by Aubrey Cara
Jet tosses down his cards. He’s out. It’s just me and the biker.
A ten of hearts is put down for the turn, and I’m trying not to show any kind of reaction as I turn over my six and eight.
The biker isn’t happy. I still hold my breath as he scratches his brow and strokes his beard. I’ve been out of the game of running cards for so long I almost miss the card exchange from his hand covering his cards before he smoothly turns them over.
A jack of spades and a king of clubs.
I feel like I’ve taken a direct hit to the stomach. He has a straight also, but his is higher than mine. And it wasn’t from luck of the draw.
“You cheated.” My mouth is shooting off accusations before my brain has been properly loaded. I grab the sleeve of his jacket and shake. “Where the hell is it? Where’s the card?” He yanks back his arm and I swear to all that’s holy I see a card. “I saw a card.” I turn to Tullson. “I swear I saw a card.”
“That’s a big accusation, little girl.” It’s the first time the biker has spoken all night. His voice is like gravel over steel.
“Stop being a sore loser,” Dom says. “You lost fair and square, dear.”
“I’m not being a sore loser,” I try to reason and stand up. I glare at Dom and point over at the biker. “He has a card up his fucking sleeve. Don’t you give a shit that he’s cheating you?”
“Rick,” Dom says coolly. “Please show Ms. Dawson to my office while we finish up here. We’ve yet to determine the winner.”
I can’t believe this crap. They’re dealing out cards and pointedly not looking at me, as if they’re all done acknowledging my existence. And they are, at least until it’s determined who will be purchasing me this oh-so-fine day.
No-Neck Rick comes over and pulls my chair back, but I’m having none of it. “Get your hands off me,” I snarl, tearing myself out of his hold.
If any of them think I’ll be sitting in Dom’s office, waiting meekly for the outcome of fate’s fickle decision, they have another think coming.
Rick pays me no mind and wraps his arms around my upper body, lifting until my feet kick off the floor. I struggle for all I’m worth as he picks me up with his arms clamped around my upper body, pinning my arms to my sides.
“I plan on spending good money on her. Try not to bruise my treat for later, Rick,” the bastard Tullson calls out after us. The pig can eat my—
“Actually, she’s coming with me.”
Hearing Hank’s words, I jerk my head around, and my heart stops dead in my chest before starting back up at a gallop.
Hank’s standing there, pointing a handgun at the table’s general direction. Striding over, he takes my wrist.
“Let her go.” Hank points the gun at Rick’s head. He still holds me in a tight grip until Dom nods his head. Rick lets go of me so quickly, I stumble forward, and Hank yanks me up and behind him.
“What the hell are you doing?” My question comes out in a shriek.
“We’re leaving,” he says calmly, like this is a lame party and he’s bored.
He doesn’t turn as we make our way to the door, but keeps his weapon drawn, pointed in the direction of the table. His body is blocking mine from view, but when I glance over his shoulder, I see all the men have a weapon drawn. My heart stutters as I squeeze up against Hank’s back.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, is all I can think as we go out the exit.
So much for a friendly game of poker between business owners. We’re almost completely out when Hank fires a shot. Dom yells, falling back in his seat. The doors shatter behind us. Hank pushes me in front of him, my ears ringing from gunfire. We’re sprinting across the parking lot as shots ring out.
“Are you insane?” I yell, but he doesn’t answer.
He tosses me onto the back of a motorcycle and slams a helmet on my head before he’s in front of me. The engine roars, and I have two-point-two seconds to clutch him before we’re tearing out of the parking lot.
I squeeze as tightly up against him as possible. I haven’t been on a motorcycle since I was a kid and crashed my brother’s dirt bike. This is a much different experience. The one we’re on is the kind grizzly men refer to as hogs. I’m not sure if I like it. My skirt is practically around my waist, and I can feel bugs pinging off my bare legs. No wonder bikers wear so much leather.
I’d make a lousy biker bitch because I may cry from how much I want off this thing.
We drive for what seems like hours. Ranches and fields we’ve passed have made way for woods. If we were followed, we’ve lost them. There hasn’t been another vehicle on the road with us for the last twenty minutes, at least. Hank has taken so many country roads, I have no idea where we are.
We turn onto a gravel road and Hank slows down, but doesn’t stop. The farther down the dirt road we go, the thicker the trees get, and the narrower the path is.
When we finally stop, we’re in front of a secluded trailer. Now, this is the kind of place where I’d expect a drug dealer to hide out.
My body is humming from the ride, and my legs and butt have gone numb. Hank has to help me dismount, and I still stumble a step before I find my balance.
He removes my helmet, and hangs it off the handlebar. “Head inside and warm up.”
Hank’s walks the bike around behind the trailer cool as can be, like this is something he’s done a million times. I’m shivering. Besides being exposed to the wind, I’m dropping from adrenaline.
Holy Hannah. We were shot at. Hank shot someone.
I never want to do this again. I’ve had as much excitement as I can handle. I thought I was done with this kind of crap when I exited my dad’s life.
On shaky legs, I make my way inside. It’s more like of one of those trailers at construction sites. It’s a single wide with thin blue carpet. There’s a couch in the center, a kitchenette to the left and a desk to the far right.
I snatch the blanket that’s folded up on the couch and wrap it around myself. My poor legs and arms have little red marks from where I was hit by bugs along our mad dash to freedom.
More than a few times my brother, dad, and I had to make a run for it, but never anything like that.
We were shot at!
Now that we’re not running, my mind is flooding with questions. Who the hell is Hank, and why the hell was he at that poker game tonight? And what’s more, why the hell did we exit at gunpoint?
Shit. Dylan.
If Dom’s pissed, he’s going to go for my brother. I have to warn him. I shrug off the blanket, and I’m yanking the door open right as Hank comes in.
“My brother. I have to call him. Dom--Dom is insane. I have to warn him.”
“Calm down.” He rubs my arms and steers me toward the couch. He picks up the blanket and puts it back on my shoulders.
Agitated, I knock his hands away. “You don’t understand. What the hell is wrong with you?” He’s insane if he thinks I’m going to be calm right now. “What were you thinking? Dom’s men are the ones who beat him up in the first place. He owes Dom money. I’ve been trying to fix it, but everything just keeps going so damn wrong.”
I’m choking on tears of frustration. I was so close to being free and clear. Then that damn biker cheated, and Hank.
Damn Hank.
“You just made everything so much worse. They’re going to kill my brother.”
16
HANK
They’re going to kill my brother.
I curse under my breath. What she’s saying has to be true. I’m sure there is more to the story, but damn. I pull out my cell phone, even though I know there’s limited signal out here. This is the safe house. Slater said it was off the grid, and hell if he wasn’t being honest. We’re out in the sticks.
I was supposed to provide a distraction this afternoon, hightail it out of there, and hope Dom, aka Maxwell Huntington, and his goons followed. Little did I know how big a distraction it was going be.
Jesus H.
I stop
ped by Candi’s house on the way out to the club. Her brother and his friend told me they’d fixed her Jeep. Then they shifted uncomfortably as they told me she wasn’t around, and they had no idea where she’d gone.
I knew they were full of shit but was still shocked as hell when I saw her Renegade in the parking lot of Sugar Daddy’s. When I spotted her sitting at the poker table, all spring and sunshine in the little feminine white top she’s wearing, her hair falling around her shoulders, I almost dragged her out, then and there.
She looked like she should be in a garden somewhere sipping sweet tea. Not a fucking strip club, sipping some kind of scotch and smoking a cigarette.
She says I made everything worse, but this could have all been prevented if she’d been honest with me from the fucking beginning.
I’m holding the phone up to my ear, but nothing. Damn it. I send out a text: There’s a complication. Get in touch.
So much for small favors. Slater bailed my ass out of a tight spot in Kosovo. Looks like he’s going to be bailing me out again. I’m supposed to stay holed up here until I get the all clear, but that’s no longer an option. I have to get hold of Slater and make sure Dylan is taken out of the area.
The plan was to send Dom scrambling in different directions so he doesn’t realize his operation is being taken down until it’s too late. Hell, I certainly sent them scrambling. When I spoke to Slater, he said they were close, damn close. I hope that still holds true.
Candi is a wreck, crying and babbling shit.
“Hey,” I say grabbing her arms and giving her a little shake. “I need you to keep it together. I have to go, but you’re going to stay here. There is food, and there should be some clothes in the back room.”
“Wait!” Her eyes going wide. “You’re leaving? You can’t leave.”
“There’s no signal out here. I have to get in touch with my contact and try to get to your brother before Dom does. Meanwhile, you’ll be safe here.” My mind is already racing to the next step as I open the door.
She latches onto my wrists. “I’m going with you.”
“Princess, this is not up for discussion. I should be painting your ass red for being at that strip club in the first place.”
“I had to be at that club.”
“That’s up for debate, one I don’t have time for.”
“Please, Hank, take me with you. That’s my brother. You can punish me however you like later, but don’t leave me here.”
She’s plastered her front up against me when she tells me I can punish her however I like. Jesus, I’m only a man, and after everything that happened this afternoon, I’m wound tight as a drum. I want nothing more right now than to push her up against the wall and drill my dick into her until we’re both cross-eyed.
I’m willing my hard on to die down, and I promise myself I will be doing so much more than just punishing her, later.
“I can’t stay here by myself. If you leave, I don’t care if I have to walk back to Gibson, I will. With or without you.”
I grit my teeth. “You are a pain in my ass, princess. You know that?”
Fuck. I know she would be better off staying here, but looking down into her big blue eyes, full of fear and determination, I can feel myself give in. “You will listen to everything I say. If I say jump, you jump. No hesitation. No argument.”
She nods her head, and I pull her face up. “Yes, Daddy?” I say.
“Yes, Daddy,” she grudgingly parrots, now doing the sexy little pout that makes me think of all the things I want to do with her mouth.
“I’m serious, Candice.”
“I know. I’ll be good. I promise.”
That hits me square in the groin, and I fight a groan. I wish she’d say that shit under entirely different circumstances. This is not the time, as much as my dick is wishing it were.
As we head out around back, she says, “We’re not getting back on the motorcycle are we?”
I take in her appearance. The part of her hair that wasn’t under the helmet is a snarly, tangled mess. Her once white shirt is dingy from road dust, and her arms and legs have red little nicks on them.
We rode hell for leather out here for over an hour. I can’t put her back on the bike dressed like that. Her delicate skin is chafed enough from the wind.
“Come on,” I say, heading back inside. I find the bag of clothes that was left for me. “Here.” I pull out jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “Put these on.” They’ll be much too big but at least she’ll be covered.
She doesn’t even take her clothes off, but just slips the jeans and shirt on over them. I find a belt and cinch it tight around her slim waist. Rather than rolling the pants, we cut off the legs. She’s folded the sleeves on the shirt, but one side keeps slipping down over her hand.
I feel a grin tugging up the corner of my lips, despite the circumstances. I’m still pissed as hell she’s put herself in this situation—and she will be telling me the story in full later—but I have to admit, she’s damn cute drowning in these clothes.
“Are you smiling?” she asks, incredulous.
I wipe the smirk off my face. “Just thinking about all the ways I’m going to tan your hide later on, princess.”
She huffs and rolls her eyes. “You would. Can we just go make sure my brother is all right?” Her voice catches on the last. I’ve got nine years’ worth of being in high risk situations, but no matter how she grew up, she’s not used to this shit.
“Hey,” I say, cupping her cheek. “I’m going to do all I can to make sure Dom doesn’t get to Dylan.” I don’t tell her that it may be too late. It’s been over an hour. If he was going to pick the kid up, there was nothing stopping him.
“My brother joined the Army. He’s supposed to leave in the morning.” Her voice wobbles. “We should be spending our last night together.” She sniffs back some tears.
“Well, hopefully, Dylan has gone out to celebrate or commiserate his leaving,” I say, trying to be optimistic. The harder it is to find him, the better. “Hey, didn’t you have a shift at the bar tonight?”
“Shit,” she says, looking miserable. “Yeah, I do, or I did.”
I sling an arm around her shoulder and kiss her forehead. “Let’s go, princess. We need to get close enough to civilization that I can get hold of my contact.”
“Your contact? ” She climbs on the back of the bike and twists her hair back before putting the helmet on. “You know, when all this is over, you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Likewise, princess,” I say over the roar of the engine. “Likewise.”
We’re at a diner thirty minutes out, off the side of the highway, where I finally get a signal. Her brother isn’t answering his phone, and neither is his friend Byron. This sends up a red flag in my mind, but I tell Candi they’re probably out getting shitty. Doing guy stuff.
She still worried, but at least I can assure her I reached Slater and apprised him of the situation.
Slater huffed. “Fucking hell, man. Are you and the girl at least at the safe house?”
“Negative. I couldn’t get a signal. We had to leave.”
“We?” He sighs from the other end. I’ve known Slater Ross for years, but I don’t really know, know the guy. He’s hard to read. Since an explosion messed up his vocal cords, his voice is always like steel and gravel. I can’t tell whether he’s pissed off or amused right now.
“Try to get back to the safe house. I know Marines are thick headed, but they call it a safe house for a reason. We’ll put an APB out on the brother, and for fucksake try not to get dead in the next twenty-four hours.”
After he cuts off, I call the bar to let tonight’s crew know they’ll be one short then pocket my phone and go back inside.
Candi is plowing through pancakes and eggs, while I eat a burger that’s surprisingly not bad.
“Are you going to finish your fries?” She motions hungrily at my plate with her fork.
“Have at it.” I push my plate toward her,
and she demolishes my fries before chugging down her entire glass of chocolate milk. This shit is impressive. I have no idea how this girl keeps her figure if she eats like this on the regular.
She catches me watching her, a rosy blush coming to her cheeks as she shrugs. “I stress eat,” she says around a mouthful.
It’s unexpectedly adorable. When something tastes especially good, her eyes roll back, and she groans just like she does when she’s getting close to orgasm. I’ve never thought I could get hot watching a chick eat, but I may someday have to tie Candice up naked and feed her little morsels of food.
I put my hands up, shrugging. “Hey, no judgment.”
“I’d have a cigarette, but someone’s being a real dick about that.”
“Watch it,” I say, staring her down. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.” I’m satisfied when I see her squirm, a flush working up her face.
“What the hell do you care, Hank?” she hisses. “I was under the impression you could give two shits about me.”
It’s a fair question after how I left things. “As I recall, I said I cared, then you were the one who said she felt nothing for me.”
Her face falls, and I regret saying anything. It was much too revealing a statement, and I sound like a whiny bitch.
“Hank, what I said. It wasn’t true. I’m really sorry.”
“Forget it. We’ve got bigger fish to fry. I need you to tell me everything about you and your brother’s involvement with Dom.”
She wipes her mouth, glancing around. “Here?”
“No, we have to head back.”
“To Gibson?”
“No.”
She sighs, sitting back. “What about my brother?”
“There’s an APB out on him.”
“What?” Her eyes bug. “So he’s just going to be picked up like a criminal?”
“No, like a person who is being saved from getting killed by criminals.”
“The police can’t pick my brother up. You don’t know everything.”
“I don’t think we have much choice in the matter, do you? What would be worse, the cops or Dom?”
