by Dallas Cole
I’m glad it’s dark out now, so Elena can’t see the stupid-ass grin plastered on my face as I drive us toward the Wild Horses Tavern out past Highway 12. I can taste her on my lips still—salty and sweet and every bit as honey-rich as I’d imagined. No. She’s even better. Better than my wildest fantasies, my deep, dark imaginings that saw me through countless endless days in prison. That sound she made when she came, the way her lips rounded, the scrunch of her nose and that in-fucking-credible body of hers tensing around me . . .
God, just thinking about it’s got me hard all over again. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this pool tournament.
Elena reaches over and squeezes my hand as we pull into the tavern’s parking lot. I take her hand in mine and kiss the back of it, slow and tender.
“Careful,” she warns me. “I may not let you out of this car if you keep that up.”
I grin. “Careful. I might believe you.”
She laughs and hops out of the Mustang. That black dress clings to all her curves while still managing to look soft, delicate—not overly skin-tight. All the same, I hurry to walk behind her. I can feel the bikers and other pool sharks twisting around to stare at her as she leads me into the tavern. I press my hand to the small of her back, and stare right back at them.
“How about a warm-up game?” Elena asks me, once I’m registered for the tournament. She props a cue against her boot and chalks it up, looking like an olive-skinned, dark-haired angel in her black dress and black boots.
I stride toward her, slow, and wrap my arms around her waist. “I dunno. I’m not sure I want to give away my tricks to the other players just yet.”
Elena runs her fingers down the front of my chest. “Oh, I’m sure you’re full of surprises.”
I laugh and give her a gentle shove. God, this feels good. I feel more natural around her already than I felt after years with Amber. But I’d always suspected it would be like this. Amber was fun and hot and as interesting as cardboard. Elena, though . . . she’s always been a dark pool whose depths I’ve yearned to uncover.
“All right, fine. One quick match. You’ll probably kick my ass, anyway.” I rack the balls and offer her the first shot.
“Winner gets to drive the Mustang home,” Elena says.
I laugh. “All right, deal.”
I put my pool cue together and circle the table, exaggerating my actions as I pretend to assess every angle of the opening shot. Then I look up at Elena with a wry grin. She bursts out laughing at me and jabs her cue in my direction.
“C’mon, pool shark. No delays of play.”
“I’m a master at work.” I lean over the table, line up my shot, and shoot. Two stripes sink it in on the initial break, so I indicate a third to Elena and walk around to aim for it.
I can feel her eyes on me, studying me, assessing me. She always had that way about her—this way of making me feel like she could see past all my bullshit and bravado. It kept me honest, once upon a time. Now, though, I’m nervous about what she might find.
I don’t want to ruin this—this fragile thing building between us. I know I’m not nearly the man I want to be in order to do her justice. She deserves so much more. But if I, imperfect and striving as I am, am going to make her happy, then I’ll fight for that with all I can.
I take a shot, but the cue hits too high on the ball and gives it a top spin I didn’t intend. “Shit,” I mutter. Elena laughs, high and cheerful, and I grin back at her. I could listen to the sound of her laugh for the rest of my life.
“All right, hot shot, let me show you how it’s done.” She indicates the four, lines up her shot, and sinks it easily.
“No fair. It was already right in front of the pocket.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know ‘fairness’ was part of the game.” She grins wide. “All right, six ball, back right pocket.”
“Go on, champ,” I tell her. “Show me how it’s done.”
She lines it up, but I can already tell it’s going to come up short. She’s trying to get too fancy, bouncing it off two walls, and she just doesn’t have the strength to bank it the way she means. I keep my mouth shut, though, and let her take the shot. Sure enough, the cue ball rolls to a stop not half an inch from the six ball she wanted to hit.
“Want a quick pointer?” I ask her, and she nods. I saunter over to her and reach around her. So quick I almost don’t catch it, she sucks in her breath. “You’ve got to have the right amount of power behind the hit. Try aiming lower on the cue ball. Like this.”
I guide her hands into position. But she’s not paying attention to the lesson—and neither am I. Her warm, flawless curves are pressed against my stomach and hips and, oh, fuck, she’s going to get me hard all over again. I swallow, torn between wanting to behave myself and wanting to hike her dress up and take her right here on the pool table, in front of the whole bar.
“Lennox,” she says, her voice low. I can feel it vibrating through her torso and against my chest. “Maybe we could . . . um, maybe we could go . . .”
But I never get to hear what she’s about to say next, because at that moment, Rory McManus looms into view.
“Now, Lennox, I know you’re not letting the lady win on purpose,” he says. A cold grin slithers over his face. “That’s not your style. Right?”
My whole body feels splashed with ice water. I let go of Elena and stand up straight, the mood instantly killed. The last time I saw Rory, he and I were running his mother’s drugs down to Taos in the Nissan. I was doing my best to obey all the traffic laws, to not stick out for any cops who might be watching us, while balancing that against making the delivery as quickly as we could. But Rory, my babysitter for the mission, was along for the whole ride, creeping me out with his quick mood swings and his extra-dark sense of humor.
I don’t want Elena exposed to him. I can’t let her be exposed to him. If he gets one whiff of my weakness for her, if he sees her as some sort of leverage to hold over me—
I draw a shaky breath and lean against the table, as casually as I can. “I’m just trying to stay flexible. We’re playing for fun.” I set my jaw. “No stakes.”
“No stakes. Sure.”
Rory laughs to himself, and his flunkies—Neshaun and Frankie—chuckle nervously. The girl attached to Rory’s side, however, looks terrified, her eyes too wide in her gaunt skull. I catch sight of the track marks along her arms and her hipbones jutting out of her jeans. Poor thing’s stuck under Rory’s thrall in more ways than one.
“So I guess you’re not entering the tournament?” Rory releases the girl, and she staggers to one side. Frankie catches her, and for a split second, a look of sympathy flashes across his face, but it’s gone just as quickly. “That’s too bad. What about you, honey?” He circles toward the table and comes to a stop right in front of Elena. “What’s your name?”
Shit. I offer up prayers to anyone who’ll listen that he doesn’t recognize her as Drazic’s niece. I do not want her stuck in the middle of my business with the McManuses. Whether Rory wants to play a sick game with her head or mine, I can’t let her get caught up in it.
“Ellie,” she answers, her tone challenging. I ease back. Smart girl. Don’t give him a chance to remember you. No one calls her “Ellie” except for members of Drazic’s crew.
“Ellie?” Rory snorts. “Sounds like a little kid’s name. But hey, if that’s what flies your flagpole, Solt, who the hell am I to judge?” He curls his upper lip, leering at me. “You keep driving for me the way you did in Taos the other day, you can fuck whatever you like.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’ve got to get Elena out of here. Get away from Rory. I may work for him, but he’s not my friend. He’ll never be my pal. And someday, I’ll leave the McManuses and all the rest of Ridgecrest’s shit behind.
“Well, good luck, kids. I’ve gotta go sign up for the tournament. Maybe we can play each other.” Rory snatches the girl back onto one arm and turns back to his flunkies. “See you around, Solt.
”
“Yeah, see you.” I grip the edge of the pool table and watch him retreat into the bar’s crowd.
After a few minutes, Elena approaches me and cups her hand over mine. I’d clenched it into a fist against the pool table without even realizing it. “Hey.” She laces her fingers through mine as I try to relax. “Are you okay?”
I swallow, hard, and run my other hand through my hair. Trying to clear my mind. Trying to pretend for her that I’m not forever in the McManuses’ debt. But it’s never going to change. I’ll never get the chance to be anything but their errand boy, because there’s nothing else left for me to be.
“Yeah. It’s fine,” I tell her. But I’m not convincing either one of us.
“That was one of the McManus boys, wasn’t it?” she asks sadly. “I thought you were close with them. But he seemed . . .”
“That one’s Rory. His brother, Sean, was my best friend in prison. But they couldn’t be more different.”
Elena rocks back on her heels, her expression tight. Rory rattled her, too. And it’s all my fault. I thought we’d be safe, coming out here, past their territory. A sick thought comes to me. Did Rory follow me? I wouldn’t put it past him and Mama at all. Make sure I’m staying loyal. Learning everything they can about me—finding every bit of leverage they can hold over me.
And now they know about Elena.
“You know what . . .” I slide my hand into Elena’s and spin her around so she’s facing me. She smiles instantly, and leans into my embrace. Unafraid. I want to be brave for her. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t need to play in some stupid tournament anyway.”
She laughs. “Are you sure? We came all this way . . .”
“I got to watch the sunset, I got to spend a few hours with my favorite girl . . . that’s all I care about.”
She tilts her head to one side, regarding me, then nods. “Okay. But I get to drive the Mustang!”
I glance over my shoulder, scanning the tavern. Rory’s holding court with some of the other contestants. Good. They can keep him busy. I hurry to keep up with Elena as she maneuvers her way out of the crowded tavern back toward the parking lot.
We stop at a drive-thru burger place on the way back up Highway 12 and eat on the hood of the Mustang, leaning back against the windshield. Elena wipes a smear of ketchup off her gorgeous, juicy lips and looks at me with a shy grin. “You wanna know a secret?” she asks.
“I want to know all your secrets.”
She laughs and nestles closer toward me. “When you first got sent away, I used to look out at the lonely stretch of the high desert and the stars over it, and think about what my life could be.” She gestures toward the brilliant star-studded sky spread wide above us. “And I’d think, ‘I wonder if Lennox can see anything like this. If he’s looking out at the world, even if it’s just through a tiny window, and dreaming of better days.’” She shrugs, embarrassed. “I dunno. I guess it made me feel less alone, to think you were out there, looking at the stars with me, and thinking about what comes next.”
“You weren’t angry with me?” I ask. I don’t quite have the heart to tell her that the future wasn’t high on my priorities back then. Most nights were a struggle to stay alive. It was me, Sean McManus, and Paolo against the gangs—skinheads, thugs, hyper-religious cliques, and much, much worse.
“I was . . . confused.” Elena wipes the ketchup off her mouth with a napkin. “God, I didn’t know what to believe. All I knew for sure was that my family had shrunk. We lost you and Troy, and people only seemed interested in mourning Troy. I hated it. I hated that things had to change.”
My heart sinks. She’d lost her parents at a young age, and she clung to all of us as fiercely as if we really were her flesh and blood. I can’t blame her for feeling overwhelmed and betrayed.
“Everyone hated you for what you did. It was all they could talk about for a while,” she continues. “But I was so confused. I knew you—I never would have thought you’d drink and drive, especially not with more lives on the line than your own. And then Uncle D said—” She stops herself suddenly, then hunches her shoulders. “Well, he said he didn’t understand it, either, but that he had to treat you the same as he would treat anyone who’d betrayed the crew.”
I frown for a moment. What had Drazic really said? I hoped, for his own good, that he kept it to himself. Alexander Cartwright presented a different danger than the McManuses did, but he was just as powerful. In some ways, more.
“I’m sorry, El. I wish there was some way I could go back in time and change things.” If she only knew how much. “But I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you giving me another chance. It’s . . . it’s more than I deserve.”
“No. Don’t start that again.” She folds her arms. “I love you just how you are. Right now.”
She loves me. A grin carves across my face, refusing to give in to my fears, my frustrations. Elena loves me. I mean, I’d always dreamed of it—I’d always suspected it—but even now, after everything that’s happened, she’s not afraid of me. Of who I am, even after everything I’ve done.
But she doesn’t know how dangerous I am right now. And if Rory McManus knows what she means to me . . . I’m going to find it a whole hell of a lot harder to keep my promise to her one day. To get out from under these criminals’ thumbs and be an honest man for her.
Elena parks around the corner from Drazic’s house and kills the engine. The sudden silence rings heavy in my head. I reach out and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ears, earning me a bright smile. God, I could spend the rest of my life trying to earn those smiles from her.
“El . . .” I take a deep breath. She twists toward me, expectant, but her smile falters at the sight of my serious expression. “I love you, too. I always have.”
She grins, her cheeks darkening in the dim light. “Always?”
“Ever since I got to know you. That clever mind of yours.” I cup her knee with my hand. “I want so badly to be yours. But listen—I know I’m putting you in a tight spot. I get it if it’s not the right time. Believe me, I do.”
She shrinks back into herself. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s not like your uncle . . . or the rest of your ‘family’ . . . are exactly thrilled with me right now.” I grimace. “And then the people I’m working with now . . . I just couldn’t ever forgive myself if something were to happen. They’re not good people, El. I’m not a good person.”
“But you didn’t have any other choice,” she says. “That’s what you told me.”
“I didn’t.” I sigh. “But that doesn’t make it any safer for you. I can’t get you caught up in this. Elena, I swear, if anything were to happen—”
“Jesus, Lennox, it’s fine. Yeah, the McManuses are creepy, but so what? I’ve dealt with creeps before. Deal with them constantly at the shop, and at the races. I’m not scared—I know how it is.” She glances down. “As for my uncle . . . I don’t know. I think he’ll come around. We just have to give it time.”
But her cheerful tone sounds forced. She’s as unsure about Drazic as I am. I wonder, even if I told him what really went down, if it could change anything. If there’s anything I could do to win his approval back. Probably not.
I reach for her, cradling her head in my hands. She’s so beautiful, lined in silvery moonlight, her eyes and mouth dark and inviting. I want nothing more than to lose myself in her. But I have to think about consequences. That’s always been my problem—I’ve been too quick to act or agree to something without really thinking the repercussions through.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“Then what else matters?” she asks.
I can’t stand it any longer. I tangle my fingers in her long, silky hair and pull her close for a kiss. She tastes like the sweet desert air; her hands are warm and soothing as she runs them along my chest. I’ve only gotten a small taste of the incredible woman she’s grown up to be, and I want to know more. I slide one hand over her breast, my thumb t
racing a circle around her nipple, and move my mouth to her throat. Suck at the delicate skin there, sweet as nectar.
Elena gasps for breath. Her fingers are running dangerously close down the front of my shirt, and she locks them around my belt buckle. I groan and shift, my erection straining against the fly of my jeans.
“No one’s home right now,” Elena whispers. The huskiness in her tone is driving me wild. God, I love turning her on. “If you . . . if you wanted to . . .”
“You’re sure it’s all right?” I ask. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
She laughs throatily. “Oh, Lennox, you’re nothing but trouble. But yes. I’m sure.” And then she closes her hand around the outline of my erection. I groan, desperate. “I want you. All of you.”
“I want you, too.”
We scramble out of the car. Elena wraps her fingers around my wrist and leads me through the shadows of her hillside neighborhood, glancing over her shoulder at me from time to time with a sly grin. Her uncle’s house must have been a nice homestead for a Ridgecrest miner once upon a time, but it’s in disrepair now, the front porch posts leaning dangerously to one side and the white clapboard flaking. Elena’s face gleams in the moonlight as she beckons for me to wait at the bottom of the porch steps.
I don’t mind waiting. Gives me a better view of that perky ass of hers as she bounces up the stairs.
“Okay. We’re clear.”
I follow her through the front door. The sight of Drazic’s living room hits me with the full force of a thousand memories. Some of the furniture’s been changed out, or moved around, but I still recognize the painting over the fireplace, the same crappy TV Drazic refused to upgrade . . . and then, in the kitchen, the rickety wooden kitchen table. How many times did I have to stop myself from fantasizing about Elena sitting on that table, wrapping her legs around my waist? And now it’s happening for real.
“Imagine.” I wrap my arms around her from behind and nestle my mouth against her ear. “I could take you right here. Bend you over and feel that tight, hot pussy of yours—”
