Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (75 page)

“Your dad texted me a picture of his new shotgun. I'm not really sure how to feel about that,” Flor said and I grinned. It'd taken a whole hell of a lot to convince River not to make me a birthday dinner at home for my twenty-first. I think she and my dad were still irked about it. I was terrified to see what he'd do when Flor proposed to me.

“You should be afraid. Very afraid,” I said, trying
really
hard not to think about the time my dad had walked in on me and Flor doing it in the living room. That was his own fault for not knocking. It was still technically my apartment. Anyway, I was just glad that Flor wasn't dead yet. It certainly wasn't easy dating your stepbrother; if I hadn't thought family dinners could be anymore awkward, I was wrong. I think the worst part was when River had tried to talk to me about condoms.
Shudder.
“But don't worry, I won't let him hurt you, even if you're an asshole.”

“But I'm your asshole,” Flor said and I laughed. But then his lips brushed against mine and my entire body felt like it was coming apart at the seams. Flor kissed me like he'd never let me go. Good thing, too, because I knew I'd never let him go either. “And I love you,” he said again, making my entire body tingle from head to toe. There were some things in this world that you just never got tired of hearing. “Happy birthday, dope.”

“I love you, too,” I told him, kissing him again to keep from spilling my secret.
I found the ring, you idiot. Stop hiding things in your trunk.
That was okay, though, because I already knew what I was going to say.

I was going to say
yes.

DESCRIPTION

Make nice with the President of the Alpha Wolves Motorcycle Club.
Yeah right.
It was what my job description called for—I just never realized exactly how nice I needed to be.
I certainly never expected to find myself twisted up and tangled in the raw, dirty world of an outlaw motorcycle club … or in the sexy, tattooed hands of the man in charge.
Royal McBride is a jerk—but a jerk with a swoon worthy accent, a big bike, and big … well, other things.
I didn't think falling in love with him would threaten my life. His life.
That we'd both risk losing everything we hold dear. 
The mayor's daughter … an outlaw MC president. It's a match made in heaven … a match tested in hell.

CHAPTER ONE
Lyric

What a broken, beautiful man.

That's my first thought when I step onto the Alpha Wolves' compound, how
beautiful
their president is. Of course, if he knew what I was thinking I doubt he'd be pleased. Beautiful is for flowers or skirts or landscapes, not for men like Royal McBride. If I have to pick an adjective, I think
dirty
suits him a little better. Dirty. And brutal. And raw.

I won't let him get to me.

It crosses my mind that I'm not the first person to think that. Toni Gladstone, the woman who held my position not three months ago, she said that same thing out loud three days before she quit, announced it to the entire office.

But he got to her anyway—in more ways than one if her flushed face and mussy hair were any indication of what happened during their first meeting.
Deputy Mayor of Operations and Government Affairs.
Poor Toni shed her title along with her skirt after only half a week of dealing with Royal and his Wolves.

I won't make the same mistake.

I straighten my own skirt—some bland, gray wool blend that I inherited from Toni along with her title—and make sure my hair is still in place, tucked back in an austere bun that's as unflattering as it is uncomfortable. But all of this blandness, this is my uniform against the world. It's a way to survive when nothing else seems to be going right. Blend in, disappear, assimilate.

I take a deep breath and put a smile on my face.

It's hard to keep it there with my eyes glued to Royal's wide, muscular back. I haven't even been introduced to the man, and I'm already falling apart. Sweat trickles down my spine and soaks into the cotton fabric of my white button-down while I try not to admire the curve of dark denim that cups the President's too perfect ass.
Oh my God, I'm already floundering here.

I take a deep breath and start forward, my heels loud against the pavement. I parked right in front of the clubhouse, so I know the whole MC is aware that I'm here. Still … nobody's acknowledging me. It's a scare tactic, I'm sure, but these men have a lot to learn if they think I'll scare easy. I might be five two and as average as you'll ever see, but I'm tough.

“Mr. McBride?” I ask, approaching the cluster of men standing on the wet pavement, gray skies above and a row of gleaming motorcycles on our right.

I pause about three feet from him—it's as close as I ever want to get. Even from here I can feel the heat rolling off him in waves, his strength, his charisma. It's frighteningly magnetic. I guess it's not just his six foot four frame or his hard muscles that keep him in control here.

“Mr. McBride?” I ask again, raising my voice a notch. I can keep quiet when I need to, but a woman in politics also has to know how to speak up or she'll never be heard. A few of the guys glance my way, assessing, and then quickly flick their gazes back to their president.

I feel my lips purse. It's not like I showed up here on a surprise visit. In fact, it was Royal himself who approached the mayor's office in an attempt to iron things out between the local government and the MC. I scheduled this meeting with Royal's secretary not four days ago. The bastard knew I was coming.

Raindrops start to fall, fat and heavy, splattering against the pavement and the metal roofs on the warehouses on either side of the long drive. The wetness slides across Royal's rock hard muscles, making the colors in his tattoos seem brighter, moistening the eyes of the wolves crouching over his biceps until they look real, like they're staring right at me.

I refocus my attention to his head of dark hair, my gaze directed up, up, up. The bastard's too tall for his own good. Still, I'm pretty sure I've got myself under control. It doesn't matter how handsome this guy is or how nice his body looks in that tight leather vest.

I take a deep breath, meeting the eyes of the wolf's head patch on his back, framed on the top and bottom with another pair of patches.
Alpha Wolves
on the top and
Trinidad, CA
on the bottom. An
MC
and a
1%
patch sit on either side. Intimidating, much?

Well, it won't work on me.

“Royal McBride.” I state his name with every ounce of authority I have—and it works. At the very least, it gets his attention.

“Who the fuck …” Royal begins, turning slightly to glare at me, locking a pair of dark brown eyes on my face. His brows raise and the corner of his mouth twitches. Me, I come completely unhinged, heat flooding my body, filling up all the places I so very suddenly want this man to touch.

Oh shit.

Royal looks me up and down once, assessing, his gaze giving absolutely nothing away.

“Well, I'll be damned,” he says, his voice holding the edge of an accent I can't quite place. He's trying so hard to hide it, but … “Is this pint-size little package from the mayor's office?” Royal tilts his head and lets his lips twist into a smile. I can already feel the flirtatious waves rolling off of him, the charm being turned full tilt onto my frowning face. I don't take it personally though; Royal isn't flirting with
me
, not really. This is a man who's used to getting his way with a smile and a wink, somebody who thinks that anyone without a penis wants him.

Hell, it's probably true, but I won't let
him
see that.

“Royal McBride, my name is Lyric Rentz, and I'm the Deputy Mayor of Government Operations and Affairs for the city of Trinidad.” I force my mouth into a smile and decide it's probably best to ignore the whole
pint-size
comment from the Alpha Wolves President. I extend my hand and pretend that I'm not studying that handsome face, the rugged cut of that jaw, the ruthless, wry humor that surrounds the man's impressive form.

Royal gives me another once-over, like he's not quite sure what to make of me. This time, I feel his gaze diving deeper, trying to get under my skin and understand what I'm all about, what makes me tick. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Mr. McBride reads minds.

“Well, well, well,” he says, his voice dropping a little lower as he goes in for yet another head to toe look. This time around, something in his expression shifts and I feel a little chill travel up my spine, dragging goose bumps down my arms. “Lyric …
Rentz,
” he says, my first name a verbal caress passing between his lips. My last name though … he says that like a curse. I know what he's thinking: Philip Rentz … Lyric Rentz. I have the same last name as the mayor.

Royal glances down at my fingers, searching, I think, for a ring. When he doesn't find it, he comes to some other conclusion and reaches up to take my still extended hand.

When our fingers slide together … oh God. His hand is rough and calloused, grazing the smooth skin of my own with an almost tangible spark that makes me jerk back like I've been burned. The guys around Royal chuckle and I jump; I almost forgot they were there.

“You're the mayor's … sister?” Royal asks casually, lifting his chin and tucking his fingers into the front pockets on his jeans.

“Daughter,” I correct, hating that that's the truth, knowing what people think when I say it.
She got that job
because
her dad's the mayor.
If they only knew … I got the job in
spite
of that. “Youngest of three.”

“Shame,” Royal says with another wicked little smile. “I guess you're off-limits then?”

“Off … limits?” I ask as the boys behind him laugh again, all of their eyes on me, amusement apparent in their gazes.

“Yeah, I mean, how would the mayor feel if I took his pint-size prodigy daughter to the bedroom and tore off that bloody awful little skirt of hers?”
I knew it! British accent. It's faint, but it's there.

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I stand there dumbfounded for a second. I'm not stupid, okay, but I work in a
mayor's
office. Talk about prim, proper, and politically correct. This man's like a shock to the system.

“No offense, Mr. McBride, but this
bloody awful
skirt belonged to Toni Gladstone, the
previous
deputy mayor. I might have inherited her position and her suit, but I'll be damned if I inherit her mistakes.” Royal stares at me for a moment, his brown eyes dark and deep and soulful, then throws back his head and laughs, like I'm the most ridiculous thing he's ever seen.

“Oh sweetheart, I promise not to do a bodge job on you. We'll take it nice and slow and easy, alright?”

“The only thing you'll be
taking,
Mr. McBride, is a few hours of my time and a look at the papers I've brought you. I think you'll find that a healthy relationship with the mayor's office and the people of Trinidad will be beneficial for all of us.”

“Oh, I don't mind getting into bed with the mayor's office,” Royal says, eyes twinkling, mouth twisted to the side in a wolfish smirk as he takes a step closer to me. “Only I'd rather get into bed with
you.
”

“That rat bastard,” I snarl, slamming my car door and glaring out the window at Royal's retreating back. “
Sorry to say, I'm too busy for that today, love,
” I mimic, hating that man with every fiber of my being. Maybe it's some sort of defense mechanism against the overwhelming attraction I feel for him. Never in my life have I had this sort of reaction to anyone before. I'm generally a pleasant person. But Royal McBride? Ugh.

So I rescheduled with the club secretary and climbed back into my car, watching in the rearview mirror as customers pull their bikes into the shop—the shop whose books are good, so good that the forensic accountant my father hired to go over them couldn't find a single discrepancy. Thing is, we all know that the club is up to no good. And they know we know. But any efforts to actually catch them doing wrong have gone badly—for us. This … business arrangement we're considering, it won't stop them from doing what they do, but it will help my father's chances at re-election, show the city that he's 'cleaning up the riffraff'.