by Debra Kayn
But, every fucking day, he waited for his past to catch up and rip his world apart.
The men responsible for killing Joney were still after him, Quint, Will, Mark, and Two-crow. The harassment continued over the years. The arson only a distraction, they waited until he began to relax, and would show themselves again, toying with him, fucking with the others, making their lives hell.
While the five of them had talked about going to law enforcement after escaping Mexico and congregating in Montana, they knew each of them would also be held responsible for their crimes.
He'd killed a man to escape and lived with the picture of Joney mutilated by the dogs in his head every day and night. Then, the six men came after them over the years. Four of them were dead, buried in remote locations to hide his and the others' crimes. There were two men still out there, waiting for the perfect time to take them out.
He had no other option than to play their game, hunt their prey, and kill the last two.
Over the years, their need to seek justice for Joney only grew stronger. As he'd matured, struggled, and fought for everything he'd achieved, he realized what those men had done to innocent boys and what he'd experienced and lived through burned like acid inside of him.
He couldn't put Iliana in his life. The danger, the destruction, the anger consumed him.
But, he couldn't let her go.
ILIANA PEEKED OUT OF the bedroom. Unable to see the couch in the living room from the hallway, she said, "Are you sitting down?"
"Yes," said Anders.
She stayed hidden. He'd come up from the bar grumpy, barely glancing at her as she hurried to the bedroom to strip off her robe. Rubbing her hand over her stomach and down her hip, she hoped her surprise would put him in a better mood.
Goosebumps covered her skin. She inhaled a shaky breath. The white baby-doll lingerie had remained in the sack at home in her dresser where she'd stored everything that wouldn't fit in the motorhome. She'd bought it at the mall on a whim a few years ago, even though she had no one to wear it for. Until now.
She'd packed the slinky outfit in her bag, just in case there was a time when she wanted to wear it for Anders.
Even with the high of singing tonight, butterflies consumed her. She walked slowly down the hall in bare feet. So much of how she interacted with Anders was a guessing game. He never voiced his likes or dislikes.
The glow from the fireplace roaring in the living room cast shadows on the walls. Behind the couch, she placed her hands on Anders' shoulders, leaned over and kissed his neck. He'd done so much for her by letting her stay with him and sing, she wanted to do something special for him.
Walking around the couch, she glanced at him. He ogled her openly making her more determined to go through with what she'd planned.
She stood in front of him, knowing the sheer, white baby-doll top showed her nipples through the fabric. The only part of her hidden from his view was the one-inch patch of white material on the thong between her legs.
Anders' body hardened. His gaze steeled on her and he fisted his hands on his thighs.
Unsure what was going through his head, she turned in a slow circle. She knew him well enough to know he spent a lot of time looking at her body. Fully clothed, naked, when others were around, and when they were alone.
Facing him again, she lowered herself to her knees on the floor between his legs. She leaned forward and undid his belt, looking into his eyes for any sign he wasn't one-hundred percent into what she was doing.
His eyelids lowered to half-mast and his gaze intensified, almost screaming for her to keep going. Her pussy tightened, sending a thrill through her.
She unzipped the front of his jeans and reached inside. His cock pulsating at her touch.
He lifted his hips off the couch and shoved his pants past his hips. His cock, large and hard, throbbed for attention. Attention, she wanted to give.
They'd always had protected sex, and as yet, she hadn't gone down on him. She wanted the time to please him. To feel him without any barrier. To be closer to him. To give back what he gave to her, so many times.
She wrapped her fingers around him. His naked flesh a thousand times better than latex. Hotter, harder, and more powerful under the velvety, perfect skin.
Her nipples peaked. Gazing down, she rubbed the head of his cock against her breasts through the sheer material. A tingle went through her, and she held her breath as her arousal weaved drunkenly inside of her at her brazenness.
His hardness pulsed in her hand. She gazed up into his face and exhaled swiftly. He took everything in, letting her lead.
That she was doing things right, pleasing him, boosted her into trying more. She stroked his length. His reign of everything surrounding him, including her, turned her on.
She ran her thumb over the crown of his cock, pressing on the sensitive tip, stealing the moisture she found and smearing it down over his hardness.
Anders' swift intake of air spurred her on. She lowered her head and gently licked. Desiring him, she opened her mouth and put her lips around his cock.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding the strands away from her face to give him a better view of her mouth on him. She took more of his length and sucked.
Pulling up while keeping her lips sealed around him, she peeked at his face and found him watching her. His hand tremored against her head, and she went back down.
Up and down, she sucked lightly using her tongue to caress the sensitive vein running the length under his cock. Empowered by his reaction, she slowed, fisting the base of his hardness with her hand. He always drew out her pleasure, giving her the most out of every emotion that lived inside of her. She wanted to do the same for him.
The muscles of Anders' thighs bunched, tightening on her ribs. She licked, sucked, and stroked him with her mouth.
His hand clutched her hair, the restrained pressure urged her down, taking more of him into her mouth, her throat. She sucked harder. His breathing turned ragged.
High on bringing him out of the strict control he always held on to, she steadied her strokes, feeding him the rhythm he liked best. Her own breathing became erratic, caught up in his arousal, she hadn't even noticed that she rubbed her breasts against his inner thighs with each up and down movement until her nipples tingled and beaded.
She moaned. The added vibration in her mouth brought Anders' other hand up.
He cupped her chin, warning her he was losing control. "Il...?"
She went down on him. Up on him. Down on him.
He exploded, and she swallowed his come, slowing her strokes, stretching out his pleasure until he inhaled a deep breath of completion. She lifted her head, licked her lips, and climbed up onto his lap, curling her body around him.
His body remained relaxed. The only part of him moving was his hand, patting her ass.
"Thank you," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.
She tilted her chin to look at him. "I really like you, Anders Stone."
His gaze flinched and he picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom. She hugged his neck, knowing he wouldn't say what he was feeling, but he would show her.
Chapter 11
Iliana's hand stilled on the guitar. The conversations around Anders faded away, and Iliana's husky voice softened bringing his body to attention.
"...the landslide will bring it down." Her lips curled slightly, dreamily, before she faced the crowd.
The audience broke out clapping, snapping Anders out of the hypnotic state Iliana had put on him with that song. Over the last month, he knew all her songs, all the words, and since the first night of her playing at Stone Lair, those words continually shook him.
It was as if she spoke straight to him through her songs.
Iliana scanned the crowd, found him standing at the end of the bar, and blew him a kiss. His chest swelled. Everyone employed at the Lair or spent more than one night here understood she belonged to him.
He'd made it apparent that no
one touched her and everything she wanted would be at her fingertips. Though, she never asked for much.
Quiet time upstairs to practice her songs.
Time with him in bed every night.
No corn on her dinner plate.
Iliana walked toward the door to backstage. He followed her sway until she was out of sight. Only when she was away from him could he feel the tension in the room and look around and spot the reason for the dark cloud.
Two-crow, Quint, Will, and Mark crowded the entranceway of the bar. Reading the stoic expressions on their faces, he motioned for Mac.
When his manager reached his side, he said, "Stay in the bar and watch the crowd."
"Of course." Mac lowered his voice. "Is there trouble?"
"I don't know." He glanced to the door leading backstage. "I want you to wait for Iliana and escort her upstairs and tell her to wait for me."
Anders lifted his chin at the others across the room and walked to his private entrance. By the time he had the door open, the others were behind him. He took them upstairs to the office and closed them in. Soundproof, bulletproof, and secure, the room would provide him with privacy.
His head pounded. Conflicting thoughts cruelly battled inside his skull.
He would never forget Joney and the others. Yet, he refused to let Iliana walk away.
Two-crow broke the silence. "One of Quint's employees was murdered. It was all caught on the security tape."
He clenched his hands. "When?"
"About four hours ago." Quint's jaw ticked. "It took this long to clean up."
"Was it one of the men?" he asked.
"Not that I recognized." Will's gaze steadied on Anders. "The last remaining two who are alive must have hired others. What happened today took strength. The two men after us have to be pushing fifty-five years old, if not older."
Through the years, they'd witnessed four of the men responsible for the dogfights come to Montana after them. They had a folder of at least ten men who they knew were tied up with the original six.
"There has to be proof that this was from them. You run a campground. It could be any of your guests, a stranger, and have nothing to do with us." Anders remained standing.
He wanted there to be another reason why someone would get murdered on Quint's property. His relationship with Iliana depended on it.
Quint reached into his pocket and handed a folded piece of paper to Anders. He took it, turning his back to the others, and looked inside. Sweat broke out on his chest, and he inhaled deeply seeing the dead and mutilated dog lying beside the victim.
Only one group of people would leave such a reminder.
He turned and handed back the paper. "What do we do?"
Silence once again filled the room. How many times had he or one of the others asked the same question while locked inside the concrete room?
"There's a chance the same thing could happen to the rest of us. What are you going to do if you wake up to a dead man and a mutilated dog on the step of Stone Lair?" Two-crow leaned against the edge of the desk. "Who is next? Mark? Me? You? We can't let them ruin everything we've each built."
"We don't even know who the fuck we're going after anymore?" Mark ran his hand under the collar of his flannel shirt. "If they've hired others to come after us, it could be anyone."
"I sure in the hell know that the man who was killed could be mistaken for me. Same build, same hair, and with his back turned, they could've thought they'd killed me. As a warning to everyone in the room or just to get rid of me, well, that's your guess." Quint crossed his arms.
Knowing Iliana should be upstairs, Anders picked up the remote and turned on the screen, making sure he found the right camera. He found her in the kitchen watching the teapot and twirling a spoon in the jar of honey—something she always did after she sang to soothe her throat.
"Who's that?" Mark turned fully toward the screen. "You've got a woman?"
He thought about not telling them. It wasn't anyone's business who he kept in his life. But, with their past coming after each of them, he wanted her protected, and he trusted the four men in the room with him.
"That's Iliana. The singer." Will exhaled loudly. "I've seen her sing a couple of times."
All the muscles in Anders' body tensed. "She belongs to me. I need to make sure she's protected," he said quietly.
Mark looked over his shoulder at him. "She knows about—?"
"No." He swallowed. "She will never know."
"If something happens and she's around, how can you keep it from her? It's not like she'll turn a blind eye. She'll want to go to the police, and if that happens, we'll all be sitting in prison." asked Quint.
"Something has already happened. It was her motorhome that got bombed." He shut off the screen, blocking the others from looking at Iliana. "The state police declared it an arson and law enforcement have the identity of Owen Roberts. We know, they won't find him." Anders clamped his lips.
The time to avoid the situation was over. Someone else got murdered because of them. The danger to every innocent person around them increased the longer they let the two men responsible live.
"We need to tighten everything down." Two-crow looked around the room. "We all work with other people and are around the public. No matter what we do, there are going to be ways for them to get to us, and those around us."
He wanted to send Iliana away to keep her safe but trusted no one. Not even her parents, without knowing what they were facing, would be able to protect her.
In their desire to break away from their past and the murder of Mateo when they'd escaped, they'd tried to erase their history. Scared to go to the authorities and be arrested for the murder, each of them agreed they would build a life where nobody knew who they were or what they'd lived through.
That had worked for a few years. Then, threats started happening. Danger showed up on the job, brake lines were cut, and recently firebombs had gone off. And, they'd committed more murders.
It was too late to back away. It was too late to explain what they'd lived through. It was too late to believe he could ever move forward without looking behind him.
Knowing no matter what happened, the five of them would never sway from their pact, he looked Quint in the eyes. "One day, we will take them all down."
Quint dipped his chin. "For Joney."
"For Joney," said Mark.
"For Joney," said Will and Two-crow.
He walked them out of the office and through his private quarters, letting them out the back door. Standing on the landing, he watched them all go down the stairs and slip into the darkness.
Regret and guilt consumed each one of them. They'd failed Joney.
And, yet, when they got together, it was always on the tip of his tongue to ask how they could bring Joney back. But, no power in the world could bring back the dead.
Long after he heard the cars drive away, a dog barked in the distance. He gripped the railing and closed his eyes, letting his chin drop to his chest. Tired of always being on guard, he shuddered. He couldn't outrun his past.
A warm body pressed against his back. He flinched before recognizing Iliana's soft curves. His blood rushed in his veins, pounding his heart. How was he supposed to keep her unharmed when he couldn't even protect himself?
Chapter 12
"Yay, you're coming early." Iliana held the cell phone to her ear and slipped her feet into her sneakers. "Are you staying at the Lair?"
"We thought we'd drive on to Spokane after you're done singing and get a hotel room there. That way we can go RV shopping on Sunday," said her mom.
"That'll work." She tried to tie her shoe with one hand and gave up.
"Your dad thought it'd work better if you ride with us and leave your car there. If you find a motorhome, you'll have to drive that back, and then I can drive your car back to the house...as long as your dad doesn't lose me in traffic. It'll save you a trip if you hang out with your old mom and dad for the night."
She laughed. "You're not old, and yes, that'll work. Did Dad put the check from the insurance company in the bank?"
"Yes."
She stretched her legs out. "Cool. So, tell Dad thanks, and I'll see you both on Saturday. Make sure when you get here, you ask around for me so I can see you before I start singing."
"Sounds like a plan, honey. See you soon. I love you."
"I love you, too," she said, disconnecting the call.
She set the phone on the couch and tied her shoes. Filled with excitement at seeing her parents after almost three months, she stood. The phone call from home came at the perfect time. She'd been almost ready to go out and exercise.
Since arriving, any form of keeping in shape outside of sex had been pushed to the side in exchange for spending more time with Anders.
She'd woken that morning knowing Anders was going to be busy and wanting to go for a run—which would probably consist more of a slow jog.
Going out the private entrance, she made sure to lock the door behind her. The warmth of the day already creeping in through the trees, she hurried down the stairs and headed to the side of the building where she knew there was a rural road. She loved to lose herself while running and looked forward to the trees and green-space rather than houses and businesses around her.
She could go over lyrics, music, and her checklist of what she wanted in her career while keeping herself in better shape. It was time to face what she was doing in her life. Her time at Stone Lair was coming to an end.
Jogging away from the parking lot, she concentrated on her breathing.
With the insurance company coming through with money to replace her motorhome, there was no reason to keep singing at the Lair. She couldn't monopolize Anders offer of letting her perform on the weekends. His customers would want someone new.
She understood the business. Though, she'd tried to ignore how she felt about leaving Stone Lair.
Every day she spent with Anders, she'd grown closer to him. She couldn't explain the physical need to be with him. It went beyond sex.
