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His perfectly tailored suit highlighted the trim lines of his body. All dark hair and clear blue eyes, wholesome and shit, All American Apple Pie. He was a fucking beast and he had no problem playing it up mainly to keep men like Elijah away from him.

Because what he wanted to do to that slim body was probably illegal in most states, at the very least it would send the proper politician running in the opposite direction. Elijah shifted nervously from one foot to the other and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his tailored slacks. What the fuck would he do with a perfectly primped man in tailored suits?

No man like that wanted to get dirty with a fucker like him. I have a lunch engagement. It was nice to see you again—Scary, have a good day, Trouble. Hey, you need to come to dinner. Tell Brody to call me. Keeping track of his and Mina's schedules is hard. You can come by Twirled house anytime. Good day. No better than attitude. He was a fucking asshole. The phone rang and he picked up the receiver. Scary already had too much responsibility with the Twirled Crew and his from the bar he owned.

Her connections are a hell of a lot more dangerous than his. He joked about hiding a body or two, but Peaches knew men who could make it happen. It amused the hell out of him when Gib tried to play father figure with him. He was almost a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Gib. Scary huffed and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.

The beautiful middle-aged woman could be worse than a mama bear when she thought one of her boys was in trouble. You know he comes to the damn shop just to see your ugly mug. Scary tossed the messages back on the desk, ripped his jacket off the back of the chair, and headed for the door without a word.

For small town American it leaned towards eclectic and he liked it here. A long ride would clear his head before he had to be at his bar, Brawlers, for the evening shift. His unwanted attraction to the man aggravated his bastard tendencies.

Callum was all innocent, appeared so fucking loving, but the moment Scary turned his back Callum fucked the first respectable man he could take home to the family. Ugly, tattooed and scarred Gene Sheridan was just a piece of trash from the wrong side of the tracks. Elijah could stay on his side of the tracks and leave Scary to his own life. His bike rumbled to life and he rolled onto the deserted street toward the town limits.

Clearing his head, he settled looser on the seat and lost himself in the warmth of the sun, the wind whipping around him and forgot his troubles for a few hours. On the road he felt at peace, he refused to let bullshit intrude and ruin it. Since his brother Brody started dating Trouble Mina had a full schedule.

Anytime she saw the swirling rainbow of neon as if it were a beacon she ran towards it. But for Elijah a wealth of embarrassment awaited him inside. Scary hated him. All that light caramel, ink covered skin caused his mouth to go as dry as the Sahara. Not all his wounds were accidents. His parents loathed the odd child they had been cursed with, and they showed him just how unwanted he was. All he had wanted was their love. Instead, he received pain and fear.

When his I. He turned his phone off and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Hunter raised his hands and slipped his reading glasses off. Warm and never hungry. He shook his head and glanced around the parking lot. Everyone else already left for the night.

He picked up his helmet where it was balanced between his thighs and lifted it to pull it on. He closed the visor and started his bike, he pulled out slowly and headed toward home. He slowed even more as he passed the deputy. Once he was far enough away, he accelerated, and the deep growl of his engine brought a smile to his face. It was the one place he felt free. It was a simple hack job. They just needed a few alarm systems deactivated.

He could do that shit in his sleep. The money was easy, and he never went inside, just shut down the systems, and the crew took care of the rest. Except for the last job that went from bad to worse. First degree Grand Theft charge on his eighteenth birthday.

None of that mattered when the crew removed almost two hundred thousand in diamonds from a safe. Kid from a bad neighborhood making good, but his scholarship only went so far, and he had to live. He liked the Brawlers Crew. He had a nice room and a job that paid well. His headlight hit a set of eyes in the middle of the road, so he swerved to avoid hitting whatever it was. Which he learned was a mistake as flashing lights, and a siren rose above the sound of his engine. Shit, his stomach had started twisting as he slowly pulled to the side.

He kicked down the stand and removed his helmet. His compact body shown off in the uniform. The shirt strained across a broad muscled chest, and the short sleeves barely contained the mass of large biceps. He must live in a gym. Hunter was big but genetics attributed to that, and he also sported a bit of a belly.

Why the fuck was he thinking about that? He was probably getting ready to be arrested. Really, was that in the handbook to ask at every traffic stop? If he learned one thing over his life, it was to keep his mouth shut around anyone with a badge.

The deputy stepped closer and strong, broad features came into view. If not for the beard the guy looked young, maybe a few years older than his twenty-six.

He tensed as he noticed the subtle move of the deputy repositioning his left hand on his sidearm. Hunter swung his pack off his shoulders and pulled it around to his lap. He opened the zipper and reached inside for his wallet. He took out the cards and handed them to the deputy. The man used the flashlight to check the information. The man would look closer at him if the deputy knew his background.