Biker's Claim(7)

By: B. B. Hamel



“Sure,” I said.

“I feel like I’ve watched you grow up in this club. You’re like family.”

“The club is my family,” I said.

“You’re about her age; you two seem friendly enough. Not too friendly,” he added, giving me a look. “You’re good at what you do. Competent, serious, smart. I trust you.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks, prez. I won’t let you down.”

“I know.” He turned back to his food and began to eat again like I wasn’t even there.

I turned and left the club, my head spinning.

Bodyguard to Janine? Acting as a bodyguard wasn’t an easy gig for anyone, but acting as a bodyguard to the princess of the bikers was going to be even worse.

Not to mention I couldn’t keep my fucking eyes off her in the best of circumstances.

My mind flipped back to the night before. I’d kept looking at her, sitting there with that new girl, Sara or something like that. The way she moved, smiled, laughed, it all made my fucking cock hard as hell. I wanted her and was fascinated by her strength. She was a biker chick through and through, down to her core.

But she was off-limits, incredibly off-limits. And now Larkin wanted me to follow her around, protect her, keep her safe, all that shit?

I almost wished he had trusted someone else, but he hadn’t. He trusted me with this, and I wasn’t going to let my club down.

I got on my bike and kicked it into gear, tearing ass out of there and heading toward the address on the piece of paper.

I wasn’t exactly known for keeping my dick in my pants; that was for sure. But for years I had avoided Janine, moved away as soon as I felt her getting too close, stepped back if she was being too nice. I’d never let myself cross that line before, and I wasn’t going to now.

I had to remember that this was just a job, just another job that I had to do for my club, for my family.

I looked at Larkin like a father figure. I wanted to be like him, to be as cold and calculating and as competent as he was. I was good at what I did, and I wanted to prove myself.

I pulled up outside a little apartment building on the outskirts of downtown. I was a little surprised that Janine lived in such a nice little spot, the sort of place college kids liked to live, but this was the place on the paper. I got off my bike, feeling out of fucking place but not really caring either way.

I walked up to the door and buzzed her apartment.

Silence.

“Shit,” I grumbled. “Maybe I missed her.”

I buzzed again and again until finally her voice came over the intercom.

“What the fuck do you want?” she asked, sounding sleepy.

“Janine,” I said, “it’s Clutch. Open up.”

There was a pause. “Clutch? What are you doing here?”

“Your father sent me,” I said. “I have to talk to you.”

I was really, really dreading this.

Janine was not known for her calm serenity. Janine was a fucking spitfire. We all called her the biker princess, but that was far from the truth. Janine was as down to earth as they got, but she didn’t take shit from anyone, and a lot of guys didn’t like that.

Personally, that sort of thing got my cock nice and hard. I loved seeing her push her weight around these hard guys, making them bite back comments they’d have said to basically any other woman. Janine could do things nobody else could because of her father, and she wasn’t afraid to use that power.

She didn’t hesitate to talk back to a big, hulking biker. A big biker like me.

And I knew she was not going to be happy about this.

“Fine,” she said. “Come up.”

The door buzzed and I pulled it open. The building was nice, modern, and comfortable. My boots made a nice thump as I walked up the stairs and stopped outside her door.

I knocked and it opened.

“Come in,” she said.

I shut the door behind me. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, and I stopped in my fucking tracks when I got a look at her.

Hair in a messy bun, falling all down her gorgeous fucking face. Her shorts were tiny and short, showing off her long, sexy legs. And that tank top wasn’t doing much to hide her full, incredible fucking breasts, pushed up by her arms.

But it was her eyes that really did me in. Deep and piercing, and more than a little annoyed, she looked at me like she wanted me to fucking leave and also never exist all at once.

“Why are you here, Clutch?”

There it was, my name from her mouth again. The way she said it both pissed me off and drove me wild.

“Larkin sent me,” I said. “I got to tell you something.”

“So tell me and then leave,” she said. “I have work in an hour.”

“I know,” I said. “Maybe you should sit.”

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