Bad Boy's Last Race

by Dallas Cole

  “Please.” Her eyes are glistening. “I want to help you. And I want to stop Tyler. Let me do this. I promise you, I can.”

  “Sophie . . .”

  “I love you so much, Jagger.” She smiles. “Let me help.”

  I cup her cheeks, unable to stop myself from grinning, too. “I love you, too. I hope you see that by now.”

  “I do. And I hope you know by now—I always fight for what’s mine.”

  I laugh, low and throaty. “Oh, I know you do.”

  The tension eases between us. We have a plan, and we’re together. It feels me with warmth. With appreciation for this incredible goddess before me. I cup her cheek and tip my mouth down.

  Sophie’s mouth tilts up toward mine. She kisses me like sunshine, the first fucking ray I’ve had in the past several shitty days. I part her lips with my tongue, tasting every inch of her, trying to memorize her taste and her scent and that soft gasp she makes when she’s just starting to get turned on.

  We stand up, and I back her against the wall between the kitchen and the living room and press the length of my body against hers. God, I’ve missed her so much, needed her, been dying to feel her pressed against me . . . I think we both need this release. She arches her back into me, and my cock swells, straining against my jeans already. Easy, boy. I tease back the neck of Sophie’s dress and kiss the hollow of her collarbone, kiss my way down her chest, swirl my mouth against her breast through the fabric of her bra.

  Sophie’s hands find the buckle of my jeans and she works the fly open. She seizes my shaft, decisive, possessive. It gets me hard all over again. I nip at her earlobe and rest my forehead against the wall beside her.

  “Careful, sneaky girl,” I warn her, my voice low and gruff. “If you don’t stop teasing me, I’m going to have to fuck you right here against the wall.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” she murmurs.

  I groan again, my cock flexing in her hands. And then I seize her by the ass and hoist her up around my waist.

  Sophie cries out as I back her into the wall. I’m supporting her around me by the backs of her thighs, and she hooks her legs behind her at the small of my back. My jeans slip down to around my knees. I reach beneath her and shove her flimsy panties aside. Forceful. Determined. I won’t let anything stop us now.

  “Fuck me,” she begs.

  I bury myself in her hot, tight pussy, and the force of the hit rattles the wall.

  Sophie’s mouth is so ripe and red as I thrust inside of her. I love the way it rounds, filthy and innocent all at once, as the friction between us drives her wild. I’m on the verge of exploding, so I focus on her face, on the ecstatic little cries she makes, on the thumping of the wall behind her. Pressure is building up in me, and I’m like a pipe about to burst.

  Fortunately, she does it first. Screaming my name. Her voice shredded and spent with lust. Holy fuck, does it turn me on.

  And then I’m lost, too. I slam my body against her and bite at her shoulder as my hips buck wildly against her. Fuck.

  If I fight for nothing else, I have to fight for this. This hot, sexy, clever, maddening woman and her pussy with an iron grip. Her quick mind and her puffy lips and her sly grin. I need Sophie.

  I can’t leave her to the wolves like Tyler Brennan.

  She’s mine.

  I ease out of her, both of us reluctant to do so, and pepper kisses against her cheeks and lips. She smiles wearily into my kisses. “I love you, Jagger.”

  “I love you, too.” I head toward the bathroom and turn on the shower head. “Care to join me?”

  Sophie glances toward the clock in the kitchen. “Oh, shit. No. I have to go. Shit.” She shoves her dress back down over her thighs. “I have to run by the grocery store and get back and clean up and start cooking and—fuck.”

  “Hey. Hey. It’s going to be okay.” I hold her by the shoulders and kiss her forehead. “You’ve made it this far. We’re almost there.”

  “Yeah.” She smiles gently and looks up at me. “We’re going to stop him. I swear to you.”

  “Be safe.”

  She kisses me one last time, and then she’s gone.

  I hope it isn’t for good.

  19

  Sophie

  Tyler is suspicious about the amount of time I’d spent at the grocery store, judging by how long he saw me missing from the hotel on his webcam, but by the time he gets a bowl full of Bolognese in his belly, he’s quickly forgotten about it. “God damn, I’ve missed that.” He leers at me across the dinner table, the shoddy extended stay apartment lighting turning his expression into something garish and shadowy. “I’ve missed you, babe. It’s so fucking good to have you back where you belong.”

  I manage a weak smile and toast his glass of wine. My appetite’s completely gone and everything tastes like ash in my mouth, but I do my best to play the meek girlfriend. I can’t wait to be free of him once more.

  After I clean up dishes, I persuade him to watch some television with me on the couch, and make a show of quickly falling asleep—eyelids sagging, sinking into deep breathing. I really am exhausted, but I’m far too on edge to sleep around him; every nerve ending in my body is on high alert. I didn’t know what I’ll do if he tries to coax me into bed with him. I just want him to leave me alone.

  “Soph? Soph, baby, you awake?” I squeeze my eyes shut and regulate my breathing until finally he stops trying to rouse me and leaves to collapse into bed himself.

  At two a.m., he comes back into the living room. Turns the webcam around the other way, so it’s pointed at the wall. And then vanishes into the night.

  A little after four a.m., he returns, and goes back to bed.

  Where had he gone? Was Cyrus’s contact able to watch him, like Cyrus said he’d try to do? I still can’t fall asleep. By the time sunrise begins to stream in through the narrow blinds, I’m exhausted, my eyes scratchy and dry, but I have work to do. There’s so much more to do.

  Fortunately, today I have a much better excuse that allows me to leave the apartment: the books I requested through inter-library loan have arrived at Ridgecrest Central Library. Tyler drops me off on his way to work, and I make my way nervously through the stacks. I spot Cyrus and another man lurking near the research section, like we agreed, and Cyrus makes brief eye contact with me.

  My heart sinks a little to see Jagger isn’t with them, even though I know it’s safer this way. I want to rush over and hug Cyrus. Feel grounded in the people who take care of me, after the sleepless night I had. But I’m too paranoid, and fortunately, it looks like they are, too.

  I fetch my stack of books from the librarian. “Are there reading rooms?” I ask.

  “Sure thing, hon. Second floor.”

  “Perfect. Thanks so much.” I haul the books up to the second floor and find a reading room out of the way of the main library. No cameras pointed its way, at least that I can tell.

  I slip inside one of the private reading rooms, leaving the door cracked, and wait.

  Ten or so minutes later, Cyrus arrives, followed by his friend. The friend is tall and muscular, though in a leaner way than stocky Cyrus. His dark brown hair is kept trim, and forms a chinstrap beard that frames his face. “Brett,” he says, extending his hand to me. “I’ll do what I can to help, Sophie.”

  “Brett.” I shake hands with him, then sink into the chair. Now that I finally feel safe, I’m utterly wrung out with weariness. “I’m happy to have yours.”

  “You did the right thing, bringing this to us,” Brett says. “Both of you did,” he adds, with a glance toward Cyrus. “I’ve been inside the Alonzo gang for a few months now, and I could tell they were getting information from a crooked fed somewhere. They were avoiding too many raids and cockblocking too many of my efforts to set them up for a fall. I didn’t know who it was, of course, but all I could do was be grateful that my cover hadn’t yet been blown.”

  “Christ. That sounds rough. Two months undercover? That must be terrifying
.” I haven’t been undercover for even a week, and I’m already scared out of my mind.

  “You get used to it,” Brett says with a shrug.

  Cyrus clears his throat. “I’ve been working with Brett for a while, but, uh, it isn’t exactly public knowledge with the rest of the crew.”

  I raise one eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “If the crew were involved in anything more than illegal street racing, which they aren’t, Brett has no business asking me about it. It’s not part of our deal.” Cyrus looks nervous all the same, but he speaks with conviction. “What is part of our deal is anything else I pick up on while we’re at races. Gang activity, deals that might be going down, you know the kind.”

  I blink, surprised. “How long have you two been working together like this?” I ask. I don’t much like the idea of keeping secrets from the rest of Jagger’s crew, but I figure it’s Cyrus’s burden to bear more than mine.

  Cyrus winces and looks down. “A few years.”

  “Cyrus helped provide me with information crucial to dismantling the McManus family’s criminal enterprise,” Brett says. “You might’ve read about it in the papers.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve kind of been living in my own private hell with Agent Brennan for the past few years.”

  “Right. Understandable.” Brett smiles sadly, and it warms me to him somewhat. “Well, I’m prepared to do anything I can to help you break out of that. And if Tyler’s the man supplying the Alonzos with intel like I suspect he is, then he’s going to go away for a very long time.”

  Tyler, locked up. Possibly for the rest of his life. The very thought is so tantalizing, so wonderfully seductive, that I want to weep. How long have I dreamed of this moment? Of Tyler finally getting what he’s due. Then he can never hurt me—or anyone else—ever again.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “I’d like that very much.”

  Brett grins. “I’ll see what I can do. But first, I’m going to need your help for just a little bit longer.”

  “Of course,” I say. “Anything.”

  Cyrus and Brett exchange a look, neither of them seeming particularly pleased about whatever’s coming next. Brett straightens his shoulders. “Well, there are two ways we can do this,” he finally says.

  I feel my stomach turn, but I nod. “I’m ready.”

  “The first way is that I can take this information from the photographs you got and use it to start collecting and correlating information I get from inside the Alonzos.”

  I frown. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I break the code Tyler’s using. I can compare it against their own internal logs and use that to figure out just what he’s concealing. Then maybe over time, I can work with you to keep further tabs on what he adds to the ledger. If you stick with me, we can build up a case of correlation and causation—one that I can send to my superiors, and use to take Tyler down.”

  I sink down into the study chair with a groan. “That sounds like the slow way.”

  “It is,” Brett says. “But also the safest. It allows me to be really, really certain about what we’ve got here and gives me the time I’d need to build an iron-clad case.”

  Cyrus looks at me. “But it means Sophie has to live with that monster for who knows how long.”

  “And it means we’ll probably be too late to help Jagger.” I bite my lower lip.

  Brett nods again. “Most likely, yes. It could be used to exonerate him, but . . .”

  “No.” I shake my head, unable to stop. “No. I can’t wait that long. I can’t do that to him.” And I can’t be around Tyler for a day longer than I absolutely have to. The very thought makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. “What’s the other option, then?”

  Brett looks down at his hands and shifts his posture. “Well . . .” His voice wavers. “It’s going to be a hell of a lot trickier to pull off. And you’ll have to play a much bigger role.”

  I’m trembling. I don’t realize it until Cyrus reaches out a hand to steady me.

  “You can do this,” Cyrus whispers. “I’ve seen the way Jagger looks at you—like you’re the strongest woman in the universe.”

  “I’m really not.”

  Cyrus smiles at me. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That boy adores you. It takes a really special woman indeed to tame Jagger, Sophie. Trust me. I know you’re capable.”

  I smile up at him, grateful. “I’ll give it a try.”

  Brett clears his throat. “If we want this to work . . . we’re going to need to put your acting to the test.”

  I’ve played a role with Tyler for years. The devoted girlfriend, the prisoner, the model citizen. I did everything he asked, bent over backward to convince him I was following his increasingly stringent rules to the letter.

  I can play it one last time.

  “Let’s do it, then.”

  20

  Sophie

  We hashed out the plan in the study room as quickly as we could. It relies a little too heavily on Tyler behaving a certain way, which makes me all kinds of nervous. Brett seems confident it’ll work out the way he claims, and that he’s done it a handful of times before when he’s caught dirty agents for the feds, but I’m not so sure. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s that Tyler’s only predictable feature is his unpredictability. Hell, six-plus years of psychology work and I still haven’t fully cracked that nut.

  But I have no choice. This is the only way to help Jagger.

  Cyrus seemed pleased with the plan. He’s going to relay it to the rest of the crew, and have them on standby just in case something goes awry. I’m pretty sure something will, but I have to give it a shot. For Jagger.

  And for me.

  I wait for about an hour after I get home from the library, while Tyler’s still at work. I’m just going about my day, relaxing on the couch, poring over my books from the library, watching some trashy television.

  Then the knock comes on the hotel room door.

  I do my best to act startled, freezing up in full view of Tyler’s webcam. I take a few hesitant steps toward the door, as if I’m uncertain how to behave. It feels a little too familiar—this sense of uncertainty, like if Tyler hasn’t left an explicit instruction for me, I don’t know how to handle anything.

  “Open up the fucking door, Sophie Gallagher. We know you’re in there.”

  The tremor in my hands starts to feel a little more real. We’re doing this. There’s no going back.

  I pad into the kitchen, still moving cautiously, and my hand hovers over the butcher’s block. I start to slide a knife out of it, still in full view of the camera, then change my mind and let go of the handle.

  “Open up! NOW!”

  I straighten my sweater and crack the door.

  The men on the other side throw their weight against the door, sending me flying backward. Fortunately, the front door opens inward, blocking the webcam’s view of who’s standing there. Brett is sneering at me along with another guy I don’t recognize. An Alonzo. I take in the gang tattoos wreathing his neck and exposed shoulders, then note Brett is dressed similarly to him—all of his easy, calm demeanor gone. He’s turned feral, just like the man next to him. He’s even better at this than I thought.

  “Where the fuck is Tyler?” Brett shouts. “We know he fucking lives here. Don’t you fucking lie, you slut, or I’ll cut you right here.”

  “He’s—he’s at work!” I cry. I keep looking nervously between Brett and the other guy. Can’t give any indication Brett and I have met before. “I’m—I’m sorry, but I don’t know what this is about—”

  “He’s a fucking double-crosser, that's what.” Brett reaches forward and snatches me by the collar of my sweater. I don’t have to fake the fear on my face—it’s all too real, even though I know this is just an act. “Tell me where the fuck he is.”

  Behind Brett, the other guy narrows his eyes at me, and makes a show of licking his lips. I don’t have to pretend to
shudder with disgust.

  “He’s at work, okay? I don’t know when he’ll be home. I—I called the cops,” I add feebly, bluffing hard. “I swear, I don’t know what you want—”

  “The cops? Honey, you think they can save your sweet ass?” Brett laughs. “Go on, you cry to the coppers when they show. But you tell that shithead man of yours we want to see him. He’ll know who we are.”

  Brett releases me. The other guy looks disappointed. I’m trembling all over now. And in an instant, they’re gone.

  I close the door and press my back against it, shaking with a sob for the camera’s benefit. Suddenly, I’m not so sure about this. It seems so flimsy, like we’re taking such a huge chance, all on my hunch. I suck down air. Now comes the hardest part—I have to pull off lying to Tyler.

  On unsteady feet, I make my way into the kitchenette and pick up the phone.

  It takes me three tries to dial the number right, I’m so nervous. When I finally get it right, it rings and rings. I’m about to hang up, but finally, the connection goes through.

  “Agent Brennan.”

  “Tyler, help.” My voice is wavering all over the place. I’m only pretending a little bit, though the reason I’m scared has far more to do with Tyler than with the men at the door. “I’m scared. These guys came by the hotel room looking for you, and they—”

  “Wait, hold on. Calm down, baby. I can’t make out what you’re saying.”

  I suck down air, trying to calm my trembling—though not too much. “They threatened me! They wanted to see you, called you a double—”

  “Sorry, baby, you’re breaking up real bad. I’ll have to call you back.” Tyler cuts me off forcefully. Then hangs up the phone.

  I permit myself the faintest smile. Just like Brett said he’d do. If he really is crooked, he’ll want to switch to a secure phone, not his work one. Can’t leave a trail for the feds to pick up.