Cocky Jerk Read online

  Home, where corruption and chaos don’t live.

  “Please don’t follow me.”

  * * *

  I probably shouldn’t have stormed out of the clubhouse until I persuaded Mouse to hook me up with a license, but no, I had to go all girl and get emotional without pinning the tech guy to the wall. Something I realize as soon as I pull my Harley into the driveway and drop down my kickstand.

  Without a license, Penelope won’t be able to process me as a new hire…again. That’s gotta be three strikes against me. Looks like instead of playing with paperclips and Post-its tomorrow I’ll be filing for unemployment.

  Feeling discouraged, I rip the helmet from my head and throw my leg over the side of the bike. I dig into my back pocket for the house key and my stomach growls as I start for the door. Another thing I should’ve done was stop for food. Neither me nor dad have been here in over month. If there is anything in the fridge, it’s probably expired.

  “Curly Sue.”

  No fucking way.

  Any moment now the guys with the hidden cameras are going to jump out of the bushes and with any luck I’ll be on one of those shows where they offer you a cash prize for scaring the living shit out of you.

  I slowly turn around and sure enough, my eyes connect with Marco’s. I feel a hint of hysteria creep into my being as I shake my head in disbelief.

  “Before you go on and say I’m stalking you, I swear that’s not what this is,” he defends, and my eyes widen even more.

  At this rate, they may just fall out of my head.

  “The fact you’re standing on my front lawn proves otherwise. What are you doing here—better yet, how the hell do you know where I live?”

  “Well—”

  “No,” I interrupt, raising my hands to my head. I thread my fingers through my curls and take a step closer to him. “Don’t answer that. Of course you know where I live, you probably know my blood type and what color underwear I’m wearing too.”

  He quirks an eyebrow.

  “I don’t know your blood type but if you want to tell me the color of your underwear, I should probably buy you dinner first.”

  It takes a lot to render me speechless—well, at least that’s what I thought. Apparently, all it takes is for a cop to stalk me and offer to buy me dinner.

  He is offering, right?

  I shake my head again, this time a little firmer as I push the ridiculous notion out of my head.

  “Look, I have had a day. A really shitty day and there’s not much more I can take, so if you’re here to give me another ticket or better yet arrest me then do it already,” I tell him.

  Closing the distance between us, Marco comes to a halt and flashes me a crooked smile. I don’t know what is more lethal, that smile or the scent of his cologne. Deciding they’re both too much for me right now, I take a step back. What is that thing that everyone talks about? Something about mercury and retrograde, and when it happens, the whole fucking world flips on its axis. Everything spirals out of control. This must be that.

  “Mercury is in retrograde and the world is ending,” I mumble.

  He laughs.

  Forget the cologne.

  Forget the smile.

  His laugh is the most dangerous of all.

  I’m so screwed.

  “I didn’t come here to arrest you, although I suddenly wish I had my handcuffs with me,” he teases. He reaches into his back pocket and curiously I narrow my eyes as he brings his hand back around. He lifts my license between his fingers and I feel my blood pressure spike instantly.

  The son of a bitch really did steal my license.

  Chapter Five

  Marco

  “Thief!”

  The playful smirk falls from my lips as she lunges for me. My instincts kick into gear before she can pluck the license from my fingers and attack me. I wrap my free hand around her wrist and pin it to the small of her back. It’s a move I’ve made countless times, however, I’m usually trying to disarm a man my size, not a svelte little vixen—something I realize the second her body presses against mine.

  “Get your hands off of me,” she hisses as she glares up at me from the fringe of her long, dark lashes. Enthralled by the fire in her eyes, my fingers tighten around her wrist. I’m about to explain why I have her license and how I went out of my way to get it, but my gaze falls to her lips and I lose all train of thought.

  Well, that’s not entirely true.

  My brain still manages to function to a degree, and I wonder if her lips are as soft as they look. I damn Soraya to hell, because if it wasn’t for her filling my head with all that shit earlier, I’d be home watching the Yankee game. Instead, I’m standing here, letting this chick play Russian roulette with my balls.

  For real.

  Her knee misses the Pirelli family gems by a hair and snaps me out of my fucking trance. Still holding her hands behind her back, I drop my hand that holds her license to my junk and shield my innocent cock from the nutcase itching to put him out of commission.

  “Jesus Christ,” I growl. “Would you calm the fuck down?”

  I come in peace!

  “You want me to calm down? First, you pull me over—”

  “Oh, for the love of God, not this again,” I hiss, shaking my head. At this rate, I’m going to need to make a pit-stop at the church and cleanse my soul from all the swearing and damning the Lord I’ve been doing since I met this chick.

  “Not this again?” she admonishes, her tone rising to heights no one with a New York accent should ever attempt unless they’re auditioning for the reboot of Fran Drescher’s classic, The Nanny, and even then, they should refrain.

  “Yes, not this again,” I repeat, gritting my teeth. “We both know how the story ends.”

  I should let her go.

  Throw her license at her and get the fuck out of here, but I’m an idiot. An idiot who loosens his hold for a split second because he really digs the fire in her eyes. She takes a step closer and my brain shorts as soon as her thigh brushes against my dick. Not only am I sparring on the front lawn with this crazed girl, but I’m also getting a semi while doing so. If that ain’t a sure sign to throw in the towel and run, I don’t know what is.

  “Yeah, it ends with you manhandling me on my front lawn after stealing my license and me dropkicking your ass,” she spats, blowing a wayward curl from her face.

  If I thought she was bluffing, I might let this shit play out, but I’m not about to have my ass. Deciding it's time to set her straight, I release her.

  “I didn’t fucking steal your license,” I grind out. My patience teeters and I think I’m more aggravated with myself than with Antonia. I want to blame Soraya for filling my head, but she didn’t suggest I go looking for the license and she sure as fuck isn’t the reason I’m here now. Instead of waiting for her to come home, I could’ve dropped the thing in her mailbox or given it to Soraya.

  But, no.

  I had to deliver it to her myself.

  It’s fucking crazy and the longer I stand here trying to convince her I’m not some crazy fucking stalker, the angrier I become.

  Frustrated, I comb my fingers roughly through my hair.

  “Look, after I left Soraya, I went back to where I pulled you over and found the license in the street.” I grab her and turn her palm over, slapping the I.D. card inside. I close her fist around it and drop her hand. “There’s gum on the back. Good luck getting it off,” I snarl.

  Before she can say another word or make any sudden moves that might excite my treacherous dick, I go to leave. I’m two steps away from a clean break when she grabs my arm.

  “Wait,” she calls.

  Again, there’s no rhyme or reason for why I pause. Maybe it’s stupidity or, better yet, insanity, but I glance at her hand, taking in her slender fingers and the silver rings that decorate them. Tearing my eyes away, I lift my chin and meet her gaze. Surprisingly, she doesn’t glare at me. There’s a softness there reflected in her eyes and i
t makes me wonder if there’s more to Antonia than leather, a snarky attitude, and road rage.

  “You went searching for my I.D.?” she questions.

  Oh, good, we’re both dumbfucked by my actions.

  Sighing, I pull my arm free and shove my hands into my pockets, ignoring the frown that ticks her lips as we both take a step back, putting some distance between us.

  “It’s not a big deal, okay?” I hiss, feeling slightly ridiculous. As I stand there, feeling her eyes penetrate me, I try to decide how I’m going to explain my actions because I’m sure that’s going to be her next question. If the roles were reversed and she hit me with three tickets, I’d want to know why the sudden change of heart too. But I don’t think she’s gonna buy the insanity plea and unfortunately, you have a fantastic ass is not an option.

  I like my balls where they are, thank you very much.

  I go with a simple response.

  “You work for Soraya and I didn’t want there to be any bad blood between us. That’s it.”

  Nothing more.

  Nothing less.

  Bullshit.

  She lifts her head and arches one perfect brow, clearly not buying it.

  “Next time I won’t be so nice,” I add.

  You know, to really drive the bullshit home.

  “Right,” she says, lifting the license between us. “Well, thanks.”

  I jerk my head once and silently will myself to turn around and walk away, but before I can do that, I get distracted. Not by the thundering sound of a motorcycle zooming down the block but by the pensive look on Antonia’s face.

  “Great,” she mutters under her breath “What else can possibly go wrong?”

  That seems like a loaded question, one I’m not fucking touching. I follow her gaze, but she quickly slams a hand against my chest, halting me in place. She shoves her license into her back pocket and brings her eyes back to mine.

  “I need you to play along.”

  I’m sorry, come again?

  “What?”

  “Please,” she pleads, hooking me with those big brown eyes. “Besides, you owe me.”

  Sure I heard her wrong, I bark out a laugh. The engine dies behind me and she slaps my pec a little harder this time.

  Alright, so I didn’t hear wrong.

  “Seriously,” she hisses. “You. Owe. Me.”

  Closing the little distance between us, she lifts her hand from my chest and winds it around the back of my neck. The alarm bells sound somewhere in the back of my head, but I tune them out as soon as my gaze falls to her lips.

  “Come on, Officer, pretend I’m your dream girl and look at me like you can’t wait to rip my clothes off.”

  It’s not that much of a stretch. I definitely wouldn’t mind ripping her clothes off, at least then I might get her to shut up. I also wasn’t wrong when I assumed there is more to Antonia than meets the eye and now I know, I know she’s fucking nuts. I always did like them a little colorful.

  “What the fuck is this?” a deep voice growls from behind me and just like that, I’m pretending to be someone else’s boyfriend—at least I think I am. There’s got to be a limit as to how many times one man fits the same role in a single lifetime. At this rate, I should put an ad for hire in the newspaper.

  Antonia’s eyes continue to plead with mine as I mutter another curse and confession with Father Murphy works its way to the top of my list of things to do.

  Sighing, I roll my neck and brace myself to face my audience. Antonia’s fingers curl into my neck and she drops her head to my chest and my hands subconsciously grip her hips. Behind every lead actor is a convincing lead actress, and Antonia delivers.

  “Get your filthy paws off of her,” the guy sneers.

  Now, I like to think of myself as a levelheaded man, someone who doesn’t let too many people get under his skin. But this guy…this fucking guy.

  First off, I’m barely touching her. Second, who the hell does this asshole think he is talking to me like that? I lift my hand to the back of my neck and begin to pry Antonia’s fingers away so I can deal with the jerkoff behind me, but her hold tightens.

  “Hound,” she clips, acknowledging the douchebag behind me. She lifts her head from my chest and stares over my shoulder. “I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to be followed by anyone.”

  My brows knit together as I process her words. Suddenly, it all begins to click for me, and I conclude the reason she assumed I was following her is that she’s already being stalked by the arrogant tool behind me. Fearing she might be in some kind of trouble, I lower my mouth to her ear and just as I’m about to assure her she’s got nothing to worry about, she buries her nose against my cheek.

  Damn, she’s good.

  “Marco and I were just about to go inside,” she continues, seductively. “Get lost unless of course, you want to watch.”

  I don’t know who is taunted more by her words, me or the guy she’s clearly trying to get a rise out of.

  “Antonia,” I growl.

  Ignoring me, she takes my hand and starts pulling me toward the front door. I dig my heels in place and she shoots me a glare.

  “What are you doing?” she hisses.

  If we’re going to play pretend, we’re going to do it right. I would never allow some guy to talk to my girl like he just did, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t let her drag me away before I got my own jab in.

  “Fuck him, you’re coming with me. Get on the back of the bike,” dickwad orders.

  I was really hoping to walk away from this with my jaw intact, but that’s all the son of a bitch has to say for me to lose the little patience I have left. Tearing my hand out of Antonia’s, I spin around to face him. I don’t get very far though, because his fucking fist collides with my jaw.

  Come on!

  How is this happening again?

  An unintelligible sound erupts from the back of my throat and before he can get another shot, I grab his wrist and pin his arm behind his back, much like I did earlier with Antonia.

  “Do you have any idea who you just hit? I’m a—”

  My words die as Antonia stomps on my foot. I lose my grip on the animal in front of me and turn to glare at her, but she slams her elbow right into my gut, knocking the wind out of me. I’m getting the shit kicked out of me by my fake girlfriend and her jealous ‘hound’. That’s what you get for taking an oath to uphold the law and protect the citizens of New York—a fucking day from Hell.

  “Jesus fuck,” I howl.

  I don’t know what hurts more, my face, my ribs or my fucking ego. A thought creeps into my mind and with my hands pressed to my knees, I lift my head and look between the two of them, wondering if I’m being played by both sides.

  Before I can find out, Antonia brushes past me. My gaze follows her, and I get my first look at Hound as Antonia shoves him back. She starts shouting, but I only make out every other word as I take in the man that towers over her by a good foot or so. His size ain’t the only intimidating thing, the motherfucker is covered head to toe in ink, but it’s the leather vest and the center patch adorned to it that has me straightening to my full height.

  It’s the infamous insignia of the Corrupt Hellraisers, and aside from the Satan’s Knights, they’re the most prominent outlaw motorcycle club this side of the Hudson. Without giving myself a chance to question my actions, I start for the two of them, eager to pull Antonia away from him, but I pause when he tears his eyes from her to look at me.

  We stare for a moment, sizing each other up before Antonia turns and starts for me. I don’t break eye contact to look at her, though. However, Hound’s gaze shoots to Antonia’s ass.

  It’s a sign of weakness and I think he realizes it because he clenches his jaw.

  “Come,” Antonia calls, taking my hand as she reaches me. Still, I don’t move.

  Hound spares me another glance before relenting and turning back to his bike. I watch as he throws his leg over his Harley. The motorcycle comes to life as he li
fts his kickstand with his boot. He doesn’t bother with a helmet and in a flash he skids away from the curb.

  Once he’s out of sight, I turn my head and stare at Antonia.

  “I’m sorry about that,” she says as her gaze wanders to my cheek. Cringing, she lifts her hand to touch the side of my face. “It’s already starting to bruise.”

  “Fuck my cheek,” I hiss, wrapping my hand around her wrist. “What the hell was that? How do you know that guy?”

  She blows out an exasperated breath, and I drop her hand, watching as she shrugs her shoulders.

  “I know him a long time,” she replies, cocking her head to the side as she crosses her arms under her chest. “I can handle him if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  I don’t know what the hell I’m wondering, but I know I don’t like that answer.

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  She barks out a laugh.

  “Definitely not,” she responds, still laughing as she uncrosses her arms and reaches into her pocket for her keys. “Look,” she continues as she starts for the front door. “Hound thinks he has some type of claim on me, that I’m his responsibility. The sooner he thinks I’m someone else’s problem, the sooner he’ll back off.”

  She says it so nonchalantly.

  Like it’s totally normal for a guy like that to just show up and stake his claim.

  She glances over her shoulder at me and pauses. Our eyes lock and she swallows before continuing, “Thanks for being that someone for a minute. I’m really sorry he punched you, oh, and I’m sorry for elbowing you in the stomach and stomping on your foot too.”

  I think I might have a concussion because I can’t formulate a single sentence, all I can do is stare at her. A part of me wants to yell at her, another part wants to shake her, but the biggest part just wants to know her and that’s fucking scary for a guy like me.

  “I’d offer you ice, but I haven’t been home in weeks and I don’t remember the last time I filled the ice trays,” she continues, leaning against the door.