by Rhea Regale
“Dom,” he answered, raising his gaze to the looming Washington Bridge and her dazzling lights. A breeze sifted through his hair, strands pressing across his forehead.
“Boss, we lost her,” Jason said.
“You lost her.”
A splash drew his attention to the men standing dockside, tossing his newly acquired trash into the river. Another pair of men hoisted a second black-bag-and-duct-taped package with a cinder block resting on top, and heaved it into the black, bottomless waters.
“Yes, sir.” Jason cleared his throat, a prevalent sign of discomfort. Dom flicked the ashes off his cigarette and put the filter to his mouth.
“Where did you lose her?” He sucked in a burning breath and exhaled a plume of smoke. “Surely my Suburban is faster than her scrap metal can of a car.”
“We tailed her into Kansas, but she eluded us in traffic.” Another uncertain cough. “I sent George out to Colorado to pay a visit to her sister. It’s the direction she was headed. We’ll track her.”
“Yes, you will.” Dom flicked his finished cigarette into the river. “I don’t want this turning into a bloodbath. Find Lexi and return her to me. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
Dom disconnected the call and pulled up the GPS application for Lexi’s phone. Still no registry. Where the hell are you?
The last body hit the Hudson with a sharp crack that echoed along the docks. The cinder block forced it out of sight at a rapid speed, leaving nothing but a slowly fading trail of bubbles in its wake.
“Haven’t located the girl?” Danny asked, wiping his hands on his tailored black pants. The man acted as Dom’s right hand, a friend of the loosest terms. There were no friends in his line of work. Friends ended up dead.
“No.”
“What about tracking her phone? Have you tried that?”
Dom turned away from the water and pinned Danny with a hard stare.
“Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?” He walked toward Danny, his hand grabbing the gun in his belt. Danny’s eyes widened. “A fucking moron like those deadbeats at the bottom of the goddamn river?”
Danny threw his hands up and stumbled back, away from the water and away from Dom. Dom advanced, his men wisely moving out of his path.
“Do you think I’d be where I am, owner of downtown Manhattan’s hottest nightclub, if I was fucking stupid?” Dom smacked Danny upside his bald head. “Of course not!” With a growl, Dom jabbed a finger toward the cars. “Get the hell outta here. Get back to work!”
Dom fisted and unfurled his fingers at his sides as the throb in his head subsided. Footsteps scraped over the rough terrain as his men hurried toward the cars. Door slammed, engines purred, and the quickly receding crunch of pebbles beneath rubber assured him his demands were met.
Alone dockside, Dom replayed the events from the night before. Yeah, he screwed up big time. His men should’ve secured the club. Instead, he let his ruffians have a little fun of their own at a strip joint while he took care of business. Never did he expect Lexi to pop up at three in the morning and overhear his conversation or see the murders take place.
Lexi wasn’t answering his calls or texts. The GPS tracking unit he had installed on her phone wasn’t responding.
“All that fucking money for a piece of shit,” he grumbled.
Tracking unit or not, he needed to find her. She had become his greatest liability, wherever she was.
Chapter Four
The last time Travis’s stomach fluttered and his heart raced like a teenage boy’s on his way to ask out his crush was the day Brent arrived in Ryder four years ago. Never had a woman created such fire in his body like Brent had, and still did. Two years of building a friendship and a work relationship with him led them both into their love affair that strengthened every day.
That same pummeling rush of emotions and reactions struck Travis when he spotted Lexi waving him down in his rearview mirror. It intensified the very second she stepped into the private dining area in the kitchen set aside for family dinners away from Miss Bess’s guests.
Beside him, Brent’s shoulders stiffened slightly, a motion he detected as if the man were part of him. His lover removed his Stetson and held it at his chest. Travis kicked himself into gear and met Lexi at the foot of the back stairs, unable to keep from looking her over. The dainty sundress and backless sandals fit her nicely, highlighting the soft curve of her hips and the length of her toned legs.
Far better attire than that Spandex number I picked you up in.
Travis held out his hand for her. She placed her hand in his, a small smile brushing across full, pink lips that glistened with a thin sheen of gloss. A similar hue of rose touched her cheeks. Her eyes, a stormy blue-gray, clouded with shyness that didn’t quite fit her. Those same eyes darted between himself and Brent.
“Good evening, Lexi,” Travis greeted. He leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek. Good ol’ Southern hospitality didn’t quite fly in his book, and certainly not when he had his eye on this sweet little filly. Her long, thick waves of midnight hair were pulled into a sweeping ponytail, a few loose curling ends draped over her narrow shoulder. She wore very little makeup, an agreeable choice since her skin was flawless and tinged with a delicate tan. The load of paint she wore upon their first meeting did her beauty little justice.
Alexis Bennett was a woman who took care of herself, an immediate turn-on to Travis.
He led her to Brent and nodded. “This is Brent Standon. He towed your car to his shop and will work on it come morning. The man’s a prodigy when it comes to mechanics.”
Brent lowered his head in a gentlemanly bow. Travis observed his reaction to Lexi, searching for any signs that his instinctual assumption might be off. Brent’s baby-blue eyes lit like a child with his first big catch from the river. The slightest blush touched his sun-toned cheeks. His strong, square jaw worked, one of his endearing features when he was nervous. His fingers curled around the brim of his hat. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips.
Travis’s heart leaped. Brent was enamored.
“Good evening, ma’am.” Brent held out a hand. Travis released Lexi from his grip and placed her slender fingers on Brent’s rough palm. The contrast in their size made Travis hard. Lexi was a tiny thing, a smokin’, sexy, city filly. Her hand of smooth, creamy skin, set perfectly in Brent’s more masculine, darker one. Brent lifted her fingers to his lips and rested a kiss against her knuckles. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Travis’s smile grew at the pace of Lexi’s blush. Her shy smile could melt him into a throbbing puddle of hot need. The unseen connection brewing between the three of them was almost tangible.
“Please, call me Lexi,” she said.
“Course.”
“Miss Bess set up dinner for us while she’s tending to her guests. What do you say we get comfortable?” Travis said, breaking the spell that had befallen them. Lexi cleared her throat and turned toward the table. Brent winked and nudged him in the ribs with his elbow as he followed their new guest.
Travis rounded the table before Lexi reached a seat, and he pulled the chair out for her. She smiled, tucking the flaring skirt beneath her and sitting. Brent took the head of the table while Travis settled in beside Lexi.
“Have you had a chance to look at my car?” Lexi asked, glancing over the delicious spread of fried chicken, green beans, buttermilk biscuits, potatoes, and gravy. Miss Bess even went as far as tossing together a salad with fresh ingredients from her garden.
Travis used the tongs to serve Lexi the first piece of chicken. She thanked him and helped herself to salad.
“Nothin’ extensive. Sun’s gone down, and even with florescent light, the bays are a bit dim,” Brent admitted, grabbing a biscuit and breaking the steaming bread open. He spooned a dollop of Miss Bess’s thick sausage gravy on top of the halves. Travis dropped a large piece of chicken on his plate, which earned him a secret half grin. “It’s an import. Anyth
ing under the hood’ll take time. I’ll have to order any parts in, and Lord knows how long that’ll take.”
Lexi shifted, a small crease pinching between her brows. “Oh.”
“You headin’ out in a rush?”
“Um, not necessarily.” She turned to Travis. He caught the troublesome stir in her eyes. “Listen, I don’t have much cash on me and I…well, my debit card…I can’t use it. I thank you kindly for setting me up here for the night, but I can’t stay if I can’t pay for my room. Especially if Miss Bess could use it for guests.”
Travis plopped a spoonful of potatoes on his plate and raked his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes.
Catching her gaze again, he smiled despite his growing suspicions about Lexi’s situation. “You haven’t a worry, Lexi. Miss Bess is more than happy to help you.”
“I’ll work,” she insisted, her back straightening. “I’ll help her, if she’ll allow me. I can clean the rooms and earn my stay. But my car—”
“We’ll figure out an arrangement with the car,” Brent assured.
Lexi fingered the linen napkin next to her plate, soft little strokes that petted her unsettlement. A soft sigh escaped her lovely lips. Travis had an urge to draw in that sigh and replace it with one of pleasure as he took her mouth in a kiss.
After a long, swollen moment of silence, she brushed her sweeping bangs away from her eye and looked at Brent. “I promise you, I will pay back every cent.”
Brent smiled, picking apart the chicken leg on his plate. “Doll, I’m not worried about that.” A flicker of mischief clouded his eyes when he turned them on Travis. Oh yes, he knew that look far too well, and it never failed to make his cock throb.
“If you’re not tired from your trying day, what do you say Travis and I take you to a bar just outside of town? We’ll help you loosen up a bit so you can relax during your stay.” He lifted a juicy leg to his mouth and paused to add, “While you’re here, we can show to around. Tourists pay good money to see what we can show you for free.”
* * * *
Fatigue might have tried to claim her, but the idea of heading out to explore a small country town and a small country bar piqued her interest. Not to mention the two hot cowboys offering to show her around.
The effect these two men had on her was profound, considering the relationship she dodged twenty-four hours ago and the threat that came along with it. She found herself staring at the two men, unable to tear away from their handsome profiles and mouth-watering statures. Time and again they caught her in her slow perusals.
In the dimly lit sitting area surrounding the dance floor of Ride’em Cowboys, she forced herself not to fidget as a slight ache stirred between her legs. Travis and Brent seemed to know just about every person in the place—guys and girls—and they were sure to introduce her to each one. She’d be lying if she said being with them didn’t stroke her ego a little, or her arousal.
Travis came to dinner in dark-blue jeans that molded perfectly to every mouthwatering curve of his legs and his ass. He donned a simple white button-down, rolled up to the elbows and open to his chest. Sandy-blond hair swept over dark eyes that held more boyish mischief than a kid, and the rugged, handsome features of his face were not hidden beneath the shadow of his Stetson. A straight nose, defined cheeks with masculine hollows, and a nice slope to his brows made him a piece of eye candy Lexi could drool over all day.
Brent, on the other hand, was devilishly handsome, dark and tan and an all-around powerful man. It radiated from him on waves of unseen sexual heat. Each wave licked at more than her skin. It curled and danced around her belly, slithered through her pussy, and lapped at her clit. His light-blue eyes pierced her with heady glances, silently conveying a promise of raw pleasure if she dared take a chance with him. His long, dark hair fell in soft, thick waves that brushed the top of his shoulders and caressed the side of his face.
Lexi took a swig of her third beer, the effects of the alcohol seeping into her tense muscles at last, allowing her an inkling of relaxation. She had stopped looking around the place for any signs of Dom or his goons when Brent inquired about her discomfort.
She wasn’t about to tell these two the reason she landed in their presence. The fewer people to know, the safer for everyone.
“How’re your heels feelin’, baby?” Travis asked. Their latest friend finally left the table, and the men’s attention turned back to her. Not that it ever completely left her.
Lexi curled a lock of hair around her fingers. “Sore, but better. Miss Bess gave me some antiseptic cream and bandages to help.”
“That’s Miss Bess for ya. Always prepared,” Travis said with a laugh. He knocked the lip of his bottle against the neck of Lexi’s. “You dance?”
“Country?” Lexi asked. She shifted, looking back at the dance floor filled with dancers. “No. Don’t know the first thing.”
“Wanna learn?” He thrust a thumb toward Brent. “That man knows how to set heels on fire.”
Warmth spread over her face. You both know how to set more than heels on fire.
“Go ’head, baby. Whatever’s got you bothered won’t come here. We’ll protect you.” Travis held up his hand in semblance of a Boy Scout. “Promise.”
Lexi laughed and nodded. She looked across the table at Brent where he lounged back in his chair and whose damn fine mouth curled up into a bone-melting smile. “Fine. But I’m warning you, I’ll be putting out the fire on your heels faster than you can light it.”
Brent kicked back his chair and climbed to his feet. He rounded the table and held out his hand for Lexi. She glanced down at his callused palm and rough fingers, recalling the strength in each appendage and the tenderness that met her smaller hand back at Miss Bess’s. A thick leather cuff, plain black with two gold snaps, decorated his wrist. Other than that, he was jewelry free. No wedding band, either.
“Feel like taking a chance with me tonight?” Brent asked. His voice had dropped an octave, his words a husky, seductive purr that slid up her spine and rolled down to her fingertips. She realized his question came on a double entendre, one she wanted to scream yes to, but her mind held a vise of caution around her.
Oh, but that Southern drawl challenged that vise and made it quiver.
Lexi put her beer bottle on the table and dropped her hand in his. Something about this place, the jubilant atmosphere, the quaintness of Ryder and all that fell within its boundaries, left her feeling a little more carefree than she should.
Hell, if she was going to die, she might as well enjoy the short time she had to live.
“I think so.” She twisted in her seat and stood up. Brent lifted her quicker than her own legs could, landing her flush against the hard frame of his body. The direct contact left her breathless, staring up into his hard-lined face and slightly slanted eyes. Her palm splayed against the top of his pec. She could feel the slope of well-defined muscle from her fingers to the heel of her palm. The exotic scent of his cologne warmed her, weakened her, and left her wet between her legs but dry in her mouth.
He was gorgeous in a bad-boy way, and she definitely had a soft spot for bad boys.
“Ready, doll?” he murmured, his voice strumming the taut ends of her nerves. She barely nodded before he led her to the outer edge of the dance floor. “Watch ’em for a moment. See if you can get the rhythm. Country dancing is repetitive. If you can get the set, you’ve got the dance.”
Lexi watched the couples as they moved by, observing their seemingly simple steps and pace. She had never danced anything remotely uniform since her last dance recital when she was ten. She sat out line dances at weddings and parties, opting for freestyle motion.
Brent leaned down, his warm breath tickling her ear. Goose bumps slid across her arms. “Think you’ve got the idea?”
“Guess we’ll find out, huh?” She offered him an encouraging smile and pulled him onto the floor before she could change her mind.
Lexi tried to get the hang of the steps, stu
mbling over Brent’s feet every other beat. Apologies spilled from her mouth, laughs from his, as his strong arms braced her weight so she could move more fluidly. There was nothing fluid about her dancing at the moment. She listened to his instructions and lost her backless sandals twice, but she continued to glance at the passing couples to get a better idea for each heel-toe-cross-stomp-cuss that went on.
“I don’t think I’m getting it,” she confessed, fingers grabbing tightly to Brent’s biceps after she tripped over his foot for the umpteenth time. “I’m going to blame the sandals. I think you need cowboy boots to dance country.”
Brent laughed, the sound so rich and thick it filled her lungs and stirred through her nether region. Even in the dim lighting, she could see the sparkle that touched his eyes.
He tugged her close, using one hand to lead her arms around his neck. “Show me how you dance.”
“The music I normally dance to is a little different.”
“City tunes?” Brent snorted and shook his head. He tipped her chin up with a single finger. “I’ve found this to be quite endearing, doll. You’re something cute.”
“Cute?” she teased. She swayed in his embrace, enjoying his closeness. “Cute is a puppy, or a kitten, or a stuffed animal with sad eyes.”
“I’d say what I really thought, but I wouldn’t want to offend you.”
“No offense taken, as long as I’m not in debt to your battered and bruised feet.”
“Even trade.”
Brent swept her around without notice. She swallowed a shriek, clinging to his neck. With her face beside his, the fortified steel of his body encompassing her entirely, she went limp. She knew she had no right to indulge, but she couldn’t help it. A glance toward their table showed Travis, his gaze locked on her, dark and sexy and totally watching with the smallest of seductive grins.
He lowered her to her tiptoes, but his face remained alongside hers. “I think you’re the most beautiful lady to come through this town. You nearly left me speechless when Travis first introduced us.”
