“Maybe you’re right,” I decide. “We could go to Ryker Blackwood, tell him everything you know about Bentley. He’s just as eager to keep the slime out of his neighborhood, and he has the kind of resources we’ll need to shut Bentley’s operation down without getting my department involved.”
“Ryker Blackwood—the frontman for In Disarray? Why would you think that pretentious asshole would give a shit about justice for my sister?”
Releasing a bright cackle, I nudge his arms upward so I can remove his t-shirt, still damp from our performance. “Oh, buddy. You clearly have no idea what you’re saying.” He allows me to reposition him like a puppeteer so he’s down on his back. I hold his baffled stare as I’m unbuttoning his jeans. “I know you went to a different high school, but you said you knew my brother was a South Town Player, so you must’ve heard the rumors that my brother and Ryker were good friends…more like brothers. What do you suppose that means for me?”
“You and Blackwood are still tight?” he assumes, brows quirked.
I finish peeling his jeans from his legs and slither up the length of his magnificent body until we’re face-to-face. “My brother’s buddies—Ryker, Stone, Liam—they’re the only family I have left. Once we tell them Trask was in love with your sister, they’ll all be just as eager to sink their teeth into this beef with Bentley. Trust me when I say they’re experienced at this kind of thing.”
“You’re asking me to trust you?” He chuckles with a shake of his head. “Sweetheart, I think you’re the one who’s done a number on me, because for some fucked-up reason, I’m willing to give your hot ass another chance.”
Relieved by his sudden playful mood, I dip down to brush my lips over his. He lets out a feral sound, fisting my braids and biting down on my bottom lip before releasing me. Soon our naked bodies are rolling around together in a fight for dominance as we kiss in a way that seems fairly tinged with anger on his part.
I’ve never experienced this kind of blind acceptance, or this deep of a connection with another human being. Every movement he makes is a testament to how much he wants to be with me…proving this is real.
There was always a strong probability that he’d hate me after I told him the truth. He could’ve thrown me out, or beat me into submission. Either option would’ve been justified. I relied heavily on our mutual attraction, and the fact that he declared me to be his. I’d mentally crossed my fingers before spilling the beans, hoping that gleam I see in his eye whenever he’s looking at me was too strong for him to end it.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper against his lips. “Please don’t hate me.”
“Not sure that’s possible,” he mutters, running his fingertips over a braid. “But you have a long way to go before you fully redeem yourself.”
Vision blurred with deep regret, I shake my head. “I won’t betray you like that ever again.”
“Better fuckin’ not.”
With that he shoves his way deep inside, filling me with a rush of pleasure spiked with relief. But I know it won’t last. It can’t. There are too many factors going against us.
* * *
Early morning, I shower and slip back into the tiny shorts and leather bustier purchased for the gig, wet hair dripping down my back. In the light of day, the room’s grimier than I thought, but Trent’s as gorgeous as ever—freshly showered, large body stretched out, limbs tangled in the sheets. He watches my every move with a weary expression tugging at his features.
Late into the night, he clung to me as I whispered all the truths I’d been forced to hold back. Since I first met him, the nightmares of Trask’s death have stayed away. He also admitted he often suffered from night terrors, but hasn’t experienced any since the night I brought him home from the bar. Without any secrets left between us, we fell into a deep sleep, each of us still naked with the lingering scent of sex stronger than the musty carpet.
With every confession, I could sense things changing between us, becoming more real and more tangible. Under different circumstances, I might’ve been falling in love with this sexy man by now. But what happens once we have Bentley, and I’m taken off the case? Ethically, we couldn’t be together. It’d be wrong.
I could hand in my resignation, but then I wouldn't have an insider’s advantage. I wouldn’t be in a favorable position to ensure he isn’t arrested, or killed. It’s imperative I have the department behind me for his protection.
“What now?” he asks, baby blues following my hands as I wring my hair with a towel.
“I’m gonna head over to Ryker’s. Once I’ve brought him up to speed, we’ll set up a meeting between the three of us. I think he’ll be more receptive to offering his help if he hears everything from me first.”
Brows lowering even more, he shakes his head with determination. “I meant what happens with us. I still want you in my bed—every damn night from here on out.”
An excited rush swells in my chest with the determination in his tone. “Sure you still want me around after everything?”
“Wouldn’t fuckin’ ask otherwise.”
Dropping the towel on the floor, I rest my hands on my hips. “In that case, there’s nowhere I’d rather be. I’m expected to do whatever it takes to infiltrate your ‘operation’ anyway. And I plan on devoting every minute of the day to helping you bring Bentley down.”
He rises from the bed, large and beautiful cock swollen with urgency as he ambles toward me. Has he been hard this whole time? My tongue turns bone-dry.
“I don’t want you there, Sasha. This shit’s gonna get real dangerous. Whatever goes down with Bentley, me and the guys can handle it.”
Shuffling back from his embrace, I reply with a forced laugh. “You don’t think I can handle it? Why, because I’m a woman?” I hold my arm out between us, showing him the round scar in the crook of my elbow from my first year working in Riverdale. “That’s from a sub-machine gun. A gangbanger shot me because he didn’t want to go back to prison.” I gather my hair to one side, twisting around to show him the small scar at the base of my neck. “That’s from a hunting knife. A desperate father was ready to kill me so the state wouldn’t take his kid away.” Spinning around, I poke at his hard chest. “I was an officer for Chicago PD for years, buddy. I’ve been shot at more times than I can count. If anyone should stay out of this, it’s you. You’re not as immune to jail time.”
“Not because you’re a woman—it’s because you’re my woman.” His jaw works furiously as his sexy baby blues hold mine. “No way I’ll sit back while you put yourself in danger.”
“Then I guess we’re both going after Bentley.”
Throwing him a satisfied smirk, I rise to my toes and join our lips. A dark growl vibrates his throat before he once again fists my hair and plunges his tongue deep. I’m instantly lost in the passion behind his lips, the power of his determination.
If this is what it’s like to be in love, I’m in serious trouble. There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t sacrifice in order to make this man happy. Including myself.
Too soon he backs off, leaving me with his rich fragrance and the lingering sensation of his velvety lips. “I’m going with you to visit Blackwood.”
With a reluctant shake of my head, I sigh. “I really don’t think that’s wise on your part. I’m not sure how he’ll react at first. It might be better to give him space while he processes everything. He’s incredibly…protective.”
“Yeah? Well so am I. He’s not the only one who would tear out a man’s throat to save you.” Snarling, Trent collects his jeans off the floor. “Whether or not he’s in, I’m ending Bentley.”
A lump rises in my throat. I haven’t done a damn thing to earn his loyalty. And his determination scares me to death. His thirst for vengeance could bring a tragic end to the best thing that’s come into my life since Trask left.
* * *
The moment Ryker spots Trent trailing behind me through his backyard, his entire body visibly tenses. But his anger dissipates
when his son darts across the stone patio in a drunkard’s path toward me, pudgy bare feet pounding in little staccatos, bare tummy jiggling as he calls out, “Tee-tee! Tee-tee!”
There’s a little catch in my heart with the sound of his voice. It’s the closest he’s come to saying “Auntie,” and I find it to be quite adorable. I catch the ball of energy and mess of curly auburn hair, bringing him up to straddle my waist. His pineapple-themed shorts are still damp from swimming, and the smell of sunscreen and salt water cling to him like a second skin. Although I’m not much into children, the little guy definitely has me wrapped around his tiny finger. When he bends in to give me a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, Trent chuckles under his breath from right behind me.
“How’s my favorite little starman?” I ask Bowie as he begins to twirl his tiny fingers in my hair. “Are you being a good boy for momma and daddy?”
“Wook it,” he says, holding a golden lock out between us like he remembers I’m supposed to be a brunette.
“He’s a very good boy,” Zoe answers, rising from her spot beside her husband on the outdoor couch. “He’s almost fully potty trained.” She crosses over, giving me a sideways hug and kissing my cheek. Her woman’s intuition must be strong, because her eyes flicker to Trent for a second before she passes me a lopsided grin. “What brings you here?”
“Unfortunately, I’m here on business this time,” I say, handing Bowie over to her. “I have to speak with Ryker—alone. Do you mind giving my friend Trent a tour?”
Her beautiful face brightens with a genuinely friendly smile. “I’d love to give your friend a tour.” A part of me wants to be jealous because she’s a former stripper who’s hotter than ever in a skimpy black bikini with a gauze-like coverup, but I know better. She’s head-over-heels in love with her husband, and dresses that way solely for him. She holds her free hand out to Trent. “Hi, I’m Zoe. How would you like some fresh-baked pastries?”
Trent shakes her hand, grunting. “A guy my size? Don’t have to ask twice.” When he catches Bowie staring at him with his little pouty lips hanging open, he chuckles in a sound jollier than I thought Trent Risotto was capable of making. He holds a hand up for Bowie to high-five. “Am I right, little man?”
With an enormous smile, Bowie slaps his hand. Something inside of me shifts, turning my insides to goo. I’ve never exactly strived to start a family after surviving a nightmare childhood, but the idea of mothering a mini version of Trent sets my pulse into overtime.
“Wow! Can’t believe he’s already warming up to you!” Zoe comments with a giggle. “Come on, let’s give these two time to talk their business.”
Trent holds my gaze for an exaggerated moment before following her inside their mansion. My heart soars even more until I turn to find Ryker stomping in my direction, lips bent in a deep scowl.
“The hell you doin’, bringing that man into my home—around my wife and child?”
“He’s innocent. Well, he didn’t murder anyone at least.” I hold a hand out between us, stopping him from coming any closer. “I’m asking that you trust me on this, Ryker—keep an open mind while I tell you everything I’ve learned. You and Trent have the same goal. He wants to end the recent influx of drugs that caused the death of that poor high school girl. Trent and I agreed to work together to make it happen.”
His eyebrows bunch together as he scratches his beard. “Oh yeah? What does Sergeant Kendall have to say about your new alliance with the number one suspect on her list?”
“I haven’t told her yet. She tends to be…hard. I’m scared she’d tear me apart with her bare hands if I confided in her.”
Ryker snorts with a short, humorless sound. “She’s only like that because her peers didn’t take her seriously when she was first promoted. She had to earn respect by taking on a tough-as-nails persona. When she’s off the clock, she’s a riot. That woman and her husband really know how to have a good time.”
Well color me surprised. “Still, Trent’s convinced not everyone in the department can be trusted. And you know he’s right. You said yourself that your uncle always paid law enforcement to do his bidding. Until we find a way to nail Jonathan Bentley to the wall, I’m using Sergeant Kendall as an insider source to see just how much they know.”
Ryker’s eyes pop wide. “You’re pinning this on Jonathan Bentley?”
“Is that so hard to believe? Sergeant says he’s a slippery bastard, uses his businesses as a front. And Trent has proof that Bentley was directly responsible for the synthetic drug that killed his little sister. You must know all about Bentley’s track record.”
“Matter of fact I do know, and that’s exactly why you shouldn’t be going after him. Bentley has the kind of resources that can cause a person to disappear indefinitely. And you’re right about the department—there’s a good reason they’d want to pin everything on your friend in there if that’s really who’s behind this. Bentley has more money than my uncle ever did—it’s nothing for him to dish out millions in order to make cops look the other way.” Shaking his head, he grabs onto my elbow. “If Jonathan Bentley’s involved, you need to back out. It’s too dangerous.”
“I can’t. He’s responsible for the death of Trent’s little sister.” I lift my chin higher. “And Trask was in love with her.”
Ryker flinches, thick fingers tightening around my elbow. “You’re kidding, right? If your brother was in love with someone, I would’ve known.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I snap. “And you didn’t. He kept his relationship with Cali to himself so you guys wouldn’t give him a hard time and ruin it.”
“Did this Trent guy come up with that story? Is that how he won you over?” Brows shooting up to meet his swoon-worthy hair, he shakes his head over and over. “Hold on…are you fucking him? Is that why you believe he’s not responsible?”
“It’s not a story. Liam’s the one who told me about the connection. He and Trask met up with Cali and Trent one night at a party right before Trask was thrown in jail.” I pull my elbow from his gasp, cradling it against my side. “And my sex life is none of your goddamn business.”
“Have you lost your damn mind?” He snarls, mussing his hair. “Getting involved with this guy could be the end of everything you’ve worked for!”
“I know what I’m doing. Either you support me on this, or we do it without you. But if you really think of me as family, you won’t tell Sergeant Kendall a word of anything I just said.”
“How do you know this guy can be trusted, Sash? What if he had other reasons for wanting to bring me in on your plans?”
“He didn’t want to include you. I insisted.”
Ryker drags his fingertips through his trimmed beard, appearing as conflicted as I’ve ever seen him. “Your brother wouldn’t have wanted this life for you.”
“Bullshit. He would’ve wanted me to be safe and happy,” I snap back. “That’s all he’d care about, and you know it.”
Releasing a resolved sigh, he blankly stares back at their house. It’s as close as a “yes” I’ll be getting. I let out a small sigh of my own. If we’re bringing Bentley down, we’re going to need all the help we can get.
11
Trent
Sasha’s hella hot friend seemed to know something was up the second she led me inside their oversized house. As soon as she hands her curly-haired kid off to a nanny for a nap, leaving us alone in a kitchen fit for a 5-star restaurant, her demeanor changes. Eyes unyielding, she braces herself on the marble countertop while squaring up to me. If she was anything more than half my size, I may’ve actually been intimidated.
“After Sasha’s brother was killed, my husband took on the role of her big brother. Trask’s other bandmates, too. They’ve been through a lot with her. It’s going to take them time to accept that the two of you are together. Tread lightly…show them how much you care about her, and you’ll eventually be alright.”
“Why’d you think we’re together?” I challenge, crossing my arms.
“Your body language.” She shrugs, suddenly dropping the “tough girl” act. “I was a stripper when I met Ryker…had to read guys to determine if they were going to get violent or too frisky. It became an old habit—I tend to notice that kind of thing even when I’m not actively trying. And the intense way you look at her reminds me of the same kind of looks Ryker gives me. Like you can’t get enough, and she’s the center of your universe.” Her full lips bend with a smirk. “As long as you don’t break her heart, you and I won’t have a problem. I’m willing to play the role of a peace negotiator until things have settled, so don’t be afraid to reach out if needed. I’ll give you my number before you leave.”
“Your husband isn’t the only one who’ll need time.” I drop into one of the high-backed chairs at the island and let out a long, tired breath. Hard to believe it’s only been a handful of hours since I learned the truth. My muscles burn like I’ve recently competed in a marathon—one that has nothing to do with fucking. “Sasha only told me last night that she’s working undercover. Still trying to process that shit.”
Zoe’s whisky-tinged eyes sparkle knowingly. “She must really like you if she’s putting her badge on the line.”
“You don’t think I fuckin’ know that?” I snarl with a shake of my head. “I sure as hell didn’t ask for this. Regardless of what she thinks, I don’t plan on letting her throw everything away for a guy like me. She deserves better. There has to be another way for this to go down without her getting canned.”
Zoe’s gaze sharpens, though not as threatening as before. “Do you love her?”
Having never been asked such a thing, I flinch. Love’s not anything I’ve ever wasted my time on other than with my sister. Yet there’s a fire that spreads through my chest with her question, making it hard to deny it could be true. I’d do anything for Sasha—even after she fed me with lie after lie. Even before I knew her real name. Does that make me a sadistic fuck or what?
Undercover Rockstar: A Bad Girls novel Page 10
