Tracker walks over to me when he sees me, a smile playing on his lips, and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Anna Bell!”
“Don’t call me that,” I reply, raising an eyebrow at him. Tracker is friendly, easy to get along with, drop-dead gorgeous, and completely fuckable. Shoulder-length blond hair frames a handsome face with bright blue eyes and full lips. His body is impressive, lithe and toned, and covered in tattoos. Why he’s with Allie, I have no idea. I think it’s one of those things—like how good girls always finish last, because the bitch definitely won when she got her paws on a man like Tracker. The first time I came to the clubhouse, he approached me and made a comment about breaking in the fresh meat. I replied with a joke about how I was harder to get than Rake, and we both found that amusing. We’ve kind of become friends since then. Tracker is very easy to be around, and he’s a good listener. I just bonded with him from the very start.
“It’s a very cute name, for a cute lady,” he says, squeezing my cheeks, shaking my head left and right.
“Fuck off,” I tell him with a smile, slapping away his hands.
“How was class?” he asks, pulling on a lock of my blond hair. Could he be more annoying? He treats me like the sister he never had yet didn’t want, so I make sure to return the favor.
“It was okay,” I reply. “Still thinking about quitting and becoming a club whore though. It seems to hold a certain appeal.”
He laughs, a deep rumble. “Don’t let Rake even hear you joke about that.”
“What would he do? Treat me like a kid and have people escort me everywhere?” I ask, voice full of sarcasm.
“And that,” he says, smirking, “is the reason you will never be a club whore.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
He chuckles. “Your sharp tongue. We like the club women to be pliable and—”
“Stupid? Easy? Flexible?” I offer, waggling my eyebrows sleazily.
He laughs harder. “I was going to say accessible.”
My lip twitches and I shake my head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation right now.”
“It’s a normal conversation for me,” he adds.
“I’ll bet.”
“Where’s that sidekick of yours?”
I narrow my eyes on him and purse my lips. “Why do you want to know?”
I saw the way my best friend, Lana, stared at Tracker when she met him. Like he was fucking Superman or something. I caught Tracker studying her too, but didn’t think much of it until now.
I know that Lana would never be someone’s side chick, but Tracker has this way about him . . . I hope he just leaves her alone. Lana is smart, bookish, and doesn’t have much experience with men. If Tracker shows interest in her, that’s not a good thing. Allie is his woman and is so crazy—legit crazy, not just crazy in love—she’d probably claw Lana’s eyes out. I don’t miss the looks she gives me when I talk to Tracker, and I’m just a friend.
Of course, Allie might have to watch her back. Lana can be quiet and unassuming most of the time, but she has a serious temper on her. Trust me, I’ve seen it firsthand. It hardly ever comes out, but when it does, everyone is in trouble.
He shrugs like it doesn’t matter to him either way. “Just making conversation. Put those claws away, Anna Bell.”
Rake walks over to me like he’s only just realized I’ve been standing here. Which he probably did.
“Hey, sis,” he says as he rubs his scruffy jaw. Blond hair and green eyes the same shade as mine, my brother has an eyebrow piercing and lip ring that suit him. He’s good-looking and knows it.
Yes—he’s one of those men. He uses his good genes to his advantage and no woman is safe in his presence. I wonder when he’ll settle down, and the type of woman it would take to make him do it. I’m thinking she would have to be pretty freaking phenomenal, because Rake seems to like a lot of variety and never stays with one woman long enough for me to even get to know her. Okay, that’s not exactly true. Rake started acting this way only after he broke up with Bailey in high school. She was the only woman I’ve ever seen Rake pay any real interest in. I wonder what Bailey’s up to these days.
“Hey. Why did you want me to come here?” I ask him, getting straight to the point.
He looks confused. “I thought we could hang out; I haven’t seen you in a couple of days.”
I blink slowly.
“Okay. Will she be joining us?” I ask, pointing to the woman who is now standing behind him wearing a pouty expression.
“Fuck, no,” he replies, turning back and telling his tag-along something.
“Cut him some slack,” Tracker tells me softly so no one else can hear.
My mouth drops open. “But . . . but . . .”
He grins. “I know, but he’s trying.”
I know he’s trying; I do. He isn’t used to me in his space, I’m not used to being in his space, but I’m getting there. It is a lot to take on, being thrown headfirst into the MC lifestyle. I am adapting though, and know it means a lot to Rake that I try to fit in here.
When I see Rake walk past Faye and kiss her on the top of her head, my throat burns. How can he be so loving and affectionate with her but not his own sister?
I pretend his casual affection with her doesn’t hurt.
Rake says something to Faye, and she throws back her head and laughs. “What have you done now?”