by Leigh, Lora
“Of course,” he answered. “I might just do that, Rogue. Tell Zeke I was looking for him before he left the office. He’s not answering his cell phone, but I left a few messages.”
“I’ll let him know you’re looking for him,” she promised as she moved away. “Night, Gene.”
If she saw him. She checked her watch. It was going on nine and she hadn’t seen him yet. That was unusual, and she admitted, it bothered her.
After making a full round of the bar she slipped back through the door next to the counter, managing to evade detection by her brother or Gene. She moved up the stairs, pulled the key to the apartment from her jeans, and unlocked the door before slipping inside.
The apartment was dark. She never left it dark. She always left lights on, simply because she hated fumbling for the switch.
Moving to back out, a surprised yelp left her lips as a hard hand gripped her wrist, pulled her in as the door was pushed closed, before she found herself flat against the wall behind her.
She would have screamed if a part of her hadn’t instantly recognized the man that pressed against her. Her lips, parted on instinct, rather than blasting out in furious sound, let a moan slip by as hard male lips pressed into them, and a ravenous tongue licked over them.
Rogue let her arms wind around a muscular male neck. She arched into the hands that slid beneath her T-shirt and caressed her up her back. Her lips returned the fiery kiss that blazed over her lips.
She tasted him, felt him, smelled him. Her senses became filled with him as he lifted her against his harder body, his thigh sliding between hers as his hands moved her to ride the hard muscle.
Heated, pulsating pleasure erupted through her pussy. Instantly, her clit became swollen, her juices began to spill. Her breasts swelled beneath her bra and her nipples tightened. Every cell of her body went on high alert at the touch and the taste of this one man.
Her lips closed on his tongue, hers met it, stroked, licked. A soft cry filled the air, throttled as their lips held it back. Her body was instantly electrified, responsive, needy. She needed and wondered at her response to him. At the sheer pleasure, the sense of anticipation that filled her as his hard hands held her hips, his heavy thigh muscle grinding between her thighs.
Blood thundered through her veins now; her flesh became sensitive, her body weak with arousal. It was like this. Each time he touched her, each time he was near, she was ready for him, waiting for him.
“John is here,” she gasped as his lips moved from hers and arrowed down her neck. One hand pulled at the neckline of her T-shirt, pulling it back from her collarbone as he devoured flesh there.
His tongue stroked over the sensitive skin as she breathed in harshly, her head falling back to give him greater access as heated sensation raced through her.
“He’s not up here,” he growled before raking his teeth over the upper swell of her breast. “I checked.”
“He has a key,” she moaned, her nails digging into the muscles of his shoulder, feeling naked flesh.
He must have taken off his shirt before she entered the room. He still wore jeans, she assumed he still had his boots on. But his back and chest were bare, heated and hard.
“He’s always interrupting things that he shouldn’t.” She nearly lost her breath as his hands pushed her shirt over the swell of her breasts. “God, Zeke, you make me crazy like this.”
When he was hard and demanding, determined to take what he wanted. It made her blood pressure soar, made heat erupt throughout her body as her pussy clenched in need.
She ached for him. She’d ached for him all day, watched for him, needed him.
“I want you crazy,” he breathed over the valley of her breasts. “Crazy and wild. Come on, Rogue, show me how wild you can be.”
How wild she could be? She was weak, arching to him as he pushed aside the lace of her bra and licked over her nipple.
“Wild?” she moaned. “Damn, Zeke, I can barely breathe.”
His chuckle was dark and sexy against the tight tip of her breast as his lips covered it, sucked it into his mouth, and sent her senses spinning.
The lash of his tongue against her nipple sent fire rippling through her nervous system. Each hard draw at the tender tip sent a spark of reaction straight to her womb, stealing her breath and leaving her gasping at the pleasure.
Her world was on fire with pleasure. Pinpoints of light sparkled behind her closed lids, and nothing existed, nothing was real but this touch, this man that held her against him with a strength, a power that she hadn’t sensed in him before.
“Where is the little bastard?” he finally groaned as his head lifted from her breast.
“Who?” she lifted to him, desperate for more.
“Your brother.” His cheek rubbed against her breast, the dark rasp of a shadow of a beard sending a shudder through her body.
“Oh. Downstairs, with Gene. Your deputy left you a message on your cell phone.” She finally remembered. “You can answer him later. Much later.”
She felt him tense against her. Every muscle in his lean, corded frame seemed to tighten to steely hardness.
“Definitely much later,” he agreed, though he was drawing away from her now, pulling back before reaching beside her to flip the lights on.
Rogue blinked at the sudden bright light, staring up at him as he slowly released her before jerking his shirt from the back of the couch and pulling it over his head.
“What?” She watched him with a frown as he pushed his arms through their holes and pulled the shirt over his lean abs.
“Grab a jacket.” He turned back to her, his expression hard. “I had Alex drop me off here; we’ll take your cycle back to my place.”
Rogue tilted her head to the side as she watched him curiously now.
“Are we slipping away, Zeke?” she asked him.
“Not for the reasons you might be thinking,” he grunted. “This has nothing to do with caring who sees me with you. There’s just a few things I’m avoiding right now.”
That was strange enough; she couldn’t imagine Zeke avoiding anything that needed to be taken care of or anyone causing him any problems.
“You’ll explain why later, right?”
He nodded slowly. “Later. I promise.”
Licking her lips nervously, Rogue moved to the closet where she pulled her leather riding jacket free, then lifted the keys to the Harley from the small peg inside the closet.
“Here you go.” She tossed him the keys after closing the closet door and turning back to him. “Sorry, there’s no secret door to slip out of. You’re going to have to take your chances going down the stairs, I guess. Unless you want to climb out the back window and shimmy down the drainpipe or something.”
He glanced toward the bedroom window as Rogue’s gaze narrowed.
“Explanations would be nice,” she finally told him.
He nodded slowly. “Explanations will have to come later though. Let’s go.”
He grabbed his own leather jacket from the couch; she hadn’t even noticed it until then.
Shrugging it on, he opened the door, looked down the stairs, then led her from the room before locking the door behind them.
Rogue stayed silent, though the questions were beginning to build in her mind. She followed him down the stairs, then the short hall to the back door. They slipped from the bar as silently as he had obviously slipped inside, and he led her straight to the covered carport behind the bar where she kept her Harley parked.
He straddled the cycle quickly and inserted the key as Rogue swung onto the padded back hump. The throb of the cycle’s engines between her thighs was always an exhilarating, almost sexual sensation that gave her a reckless little thrill.
She pulled on the helmet Zeke handed her as he pulled on the extra that he had taken from a hook just inside the carport. Within seconds, the kickstand was up and he was backing the motorcycle from the covered shelter before turning the handlebars and accelerating from the back l
ot.
The small graveled drive that led from the back lot across a rough meadow exited at a small country road that broke off from the interstate. Zeke turned onto the small country lane before revving the engine and speeding away from the bar.
Resting her hands on his tight waist, Rogue rode behind him silently. She could feel the tension burning in him, feel the need, for whatever reason, to get her away from the bar.
She wondered if his absence that day had anything to do with his tension now. According to his secretary when she’d called earlier, he had an appointment out of town and Kendal hadn’t known when he would be back. Now, he’d had Alex drop him off at the bar and they were escaping on her cycle rather than in his Tahoe?
She couldn’t bitch about escaping with him though. There was something incredibly fulfilling about riding free behind him, his warmth buffeting the cool night air as she held on to him.
She’d never enjoyed riding behind anyone else. She’d always loved the control of wielding the cycle’s power herself. But somehow, with Zeke, it seemed natural, right. The feeling was almost as powerful as lying in his arms after the explosive orgasm he gave her.
The night sped by, the wind chilly but not cutting. There was a hint of warmth to the air, the certainty of the land that summer’s heat was heading its way. In front of her, the certainty of her lover’s heat seemed to wrap around her, enclose her as he navigated the darkened back roads toward his home.
The drive wasn’t long, no more than half an hour, but the cell phone at her side had activated twice, and she had a feeling she knew who it was.
Her brother. Or Jonesy. They couldn’t know she was with Zeke, but they would guess that she was heading to see him at the least.
Why, she wondered, was John so intent that she leave Somerset and return to Boston? What drove not just Jonesy but her brother to such lengths to supposedly save her from Zeke? It bothered her, first Jonesy, then John. Both were pissed at the thought of her being with Zeke and she couldn’t figure out why.
The broken heart was her risk to take, and the risk was one she wouldn’t miss out on, not now, not after waiting this long for the chance to steal his heart.
But was she stealing his heart, or was she fooling herself? She’d been throwing herself at him for years; had he just finally taken what was offered, or did it mean anything to him?
She had to let herself believe that it meant something, at least for now.
Clenching her eyes closed for precious seconds, she held on to the hope, the prayer, that more would come of this than a broken heart.
Her eyes opened as he made the turn onto the side road that led into his farm. The night seemed darker, the stars blotted out by the thick covering of pine that reached into the night sky. She felt isolated from the rest of the world, as though she and Zeke were riding into a place where nothing else could touch them, where nothing existed but the two of them.
When he broke from the heavy tree cover it was to make the short ride to his home. He pulled the motorcycle up to the garage doors, stopped, and kicked down the stand before swinging off, leaving the engine throbbing as he moved to open the garage doors.
Rogue slid into the seat he vacated, relishing the heavy heat he left, kicked up the stand, and pulled the cycle into the garage before cutting the motor and pulling off her helmet and hanging it on the end of one of the handlebars as she watched Zeke move toward her.
The cell phone at her hip beeped imperatively.
Pulling it free, she checked the number, before lifting her gaze back to Zeke.
“Jonesy and John are getting rather impatient,” she told him.
“Do you usually check in with them?” he asked her.
Rogue shook her head before flipping the phone open and bringing it to her ear.
“I’m busy,” she told her bartender. “What’s the problem?”
“Where the hell are you? John is going crazy trying to hunt you down and he’s making me crazy,” Jonesy growled. “Why can’t you just let someone know when the hell you’re riding off into the night?”
Her lips thinned at the controlled anger in his tone.
“Where is John?”
“Hang on, you can talk to the little bastard yourself,” he snapped.
The muted sound of the band, conversation, and general good times could be heard through the phone for long seconds as Rogue threw her leg over the cycle’s seat and waited impatiently as Zeke paced to the end of the garage before turning back, leaning against the wall, and crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her.
“Where the fuck are you?” John snarled into the phone. “I’ve called every damned number you’ve ever given me trying to find you.”
“Since when do I have to inform you of where I’m going or what I’m doing?” she asked quietly, aware of the sound of the bar fading in the background of the phone.
“Since I suspect you ran off with that damned sheriff you insist on sleeping with,” he retorted harshly. “Get your ass back here, we need to talk.”
“Is the bar on fire?” she finally asked sweetly.
“Don’t fuck with me, Rogue.” His voice was grating and harsh. “No, the damned bar isn’t on fire, no one is bleeding, dead, or hospitalized, and you aren’t in danger of a lawsuit. What you are in danger of is the fact that Dad will be on the first flight out here if I make the call I’m getting ready to make.”
Anger threatened to explode through her. Zeke was watching her with those cool, predatory eyes of his, as though he knew something she didn’t and he was just waiting on the explosion.
John was exploding, Jonesy was acting damned strange, and for some reason, Gene, Zeke’s primary deputy, couldn’t get a call through to him. Zeke wasn’t even wearing his cell phone.
“I’m not fourteen,” she said softly. “Nor does Daddy make the rules I live by any longer. Make all the calls you want to. But be warned, John, cause me too much trouble and I’ll leave you lying on the floor with your balls choking you. Understand me?”
She flipped the phone closed before he could answer, then turned it off, all the while her gaze locked with Zeke’s.
“I assume explanations will be forthcoming,” she said.
“You can assume.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I have the answers.” He shifted away from the wall and headed for the door. “Let’s go inside, Rogue. I’ll give you what I have. At this point, that’s about the best I can do.”
His voice was heavy, laden with something bitter that clenched at Rogue’s chest and left her aching. It left her frightened.
TWENTY-ONE
Zeke could feel the anger brewing inside him. It was a dark, eternal core that had begun years ago, when he first realized how diseased his father had become. When, as a fourteen-year-old kid, Zeke had made his first kill.
Disgust stirred, thick and oily, in the pit of his stomach, its acrid taste burning his tongue at the memories he rarely allowed himself to revisit. His nervousness, the complete fear that had washed over him when he’d picked up the handgun lying on a small table. The shock and surprise in his victim’s face when he’d turned, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
Because his father had told him the man they were meeting would try to kill them and would then kill Zeke’s mother. That they had no choice but to be waiting on him, and the only way to surprise him was if Zeke took the shot.
Fourteen fucking years old. So damned dumb loyal to his father that he hadn’t known his ass from a hole in the ground. All he knew was that his father said he was in trouble, that someone was going to try to kill all of them. As men, it was their place to protect his mother. They were the head of the house, the protectors, the defenders. And Zeke had bought into it until the second he fired that gun and saw the other man’s eyes, heard his last gasping breath as he whispered, “Why?”
It played out in his nightmares sometimes, it lurked in the back of his mind when he was awake, and a part of Zeke had never forgotten that second of insight, as death glaz
ed another man’s eyes, that he would never be the same again.
Because of his father. Because he had idolized the man who had raised him, because he had trusted him, believed in him. Because he had been a stupid, dumb kid that the father he loved had manipulated.
Zeke remembered a time when Thad Mayes had been a good man. When his father’s brown eyes had been clear with laughter and good humor. Until he had taken a devil’s bargain. A bargain that had destroyed his marriage, his relationship with his son, and, Zeke suspected, had eventually taken his life.
Opening the door into the house, he stood aside as Rogue moved toward him slowly, her violet gaze dark with worry, her expression pensive.
The need to touch her was almost overwhelming. The need to sink inside her and forget the horrors of the past was a hunger he could barely deny himself. The need to hold her in his arms, to feel her warmth. It went beyond hunger, it was a compulsion now, an addiction. He needed her touch until he could barely function for it at times.
But under that fierce need was too much rage. It was dark and boiling inside him, demanding action. It was like a demon nipping at his soul, destroying his control.
The anger rode him too deep to allow for touch. It was too much a part of him tonight, rising from his soul until it threatened to push through the very pores of his flesh.
“What’s going on, Zeke?”
He shook his head and held his hand out to her. “Come inside; this isn’t the place to talk.”
Staying away from her would have been the best decision. If he’d had the strength. God knew, he didn’t have that strength. He’d had to fight every second for the past five years to remain aloof, to keep from taking her, until the battle had been lost.
She had come to him innocent, sweet, and pure. Her illusion of sexual experience and wild disposition was just that, an illusion. It had taken him a while to see through it, to realize certain things about his tempestuous Rogue.
She was sugar sweet on the inside; that hard outer core was so fragile that it defied understanding. She was too gentle, she was too much of everything that he didn’t deserve, should never have. And his soul had claimed her despite his best intentions. The dark, ragged core of his being had reached out to her and been comforted by her when Zeke knew he didn’t deserve that comfort.
