Cruz (Dark and Dirty Sinners' MC #5) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,143

he created was a damn sight more complex than a little drawing.

It was clear to me that he knew what he was doing.

Not only was he creating a new building, there were all kinds of squiggles—and yes, that was a technical term—stuff that went over my head, that I didn't understand, but which he clearly did.

As much as Cruz felt like an open book to me, it was then I realized he wasn't.

He knew how to get rid of bodies using something he called a ‘personal blend’ of chemicals to do so.

And he tended bar for the MC.

As a career, it didn't exactly say much about him. And with my past, my ties to the Sinners, I wasn't totally grossed out about the body stuff. Especially when it had come in pretty handy for me.

Yet he rarely drank the liquor he served, was clean, generous with himself. He didn't use ten words when he could use three, never left stubble in the sink after he shaved, not that he had in a while and I’d admit, he was rocking that beard of his right now. He had his own soap and shampoo so he didn't steal mine, knew how to cook, and didn’t leave wet towels or dirty socks on the floor—using a word like 'perfect' was dangerous.

But could I have the perfect boyfriend?

He didn't use my toiletries, cleaned up after himself, knew how to dispose of a corpse if I got myself into a stupid situation (which unfortunately tended to happen) and didn't have an issue with hugs or being affectionate in general. He knew how to spank me, knew how to get me wet, and my orgasms felt more important to him than his own did.

Yeah, pretty fucking perfect.

Yet the technical design that was coming more and more to life each and every time I left my workstation and returned to the front desk, was proof of him being so much more than the sum of what I'd learned. It was proof of a past he hadn't shared.

Much like with his mom.

It was quite clear to me that he had skills, skills that required a good education. So why was he the Sinners' Grim Reaper? And why was he content to just serve them tequila for the rest of his life?

These were all thoughts that whispered through my mind as I worked, and when the day was done, and I could close up, we headed to the diner that was a few doors down, and ordered a couple of sandwiches.

This was pretty much the first date we'd ever been on, which I knew sounded crazy, but when you were hiding that you were dating, and then your boyfriend's home got blown up, dating didn't exactly feel like a priority.

Was it weird that I thought people might be watching us?

Not because Cruz was covered in ink. I always expected gawkers, especially with someone as heavily tattooed, and all on visible parts like his throat and hands, as Cruz was.

Maybe somewhere else, that would be the issue.

But it was his cut that drew attention, just as I'd feared.

But that word hit me. It hit me hard.

Feared?

I was tired of being scared, and Cruz, even though he was a book of secrets, made me happy. He made me less scared, so that meant I had to get over myself.

Being with a biker wasn't something I'd ever intended on doing, but I was definitely doing him, and I had no intention of stopping. Reputation meant nothing, danger meant nothing in the face of something I'd been seeking all my life—peace. Which was exactly what Cruz gave me.

As we were both served our Reubens, I murmured, "You've been quiet today."

He shrugged. "It's been a long time since I made such technical plans for a building."

That gave me pause. "I didn't realize you were an architect."

He snorted. "I'm not. But I have similar training. I majored in Structural Engineering, don’t forget. Even if it was a long ass time ago." He whistled under his breath before he took a large bite of his sandwich.

Toying with the pile of chips that had been served with the Reuben, I wondered, yet again, what the hell was he doing in a MC? Why wasn't he tucked away in an office in Manhattan? Earning a hundred-K-a-year and getting a bad back from a less-than-ergonomic desk chair?

He grunted. "I can hear the questions in your head without you even having to ask them," he said wryly. "It's crazy actually,