After a moment or two, he dragged his hands down his face. “Look, I like you, Sky. I like when you’re here, with me, kissing me. And I like touching you. Being with you.”
“I like you, too,” I said quickly. “And everything else you just mentioned.”
“But that’s exactly why you shouldn’t be here. I like you too much to hurt you, and believe me when I say this.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “If you stay, if you keep coming back to me, I will hurt you. I promise you that.”
I shrugged out of my coat, letting it hit the floor. I wore a tight black dress that hugged the curves of my hips perfectly, something I knew Scotty would appreciate. I grabbed the hem of the dress, locking eyes with him. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take tonight. Still want me to leave?”
Scotty stayed still, neither retreating nor stepping closer, keeping his expression closed off to me. “Hell no.”
“Good.” I pulled my dress over my head, letting it hit the floor. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m an optimist like that.”
He didn’t move, just stared at me like a haunted man running from the shadows. “I know. It’s one of the many things I like about you.”
“There’s many things?” I asked.
“Mm-hm. Like . . .” He came up to me, walking around me in a circle. He kissed the back of my shoulder, where my neck met it. “This spot right here.” His fingers ran over my butt before he palmed it, squeezing roughly enough to make my breath hitch in my throat. “And your ass is easily the hottest ass I’ve ever seen.” He gently spun me, his hand still on my butt. When I faced him, he pulled me closer, running the back of his knuckles over my cheek. “And your skin is so soft, and the way your eyes light up when you look at me is addictive. And your lips . . .” He leaned in, kissing me gently. Pulling back, he added, ”They’re the sweetest lips I’ve ever tasted.” His hand slid behind my neck, and he rested his other on my chest, releasing his hold on my butt. “And this? Your heart?” It sped up under his touch. “It’s pure. Too pure for a guy like me.”
His mouth melded with mine, stealing my words right out of my mouth. I fisted the fabric of his shirt at his hips, swaying closer. He swooped me up in his arms and carried me into his bedroom, his mouth never breaking contact with mine. As he lowered me to his mattress, he covered my body with his, easily slipping between my legs as if he belonged there all along. The way he made me feel—breathless, achy, and complete—was addicting.
And for the first time, I was worried about the way he made me feel.
Worried I might never get enough.
He broke off the kiss, leaving a trail of fire in his wake as he kissed his way down my body. I lifted my hips to try and get closer to him, and realized I still wore my heels. I started to kick them off with the help of the mattress, but he gripped my ankle, lifting it to his mouth. After kissing the inside of it, he said, “Keep them on. They’re hot as hell.”
He nipped the skin there, and then placed my foot on his back as he crawled his way up my body, stopping to place a soft kiss on my inner thigh. By the time he pulled my thong off and tossed it aside, I was already a trembling mess. He flicked his tongue over me, and I moaned, writhing on his soft green comforter with no shame.
He closed a hand over my breast to play with my nipple while the other slid under my butt, lifting me so he could drive me crazy with his tongue. And he did.
God, he did.
His tongue moved over me in steady circles, resting over my flesh every once in a while to apply more pressure. Every time he paused, it sent me closer to the edge until he pinched my nipple, twisting slightly, and didn’t just push me off the ledge—I flew. I saw stars, the sun, and the moon, and when I came back down, he was sliding inside me, cupping my cheeks in both hands, and kissing me tenderly.
Kissing me like I mattered.
I moaned into his mouth, and he thrust harder, his mouth increasing the pressure over mine. Every nerve in my body was tuned into his movements, and I lifted my hips higher, desperate to take more of him inside me. His movements quickened with each stroke and every time he moved, something coiled tighter and tighter until I was sure I’d die without him here, holding me. He groaned and tilted his hips, hitting a spot that made that pleasure snap, and I came.
Scotty lifted me higher as he thrust once, twice, and then bam. Letting out a few soft curses, he collapsed on top of me, cradling the bulk of his weight on his elbows so he didn’t crush me. We didn’t speak for a while. Just lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting our breathing calm down enough to speak. When he lifted himself up on his elbows and looked down at me, his lips were soft and his eyes were a gentle, warm green.
Just as I was thinking I could stay here forever, wrapped in his arms, he opened his mouth and said, “What do you need to study tonight?”
Oh. Right. Was that my cue to leave?
Back to reality, Skylar.
“Advanced Biology.” I glanced at the clock, wincing when I saw it was already almost midnight, and I had to be at the shelter day care at eight. It would be a long night, with little to no sleep, but spending a short time in heaven with Scotty was worth the inevitable bags under my eyes tomorrow morning. “I should probably get going, actually.”
He rolled off me, flopping onto his back. He was hard, and sweaty, and naked, and hot as hell—but I forced my attention from his body as I slid off the bed, or else I’d never leave. As I bent down to grab my panties, he said, “I like having you in my bed.”
“Oh.” I stepped into my panties. “I like being in your bed. It’s . . . nice. But it’s not exactly conducive to studying.”
“It could be,” he said, lifting up on one elbow. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, if you want to hang here, and study in my bed. I’m in the middle of an amazing James Patterson book right now, so I’ll be quiet.”
I blinked. “You read for pleasure?”
“Of course.” He frowned. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t really have time anymore.”
“There’s always time for an escape from real life,” he said slowly. Reaching out, he caught my wrist and tugged me back onto the bed, giving me the most charming smile ever to grace this side of the earth. “Stay? Escape real life with me.”
“Okay,” I whispered, resting my head on his chest.
“You can study in my bed any night you want, even,” he added, playing with a piece of my hair. “Or I could read in your bed.”
My heart picked up speed. “One question, though.”
“Yeah?” he said, his voice deep and rumbly because my ear was pressed to his chest, his voice hard. I’d learned he didn’t like when I asked questions. They made him uneasy. “What is it?”
I ignored the millions of questions I had about us, and what his invitation to stay in his bed meant, and settled for, “Can you go get my books for me?”
CHAPTER 13
SCOTTY
I walked down Maple Street in the heart of Steel Row, whistling under my breath with my hands in my pockets, feeling like a happy son of a bitch. It wasn’t a feeling I was comfortable with, but that didn’t change the fact that my step was lighter, and my body was relaxed. For once, I was actually looking forward to going home because Sky was waiting for me.
With dinner.
She cooked for me.
We’d been sleeping together for a few days now, and that was a-okay with me. Tate and Torres wanted me to keep an eye on her, and it was a hell of a lot easier to do so when she was in bed next to me. That was the reason I hadn’t ended things yet. The simplicity of having my charge close by.
Or so I kept telling myself, because anything else would be stupid as hell. Everything we had together was built on lie upon lie, woven together like strings, and if she tugged on one, it would all fall apart. And it was only a matter of time until someone, or something, tugged. I wasn’t so fa
r gone that I didn’t see reality, or was completely ignoring the fact I was jeopardizing everything I’d so carefully built, just for a few nights with a woman.
But I finally understood why Lucas and Chris had risked it all for a girl.
Some girls were worth the risk.
Skylar Daniels was one of them.
We didn’t stand a fireball’s chance in the Arctic of making what we had into something real, but still. This was . . . Having her in my life was . . .
Nice.
“Dude.” Chris elbowed me in the ribs hard. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I snapped out of my head, scanning the streets for any signs of danger. A guy in my line of business couldn’t afford to daydream like a kid. There were two blond teenagers behind us, on phones, and two more across the street staring at us. One had brown hair and one had a shaved head. Both were sporting ink and looked like they might be carrying.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “You were saying?”
“Last night, Gus’s wife was attacked. She’s okay, but they’re attacking our families now. And Molly’s at work today. High schools have metal detectors, but they haven’t resorted to frisking kindergarteners yet, and all I keep thinking is that she’s defenseless out there without me. I just want this damn thing to end.”
Shit. Maybe Tate was right about being worried for Sky’s safety. But if the DEA hadn’t known about her up until now, how would Bitter Hill? She’d be fine. I’d make sure of it. I remained silent, surreptitiously checking out the men across the street again.
Chris watched me with concern, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. It was a chilly September morning, and his cheeks were flushed from the wind. “Is everything okay, man? You’ve been acting strange.”
“I’m fine.” I rested my hand on my holster. The two teens across the street stood up, tugging on their black leather coat sleeves. They didn’t look more than nineteen or twenty years old. Kids, still. I’d been seventeen when I joined the Sons, but they’d kept me as a runner for years, and I never went on missions or sales. Not until they were sure I could handle myself.
Bitter Hill couldn’t be sending these kids after us.
Not even they were that low.
I shifted my stance uneasily, ducking my head but keeping an eye on them just in case I was wrong. We were two blocks from the clubhouse, so as long as we hurried and didn’t stop to chat, we’d be okay. “Five o’clock.”
“What?” Chris frowned. “No, it’s three. See what I mean? You’re distracted, and smiling all the damn time. Why are you smiling so much—?”
“Dude. Shut the hell up.” I gripped my gun. “Five o’clock. Two kids. They’re—”
“Not the ones you should worry about.” A trigger clicked behind us, and I froze. I’d been so busy watching the other boys, I hadn’t heard the other ones behind us creeping closer, because they’d looked even younger than the two across the street. Classic rookie mistake. “Hand off the gun. Now.”
I let go, gritting my teeth and shooting Chris a warning glare—who had the long-haired blond boy behind him. Shit. “Who are you, and what the hell do you think you’re doing on our turf?”
“Taking out the trash.” The barrel of a gun pressed against the back of my head. “Bitter Hill wants to send a message.”
The kid behind Chris did the same, pressing it against his skull, and leaning close enough to rest his chin on Chris’s shoulder. He was trembling, and sweating, and his eyes were as shifty as his grip on his Sig. The kid was probably only seventeen, if that, and should be in school instead of holding a damn gun to our heads. Bitter Hill shouldn’t have sent him to kill experienced fighters like me and Chris.
This was a suicide mission, and these fools were too damn young to know it.
I locked eyes with Chris, shaking my head once, silently telling him to remain calm and not to kill these kids. He tensed, but nodded. All Chris had to do was jerk to the side, spin, and grab the gun before this inexperienced boy could pull the trigger.
“See my buddies over there?” the long-haired blond boy behind Chris asked. He looked like he belonged on a surfboard instead of on the streets of Steel Row.
Chris nodded, looking entirely unconcerned about the gun pressed to the back of his head as he looked where he was told to look, playing along. I’d seen him survive worse, so it didn’t surprise me too much that he hadn’t lost his cool. “The ones I’m gonna kill? Yeah. I see them.”
I nodded my head once, curling one finger into my palm, giving Chris the signal he’d been waiting for. “Look, you don’t stand a chance in hell of walking away from this alive if you try to pull those triggers. Bitter Hill should stick to drugs, because guns aren’t your thing. I bet you don’t even know how to load that thing by yourself.”
The shorter blond behind me pressed the gun closer to my skull, digging into my skin. “But I bet I know how to fire it. Want to find out?”
I focused on my breaths, keeping them calm and evenly spaced as I familiarized myself with exactly where we were on Maple Street. To our left was Pete’s Barber Shop, and to the right was a cheap bar that made the Patriot look like the Grill 23 & Bar. The closest cops were at least ten blocks to the west. I didn’t want to kill these kids, but if they wouldn’t listen to reason, I wouldn’t have a damn choice. “I’ll let you walk away, I’ll let you live, if you drop the gun and start walking right now.”
Long-haired blond boy blinked the sweat out of his eyes, and tightened his finger on the trigger. He was going to shoot Chris if we didn’t stop him, and that wasn’t a loss I was willing to accept. “Whatever, man. Let’s end this and go home, Bobby.”
I nodded once at Chris. “Go.”
“You should have walked,” Chris said casually.
And then we both spun, taking the inexperienced boys off guard. The one facing me, Bobby, stumbled back, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Pain seared through my arm, and I launched myself at him at the same time as a gunshot boomed next to me. I had no idea who pulled the trigger—Chris or the blond boy—but I couldn’t look yet.
I was too busy with my own fight.
When I landed on the sidewalk next to my attacker, the gun skidded away from both of us. I still had mine, but I wouldn’t shoot an unarmed kid. I’d rather try to save him, and maybe show him that there was more to life than being a sacrificial lamb. So instead, I wrapped my arm around his neck, rolling him to the side as I choked him out. As I held the lanky, struggling teenager, who showed no signs of passing out any time soon, tight against me, I saw the kid across the street lift a gun and aim at me. “Shit.”
The damn kids were everywhere.
Was Bitter Hill recruiting out of high schools now?
I ducked my head behind Bobby’s shoulder. A shot echoed, and I braced myself for impact in case the kid could actually aim. But then I realized it came from behind me—and the young man fell to the ground, his backward hat tumbling behind him, red blood seeping across his white shirt. The other kid who’d been across the road, the one with the shaved head, got one look at his buddy and took off running.
Good. Then I wouldn’t have to—
I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Chris take aim. He had blood running down his face out of his nose, and a split lip. His finger tightened on the trigger, and I knew he was a good enough shot to hit the running teen from this far away without blinking. “No!” I shouted, letting Bobby go once he finally went limp. “Don’t. He’s just a kid, and he’s running.”
Chris glowered, not letting go of his hold on the trigger. “I know. And soon, he won’t be.”
“You can’t.” I struggled to my feet. “He’s not a threat anymore, and he’s a kid. We don’t kill kids. We’re trying to save them, right?”
“Right.” He shifted, staring at the dead body by his feet, his head lowered, shoulders stiff. “He tried to kill me.”
>
“And you didn’t have a choice.” I gestured toward the running boy. “But with him, we do. We let him go. Let’s hide this one before—”
A gunshot broke me off, and we both spun, guns raised.
The kid across the street covered his head, and kept running, so it clearly hadn’t been him who’d tried to kill us. I scanned the area for whatever hidden threat I’d missed—and saw it. Brian aimed, fired . . . and didn’t miss this time. Neither did Frankie. The teen with the shaved head went down in a spray of blood against the corner of a weatherworn cement building. I stumbled back, my chest tight, lowering my gun. “Shit.”
Chris lowered his gun, his jaw tight. “At least it wasn’t us, right?”
I didn’t say anything.
Right now, I wasn’t sure I could.
Bitter Hill was taking this too far, sending boys to kill men. If they wanted to take us down, they should be sending lieutenants who understood the risks, and accepted them.
Not kids.
Swallowing hard, I tucked my gun away and surveyed the rest of the damage, trying to take my mind off the carnage. I’d been grazed on the arm, Chris looked like he had a broken nose—again—and the long-haired blond kid who’d attacked us had been taken down with a bullet between the eyebrows. He sat up against the brick wall to our left, blood and brain matter dripping down the wall behind him, all empty stares and slack jaw.
Such a waste. Such a damn waste.
When was this going to end?
Was it even possible to change Steel Row?
I’d been so sure, once upon a time, that I could do it. But now . . . the violence was escalating, kids were dying, and I was nowhere closer to solving the gang issue than I’d been when I’d sworn in as an agent in the first place. These senseless deaths . . .
They had to fucking stop.
“Damn it.” I dragged my hands down my face, letting out a long breath. “Why did they send kids at us when there’s no way they can win?”
Dare to Lie Page 13
