Ironhand (Riders Of Tyr #5 - MC Romance)

14. Test

Ironhand

We call Rage a psycho but since he has calmed down now he has Iris, I guess it's my turn to carry the torch. Cause I am seriously getting deranged and fast. Main reason? Chiara, what else? All because of her. A woman that is foolish enough to come to the Riders on her own, that was daring enough to venture barefoot into the wilderness. A woman that inflames me every damn time she looks my way. A woman that seems to constantly find herself in trouble. 

She studies me, I can tell as much and I am sure half of it is her looking for a way to wiggle out of this and save her life. The other half... The other damn half is long, hot stares down my body and a lot of goddamn bite-liping while she is at it. Both halves fuck me up real good.

After we ate, we washed the dishes together as if we've been doing that every single day. Then she insisted on going out the porch. Like a fucking puppy, I followed her as if I was the captive and her my captor. 

And that's where we are now, sitting on the chairs I made myself and looking out on the lake. I even brought out one more chair and a pillow to keep her leg up with her keen eye following my every move. Fortunately, she quit her constant yapping and just looks at the view.

I should be calm, enjoying the quiet, the fact that she seems to not be going anywhere and make me trace her in the dead of the night. And especially after the best chili of my life. But I am not. I am agitated, on the edge, crawling out of my skin.

"A nice Cabernet would go well with this view," she breaks the silence.

I reply nothing. I have talked too much with her already. More than anyone else perhaps ever in my lonely life.

"A nice Cabernet, some Bra Tenero and a little cheddar," she seems to be talking to herself.

I dare a look at her first to make sure she hasn't had a stroke and secondly because of the gentleness on her voice. Her eyes are softer, her lips less tight than usual and her body is relaxed. 

This is not normal, this is insane. How can we be so comfortable around each other? I met her only a couple of days back and all I have done is handcuff and boss her around. And she's been a major pain in the ass in the meantime. I need this to be over.

"Stay!" I bark and get up.

Her look turns harsh and her relaxed body goes stiff. I regret it instantly, that reminder that I am still the one to keep her here with a death threat hanging over her head. I just don't want her to feel like that around me but she has to. That is till she takes out her tongue to imitated a puppy. 

"Want me to wiggle my tail?" Chiara raises an eyebrow, challenging me.

Fucking...I get closer and lean so that my hands are on either arm of her chair. She holds her ground as I move in but her eyes drop to my lips for one brief moment. Enough to confuse me. Enough to make me look down at her lips that are plump, even tight as they are. What was I...? Right, threaten.

"I said," I try to sound as cold as possible though I feel the exact opposite, "stay!"

And with that, I walk away from her before something even more stupid happens. Seriously, dangerously stupid. And seriously, dangerously hot.  I go down to the lakeshore and I take my phone out. I am far away enough but I can still see her on the porch, her eyes following me.

News? I text Stig.

I found the policeman that gave her the files, Stig texts back immediately. Thank Tyr, he is one of the dirty ones the Chinese got in their pocket. He says she was working on something that had to do with us but nothing more.

This is bad. If police know she was looking into us then they might lean on us more.

I also talked to the guy she works with, Jason. Fun guy, I liked him, Stig continues. I contacted him about a job in our Chinese studios and he was game. After a few beers, he was quite the chatterbox. Anyway, he knew nothing just that she had taken a few days off.

Now what?

Tor has a plan. He'll call you when he's sure.

OK.

Chief?

What?

Did you make the little journalist's fantasies come true?

Instantly my eyes go back to Chiara. She is up and leaning against the rail, my t-shirt too big so as she leans, I can see all the way down to her belly. Not that I am looking at her belly. It would take a seriously crazy man to look past her perfect, round breasts.

Chief?

No, I type and shove the phone in my back pocket.

I mutter a prayer under my breath and make my way back. Chiara is still looking out on the view, her breasts even more visible as I come closer. Her eyes are on me and she is piercing me with that clever look and those big lips half-opened. 

"Cover yourself!" I throw at her and go in, slamming the door behind me.

A plan. I don't like the sound of it. Tor's plans are great for the club but never on others. He wouldn't even blink giving the order to kill Chiara if would save the Riders trouble and grief. I can leave with her, ride away, hide her from him. Do what?

The thought comes so involuntarily, I go straight to my room and slam the door. Did I just really contemplate on betraying the club for some random bitch? Sure, she makes a mean chili but that's not reason enough. Right, the chili, my own self mocks me now.

"Is there something wrong?" I hear her outside the door.

Wrong? I could list the things that are wrong in my life right now and she'll be in Mexico when I'd be done. I pinch my nose and try to concentrate. I am the Ironhand of the Riders, the fist that kills our enemies, a warrior of Tyr. And I am hiding in my room like a boy!

"Girard?" she pushes. "Should I prepare my last supper?"

I chuckle. That woman has so much depth, she can drown me in it. She has spunk, she has sass, she is brave enough to face this whole ordeal with humor and she has yet to break down in hysterics. I am going to hide in my room no more. I open the door and she is leaning against the wall across it.

"So? Last supper?" she jokes but I see her agitation.

"No," I move close enough to pin her against the wall. "Not yet."

"It was just my tits that got you angry then?" Chiara smiles that wicked, side smile of hers.

I tighten my jaw but my eyes have a will on their own and they drop on her breasts. I see them swell under the t-shirt and my mouth goes dry. I don't like them big, just enough to fit in my palm. And hers will fit just fine. She squirms nervously and I look back into her eyes.

"I have never seen a man get angry at tits before. Are you an ass man, Mr. Girard? Apart from simply being an ass, I mean."

"Do not test me, woman," I warn her and make for the kitchen.

"Asshole," she whispers.

"Heard that," I smirk, glad that she can't see it.