Smart Baztard (Baztards MC Book 1) Read online

  Chapter Seven

  The moment her arms wrapped around him, Prince knew he was in trouble. Gabby had always been a good girl. Hawk and Eagle swore she was the devil's spawn in pigtails, a manipulative brat with an angelic smile. Sure, he'd seen her pitch a fit a time or two, but she never gave him an ounce of trouble. Until she grew breasts.

  Those breasts pressed into his back now. He felt the points of her nipples through layers of clothing. His cock felt like a brick between his thighs. The scent of her wafted up and under his helmet. His tongue snaked out to grab a taste. It was like a hit of NOS injected into his taste buds.

  Memories of that night between her thighs with her clit in his mouth zoomed through his mind. He remembered tugging and sucking on her right labia, which had much more of a pronounced curve than her left one. He knew because he spent a lot of time rounding each of the bends before making that assessment. And the hell if he didn't want to take her out for another spin.

  But he couldn't. She was Gabby, his little Gabby with the pigtails and angelic smile. Behind him he heard the little demon breathe a contented sigh as she pressed herself closer to him, resting her helmeted head at his back. Her thighs wrapped around the outside of his. He felt the heat of the sweetness she kept there.

  Prince hunched forward and turned on the engine. He needed to get her home as quickly as possible. He kicked up the bike stand and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Gabby held on tighter. He felt her body sigh and lean with his as he turned into traffic. She followed his every move as they rode as if they'd done this a million times.

  His brain urged him to go faster, to get her unwrapped from him and deposited safely back in her home, and he in his. But his hand relented off the throttle. It was the first time he felt calm and carefree in God knew how long. He felt his body sigh back into hers. His brain cleared. Every problem and puzzle that had plagued him the last few years lost its complexity as his focus settled on the girl behind him.

  This was so familiar to him. Gabby, with all her long limbs, wrapped around him. Gabby, looking up at him with a gap tooth grin like he'd hung the moon. In the past, he'd stop whatever it was he was doing and give her his full attention. Whenever he did, things slowed down. His worries would fall by the wayside and he'd remember how to enjoy the simple things.

  Their brothers were wrong. Gabby wasn't a menace. She was uncomplicated and easy to figure out. Her motives were always clear and pure. She had never been anything but a source of joy and a reminder of goodness to him.

  It was pretty clear she'd gotten over her childhood infatuation with him. It had been three years. She'd likely had a number of boyfriends and lovers by then.

  Prince's hand clenched at that thought. He twisted the throttle, and they zoomed off the highway and onto the exit that led to their community. He pulled to the curb of her house. Her arms and thighs remained wrapped around him like the little monkey of her youth; the monkey that would latch on and not let go.

  But she was scooting back on the seat. Her legs loosened their grip from around his. Her hands unlatched from his chest. Her head rose from his back. As she moved further away from him, the calm, peaceful sense of rightness went with her.

  He had the urge to reach back and pull her thighs back around his waist and lock them at the ankles. Then he wanted to turn and bury his face in that warm place that he hadn't stopped thinking about once in three years. But he couldn't do that.

  Gabby slid off the bike as ladylike as possible in a skirt and heels. She was moving beyond his grasp. Suddenly, the last three years of her absence crushed him. How had he survived without that precocious smile, without that infectious laugh, without those inquisitive eyes?

  She stood on the curb and took off his helmet. Prince watched as her lovely face left the dark confines of the helmet and brightened the sun-filled sky. He knew every line of her face, but he felt like he was looking at her anew.

  She handed him the helmet with a smile. Then her slender fingers went to the collar of his motorcycle jacket which was over her shoulders. She ran her hands from the collar down along the lapels and over the front buttons. Four of her fingers on each hand curled around the front opening on either side, both of her thumbs caressed the buttons, and then she gave a tug.

  Prince had trouble swallowing as Gabby shed the jacket and revealed her form. He could deny it no longer. Gone was the gangly girl of his youth. In her place was a full grown, curvy, vivacious woman.

  "Thanks for the ride, Prince," she said in a voice that was no longer high-pitched, but husky. "It really was good seeing you again. Maybe we can hang out while you're here?"

  Prince gave an internal sigh. She hadn't given up on her childhood fantasy. He straightened his spine to begin his lecture and make things clear to her. She might be grown, but he was still older. Too old for her.

  Gabby didn't wait for a response to her invitation. She didn't wait to hear what he had to say. She turned and headed up the drive to her house.

  Prince watched her ass sway as her heels and long legs made distance between them. He felt the weight of his responsibilities swirling around his head, preparing for a landing. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She was already at the step that led to her door.

  Then she turned back. "You hungry? I have some chipotle chicken in the fridge."

  Prince kicked out the kickstand. His strides ate up the distance between them. Gabby turned and fumbled with the key to the front door.

  Prince shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to help her. He didn't feel certain if his hands would reach for the key or something else.

  He looked at the ground instead of at her ass in that skirt. His eyes fastened on her shapely calves in those heels, which was no better. He looked across the street to his house. There was food to eat in there. But not food like in the Hernandez kitchen. He decided he would go in, eat something delicious, and they would talk.

  He entered the house. The grand entrance looked as it always had. There were pictures on the wall of the whole family. It always made Prince smirk to see Hawk in shirtsleeves and a tie with a smile on his face instead of a smug grin. And there was Gabby, looking every bit the Latina princess at the center of her family. She wasn't standing in the center, but the eye couldn't help but gravitate to those bright eyes and that infectious smile.

  He turned away from the family portrait and they made their way to the kitchen. Mrs. Hernandez always had homemade treats out. She would always say that cooking was her love language.

  Prince's mother stuffed the freezer with an array of frozen meals. In the fridge was always two loaves of bread, an assortment of cheeses, and lunch meat from the deli. The cabinets were stocked with sugary and carb-loaded snacks.

  The only thing the Hernandezes had in their freezer were leftovers, and those never lasted long.

  "Beer or lemonade?" asked Gabby.

  He answered, and she pulled a beer from the fridge. Then she went about pulling out plates and cutlery to begin to assemble a dish for him. Prince sidled up to the kitchen bar and watched. It had been a minute since a woman had cooked for him. When he had played the field, he'd dated working women who kept the same hours as he did, which didn't leave a lot of time for home cooked meals.

  He watched Gabby pull an apron over her dress; "Happy Homemaker" it read. She turned back to the fridge and her skirts swished. She put a plate of fresh baked cookies in front of him.

  "I baked these before I came over to the hospital," she said.

  Prince looked down at the cookies. They were his favorite; sugar cookies. He could almost imagine the smooth, creaminess of the butter. He knew the sugar flecks would melt in his mouth. He balled his fingers into fists instead of reaching out for one of the treats.

  "Gabby," he said. "What happened that night between us was a mistake."

  Gabby nodded as she sliced into the meat, which was in a pan full of drippings and not in a branded plastic container. "You mean that night
when you gave me three orgasms and made me see stars?"

  She didn't look up at him. She concentrated on the condiments. She layered mayo on the bottom with a dollop of honey mustard on each slice of bread. Just the way he liked it.

  "It was a mistake," he said firmly, which was hard with his mouth watering.

  "Really?" She put her thumb to her mouth and sucked off a smidge of mustard.

  Prince couldn't take his eyes off the little flick of her tongue as she puckered her lips.

  "Did you do it wrong?" she asked.

  He blinked, focusing on the lecture at hand.

  "Cause if you did it wrong, I'm willing to give you another chance to get it right." She slid the sandwich over to him and then leaned her elbows onto the counter. She rested her chin in her hands and looked up at him beneath hooded lashes.

  Prince couldn't decide which he wanted more. A bite of the sandwich, or of her. His belly growled, his cock strained. His brain struggled to bring to the forefront the image of that little girl, but that image had been obliterated long ago.

  "I took advantage of you in a vulnerable state," he said. "You had just broken up with your boyfriend."

  Gabby snorted and threw her head back. "Charlie? Please. I had no trouble handling him." Then she leaned back down on the counter. "And when have you ever seen me do something I didn't want to do?"

  Prince thought on the query for a second. The smell of meat messed with his head and the growing meat in his pants messed with his control. He struggled for an answer. "Bedtime," he settled on.

  Gabby grinned. "Going to bed was never a problem, not as long as you were there with me."

  She straightened and took a step around the bar.

  "And then bedtime took on a whole different meaning when you put your hand down my swim suit. When you put your face against me and took me with your tongue. That's when I knew I wanted you in my bed every night."

  She was standing before him. One more step and she'd make her way between his thighs. The sandwich lay on the counter, forgotten.

  "We both knew exactly what we were doing that night," she said. "We both knew exactly what we wanted then, as well as now. I'm just brave enough to say it out loud. I'm not playing a game. My feelings for you are real. I want you. And now it's your move."

  She held still. It would only take an inch and he could satisfy his craving and find out if her lips were as sweet as her clit. But the door opened and her father's voice made the decision for him.

  Chapter Eight

  Gabby sighed. Her head dropped down and landed on something soft and warm and familiar; Prince's chest. He let her rest her head there. But only for a second.

  She'd been so close. She could taste the scent of his toothpaste on his breath —cinnamon. But then he took a step back, and he was again out of her reach. At least this time it was only a few feet and not a few states.

  She lifted her head and looked up at him. Prince scrubbed his hand over his face and into his hair like he was trying to shake himself awake. She wondered, was she a nightmare? Or dream?

  His gaze connected with hers, and there it was. She hadn't imagined it. It was crystal clear in his hazel depths.

  Prince wanted her.

  It hadn't been a life lesson with her that night in the pool house. He'd done it because he'd wanted her. He just couldn't admit it to himself. He probably still saw her as a little girl. But she hadn't been a little girl for years.

  She watched his jaw tense like a dog with a bone. He did that when he was working out a particularly tough problem. A flick of her eyes took her gaze to his right hand which clenched and unclenched, like he wanted a square cube to solve. He was trying to figure out the right steps to get to the outcome that he wanted. The outcome that would keep the distance between them.

  Well, that wasn't happening. Gabby would just have to continue to keep him off balance. To do the thing he least expected so that he couldn't work through his process. At least not until she could convince him that she wasn't the problem. She was the solution.

  So Gabby did the unexpected. She was the one who backed away from him. But not before she flicked her gaze downward again, this time towards the front of his pants. Looking down at the bulge in Prince's pants, she saw the last bit of proof she needed. There was no denying that bit of evidence.

  They were meant to be. He'd figure it out sooner or later. But she would prefer sooner.

  She'd been patient for three years. That was the longest she'd ever waited for anything in her life and she was done. For now, she walked away from him. She hadn't missed the half step he took toward her at her retreat.

  Gabby turned in time to greet her father. "Hola, Papi."

  "Hey, Princess Leia." Samuel Hernandez brought her into his arms and planted a kiss on top of her head. "How was the drive up? Diniece is still at the office. I made her promise to be home in time for dinner. Hey there Han. I figured you'd end up here sooner rather than later."

  "I was just…" Prince began and stopped.

  "Getting a taste of Gabby's cookies?" asked her father.

  Sweat pooled at Prince's brown forehead and he visibly flustered. "No," he said forcefully. "She made me a sandwich."

  "You didn't offer him any of your cookies?" Her father turned to her with a frown of disappointment.

  Gabby couldn't hide her smile. "I tried to." She went to the counter, picked up the plate of sugar cookies and shoved them toward Prince. "I told Prince they were made especially for him, and they've been sitting around waiting a long time. He can take them home if he'd like."

  Prince's jaw tensed again. His hand clenched and unclenched. Gabby only smiled. Then she turned over her shoulder and addressed her father.

  "But he refused," she told her father. "I think he's on a diet or something."

  "Since when does Prince say no to you?" Gabby's mother entered the kitchen. Valeria Hernandez sailed over to Prince and kissed him on each cheek. "What are they feeding you in D.C.? Seafood from that polluted water? You're skin and bones. I'm going to pack you a cooler for when you have to go back."

  "Thank you, Mrs. H, but that's not necessary"

  "Son," chuckled Mr. Hernandez, "You may have gotten away with denying one Hernandez woman, but no man gets away with denying two Hernandez women and lives to tell the tale."

  "You're staying for dinner," Mrs. Hernandez insisted. "You just tell us what you want and we'll whip it up."

  "Gabby already made me a sandwich," Prince pointed lamely to the forgotten dish.

  "Okay, that's a start," said Mrs. Hernandez turning to the fridge. "What do you want on the side?"

  Prince opened his mouth to respond but Mrs. Hernandez began pulling out vegetables and spices. Prince looked between the three of them. They had effectively boxed him in inside the kitchen. There was no escape.

  He returned to his barstool as Gabby and her mother pulled out knives and pans.

  "I'm so glad you're back Prince," said Mrs. Hernandez. "Maybe you can help the local police with handling all these incidents against minorities and immigrants."

  "The rash of hate crimes has escalated since the governor's election," said Mr. Hernandez.

  "That man," Mrs. Hernandez shuddered as she threw veggies into a sizzling pan.

  Gabby had seen some news reports of Jewish temples being spray painted. She'd heard of school children using hateful language against minorities in their classes. She'd grown up in a fairly mixed neighborhood, but she still had to contend with stereotypes and prejudices even with her social status as the daughter of the district attorney.

  "Shouldn't the Governor take responsibility for what people are doing in his name?" Gabby asked as she sliced into a red pepper.

  "It's their actions," said her father. "He hasn't encouraged anyone to commit any violent crimes."

  "What about with Christopher?" Her mom addressed this question to Prince. "With the race car accident? Humberto said the other team was shouting racial slurs, and that they had a swastik
a emblem on their car. I can't believe that's even legal."

  "It's free speech," said Prince. "What I have to prove is intent; that the other driver intended to harm Crow due to his prejudices."

  "How do you do that?" asked Gabby.

  "The statements of racial slurs is a start. It would help to link the other driver to known racist or radical groups."

  "So you'll need to infiltrate the racing team?" said Gabby.

  "It's not that simple—" Prince tried, but Mrs. Hernandez cut him off.

  "Isn't the driver who hit Christopher the son of the Governor's Chief of Staff?" asked Mrs. Hernandez. "Gabby, you were invited to play at a dinner there tomorrow night. You can take Prince. You two can go in undercover."

  "That's actually not a good—" Prince tried again, but the Hernandez women were already concocting a plan. And then Mr. Hernandez jumped on their bandwagon.

  "If you heard something while there as a guest, you could use that information," he said.

  Prince looked between the three of them. Once again, they'd boxed him in. His gaze found Gabby's, and he shook his head. "I would never do anything to put Gabby in harm's way."

  Gabby's heart swelled as his need to protect her shone fiercely in his eyes. Normally it would tick her off if he or either of their brothers' treated her with kid gloves. But in this instance, it worked in her favor.

  "If there's anyone I trust with my daughter's well-being," said her dad, "it's you."

  Chapter Nine

  The house was dark by the time Prince got home. The Hernandezes had kept him until he'd cleaned his plate of the sandwich, the side dishes, a second sandwich, and a couple of Gabby's cookies.

  Gabby.

  What the hell was he going to do about Gabby? When her parents showed up, she'd morphed into the old Gabby. The Gabby who made him laugh as she made funny faces at her parents' PDA. The Gabby whose insights, that she'd lay down nonchalantly about life or politics or art, made him pause to consider. The Gabby whose eyes sparkled when she looked at him and made him stop taking himself so seriously.