by Jennifer Ann
“No.” I pause to flinch with the mention of Trask’s little sister. Rook and his social worker/girlfriend kept Sasha hidden after Trask was arrested on the bullshit murder charges, convinced my uncle was after both siblings. When she was put into Witness Protection, they were told she’d be free to leave when she turned eighteen. “You?”
“Not a word.” He shakes his head with sadness creeping into his tight features. “Always thought she’d come back to find us after she graduated. Every damn day I worry she got sucked back into the South Side ways. It’s hard not to fear the worst when we haven’t heard anything, considering we were all she had for family.”
My heart clenches in agreement. “She could’ve found a better life, and it was too painful to return. Or maybe she heard you and Brooke left the South Side, and decided there was nothing left for her here. You two weren’t exactly easy to track down.”
His lips press into a rigid line. “You sayin’ you tried?”
“Several times. Finally found something online about you and your wife receiving a humanitarian award through the women’s shelter you set up in Stamford. It’s honorable what you two are doing.”
He answers with a deep grunt. “Pay’s shit, but we both feel an obligation to try and save anyone going through the same hell we did.”
“The South Side could really use a place like that. You might’ve noticed things haven’t improved any since you left.”
“Even if we had the money to start a shelter here, I’m not so sure I could get Brooke to come back. She fell in love with the East Coast. We spend all our free time in Manhattan, and a few weeks every summer in Montauk. Best part? I haven’t slept with a gun under my pillow in years. It’s peaceful out there. I won’t have to worry about my kid getting mugged on the way to school.”
Jealousy surges through me. At least one of us made it out. He found a remarkable woman, and lives a good life, free of violence. Most days I’m merely thankful I’m alive, and not behind bars. For a confusing moment, I picture Zoe waiting in the other room, and wonder if I could have the same kind of life with someone like her.
Shaking her from my thoughts, I offer my hand to my old friend. “I’m happy for you, Rook. Means a lot that you came back.”
He surprises me by throwing his arm around my neck and slapping my back. “We’ll find him.”
I don’t answer, because I can’t. The lump in my throat is too damn big to swallow.
Near the end of rehearsal with the guys, I catch Zoe watching from the back of the room. Watching me. Perched on a pile of crates, she holds the shop’s cordless phone, golden legs that go on for miles crossed as she all but devours me with a wanton expression. Not sure how I finish off the set without unmanning myself. Those big doe eyes and her tight body were made to seduce men. Even though I still don’t like it, she was wise to choose a profession where she could put her best assets to their maximum potential.
I haven’t had a chance to explain that we won’t be going to my place after closing the shop. Between running through songs, and devising the next step in finding my brother—one that involves Rook doing more leg work with Bender’s girlfriend, and digging around a little more on practices of the Martyrs of Mayhem—we haven’t had a minute alone. With any luck, she’ll agree to come to the gig, and my place after. My balls clench with the idea of finally having her alone.
Stone hollers in a dark sound as we’re packing up. “That was better than fucking!” I turn to see him slapping hands with Rook. “Good to have you back, brother.”
Morrison rises behind the drum-kit, laughing while rolling his eyes. “If you think that was better than fucking, you’re doing it wrong.”
“Load this shit up, boneheads,” I tell the guys. Glancing over my shoulder, I discover Zoe’s gone. “I’ll be right back.”
Rook’s dark chuckles fall behind me as I’m leaving. “Still a bossy motherfucker.”
Ignoring the heckling that follows, I make my way past three employees hard at work in front of the shop. They bust their asses without fail to make a decent living while the other clowns are jacking off in back. I make a note to give them a raise just before I find Zoe behind the service desk, visibly trembling and pale.
Anger coats my veins with the sight of the man standing across from her.
Terrance Fisher has made a rare appearance.
In his signature fedora and a white sports jacket, you’d think the shady bastard was headed to Cuba rather than slumming the streets of the South Side. Despite being a couple inches shorter than me, my uncle’s former henchman is intimidating as hell with the kind of jacked-up face that makes kids cry. And I know the level of darkness he’s capable of delivering. My stomach surges when I wonder what he said to upset Zoe. Someone at the club must’ve told him my uncle’s back, and that Zoe was somehow involved.
As I start for them, I take note of his two thugs standing just outside the door. If I threaten the new, unofficial South Side King in any way, they’ll drop my ass in seconds. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve tangled with them, and I doubt it would be anything close to the last.
“What the fuck are you doin’ in my shop?” I demand, squaring up beside him.
His disfigured face, scarred from years of violence, twists with a maniacal smile. “Just catching up with an old friend’s daughter. I wasn’t aware that Miss Jackson was under your employ until I paid a visit to her little sister.”
He was at her house?
“Calling yourself a friend of Freddie’s is a bit of a stretch,” Zoe snarls through clenched teeth.
Seeing her unsettled really messes me up inside. “What do you want with her, Fisher?”
The prick continues smiling, like we’re carrying on a pleasant conversation. “I was hoping to get a lead on her father’s whereabouts.”
Shoulders dropping, I thank fuck it has nothing to do with my uncle. Then my blood heats a little more when I remember the shit Zoe had to say about her spineless parents. “Whatever business you have with her old man, it has nothing to do with his daughters. Leave them out of it.”
“Or what?” He leans in, his twisted smile deepening. “It sounds an awful lot like you’re threatening me, Blackwood. And for what? A piece of South Side trash who earns her keep by sticking her tits in men’s faces to get them off? You sure you want to go there?”
Adrenaline spikes my heart. In any other situation, I would’ve laid anyone flat for calling her that, but I’d be lucky if I walked away without getting shot. My fingers flex helplessly at my sides. “I strongly suggest you get the fuck outta here before I add another scar to that ugly mug. Go back to whatever hole you’ve been hiding in, Fisher. Leave Zoe and her sister the fuck alone.”
One of his thugs perks to attention, looking ready to repeat the pistol whipping he gave me not too long ago. But Terrance holds out a hand, keeping him at bay while releasing a dark laugh. “You’ve made your point. But Mr. Jackson owes me a sizable chunk of change.” Glancing Zoe’s way, his tongue slides over his lips. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to collect on the debt.”
Rage tightens my throat. I’ll die before I let him lay one finger on Zoe. “Did you not hear me? Leave! Now!”
Terrance swipes a mint from the dish meant for customers, eyes hard on mine while he casually slips it from the wrapper. “Always a pleasure doing business with Marty’s failed protege. Be sure to give me a call if you happen to remember your uncle’s whereabouts.” As he’s shuffling backwards, he pops the mint into his mouth, and throws Zoe a wink. “Be seeing you around, my dear.”
Nostrils flaring, I follow him out to the parking lot, eyes trained on the bastard until he’s in the back of a town car, and it pulls out into the street.
Zoe lets out a quiet huff behind me. “You didn’t have to get involved.”
“The hell I didn’t! That man’s a sadistic fuck!” I finally turn to her, anger instantly thawing with the site of her wavering expression. The muscles in my arms burn to wrap aroun
d her. “You okay?”
She wipes at the corner of her eyes, laughing while looking away. “Freddie’s a bastard. I wouldn’t put anything past him. He probably told Terrance I’d pay off his debt.”
“How much does he owe?”
Her big brown eyes hold mine as she shrugs half-heartedly. “That’s a good question. I’m guessing it’s a lot the way Terrance isn’t backing down. Freddie has a habit of gambling with money he doesn’t have. I’m surprised he hasn’t offered our house up as collateral.”
“Next time Terrance tries to make contact with either you or your sister, you call me. Right away.”
“What are you going to do about it?” The smile on her lips dies when I scowl.
“Whatever it takes to keep him the hell away from you.”
As her cheeks blush pink, she crosses her arms underneath her breasts. “The band sounds great. Guess we won’t be gettin’ together later.”
“Still can.” I close the distance between us with one long stride, running my fingertips along the back of her silky soft arms. I’m all at once hard when her curvy body pushes into mine, and her thick lips part with a sharp breath. “Come catch our gig. I’ll take you to my place after.”
“I want to…more than anything…but I should check in with my sister,” she whispers among a ragged breath. “Feed her supper. Make sure she isn’t committing any felonies.”
Jesus, this woman is going to be the death of me. Her hard tits push through her shirt with every breath, begging to be sucked. I want to be buried deep inside her already, erasing any unease left from Terrance’s visit. “Go home and get her. I’ll buy you burgers. We’ll drop her off on the way back to my place.”
Her chin dips with the smallest of nods, causing my cock to twitch in excitement. By the end of the night, I intend to be buried balls deep in this gorgeous woman.
6
Zoe
Charlize chomps on her Juicy Lucy while thoroughly eyeing the little bar. “Burgers are fucking amazing, but this place is filthy. Feels like we’re still on the South Side.”
I pop a fry into my mouth, nodding in agreement. Although teetering on the poverty line doesn’t afford me the luxury of being a regular bar-fly, I’ve been here a few times with Raven. Despite being a total dive, it was once known for hosting a tasteful array of famous bands. Tasteful decorations, not so much. Bras strung from the small antler of a poorly done taxidermy job on a deer bust, olive-colored wallpaper from three centuries back peeling, horrendous patterned tile that clashes with the upholstered stools, it’s a total shithole. There’s an odd stench hanging in the air that can only be a blend of mildew and poor decisions. The way it’s packed with patrons makes me wonder how many came just to see In Disarray.
I was surprised when Charlize agreed to come along, although it was most likely because she’s tired of nursing home dinners. Lucky for her, Raven said she’d throw them in the fridge for tomorrow.
More than anything, I’m grateful for Charlize’s company so I don’t get too caught up in the fantasy of what will happen with Ryker after the show. All day long I was unable to push his promise to lay his hands on me from my thoughts. Ryker Blackwood’s definitely one of the most complicated men I’ve met. He oozes intensity with every movement, no matter what he’s doing.
Ready for a drink to sooth my frayed nerves, I flag down a bartender. He’s in his mid 30s with shoulder-length, straw colored hair, big caramel-colored eyes, and a stoner’s hoodie with the sleeves cut off. Hands braced on the bar, he flashes me a cute smile. “Haven’t seen you around these parts, sweetheart. What’s your poison?”
“Her name’s Zoe.” Ryker’s dark voice rolls in my ear as he steps beside me, unlit cigarette dangling between his kissable lips. “She’s not your fuckin’ sweetheart, Dino.”
I eye my object of obsession with appreciation, aroused beyond all comprehension. Hair artfully messed, tight black jeans, a black t-shirt, biker boots, and a lightweight black leather jacket, Ryker’s sex on a stick. A rock god in the flesh. Not some scrawny wannabe like that pop singer guy, Adam Levine. Mixed with the rich scent of leather and mossy cologne, I’m instantly reduced to a bundle of heady desire.
The bartender narrows his eyes at Ryker. “Don’t you fucking light that thing in here, Blackwood. I don’t need MDH on my case again. You still owe me for last time.”
“Quit busting my ass, and get these beautiful women whatever they want to drink.” Tucking the cigarette behind his ear, he digs in his wallet and slaps a hundred dollar bill on the bar top. “I’m paying for their food, too.”
Dino crooks an eyebrow, eyes darting between me and Charlize. “Ladies?”
“Anything local on tap,” I say.
Charlize nods. “Same for me.”
I roll my eyes. “She meant a diet soda.”
“What am I, ten?” my sister huffs as Dino walks away.
“You’d think,” I mutter. I turn to face Ryker, finding him intensely studying my tight tank top and skirt. With the heat of his gaze, a warm tingle passes down my spine, sending an explosion of tingles cascading through my belly. “You didn’t have to pay, but thank you. This is my sister Charlize.”
He throws her a dazzling smile that makes me envious. I selfishly want all his affection reserved for me. “Ryker Blackwood.”
“No shit,” she answers with a little snort. “This is only like the tenth time I’ve seen one of your shows.”
Jaw dropping, I turn to her. I know she’s into music, but I had no idea she’d been following the band so closely. Another little trickle of envy hits me. The few times I was able to catch them, I relied on Raven’s connections to get us in for free. And most of the places they’ve played don’t serve food, meaning you have to be over 21 to get in. Considering I shredded Charlize’s last fake ID at the beginning of the year, I’m guessing she’s had it replaced.
“How the hell have you managed that?” Then I wave her off. “Wait—forget it. I don’t wanna know.”
Ryker rests his hand on the bar stool behind me, chuckling. The deep timbre vibrates through my chest. My lips tingle as I watch his draw back with a smile. Having them so close without being able to kiss them is the worst kind of torture. “Probably makes you our number one fan.”
I struggle to pull in a breath when his thumb slowly drags across my back, and his hard cock presses against my arm. I squeeze my thighs together before a moan slips loose.
Clearing my throat, I push away from the bar. “I have to run to the bathroom.” I point at my sister, eyes narrowed. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone. Understand?”
She lifts a middle finger, eyes glazed over with boredom. “Stop treating me like I’m a toddler.”
“Then stop acting like one.” Rolling my eyes, I turn to Ryker. “Can you show me to the bathrooms?”
Clear blue eyes dancing with understanding, he nods once and reaches for my hand. I may as well be holding onto a live electric fence as he leads me away at a brisk pace. I’m beyond giddy when he continues past the door with WOMEN written in bold letters, grateful his mind is on the same track.
Before I can wrap my head around what’s happening, we’re out a back door and he’s pushing me against a brick wall, sliding those gloriously full lips over mine. My heart lurches into my throat as I close my eyes and fist the back of his shirt, shamelessly grinding against the giant erection teasing my burning flesh. His warm tongue explores every crevice of my mouth when it’s not tasting and gliding with mine.
Holy shit. It feels like I’ve been wanting to kiss this man since birth, and it’s everything I imagined. His thick lips, bold and needy, fill my stomach with an army of fluttering wings. The faint taste of nicotine and something minty fills me as I mirror every stroke of his tongue with guttural moans. Fingers dig into my skull, tilting my head back so he’s able to surge deeper and deeper until I’m sure he’s tasting my tonsils. Rather than being awkward or forceful, it has me panting and vibrating from head to toe.
It’s an explosive, mind-numbing kiss that I could never erase from my memory in a hundred years—not that I’d ever want to do such a thing. Doubt I could ever forget the stench of garbage made warm by the summer air either, but I power past it, basking in the scent of the beautiful man pleasuring me in ways I’ve only dreamed of with the mere strokes of his tongue and burn of his facial hair on my mouth.
As our lips slide together, my hands go on a journey of their own, exploring the softness of his dark hair and beard before sliding underneath his t-shirt. I melt with the myriad of ridges covering his chest, the way his nipples pebble with my touch, and the ripple of his washboard abs. Christ on a cracker, he’s the manliest of men in every way possible. When I reach the button on his jeans, I eagerly yank it open, slipping a trembling hand beneath the elastic on his underwear to grip the iron rod intent on destroying me with its ferocity. The smooth flesh scorches in my hand, and it’s oh so big. Intimidatingly big.
Ryker pants into my mouth, digging his fingers deep into my scalp while thrusting into my hand. I open my eyes to watch his slack expression, thrilled to be the one giving him immense pleasure. I’ve never seen anyone quite so beautiful losing total control because of something I’ve done. It sends a wild wave of satisfaction through my core, turning me on in ways I never thought possible.
Sensing he’s teetering on the edge of exploding, I detach my lips to nuzzle the soft bristles of his beard. The caliber of my attraction toward him is unmatched. I can’t wait any longer to pleasure him, and get a taste of his skin. “How long before you go on stage?”
“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Good.”
I pass my lips over his with a featherlight touch before lowering, simultaneously pulling his jeans and underwear down his thighs. His thickness bobs before me in the warm air, lined with dark veins, domed tip glistening in the streetlight over our heads. I’ve never voluntarily gotten on my knees for a man before. And although I’m not usually a connoisseur of cocks, the one staring back at me is as delightful as any I’ve seen. I’m salivating as I lick the salty dollop off its head.
