Beast - A Steele Riders MC - Page 7

“Down this way is the guest bedroom.” I follow Crystal for the grand tour while Boomer grabs my things and brings them inside. It’s a decent size with a full bed at the center and everything perfectly crisp.

“Beast’s room is right down there.” She points to the door opposite of mine and then she says, “The other side of the house is where the office and the kitchen are.”

I throw up my hands in a mock-surrender. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll stay out of his rooms.”

“Well, we need to be going, but if you need anything, give me a call,” she offers, slipping her arm around Boomer.

“Um…I don’t actually have a phone.” It’s another thing I had to leave behind.

“No problem. I’m sure we can have that taken care of,” Boomer answers.

“Oh, no. Please don’t. I’ll be fine.” They nod, but something in their posture lets me know that they are just humoring me. Crystal reaches out and gives me a hug.

They leave, and I’m all alone in this immaculate house, letting the loneliness seep through my bones. Sitting on the bed, I wonder what the hell I’m supposed to do until he comes home.

A rumble in my stomach reminds me that I pretty much haven’t eaten today. Please tell me there’s more than some crackers. It only takes a minute for me to find the kitchen. If the house is neat, the kitchen is pristine. It looks like it came straight out of an expensive magazine or someone’s dream kitchen on Pinterest and hasn’t been used yet. I run my hand over the black, white and grey granite countertops, trying not to drool. A part of me is glad that I’m here by myself, so I don’t look like a nut.

I start to dig in the cabinets and then into the fridge, deciding what I can make. I find everything for spaghetti, I quick thaw some Italian sausage and then get to cooking a quick sauce, chopping the veggies like this was my own kitchen. I’m in the middle of dumping the veggies into the pan with the sautéed sausage when the grease pops, shocking me, and I jump back, hitting the spoon that I used to stir the sauce, sending a splatter of bright red everywhere including his beautiful white cabinets and my face.

I run to the guest bathroom and grab the towels hanging nicely. Shit, I cringe using them, but some bleach should get them back to the pristine white.

I do my best to clean the kitchen and then turn everything off. I have to wash up. There’s no way I can meet him looking like a disaster after dirtying his kitchen. I get to my temporary room and go into the bathroom to shower. I’m naked by the time I realize that there aren’t any towels in there. Shit. I hope there are towels in the other bathroom. I leave the room, believing I’m alone, but I’m not.

Chapter 3

Beast

Regret strikes me, knowing that there’s a complete stranger with a shit load of baggage invading my private space. I do my best to push through the rest of the day without freaking the fuck out. Staying late suddenly doesn’t hold any merit. Now I want to get home and make sure she’s not sneaking into rooms, snooping around my office.

As I make the thirty-minute drive back home, I call Boss. He’s busy at the bar, and it’s a little loud since it’s the start of a long Friday night. He shouts over the crowd, “Sorry, Beast, can’t talk. Be nice.” I make my way to the house, hating that he couldn’t tell me anything about her. Boomer sends me a text. Took her to your house for Boss.

I call him right away since I’m driving and can’t respond. “Hey, don’t freak out.”

“I’m not. I’m just driving.” I partially lie because I don’t trust people. Maybe it’s a lifetime of being a part of a secret operations team or the fact that I’m a lawyer. Either way, I never trust people or their motives, especially in my home. “She’s set up in the guest bedroom. Crystal says we’re going to need extra guys on her. She’s hot—her words, not mine.”

“Hot? That’s all I need. I don’t have time to babysit. She’s not bringing people into my home no matter who tickles her fancy for the night. This is a bad idea. I should set her up somewhere else.”

“She’s safest there, but I can see what I can do.”

“Thanks.” We hang up, and I feel a little bit of relief. I creep into my place, attempting to catch her by surprise to see if she’s doing something manipulative. Shit. If she stays, I might have to get some cameras inside my house. I’m losing it. This woman hasn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she’s the witness to something terrible and is willing to testify despite the danger to her.


Tags: C.M. Steele Books Romance Books
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