Dark Temptation (Dark Saints MC Book 2)(5)

I opened the door and ushered her out into the bright sunlight.

“There you go. Again, there are a few nicer places in town. Where you won’t run into bad guys.”

“Are you a bad guy?” she asked. The innocent way she looked was in direct conflict with her low voice, which had a bit of gravel in it. Who was this woman?

I felt a tightening in the leather pants I wore. That voice in this pretty package had my complete attention. I stepped closer to her and leaned down so she would hear me nice and clear.

“I am the baddest of men. Best stay away from me and places like this, Jenny.”

She blinked. I noticed her lush eyelashes. I also noticed the pulse in her neck and the hollow at her collar bone. Normally I noticed tits and ass. What the fuck was my problem?

“Bad maybe. But polite for sure,” Jenny said in that sexy as hell voice. This time I noticed her lips. Jesus. I decided to give hanging with her just a little longer a shot.

“Can I walk you to your car?”

“I – no. I’m here, right across the street. Next time you’re in the library come say hi.”

She turned and walked across the street – jaywalked I might add. I swear a car nearly hit her. Her skirt blew up in the aftermath and I got another nice look. Fucking A. She was a damn disaster wrapped up in sexy. And not sexy like anything I’d ever seen.

I watched, couldn’t help it, as she walked up the steps to the Port Azrael Library and into the building. She didn’t look back at me.

The library, how the hell was I going to find a reason to go to the goddamn library?

I’d have to think about that one. I knew for sure that I’d like to see Jenny in the yellow dress again. And out of it.

It was enough to almost make me forget my worries about the Devil’s Hawks and whoever else was trying to encroach on Port Azrael.





3





Jen



I did not normally trip; I did not normally dodge traffic like Frogger in a traffic jam. I normally did pretty well on my feet. But if I was going to be in the same space as three Dark Saints, I knew I better do something to get one of them to notice me.

A collision seemed the best option. So I played the klutz.

It worked. Sort of.

I felt legitimately dizzy when his hands touched my shoulders. They were strong, steady, and as hot as it was in Port Azrael. I watched gooseflesh raise up on my arms when he made contact.

His patch said Benz but that probably wasn’t his real name.

I wanted to make an impression. And I think I did. But the hell of it was that Benz made one on me as well.

My thoughts kept going back to him throughout the rest of my day. And that had to stop. I wasn’t here to find a boyfriend, for God’s sake.

I was working. I wasn’t supposed to think about sex or anything in the vicinity of attraction, but damn.

That man was bigger, badder, and hotter than anyone I’d ever seen.

I found myself imagining what it would be like if I let his hands roam. I closed my eyes and tried to purge the carnal thoughts he’d inspired.

I did what I could to focus on my job as visiting librarian. I had to have a reason to be there that wouldn’t raise suspicion from The Saints or anyone else in Port Az.

I really didn’t have a clue as to how to take the next step with The Saints. So I did what I was paid to do. I made myself at home in the little area Inez had given me.

I angled myself perfectly to see out the window across to Woody’s. I would be looking to see if Benz or either of his friends showed up again.

Woody’s Lounge wasn’t their club. I had no idea where that was. But now I knew that at least some of The Saints drank across the street. Three to be exact. One of whom I couldn’t quite shake from my mind.

Until I could make inroads on whatever criminal shit they did in this town, I’d make progress on its history instead.

I began to dig into the old records.

I knew Port Az had ties to the Texas Rangers, and to my own history, and so here I was. I’d learn, read, and scan. It was more interesting reading than the filing they had me do in Austin. And it was connected to my Daddy’s past.

I’d get the history of Port Azrael into the permanent records before it disintegrated and I would watch through the window toward Woody’s Lounge. Something had to happen. Something would come to me. I had faith. And maybe Daddy would help things along.

Reading history in a book is a far cry from what it’s really comprised of. History that lasts, records, are things like deeds, old newspaper articles, and other dusty, crumbling papers. Those were the building blocks of any town’s story.

The drama behind the documents was what I was after too. What really happened here was the stuff of legend in my family. My Daddy and my Grandma had told me the stories.

During the Great Depression, when legendary Texas Ranger, Frank Hamer, was going after Bonnie and Clyde, Ranger Randolph Davidson was doing the same in Port Az.

Ranger Davidson was my Great Grandpa and I had heard stories about his heroism since I was born. He was larger than life and loomed large in my dreams: I wanted to become just like him, and just like my Dad.

Back in the day, outlaws and bandits made their way to Texas because it was easy to hide here back then. The vastness of our state is exactly why The Rangers were needed.

The Old West wasn’t so far in the past during The Depression; that’s what Grandma and Daddy reminded me of all the time with their bedtime stories.