Lunchtime Chronicles: Carolina Reaper

by Keta Kendric

  She glanced around when water started to come into view. Her attention was lured away from the sexual tension growing stronger between us when we drove along the path leading into the Charleston Harbor Marina. I hadn’t missed her biting into her lip and her squirming against me despite the vibrating core of the motorcycle beneath us.

  The tense set of her hunched shoulders, and her searching gaze, hinted that she wanted to say something about where we were. However, her knowing that I had no qualms about gagging her if I needed her to shut up had her pinching her lips together tightly as she glanced around.

  Once I drove up, parked, and cut the engine, I tucked her legs tighter around me before I stood. Dammit! The feel of her all warm and soft against me was fucking with my heads. I had never claimed to have a type, but after one look and one touch of Zyana, I knew that she was it. My motto had always been to fuck them once and forget them, but I got the sense that she wasn’t the type to be easily forgotten.

  I kept my eyes locked on hers as a distraction so that she’d remain unaware that I had pulled my knife. I reached behind my back and carefully cut the zip-ties to free her from me. She took cautious steps back, eyeing me to gage my next move.

  “This way,” I said, stepping away before she could start shooting that mouth off again. She followed, her light steps hesitant as she rubbed her wrist and sent her head jetting around our surroundings.

  “This is where you live? I thought bikers lived in trailer parks. You know, in the poor white-trash parts of town.”

  I smiled, wise enough to know that she was baiting me.

  “One part of that statement is true. I’m white, but I’ve never lived in a trailer park, and I’ve never been poor, or trash.”

  “Calling it like I see it.” She shrugged. “The way you look and dress and even what you ride—you don’t look like you own a boat this nice.”

  “Snake Eyes,” she said, reading off the name painted in big blue letters against the boat’s white exterior. “Is this your boat, or did you kill the owners and pirate it for yourself?”

  I cast a hard stare at her over my shoulder. “It’s going to take a lot more than insulting words to piss me off if that’s your new tactic at getting me to release you. Now, are you going to behave, or do I need to break out the zip ties again?”

  She didn’t render a reply but continued to follow my march to the edge of the pier that would lead to the boat’s deck and its entrance. Once I was at the door, I keyed it open and waved my hand for her to enter first.

  “Unladylike first,” I stated and could have sworn she smiled before strolling past me.

  Once inside, I locked us in with two pressing concerns ripping my mind apart. How the hell was I going to keep her strong-willed ass from running? More importantly, how the hell was I going to keep myself from fucking her?

  Chapter Three

  Zyana

  This couldn’t have been his boat. He was a dirty-looking biker. Maybe not dirty, but dangerous looking enough for me not to feel safe with him, even if my brother did send him. Okay, so maybe he had that hot white boy thing going for him, but it wouldn’t be the first time a woman found a serial killer sexy.

  Those damn arresting, light-green eyes, that tall sexy body, and his strong masculine physique made me forget I was mad. And how could I forget his dick print in those jeans? If he was packing what I thought I felt, there were some broken down vaginas in Charleston.

  Focus dammit! Focus! I reprimanded myself. The man was crazy. Who in their right mind zip ties a woman to their body? Who in their right mind smashes his hard dick into a woman they’ve just met and think it’s okay? Who in their right mind shoots people dead without a second thought?

  I hadn’t mentioned the bodies he’d dropped for fear that my ass would be next. Thankfully, the dark area saved me from the sight of the horrific images. How was I supposed to get in touch with my brother? Did this man even know my brother?

  Now, I was alone with this homicidal lunatic, trying to focus long enough to hatch an escape plan. And the way he kept staring like he was ready to rip my clothes off had me itching to take out the small can of mace I kept in my purse, my killer-be-gone spray.

  He had taken a seat, but I continued to stand, rooted in place at the front door.

  “Here. Your brother wants to speak to you.” I spun at the deep rumble of his voice before my gaze dropped to the phone in his hand. Three quick steps put me in front of him before I snatched it from his grip.

  “Major!” I yelled, not caring that insane-in-the-membrane was ogling me.

  “You okay, sis? Israel told me that you two ran into a little trouble at the restaurant.” I rolled my eyes before spinning and putting my back to crazy ass.

  “A little trouble?” I hissed the question at my brother in a low tone. “Do you know this guy? Why didn’t you ever tell me about him if you do?” I continued questioning Major while casting a side-eye over my shoulder in Israel’s direction on the couch.

  “He and I are…complicated. Kind of like I never tell you details about my cases because of the danger. He’s that kind of complicated.”

  “If he’s so complicated, why the hell did you send him for me? The man’s crazy. He dropped two bodies like it was nothing, and—”

  The dark shadow that emerged was draped over me like it intended to swallow my soul. Israel was standing behind me; his six-foot-forever frame was looming over me like a dark angel.

  “I know. He already told me he had to put two men down and zip tied you to calm you down. Please stay with him. I trust him to keep you safe.”

  My brother couldn’t have been serious. I chanced a glance back, rolling my eyes now that I knew my tattling session with my brother wasn’t going to work. When the hell did he have the opportunity to tell Major that he’d tied me up and killed men?

  “Z,” Major called. “I need you to stay with him until I get this shit straightened out. If something happens to you because of me—” he stopped abruptly, unwilling to allow me to hear the sadness that was dulling the strength of his tone.

  Major had always taken care of me. Our mother ran off when I was two, leaving our father to raise us. After our father was murdered, Major, at twenty-two, assumed responsibility for me, and I was a handful at sixteen. He was the one who paid my beauty school tuition and my rent until I was financially stable. Therefore, if he believed putting me in the hands of a man who looked like he had served out his time on a first-degree murder charge was a good idea, I’d have to find a way to live with it.

  “Okay. Be careful. I love you,” I stated, my voice cracking.

  “Love you too, sis,” he returned before the line went dead. Without turning to face him, I handed Israel his phone across my shoulder and hugged myself after he’d taken it.

  “Would you like to take a shower and get some rest? We’ll head for the compound tomorrow.”

  I spun on my bare heels like I had wheels under my feet. “Compound?”

  “Yep. My motorcycle club has its own compound. We call it Ground Zero, and it’s one of the safest places in the state.”

  Safer for the outside world. I nodded despite my thoughts, not knowing what else to do. He lifted a hand, pointing to what I assumed were the bedrooms before he took off.

  When I stepped into what I discovered was the only bedroom, Israel was handing me a small bundle of clothes. I took my time staring around, taking in the lux blue shade of the paint on the walls and soaking in the neat coziness of the room. A queen bed was draped with a stylish gold comforter and four fat, fluffy pillows. Small bedside tables with matching lamps atop them sat on either side of the bed, and a dresser that matched the gold trimming of the headboard sat along the passageway to the bathroom.

  When I finally accepted the clothes, I noticed it was a new plain white T-shirt and a pair of his boxer briefs that he had thankfully taken from new packs still sitting atop the dresser.

  “Thanks,” I mouthe
d with no enthusiasm. “Where are you sleeping?” I asked.

  He pointed at the bed.

  “Where am I sleeping?” I questioned with a brow stuck in the air. He pointed at the same bed.

  I laughed. “I’m not sleeping with you.” I leaned in a little closer, with my brows pinched tight to observe him better. “You really are crazy, aren’t you?”

  He pursed his lips like my words did nothing but bounce off of him.

  “You don’t have a choice. You’re a flight risk. You’ve tried to run twice, so now you and I must stay joined at the hip.”

  I cast a glance back at the living room, thinking about the comfortable-looking couch he’d been sitting on.

  “The couch makes my back hurt,” he stated, cutting into my thoughts. He aimed his thumb across one of his set shoulders.

  “Bathroom’s that way. Please be quick because the hot water doesn’t last long.”

  I didn’t render a response before I strode away and closed myself in the full-sized bathroom. There was no lock on the sliding door, so wedging something under the knob crossed my mind until my brother’s voice surfaced, telling me that he trusted the guy.

  After adjusting the water, I peeled my dirty and damp clothes off, realizing that they were also drenched in my sweat from the humid June air and my having to run for my life.

  I jumped into the shower, allowing the spray of hot water to wash away a little of my stress. However, nothing would take away the worry I clung to for my brother’s safety. I was also having trouble digesting all that had happened tonight. Unknown people had not only tracked me down, but were attempting to kill me. If Israel hadn’t been there, I’d probably be dead.

  The door sliding open sounded over the spray of the water, making me snap my head in the direction of the door.

  “I’m not done,” I called out. “Give me a few more minutes,” I added when the door wasn’t immediately shut.

  The sound of movement inside the bathroom made my heartrate kick frantically and forced me to slide the frosty glass door open and peek out.

  “What the fuck are you doing in here? I’m in the shower. Have you lost what’s left of your mind?” I shouted, setting the small bathing towel in place over my lady parts, and my hand and forearm across my tits. My saucer-wide eyes were stuck staring at him.

  Israel stripped off his shirt without replying or acknowledging me and proceeded to reach down and yank off his socks. My eyes bucked at the sight of all of that viral, strong…maleness.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked, cutting into my own sick thoughts. “Get out! Are you deaf?”

  “Are you deaf?” he spit the question back at me, finally glancing up. “I told you the hot water doesn’t last long, and I don’t feel like waiting another thirty minutes for the water to heat back up.”

  “What’s wrong with you? How the hell are you just going to walk in on me taking a shower? Don’t you have any manners? You better get your crazy ass out of this bathroom. You’re not getting in here—”

  My words were stopped in their tracks when he started to undo his pants. With his predatory eyes firmly set on mine, he popped the button, slid the zipper down, and sent his pants and his boxer briefs on a quick downslide.

  At this point, I clutched my tits tighter and squeezed the small towel more securely against my lower parts. I jumped when the cold tile of the shower’s wall kissed my back, realizing I’d been backing away from the sight of him the whole time.

  When he stood fully upright, my eyes would not behave, as they went straight to his dick and locked on the thing. It wasn’t even hard, and it was bigger than any I had seen. I swallowed a mix of fear and stress while my heart kicked out the erratic cadence that had started in my chest.

  The man had a firm, athletic build, not ripped like a bodybuilder, but toned and strong, with a mouth-watering appeal that called to the part of my brain that conceived images of sex. Even the thin hair on his chest and happy trail below his belly button was straight sin. His delicious tan hinted that he had a flirting relationship with the sun, a light caramel that made his skin look like it would melt in your mouth.

  His hair was short and wavy, no more than an inch, and the stubble on his jaw added to the sexy. And those attention-getting eyes of his. Jesus. The man could do anything to me right now, and my crazy ass was standing there doing a rundown of his body statistics.

  Him reaching for the shower door forced me to drag my eyes away from his man-meat. Dear diary, the man was hung like someone’s prize-winning stallion. I was scared to death of what he might do to me, but my tangled-up mind kept wanting to linger on what my eyes stubbornly refused to stop observing.

  Unwilling to flash him by shoving him away, I shook my head and squeezed myself even deeper into the wet shower wall. The shower was large enough in area space for two, but Israel was tall, and his built body didn’t leave much in the way of air or space.

  Once he had stepped in, he closed the door as casually as if I weren’t even there and stepped under the spray of the hot water.

  “You. You.” I couldn’t spit out my words as I blinked rapidly at the water that splashed off his skin and dotted my face. “What are you doing?” I asked in a breathless murmur, unable to comprehend this man’s bold actions.

  “I’m taking a shower. I told you about the hot water, and since you insisted on staying your ass in here, this is what you get. Me in here with you.”

  He dipped his head under the spray and let the water wash all over his hair and run down his body with me standing at his side, watching, completely dumbstruck. My stupid ass eyes chased the water as it rained down his wide shoulders and muscled back, and farther down his tight ass and around to his dick. The bulging muscles in his powerful thighs flexed as he moved leisurely to allow the water to flow all over him.

  There were tattoos everywhere. His left arm was a full sleeve, and his back, shoulders, chest, and legs all sported ink. There were cuts, knife wounds, and even what might have been a gunshot wound in his upper back, accompanied by a long vertical scar below it.

  His penetrating eyes were heavy with lust when he lifted them and pinned me where I stood. Droplets of water dripped from his face, pooling along his long thick lashes as he kept those eyes on me. “There’s about seven minutes of hot water left. I suggest you finish up.”

  He went on soaping up while I stood in place, losing my mind to shock, watching him, and waiting for the moment when he’d snap and release more crazy. He went on about his business, washing everything with ease and no shame.

  I released a yelp before I jumped, banging my back into the wall when he reached up and planted his hand above my shoulder, using the leverage against the wall to reach down to wash the bottom of his legs and his feet. The positioning gave me a better view of that part of him that was now stiff, powerful, and overwhelmingly mesmerizing.

  Dear Lord. The damage he could do with that thing would be irreversible. Once he was done lathering up, he repeated the rinse cycle under my probing gaze. My throat remained dry under a constant spray of water, but my eyes didn’t miss the bubbles teasing their way down his body.

  When he’d finished, and I was sure I was ready to pass out from the obscene mixture of fear and what I think was lust flowing through me, he stepped out. He opened a cabinet, took out a towel, and started drying off. When he was somewhat dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out.

  I had no idea if I’d been holding my breath the whole time he’d been in the shower with me, but once he was out of sight, I released and sucked in air like I was learning how to breathe for the first time.

  Chapter Four

  Israel

  Ms. Loudmouth Zyana talked big shit until I got that damn heart rate of hers pumping. When I’d hopped into the shower with her, she didn’t know whether to fear me or lust after me. I preferred both but figured I’d better tone it down a bit before she tried to take off on me again.


  The sight of her cautious approach in my T-shirt with no bra caught and trapped my gaze. She’d pulled her damp hair into a ponytail, and those sexy brown legs against the white of my shirt probably had me looking every bit as crazy as she’d labeled me earlier.

  She was one sexy ass woman with enough of everything I liked. Usually a woman had one thing and was missing another, but Zyana had it all. Nice full, real tits, shapely legs and thighs, and an ass plump enough to make you forget yourself. It had taken everything I had to keep from getting hard at the sight of her naked in the shower, but nothing worked, even with her hiding parts of herself from me.

  Inviting her to climb into bed, I flipped the covers back and sat, waiting to see if she would continue to fight me, although, she knew I was crazy enough to take things to the extreme with her. My actions tonight must have scared the fight right out of her because she eased into bed, putting her back to me, and dragging the covers up to her neck.

  I reached over and flipped the light off on my side of the bed, plunging the room into darkness. The porthole, the only semblance of a window, cast a moonlit glow into the room and enough light for me to make out her form.

  “How do you know my brother?” she asked in a low tone. I smiled, glad she was getting the point that she was stuck with me. “He usually tells me everything. Well, except stuff about his cases, but he’s never mentioned you.”

  “We’ve been friends for about ten years. He never told me about you until a few hours ago when he asked me to be your protection.”

  “Are you an undercover cop like him? Is that how you know him?”

  “No. We had a common interest that led us to the same place.”

  She released a deep sigh and flipped to face me, her weight barely shifting the mattress. My eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to make out the sexy outline of her features.