Riding Dirty

by Jill Sorenson

  “I’ve already lost everything. Before I met you, I was dead inside. Now I’m alive again, and nothing else matters.”

  “Your safety matters.”

  “Stay with me one more day,” she said. “We’re already in trouble. At the very least, I can call WITSEC and you won’t have to deal with Damon.”

  After mulling it over, he agreed to her plan. They walked to the gas station in the cool early morning light. Cole held her hand, looking over his shoulder for patrol cars and into the sky for helicopters. By the time they arrived at the FastMart, Mia was starving. She bought a cold coffee drink and a banana nut muffin. Cole grabbed a breakfast burrito and a soda, in addition to a container of gas. They sat on the curb to eat.

  When she was finished, she rose to throw away the trash. “Check it out,” she said, spotting a dusty thrift shop across the street. “We should get some disguises.”

  “Disguises?”

  “Shorts or whatever. So we look like vacationers.”

  “Okay,” he said, crushing his soda can.

  The store was open for business, so they ducked inside. Mia found a ballet-style tank top, a gypsy skirt and a pair of leather sandals. She also selected a nightie and some cotton panties from the lingerie bin. Buying secondhand underwear seemed strange, but she pushed aside her misgivings. She was an outlaw now.

  Cole grabbed a few things off the rack, barely glancing at them. He added a baseball cap and a pair of worn Birkenstocks to the pile. Mia decided to get a hat for herself. She chose a straw fedora that had seen better days.

  Mia paid a myopic old lady for the items while Cole stood by the door, keeping watch. She thought he was being paranoid—until a police cruiser passed by. Motioning for her to get out of sight, Cole backed away from the dusty window and ducked behind a bookshelf, pretending to browse the titles. She gathered her things and went into the changing room, her heart racing. A minute later, his boots appeared beneath the curtain.

  “It’s clear,” he said quietly.

  She let him in, almost wilting with relief.

  “You sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Before they left the store, he donned the baseball cap and an aqua-colored polo. She changed into the tank top and put on the fedora. The minor changes made a big difference. They looked like tourists. Even so, the walk back to the bike was tense. Mia didn’t relax until they were fueled up and on their way out of town.

  Tranquility Springs was about ten miles north, down a long gravel road. Cole parked in the covered carport and they contemplated the sedate, Southwest-style architecture. It looked pretty rustic. More of a nature retreat than a five-star resort. She doubted anyone would look for them here, but the location had its drawbacks. Set against the San Bernardino Mountains, it offered privacy and solitude, rather than convenient escape routes.

  Cole turned up the collar of his polo to hide the tattoo on his neck. “Here,” he said, giving her a wad of cash. “I’m going to stand back and keep my hands in my pockets.”

  She put the money in her purse. “Should I use a fake name?”

  “Of course.”

  “What if they ask me for ID?”

  “They will. Say we just got married, and you haven’t changed your name yet.”

  “I’m not wearing a ring,” she said, rubbing the empty spot on her finger.

  “It doesn’t matter if they believe you. They’ll think we’re cheaters, not fugitives.”

  She nodded her approval. “You’re good at this.”

  “Better than you are,” he agreed.

  They stepped into an air-conditioned office. Mia was greeted by a stern-faced receptionist in glasses and prim dress. Not the flower child she’d expected.

  “Hello,” Mia said. “We’re looking for a room.”

  “Do you have a reservation?”

  “No.”

  “There’s a two-night minimum.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Adjusting her glasses, the woman placed a binder on the countertop and flipped open the pages. “This is an all-natural, eco-friendly adult resort that runs on solar energy. No cell phones or electronic devices are allowed. Cold and hot mineral water is piped in from underground wells. Each retreat has its own outdoor bath in a private space. We have log cabins, stone cottages and tree houses.”

  Cole made a strangled sound, sort of like a cough.

  The receptionist tapped a glossy photograph in her binder. “This stone cottage is the most secluded retreat available. It’s three hundred a night, including food and drink.”

  “We’ll take it,” Cole said.

  “You can dine at our restaurant. If you want to have your meals delivered—”

  “We do,” he said.

  “That’s an extra fifty a day. The spa at your retreat is for personal use, and you can also take advantage of the larger tubs in the courtyard or go for a cool dip in the swimming pool. It’s clothing-optional from three to five every afternoon, so plan accordingly. You’re welcome to visit during those hours and go bare, but carry a towel or cover-up with you.” The receptionist offered a cool smile.

  Mia counted out seven hundred dollars and signed the guestbook: Maria and Colby Smith. The receptionist glanced at Mia’s identification and didn’t bat an eye at the false names. “Enjoy your stay.”

  Cole opened the door for Mia. They passed through the office and walked down a garden path, into the courtyard. There was a large blue swimming pool surrounded by lounge chairs and potted palms. Several Jacuzzi tub-sized mineral baths were tucked under a shaded cupola. The café was nearby. Mia saw a few people drinking coffee and reading at tables. An older woman in a bathing suit sank into one of the spas.

  Their retreat was a short walk from the office, on its own acre of rolling desert. Pale green sagebrush and spindly ocotillo dotted the desolate landscape. It was severe and beautiful. The cottage itself was quaint, with an outdoor tub behind a privacy wall, overlooking the mountains. Inside, it was charmingly spare. There was a small bathroom, a wooden table with two chairs, and a basic bed in cool white.

  Mia collapsed on the soft mattress, stretching out her arms. A skylight directly above the bed would give them a great view of the stars. There wasn’t a damned thing to do here but take baths and lounge around naked.

  Cole didn’t show any reaction to the amenities, or lack thereof. He inspected every corner of the cottage and tested the strength of the door, as if planning for an ambush.

  “Do you think they’ll find us?” she asked.

  “Who, the cops?”

  “Who else?”

  “My uncle.”

  “Will he search for you?”

  “He might.”

  Mia shivered at the thought. Maybe she should call WITSEC now, before it was too late. But she wanted to savor their last day together, not surrender early.

  There was a large water carafe and two porcelain mugs on the table. Pouring them each a cup, he brought hers to the bed. “I know one of the men who attacked you is a member of White Lightning.”

  Her stomach fluttered with unease. “How?”

  “They do home invasions in the Riverside area, and Vargas wouldn’t have investigated the crime otherwise. He specializes in MCs.”

  She took a sip of cool water, making no comment. Cole’s logic was sound, but not incontrovertible. He didn’t know anything. When he sat down on the edge of the bed, she set her mug aside with a trembling hand.

  “You’re not going to tell me who it was?”

  “I didn’t see their faces.”

  “Then who did you expect me to kill, baby doll?”

  “I’m not your baby doll.”

  “I asked my uncle about your attack.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want Dirty Eleven associating with men who kill women. Or men who try to kill women, in your case. My uncle sent my brother on that doomed kidnapping job. I thought maybe he’d sent Rylan on this one, as well.”

 
She settled back against the pillows and stared up at the sky, wishing they could fly away.

  “Did one of the men have a tattoo on his wrist?”

  He was too intuitive for his own good. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “What makes you think that?”

  “Your reaction when I mentioned it in the hotel room.”

  “I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Mia.”

  “Then don’t ask me these questions!”

  “I can’t just let it go. I have to know.”

  She rubbed her forehead in anxious motions. “The man holding the gun had a tattoo with an E. I thought he was the one who assaulted me, but I was in a state of panic and confusion. The details are all mixed up.”

  “So it could have been my brother who tried to rape and kill you,” he said flatly.

  “No. I saw the man’s eyes before he put the pillow on my face, and Vargas showed me a picture of your brother. It definitely wasn’t him.”

  “Why would Vargas show you his picture?”

  “He knew about the tattoo. He put two and two together, after learning that your club was collaborating with White Lightning.”

  “If my brother wasn’t your attacker, then he stood by and let the other guy smother you.”

  “I don’t know, Cole. I really don’t.”

  “And you wouldn’t tell me, regardless.”

  She might not. He’d already proved he could figure things out on his own, with very little information from her. “I don’t want you going after anyone to avenge me.”

  He grunted in response.

  “Would you go after them?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t even care who they are at this point,” she said, shaken.

  He turned away, resting his elbows on his bent knees. “My uncle had you followed. He knows where you live. You can’t go back now.”

  She snuggled up behind him on the bed and massaged his tense shoulders. “Let’s just forget about the past and the future, and live for today,” she said in his ear. “We came here to escape reality, not wallow in it.”

  He groaned as she worked on a stiff muscle. “I thought you came to go bare-assed with strangers.”

  “I can do that tomorrow.”

  “You should do it this afternoon.”

  “Really?”

  “For these prices, you might as well take advantage of the pool, the spas, the nudity and whatever else there is.”

  “Swimming in the buff does sound freeing.”

  “Go for it.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “No. I like seeing you happy. Not to mention wet and naked.”

  She curled her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his shoulder. “Being with you makes me happy.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  COLE FILLED THE outdoor tub for Mia.

  She stripped off her clothes and climbed inside while he used the hand pump. Warm water gushed over her naked body, again and again. It hit her stomach and bare breasts, pooling between her pale thighs. He’d like to watch her lie back and spread those pretty legs, gasping and trembling as the rush of water stimulated her clit. The intermittent splashes might not get her off, but he’d enjoy the display.

  Instead of voicing this request, he shelved it and filled up the tub. There were a lot of things he imagined doing that he’d never get a chance to do. Last night, he’d tied her up and toyed with her. Today, he wanted something else. Something softer and more intimate. Like his face buried in her pussy.

  When the tub was full, he removed his clothes and settled in behind her. It was large enough to accommodate them both. The water sloshed over the sides as he submerged all the way to the middle of his chest. He brought her naked bottom onto his lap. She rested her wet head on his shoulder with a contented sigh.

  He wasn’t into yoga or meditation or green tea or whatever the hell spa people were into, but this tub was nice. The desert view was awesome. They faced tall mountains and a long stretch of barren earth that gave the impression of peace and serenity.

  Shit. He’d been here only an hour and he was already turning into a hippie. A clean hippie. If he stayed a week, he might end up sitting in on a drum circle, driving a hybrid car and growing out dreadlocks. The weird thing was that he didn’t feel a twinge of horror at the thought. He was so hung up on Mia, and desperate to have any kind of future with her, that he was willing to become a hippie. It couldn’t be that much different from being an outlaw. Hippies were anti-establishment, right? They probably ate a lot of pussy, too.

  She’d said she loved him. He still couldn’t process that. He refused to analyze the moment or even think about it. He’d save it for later, like a cherished memento to comfort him when he had nothing else left.

  He wanted to believe her. He believed everything else she’d said. Although she wasn’t a good liar, and her facial expressions were easy to read, he couldn’t afford to trust her completely. She’d bugged him and plotted against him. He’d been betrayed too often.

  But he was tired of keeping his guard up. Tired of being paranoid, like his uncle. Tired of suspecting everyone of waiting for the perfect opportunity to stab him in the back. So he just let it go. He let it all go. His fears about the future and his questions about the past. His concerns about Mia’s divided loyalties. His guilt about his own.

  She’d brought a little jar of organic shampoo from the bathroom, so he washed his hair of the road dust and helmet sweat. Then he washed hers, massaging the bubbles into her scalp. He liked doing it for her. He liked her silky-dark hair and the shape of her head. After she ducked under the surface to rinse, he noticed that her roots were showing. Just a tiny sliver of red. For some reason, the sight made his throat tighten up. He was so close to her, he could see every detail. Every freckle on her slender shoulders, the delicate tips of her ears.

  She shifted on his lap, and his penis stirred against her buttocks. Instead of roots and freckles, he studied her pale pink nipples, coy beneath the surface of the water. His hands rose, as if of their own volition, to cup her breasts. She reclined against him, arching her spine as his thumbs brushed her nipples. His cock swelled to full mast, nudging her bottom. He smoothed his palm down her belly and she parted her sleek thighs. Kissing her neck, he dipped one finger inside her. She felt snug and hot.

  He could sit her onto his cock and put her to work. Or he could stand up and bend her over the side of the tub. He didn’t do either. He just rubbed her clit in slow circles and stroked her perky nipples, languid. When she squirmed for more, he checked her pussy again. She was slick inside, but the water might wash away her natural moisture and make sex uncomfortable. He grasped her around the ribcage and lifted her off his lap. Although he’d planned to put her on the side of the tub and go to town, he got distracted by the sight of her wet ass, temptingly close to his face. She was a slim woman, medium curvy, with a small waist and beautiful skin. Her figure was a work of art. It was...divine. Goddess-like, as if she’d stepped off the canvas of some classic painting.

  He skimmed his hands along her hips. There were two dark spots above her buttocks, where he’d pressed his thumbs last night. “I bruised you.”

  She looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see the marks. “I’m not surprised.”

  Until now, he thought he’d been careful. He’d used lighter strikes with the belt than his own hand. She’d been fantastically wet, and made breathless little sounds while he fucked her. He hadn’t meant to leave bruises.

  “I was too rough.”

  “I liked it.”

  He moved his fingertips to her lower back and pressed, urging her to lean forward. She bent at the waist and rested her hands on the opposite end of the tub. Her pussy peeked out between her thighs, plump lips begging for his mouth.

  “Did I bruise you anywhere else?” he asked, spreading her buttocks.

  She sucked in a ragged breath. “I don’t know.”

  “If you’re sor
e, I can kiss it better.”

  “Yes,” she said, tilting her hips in erotic invitation.

  He slipped his tongue inside her as if she was warm champagne. Not that he’d ever had champagne, but she tasted like minerals from the water. He plumbed her sweet depths, seeking the slippery essence that was all hers. She moaned and widened her stance, giving him greater access. He flicked his tongue over her ass, enjoying the little twitch of surprise she made. After he gave her ass a thorough licking, he slid two fingers into her pussy.

  Now she was ready. Dripping with arousal.

  “Sit here,” he said, patting the side of the tub.

  She followed his instruction. Without being asked to, she braced her palms on the wet concrete and spread her thighs. He rinsed his mouth with bath water, spitting it over the side. Although he didn’t mind her taste, he thought she might object to making out with him after he’d had his tongue in her ass.

  She smiled at his actions as if she found him amusing. He rose to join her, water streaming from his body. When she saw his hard cock, she stopped smiling and bit down on her lower lip. A little crease of want formed between her brows, and he loved it. He loved giving her what she wanted, filling her tight pussy.

  “See something you like?” he asked.

  She curled her hand around his shaft, making a moue of pleasure. “This cock.”

  He groaned, loving that word on her lips. He liked the object on her lips, too. She stroked him up and down with her slippery fist. Her hand was pale and smooth on his flushed skin, her fingers slim. The contrast between his crude flesh and her elegant hand drove him crazy. He felt huge and hot, his balls aching.

  He didn’t want to come yet, and he was very close. He peeled her hand away from his throbbing shaft and kissed her lips. His cock nudged her opening, and she whimpered. Although he was tempted to sink into her luscious heat, he restrained himself. He explored her silky mouth instead, sliding his fingertips along her spine. She curled her tongue around his and twined her arms around his neck.

  “Fuck me,” she said, breaking the kiss.

  The tub was the right height for fucking, but he wouldn’t last inside her. He wanted to draw out their encounter, to lick her until she came all over his mouth, pleasure rippling through her in liquid spools. So he lowered himself to his knees in the tub, parting her thighs wide. She was even prettier from the front, her lips bare beneath a graceful strip of red hair. Inside, she was pink and glistening like a desert flower in the afternoon rain. He pictured her last night with her nipples pinned, and he wondered if her pussy could withstand the same treatment. His cock hardened to a painful degree.