The man had a grizzly snicker curled on his lips. “Isn’t this your girlfriend? I saw you in here grabbing her ass when I rode by last week.” He asked as he held me up like some prize. “She’s hot. Look at this body. She’s made for ridin’. How did a scum bag like you land a girl like this?”
The part about grabbing my ass wasn’t a far-off assumption. Martin always went over the line with flirting to borderline being downright sexually harassing.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I blurted out as my survival instincts kicked into overdrive.
“Is this true?” One of the men raised a doubtful eyebrow and glanced at Martin.
“She’s cute and I’m trying to land her…” he responded. Even on the brink of death, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to throw in a sleazy joke.
“I’m telling the truth,” I screamed. “He’s my landlord, nothing more.”
“Your landlord?” One of the men called out with surprise. Then, he gripped Martin around the throat. Martin protested by withering around. “Well guess what? We’re about to rob this place. You and your landlord.”
Martin tried to respond, but he wasn’t able to come up with an excuse that satisfied the men.
“If you don’t pay up, we’re going to tear this whole shit apart and burn you up inside,” one of the robbers warned.
After much going back and forth between them, one of the robbers lost his patience and shot Martin point blank in the head.
I screamed, and the world blurred around me. A puddle of thick red blood began to pool around Martin's head like a red, sticky swamp. I whimpered and involuntarily began to shake.
I knew I was next on their list. I’d witnessed them murdering someone. The only way to silence me was death. I couldn’t even save my own damn life. I hoped they’d make it quick and painless.
One of the masked men pounded towards me. I dropped my gaze to the ground, afraid of the murderous glare I might find. My long hair cascaded downward, sweeping the floor, concealing my face and my view. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Before I had any time to say my last prayers for life, the masked man whisked me up by the hips. I fell limp in his arms. I didn’t want to protest because that meant imminent death. He sat me onto the back of his motorcycle, plopped a helmet on my head, and hastily climbed on the top.
“Hold on,” he commanded and then before I knew what was happening, the engine revved. My body jerked as he took off, speeding down the highway.
Chapter Two
Ace
Her face was the first thing I recognized, but isn’t that true of anyone you see from your past? Her steel-gray eyes were second. Those mesmerizing, cool gray eyes that practically hypnotized me if I stared directly into them, like an eclipse in the sun.
Her silky midnight hair spilled gently down her back. My fingers ached to run my hands through that jet black hair and feel its softness grazing against my skin. I had to keep her safe. I had to protect her. She still haunted me, all these years later. She is my obsession. So much had happened since our last encounter, and she was supposed to be mine…
Did she remember me?
“Hold on,” I warned her. I didn’t give her time to protest as I put my helmet on her. I kicked the bike into gear and sped off down the pavement. The night was cooler than average for early summer, and my sweat melted away from me. Without my helmet, the wind felt refreshing against my bare face.
Her slender fingers wrapped around my cut, holding onto the leather folds of my jacket as if she were clinging on for dear life.
Once we were far enough away from the scene of the crime, I slowed the bike down so that I would be able to talk to her over my shoulder.
“Ever been on a motorcycle before?” I called out over my shoulder.
She didn’t respond at first, and then I figured she probably didn’t want to talk to me since she had just witnessed a shoot-out and a murder. I knew her grandfather from back in the day, which meant that she wouldn’t be any stranger to a life of crime.
I’d almost given up that she would appease me with a response when she finally whimpered behind me. “When I was little. My mom rode one. Who are you?”
Finally…her voice. My lips cracked into a smile. “You seriously don’t recognize me?”
She remained silent. I wasn’t your average guy, so she had to have some idea. Plus, it hadn’t been that long…
“You just hold on tight. I’m trying to get you away, so don’t do something we’ll both regret. You don’t want to hit the asphalt. Trust me,” I told her.
“What?” She shrieked and gripped me harder.
There was no use trying to talk to her. The wind was raging past us. As long as she didn’t try to do anything stupid, like jump off the moving bike, she would be fine. Her slender arms wrapped tightly around my waist was giving me a massive hard-on that I was hoping she wouldn’t notice. Why, of all times, was I aroused by this?
It seemed like I was always living my life on the run. There was never a dull moment, especially with the way I made my living.
Khloe Anwell was on the back of my Harley. I never could have seen the universe giving me this token of appreciation, especially with all the misdeeds I’d committed over the span of my thirty-four-year lifetime.
The last time I saw Khloe was when she was just shy of turning eighteen years old. Four years had passed, and she'd been hiding from me all this time. I needed answers.
I slowed the motorcycle to a crawl in front of a sleepy looking one-story motel with half the letters in the red sign fizzled out. As soon as I parked the motorcycle, Khloe threw my helmet down on the ground and bolted on me. She was fast, sprinting across the parking lot like an athlete.
I caught up with her and grabbed her by the wrist. She screamed.
People whizzed by in their cars on the highway none the wiser.
As I trotted her back across the parking lot, I bent and whispered in her ear, “That’s not the way this works.”
To my surprise, she snapped back. “Well, how does it work? Are you going to rape me and then kill me?”
I frowned in disgust. How could she even ask me if I would stoop so low to do such a vile thing to her or any woman for that matter?
“Be quiet. Come with me.” I couldn’t let her bring attention to us. I didn’t want to hurt her either. I just wanted to talk.
If that meant I had to be a little forceful right now, I would just have to do it to get my way. I could always explain my motive later. She was so beautiful, and even though she was kicking and screaming, I dragged her to a vacant room at the far edge of the motel where no one would see us or care what we were doing. I used a pick rake to release the lock and shimmied into the dark and empty room.
“Let me go,” she wailed, yanking on my sleeves and clawing at my skin.
“Easy,” I told her and gently laid her down on the bed.
She kicked at me like a wild tomcat, clawing at my eyes but I jerked my head to the side just in time. She jabbed her foot out and sacked me in the balls. I blurted an expletive and shifted my hips out of the way to avoid the second blow.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I pleaded with her, grabbing her legs and trying to hold them steady.
She wasn’t having it, so I pulled a set of handcuffs out of my jacket and shoved them onto her tiny wrists before she could squirm away from me again.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Promise,” I reassured her. “I just need to make sure you stay put this time.”
“I don’t know why you kidnapped me,” she hissed. “I had nothing to do with whatever my landlord did to anger you.”
I sat back on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily from the struggle. “Don’t you remember me?” I asked.
Her cheeks were red with frustration and fright. Her pretty little lips were pressed together in rage. I waited for her response, but she said nothing. She refused to look at me.
“I don’t want to talk to you about that stupid asshole landlord of y
ours,” I told her. “I want to know why you reneged on your grandfather’s deal. You were supposed to be mine, Khloe.” There was a slice of wounded pride in my voice as I asked the next part. “Why have you been running from me all these years?”
Chapter Three
Khloe
“I don’t want to talk about that,” I told him.
Confusion ravaged me. Also, pain. The handcuffs were rubbing up against my skin and already causing chafing and redness.
“Ouch,” I grimaced. “These are so tight. Can’t you take them off?” I begged.
He stared at me. I knew who he was, and by the way his hazel eyes flashed with a twinge of remorse and past sorrow, I knew that he recognized me too. His name was Ace. He was the courier that frequented my grandfather’s house. He was the outlaw I was sold to.
His hazelnut eyes stared through me, causing my heart to gallop in my chest. They reminded me of the leaves in the autumn, right before they fluttered to the ground and draped the earth in a canopy of oranges, yellows, and reds.
I hadn’t seen him in years, but he had the same muscular, sculpted arms and chestnut hair that I remembered. We were locked in a gaze where we were waiting on each other to make the first move.
He was rough, rugged, and sexy, just like I remembered him. His skin was sun-kissed—a smooth muted olive with golden undertones. He hadn’t changed one bit. Vibrant tattoos covered every visible inch of him, making it easier for me to identify him. Neither one of us was addressing the elephant in the room. We already knew each other from our dark and crippling pasts. As I witnessed tonight…the raid, the killing…,Ace remained fully immersed in his.
The way he was staring at me right now reminded me of way back then when I’d be minding my own business at home at my grandfather’s house. He’d come to visit from time to time and give me that hungry gaze, the kind like he wanted to completely ruin me and take advantage of all of my body at once. But at the same time, it was as if he wanted to devour me and swallow me whole with love and protection.
I was unsettled and didn’t know what to think or how to react. My head was swimming with scenarios that might unfold in the next seconds to follow. Why’d he bring me here?
I looked around the drab room, focusing on the sounds coming from the busy freeway.
“Tell me the truth first,” he said. “Then I’ll take them off.
I squared my jaw and bit my tongue to prevent from answering him. I glanced away, towards the dirty and dusty, tattered old curtain in front of the only window in the motel. The HVAC unit was noisy, and it was blowing out everything but cold air. I was hot—in every way.
“Why did you run?” He pressed, inching closer to me. He smelled like cologne and earth. It wasn’t how I expected a criminal to smell. There was no doubt in my mind that he was the man who disappeared without a trace years ago.
He got up from the bed, fidgeting with his cell phone—typing on it. He was probably texting those other killers about his planned dirty deeds or something. I sighed and rolled my eyes. This time, he took a seat in the chair by the bed and waited.
I swallowed hard and refused to make eye contact with him.
“I’ll even let you go if you cooperate.”
He was lying. I could hear it in the threatening tone of his voice.
After a swelling silence between us that made my pulse pound in my ears, he abruptly stood up. I watched him as he moved around the room. He looked like a convict itching to get out of jail. It was kind of amusing to watch right up until the point when I realized that he was an ex-con. And then, his mounting aggravation became unsettling to watch. I wanted to ask him what he was going to do to me as my punishment, but I was too proud to allow the words to spill from my mouth.
He walked to the door and clutched the knob, but before opening it, he paused and turned around. He gave me a look that was laced with a subtle amount of empathy.
“I’ll be right back,” he grumbled.
And with that, he was gone. The door crashed shut behind him.
“Wait!” I called out, ready to surrender for fear of what might happen to me if I was left alone in this room. What if he never came back? What if I starved in here? Would anyone ever rent out this room and notice me before it was too late? Surely the housekeepers would come in the morning.
I grunted and groaned, thrashing around on the bed, struggling to free myself in vain. It was no use. I had no way out of these handcuffs.
I stopped exerting myself and stared at the door, huffing and puffing and praying he’d come back and release me. After what had seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, I heard the doorknob jingle again.
Ace walked back through the door with a determined look etched across his brow. He was carrying a bucket of ice and a first aid kit. He also had a set of room keys, which led me to believe he’d been down to the lobby to pay for the room that he’d broken into to hide me here.
“What are you going to do with that stuff?” I inquired apprehensively as I pushed myself into a sitting position on the bed. My arms were still raised above my head, and I was experiencing that numb and tingly feeling from them being in the same position for too long.
Without a word, he began opening bandages and antiseptic ointment. He made a movement towards me.
“Don’t!” I called out in warning. “I don’t want you to touch me. I’ll do it myself,” I pleaded.
His lips pursed into a thin line, but he plopped the items down in my lap, yielding to my request. “Here then,” he murmured in compromise.
I sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes. “Asshole. I can’t do it with no hands.”
He narrowed his gaze at me and then moved to unlock one of the cuffs, leaving the other wrist bound to the bed.
I began patching myself up, wincing through the pain of my scratched and banged up knees. It was a residual battle wound from dragging myself across t the floor on the broken glass back at the shop, attempting to hide from the mobsters. Yet, here I was, kidnapped and a prisoner to one of them but I still had the injuries to go with it.
My head hurt too. I instinctively drew my hand up to touch the tender area and yelped in response as the sensitive skin protested against my touch.
“Easy,” Ace informed me gently. “You have quite a bruise there.”
“Great,” I groaned with a sigh.
He frowned. “Did someone hit you with something?”
“No. Something fell on me. A mannequin, I think.”
Ace didn’t respond, but his eyes reflected a hint of remorse. After I cleaned myself off, I shoved the remnants to the middle of the bed. “I’m finished,” I told him. “Thanks for getting that stuff.”
Ace watched me like a hawk, but in between his scrutiny of me, he had wandered over to the window and glanced out the curtain as if he were paranoid of being found here. After all, he was a criminal. His unsettled pacing rattled my core. It felt like there was a lead balloon in my stomach. It almost appeared as if he was the tortured one.
“I promise I won’t run anymore if you just agree to uncuff me,” I pleaded in a softer tone. I tried to smile, but it came out as more of a pathetic grimace. “I know I won’t stand a chance against you if I try anything,” I added. “I’m smart enough to learn my lesson the first time. You’re faster. Stronger.” I hadn’t intended to give him an ego boost. I just didn’t want to feel like a caged animal any longer.
Ace eyed me suspiciously and took another gander at the dark world outside. There wasn't a clock in the room, so I had no idea what time it was now, but I was sure it must have been after midnight by now.
He wrinkled his forehead and rubbed his temples, apparently involved in a private mental conflict on what to do with me or whether to trust me.
“Fine.” He eventually caved and approached me. “Do not do anything stupid, pretty girl,” he warned.
I nodded. “I promise.” I met his gaze and held it there.
He unlocked the other cuff and I was free
. I rubbed my aching wrists that looked like they probably needed some bandages too. There was no time for that. While I noticed him ogling me, obviously captivated by my slender figure and breasts, I made my move.
In one swoop, I yanked the ice bucket from the bedside table and impaled it as hard as I could against the side of his head. Ice splattered all over the floor.
“What the fuck!” He roared and gripped his head in pain.
While he was doubled over and reeling, I grabbed the handcuffs from the bed and clamped one on his wrist, hooking it to the bed rail.
“I’m sorry,” I called over my shoulder, feeling guilty but scared of what might happen to me if I stayed.
“Where are you going, Khloe?” His voice was icy.
I slowly turned around, trembling now.
His sneer sliced through me, but at the same time, his eyes yearned in desire. “You’ve already been paid for.”
“What? No…” I stammered, my voice revealing how spooked I was.
He sat up straight and inspected me like a hungry wildcat. His grin was sinister and handsomely wicked. "You were never part of the original deal I made with your grandfather,” he explained. “But you are so sexy and beautiful, so unique and pure. I wanted you for my own. Your grandfather sold you to me. Mostly to clear his debt, but he also wanted to ensure you’d be protected for life…from your family’s sordid history with the cartel. In return, you were supposed to be my woman.”
His words sent a violent shock wave through me. I couldn't breathe, and the room was spinning. I gripped the wall so I wouldn't collapse. I knew it would come to this. My grandfather had told me what he’d done before he died, but Ace's words were chilling as if I was just learning of my plight for the first time. I was immobilized, rooted to the floor by the harsh reality of his words.
“I can protect you. I will protect you. But if you leave, that only makes it harder.”
Chapter Four
Claimed by the Ex-Con: An Ex-Con Second Chance Contemporary Romance Novel Page 2
