Ignition

by Skye Callahan

  The room behind me grew quiet again, and I hoped they’d run out of things to ransack and called it quits.

  I sat on the fire escape weighing my options for who knows how long before the window opened and I jumped, ready to bolt.

  “Coast is clear, darlin’, if you want to come back in.”

  “Colt?”

  He gave me a crooked grin—not the expression I’d expected from a man whose house had just been trashed by the police—unless he was used to it. “Who’d you expect?”

  “I don’t know, maybe the cops who were rampaging through your place.”

  He offered a hand and helped me through the window, snatching the lock picks from my grasp as soon as my feet touched solid floor.

  The bedroom was trashed with clothes and linens strewn all over the floor. The bed was flipped and torn apart, but Colt barely had a noticeable reaction to any of it. Instead, he stared for a long moment at the lock picks and then me before stuffing them back in the drawer where I’d found them. “I’m going to assume you don’t want to discuss your obvious lock-picking prowess.”

  I shook my head, but didn’t move from my spot in front of the window.

  Then, he gathered the clothing and dumped it into drawers without bothering to fold any of it. He also didn’t bother to explain the police visit or anything else really, so I pushed the conversation. “What was that about?”

  He glanced in my direction and shrugged, turning the brunt of his attention to straightening his bed instead.

  “The police trash your apartment and all you do is shrug?”

  “Could have been worse.”

  “Well, can I have clothes now? You know, in case someone else shows up?” I reached for one of the drawers to find something for myself, but he caught my arm and flipped me around until I was facing the side of the dresser. I planted my hands against the edge of the solid wood to keep my balance as his fingers dug into my hips pulling my ass backward against him.

  “You’re wearing far more than you were last night,” he grumbled into my ear, pressing himself against my back.

  I tried not to think about how good his warmth felt after sitting outside in the cold, but the panicked rush of chemicals to my brain quickly took care of that problem.

  I twisted my hips trying to throw him off, but his fingers dug into bone until I gasped.

  He moaned into my ear, his hot breath catching my hair and dancing around my exposed neck. “I like that sound.”

  I clenched my teeth, holding my place and refusing to move to keep from exciting him further. “Remind me again how you’re better than your brother.”

  “Better for you,” he said, “because at least I have a shorter attention span.”

  His hardness pressed against me and my stomach twisted. “You’re disgusting.”

  “More so than him?” He nipped my earlobe.

  I didn’t have an answer for that.

  “Have you slept with Devlin?”

  Bile rose in my throat and I wondered how much it mattered. In the beginning, I’d thought about it. Fantasized about the strong, rich man showering me in pleasure and every wanton desire. But it never happened. And once I saw his true side, I vowed it never would. “No.”

  Colt’s voice dropped to a primal level—rough and vibrating against the side of my head as he spoke. “Do you have any idea how close you were to having a very different answer to that question this morning?”

  His touch suddenly disappeared and he spun me around, catching me by my hair and holding me in place.

  I knew Devlin was capable of despicable things. I didn’t for a moment put it past him, but he’d never tried anything despite multiple opportunities, so I struggled to figure out what Colt had been talking about.

  Colt traced his index finger down the side of my face. His skin was rough and calloused, just like his personality.

  “How much do you remember about last night?” he asked, his voice less rough this time.

  “Dancing,” I said. I didn’t have a coherent stream of memory, but I could put most of the pits into a reasonable order. “Devlin sent me out to wait tables. I ran into you and brought you two scotches.”

  “When did things get fuzzy?”

  “Devlin gave me a water before I went on stage. I think that’s when it started, but I assumed it was stage fright.”

  “I think you assumed wrong, darlin’.” His face softened, but his grasp on my hair didn’t. If he pulled any harder, I’d have a bald spot for sure.

  “No shit.”

  “See...,” he leaned into me, still holding me in place. “That is where my brother and I differ.”

  “I’m not a hooker. I’m not—”

  “Not yet. How long have you been trying to get out from under him?”

  I tugged at the bottom edge of the shirt, tired of having my decency stripped away. “Too long.”

  He didn’t have to keep rubbing it in, I already knew I’d never escape.

  “And how long do you have to stay at the club—if you’re lucky?”

  “Two years,” I whispered. It had only been one night and I couldn’t imagine facing two years.

  His lips twisted like a hungry beast ready to feed. “You think you’ll survive?”

  It’s just dancing, I thought. I was still trying to convince myself. But Colt knew far more about Devlin than I could imagine in my worst nightmares. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “I’m giving you one.”

  “Even if I....” The words died in my chest choking me of oxygen.

  Colt caught me, holding me to his chest, as my knees shook and went weak. “Six months,” he whispered. “Then, you walk away free and clear.”

  The touch of his skin against mine ignited more bits of memories—or delusions. Sitting on his lap. His confident and intrusive touches. The building heat between my legs.

  It must’ve been the drugs.

  “I know too good to be true when I hear it,” I said. “And I don’t think I can do what you want.”

  “Of course you can. I’m not asking you to do anything except agree. I’ll take things from there.”

  I still wasn’t convinced. “Are you going to hurt me?”

  “Yes. But I won’t leave any permanent damage I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

  “Thought you didn’t like it when women enjoy it?”

  He released me and straightened the hair around my face. “I like it when they enjoy it on my terms.”

  That sounded remarkably like Devlin. “So, you’re a control freak?”

  His face twisted as if he was considering the question. “Not really. No, I don’t think so. I’m just particular in what turns me on.”

  “You want me to fight you, so what if I hurt you?”

  “It’s all fair in my game.” He shrugged, adjusting a lamp that had been knocked over. As casual as he acted, I wondered how many times he’d had similar conversations. How long he’d been planning something like this that it could seem so every day to him. “In fact, if you can manage it, I might enjoy it.”

  I wanted away from Devlin, that was for damn sure, but I wasn’t sure if this was a step up or a plummet into a deeper hell.

  Chapter 4

  She still wasn’t sure about me, and I liked it that way. I wanted her to know full well what I was asking before she agreed. And, most of all, I wanted to toy with her a little longer.

  I knew exactly how to make her sure—that was easy. All I had to do was push until she cracked then let my brother do the final convincing.

  I dragged a hand through my hair and left her sulking in peace while I ordered up Chinese from one of the only nearby places I trusted—remotely. I didn’t much trust anyone anymore.

  The bedroom remained silent so I picked up the trashed living room, then lay down on the couch, unconcerned with whatever she was or wasn’t doing.

  She wasn’t running—that part was certain.

  I picked up my phone and scrolled through the contacts, selecti
ng my brother’s name to send him a quick message.

  Thanks for the company asshat.

  Devlin: Don’t mess with my business.

  Yeah, I thought, just wait until you find out what’s in my bedroom. I was lucky that I got tipped off to their little charade—and lucky that I had a master lock-pick for a captive. The police were my brother’s damn farce of a warning. He knew I didn’t keep anything incriminating in the apartment, but sent them to muck up the place just to be a damn inconvenience. He probably didn’t even expect me to be in the area. He just wanted to shake me up and remind me who had the bigger connections.

  Fuck his connections.

  A tap on the door announced the arrival of food, so I opened the door and traded a wad of bills for the brown bag. Then, I sat the white boxes out on the coffee table and popped open the container of fried rice.

  “Get your ass out here and eat,” I yelled.

  The floor creaked as I sat back with my box of rice and Aubrey peeked through the doorway, still bundled in the blanket. “Can I steal some clothes?”

  “No. Get over here, and leave the blanket.” I shoveled a fork full of rice into my mouth. It was the first thing I’d eaten since before going to the club the night before, and as good as it was, I honestly wouldn’t have cared if it tasted like sand.

  “I want to go home.” She was much more demanding when the space of a room separated us. This false sense of security thing must have been a common problem for her.

  “So full of demands and questions,” I slammed the rice down on the table. I couldn’t even enjoy a simple lunch—maybe this was a terrible idea. Taking responsibility for another person who, worst of all, I’d then have to put up with on a daily basis.

  But then I looked at her standing there, vulnerable but with a determined look planted on her face. She’d survived Devlin for how long? Yet she still wasn’t completely broken. Desperate, maybe, but there was still fight and that’s what I wanted. My body was coiled and tight waiting for a full release I didn’t often find.

  “Sit down and eat, unless my brother is your final decision.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Fine.” I picked up my phone. “I’ll call Devlin and have him come pick you up.”

  “You want me to make this decision and I don’t even know what the hell is really going on.”

  She was already exhausting. I tugged at the back of my hair, resisting the urge to scare some sense into her. That would be too easy. “No. I want you to eat.”

  She reluctantly took the seat next to me, pulling down the hem of the T-shirt, but it wasn’t going to get any longer or cover more than a smidge of her ass and thighs. Before I could shove another bite of rice in my mouth, someone else knocked on the door.

  “Mother fucking—”

  Aubrey started to bolt and would have jumped over the back of the couch like a skittish puppy if I hadn’t grabbed her arm.

  “Sit,” I growled and she sunk back into the sofa, pulling her naked legs up under her. Damn. My mouth watered, but with her looking like that, food was irrelevant. I wanted to spread her over the back of the couch and answer all of her questions with my dick buried in her ass.

  Jace stood outside the door with a large brown sack as if he was carrying a load of contraband. He was my longtime friend—and came in handy more often than he found pleasurable since he had just worked his way through residency at a local hospital. His connection to me was a blessing and a curse. A lot had changed, but he tended to stick by me.

  And he’d taken a few more walks on my side of the tracks than he cared to admit—and made more visits to Devlin’s bar than that. More than me in a typical week, that much was certain.

  He handed me the bag and glanced passed me, leaning around the door to catch a glimpse of my latest reason for calling in a favor. “You owe me.”

  “Never ending,” I mumbled.

  Aubrey’s eyes widened and she dug her fingers into the arm of the couch when I pushed the door the open allowing Jace to step inside.

  “I guarantee he’s seen more, darlin’. Keep dancing and he definitely will.”

  Jace punched me in the arm, then pulled a case of pills from his pocket and a folded piece of paper. “I need your signature,” he said, handing her the paper.

  “What?” Her gaze darted back and forth between us. “Why?”

  “Patient release,” he said with a touch of impatience. This was one of those moments he was probably cursing answering the phone when he saw my name pop up.

  “Patient?” She balked and seemed to momentarily forget about her lack of clothing.

  “Birth control,” Jace said tapping the package.

  “I... don’t... what?”

  Jace ignored her babbling. “Take the first—”

  “I know how it works”—she snapped away the package and paper with shaky hands—“I haven’t agreed to anything.” She gave me a flat look as she tucked back into a protective ball on the edge of the couch and started to read.

  “Consider them a gift,” I said. “Regardless of your answer, you’ll need them.”

  I swear the color in her face faded at least three shades before she took Jace’s pen and scribbled her name. I probably shouldn’t have played that wild card so early, but it got one hurdle out of the way. I tossed the paper bag toward her and it landed on the next cushion, dumping over and spilling out the clothes inside.

  Her eyes widened like a kid who’d just been introduced to chocolate. “Clothes? I can put them on?”

  Reluctant to lose my current view, I shoved my hands in my pockets as I debated. It was more fun forcing her to sit around in my shirt, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could resist with her in this state, so I nodded. “Get dressed.”

  She grabbed the bag and sprinted toward the bedroom. Stubborn girl—that’s probably what got her into this mess in the first place.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Jace whispered.

  I grinned, already excited by the prospect, and my cock twitched in agreement. “Yes.”

  “You’re walking a fine line with this one. Liable to do something you regret—I know your predilections well, but is this about messing with Devlin or getting your rocks off?”

  “Both.” Jace did know me too well—sometimes that made our relationship more difficult on both ends.

  “Why her?”

  He had to ask the question I’d been struggling with, so for the time being I went with the easy answer. “It was opportune.”

  “Right,” he sighed. “Just keep it clean and don’t get her or yourself killed.”

  After he left, I locked the door behind him and joined Aubrey in the bedroom. The tight black jeans were a perfect fit—they were the only things that had worried me, since I’d gotten the size of the bra from her costume right before I’d thrown it out. I had considered returning the costume to Devlin, but that wouldn’t have been keeping with the spirit of this whole plan to piss him off. The dark red T-shirt hung loose, but the low cut neck showed off her chest perfectly.

  “The shoes suck,” she said.

  “Picky picky. I’m sure they’ll make your legs and ass damn good though.”

  She rolled her eyes and tossed the stilettos on the bed, even fully dressed, she was no more at ease with being in close proximity. She kept her eyes slightly averted —even though she put on the show of trying to make eye contact—her shoulders were slumped, and her disheveled hair fell around her face. I caught her before she could walk by me.

  “Thought you wanted me to eat,” she said, jerking at my grasp as her stomach rumbled, joining her in opposition.

  I was starving too, but I also had some fun in mind, so I tugged her closer. Before I had put her to bed I had taken a wash rag to her face to remove the makeup—I didn’t want to deal with getting it out of my sheets. On the other hand, her long, golden hair was still a mess—even more so since her stint on the fire escape—and she still reeked of the club, but on her, I found the combinati
on particularly enticing.

  “I thought you wanted to know more about the deal? What I want?” I pulled the button on her jeans open and slid my other hand into the top drawer of the side table.

  “I didn’t mean a demonstration,” she said, her voice high and slightly frantic as she pushed at my chest.

  “Come on, darlin’. You’re about to go back to work where you’ll have men’s hand all over you. One feel isn’t going to hurt—this time.” I trapped her calves against the bed and holding a small vibrator between my fingers, I slid my hand down her pants and pressed the inactive toy against her clit. Leaving it there as I pulled her pants tight and refastened them.

  “What are you doing?” she breathed.

  “Let’s eat.” I smacked her ass, causing her to jump forward on impact.

  She shook her head, but I pushed her toward the living room grabbing the remote from the same drawer as I passed. I wasn’t a huge fan of toys, but anything with a remote usually caught my attention. It was a sure-fire way to draw out the anguish and uncertainty.

  Aubrey kept her motions slow and deliberate, keeping a watch on me from the corner of her eye. She shifted a little when she sat down and picked up one of the containers. I waited for her to stab a piece of chicken with her fork and flipped the switch.

  “Fuck,” she yelled and struggled not to spill the food. She probably wouldn’t have bothered if she wasn’t starving—in fact, she might have dumped the whole container over my head, but she cradled it in her tight, protective grasp. She rose, but I grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back into her seat.

  “You get up, I take away the food.”

  “You,” she clenched her teeth against whatever else she was going to say. I traced the back of her neck and she shuddered. Then, she took a deep breath, visibly steeled herself and took a bite of chicken.

  We ate in relative silence—apparently she finally thought better than to play twenty questions. But I had my own thoughts to contend with as I saw her squirm every so often seeking relief. Her cheeks flushed with the rise of heat in her body, probably a delicious mix of embarrassment and desire.