COOL AIR KISSED my skin and then I felt stubble on the inside of my thighs. A tongue stroked me, making me shiver.
“Colt,” I whispered.
My hands reached out to grasp his hair. I saw him in the moonlight, big and brawny, a dark shadow giving me more pleasure than I could take.
He wouldn’t let up, not even when I was coming on his tongue, shaking and moaning, crying out with need.
Colt lifted his head. “I need you.” I nodded.
“All fours.”
He flipped me over, his hands angling my hips. I felt him at my entrance and then he was inside me. I gasped at the invasion, feeling him everywhere. His thrusts were ruthless, determined to fill me up so that there was nothing but Colt.
My fingers gripped the sheets and he continued to assault my every nerve. I was liquid fire, and with each stroke it became an inferno. One hand pinned my hip, the other reached around to play with me.
Heat blazed between my legs as Colt continued to drill into me from behind. I couldn’t see his eyes. I didn’t need to, knowing they’d be full of lust.
He slammed into me and I went up in flames. My limbs gave out and I would’ve collapsed onto the bed if Colt’s hands hadn’t been there to hold me up, his fingers digging into my skin as he rammed me like an animal.
Brutal and savage. And I loved it.
“Mia,” he growled and then he came.
He wrapped an arm around me and brought us down onto our sides, mindful of my injured wrist. We were silent as our breathing and heartbeats returned to their natural cadence—and with it came the return of my anger.
I pushed away from him and scrambled from the bed, looking for my underwear, which he’d somehow pulled off of me without me knowing. Sure, I’d been woken up in a pleasurable way, but it felt like he’d done it to lull me into a state of acceptance for his behavior.
Sex was not a bandage for the wound of his emotional withdrawal.
I hit my knee on the corner of the bed and cursed, hobbling my way to the nightstand table and turning on the lamp. Colt was on his side, head propped up on his elbow, looking devastatingly gorgeous in nothing but skin and ink. His eyes followed me as I found my clothes and quickly covered myself.
“Words, babe,” he said after a moment. “Words? What words?” I snapped.
“I’m asking you to talk to me instead of cursing and running from the bed.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
He sat up, looking like a jungle cat stretching before it pounced. “I want to know what’s going on inside your head.”
“Right now? A whole mess of shit.” I stared at him. “You shut down on me today. After you talked to Dev.”
“Yeah. I did.” He nodded. “But you shut down on me too.”
“My grandmother’s house was on fire. And what the hell, Colt? We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.”
“So—talk.”
I was so angry I felt like my nerves were going to burst into flames, causing a raging wildfire within me. “You can’t come in here and wake me up the way you did, not after how you treated me this afternoon. You didn’t tell me you were leaving; you were just gone. And then you called me to tell me not to wait up.”
He didn’t reply for a long moment, studying me with a thoughtful expression.
“Where were you tonight?” I demanded. “Giving Dev a dose of his own medicine.”
“I don’t know what that means.” We stared at each other for a long moment and Colt didn’t volunteer what a dose of his own medicine meant. “What did Dev say to you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I need to know what makes you go all dark and cold. I need to know things like that so I can,” I sighed, “handle you.”
His frigid gaze matched his tone when he explained, “He said that when he got his hands on you he’d fuck you in every one of your holes until you bled, and only when you begged for death from the pain of him, he’d slit your throat. He promised to send a treasure map with your body parts marked on it so I could collect the pieces of you.”
No. Words.
I had no words.
Colt reached out and placed his hands on my hips and hauled me forward. “You’re shaking. You’re terrified like I knew you would be. I didn’t want to put that on you. I didn’t want to ever tell you what he’d said, and I shut down because I knew it was inevitable. That I would have to tell you. I gotta know you’re strong enough to hear shit like that.”
Nausea rose in my belly. I forced it down. I would not let Dev’s words haunt me. I would not give them any power.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to Colt so I just pulled him to my chest and buried my face in his hair.
He tilted his head back so he could look me in the eyes. “Are we okay?” I swept a thumb across his lips. “Yeah. We’re okay.”
“I want to see you handle a pistol.”
“You think the pistol in my glove box is for show? I can shoot.” “I want to see it with my own two eyes.”
“Fine.”
“And then you start carrying it on you. Everywhere you go.” “I don’t have a concealed carry permit,” I said.
His jaw hardened. “You let me worry about that.”
 |
The next morning, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling, trying to quell the subtle nausea that came with just a bit too much tequila.
Colt’s arm was thrown across my waist, his face pressed into the pillow. I knew by the sound of his breathing that he was awake, but we didn’t say anything to each other.
Somehow I managed to prop myself up in bed. I reached for my cell on the nightstand. Shelly had texted a few hours ago, saying that she’d left. I shot back a reply and asked if she was hungover too.
I set my phone aside and tried to get out of bed, but Colt’s fingers gripped my thigh. “Where are you going?”
His voice was gravelly and deep, and it made me think of when he’d come to me last night, needing to slake his pleasure. He’d used me in a way that hadn’t made me feel used at all.
Need erupted between my thighs, but I knew I couldn’t stay in bed and let him make me forget everything I had to face.
“I need coffee and Aspirin. And a shower,” I added as an afterthought. “Preferably in that order.”
“Yeah. Definitely a shower. I can smell the tequila coming out of your pores.”
I pulled a pillow from behind my back and swatted him with it. He tried to roll over to protect himself, laughing when I caught him in the stomach. He retaliated and easily got the pillow away from me. Before I knew it, we’d changed positions and I was on the bottom, breathing hard.
“I know a good cure for a hangover,” he said, his smile wicked, his eyes languid.
“Do you?” I murmured.
His fingers sought the place between my thighs and I winced.
“I hurt you last night.” Colt’s expression was contrite. “I’m sorry.” I let my legs fall open. “Don’t be.”
“You sure?”
“It’s a good kind of hurt.”
“I’ll be gentle this time,” he promised.
Twenty minutes later, after a very satisfying wake-up call, we both managed to get moving. I stumbled to the shower as Colt reached for his toothbrush.
By the time I was done, I was feeling marginally better. I dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a black tank. I threw my hair up into a messy bun and paraded barefoot out of Colt’s clubhouse room.
“You look like hell, darlin’,” Boxer said in way of greeting. He was lounging on a couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table.
“I showered. Don’t tell me you can smell the booze coming off me?” I asked. With a sense of familiarity, I grasped his mug of coffee and took it for my own.
“Nah, I was referring more to the fact that you’re pale and your eyes are bloodshot.”
“You know, you’re like the older brother I never wanted.” He grinned.
Colt poured himself a cup of coffee and then took a seat in the recliner. He patted his leg and I perched on his lap, happily sucking down Boxer’s coffee.
“Is no one else awake?” I asked.
“No. I mean, the kids are. They’re downstairs in the theater basement watching movies and eating cold pizza for breakfast.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Where are Darcy and Gray?” “Still conked out.”
“I want to take Mia out back to the range. I want to see her shoot. You in?”
“Hell yeah I’m in. Just as long as she doesn’t use me as target practice.” “I’m an excellent shot,” I said with a wide grin.
“That’s what worries me,” Boxer joked.
I looked at Colt. “You have a range out back?”
“Yeah, we use it as a place to blow off steam. It’s nice owning property.”
My cell buzzed in my back pocket, and I pulled it out, hoping it was a text from Shelly.
No dice.
It was an unknown number, but I refused to answer it. It was probably Dev. I silenced the call and stuck my phone into my back pocket. A moment later, I felt a buzz, knowing I had a voicemail.
Colt and Boxer were talking so I got up off Colt’s lap to get some distance. I pressed the voicemail button and listened to it, releasing a slow breath when I realized it wasn’t Dev.
When the message ended, I stood for a moment in the kitchen, feeling dazed.
“Babe?” Colt called. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay,” I murmured.
Colt and Boxer exchanged a look and then Boxer got up. “I’m gonna grab a shower. Then I want to see her shoot.”
He saluted me before he left the room.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Colt said, getting up from the recliner and coming to me.
“Richie’s lawyer just called me.” I met Colt’s dark brown gaze. “And he wants to meet with me.”
“Name?”
“Santoro. Leo Santoro.”
“I’ll check him out. See if he’s who he says he is. Then we’ll go together, okay?”
|
Leo Santoro was a short man with very little black hair left on his balding head. He was somewhere in the age bracket of forty-five to sixty- five. His brown suit did nothing for his appearance, and made him look like every other two-bit hack-job of an attorney. He was just the sort of lawyer I’d expect to represent Richie.
“Miss O’Banion,” he greeted, standing up from behind his cluttered desk. “Thank you for coming.” He held out his hand, and I shook it. It was clammy, and it took all of my willpower not to wipe my palm on my jeans right in front of him.
The room he called an office was musty and smelled of mildew. A shaft of sunlight crept through a dirty glass window and dust floated in the air, backlit so that it was much too obvious.
“Would you and your…companion like something to drink?” Leo’s eyes flicked over Colt, who stood in front of the closed door, looking menacing and ferocious.
“This is my boyfriend,” I said quickly, noting the look of displeasure on Colt’s face. He clearly didn’t like the lawyer any more than I did. “And
we’re fine. Thank you.”
I took a seat in an old, wooden chair. It wasn’t very comfortable and looked like it was about to collapse.
“Perhaps your boyfriend would like to wait outside?” Leo asked. “This is a private legal matter.”
“That’s okay. It’s fine if he stays,” I stated.
Leo shrugged. “Your prerogative. Let’s get down to it then. You’re here because Richie DeMarco ordered the transfer of the deed to Dive Bar directly to you.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
Leo opened his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. He flipped it open and took out the top paper and handed it to me. “This is the deed to Dive Bar. Richie set things up weeks ago so that you would get the bar— which is fully paid off, by the way. So long as you remain in good standing with yearly property taxes, business licenses, and insurance, the bar is yours.”
“He gave me Dive Bar?” I asked, taking the deed but not reading it. “I didn’t even know he owe it.”
“He bought it in cash years ago, and all the insurance policies and forms are up-to-date, complete with your name as beneficiary should anything happen to the bar.” Leo cleared his throat. “Richie is a stickler for paperwork.”
What an oddity, considering he had no problems getting into bed with the Iron Horsemen and stealing from them.
“I don’t understand. Why did he do this?”
“Why, I can’t say. I don’t get paid for why. I just do as my clients ask. And this client made it very clear that you now own Dive Bar. Just sign here, and this copy too please.”
I took the pen from his outstretched hand and signed my name next to a sticky arrow on the deed and a copy of the paperwork for the attorney to
keep.
“Thank you for reaching out to me, and for your time today.” I stood, making sure I had all my belongings, including the paperwork, needing to get out into the sunshine and breathe air that didn’t reek of mold and dust mites.
When we escaped the lawyer’s office, I inhaled deeply. And did it a few more times. The street smelled of grease and urine and I instantly wished I hadn’t bothered taking such a deep breath.
My head spun with everything Leo had told me; none of it made any sense at all. It only made me more confused.
“Let’s get back to the clubhouse,” Colt said. “We can talk there. Yeah?” I nodded.
We climbed into his truck. “I can’t wait to get you on the back of my bike. I hate having to take the truck everywhere.”
I held up my cast.
“Your safety is my top concern,” he said, pulling his aviators out of his vest pocket and sliding them onto his nose.
“When did you get on a motorcycle for the first time?” I asked. “Twelve.”
“That seems young.” “I was big for my age.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I bet you were.”
He grinned. “Why do you think my road name is Colt?” “Then you really are nicknamed after a young male horse?”
“No, it’s not a nickname, but a road name. Road names are given by your brothers.”
“So how did you get your name?” I queried.
He scratched the stubble on his jaw. “When I was fourteen, I went with my dad to visit another club. The meeting place was a strip joint.” He shot me an amused look. “While my dad was taking care of business, I was told
to sit at the bar, enjoy a cherry coke, and wait. Well, I heard a noise coming from one of the dressing rooms, so I went to investigate.”
His jaw clenched at the memory. “One of the bouncers had a stripper on her knees and he was forcing her to give him a blow job. She was choking on his dick and not enjoying it. Her eyes shot to mine, tears streaming mascara down her face, and before I could even think, I had my dad’s old Samuel Colt revolver out from my back pocket, and I was pistol whipping the shit out of him. I put that fucker in the hospital.”
“Holy shit, are you serious?” I asked, my mouth agape. “Completely. Told you I’m protector of women.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “You really are.”
“Does that story change how you view me?”
“I saw what you did to that shithead the night we met, remember? I— the world needs more men like you, Colt.”
His grinned. “So… do you have any nicknames?” “No. None that I’d like to remember, anyway.”
“Guess I’ll have to come up with a nickname for you then.” “I guess so.”
He started the ignition and then we drove away. Colt turned on the radio to a classic rock station, almost like he knew I didn’t want to talk and needed time to think. The papers on my lap drew my attention, but I made no move to study them.
Acid and the other prospects let us through the gate. Colt took the papers from me as we walked into the clubhouse. Cam, Lily, and Silas were eating grilled cheese sandwiches at the breakfast bar. Lily jumped off her stool and ran to me and embraced my legs. I swept her up into a hug, closing my eyes and breathing in the smell of little girl and sunshine. She was exactly what I needed after the morning I’d had.
Darcy was sitting with Gray in the living room and Rachel was drinking a bottle of Pepto Bismol.
“Still hungover?” I asked after setting Lily down. She ran to her mother and crawled up next to her.
Rachel nodded. “It’s awful. I’ve only been able to suck down coffee and eat a piece of toast.”
“I haven’t even eaten today,” I said.
“You can have half my sandwich,” Cam said, offering the mangled shred to me, complete with sticky child’s handprints in the bread.
“Thanks, but you should finish it.” I smiled and then looked at Darcy. “Where is everyone?
“Joni had a shift at the hospital,” Darcy said. “Zip went with her, much to her consternation. They got into a big argument in front of everyone.”
“I didn’t want her out there on her own,” Colt said. “Not with all this sh
—”
“Colt,” I interrupted, widening my eyes and gesturing with my chin to
the kids.
He grinned suddenly. “Stuff. All this stuff going on.”
“I agree with you,” Darcy said. “But clearly Joni had some other ideas about how it was supposed to go down. Allison—last I knew—was suffering from a bout of morning sickness and Torque has been looking after her. Cheese is conked out after being on watch last night. Reap and Boxer are at the garage and Acid and the prospects are out front—which you saw when you came in.”
She pinned me with her eyes. “You guys get done what you needed to get done?”
I shrugged. Colt had told Boxer where we were headed and apparently Boxer had relayed it to everyone. It was difficult to keep a secret from any of them. They were a close-knit family, all up in each other’s business. It was still a foreign concept to me, but I was slowly coming around to the new dynamic.
“Let’s go to the office,” he said.
I followed him down the hall. He closed the door once we were both in private. It was a small room with a desk and laptop, a file cabinet in the corner, and two chairs in front of the desk. It wasn’t a place for all the Blue Angels to congregate, but Zip and Colt often disappeared into the room to discuss things privately between them before taking it to their brothers.
Colt set down the stack of papers on his desk and waved me toward them. “Have a seat.”
I took the swivel leather chair and started pawing my way through the papers. “Why?” I asked, my hands stilling.
“Why did Richie give you the bar?”
I nodded. “It doesn’t make any sense. I was his employee. I mean, he knew me. He knew I had no one except Shelly. Besides, he told me to leave town for a while. Why would he tell me that and then give me his bar?”
“Maybe he was giving you a new chance at life if you decided to come back to Waco,” Colt said.
“But you don’t just give someone a profitable business. Richie owed nothing on the building. You know?”
“Wait a minute. Think about what you just said. Richie left you the bar, with no clear reason, right? And Dev is looking for a shipment, yes?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So Richie gets in bed with the Iron Horsemen, but it proves to be too much. So how do you wipe out your enemy? The Art of War. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
“Richie stole a shipment from Dev thinking someone else was going to get rid of Dev for him. He left you the bar because he didn’t expect Dev to be around to cause you problems. And he certainly didn’t expect Dev to catch up with him. If Dev was gone and Richie had gotten away with the shipment, he wouldn’t give a fuck about the bar; he’d be loaded.”
It was a sobering pronouncement and I nodded. Neither of us mentioned that my fate would be similar to Richie’s if Dev had his way.
We both fell silent for a moment and then he asked, “The night you dropped Richie at the bus depot, did he tell you anything? Say anything that stuck out?”
“He told me to get out of town for a few weeks. That’s all.”
I stood up and began to pace across the office and then suddenly ground to a halt. “We made a stop. Before I dropped him off at the bus depot.” I looked at Colt. “I took him to a storage unit in town. He was only in it for a few minutes and then he was back in the truck. I didn’t see what he did when he was in there, though. And he came back empty handed. I thought maybe he was dropping something off for safe keeping, but come to think of it I don’t remember him bringing anything into the unit either.”
“Do you remember which storage unit?” Colt asked.
I thought for a moment and shook my head. “No. I was too caught up in my own thoughts and wasn’t paying attention.”
“But you didn’t leave Waco to get to the unit…” “No, we didn’t leave Waco.”
“Come on,” he said, heading for the door of the office.
“Where are we going?” I demanded, as I trailed after him.
“We’re looking in your truck to see if Richie left you any information or clues.”
We walked through the clubhouse and out the front door. My truck had been moved from Charlie’s to the clubhouse parking lot.
I dug through my purse for my keys and went to the driver’s side door to unlock it. Grasping the handle, I dragged it open and then leaned across the flat bench seat to unlatch the passenger door.
I roved my hands over the floor of the truck, encountering loose change, but nothing of true value. I lifted myself up, trying to stem the feeling of disappointment. “Did you find anything?”
Colt didn’t reply; he merely arched an eyebrow and held up a silver key
—a silver key that no doubt fit into the lock on Richie’s storage unit.
“Colt Weston, you might be my good luck charm.”
|
We met Reap at a roadside diner on the outskirts of Waco. Reap and Colt sipped watered-down coffee while I consumed a hamburger and fries. I hadn’t eaten anything all day and my stomach had been gnawing itself.
“You want me to do what?” Reap demanded.
“Distract the Iron Horsemen so Mia and I can move through Waco without anyone following us,” Colt repeated.
“A diversion,” I piped up between bites, feeling like a mix between the Hamburglar and a criminal mastermind.
He glared at me but said to Colt, “You don’t want me to go with you?” “We need to stay under the radar.”
Reap ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You think whatever Richie stole from the Iron Horsemen is in that storage unit.”
“Yup,” Colt said. “But we don’t know which unit.”
“I don’t like you doing this without having someone covering your back,” Reap said.
“I’m covering his back,” I piped up. “I’ve got a pistol.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” A slow smile spread across his face.
“Brother,” Colt said softly. “I know you have my back. I need you to handle protecting the clubhouse right now, and to arrange for a diversion.”
Reap’s eyes glittered with intention and the heaviness of the situation. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll protect them—and I’ll get Boxer on the diversion. He’s good at starting shit.”
“Yeah,” Colt said with a dry chuckle. “He is.”
Reap turned to me. “Darlin’, even though you know how to shoot, I hope like hell you don’t have to.”
Wiping a glob of ketchup from the side of my mouth, I replied, “That makes two of us, dude.”
