“Your sister-in-law.”
His eyes look deadly. “Yeah, dumbass. I can see that. Why is Chloe in your trunk?”
“Special delivery,” I quip, thinking it’s funny. However, he does not.
He growls at me, and I know without a shadow of a doubt, he’s holding himself back from strangling me right on the spot.
Lifting my hands in the air in surrender, I tell him, “She was at Shane’s club, drinking and dancing with some guy. I was ordered to bring her home.”
“Dressed like that?”
“Yep.”
He again growls at me for my flippant answer.
“Why is she in the trunk?”
“Because the…” his eyes warn me I’m on thin ice, so I start over, “She didn’t want to leave. I had to fight the guy she was dancing with, and his friend. Then she flipped out.”
I walk around him and push my hands toward my car. “Look what she fucking did to my car, man. You’re lucky stuffing her in my trunk was all I did to her.” I purposely leave off the part about spanking her.
Vin barely pays my car any attention. Instead, I see him looking back toward the house, then back to the trunk.
Not caring what he’s thinking, I tell him, “Take her. Get her out of my trunk before I lose it. And by the way, she is going to pay for this shit.”
He looks back to the front doors of the house while I go to open the trunk, again. But he stops me by laying his hand on top of it.
“What are you doing, man?”
“You need to take her home.”
“Hell no. I brought her here. She’s delivered and she’s yours.”
“Gunner, I don’t have time for this. Brittany might come outside to see what’s going on any minute.”
“So?”
“SO?! I can’t have her finding out about tonight or seeing her sister dressed like that.”
“I don’t care. She’s your problem, not mine. I did what I was told and that’s it.”
He huffs and shakes his head at me. “Oh, yeah. Shane told you, but I’m the fucking Stern here, and I’m ordering you to bring her home.”
“What the fuck, man?”
He gets in my face and tells me, “Listen to me, Gunner. I can understand and forgive you for putting my sister-in-law in a trunk. But if Brittany sees her like this, it’s your ass. I’ll be the one ending it. You understand me?”
He stares straight at me, waiting for his words to set in. There are very few men that scare me off, but I know Vin Stern. When he says something, he means it, and if he’s told to do a job, he gets it done. It might not be right this second, or right here in this driveway, but I know if he says he will end me, he will.
Decision made; my head falls back gazing at the night sky. “I don’t know where she lives.”
“Smart man. Now…”
He tells me where to go, but before I can get back in my car, he also orders, “You will stay with her until morning. I’ll meet you there at first light.”
Before I can even start bitching, he warns, “Do not let her call anyone or go anywhere. And Gunner, if anything happens to Chloe, you will pay for it.”
With that, he walks back into the house, leaving me dreading ever stepping foot in damn Rings tonight.
Ugh. College. I didn’t know she was still in school or living in a dorm of all places. I get a sinking feeling getting out of my car. How the hell am I supposed to get her into her dorm without any problems?
Making my way to the trunk, I scan the grounds for students walking past. The coast looks clear, but it doesn’t mean it will stay this way for long. Shaking my head at the sight of my paint job again, I steady myself with a long deep breath, then an equally deep sigh. Okay, let’s do this.
I stick the key into the lock ready to pop the trunk when I take notice to the quiet. She’s not hitting or yelling anymore. Knocking once on the trunk, I ask, “Chloe? You alive in there?”
“Yes, asshole.”
All right, that’s a good thing. “We’re at your dorm. I’m going to open the trunk, but do not,” stressing the words, “give me any shit or I’ll lock you in, again. Okay?”
Silence. “Chloe?”
“I’m not going to cause a problem.”
“Sure, you’re not. What did you find in there, my lug wrench or something? You’re waiting for me to open the trunk, so you can hit me with it, right?”
I sure in the hell wouldn’t put it past her.
“Just open the damn trunk, Gunner.”
Rotating my shoulders, getting ready for anything, I take one more glance around the grounds then slowly open the trunk with one eye closed, bracing for a hit. Nothing comes, though. I look down and she’s shielding her face from me while wiping her eyes.
“Move!” she orders. Pushing up, she pulls herself out of the trunk and straightens her dress. Chloe looks completely defeated. She lifts her feet one at a time to remove her heels, and without even a glance in my direction, she begins walking to her building.
Falling in step behind her, I follow her through the building, keeping my eyes anywhere but on her tight ass, wondering what the skin must look like right now. Is it pink? Is it red? Can she still feel my hand? I’m quickly taken out of my thoughts though by a stumbling fool. Some drunk asshole trying to find his room.
“Hey. Watch yourself.”
He rights himself, then laughs as he wipes the crumbs from his taco shell off of my shoulder.
“Sorry, dude.”
He glances back at Chloe, noticing me watching her continue to walk down the hall.
“That… right there,” he points, “is a nice piece of ass, dude.”
It’s the last words he says. One punch, not even a hard one, has him sleeping off his drunkenness in the middle of the hallway.
The noise from his body falling to the floor gets Chloe’s attention and she turns around, looking horrified.
“What was that for?”
“You want to peg me for an asshole? Well, meet a fellow asshole. We didn’t hit it off.”
I’m prepared for her to mouth off, as she looks down at the… dude but she turns around, and walks off again. When she stops in front of a door, I imagine it’s hers, but she just stands there staring at the knob.
“What are you waiting for?” I grumbly ask.
“For it to miraculously open up.”
“Where’s your key?”
She looks up at me with burning anger, and says, “I lost it when you tried to force me into your car.”
“Shit!”
“Yeah,” she nods her head fast, “shit.”
She huffs, glancing down the hall. “You can go now. I’m sure one of my friends will come back soon and let me spend the night.”
“Move!” I growl.
Of course, she doesn’t, so I forcefully move her out of the way. Digging in my pocket, I pull out my tools and begin working the lock.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like, Sherlock?”
This cheap-ass lock takes very little time or effort in getting it unlocked. I turn the handle and open the door wide, waiting for her to pass. When she does, she tries to close the door on me, but I was expecting that move. My foot blocks the door.