by Naomi West
Her beautiful, terrified body was hyperventilating, and he couldn’t do anything.
“You’re wrong!” she was screaming. “You need to go to the police. You can’t leave them chasing you; it’ll be even worse if they catch you on the run!”
“I’m already on the run,” Pierce snapped, finally losing his temper. Why wouldn’t she listen to him? “No matter what I do now, I’m screwed unless I find some evidence to defend myself with, as soon as possible. And that means finding Gunner and figuring out why he did this to me.”
Felice’s tiny fists beat against his chest. It barely even hurt, but it hurt more than she would hit him. “You’re wrong, goddammit, listen to yourself!”
“Felice! Pierce! Please stop.” Jennifer finally cut in, her voice ragged and unhappy. “This is literally getting us nowhere. How about instead of jumping in feet first, we make a damn plan?”
Felice turned to her friend, her body quivering like a rabbit’s. She took a deep breath, then another with her eyes locked on Jennifer’s. Once again, Pierce was blown away by the depth of their friendship. All Felice needed was Jenn by her side and she could handle anything. Even if that thing was the man she’d been sleeping with wanted by the police for a murder he didn’t commit.
It made Pierce want to punch Clay in his stupid face all the more. “Look at what he almost ruined; one of the best relationships I’ve ever seen between two people.” Pierce wished he had someone back home that he could trust so completely.
Jenny rubbed her hands over Felice’s arms as though she were warming her up. “See? Deep breaths. Now, Pierce. You can’t go just running back home without a plan. And Felice, you can’t just send him to the police without a plan.” Jennifer looked back and forth between them for a long moment, her nose crinkling as she thought it through. Suddenly, her face lit up and she snapped her fingers at Felice. “That private investigator your mom has on speed dial for her boyfriends, you think he might have contacts on the east coast?”
Felice sniffed exaggeratedly, her chest heaving with the depths of her breaths. “Maybe. I could ask. Why?”
Jennifer smiled at her friend, obviously happy that she was starting to calm down. Pierce was pretty happy about it, too, to be honest. “Now, here’s my idea…”
Chapter Seventeen
Felice
Jennifer was like the piece of wood that saved Kate Winslet in the movie Titanic. She was Felice’s Superman, her knight in shining armor. Nothing was too big for Jenny to tackle, and nothing in the world could change that. And Felice was more glad for that now than she ever had been in her whole life.
Taking a deep breath, Felice released her frightened, crazy anger. She breathed in Jennifer’s calming words, feeding off of her calm tone. And she managed to finally chill out long enough to really listen to what her friend was proposing.
“So here’s the plan,” Jennifer said, starting to write down ideas on a piece of paper. “We contact your mom’s private investigator and figure out if he has any friends on the east coast. We track down some people who can sniff around the murder without raising too much suspicion, and we find a way to clear Pierce’s name. Does anyone else have any ideas that they would like to share?”
Pierce pondered the question for a moment, his perfect eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t care how we do it, but I want Gunner to pay for what he’s done,” he answered, finally, his voice filled with a kind of determination that Felice had never heard in him before. “If this investigator thing doesn’t work out, I will have to head back home and fix this. I never should have left in the first place. I can’t go back in time, but I will do whatever I have to make sure that Gunner pays and I get my people back.”
Felice wanted to argue with him. “But, if you hadn’t come out here, we never would have met.” That thought bounced around inside of her skull like a pinball, blocking out the sound of Pierce’s and Jenny’s voices. A pain started in her chest, spreading out until every inch of her body seemed to hurt.
So instead of pretending to listen, Felice got up from her chair and walked away. She left the dining room, dragging her feet through the hallway and the living room. She found herself in the kitchen, and began brewing a pot of coffee without even thinking about it. It was cathartic, watching as the earthy, bitter liquid spilled out of the machine, as the scent of freshly ground beans filled the whole house.
Felice stared out of the kitchen window, watching as the sun continued to rise in the sky. This day had felt so long already that Felice was sure it must be at least dusk, but it wasn’t even noon.
“You okay?”
Felice turned around at the sound of Jennifer’s voice. “Yes,” she answered. But her hands shook as she took the carafe out of her machine and tried to pour herself some coffee into her favorite mug.
Jenny ended up taking the cup and the carafe away from her before she broke something. She poured the coffee herself, mixing in a little cream and some sugar, just the way Felice liked her coffee before handing it to her. Then Jenn poured herself a mugful, too. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Felice.”
“Where is Pierce?” she asked, not really wanting to talk about it anymore. The subject was exhausting, and she wasn’t sure she’d make it through another round of interrogation.
“He went outside to make a phone call; he says there is someone he knows back home that will get a message to his people but will not have his wire tapped. It’s the only way he can ask for help from those still loyal inside of his organization without getting caught.” Jennifer was watching her like a hawk, her chocolate eyes searching every inch of her for something.
“Are you sure you’re the right person to be giving Pierce advice?” Felice snapped, tired of being stared at like she was about to lose it. She didn’t feel like she was crazy, but Jennifer seemed to be waiting for signs that she was.
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “You know, I’ve made some dumb decisions, but I’m not an idiot. I’m also a master at getting out of bad situations,” she said, holding up her hands and smiling, “which makes me absolutely invaluable.”
But instead of laughing at her sass, Felice just because angrier. “Jenny, I’m serious. What are we supposed to do if none of this useless planning works out?” Felice couldn’t bring herself to say the rest, the words that haunted the edges of her lips and filled her mind. “How am I supposed to live without him if he goes to prison for life, or if he leaves and returns to the east coast?”
Jennifer crossed her shapely arms over her chest, pushing one hip out as her smile turned to a sneer. “This planning isn’t useless, Felice,” she answered, her voice deadly quiet. “I might not be perfect, but at least I’m trying to help. At least I’m not so straight-laced I might end up in a straight jacket. You know you are allowed to say no to your mother right? She can’t rule your life anymore; you aren’t fifteen. Have you ever said no to her once in your damned life?”
“What does this have to do with Pierce?” Felice’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
“You’ll let that woman decide who you should or shouldn’t be with; you know, after everything he’s done to the two of us, Clay doesn’t deserve you. Clay doesn’t deserve to win either. He deserves nothing from you,” Jennifer looked out of the kitchen window, her perfect hair starting to fall out of her half-hearted bun.
“Now Pierce- my goodness, girl, you are good at pickin’ them — he needs to get his head out of his ass and look around. He’s too quick to be rushing off and making rash decisions. What the hell was he planning on doing? Punching his way to the truth? This isn’t a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie.”
Felice just stared at her friend, mixed feelings clogging up her throat and cutting off any response she might have had. Jennifer was so very right, but also so wrong. She opened her mouth, but no words came out, so she clamped her jaw shut instead. After a moment, Felice sat down on one of the kitchen barstools hard and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t want Pierce to leave,” she whispered
finally. “But if he feels he needs to return home, I can’t stop him. Nothing I will say will change his loyalties to his people back home.”
“I can think of a few things that might change his mind,” Jennifer said, wiggling her shoulders suggestively. “But if Pierce knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay here. Forget who he was and what he was and just start over.”
Felice didn’t say anything to that; she wasn’t sure there was anything she could say.
So instead, she remained silent. And waited.
# # #
Pierce
“So you’ll get that to Razor?” Pierce said for the final time. He was pretty sure that he could trust Marlin to bring information to his contact inside of the Millennium Mayhem Motorcycle Club, but Pierce was also pretty damned sure he could have trusted Gunner with his life, too, once upon a time.
Which was why Marlin was the third person he called.
Pierce hoped that at least one would bring his message to Razor or Kent intact. If any of them were not loyal, Pierce would get an idea who pretty quickly, based on the people he entrusted with which message. Hopefully, they would send him a message on the generic email addresses he’d sent up for each of them to reply to him with.
Now only time would tell who he could trust and who was hoping he’d get caught. So far away from his people, he felt worthless, like he’d abandoned them. He wondered what had become of all of his friends and rivals back home, and if any of them believed he’d actually killed Snake Eyes.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter what they think now, just so long as they believe my message. If someone disappeared for a week without contact, I’d probably think the worst of him, too.”
Pierce reached into the pocket of his jacket and was surprised to find half a pack of cigarettes left. He only really smoked when he was out drinking with the gang, so this must have been left over from their last outing together. He pulled the pack out of his pocket and lit one, inhaling the bitter smoke deeply into his lungs.
If nothing else, the act of doing something took the edge off. “If I go back right now, they’ll lock me up and throw out the key. No one cares if they're already convinced you’re a villain. No one wants to know what really happened; they’re just happy you're finally behind bars.”
He would heed Jennifer’s advice, trying to build a case against Gunner before making another appearance at home. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Perhaps they would be able to hire someone to find out something for them, collect some clues, and make Pierce’s return home to Boston a good one. Instead of one in handcuffs dragged between two police officers.
He inhaled deeply, puffing the yellow-gray smoke into the perfect blue of the desert sky, a frown on his chiseled face. As much as he said the east coast was home, the more time he spent here with Felice, the more this felt like home. But that couldn’t be right.
Felice couldn’t have become so important in such a short period of time. Could she? Pierce didn’t want to delve too deeply into his feelings for her, but his heart seemed to have other plans. He daydreamed, not just about having Felice’s body, but also about making Felice’s home his own.
“A dangerous, impossible dream,” he thought, blowing smoke out into a ring in front of him. It doesn’t matter what I want or how I feel; a life with Felice is never going to be real. That kind of life would never work out. I don’t belong in her high society any more than she belongs in jail beside me. But that doesn’t change how much I wish it would work out.”
Pierce put out his smoke and went back inside, trying not to think at all.
Chapter Eighteen
Felice
Felice was still standing by the sink when she heard Pierce come back inside. Jennifer, on her way out, said something to him, but it was too quiet for Felice to hear. So she kept her eyes locked with the window, not really seeing anything outside.
Creaks on her hardwood floors warned her as Pierce came closer. Felice heard the front door shut as Jenny left, but she still didn’t turn around.
Pierce cleared his throat, and Felice’s fingers gripped the counter around the sink even harder. The tile felt cool and wonderful under hands, the kitchen so wonderfully stable. But the rest of the world kind of felt like it was tilting to one side. After a long moment of silence, Felice took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for falling apart. I — I didn’t know what else to do.”
There were little shuffling noises behind her. “I’m sorry, too, Felice.” He stepped even closer, until he was within touching distance. She could feel the heat of the outside echoing off of him, smell the scent of a cigarette on his skin. Shivering, Felice held still as Pierce stepped close enough to press his lips to the back of her neck. “I — That was unfair to start a fight with you. I run into things without thinking usually and, well, thank you for stopping me.”
Felice turned slowly in his arms, coming to face the beautiful man behind her. She knew he was sorry, but she also knew better than anyone that she might not be around to talk him down from whatever crazy thing he decided to do next. Sighing, tears pricking the edges of her emerald eyes, she ran her fingers along the shaved sides of his black hair, then traced the curved line of one of his tattoos down his neck to his collar.
“No one is perfect, and I’m not asking you to be, Pierce,” she whispered, falling head-first into the mocha color of his eyes. “All I ask is that you stop and take a deep breath before making decisions. I — ” Felice stopped before she could say too much; Pierce didn’t want to hear about her feelings. He didn’t want to hear how attached she’d become. She would only become a burden to him. She kept her mouth shut, kissing him instead.
He pressed her back against the sink, his hands sliding hard around her ribcage. His rough handling was enough to send a little thrill through her whole body, shivering along her skin like gooseflesh. Lips urgent, Pierce kissed her deeply and thoroughly, something different in the feel of him. There was something dark that the hot core of lust couldn’t seem to touch. But soon, Felice was so lost in the feel of him, those thoughts slipped from her mind for more urgent concerns.
Picking her up off of the floor with his strong hands, Pierce set her down on the edge of the sink, sliding his hips in between her knees to press closer to her. His leather jacket slid to the floor at a touch, and Felice pressed her soft lips to the curve of his neck, newly exposed. The skin there was salty and smelled of something spicy mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. Her hands caressed every inch of his body, trying to memorize every bit of skin. She wanted to know every line of his tattoos and every spot that made him moan when she touched it. Felice wanted to engrave the feel of his body on her memory forever, to keep him close when the world inevitably tore them apart.
Pressing closer, Pierce grabbed Felice’s thighs through the thin fabric of her skirt hard enough to leave little bruises like fingerprints. He forced their bodies closer, and she could feel every line of him against every bit of herself. His hands caressed, hard, and she moaned, throwing her head back as the fire mounted inside of her belly again. Her pussy throbbed like second heartbeat, aching for the touch of him. Any touch would do.
Felice cried out as Pierce slid his thumbs under the hemline of her skirt, slipping her lacy panties down the long lines of her legs, brushing every inch of skin he passed on his way to her feet. Then, on his knees in front of her, he looked up at her with a kind of wickedness that make her heart flutter. She liked how demented he could look, and more than anything she wanted to know what little wicked thoughts make his face light up like that. She wanted him to act them out on her flesh and give her wicked little thoughts, too.
Starting from the floor where he rested, his erection pushing hard against the fabric of his ragged jeans, he kissed the tops of her feet, caressing fingers and lips finding her ankles and slowly inching up. Felice closed her eyes, her mind tracing the maps he kissed into her skin. Flames flickered wherever his mouth brushed, turning into raging brush fires as he climbed his way nor
th, tattooing invisible patterns across her skin.
Felice moaned, low and long, in the back of her throat as Pierce reached her thighs, his teeth nibbling ever upward. He was driving her mad with the slow caress of his mouth over her body, and no amount of pleading and begging seemed to speed up his pace.
So when he finally reached the prize at the top of her thighs, she screamed into the silence of the kitchen. She was aware of everything in that moment: the cold tile against her bottom, the feel of her long hair caressing the skin of her back, and the ambient scent of fresh coffee in the background. But mostly, she felt the hot, burning lines that Pierce licked into her clit. He buried his face between her thighs like he needed to taste her to continuing living, his mouth slow, tantalizing, and yet hungry all at the same time. Grasping the sides of Pierce’s head, Felice rode against his mouth hard, screaming her pleasure into the empty house around her. Her whole body shook with every thrust of his mouth against her center, and she cried out in time with his caresses.
