The Alpha's Captive

by V M Black

  But steering locks were easy enough to defeat. And she knew how, having driven Summer’s brother over to the old Martin place to get his bike back when Mason Martin had taken it. The only thing that kept the steering wheel from moving was a small metal pin, and she had the handlebars to use as a lever against it, plus all the strength in her legs….

  She flung herself onto the seat of the motorcycle, grabbing the seat with both hands, and pulled her legs up against her belly, balancing her feet against the very end of the handle that was turned closest to her. And she pushed, hard, the muscles in her legs and butt and stomach straining.

  It gave with a snap so sudden that the tire jerked the other direction, and Harper was nearly flung from the seat. She caught her balance just in time to keep from going over—and maybe even pulling the motorcycle down on top of her.

  The front wheel turned freely. Now it was just a matter of getting the motorcycle started. That was simplicity itself, but every second she took meant that Baby was getting farther and farther away.

  Harper groped under the carbon fiber cover near the ignition, finding where the wires of the electrical system ended in plugs that slotted into each other. She pulled apart the one that went to the ignition. All she needed now was a wire to short it out.

  She separated a single wire from its bundle and flicked her pocket knife open with her thumb. In a few seconds, she had a short length of wire, the plastic housing stripped from the ends, and the motorcycle’s left turn signal was toast. She slid the wire securely into the slots on the ignition plug, and several symbols on the dash lit up.

  Bingo.

  She raised the kickstand with the back of her ankle boot and checked the kill switch. Shifting to neutral, she pulled the clutch and hit the starter. The engine roared to life.

  She gave the empty road in front of her a grim smile as she eased up on the clutch and shifted into first.

  Hold on, Baby. I’m coming for you.

  And that bastard Levi was going to learn a lesson. Bad boy or not, no one messed with Baby.

  The motorcycle leaped forward.

  Chapter Four

  Levi unzipped his jacket and relaxed against the vinyl of the bench seat, twiddling the radio over to a country station as the wind whipped through the passenger window. Finally, something had gone right. He regretted leaving the girl behind. She was pretty much everything he liked in a woman—curvy, sassy, competent, and with a very good idea of what she wanted. She would have gone with him, too, and a little company was always welcome. Especially when the company came in a knock-out package like that….

  But hooking up with a woman, however hot, wasn’t exactly on the list of Smart Things To Do When On The Run From A Vampire, especially when the vampire in question happened to manage half the organized crime in Baltimore. He’d done the right thing for her sake, he thought virtuously, leaning back against the seat of the car he’d stolen from her.

  A glint in the rearview mirror made him glance up. It was the sun, shining off the plastic headlight of a motorcycle.

  Of his motorcycle.

  And it was coming up fast.

  Damn.

  How had she managed to start the thing?

  He considered flooring the Skylark, but there really wasn’t much of a point to it. Most cars, that one included, would be no match for even an average street bike, and his Superbike was no average street bike.

  So he kept his needle pointed at eighty-five as the motorcycle roared up behind him, the woman hunched over the handlebars with her bottle-red hair snapping in the breeze.

  He watched her approach in the rearview mirror. There was no way she could see anything, going at that speed without sunglasses or a helmet. Her eyes had to be streaming. She was crazy. She’d kill herself if she kept going like that….

  Levi dropped his eyes back to his dashboard and realized that he was slowing—fifty-five miles an hour and falling.

  Stupid, he told himself. Speed wasn’t the only thing that mattered, but it was important to put as much road between himself and Mortensen as possible. Even as he thought that, the needle fell further. Fifty. Forty-five.

  She was just behind him now. Harper, that was her name. She crossed the yellow line so that she was going the wrong way down the opposing lane of traffic—not that it mattered with the road as empty as it was—and pulled even with him.

  She reached out and banged on the window with a clenched first.

  Yep. Crazy.

  Levi decided that he liked her even more. He dropped to forty as she pounded a second time and rolled down the window.

  “Give me back my car, you bastard!” she yelled. Even with her hair whipping across her face, he could see the fury in it.

  “You’re going to get yourself killed,” he pointed out.

  “You took my car,” she shouted back as the wind snatched her words away. “Give it back!”

  Not gonna happen. Why the hell was he talking to her? “Did you hotwire that yourself?”

  “No, the Tooth Fairy did. Stop the car!”

  He pointed to the fuel gauge. “I can keep going like this for hours. I know that you can’t.”

  She snarled a curse and dropped back as an oncoming car appeared over the horizon. For a moment, he thought she was going to give up, but as it passed, she steered to the other side of his car and edged up along the narrow strip of asphalt that passed for a shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” he shouted at her.

  “Coming in,” she yelled back. And, in fact, she was reaching through the open window for the door frame.

  “You’re really going to kill yourself.”

  The woman was seriously going to try to drag herself in through the open window from the back of his motorcycle. He was only going thirty-five miles an hour now, but that was plenty to have a fatal outcome if she misjudged even a little bit.

  “I don’t even care!”

  Dammit. He didn’t want to be responsible for what passed for brains in that pretty head to be spilled out all over the asphalt. He lifted his foot off the gas.

  “Okay, okay. Bat-shit crazy wins.”

  The car slowed, the motorcycle keeping pace. He pressed the brake and downshifted, knowing he was making a mistake.

  Levi didn’t want her to get hurt, yet the sane part of his brain knew that her chances of getting in serious trouble were probably even higher if she was with him. If he really wanted what was best for her, he’d disable the motorcycle or tie her up or knock her out or something, just as long as she didn’t come with him.

  He was certain that talking her out of chasing him wasn’t going to work. And, he thought, taking in the magnificent view that her position hunched over the handlebars afforded him, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

  So maybe he wasn’t so great at decision-making. He’d managed to get out of all sorts of tight spots in the past. And he probably would in the future, too, right up into the moment that he didn’t.

  He stopped the car, and her hand came down on the edge of the open window as the bike stopped next to it. She kicked the stand down and killed the engine. Before he could react, her head and shoulders were through the window, spilling into the passenger side.

  So much for keeping her out of the car. That sent half a dozen semi-formed plans flying to the wind.

  “I had stopped, you know,” he said mildly.

  She gave another kick and wiggle, and her ample hips came through, too, her tempting backside up in the air.

  “Yeah, and you stole my freaking car, too. I don’t exactly trust you.” She struggled upright.

  That did interesting things to her anatomy, too, and Levi didn’t bother to hide his admiration as he shifted back into first and pulled out, leaving his motorcycle behind for a second time that day.

  He pretended he didn’t feel a twinge.

  “I really do need the car,” he said. “I’m not exactly in the habit of stealing them. In case you were wondering.”

  “You need anoth
er hole in your head,” Harper muttered, buckling in short, angry movements. The belt made her breasts stand out quite nicely under her shirt, too. “Did you steal the bike, too?”

  “No. It’s mine,” he said.

  She looked at him narrowly, and he could tell she was trying to decide whether to believe him. “Then why ditch it? And even if you needed to get rid of it, why not just ask for a ride? I would have taken you where you wanted to go.”

  “I caught that,” he said dryly. “But I didn’t want you along.”

  “You wanted to ditch me enough to steal my car? Even though you had the hots for me? Really?” She scraped the red tangle of hair out of her face with a disgusted look, then rummaged at her feet, retrieving with a bright pink purse. She pulled it open and dug around in it for a moment before coming up with a wide paddle brush with which battled her hair.

  “I didn’t say I had the hots for you,” Levi said mildly.

  Harper snorted. “Since when has a guy ever had to say anything?”

  “I’ll give you that one,” he granted. “I didn’t want you along because it’s dangerous.”

  “More dangerous than stealing my car from me?” Her look was a challenge.

  God, but she had a kissable mouth, full and expressive and, right now, still quite angry with him. Anger looked good on her.

  He knew better than to tell her that, though.

  “Yeah, I stopped because I’m nice. Or maybe because I’m stupid,” he said. “I didn’t stop because I thought you were dangerous.”

  She smiled sweetly, putting the brush back in the purse. “Well, I wasn’t, then. Because I didn’t have my gun.”

  Chapter Five

  “What the actual hell, lady!” Levi’s eyes went wide when he saw her pull the blunt end of the double-action-only .38 special from her purse and level it at him.

  “Pull over,” Harper said, permitting herself a small thrill of satisfaction at his reaction. Bastard tried to take her Baby. He deserved anything that happened to that pretty face.

  “You were headed into Maryland,” he sputtered. “That’s not even legal, there!”

  “I used my mom’s address,” she said, shrugging. “I live alone in Baltimore. The cops there don’t even care if you’re raped, as long as they can convince you not to report it. So I got a gun. And I’m from the sticks in Pennsylvania, so I’ve been shooting tin cans off a fence since I was five years old and I got my brother’s hand-me-down BB gun. You better believe that I’m not going to miss you from two feet away.”

  Those delicious amber eyes narrowed. “I didn’t have to stop and let you in, you crazy bitch.”

  “But you did,” she pointed out. “And now I’ve got a gun.”

  She probably shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. After all, the guy had just stolen her car, so he might be dangerous. But he had left behind his bike, so technically speaking, he’d given her more than he’d taken, at least dollar-wise. If the motorcycle really was his.

  “So do I.”

  Oh, that was honest, at least. Interesting.

  “I know. I saw the bulge.” She grinned to let him know the double meaning was intentional. “But yours isn’t drawn.”

  Levi looked at her narrowly, as if he were considering something, then turned his eyes back to the road. He didn’t slow down. “So what if I don’t pull over?”

  “I’ll shoot you.” She wasn’t bluffing. There was no way in hell she was going to let him keep Baby, even if he was hot enough to melt her panties.

  “You might not mind putting a hole in me, but what about your car? Blood will definitely leave a mark on the carpet.”

  She laughed. “You aren’t seriously trying to bargain with me after stealing my car, are you?”

  “I would have given it back,” he said.

  “Really?” she scoffed.

  He lifted one shoulder in a kind of half-shrug. “Well, no, but I would have left it where someone could find it, and it might have eventually gotten back to you.”

  Harper was getting tired of his backtalk. “Pull over.”

  With exaggerated care, he slid his hand around the steering wheel to flick the turn signal on, then eased onto the brake, his other hand palm-out in a defensive motion as he moved it to the gear shift.

  “That’s right,” she encouraged. “Keep braking.”

  He did, pulling over onto the grassy shoulder, the car rolling gradually to a stop. He pushed the emergency brake down with his foot and started to lower his hands.

  “On the steering wheel!” she barked. Harper didn’t want his hands anywhere near his waistband and the gun she was sure he had in a holster there.

  “Jesus, lady,” Levi said, but he obeyed, looking at her sideways.

  “Now, one hand on the door handle.”

  “If you want me out, I have to unbuckle first,” Levi said.

  “Don’t you put your hands anywhere near your waist.” She held the revolver steady. “I’ll take care of that.”

  She reached across with her left hand, keeping her right hand with the gun in it more than an arm’s length away. She kept her eyes fixed on his face, watching the belt buckle out of her peripheral vision. Her fingers found the button to free the belt, the metal rectangle flat against his thigh. She pushed—

  —And everything became a blur. He lunged for her, faster than a man could move, making a low growl in his throat. Harper’s finger spasmed around the trigger. The bang was like a slap in her ears, and the gun jumped against her palm, the barrel jerking upward as she tried to dodge his rush.

  Levi didn’t even slow. He reached across her body, his hand folding over hers on the gun, dragging her arm down easily even as she kicked him and punched him with her other hand. His hard body was over hers, the weight of it pinning her against the bench seat of the car—which in other circumstances, if he weren’t a car-thief psychopath, might be quite pleasant.

  He twisted her wrist mercilessly until she cried out in pain. Circumstances be damned, that was decidedly less pleasant.

  “Let go of the gun,” he said in her ear.

  “No!” She tried to bite him, but he dodged easily.

  “I’ll break your wrist. I won’t like it, but I will.”

  How could he have done all that? She’d had the gun trained on him, and when he moved, she had fired. It was impossible that she had missed at such close quarters. The bullet should have stopped him dead.

  “I shot you!” Harper said. “Why aren’t you shot?”

  “Let go,” he repeated.

  She considered her options. She didn’t have any.

  So she let go.

  Still lying full length on top of her, he shifted his weight just enough to shove the revolver into the back of his waistband. She took the opportunity to punch him in the jaw. But he just grabbed her wrists without flinching, one in each hand, and pinned them above her head to the door.

  “There’s no need for that,” he said. He was actually smiling down at her with a damnable lopsided grin. She was acutely aware of exactly how attractive he was—pretty shitty timing on her body’s part, as far as she was concerned. A trickle of awareness came up from her belly to heat her cheeks and ears, her nipples tightening against his chest and a sudden slickness between her legs.

  And the hardness against her thigh—the one that was most definitely not his gun—told her she wasn’t the only one affected.

  Cursing him and her body equally, she struggled in his grip. It did no good. “I want my car back.”

  “Okay. Fine. You win. You can have it back—when I’m done with it.”

  She glared at him suspiciously, searching those laughing eyes for some clue as to his sincerity. “And when will that be?”

  “When this cover’s blown,” he said. “Or I get to where I’m going.”

  “What cover? Why did you ditch your bike, if it really is yours?” She tugged in his hold. “And when are you going to let me go?”

  “There are some really, really bad guys afte
r me. Guys who make you and your peashooter look like a joke,” he said. “And as far as when I’m going to let you go—just as soon as I do this.”

  He lowered his head, and before she could do more than squawk in outrage, his mouth came down on top of hers, hot and hard and every bit as good as she’d hoped.

  It was a kiss without finesse, demanding and angry. After a second’s shock, she kissed him back just as hard, tasting his mouth as he took hers. The scent of his hair overpowered the sharp smell of cordite, a combination of the outdoors, soap, gasoline, and fresh sweat. He started to pull back, and she caught his lower lip momentarily, warningly between her teeth before she let him go.

  Eyes smoked with raw need, he looked down at her.

  “Well, then,” she said, raising a challenging eyebrow.

  “You’re crazy,” he said. He released her hands and pulled away, but the look in his eyes didn’t change.

  “Definitely.” She pushed upright and gave him a sideways look. “You really will give my car back?”

  “Yeah. Sure. No problem,” he said, turning back to the road and shifting the car into first.

  For some reason, she found the offhand comment more reassuring than a concentrated attempt to persuade her would have been. Probably because most guys who tried hard to convince her of something were blowing smoke.

  “And my gun?”

  He glanced sideways at her as he merged back into the single northbound lane. “I’m not so sure about that. You planning on shooting at me again?”

  She looked down at his chest for the first time. There, in the brown leather of his motorcycle jacket, was a perfect hole, right on his shoulder.

  “I did shoot you!” she said. She reached out.

  He shied away from her touch. “It’s a graze.”

  Narrowly, Harper considered the location of the wound. Yeah, right. “There’s no way that’s a graze.”

  Harper kind of felt sorry for him, but he’d had it coming, stealing her Baby. She could hardly believe that she’d actually shot another person—and she really couldn’t conceive of how he could have kept coming after she did, much less how he could sit there like nothing had happened. Whatever he said, a .38 had decent stopping power. She examined the bottom edge of his jacket, expecting to see blood flowing down over his pants. But there was nothing.