by Rie Warren
“You mean pussy drinks.”
While they continued to bitch on one another, I roared off.
I followed the route toward the cathouse, only veering off track a block away.
No, I wasn’t gonna ambush Grace during daylight hours.
I wasn’t about to risk Bunny’s wrath when I’d established a decent give and take relationship with the madam. I gave her a fuck-ton of moula, and she took it hand over fist.
Throttling down, I parked my Harley in a deserted driveway and dismounted.
The grounds of Storm’s former safe house remained well maintained.
Blaize probably hired a landscaping service.
The big white structure was eerily similar to The House of Midnight. I keyed in the digits on the lockbox and—presto magic—I was in. The interior wasn’t as grand or whatever as the bordello, but a hidey house away from prying eyes was always welcome.
Also, I figured Justice the computer brain-trust of Force-Reckon had probably kitted out the whole place for digital trace-free and track-free capabilities. The first thing I did was set up my laptop.
Then I went through all the rooms, my footsteps echoing on dusty floors.
Maybe Blaize had hired a landscaping service, but she sure as hell hadn’t employed a maid.
I found the weapons stashes and the ammo caches.
I located a whole pile of burner phones hidden in a niche under one of the floorboards.
I flipped drop cloths off the furniture, which looked to be last, last century. There wasn’t a fucking modern thing in the place except for the plumbing and electrics and super-encrypted wifi.
I liked it.
I was used to roughing it.
I opened windows, aired the place out. I found the most habitable bedroom. Then I did the fucking unthinkable. I went out and bought shit that definitely wasn’t military grade or ration-like.
What am I doing?
Nesting.
I almost goddamn snorted, spreading new sheets across the bed and over the mattress I’d hauled out back to whack with a fucking broom like a frigging housewife. I fluffed new pillows, stuffed them into fresh-smelling pillowcases. I frickin’ finished the bed with blankets soft as fleece.
I usually racked out beneath a single sheet, but I’d never want to see Grace in anything but the very best surroundings.
I didn’t even want to think about what her existence had been like at the White Lair.
I’m going goddamn soft in the head.
****
And on Grace’s very next available night, I was back at the brothel.
New plan of attack.
Intel? Check.
Infiltration? Double check.
Re-assimilation? Coming right up.
It was time for Grace to civvie-up.
See what she was missing out there in the big wide world.
Understand she could have a whole new life.
I felt foolishly fucking excited when I took the stairs two at a time in front of Mistress Bunny who—for once—lagged behind me.
“In a hurry?” she asked, her wild arrangement of cherry-bomb hair quivering as she paused on the landing.
“Yes.”
“Got big plans tonight?”
“Something like that.”
“So very curt.” Approaching me, Bunny purred. “That’s okay. I like my men tall, dark, and silent. All the better to take advantage of them.”
Her husky laughter made me smile.
I wondered if she knew what kind of sleaze-dick she worked for.
Doubtful.
I didn’t think Mistress Bunny had a bad bone in her body.
A bad mouth though? Check.
Tamping down my impatience, I waited for her to knock on Grace’s door.
I wasn’t about to barge in on the woman, but I couldn’t wait to see her.
Finally, Mistress Bunny granted me access.
I waited just long enough for the door to close—waited to hear Bunny’s receding footsteps—then turned to see Grace.
She took my breath clean away.
Sometimes she twirled her striking black hair up on her head, but tonight she wore the curls long and loose.
Hazel eyes clean of makeup and her lips a natural dusky rose, she smiled. “Hello, Killian.”
“Grace.” I stalked to her, and I wanted so much to feel her soft skin against my fingertips.
I refrained just short of touching her, but my heart beat in my throat. “I’m taking you out tonight.”
Her eyes widened immediately. “Are you high?”
“No.”
“Drunk?”
“I don’t really get drunk, Grace.”
“We cannot go out.”
It’d been weeks since I’d felt her, kissed her, and now I couldn’t stop myself.
Hands stroking along the bare skin of her arms, I watched as goose bumps rose in the wake of my fingers. “Just come with me.”
“I can’t.” She stepped out of arm’s reach, spinning away.
I bracketed her within my embrace, keeping the hold light. My breath skittered across the side of her neck.
“You can.” And even though my next vow seemed to cut like razors in my throat, I assured her, “I’ll bring you back here. Safe and sound.” Even though what I really want to do is whisk you away and never return.
“You promise?”
“You have my word.” The last time I’d given that pledge, it’d been to Mercy for Grace’s safe homecoming.
“Okay.” Grace swayed against me in one bold sensuous move that made my groin tighten, and I had to step back before the temptation grew too unbearable.
“Are you always so monosyllabic?” I joked, hoping to lighten the sexual tension that arced between us.
She swiveled around, pointing a finger in my face. “Very funny, Mr. Slade.”
My grin faltered quickly as I scanned her up and down.
My voice faltered too. “You’ll have to put on more than that . . .”
Gulp.
Tonight she wore a short red dress that wrapped around her waist in a complicated way that had my mind going in all sorts of lewd directions about how to get her out of the sexy trappings. Worse, the red number draped down between her breasts in a mouthwatering way. Then . . . the high heels.
I tried not to leer, but Jesus.
Those spectacular stilettos boasted yet more straps that wrapped around her ankles and halfway up her shapely calves.
She caught me staring—salivating—at her and arched a coy brow. “Would you mind turning around while I change?”
I smiled, beguiled by her.
Of course, she could’ve just gone into the adjoining room if she didn’t want me watching—salivating—but I pivoted away from her. And when I noticed I could see her reflection in the windows I faced, I shut my eyes.
Which made my hearing even more sensitive to every noise she made behind me.
I listened to each wisp of fabric discarded, imagining the slow unveiling of her golden skin and glorious body.
I heard every trail of material drifting over her ripe flesh, damn near dying to see her.
I screwed my eyelids even tighter together when I pictured her smoothing a shirt over the swell of her tits or dragging a pair of jeans over her fantastic ass.
“I’m decent now,” she murmured.
Meanwhile, I was just plain horny as fuck.
I turned and tried not to look like I wanted to pounce on her immediately, because she looked downright demure, which was even more of a turn on.
In a pair of jeans and low-heeled boots, Grace wore a tunic-thing that drew my eyes to strategic places, like her tits and ass.
I realized she was the type of woman who could rock an old pair of sweats and a full head of bed-hair.
Fucking hell.
“Do I pass muster, soldier?” she teased.
“Yeah.” I rubbed a hand over my mouth and wanted to throttle my hard-on. “Oh yeah.”
&nb
sp; Amusement lightened the green-gray of her irises, and she glanced down my body until her gaze landed on the evident bulge at my crotch. “I see.”
“Yeah. And you’re gonna see a whole lot more if we don’t get out of here and someplace more public real soon.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
My tongue to roll back up from the floor?
I offered her my arm, and she curled her hand around the crook of my elbow.
Just the act of taking Grace out filled me up with a chest full of pride more than a dress uniform full of tinsel used to.
I even almost whistled as I escorted Grace down the stairs, my palm resting at her lower back.
Joie de vivre.
Bonhomie.
Whatever it was this city did to people—what Grace did to me—I was suddenly hooked.
That good feeling all came to a screeching halt when we got down to Mistress Bunny’s territory in the reception area. Because there stood the cunt in a three-piece suit.
I recognized that fucking freckle-faced flesh trader the instant I laid eyes on him.
Rage ripped right through me, and I pulled up to my full, formidable height.
Now I was gonna lay hands on him.
So much for my subtle plan.
Chapter Six
GRACE
MY HEART DROPPED TO the pit of my stomach as soon as I saw Roark.
It was Wednesday. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He looked just as surprised to see me as I was to find him here.
Then, as if dismissing me, he scanned over to Killian. Killian who seemed to have grown even larger, more intimidating. Somehow, the taller darker man recognized my captor. I could tell by the way his eyes narrowed to deadly slits. Which made me wonder what Killian had been getting up to after I’d explicitly asked him to stay out of my business.
This whole damn thing was a mistake.
I shouldn’t even be down here, and I definitely shouldn’t have said I’d let Killian take me out.
Killian, who finally unveiled the full menacing presence I’d sensed lurking inside him. He bristled, lips pulled back in the snarl of a predator, as if daring Roark to challenge him.
Heedless of dangerous territory, Roark sauntered over.
“We haven’t met,” he addressed only Killian.
“No. We haven’t.” Voice low as a growl, Killian clasped me even tighter around the waist.
“You’re the mystery client.”
“If you say so.”
“Gracie, what have you got to say about all this?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but Killian cut cleanly in front of me, blocking Roark from coming any closer.
I could no longer see him around the big wall of Killian’s body, but I heard the sneer in Roark’s voice when he said, “Do be careful with my property, Mr. Slade.”
The words constituted a threat, yet Killian took another step forward.
I knew he’d loom over Roark, who wasn’t a small man either.
“You fucking be careful about how you talk about Grace,” Killian warned.
I glanced at Mistress Bunny, who looked like she couldn’t decide between wringing her hands or watching their interaction with a bowl of popcorn in her hand.
Roark laughed, but the sound was shrill.
Killian was getting to him.
But he wasn’t done gloating yet. “Did I give you my permission to take my whore off the premises?”
“Did I ask?”
I watched, shocked, as Killian drew his arm back to punch Roark.
Jumping to his side, I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t do this.”
He slid frosty eyes to me.
“Maybe you should listen to the hussy.” Roark heckled some more, and I held onto Killian, tensing against the powerful strain in his arm.
Mistress Bunny scurried over, stationing herself half in front of Roark.
“Both you bitches back the hell up,” Roark suddenly yelled, drawing the attention of more johns and more women.
I reluctantly let go of Killian, but I didn’t move very far. Neither did Bunny.
“You call Grace whore or bitch or your property one more time and I’ll wipe that grin off your face with my fucking fist, you got it?”
Pretending to be unaffected, Roark set about straightening the cuffs of his shirt while he said, “If you could refrain from the thuggish behavior—”
But Killian wasn’t done yet. “I paid to enjoy her company for four hours, so yeah. I’m taking her out.”
I blanched at his mention of payment, but he was right.
Before Roark could stir up even more trouble with his snide comments, I said to him, “Remember? You told me I could do what I want. That I’m not a prisoner here.”
“It’s so nice to know you take everything I say seriously, Gracie.”
Meaning his threats . . . chief among them: Who’s going to believe a common prostitute over a respected businessman?
If I left with Killian and even if I returned on time—like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight—he’ll have planned some sort of retaliation for me.
And I didn’t care.
“But tonight you’re being a mouthy cun—” He stopped just short of insulting me again, taking Killian’s threat on board.
While Roark simmered, just barely concealing his anger, Killian coolly pulled open the side of his leather jacket.
A long, sharp knife glinted from a sheath strapped to his waist, and Mistress Bunny gasped.
Roark’s lips formed a flat line.
“Unless you wanna meet your maker, we’re going out.” Calmly and casually, Killian delivered the threat.
“Fine. You can take the . . . you can take Gracie out.” Closing in on me, Roark caressed my face.
I tried not to balk.
I hoped Killian didn’t plunge the weapon straight through his back.
Roark pressed a kiss to my forehead, clearly putting his stamp of ownership on me. “But I’ll be waiting here when she gets back.”
A low rumbling noise issued from Killian’s throat, and I quickly turned to him.
“Come on then.” I grabbed his hand, trying to open his stiffened fist, trying to urge his stiffened form toward the door.
“Yes!” Falsely bright like the orange color painted across her lips, Mistress Bunny gushed. “Off you go, kiddies. Y’all behave though because Mistress Bunny is worse than Santa when it comes to keeping a naughty list.”
I looked at her gratefully as—with a giant shove—she managed to heave Killian into action.
We left the bordello, followed by Roark’s triumphant chuckle.
We left . . . Killian with murder in his eyes, me shaken but determined.
Clomping down the steps, he muttered, “I oughtta disembowel that cunt all over those shiny wooden floors.”
“Please don’t go back inside. Please,” I begged, trying to tug him along.
Gaze clearing as if coming awake from a disorientating nightmare, he inhaled choppily then blew out a huge breath.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just take me away. Take me away for a little while.” Twining my fingers through his, I peered up at him. “I haven’t been off the premises in . . . well, never.”
He forced a grin, which made his face ruggedly handsome. “C’mon then.”
Leading the way down the lit path, Killian brought me to a big black Harley Davidson.
I ran a hand over the seat, admitting, “I’ve never been on one of these before either.”
“Then it’s my pleasure to introduce you to the thrill of a bike.”
I shivered as much from anticipation as the cool night air biting into my skin.
Ever watchful, Killian peeled off his heavy leather. “Put this on.”
“You’ll get cold.”
“Marine, remember?” Then he stepped behind me and slid the jacket over my shoulders.
And for a single sensual moment his lips ghosted along the side of my neck.
Then he was in front of me, deftly fastening a helmet under my chin before strapping one on his head.
With ease of motion, he straddled the seat. “Hop on, sweetheart.”
Killian had never used an endearment with me before.
I didn’t hate it one little bit.
As I mounted the motorcycle behind him, he instructed, “Hold onto me and lean when I do.”
The sudden throb and roar of the engine made me giddy and nearly giggly. Careful to hold my baby bump away from him, I wound my arms around his strong middle and prepared for the ride of my life.
With a growling spurt of speed, he rocketed us forward. And I imagined a real fuck you was injected into the squeal of his tires on asphalt as we shot away from the brothel.
I couldn’t hold back a laugh that bubbled up from inside me.
Enveloped in Killian’s leather, wrapped tightly around his muscular body was a thrill indeed. Then there was the Harley. Killian’s scent snuggled all around me, and we blasted through the night.
The sights of New Orleans streamed past us in streaks of color and blossoms of sound. I leaned when he leaned, and he chuckled as I squealed at one particularly steep corner.
My heart again climbed to my throat, but not in dread.
In pure undiluted delight.
I paid more attention when he throttled down, slowing, slowing then finally bringing the bike to a halt alongside a line of many other gleaming chrome beasts.
He jumped off then offered me his hand.
Dread began to wash over me when I noticed we were outside of a bar very much like the one Mercy had once described.
“Where are we?” I took his hand, chewing on my lip.
“Thunder Road. Blood Legion MC.” He shoved off his helmet, reaching to unstrap mine, but I shrank back.
Arms wrapped around myself instead of around him, I felt a wave of distrust. “But you promised me.”
His head dropped down wearily, but he hit me with his dark blue gaze from beneath heavy brows. “Aren’t you the least bit curious? We don’t have to go in. I didn’t tell anyone, but—”
“How-do?” A black man shuffled toward us. “Mais, dis be Grace?”
Killian clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Sol, you can’t say a word about this.”
Sol’s eyes scanned me to my belly then his earthy brown eyes darted back to mine.
Oh god. How could he know?
