Deadlands Heat (Doomsday Lover Book 1)

by Cole, Sienna

  Doomsday Lover

  Deadlands Heat

  Sienna Cole

  DEADLANDS HEAT

  Copyright 2015 by Sienna Cole

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Published by Good Bad Girls Books

  Follow us on Twitter @GBG_Books

  Cover model: “The Beer Angel” photographed by Marcus Ranum / mjranum-stock on Deviant Art

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Thank you for downloading an authorized copy of this eBook and respecting the hard work of this author. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: Warm Bodies

  Chapter Two: Package

  Chapter Three: Gangbangers

  Chapter Four: Dine & Dash

  Chapter Five: Oasis Town

  Chapter Six: The Pink Room

  Chapter Seven: Desert Rose

  Chapter Eight: Trouble in Paradise

  Chapter Nine: Signed, Sealed & Delivered

  Chapter Ten: Into the Sunset

  Message from the Author

  Featured Sneak Peek

  Chapter One

  Warm Bodies

  IT WAS EASY to pity someone once they were dead. It didn’t matter who you were in life, death turned you into a hunk of meat. These were the same men who’d murdered Danny Carver, a friend and fellow courier, and left him on the side of the road like garbage. But seeing them like this—sprawled in the dirt, surrounded by buzzing flies—it was hard to appreciate the poetic justice.

  The sun blazed in the distance, hanging low on the dusty, orange horizon. The air simmered with heat and grit. The breeze, when there was one, carried the scent of baking sand, wilted vegetation and death. I pushed the clinging blonde wisps out of my eyes and walked a slow circuit around the bloody scene. There were three bodies in the middle of the long dirt road. By the looks of it, the ambush had happened quickly, too quickly for them to take cover or return fire. The package they’d stolen was surely long gone, but I’d have to search them, just in case.

  I took a deep breath and squatted down beside the closest one—a thick, middle-aged man with a leather patch over one eye. The top of his skull had been blown off. His mouth hung open in perpetual surprise. Poor, greedy bastard.

  As suspected, he’d been picked clean. It was the same with all the others.

  “Motherfucker.” I stood, and kicked up a rusty cloud that billowed in the turgid air. The tracks in the road headed off towards the next town. I got back on my bike and said a silent prayer that it would get me that far. The engine coughed twice before finally spluttering to life. One good thing about heading out this way was that I’d finally get to settle up with Al about the piece-of-shit he’d sold me. Sonofabitch owed me a new ride.

  AN HOUR LATER, I chugged to a stop under a weathered sign that read Axel’s Tavern. The two-story bar and brothel slouched at the edge of a small, rutted town square. The other ‘official’ buildings were laid out in a semi-circle. There were only four of them; a general store, a post office, a small bank and a jail. There was a tiny whitewashed schoolhouse down the road that sometimes doubled as a clinic. Tumble-down shacks sprang up like weeds in the middle of wilted fields and spindly orchards. They seemed to sag into the dirt, waiting to be consumed by the ravenous red earth.

  The tavern was the only place that showed any signs of life. Light and sound poured from its wide, square windows; raucous laughter and raised voices, competing with the belligerent strains of a country ballad. I parked out front, between a beat up Chevy and a line of hogs, and pushed my way inside. The air hit me like an unwashed blanket; cloying and close, heavy with the heat of the day—thick with smoke and the pong of sweat-stained bodies.

  There were several girls around the room, each clinging like a vine to her mark. As I walked across the room, someone grabbed my ass and gave it a rough squeeze. “Hey there, Sweet-Cheeks. Wanna buck?”

  I turned, forcing him to drop his hand. He was red faced, red eyed and tottering drunk. “No.” I said. “I don’t.”

  “Cum’on, Sugar.” He reached for me again. “Don’t be a bitch.”

  The second his hand made contact with my body, I gave the wrist a sharp twist—he hissed as I turned him around and pulled his arm up behind his back.

  I spoke into his ear. “I said no.”

  “Fine! Okay.” I let him go. He glared at me, muttered, “Fucking cock tease,” and then stumbled off into the crowd.

  I got some raised eyebrows and a few cat calls, but no one else tried to touch me as I made my way to the bar.

  The man behind the counter gave me a casual once-over. “If you’re lookin’ for a room, we’re full up. Though, I bet you could find someone willing to share.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He nodded. “What’ll it be?”

  “Cheap and wet.”

  He snorted. “You lookin’ for a drink or a girl?”

  I chuckled with him and leaned on the bar, letting him enjoy his little joke along with a generous view of my cleavage. People often equate a flash of skin with friendliness—even trustworthiness. Go figure. “A drink,” I said. “I like my sex like I like my men—without pussies.”

  He laughed, loud and rasping, and then poured two fingers of whisky into a dingy glass, waiting until I’d tapped the pay icon on his bar before sliding my drink over.

  I took a slow swallow. The burn slid down my throat and curled in my gut like a live coal. “Not bad.”

  “I make it myself.” He held out his hand. “Name’s Axel.”

  We shook. “Jenna.”

  “I know every face round here—don’t recall seein’ yours.”

  “I don’t get out this way much. And when I do, I keep a low profile.”

  “Smart.”

  I took another sip. “Speaking of faces… You know anything about those guys who got shot up today?”

  “I know they’re buzzard food now. Undertaker won’t touch ‘em neither. Says Deadlanders come for their own.”

  “Any idea who got ‘em?”

  Axel’s bushy, salt and pepper brows drew together above narrowed eyes. “If you’ve got a score to settle—”

  I tapped up the bar’s pay-menu and transferred him a generous tip. “Call me…an interested party.”

  He stared at me for a moment and then nodded to the end of the bar where a guy in blue jeans and a tight, white tee-shirt stood chatting up one of the pretty barmaids. “He and his crew come in crowin’ about it.” He gestured to four big goons at a table in the back. “I gave ‘em all rooms for the night. Said they’d be gone by mornin’.”

  “Thanks.” I downed the rest of my drink and plunked the glass on the bar.

  “Don’t mention it. And don’t do anything I’ll regret.”

  I made a non-committal noise. The man Axel had pointed out looked familiar—long and lean, with blue-grey eyes and messy, dirty-blonde hair. He had a dimple in one cheek that appeared each time he flashed a smile at the simpering brunette who’d captured his arm.

  He looked up and our eyes met. The force of his attention was like a hand brushing over my belly. It sent an unexpected thrill through me, making my nipples
tighten in response and my heart rate spike. Wow. Okay, so that was something. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be all work and no play after all. If he was my guy, I might be able to score two packages in one shot. I grinned to myself, took deep breath and strolled towards them.

  The barmaid glared daggers at me. He flashed that dimple.

  He was tall enough that I had to tilt my head to look him in the eye. “This is going to sound incredibly cheesy, but do I know you?”

  He gave me a charming lopsided grin. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

  “It is a pretty bad line.” I admitted with mock-ruefulness.

  “The worst,” he agreed, shaking his head. “Not even I use it anymore and I’m incorrigible.”

  “How about I make up for it by buying you a drink?”

  His grin broadened. “I’d rather buy you one.”

  The girl, who’d been simmering impatiently up to this point, elbowed him in the ribs. “Max!”

  “If you insist,” I said, ignoring her. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  “Hello? I am standing right here.” The barmaid glared between us. She looked like someone had shoved a stick of dynamite up her ass and lit the fuse.

  Oh, right. That was me.

  Max looked down at her as though she’d just appeared beside him. “Oh, that’s right.” He gave her a grin. “Trish, honey, be a dear and fetch us a couple whiskey’s.”

  Trish’s mouth dropped open. She shut it with an audible click and stomped off, practically steaming from the ears.

  I couldn’t help laughing. “I can’t believe you did that. If she does bring anything back, it’ll have enough of her DNA in it to make a clone.”

  “You’re probably right. We might have to fend for ourselves.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Hey!” He snapped his fingers, as if just remembering. “I’ve got bottle of hooch upstairs. Good stuff too. I’d be happy to share, if you’re interested.”

  I fought down the urge to grin. I didn’t want to seem overeager. “I don’t know…”

  “Come on.” He nudged my shoulder with his. “I have jerky.”

  I squinted at him. “Cat jerky?”

  “Cow jerky.”

  “You have my attention.” I smiled and threaded my arm though his. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Two

  Package

  MAX’S ROOM SAT at the end of a narrow, crooked hallway. He opened the door on the small, dim space and gestured for me to precede him into the gloom. One whiff of the nose-twitching, dusty air and I had to stifle the urge to sneeze. The bed sat like a lump in the center of a dingy, threadbare carpet, half covered by rumpled sheets and the dubious comfort of a thin brown blanket. Yellowed floral paper hung from the walls in peeling strips. I flicked a paint-scab off the top of the dresser making a track in its thick pelt of dust. “Nice…”

  “Isn’t it though?” He crossed to the bedside table and lit a rust-flaked oil lamp, bathing the room in a flickering yellow glow, and then he reached under the bed and pulled out a black duffle bag. As he fished around, I saw the distinctive flash of silver. That settled it then; he had the package.

  “Here we go.” He triumphantly brandished a liquor bottle; blow-fly green and missing the label. “No glasses though, so you’ll have to share my cooties.” He waggled his brows and took a slug before handing it to me.

  “I think I’ll live.” I tipped it back and took a healthy swallow. It tasted like paint thinner and went down like a tumbleweed. “Smooth,” I rasped. His warm fingers brushed mine as I handed it back. He winked, took a gulp, and offered me another pull. I held my hand up. “I’m gonna pace myself.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Girl.”

  “Guilty as charged.” I sat on the edge of the bed and sank backwards into the sagging mattress. I had to kick my feet to get upright again. “Boy, this thing really sucks you in.” I laughed. “I bet that’s what they say about Trish.”

  “Forget Trish.” He set the bottle on the end table and moved towards me. His grey eyes had gone all sexy-serious. “I’d rather talk about you.”

  I watched him saunter my way and I didn’t want to talk about anyone—I just wanted to get his cloths off.

  He sat beside me and I slid into him, pulled in by the gravity well he’d created with his ass. His chest felt warm and solid under my hand as I steadied myself against him.

  Max looked down at me from only inches away. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I swallowed. “Do you really want to talk?” It sounded breathy, even to me.

  He shook his head. “Not really.”

  “Good,” I said, leaning up.

  He bent down to meet me. “Good.”

  The first brush of his whiskey flavored lips was soft; a gentle exploration. My fingers curled into his cotton shirt. He cupped the back of my head, changing the angle and deepening the kiss. Our tongues met and tangled. His other hand slipped up under my tank top, shaping and caressing my breast, teasing the nipple to a hard point between his long, nimble fingers. I moaned against his mouth, arching into the caress. My hands found their way into his thick hair.

  He broke away, trailing hot kisses along my jaw and down the side of my neck, using both hands now to stroke and tease my aching breasts. I grabbed the hem of my tank top and pulled it over my head. His mouth dipped lower, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn. I tugged at his shirt and he paused to whip it off over his head before resuming his delicious torment.

  My hands smoothed up the heated plane of his abdomen and up his chest, then over his shoulders and down his back; reveling in the feel of him—the caress of all that smooth warm skin against my own. My questing fingers found the bulge in his jeans and his hips jerked. He groaned against my throat, teeth scraping lightly as he pulled back to look at me. He eased me down onto the bed and bent to tug off my boots. I giggled, riding the rush of giddiness from alcohol and arousal. Then he leaned down, unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them off in one smooth motion, underwear and all. I stopped giggling.

  Max’s heated glance took me in from head to toe and back again. I watched, captivated, as he slowly unbuckled his belt. He held eye contact, undoing his jeans and sliding them off in a mesmerizing way that left my mouth dry. He finished shucking his pants and stood there for me to admire, wearing nothing but that dimpled grin.

  I licked my lips and reached for him, but instead of climbing up to join me, he sank to the carpet at the foot of the bed and pulled me forward so that he was kneeling between my legs. He laid a soft kiss against the inside of one knee and then the other, alternating sides as he trailed kisses slowly higher—maintaining eye contact until he reached the apex of my thighs. He waggled his brows again and then the humor vanished and he was pressing his hot mouth against me. His tongue teased along my slit while his hands massaged my inner thighs. As his tongue got bolder, his fingers followed. He slipped one, then two inside me. His mouth settled over my clit, the sensuous caress of lips and tongue moving and undulating to the slow, steady rhythm of his fingers.

  Sweet, heavy tension built inside me, pooling like flood of molten pleasure under my skin, making my intimate muscles flex and quiver. I clutched at the rough blankets. “Oh, Max.”

  I felt him smile against my tender flesh. “Say my name again,” he said, fingers rubbing in a slow, tantalizing circle.

  I tossed my head from side to side. “Max. Oh god, Max!”

  He held me down as I bucked, straining against the mattress as the orgasm took me—the flood of sensation spilling through my limbs like hot, tingling champagne.

  I felt the bed dip as he climbed up beside me, but I didn’t open my eyes. My body was heavy, languid with pleasure and cheap liquor. His lips found mine again and I tasted myself, tangled up with the whisky on his breath. His erection pressed into my thigh, a pointed reminder that he was still ready to go. I pulled him down on top of me, lifting my hips in invitation, nudging him closer to my wet, throbbing heat.

  Max positio
ned himself over me and slid forward, groaning against the curve of my neck as he pushed his way inside. I moaned and grabbed his shoulders, arching my back, digging my heels into the mattress. He was big. Even with the foreplay, he had to move slowly at first. I watched his muscles flex and move as he pushed in and out, gradually increasing his tempo until that slow, sweet pressure started building again. I wrapped my legs around him, meeting him thrust-for-thrust. I tried not to claw his back as I clung to him—hips jerking, body spasming—screaming as the second orgasm crashed over me. He pushed deep, pinning me to the mattress, tensing as he found his own release and then he collapsed on top of me.

  We lay like that, in a tangled, sweaty heap, for several minutes, just listening to the sound of our heavy breathing.

  Max broke the silence. “Wow.”

  “Yes.” I snorted. “Wow is apt.”

  He rolled off, onto his back, and put his hands behind his head, grinning like an idiot. “I’m rather proud of that.”

  “Since I’m not sure I can move yet, you should be.”

  He winked. “I’ll give you a break then, before round two.”

  “I don’t know if I’d survive a round two.”

  “But what a way to go.” He grabbed the bottle off the nightstand and took a swig before offering it to me.

  I sat up, took a small sip and handed it back. “That’s it for me. What do you make that stuff with, turpentine?”

  He laughed. “It’ll put hair on your chest!” He glanced at my breasts and flashed his dimple. “On second thought, I’m cutting you off. I prefer to be the furry one.” He leaned down and nuzzled between my breasts, chafing the sensitized flesh with his stubble.

  I laughed and squirmed away, covering up with the coarse blanket for a moment before throwing it off. “How can you sleep with that thing? It feels like used steel wool.”

  “You have to insulate it with sheets. Here…” He took one of the white sheets and fluffed it out over me, then layered the blanket on top, folding the edge down under my chin. “See? Nothing to it.”