Ignition

by Skye Callahan

  Instead, I closed my eyes, sinking into my happy place—blissful ignorance—I didn’t want to know where we were going. At least that gave me an out later.

  If anyone would believe me.

  Colt and Buck were silent up front so I wouldn’t have learned much from their conversation even if I hadn’t zoned out. Buck punched the radio and suddenly the car buzzed and thudded alive with the deep throb of music that reminded me of being back at the club.

  Then, the buzz moved between my legs, growing in intensity until I had to shift. I adjusted, twisted, pulled to loosen my pants as I realized the buzzing had nothing to do with the music, but whatever Colt had planted in my underwear.

  Another damn vibrator. I should have guessed. In my alarm, I accidentally kicked the back of his seat, and he chuckled, ducking his head to watch me in the passenger mirror while Buck adjusted the rearview mirror to look back at me. I pushed their attention to the farthest part of my mind, slumping down and focusing gaze on the passing scenery.

  What seemed like an hour later—thanks to the torture—the car came to a stop on a dark back road in a sparse residential area. Buck turned down the radio and without a word, Colt climbed out of the car.

  “I’ll keep eyes out,” Buck said. “I don’t know what the hell you’re planning with the girl but—”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Don’t worry about it. I wondered if that was his motto, or just his way of shutting other people out so he didn’t have to deal with an entire conversation. My door opened and Colt dragged me out by my arm.

  “Just do your job,” he said to Buck before adjusting his black duffel over his shoulder, closing my door and pulling me into the shadows.

  Was this really better than the club?

  At least the vibrations had stopped and my body felt mostly numb to the pinching—until I had to power walk just to keep up with Colt’s long strides.

  “Where—” I snapped my mouth closed and he pressed his fingers to my lips, giving me a sideways glare that I didn’t dare question.

  The cold evening was nearly dead silent except for the dull crunch of loose pavement under our feet. Colt pulled on a pair of black leather gloves as we approached the side door of a small garage.

  My eyes darted around the darkness, expecting someone to jump out at us at any moment. I waited for spotlights, police sirens, an alarm of some kind.

  Breaking and entering.

  Theft.

  What the hell were we getting into? The not knowing was as bad as the potential consequences.

  Just outside of the narrow garage door, Colt dropped to his knee and pulled something out of his bag. He fiddled with some electronic device for a moment, and then unrolled his lock picks and the lock sprang in seconds.

  “You brought me on a break in?” I whispered as he yanked me inside and closed the door behind us.

  The room was pitch black so I couldn’t even see Colt standing right in front of me. The panic of the situation exacerbated by my own inability to control my body had me doubled over. My chest ached, the pain spreading and making it harder to get any air.

  I had never been perfect, and I’d done my share of acting out which included sneaking out with my best friend and breaking into his step-dad’s garage in the middle of the night. We hadn’t been informed of the alarm until the police showed up and busted us for underage drinking and breaking and entering. My friend’s step-dad didn’t let us off easy but we were stupid teenagers and none of that really deterred us.

  We were invincible then, and in our minds, smarter than all of the adults in town.

  But this wasn’t a petty juvenile crime by two teenagers reeling over recently absent fathers who’d both been called to active duty at the same time. This was the real deal. No slaps on the wrists, sit-downs with our parents, or recommended counseling. We were talking prison.

  “Breathe, Aubrey,” Colt said—I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be gentle or simply quiet.

  He flicked on a small penlight and pointed it at me. “Now would be a very inconvenient time for a panic attack.”

  I ruled out gentle.

  “You brought me on a break in,” I repeated, my voice shaking with a growl of emotions.

  “You never told me how you learned to pick locks. And this isn’t just a break in.” He directed the light to the car in the center of the room.

  I had no idea what kind it was—aside from being old, but with its glossy black paint and spotless chrome finishes, it didn’t look its age. It was huge by modern comparison with whitewall tires peeking out from under the sweeping fenders. The curved bumper and squinty windshield made it look like something out of an old cartoon—the cranky old grandfather with little spectacles and a mischievous smile on his face. Whoever owned it probably poured more money into its upkeep and maintenance than the thing had cost brand new.

  “We’re boosting a car.” Even in the dark, Colt’s gleeful smile was evident in his tone.

  I slapped my hand over my mouth and bent forward again, propping my other hand against my knee to keep myself mostly upright. “We really should have discussed more terms of this agreement. You could have mentioned you’re a car thief.”

  He hoisted me up by my hair and shoved me toward the car. “Guess what. Now you are, too.”

  I stumbled and landed with my palms against the hood. The long skinny hood came up high to my midsection, and was nestled between the protruding wheel wells which helped keep me off balance, prohibiting me from getting my feet under myself to straighten.

  With a hand to the small of my back, he kept me pinned there while pulling my hair—and head backward. “You really expected me to be an upstanding citizen who agreed to pay two hundred grand for the pleasure of your company for six months?”

  “No.” The vibrations started again and I squeaked, biting my lip. My core tightened, attempting to pull my body into a protective ball, but Colt’s grasp was unrelenting.

  He let go of my hair and slid his hand up the front of my shirt—I realized he’d taken off the leather gloves. Apparently he wasn’t too worried about either of us getting busted. The swell of sensations made it hard to stand and I pressed my weight into the car.

  “Here?” I whispered.

  Pulling my hips back against his growing hardness, he shoved up my shirt and explored my skin with rough fingers, pinching and squeezing flesh and muscle. He leaned over me, pressing his hard chest to my back and holding me against him. The heat from his breath warmed my neck for an instant before leaving it icy cold again.

  Between the adrenaline, his close contact, and the buzzing between my legs, my body didn’t know how to respond. My brain felt almost as fuzzy as it had the night before—except this time I was certain I’d remember every detail.

  “Colt,” I pleaded again, but it only caused his touch to roughen.

  You’ll still hate me. Fight me. Fight every sensation. But I’ll win. And in the end, you’ll beg for it.

  “Stop,” I couldn’t let him be right about everything, but my fight fuelled his desire, spurring him on and hardening his erection.

  And it made me wetter.

  I really did hate him for it. Point one for him.

  He growled and suddenly backed away, leaving me cold and off balance.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, glancing around. With a motion quicker than I could fully register, he pulled a flat bar out of his duffle and slid it against the glass of the passenger door, popping it open quicker than an average person could unlock it with a key. “Lay down in the back.”

  I didn’t dare argue. Considering his tone, I was terrified to do otherwise.

  He flipped off the penlight and disappeared, leaving the car door slightly open. Then, the room went black again, the only things I could hear were muffled footsteps and the sound of my heart. Minute after minute passed and I struggled to hear anything.

  What if something happened?

  What if he just left me here?

  Som
ething cracked and the overhead lights came on in the garage. Holy fucking—I didn’t know enough curse words to thoroughly compensate for the situation. As quietly as I could, I slid down the seat and flattened myself against the floorboards.

  “What do you want, Tank?” Colt asked. His voice was tense, but not overbearing. More like an old, annoying family member had shown up for an unannounced dinner.

  “Devlin wants insurance.”

  I dug my fingers into the rough carpet until I felt something snap and a shot of pain radiated up my middle finger. I bit my lips together and rolled to my back cradling my hand, and inspecting what remained of my natural nail. The offending acrylic jutted out of the carpet next to me, a taunting warning that the rest of its friends could do the same.

  I blocked out the stinging pain and concentrated on the much larger threat outside the car.

  “I’m a little busy here.” Colt’s voice wasn’t as smooth this time. “What the hell kind of insurance does he want?”

  No answer. Soft soled shoes scuffled against the concrete floor and flickers of shadows reflected in the windows of the car, but I couldn’t tell exactly what was going on.

  “How the hell did you find me here?” Colt finally spoke again.

  Paper rustled then crunched as if it was snatched away.

  “The baloney search on my apartment,” Colt said, and another tense silence followed. “Now, do you mind making yourself invisible so I can finish this job without getting caught—that is the only way Devlin’s getting shit from me, you know.”

  The other man grunted and with a few quiet steps, the lights flicked off and the side door opened and closed again. I dropped my head against the floorboard as all of the excess tension poured out of my muscles at once.

  I might be immune to adrenaline by the time this is all over.

  The infernal buzzing began again and my leg twitched. Then, it switched off just as quickly as scraping footsteps neared the car, and then the driver’s door creaked open. He leaned over the steering wheel and seconds later, the car purred to life.

  The driver’s seat flipped away from me, and Colt grabbed my arm, hauling me out of the back of the car.

  “What’d he want?” I asked.

  He fidgeted with his collar and kept his gaze on the car—not me, for once. “To rile me.”

  I opened my mouth, but only guttural noises came out. Whatever it was, it was hard to tell if it worked or not, but there was something different—a tiredness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Possibly the effects of a long day, but the off-kilter detail niggled at me.

  He righted the seat and shoved me into it. “You’re driving.”

  “What—” Before I could say a second word, the door was closing on me and I had no choice but to tuck in my arms and legs before they were taken off in the process. Colt braced himself against the outside of the car, pausing a moment before stumbling around the front and collapsing into the passenger seat.

  “You don’t look so good,” I said slowly—knowing that his reaction would be anything but good.

  “Drive,” he growled.

  “Garage door, lights,”—I waved my hand at the dash—“I know nothing about this car.”

  He jabbed something on the visor above my head and the garage door groaned and squealed open behind us. “There’s a knob on the left. Pull it.”

  I did as he said, more fearful that Tank might be somewhere outside waiting for us than the eventual repercussions of my actions. He shifted, bumping into my arm as he pulled a gun from his coat and released the chamber.

  My body straightened, muscles hard as concrete as I held on to the steering wheel.

  “Not for you, darlin’. Unless you get a stupid idea to go anywhere except back to the warehouse.” He dropped the gun against his leg and laid his head back. His forehead was pinched as if in pain, but his chest rose and fell at a steady slow pace.

  “You need a doctor.”

  “Warehouse. We’ll pick up my car, go home, and I’ll be fine in a couple of hours.”

  Tank had undoubtedly given him something—what, I had no idea. Nor did I understand how it acted as any kind of insurance. As always, I was in over my head, and answers were far too much to hope for. So I took a deep breath and backed the car out of the driveway, glad we were in the middle of nowhere while I adjusted to the stubborn steering and brake pedal that felt like there was a brick planted under it. Then, I turned right and drove back the way we’d come with Buck. My gaze concentrated on the mirrors as much as the road. Waiting for someone. Waiting to see a cop.

  If Devlin already knew where we were and what we were doing, we were one phone call away from being arrested. And I certainly wasn’t a hapless, clueless, bystander anymore.

  Colt was silent, but far from still. Every few seconds he clenched and unclenched his fists, ran his hands over his face or through his hair, sat up, slumped down, and generally squirmed like a five-year-old trying to stay awake on his first ride to an amusement park.

  “What the hell did he give you?” I asked.

  “Turn left,” he grumbled as if I had just woken him from a nap.

  Why did I even bother looking for answers?

  I felt like a ninety-year-old lady driving through town. Slow around every corner, braking early for every light, and leaving extra distance between myself and anything else. It was almost like driving a school bus—except with the added pressure of waiting for a policeman to pop out around every turn. As we cleared the central part of the city, and the streets opened up to the industrial district, we passed a cop waiting at a gas station.

  My heart jumped into my throat and heat crept down my arms and through my chest, clenching it in pain as I watched the rearview mirror.

  No lights. Still no movement.

  Colt’s hand came over mine and inched the steering wheel left. “On the road. Unless you want him coming after us.”

  “Can you please leave me at home next time?”

  “What if I need a spare driver?” He chuckled and settled back again. “We’re going past the door I used. When you see one open pull in.”

  The tires chomped at the old pavement until I finally reached the open garage door at the edge of the building. I guided the car to a stop inside and dropped my head to the steering wheel while Colt reached over and killed the engine.

  “Well, you didn’t get us shot, ticketed, or arrested,” Colt said dryly, repacking his duffel bag and tossing it over his shoulder as we climbed out of the car.

  “Does that mean I get the rest of the night off?”

  He smirked and slid his hand into his pocket. I pressed my legs together knowing what was coming—as if it would prevent the intrusion. In fact, it made it more intense. I doubled over, grabbing my knees while he walked calmly toward the open garage door. My mind had been so focused on the drive and not getting arrested that until we got back to the warehouse, I’d forgotten about the tumultuous sensations he could arouse.

  “You coming, Sway?”

  My jaw pulsed, but it was nothing compared to the twitching and tightening my core was doing. At this rate, I’d never have to worry about doing a crunch again. “Don’t call me that.”

  The vibrations eased away, not fading completely, but to a tolerable buzz that allowed me to straighten and get the fuck out of the damn warehouse. “That’s it? We’re just leaving it?”

  “I just pick up and deliver, but yes, I had the codes so tonight was simpler than most—aside from a certain visitor.” Colt slammed the door closed behind us, and we followed the exterior wall until we came back to the bay we’d left his car in.

  I’d gone from stripping to stealing a car—a car that was probably worth near as much as I owed Devlin. No wonder Colt had barely blinked an eye about paying his brother off. “Who do you work for?”

  “None of your business.” His voice was thick, but his words were clear. He had improved since the encounter with Tank, but he still wobbled on his feet—no worse than me i
n heels, but he looked weak as he opened up the trunk of his car and dropped the bag inside.

  I took another step, figuring he was pretty much incapacitated, but I figured wrong. One step was all it took for him to snatch me into his grasp again like an unsuspecting insect taking a stroll on a carnivorous plant. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling my back to his front and he pressed his other hand between my legs. I moaned without thinking, apparently still riled up by the whole ordeal and the vibrations that had yet to cease. Once again, like there had been no interruption, every nerve and skin cell burned to life as if they’d absorbed some kind of energy I’d never encountered before. Even the brush of his breath on my neck sent waves of sensation down to the bottom of my stomach.

  “Hungry?” he asked, throwing me off balance even farther with the unexpected question.

  I nodded. The Chinese food hadn’t stuck with me, and I had been starving by the time we got to the club.

  “And speechless.... That’s interesting.” His teeth grazed my neck and my body reacted, pressing into his before I could stop it.

  Then, as quickly as he’d snatched me up, he left me standing there in the cold void created by his absence. He waved me toward the passenger door, but I refused to move.

  “You’re not driving,” I said. This was one time I certainly wouldn’t back down.

  “I’m fine now,” he shrugged me off but staggered backward.

  “Then walk a straight line.”

  “I’ll still be a less conspicuous driver than you.” He leaned toward me again. “Unless you want to occupy me until it wears off.”

  I shook my head. “What’d he give you?”

  His eyelids fell and he took a long, slow breath. “Heroin.”

  “You are not driving.” I grabbed his keys and moved away from him before he could grab me. “Why? What was the point? And why’d you take it?”

  “One question at a time, Sway.” Even through his strong front, every word, every motion—even simply standing—strained him of what little energy he had left. “He just wanted to fuck with my night like I fucked with his. My guess is that he would have preferred that I screwed up the job to prove how far he could reach and what he’d be willing to do to screw me. I took it because it was the best option at the time. It was a low dose. I’m fine.”