighing, she opened her
nutmeg-hued eyes and turned to face the judge. “Yes, Your Honor.”

* * * *

“What the fuck!” Thorne hissed at Romeo once they were
outside the courtroom in the main hallway. She was furious at being cornered
like this, unable to say no to the law. That was a complete dick move on
Romeo’s part and she was going to let him know exactly how she felt about it.

“
Chinga tu madre
!” Thorne spat at the laughing Romeo
as he turned to face her, his unusually pale-green eyes lit with amusement.

“Calm down, Thorne. I told you I needed help. You’ve
provided it.”

Thorne felt her temples pulsating with anger as she stared
in total disbelief at Romeo while ignoring Dalton and Mace, who were just
inches behind them and could hear everything she said. “
Un culera
!”

A warning cloud settled on Romeo’s features, causing Thorne
to take a step back in uncertainty. “Enough, Thorne. I’m not asking you to take
in a fugitive. I’m asking you to help out your partner’s brother. That’s it.”

“I don’t want, nor need, a male in my home…or anyone for
that matter, Zen James!” With hands set on her hips, she eyed him with a
calculating expression. “This is ridiculous. Hawkeye lives just down the street
from me, why can’t he stay with him?”

It was easy to see that Romeo was getting exasperated by
her, but she didn’t care at the moment. “Didn’t you hear the conditions of the
house arrest?” Romeo’s green eyes became flat and as unreadable as stone as he
stepped closer to her. His voice dropped levels, taking on a near threatening
tone. “He’s not allowed to wear colors, or technically even live around colors.
He cannot participate in anything club while on house arrest.”

Thorne wrapped her arms about her, cocooning herself from
the verbal onslaught by Romeo. “I’m the furthest thing away from club.” She
swallowed the sour taste in her mouth, knowing she had been defeated in a game
that she wasn’t meant to play.

“Exactly. I’m sure that you won’t even realize he’s there.”

Those were always famous last words.

Chapter Four

It was hard to pack for three months. What exactly was he
supposed to pack? The whole apartment and give up his lease? Three months was a
fucking long time to pay for an apartment he wasn’t using. Apollo was just glad
that he hadn’t been placed in some halfway house, among the real degenerates.

It wasn’t like he had a ton of shit to pack up anyway. After
Gabrielle left and took everything but the kitchen sink with her, he never
bothered refurnishing the place. He had what he needed, that was enough.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Apollo glanced around the
bleak apartment that was now empty except for a few boxes to be put into
storage and the luggage that he would take to Thorne’s.

His breathing was slow and even; a heavy weight pressed on
his shoulders as he stared at the front door. Tomorrow, they’d slap on his ball
and chain, and he’d be tethered to Thorne’s house for ninety days. Could be
worse, right? He could be in jail, praying he didn’t drop the soap.

He reached toward the counter to grab his cup of coffee,
since alcohol was now forbidden—and he would have really love a fucking beer.
He let out a tragic sigh, which was interrupted by a knock on his door.

Brows furrowed as he stepped over to the front door and
swung it open. He let out another heavy sigh, combined with a bitter smile. The
sight of the female who was standing before him made him give a slight, almost
unseen, shake of his head—it took everything he had not to groan in
displeasure.

“What do you want, Gabby?”

She must have taken that as her cue to come in, because she
swept past him with a regal air about her. Gabrielle Velasquez was the epitome
of beauty, and the daughter of the president of the TGMC. Apollo and Gabby had
been high school sweethearts through all four years of school, and even into
college. Unfortunately, her vanity and the fact that her father was in the
rival club, were kinks in the armor of life.

She stood statuesque, despite her average height. Everything
about Gabrielle spelled spoiled to the core, and Apollo hadn’t helped matters
when they were together. He was a love-sick puppy, seeing only tits and pussy,
but hey, he had an excuse, he had been sixteen and was itching to get his dick
wet.

Her dark-chocolate eyes were framed by lashes so thick that
one would think they were fake. Café au lait skin belied her Latino heritage,
though her jet-black silken waves suggested otherwise. She had been popular in
school, won beauty pageants galore, was head cheerleader and, of course,
president of the senior class. To top it all off, she had also won the Elks
Rodeo Queen contest, which vaulted her popularity up the chain and covered up
the fact that her father was an outlaw, piece-of-shit biker.

Guess it helped being raised by her mother.

“Don’t look so upset to see me,
mamey
.” Gabrielle
flicked a sidelong glance in his general direction as she lazily dragged her
finger tips along the kitchen island top. “I was just coming to check on you. I
miss you.”

Apollo tried not to cringe at the term of endearment she had
just tossed his way. She used him like a trophy wife and he was far from her
bitch. That was the reason he had left her. She was too high maintenance, and
well…a bitch. Something had changed in her when she met her father; she thought
his role in club life gave her some sort of status.

Not.

But try telling her that.

It didn’t go over so well.

“You don’t miss me, Gabby. You miss the dick.” May as well
be blunt about it. He wasn’t one to brag about how he was in the bed, but he
knew he didn’t lack in that department. It was one thing in his life he knew he
could prove was true.

She lifted one slender shoulder as she gazed longingly at
him across it. Her lips puckered together in thought as she raised a single,
well-manicured brow, slowly dragging her eyes over his body in obviously
hunger.

Why did he suddenly feel like a piece of meat about to be
devoured by a pack of ravenous dogs?

“Hmm, maybe I do, Dalton. Can’t help being addicted.”

Apollo watched her sashay over to him, swinging her hips
purposefully to draw his attention to her. The low-cut blouse wasn’t helping
either. Perfect C’s were pushed up and exposed to evoke drooling and offer
ample space for gifted pearl necklaces.

Skipping down memory lane brought flashes of the fun times
they had together. It wasn’t so bad at times, just when she wanted something or
didn’t get her way. He was young and dumb back then, no lie there.

Seems he was about to be that way again.

Apollo hissed softly as she brushed her palm over the apex
of his jeans, feeling the chubby that was forming at the very thought of the past
and what she used to do with those lips of hers. Was it possible to be raped by
a woman?

He was starting to think so.

Not that he was complaining much.

He reached down and wrapped his fingers around her wrist and
tugged her hand away from his junk. “As much as I would love to cum all over
your face right now, it’s not gonna happen, doll.”

He had to have some self-respect, even if it cost him a set
of blue balls. He wasn’t attracted to her any more, but the memories of the
good times—mixed with the stress and need to get a release—played havoc with
his desire to just get off.

“How about just giving me a taste?” Gabby dropped to her
knees in front of him, deft fingers unzipping his jeans and reaching inside to
try and destroy what little dignity he had left.

He almost let her.

“Stop.”

That one word reverberated through the room and was laced
with an authority he didn’t like to use. It gave her pause as she lifted those
deep-brown eyes to meet his.

“Why?”

“I’m not interested in used goods, Gabby. I’m not fucking
dumb about the club life or you.” He had heard she spread her legs for quite a
few of the brothers in TGMC and didn’t feel like being just another conquest.
But most of all, she was the enemy now.

Shoving away from him, she all but growled at his dig. “It’s
not going to end here, Dalton.”

* * * *

“Sure it is.”

Thorne had seen the whole interaction between the two, quite
surprised at the will power of Dalton against the
bella morte
. It was
easy to see that the two of them had history, and he didn’t want to rehash it.

Thorne to the rescue.

“Excuse me?” Gabrielle’s brows shot up at the intrusion.
“Who the hell is this
piruja
?” Gabby snarled as she pointed at Thorne.

Slut? Really?

Sigh.

Thorne didn’t have time for petty antics from a scorned
female. Rolling her toffee eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest, exposing
her biceps to the two. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Dalton, visibly blanched at his ex ridiculing Thorne, looked
up while lifting his hands in a why-me
position. “Lay off, Gabby. Go
home, where ever that is.”

Thorne watched as Gabby bared her teeth, nostrils flaring
out in anger.

Gabby pointed a shaking finger directly at her, speaking to
Dalton as if she wasn’t even there. “You’re going to stick up for…” Gabby
paused, obviously at a loss for words. “For this
caballo
?”

Did she just really just get called a horse? In literal
terms, yep. In slang, she basically got called a bloody tampon.

Joy.

Thorne remained silent as Dalton came to her defense. “I
said back off, Gabby. I’m not going to ask you again.”

“Or what?” Gabby sneered at them both, her eyes darting
between them.

Thorne had enough of playing patty-cake with Dalton’s ex.
She was hungry, tired, and still had to go work out in the gym.

Reaching out, Thorne wrapped her fingers in the Latina’s
hair, swinging her around to face her. Letting go, she used her body weight to
push into Gabby, forcing her back, slamming her spine into the wall. She
brought her forearm up and against Gabrielle’s trachea, letting her know that
she meant business.

Leaning into the girl, Thorne deepened her tone. “Or I will
be forced to wipe the floor with your ass. Listen up and listen good.” Thorne
shifted her weight, applying a bit more pressure to the trachea as she glanced
at Dalton then back to Gabrielle, trying not to smile at the shocked look on
his face. “I really don’t want to have to get my hands dirty with your blood,
but I will. Leave him alone, he obviously wants nothing to do with you. Take a
fucking hint and move the fuck on.”

Pushing off of Gabby, Thorne looked pointedly at Dalton,
trying not to laugh at his look of astonishment. “That was your cue to leave,
Gabby.”

Dalton did not dispute Thorne’s order for Gabby to leave.
“You might want to listen to Espina, Gabby. I have a feeling that was your one
and only warning.”

Gabrielle was white as a sheet as she looked between the two
of them, her mouth opening and closing like a guppy out of water. Not bothering
with a comeback, much to Thorne’s surprise, she darted out of the apartment,
slamming the door behind her.

“Well.” Thorne wiped her hands down the front of her jeans.
“Wasn’t that fun?”

“Not really. Did you have to threaten her?”

Her brows shot up as she dragged her eyes over him: ripped
jeans tucked haphazard into combat boots, white V-neck T-shirt that hugged his
thick chest like a second skin, allowing the dark ink to play peek-a-boo with
the collar. His hair was mussed, his square jaw scruffy from lack of shaving,
and his blue eyes were dark and brooding as he silently watched her.

Thorne knew he could bench-press a car if he wanted to. He
was a beast in the gym; she had watched him from afar, partnering with Saber.
The clothing he chose to wear showed off his physique, though she would keep
her appreciation to herself. It’s not like she had a thing for him. He was
going to be an intruder in her home. Her sacred place.

“Yeah, I did. She didn’t get the hint until I laid it out
there, so what’s the problem?”

Dalton ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair, giving
a shake of his head and smirking. “There isn’t one. I just know her. This isn’t
over.”

“It is in my eyes.” Thorne grunted as she picked up a piece
of his luggage. “Hijole! What the hell do you have in here, princess?” His
luggage weighed a ton—the only other people who had heavy luggage like this
were females.

“Clothes, camera equipment, boots, books. Name it, it’s
packed in the luggage.” Dalton shrugged as he grabbed two more suitcases. “I’m
living with you for three months, I still have to be able to make money,
Thorne.”

“The judge said you have to limit your picture taking, so
why all the equipment?” she griped as she made her way out to the Tahoe to load
the luggage into the back. Stepping aside, she angled her face just right so
that her hair would hide the scar from view.

“I develop my own film, though Romeo has pretty much ordered
me to go digital.”

“Fuck Romeo.”

Dalton coughed and laughed at the same time, his cobalt eyes
dancing with humor. “No thanks. I’ll leave that to you women.”

“Don’t bunch me in with those women.” Thorne lifted her
hands, imitating quotation marks, emphasizing the word women. “He’s not my
type.”

“Who’s your type? Saber?” Dalton’s jovial voice was gruff
and low as he cajoled her.

“Yeah, totally want an STD. Where do I sign up?” Yanking
open the SUV’s door, she climbed in, not bothering to look in Dalton’s
direction, not pleased with where this line of questioning was going.

She was a fucking monster. No one wanted her and it was
something she would live with for the rest of her life.

“Harsh, Thorne,” Dalton called out to her as she started up
the truck.

“Truth hurts,” she barked back as she put the Tahoe into
gear, muttering under her breath, “like a bitch.”