Ruthless

by Gillian Archer

  Ugh! I couldn’t make up my mind. To be honest, I did feel like I owed him. I’d jumped to a conclusion that was starting to look like maybe it hadn’t been right.

  I grabbed my gym bag out of my locker and changed into yoga pants and a matching T-shirt, then stowed my uniform in the gym bag. I didn’t want to appear on anyone’s radar as an employee, plus I was hoping my gym clothes would act like armor. They didn’t exactly spell sexy. If only they were sweaty, too—then they’d remind me to keep my distance. Too bad I’d been lazy this afternoon and skipped yoga.

  I shut my locker, then made my way through the hallway and out onto the casino floor. I waved a goodbye to Seleste, who was four guests deep at the front desk and didn’t notice. The chimes and lyrical bells of the slot machines didn’t beckon me—this town wasn’t built on winners regardless of the people cheering in delight. Besides, I was a woman on a mission.

  After an endless trek and a long elevator ride, I stood in front of Zag’s hotel door. I lifted my hand to knock, but then hesitated. Did I really want to do this? Screw it. I needed answers.

  So I knocked.

  And didn’t have to wait long. About three seconds later, the door opened and Zag pulled me through. The door closed behind me, and before I had a chance to look around or think of something to say, Zag took me into his arms and my lips with his. My gym bag fell to the ground when I wrapped my arms around him. Suddenly everything else disappeared: the drugs, the drama, all of it. It was just me and him and that amazing thing he did with his tongue.

  But way too soon he pulled away and I moaned softly at the loss.

  Until I remembered why I was there.

  “Right.” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “So you wanted to talk?”

  Zag laughed. “Yeah, come on. I’ve got a separate sitting area over here.”

  I followed docilely behind him and tried to get my jumbled brain cells back into some semblance of order. I had to keep it together—and not let that man anywhere near me. Instead, I looked around the suite. I’d never been inside one before and, from the looks of things, I doubted I’d ever be in another one again. Holy crap, this place was insane—class from the über-soft carpet to the gilded crown molding. Did he do this for me? The space was so beautiful it kind of made me feel guilty that I hadn’t listened to his side of things. And a tinge angry that he thought this would get my attention—mostly because it had.

  Just barely able to keep my jaw from hitting the floor, I ignored the blatant look he gave me from the sofa and walked over to sit in a chair facing him. “So you said Preacher has been kicked out of the gang?”

  Zag’s eyes hardened. “Club. We’re not a gang.”

  I immediately backpedaled. “Of course. Sorry. Club. I meant club.”

  “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, as it’s club business. But the way I figure it, you’re neck deep in some serious shit, so you deserve to know.”

  Serious shit? I couldn’t hide my flinch. Hearing Zag of all people say that made me more than a little bit scared.

  “Preacher’s out. We don’t put up with that kinda bullshit. We don’t deal and we sure as hell don’t hang out with the Truckee Saddletramps.”

  “Wait, so his worst offense was that he was with another gang—I mean club? How’s that worse than dealing?”

  “Tramps are our enemy.” Zag bit the words out, his forehead creased in a scowl. “There’s been bad blood between the clubs for years. They killed two of our brothers. We don’t forget shit like that.”

  I nodded. Definitely not forgivable, and I had the feeling these guys had long memories. “So that’s what has you worried? The Saddletramps will come after me?”

  “Those punk-ass Tramps are the least of your problems. It’s Preacher. You saw him in the parking lot. You gave a statement to the authorities. He’s hard-core and fucked up from all the drugs he’s on. He’s gonna want to make sure you don’t testify when this comes to trial.”

  I started to shake. “He wants to kill me?”

  Zag swore under his breath, then stood and pulled me into his arms. He sat on the couch again with me in his lap and his arms around me. “Not gonna happen, princess. I’m not gonna let that asshole within spitting distance of you. And also not what I meant. If I know Preacher—which granted he’s changed a fuck ton since back in the day—I think he’s gonna try and intimidate you into not testifying. Scare you.”

  I snuggled into Zag’s arms and was reassured by the thudding of his heartbeat under my cheek. “Well you can tell him job done. I’m pretty fucking scared already.”

  “So you’re not gonna testify?”

  “And let him win?” I sat up and looked at Zag in disbelief. “So he can be out there selling drugs again? Hell no.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  I couldn’t help but warm with his words as I snuggled back into his embrace. Somehow with his arms around me, nothing seemed insurmountable. I kicked myself for jumping to conclusions. This was the man I knew. The man who saved me in the parking lot. The man who made me scream in orgasm what felt like so long ago.

  So very long ago.

  “I—uh, guess I owe you an apology…for assuming you were a drug dealer, too.”

  “Ah, baby, you don’t owe me nothing. I get why you jumped to that conclusion. We’re—” He broke off as I slithered down his lap and knelt on the floor between his splayed legs. A huge grin spread across his face. “But if you’re feeling generous…”

  I reached up for his button fly and unsnapped it with a studied deliberateness. “Oh, I am. I’m feeling very generous.”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic.” Zag reached up and brushed a stray hair off my cheek.

  Just that simple gesture almost undid me. Or maybe it was the sweet warmth in his expression. How could I ever have doubted this lovely man? Wanting him to know just how sorry I was, I returned to my task with a renewed purpose. I peeled back his fly and dove through the opening in his boxers until my searching fingers found the prize I’d been looking for.

  I pulled his large, pulsing cock out of his jeans and wrapped my hand around his length. Immediately I felt an answering tingle between my legs. I swayed closer and ran my tongue around the head, lapping up that small amount of salty goodness.

  Zag groaned and buried his hands into my hair on either side of my head. But he just held my hair back for me. He didn’t try to control my motions.

  To reward him for that bit of self-control, I leaned forward and slowly took as much of his length as I could inside my mouth. Then I just as slowly pulled back. When I had only the tip in my mouth, I flicked my tongue lightly against that sensitive spot just below the head.

  Zag’s whole body jerked, and I had to move clear so I wouldn’t scrape his sensitive skin with my teeth. But before he could say anything or try to guide me, I dove back in. Holding his cock with my right hand just below the head, I wrapped my lips around the top and slowly slid down as far as I could, my lips chasing my fist. Then I backtracked, making sure to squeeze him with my hand the whole way.

  I set up a pace and continued to caress him with my hand and mouth. By the fourth stroke, Zag groaned and dug his hand deeper into my hair. By the tenth, he started to move his hips toward me, silently urging me on with his body. After that I lost count. I just kept going.

  A few minutes later, he growled at me. “Ah, princess, you gotta let up. I’m gonna—”

  But I didn’t stop. I held on tighter and quickened my pace. Three strokes later, Zag shouted and arched off the couch and into my mouth. I swallowed as he came.

  He sagged into the couch with a groan and I pulled away, resting my head on his lap. My breathing shuddered and I worked my sore jaw. Honestly, I thought I would’ve felt less guilty now. But I didn’t. Instead I felt horny and guilty. Apparently blow jobs didn’t help one atone. It didn’t help that I had an ache between my thighs that wouldn’t let up. But then blow jobs always got me worked up. Seemed counterproductive to me.

  “Mmmm,
baby, come here.” Zag reached down and grabbed me under my arms and pulled me up onto his lap. “I think it’s time to do you.”

  I made a face. “But I’m all gross from work and wearing my gym clothes.”

  “Like I give a fuck.”

  I rolled my eyes. He was such a guy. “Well, I do.”

  “Fine. I got a solution to this problem, too.” Zag stood with me in his arms and kicked his jeans off, then hoisted me over his shoulder and into a fireman’s carry. “We’ll just go clean up. I can use a shower myself.”

  “Zag!” I squealed as he jostled me, making his way into the bathroom.

  He shut the door behind us and let me slowly slide down his body. “What?”

  I just had to laugh. Like I had any chance of not getting naked with this man—I didn’t have that much willpower. “Fine.”

  “I knew you’d see it my way. Now strip.”

  I mock saluted him, then grabbed the bottom of my shirt and leisurely pulled it up my body and over my head. My breasts bounced slightly when they came clear of the shirt.

  Zag swore under his breath.

  Smiling smugly, I reached behind me and unclasped my bra, but I didn’t let it fall. Instead I clutched it close to me and tilted my chin at him in a clear challenge. “Come on. This isn’t a peep show. Tit for tat.”

  Zag grinned. “I’ll show you my tats if you show me your tits.”

  “Oh my god.” I laughed. “We’re not five, playing doctor here.”

  “Hey, you started it.”

  “But I’m showing more skin than you, so I think you should pay up first.”

  “Fine.” Zag whipped his shirt off and I heard a faint ripping sound. “Your turn, princess.”

  It’d been a few weeks since I’d seen the magnificence of Zag’s nude chest—his tattoos, his scars, and the faint brown hair dusting his pecs and down the middle of his abs before continuing in a trail that disappeared into his boxers—the man was a work of art. I was pretty sure I had drool on my chin at the sight.

  “Gawk while you strip.”

  Torn out of my worshipful stare by his smart-ass direction, I flushed and let my bra slide down my arms and to the floor. Now I only had my yoga pants on to protect me from his heated stare.

  And staring he was. The second my bra dropped to the floor, his eyes turned a deep gold color like he was lit from within by his naughty thoughts. Zag wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. But then he hesitated.

  “Now who’s showing more skin?” Zag’s eyes darted from my yoga pants to his boxers and he cocked a brow. “I think you should pay up now.”

  It was just like that arrogant bastard to throw my own words back at me. I had to laugh. He was so cute when he was being all cocky. I tossed him my own confident smile, then slowly peeled my yoga pants down my legs until they pooled at my feet.

  If it were possible, his eyes grew even more golden. The shit-eating grin fell from his face and he stared at me with an intensity that made my heart pound. All the teasing, lighthearted fun fled as he stalked toward me.

  “Zag, I told you: Shower first, then we can—”

  He stopped within a hair’s breadth of my body, his lips hovering over mine. “Shut up, princess.”

  Then he took my lips in a crushing, soul-searing kiss that stole my breath and every thought from my head. I could only feel. His lips on mine. His tongue teasing and dancing with mine. The deep throbbing and aching emptiness between my thighs. He was so potent that even parts of me that weren’t touching him sang with electricity.

  But then all too soon he stepped back. “Sometimes you’re too fucking sexy for words.”

  While I was left gasping for breath and searching for a coherent thought, Zag turned and opened the shower door on the huge cubicle, then stepped inside. A beat later, his boxers came sailing out and landed on the other side of the bathroom. The sound of the shower turning on echoed through the once quiet room.

  I took another breath. Why was this man so potent? Even now—ten feet away—I could still feel his magnetic pull. And if the pulsing between my thighs was any indication, I’d need to feel a hell of a lot more of him than that.

  “You joining me, princess?” Zag’s voice reverberated in the bathroom.

  Time to put up or shut up. I shucked my panties off and kicked them into the corner with Zag’s boxers, then walked toward the open shower door. My eyes bugged out at the sight before me.

  Zag full frontal underneath the rainfall showerhead.

  It was almost like something out of my fantasy. His head tipped back with his eyes closed as the water cascaded over his naked body. And what a body it was. Tattoos curved around his arms, ribcage, and pecs, a few marred by scars—what looked like faint scrapes from maybe road rash, and several straight lines of raised scar tissue. One of which ran down the right side of his body and looked more like a surgical scar, judging by the circular scars parallel to it.

  And I couldn’t deny it any longer. I might’ve been kidding myself earlier about just who Zag was. Sure, he might not be into drugs, but he clearly led a very dangerous lifestyle. A lifestyle that I was about to potentially tie myself to.

  Zag wiped water off his face, then gave me a devastating and rare smile. “Are you getting in or what?”

  My heart melted. And I had my answer. “Yes.”

  I stepped into the shower and tried to leave all the doubts and worry behind me as I closed the door.

  But when I turned back to face Zag, the doubts lingered. He must’ve seen something in my face because the teasing sexiness left his, to be replaced by seriousness.

  He cocked his head. “We good?”

  I took a shuddering breath. I knew deep inside that Zag wouldn’t want to play games—he wouldn’t have the time or patience for any of the mind games my last boyfriend had been so damn good at. I had to be either one hundred percent in or one hundred percent out.

  I bit my lip. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I doubted you. Sorry that I didn’t at least give you a chance to tell me what was going on.”

  “I get it. You didn’t know anything about me or the club. But never doubt this: I don’t screw around with drugs. Ever.”

  The emphasis he used made me think there was an underlying issue there. His face was so unyielding that I had no doubt he was serious. But there was something more. Something he wasn’t telling me.

  I nodded, then opened my mouth to ask him about it when he spoke.

  “Until we get a handle on Preacher, I don’t want you going anywhere on your own.”

  “Wait, what? I have a curfew now? I can’t leave my house without your permission?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I need to know where you are at all times. And that might mean me or someone I appoint will be physically with you.”

  “But the police. I mean, he’s in custody and has charges against him. There’s no reason for you guys to—”

  “It’s club business. That’s all you need to know. I’m not telling you not to testify. That’s your business. I’m telling you what you need to do to stay safe.”

  Despite the steam billowing around us, I shivered. “What do you think he’s going to do?”

  Zag grabbed my arm and pulled me into his chest. “Nothing. I won’t let him.”

  Looking in his eyes, I melted a little at the intense heat I saw there. I put my head down on his chest and wrapped my arms around him. The thudding of his heart under my cheek and his arms around me relaxed me. I felt so safe and secure. How could I ever have doubted this man?

  “We’ll figure it out, princess. I just need you to trust me.” He kissed the top of my head, then pulled back until he was holding me at arm’s length. “But first we have to do something about those breasts.”

  I blinked, then looked down. “What’s wrong with my breasts?”

  Zag leaned over and grabbed the bar of soap. “They’re dirty. I think it’ll take at least thirty minutes to get those suckers
clean.”

  All deep and serious thoughts were gone as laughter and steam filled the bathroom.

  Chapter 11

  JUNE 28

  “So you two are back together? Wait, were you ever officially together?” Emily stirred her iced Caramel Macchiato and gave me the side-eye with her baby blues.

  I groaned and buried my face in the intoxicating aroma of my extra-hot vanilla Blonde Roast in the hugest size possible. Anything to avoid Emily and her knowing look—although the mouthwatering scent had more than a little to do with it, too. Ever since that morning a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t let me forget that she’d seen me with Zag. Not that there was anything wrong with it, because now I was.

  With Zag.

  I lifted my cup and took a sip, then gave Emily the look back. “What do semantics matter? We’re together now.”

  “You know I’m just giving you shit. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

  Nicole lifted her coffee cup and gave me a smile. “I told you so.”

  I laughed. “And you waited a whole thirty seconds before rubbing it in. Thanks, Nic.”

  “No problem.” Nicole took a sip of her coffee. “So since you guys are all official, don’t you think it’s time you introduced him to your friends? Glimpses of him walking away don’t really count. Maybe over drinks at the Mineshaft?”

  “You want to meet him?”

  “Well, he’s an important man in your life now. You guys are going to be together for a while, right? I think we need to take a minute and kick the tires, so to speak.”

  I read between the lines of Nicole’s little speech. She was so transparent sometimes. “You mean you want me to introduce you to all his hot biker friends.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes and shrugged. “What? You can’t blame me. I told you that one time I saw him that the man’s hot. It stands to reason they’re harboring some serious talent in their gang.”

  “Club. If I’m going to introduce you guys to Zag and his friends, you can’t call it a gang. They’re really prickly about that.”

  “Sorry. Club. So when do we get to meet all the cute boys?”

  “Oh my god, Nic.” Emily wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Is that seriously all you think about?”