by Margaret Kay
His fingers felt over the indentation of her ring finger of her left hand. That wedding band had been on for some time based on the divot he felt. He wondered about her husband. Was she still married? Was he alive? And what was she messed up in? Again, he wondered what she looked like without the goth getup. Holding her tightly to himself, he drifted off at some point.
She came awake with a start, sitting straight up, gasping a choked scream. She was disoriented in the dark room, but Razor’s voice brought her back to her reality. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”
She felt his leg against hers. His arms wrapped around her as he too sat up. Flesh on flesh, she remembered the sexual encounter they shared. She knew it couldn’t be called making love. It had been just pure sex, something she had never done, intimacy without emotions. Hell, she didn’t even like him, let alone have any warm feelings for him. But the sex had been good, really good. She’d give him that.
“Yes,” she said as she let him pull her back to the mattress. She hoped she hadn’t said anything aloud.
His arms held her. She wrapped her arm around his torso and laid her head on his strong, warm chest. It did feel good to be held. It almost made the nightmare bearable, almost. Unfortunately, the blood on the kitchen floor had been all too real, and the rest of it, yes, it all had really happened. It was a nightmare all right, but it was also real.
The lifeless expression on Greg’s face haunted every dream. The gunshots echoed in her brain. The sound of the slugs hitting the dumpster so close beside her was etched in her memories and caused terror like she’d never known, turning her blood to ice water in her veins, an expression she now understood, had felt. That was her reality. This was but a brief respite. She was alone facing this. Razor was not a long-term solution, not a protector she could count on. She only hoped Benjamin would be, if she could find him.
Razor held her. She trembled against him. He couldn’t ask. That would be out of this Razor’s character. He rolled her over and came on top of her. He knew of one sure-fire thing to do to help her get her mind off the nightmare that had caused her to sit up and scream from a dead sleep. He sensed it was more a memory than a dream. He kissed her like there was no tomorrow and then made love to her one more, slow, deliberate time.
The room was still darkened when the outer door opened, and light tumbled into the room. Razor woke instantly as he never slept soundly, even here. The silhouette of a stocky figure approached the bed. Razor’s gun was in his hand.
“It’s nearly seven. Breakfast is out,” the familiar voice of the bartender said.
“Thanks,” Razor forced from his dry mouth.
After the door was closed, Razor switched on the dim bedside light. Sienna’s eyes were open. He guessed she didn’t sleep too soundly either. She clutched the sheet to her bare chest.
“And that’s the other reason you had to be naked in my bed. None of those guys would buy we were in here with our clothes on for even a second. Expected behavior.”
Her head nodded faintly. The morning-after regret had already set in. How could she have slept with him? It didn’t matter how good it was. It was wrong. She cringed inside, knowing she had given another piece of herself away.
She watched him pull himself from the bed. Her eyes remained focused on his tight, bare butt until it disappeared behind the closed bathroom door. She sat up and buried her head in her hands, fighting to keep the tears back.
She only released her face when she heard the flush and the sound of the door reopen. She watched him strut back to the bed, with no shyness. He climbed onto the bed, straddling her, and took hold of her head with both hands. He held her as he kissed her deeply, like he had the night before. Her surprised gaze met his when he pulled away.
That smirk curved his lips. “Good morning, sweetheart. Take ten minutes to get cleaned up. Be sure that makeup is caked on good and heavy to mask your identity, and then meet me by the bar for some eats. We pull out in thirty minutes.”
He climbed off of her, off the bed, and she watched him pull his same clothes back on, including the same underwear. Gross. Glancing around the room, she caught sight of her backpack, sitting on a table nearby.
“Remember rules number one and two. You absolutely must follow them. Our lives could depend on it today. You’ve already got rule number three down fucking spectacularly,” he added. “I’m looking forward to a repeat performance tonight.” He paused and winked.
She was trembling from his words when he turned and left, closing the door behind himself. Holy fuck, what had she gotten herself into? Last night’s sex was more intense than anything she had ever been a part of. She’d never thought herself as naïve, but evidently, she was, not realizing what she’d be getting herself into by contracting a man like him to transport her.
She did exactly as he said in the timeframe he had dictated. Her eyes met his as she carried her jacket and backpack out of the bedroom. The bar area was packed with those who’d been there the night before, the smell was the stale smoke and beer mixing with the breakfast regulars that were lined up on the bar. The smell turned her stomach. But there was also the smell of coffee, the amazing aroma of strong coffee.
The others were finishing up eating. Before she even served herself a plate, half of those in the room cleared out. She savored the hot, strong coffee. Those two shots and the three beers were causing her head to be fuzzy. When her eyes met his, his gaze was intense.
He handed a water bottle across to her. “You’ll probably want this to hydrate.” His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “I’ll take it easy on the curves until you let me know when the hangover dulls. I know you’re not used to drinking like that.”
She felt naked before him. How did he know that? And did he know how much she regretted her actions the night before too? She tried to force a smile, but it fell flat. She nodded. She nibbled her toast and ate her potatoes. Nothing else on her plate seemed like a good idea.
He waited for her there as she went back within the bedroom and used the bathroom, one last time. He was the only one left within the room when she returned. He caught her around her waist as she approached. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“You got sunglasses?”
“Yes,” she replied, surprised by his gentle manner this morning.
“You got ID on you?”
She nodded her head yes. “A fake, but I don’t know how good it is.”
He held his hand out in front of her. She retrieved it from her backpack along with her sunglasses.
“Yeah, it’s not very good. I hope you didn’t pay too much for it.” The bartender entered the room from the main entrance they’d come through the night before. Razor handed the ID to him. “Destroy this.”
The man nodded. “They’re waiting.” His head jerked towards the door.
Razor grabbed her hand and led her out.
The sun was bright, even behind dark sunglasses. Most of the bikes were running, the roar of the thirty-some bikes was deafening. She put her coat back on and then slid her backpack onto the hook on the back of the bike at Razor’s prompting. She pulled her leg over the seat of the bike. Yeah, she was sore. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his back.
They avoided law enforcement for the most part, the entire day. They saw a few police cars here or there, but none did anything more than follow their group to the various county lines they crossed. They stopped at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere at midday and ate lunch from the sandwich shop within, by their bikes. Later that afternoon, they pulled off the long, straight, vacant road they’d been on, traveling across two states in that one day. They passed by two county sheriff cars as they entered the little town where they would stay that night.
They had an arrangement with a motel on the outskirts of town. They all ate in the bar beside the twenty-room motel, all its rooms booked by their group. Then, Razor led her to their room. He’d watched her carefully all day. He was even more convinced she was a
n innocent woman caught up in some heavy shit she wasn’t used to and wasn’t prepared to deal with. He knew the signs well. She was barely holding on. He sure wished Madison would get back to him with her identity and story.
Razor closed the door to the room and locked it. Without a word, he stripped her clothes from her, shed his, and then he pulled her into the shower with him. Their soapy hands explored each other. When they stepped from the shower and toweled off, he leaned into her and spoke husky words across her ear. “All day, I have thought about having you again tonight.”
He kissed her and even though she was exhausted, she responded, her lips returning his kisses. She’d deal with being disgusted with herself for doing this again, in the morning. Having sex with him was mandatory, to keep her safe. And the sex with him was incredible, freeing. Her worried and fearful thoughts left her when he held her. After incredible releases, she felt relaxed and safe. Those feelings were illusions she knew, but she’d take them for the brief seconds that she could hold onto them.
He held her tightly, snuggled beneath the bedcovers. She drifted into sleep immediately, but he did not. He once again retrieved his phone and sent another secure message to the team asking if they’d had any luck with her prints. They had not. Again, he wished he had a keyboard. He’d find out who she was. With her face free of makeup, and man was she a natural beauty without all that crap on her face, he took a picture of her and sent it, hoping facial recognition would ID her.
Then he snuggled in again and held her. Somehow, he felt at peace when he held her, something he hadn’t felt in the six months he’d been under. He fell into the shallow sleep he was accustomed to while in deep cover. He couldn’t wait till this assignment was over, so he could get a deep night’s sleep. It had been so long.
The dog’s barking and nervous pacing heightened all her senses. She already had the .45 in her grasp before she let Bailey off her leash. The image flashed to the note, and the words that were not written by her hand, then the blood on the floor, Greg’s cold, lifeless face staring at her. She heard the bullets as they ricocheted off the dumpster, the sound of them impacting it right beside her, each one an explosive repercussion. Her heart thumped so hard in her chest, and the taste of bile rose in her throat.
“No!” She screamed out as she came awake with a start, her breaths deep draws.
“Only a dream, sweetheart,” Razor’s gravelly voice whispered.
She felt a kiss press to her cheek as she tried to catch her breath. She wished the images and sounds were only a dream.
“You’re in a world of shit,” Razor remarked without asking. He pressed another kiss to her forehead. He was leaning over her now. His fingers traced lightly over her soft face.
He wanted to ask, to know what she was facing. He wanted to make it better, but that was not in this Razor’s character. He could only hope his team would get to the bottom of who she was and what she was running from before they made it to Colorado. More specifically, the northwest corner of bumble-fuck-nowhere, an isolated mountain town in the wilds of Colorado where he was to leave her off, package delivered, job completed, last half of the payment to be rendered in full.
No, he would not be doing that. He would not be leaving her off there and riding away. His gut told him this was a major fuck-storm she was involved in, running from. He was her only chance. She just didn’t know it, couldn’t know it...yet.
A sliver of light filtered in through the curtains. She could just make out his face hanging over hers. How she wished she could tell him what was going on and ask him for help. She breathed out heavily. No, that’s what Benjamin was for, not what this man’s role was. Greg trusted Benjamin, so she would too.
Instead of speaking, she reached her lips to his. Her fingers tangled in his soft locks and held his head in place. The sensation of his body against hers brought her the myth of safety. His manhood hardening against her as he rolled onto her increased her desire, her desire to be held, her desire to be loved. Lost in his kisses, all fear left her as their bodies entwined. She could block it all out for a few wonderful moments that were just about pleasure. And she deserved it, selfish thoughts she knew, but needed distractions from the fear her life had been for a month.
The caravan of bikes left the town and motel in its dust before nine the next morning. The two county sheriff cars escorted them to the county line. With the sun at their backs, they rode through the sprawling emptiness. It was just past noon before they stopped at a gas station with a nearby convenience store.
Razor leaned against the side of the building beside the Ladies Room at the rear of the gas station. Charity was within. He accessed the secure app on his phone to find several messages from Yvette.
“Photo recognition gave us an ID on your friend. Sienna Andrews.”
A picture popped up of a fresh-faced, girl next door beauty with light brown hair, and a warm smile he’d give his left nut to see gazing at him from the pillow beside him every morning. She had the same soft blue eyes, the same beautiful bone structure gracing her face. His lips curved into a smile as he stared at her picture. Yes, this was her all right.
“Her husband was murdered last month. I’ll push her bio and the police reports through in separate messages,” Yvette’s message said.
He flipped through the material in her bio. She and her husband shared a home in Fairfax, Virginia, just outside of DC, where he was found dead, by her, just over a month earlier. She worked as a kindergarten teacher at a private school. Nothing suspicious flagged in the team’s preliminary investigation into her life, except the dead husband. Even that, the local authorities theorized robber surprised by resident as the motive.
His eyes met hers as she pulled the bathroom door open. He clicked out of his phone and slipped it into his pocket. She slid her sunglasses back over her eyes as she took a step out. He caught her by the arm and halted her.
“Take your sunglasses off for a moment,” his gruff voice ordered.
She slid them to the top of her head, her soft blues silently questioning him why. He was gazing at her in an odd way, as though he was memorizing every detail about her. She felt his hold of her soften. His hand softly kneaded her bicep where he held her. She felt his body press against hers as he crowded close, causing her to take a step back, which made her plant her back against the bathroom door. He stepped into her space, his body pressed to hers.
“Is something wrong?” She finally asked. She felt lightheaded. She realized she was barely breathing. Her entire body reacted to the arousal his body against hers created.
His other hand raised and caressed over her cheek. He fingered her jaw, his thumb brushed over her lips, which he watched quiver beneath his touch. “We’re camping outside tonight, the whole group.” His voice was soft, raspy. He leaned in even closer, his lips to her ear. “I want inside you, now.”
Then his lips took hers. She returned his kisses, ensnared in the passion that radiated from him. His hand found its way to the door knob and he opened it. He pressed her through the open doorway, closing and locking it once they were within, without his lips breaking from hers. His hands groped over her, quickly peeling her jeans down her legs. Then he dropped his own.
Pressed against the wall in the bathroom, her breaths panted in time with his as he plunged into her. It was raw, primal, nothing sophisticated or pretty about it. As he grunted, his release nearing, her soft whimpers of pleasure joined. He collapsed completely against her after, and he held her as he caught his breath.
The only thing keeping her on her feet was his body, pressed firmly against hers. It was a crushing weight she didn’t want to ease. His still throbbing member was deep inside her, which was the first sensation that came to her when rational thought fought through the fuzziness in her brain. The next thought was what they’d just done. Sex in a truck stop bathroom, intense, visceral, crude. She should have felt disgusted with herself, revolted, but she didn’t.
His eyes met hers and a glimmer of so
mething warm shone in them, in the black depths that she felt reach into her very soul, invading her. She knew she was open and vulnerable to him as she fought to recover her breath and her voice. She was rocked by the power of the act they’d just shared. She had given willingly. He had never taken anything from her by force, but she still felt shaken by it.
He saw the kindergarten teacher in her return stare, innocent, vulnerable, desperate. Whatever had happened to her husband that she was running from, she’d had nothing to do with, he was sure. She was a frightened fawn, under his gaze, the big bad hunter. He should have felt bad for that. He didn’t because he also saw and felt an awakening in her, each time they kissed, touched. Below the surface there was a slow burn of desire in her that he felt. It screamed that she wanted him as urgently as he wanted her. And there was the peace he felt when he held her tightly to himself that was as addictive as any narcotic, which he craved like a junkie. Yes, this thing between them was powerful, mutual, necessary.
