The Vigilantes Collection

by Lake, Keri

  His cock slid inside, filling me.

  I arched into him, needing to feel every inch of his skin against mine. With slow, taunting thrusts, he pumped in and out of me, and like always, he watched me. I watched him. We stared at each other, like two warriors about to dive into battle.

  He pulled out, flipped me onto my stomach, tugged my hips in the air and drove into me from behind.

  I cried out as his cock slipped against my walls, filling me in a way I’d craved for months. I angled my ass higher, rocking my hips, anxious to feel him move inside of me.

  He remained still at first, breaths juddering, fingers bruising my hips. “Goddamn,” he growled.

  Easy glides, in and out, had me closing my eyes, smiling at the relief, as his thick cock fed my starving libido. “Yes,” I breathed, reaching between my thighs to play with his balls. “Fuck me, Nick.”

  “Your pussy missed me, didn’t it? Did you miss me fucking you?” He pushed deep, jerking me forward, and I gritted my teeth at the powerful blow from behind. “Answer me.”

  “Every night. I fantasized about you every night!”

  “I did, too. Lost my mind with dreams of burying myself inside you.” His pace quickened with his words. “I needed to touch you, to come alive after feeling dead for too goddamn long.” He licked up my spine, never breaking his momentum. “I’m going to fuck you all night, Aubree. Make you come over and over. And then I’m going to fuck you again.”

  With his hips jackhammering into me, I clawed at the sheets, the dry cotton sapping my saliva as I bit down into the fabric. Violent, frantic, and desperate for that first buzz of orgasm, like an addict scoring a hit after months of sobriety. I needed the high. Yearned it for so long.

  The growling and grunting sounds he made excited me, and I let go, crying out with each merciless slam into my body. Every pounding from behind told me how much he wished to punish me. A silent confession of how much I’d made him ache for me, turn mad with lust and need, in those months apart. I knew, because I’d felt it, too. I’d grown tired of touching myself, searching for the release only his body could give me.

  He brought me to tears, not from my pain, but his. I felt it inside of me in the way he moved so frantically and then agonizingly slow. An unsettled sensation that everything could end right then and there, battling the knowledge that we had forever. Even after he’d carried out his vengeance and survived it, his pain still festered. I understood that kind of suffering, because I’d felt it myself. In spite of Michael’s death, in spite of the fact that I was finally free, a wistful longing still burned inside my heart. It was the kind of crushing pain that only love could soothe. I needed to soothe Nick’s heart, to heal him by handing over my very soul, my pain, the hours, minutes, seconds that I’d felt dead without him. I needed him to know the madness inside of me that’d bloomed from missing him.

  “I need you. Give me more, Aubree. Everything you’ve got.”

  The pressure tightened my stomach with each stroke of his cock that eased the ache inside of me.

  He pulled out, twisting me onto my back again, and kissed me before sliding back inside.

  I rolled on top of him, my nails digging into his chest, tearing at his flesh. Still fused at the mouth, I dragged his lip through my teeth and bit down. He returned the savagery, with a violent, possessive kiss, pulling my hair. We were a tangle of limbs, scratching, biting, smacking, clawing. Annihilating each other. I couldn’t get enough of him, and I prayed that I wouldn’t come any time soon because I never wanted it to end. I wanted to fuck him until I was weak, beaten, battered, and nothing but soft bones.

  His fingers dug into my hips as I rode him. My breasts bounced with each hard slam along his cock, and lifting his head from the pillow, his mouth clamped onto my nipple.

  My stomach clenched as pain pierced the sensitive flesh. The edge fringed, muscles burning. Higher. Higher.

  He tugged me back into him, fingers curled around my shoulders, pressing into my bones as he guided me up and down, up and down. Pumping, pumping, pumping.

  I screamed his name. A plea? It sounded as though I’d hit heaven, begging to come in for a while before I fell back down to earth.

  Tingles raced through my blood, and his hot seed shot inside of me, while I called out his name, over and over and his curses bounced off the walls.

  He cupped my cheeks, passion burning in his eyes, breaths shuddering with his release. “I love you, Aubree,” he said in a gravelly tone, before his lips slanted over mine. “My beautiful little pistol.”

  I smiled at that. “I love you, too.”

  A slick coating of sweat, blood and cum covered our bodies in the damp sheets where we’d destroyed each other. Happily annihilated the fuck out of one another in a matter of minutes.

  “I should punish you for what you do to my body.” His husky voice tickled my ear, and he collapsed beside me on the bed, tugging me into him. “But I couldn’t hurt you if I tried.”

  Our frantic breaths finally slowed, and he slid out of bed, reaching out a hand to me. He could’ve guided me straight over the edge of a cliff and I’d have followed him with a smile. I didn’t care—I needed to feel his body against mine again, so I took his hand.

  Leading me toward the bathroom, he nabbed a loofa set in a white antique bowl atop a wooden pedestal just outside of the shower. Inside, he flipped the water on and pulled me into his body. Steam mingled with the warm scent of teak wood, and the water coupled with his hands put me into a trance, as he washed my body down. The glass of the stall, unlike inside of the house, was obscure, but had the feel of an exotic outdoor shower, with moon’s light streaming in and the fresh air fusing with the steam.

  Alive. He’s fucking alive. I could scream the words that danced inside my head. No longer alone. For months, I’d agonized over the thought of raising his child by myself. And I would’ve. My world finally felt complete. Whole.

  “Part of me still feels like I’m dreaming and you’re not really here.” I closed my eyes as he shampooed my hair.

  “I’m really here.” A tweak of my nipple made me yelp, and I reached back to slap his thigh. With his arms wrapped around me, I felt small beside him. “I’m sorry I missed so many opportunities to watch you shower in here.”

  “A party every night. All those dirty thoughts I kept to myself. Pretty sure Mateus has enjoyed the show.”

  His arms stiffened around my body. “Who’s Mateus?”

  “The seventy year old caretaker on the island.”

  The tension eased. “I’ll kill him,” he said with a smile in his voice.

  “Mister Ryder, are you jealous?”

  “Only where you’re concerned.” His teeth nipped my ear, and he smoothed his hands over my body. “Tell me what you want, Aubree. Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.”

  “You. What else?”

  “I’m yours.” His voice turned somber. “But sometimes I’m … complicated. It’s been a long time since I shared anything with a woman. I don’t want to fall into old habits, but you’ve become my addiction. And my addictions have been known to destroy me.”

  I twisted in his arms to face him, my eyes at the level of his chest tattoo. “I don’t want easy and uncomplicated. I want love that makes me fucking insane and irrational. I want to drown in it and never come back up for air.”

  I meant it. There was nothing normal or typical about our love. We should’ve been one hot mess of madness for all that we’d suffered, but just as a flower grows from the sky’s tears, our love grew from pain. It blossomed in darkness and thrived with time.

  I kissed his arm, wrapped tightly around me as if claiming what belonged to him. Lowering my gaze, I traced the outline of his tattoo. “Losing you was like a bullet straight to my heart.”

  “I promised I’d come back.” His finger hooked beneath my chin and our eyes locked. “I always keep my promises.”

  “Then, promise me forever.”

  With a grip of my hair, he tipped my
head back, leaving a trail of kisses up my throat, until he reached my ear. “I promise,” he whispered.

  “I love you.”

  “I loved you first,” he battled.

  “And I love you twice as much.”

  “Touché.” A grin touched his eyes—those sparkling blue gems that I’d missed so much. “You were never meant to be mine, Aubree. But I’ll take you. All of you.” His hand caressed my stomach and he lowered to one knee, planting a kiss to my navel. “And any bastard tries to take either one of you from me will know insufferable pain.”

  I threaded my fingers through his hair. “I’m keeping you. Whether you like it or not.”

  He pushed to a stand, towering over me. As he bent forward and kissed me, his arms enfolded my body like a warm, protective blanket. “I like it,” he said, smiling against my mouth.

  Perhaps hope wasn’t such a cruel bitch, after all.

  Apart, we were nothing more than two broken halves, but together, our jagged edges fit perfectly, sealed into something whole again. In the end, he saved me, and in return, I saved him.

  Eye for an eye, heart for a heart.

  * * *

  WANT MORE?

  Keep scrolling to check out Backfire and Ballistic, standalone books set in the same world as Ricochet. And be sure to claim your FREE copy of Intrepid!

  Pssst!

  Intrepid includes a bonus scene, featuring Nick and Aubree!

  Please consider leaving a review. Long or short, your review is always appreciated, and along with telling a friend about the book, it is the most wonderful gift you can give an author ❤️

  Thank you for reading.

  BACKFIRE

  Keri Lake

  Copyright © 2016

  All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1533358042 (print)

  ISBN: 978-1310299445 (ebook)

  AUTHOR’S NOTE This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Cover Art © By Hang Le

  Photo © Eric Battershell, Eric Battershell Photography

  Model: Johnny Kane

  Editing by Julie Belfield

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  Because of you, your praise and encouragement, I decided to stay in this Vigilantes world a little longer. Ricochet will remain a standalone, as promised, but I wanted to see where the next couple of books would take me.

  Backfire and the next two books, Intrepid and Ballistic, are spinoffs of Ricochet and will not include any spoilers, as each book focuses on a different couple. This book ended up a bit longer than I’d planned, and I considered breaking it into a two-part serial (with a dreaded cliffhanger), but opted to give you the full story instead.

  You’ll find light, and of course, like all my books, it’ll flick to darkness. Not recommended for readers under the age of 18. Trigger warning for violence, drug abuse, and scenes of torture and rape (not between the main couple).

  My inspiration for the story not only came from my musical muses, but also my appreciation for urbex photography that began a few years ago when my crazy ass sister (who happens to be an amazing photographer) showed me some shots she’d taken of the abandoned Packard Plant. The darkness, the angles and the destruction of the images intrigued me. In that visit alone, she explored parts of the building where the floors and ceilings were literally crumbling apart, stumbled upon some scrappers, and returned to her car to find someone had broken into it. But, in spite of all that, she managed to walk away, unscathed, with some amazing shots that I continue to reference for my books. I grew up ‘seeing’ these shattered landmarks, but I never truly appreciated them until I studied the details through her lens. Like the characters in this book, I’m drawn to the images of abandoned buildings—factories, churches and hospitals. I’ve loved writing about these sleeping giants scattered throughout the city and have visited a few of them myself. My sister’s images of Detroit, along with those taken by a number of urban explorers I follow on both Instagram and Facebook, have served as an endless source of inspiration for my books and give a gritty edge to the setting.

  Thank you so much for your continued interest in my writing. I hope you enjoy the story.

  Much love,

  Keri

  It Backfires

  It’s said that everything in life naturally follows the path of least resistance.

  If that’s true, I should be dead.

  The principals I’ve lived by were etched in the ligature marks from the cord wrapped around my neck, the day I was brought into the world, and written in my scars, when a bullet failed to take me out.

  My only law is survival.

  Crazy how a man will go against his own instincts for the woman he loves, though.

  Sometimes, I wish I’d never met her.

  If I hadn’t, I wouldn't be staring down the barrel of a gun, clutching the severed testicles of the raping bastard who's as hell bent on seeing her dead as I am on slicing my blade across his throat.

  Shit thing about life is, when you throw an immovable object into the path of a bullet, it doesn’t follow any laws or principles.

  It backfires.

  - Jase Hawkins

  Prologue

  Twenty years earlier …

  Holding the cardboard box steady, Maria waited as her grandson pushed his mop-haired head through the hole at the bottom of it.

  “Why do I have to look at it this way, Nonna?” he asked.

  She positioned the box so that the light hit the pinhole behind the boy’s head. “Did I ever tell you about soleluna?”

  “What’s sew … sew lay … loon … a?” Head inside the box, his muffled voice brought a smile to her face, and she imagined his adorable six-year-old eyes peering out in curiosity. His inquisitive nature reminded her so much of his father.

  “Well, it’s been a long time since my nonna told me the story, so I might not remember it exactly right. But she said that many centuries ago, the sun and the moon were in love.”

  “Like mommy and daddy?”

  “Just like mommy and daddy,” she said, with a pang of hurt in her heart. Love, to a child, meant love without condition. The purest love in the world. It didn’t matter what his mother or father did, he’d love them regardless. He’d love them because he didn’t know how not to love them. “The moon loved his beautiful sole and gave her the gift of the stars, to show his undying devotion to her. Unfortunately, she never saw them, as the sun and moon were cursed to remain apart from one another. Forever.”

  “Were they bad?”

  “No, they certainly weren’t bad. Sometimes, a love so pure and strong can make others jealous and cruel. But you must never give up on love, because true love never goes away. It never disappears, only grows stronger. Even though your grandfather is no longer with me, I still carry his love.”

  “Where?”

  “In my heart.” She tapped his chest. “It’s the safest place to keep those you love most until you see them again.”

  “You’ll see papa again?”

  She tipped her head and sighed. “Yes. One day, I’ll be with him again.”

  “Did the moon ever get to see the sun again?”

  “Well,” she continued. “Day in, and day out, the moon chased his beautiful sole through the heavens in hopes that he might one day catch her. And he did! You see, when two people love that deeply, fate eventually guides them back to one another. So, every so often, the sun and moon were allowed to meet for one single kiss.”

  �
��Ugh. That’s gross.”

  Maria chuckled and glanced back at the sky, noticing the moon’s proximity as it made its way over the sun. She returned her attention back to her grandson and positioned the box slightly higher, where his shadow on the pavement was smaller, narrower, in line with the sun, and the rays would hit the paper she’d taped inside the box. “One day, you won’t think kisses are so bad.”

  “Yes, I will. I don’t like girls. They’re annoying, even if they smell like strawberries.”

  Again she chuckled. “Do you want to hear the rest of my story, or not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, so, every once in a while, the sun and moon meet for a kiss, a total eclipse of each other, and you know what that’s called?”

  “Soleluna?”

  “Yes. Darkness and light. Day and night. When they come together, it is the most powerful union there is.”

  His small gasp echoed inside the box. “I see it, Nonna!” His hands gripped the sides, covering hers, and she imagined him studying the reflection of the eclipse against the stark white paper. “Can I look?”

  “Only through the projector. You must never stare at soleluna directly.”

  “Why?” Always so curious. His questions were what Maria loved most about her grandson.

  “Because the sun is happy and in love, she gives off a beautiful la luce, so powerful and so bright, it could blind you.”

  “La loochay?”

  “It’s the most heavenly light there is here on earth, my sweet boy.” She covered his hand with her palm. “Someday, cuore mio, I wish for you a love as sweet as soleluna, and for a soul as bright as la luce to know your true heart.”