“Nobody puts hands on me without permission,” she breathed angrily as she waited for Shank to answer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Shift, shift, shift, Riley!” Katie screamed, jumping up and down on the couch next to Riley, nearly causing her to drive into the ditch. “He’s going to beat you if you don’t get out of there!”
“Do you want to drive?” Riley growled, grabbing Katie by the ankle and yanking her down on the couch. Katie went flying and landed on her butt in a flurry of hot pink painted toenails, fingernails and mini skirt. All male eyes in the vicinity were on the blond to see if they could catch a glimpse of panty as she fell.
“Oomph!” The breath whooshed out of her as she landed. “Bitch!”
Riley looped an arm around Katie’s neck and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek as she continued racing her virtual McLaren against Roadkill’s Lamborghini in Need for Speed. An eruption of sound went up around them as Riley beat him out. He won the first two races so she wasn’t exactly on a winning streak. Still, she was pretty pleased with herself. She shouted and laughed, pointing at him as he took the ribbing with good humour.
He pointed back at her. “This isn’t over, Reaper. Next time I’ll toss you off the cliff myself.”
“You’d have to catch me first, Aussie!” she shouted after him as he grabbed his girlfriend and headed across the bar to get another drink. He gave her the finger over his shoulder.
Katie laughed and picked up her cosmopolitan. “As much as I love watching you kick Roadkill’s ass, I’d rather play a shooter next. I suck at these ones.”
“You’re on, Kit Kat. Let’s go find one,” Riley agreed, hopping off the couch and holding out a hand for her friend.
She needed a quieter space anyway so she could talk to Katie. They hadn’t had two seconds to themselves since they’d arrived at the bar. They found a quiet corner with one of Katie’s favourite games, Star Wars Battlefront, ready and available for play. Plunking down next to each other, they picked up the Playstation controllers and entered their information. They played for a few minutes before Riley broached the subject she needed to discuss.
“I need to ask you something and I don't think you’re going to like it, so promise not to get mad at me, okay? We don’t get enough bestie time when you come in for the odd weekend for you to be pissed at me.”
Katie gave her a quick frown and then returned her focus to the game. “I’m not going to get mad at you. Trust me, after the years of shit you've pulled, I'm pretty immune to your surprising me. I mean, I kind of want to slap you silly every time you enter one of those stupid races, but I haven’t yet, have I?”
Riley gave her a crooked smile. “Good point.”
“So, what’s up, Grim Reaper?” Katie only called her that when Riley got serious, which wasn't very often. They usually reserved Katie’s weekends home for good times.
Riley sighed and glanced at Katie’s lovely, blond profile. It always amazed her that the sophisticated, poised woman came out of the same hood as the rest of them. She was so much better and had risen so much higher. Yet she kept coming back to them and diving into their crap with a grin. She was priceless. Which is why Riley would do anything to protect the sweet, delicate beauty.
“Do you know Roman Valdez? And I don’t mean as just a friend of Dexter’s, but as something else. Something more?” Riley asked quietly.
Katie stiffened on the seat next to her. Slowly her thumb went to the pause button on her controller and her head turned toward Riley. Her sky-blue eyes held utter and complete shock. “Wh-why do you ask?” She shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. “I mean, when did you see him? You did see him right… that’s why you're asking me this?”
Riley nodded and glanced away from the intense longing in Katie’s face. Fuck. There was definitely something going on between Roman and Katie. And apparently it went both ways. This was so not good.
“I saw him last night. He works for Soloman Hart.”
Katie gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. Her eyes went even wider. She whispered, “I wondered what happened to him… after D-Dexter.”
The aching in her voice was impossible to miss. It was like something had been wrenched away from her and was now just within reach. Riley reached out and took Katie's hand in hers. “Katie, these are dangerous men. They don’t fuck around. It’s bad enough that I somehow got mixed up in whatever this is that I’m mixed up in. I’m trying to get out. I need you to listen to me, okay?”
“Oh my god,” Katie gasped, appalled. “What kind of trouble are you in? What are we going to do?”
Riley loved that her friend was talking like they could both solve the problem of Soloman Hart. She reached out and hugged her best friend. She missed having her in the same city. They had grown up just a few blocks from each other. Riley was two years older, but they had been fast friends since Riley was fourteen and Katie was twelve, when Riley had beat the shit out of two school bullies that had flipped Katie’s skirt up on the playground.
“I need you to please, please stay out of things,” Riley begged. “I want you to take another business contract and leave town for a while. As much as I love seeing you, I need you to be scarce right now until I can sort this thing out.”
She looked into Katie’s face to make sure she understood and agreed. Katie nodded. “I don't like the idea of leaving you alone to deal with someone like him. Jesus, Riley, this is Soloman Hart we’re talking about. The Soloman Hart! Your dad would lose his mind if he knew you got mixed up with that guy. He’s so dangerous. People that mess with him disappear.”
Riley swallowed and nodded. “I know. That’s why I can’t have you around right now. He doesn’t play nice. He’ll go after the people I’m closest to. This Roman guy is his right hand and… and there’s something between you two.”
“There’s nothing!” Katie protested. “Not really, and not for years. I shouldn’t leave you just based on something small like that. He had a thing for me, but we never acted on it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Riley continued. “He wants you. He made it clear that he planned on going after you, regardless of how you or I feel on the matter. And Katie, this guy doesn’t mess around. If you think Soloman Hart’s reputation is ruthless, Roman is just as bad. He’s a legend on the streets these days. You need to leave town and do it now. Just pack up and go once we’re done here.”
Katie shivered under Riley’s hands. She nodded and said, “Yeah, I’ll go if it means that much to you. I already know I can’t handle Roman. It’s why I never tried. I have another job lined up for Paris anyway. I can leave tomorrow morning. But first, let’s play. I need at least a few hours of bestie time to tide me over.”
Riley arched a brow and grinned. Reaching for her controller, she said, “Paris? Ooh la la. Fancy little darling, aren't we? Bring me back something good.”
Katie laughed and hit the play button on her controller. “I always do.”
Several hours later, Riley was one of the last to leave the gaming bar. She was a night owl and loved gaming. It was rare that she got to hang out with her friends though, so when a chance like this came up, she liked to make the most of it. She waved at Lula and Roadkill as they got into a cab. Riley slid in behind the wheel of her Spitfire, having only drunk orange juice all night. She turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened.
“Impossible,” she grumbled with a frown. She kept all of her vehicles in excellent condition, but especially this one since it had belonged to her dad and it was the first car he ever gave her. There was no chance the engine wouldn’t fire. She turned the key again. And again, nothing happened.
She pulled the hood release with a sigh and climbed out of the car. She was forced to use the flashlight on her phone since she hadn’t parked close enough to a streetlight to be able to properly see what was going on under her hood. Frowning, she checked the battery connections, starter and distributor. But where the hell was the starter coil?
&
nbsp; “What the fuck…?” she mumbled just as an arm snaked out around her waist, lifting her off the ground.
She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand slammed over her mouth, cutting off the sound. She felt herself being bent over her car and dry humped from behind. She screamed into the hand smashed against her lips and wriggled wildly.
Terror thrummed through her veins. She kicked out at the man holding her, but her Sketchers did next to nothing against the strong hold. Finally, the guy quit humping her after one last thrust, lifted her away from the car and dropped her. Riley spun around and drew her fist back in a punch when she saw who had been holding her.
“Shank!” she gasped, her face screwed up in disgust.
He grinned down at her, his crooked teeth gleaming in the dim streetlights. He was wearing baggy ripped blue jeans and a grey T-shirt that moulded to his hard, lean muscles. His head was shaved and tattoos showed on every visible part of his body, including a grinning skull plastered across his face. Most of his tats were emblazoned with gang images. He reached out to grab her again and she threw up a hand to push him away.
This was exactly why she hesitated to call on Shank. He was crazy as fuck. Everything he did was extreme, including sabotaging her car so he could sneak up on her and scare her. Then he would touch her at every opportunity. She was so going home to burn her clothes and shower after this. Which was really too bad because she was wearing her favourite pair of flower-embroidered skinny jeans.
“What the fuck did you do to my poor baby, you sick bastard?” she demanded angrily, shoving him back and stepping out of his reach.
“Oh shit, Reaper baby,” he groaned when her fingers bit into the muscles of his chest. He stepped up to her car, bent over and reached into the engine. “I love it when you play rough with me. Gives me memories for the cold nights, you know?”
“You make me sick,” she snarled.
“Yeah, keep talking, pretty little angel. You know I like it like that. Just gonna picture those lips wrapped around my…”
“Keep it up motherfucker and I’ll cut it off.”
He grinned at her, his eyes roving over her curves. She shivered and wondered if calling on Shank was just plain stupid. How did she imagine she could control this man? He was as psychotic as they came. The only reason he was still alive is he was just too mean to die. In fact, she was pretty certain he had that phrase tattooed somewhere on his body.
He dropped her hood and patted the roadster affectionately. “Good as new, angel. Now tell me what made the Reaper come calling on her favourite bro?”
Riley sighed heavily and rubbed a hand across her forehead. The damage was already done. She’d called on Shank and brought his focus back on her. For better or worse she was back in his spotlight until gang life called him back. She may as well make use of his crazy ass self.
“I’m having a problem with a guy,” she mumbled.
“Yeah?” he said hopefully, cracking his knuckles. “Just point me in his direction and I’ll take care of it, sweetheart. He won’t be a problem for much longer. You and me? We meant to be, darling. I always knew you'd come around eventually.”
He grabbed her around the waist and tried to bend her backward over the car. Riley punched him in the shoulder and wiggled out from under him. “Not a chance, Shank!”
He looked like he was going to reach for her again. She held a hand up. “No touching, dude!” she snarled. “I am not now, nor have I ever been, interested. Fuck, man. How can I be any clearer? I called you because you have a certain reputation for low down psycho shit and surviving things other people don’t usually.”
He dropped his hands and looked thoughtful. “Yeah, those are valid points. Though it does hurt my feelings a little that you aren’t willing to consider me for more. I’d make a great husband. We both agree, I’m very durable.”
Riley put her face in her hands and started laughing at the absurd thought of marriage to this man. She snapped out of it when she felt his fingers curve around her shoulders. She jumped back and threw his arms off her. “I said no touching!”
“Okay, okay!” He backed up a few steps. “So, who’s the guy?”
She chewed on her lip for a few seconds and then said, “Soloman Hart.”
His jaw dropped as shock registered on his pock-marked, tattooed face. A bark of laughter left his lips. “How the fuck did you get mixed up with that guy? Jesus fuck, Reaper. You want me to kill Soloman Hart? I know I’m into some insane stuff, but that's some next level shit.”
“I don't want you to kill him. Well… not really. Too dangerous, for both of us,” she said, glancing around the empty parking lot as though expecting Soloman’s sinister frame to be standing in the shadows watching over her.
Oddly, she was more afraid of him finding her alone with another man than finding her plotting his downfall. Soloman could take care of himself. She was starting to think she was the one that couldn’t take care of herself and she just hadn't known it until he came along and started breaking into her life.
“Just mess with him a little, take his attention away from me until I can think of a way to get out from under his thumb.”
“Baby, it’s gonna take a bomb to divert attention away from you,” Shank said, laughing. “Because you da bomb. Get it?”
She rolled her eyes and walked around to the driver’s side of her car. “I don’t care what you do. Fuck with his business interests or whatever. Just be careful. Dude is one dangerous motherfucker.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “You worried about me, angel?”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but smiled. “Just don’t get caught.”
He nodded, his eyes dropping to her chest. “You gonna owe me for this one.”
She shivered and crossed her arms. She would never in a million years give Shank what he really wanted from her. Not ever happening. “Don’t worry, I can pay you.”
He nodded and stalked toward his own car, a ’69 Dodge Charger. How she missed that beauty in the shadows she did not know. His car was what had originally drawn them together. She’d boosted it when she was twenty-three. He’d hunted it down at her shop before she got a chance to flip it. In return for her life, she’d had to boost three more cars and give him the profits. She’d gotten to know the weird psycho and his crew in the process. He fell a little in love with her, but she was able to keep him at arm’s length. Thank goodness he lived in a different county. He was one scary son-of-a-bitch when he wanted to be.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Riley rubbed at the headache building in her temples. She shoved her office chair away from her desk, rolled toward the door and smacked the light switch, turning off the bright overhead lights. She closed the door while she was at it, muffling the shop noises. She sighed in satisfaction. That felt so much better. Closing her eyes, she sat in the darkened office and just enjoyed the feel of the fan blowing across her bare arms and shoulders for a few minutes. The accounts weren’t going anywhere.
Neither was the gift-wrapped box shoved to the edge of her desk. She was pretty sure it was the prospect of the box that was giving her a headache. The beautiful, tastefully wrapped silver box with a white bow had been distracting her from the moment it arrived in the garage. She’d quickly signed for it and whisked it away from the curious eyes of her mechanics. A quick peak at the hand-written card had confirmed her suspicion.
Riley,
Wear this tonight.
Yours,
S
She hadn’t opened the box. It was too small to be clothing unless it was intimate apparel, in which case she was going to drive to his estate home on the edge of the city and burn it to the ground. Which would be extremely dangerous. Or it was jewelry, which wasn’t something she wanted from him. Which is why she’d had the box for three hours without opening it. And managed to complete exactly two out of the fifteen invoices she needed to finish.
She groaned when her iPhone began playing House of The Rising Sun, the Sons of Ana
rchy version. She opened her eyes and reached for it. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the number. She hadn’t been brave enough to put his contact information into her phone, but she’d memorized the number. She’d been secretly hoping he would just never call her back. She let it go to voicemail. Seconds later it began ringing again. She cursed the man for ruining her favourite song.
Helplessly, she swiped her black painted fingernail across the screen and lifted the phone to her ear. “Soloman,” she acknowledged.
“Hello, Riley,” he said, his deep voice caressing her name with satisfaction.
“What do you want?” she asked coldly.
“Why haven’t you opened my gift yet?” he asked, a chiding edge to his voice.
She sat up straight, her elbow hitting the edge of the desk with a thump. She sucked air in through her teeth and rubbed her elbow while looking around in consternation. What the fuck? How did he know she hadn’t opened his gift? Did he have eyes on her or something, or did he think he just knew her that well? Either option wasn’t particularly acceptable. She glanced up at the camera she kept in her office in case of break-ins.
“I’m not interested in your gifts,” she said coldly. “You can take it back.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then he spoke, more forceful this time, less indulgent. “Open it, Riley. Do it right now.”
The breath caught in her throat. She knew he wasn't in the shop, she would have seen him. Yet her body went cold as though he were right there, commanding her to obey. She had the urge to reach for the box. She clenched her fist against her thigh, curling her hand against the faded, oil-stained denim. She shook her head, her ponytail swaying against her back.
“No.”
“You do not want to play right now, Riley. I am reaching the end of my patience with your resistance. Remember my words. I will drive down to your little shop right now, shut it down and bring you home, where you can serve me on your knees. Is that what you want, little girl?” His words were rough, but they wrapped around her like smooth silk bonds.
Driven by Desire Page 5
