"Do what, Rock?" I whirl on him and get in his face again. "Admit that this," I sweep my hand out, "this is all a fucking lie? That I'm the third wheel hanging around until the game's finished? Is that what you don't want to talk about?"
He's fisting my shirt and shoving me against a wall as Summer comes out of the bathroom. I don't look at her; all I see is a hazy blur of anger.
"I'm going to ignore you said that," he whispers roughly.
He's furious. So am I.
"Your choice, dude," my breathing is coming hard and fast as adrenaline courses through my system.
I'm pissed off. It's not his fault, it's not even mine. It just fucking is.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he growls, his forearm pressed against my throat, pressing down, choking me.
Everything. Everything is wrong.
I break his hold from me and have his body planted against the wall where I just was, face smashed against the cold surface. His arm is twisted at his back.
With my mouth at his ear, I whisper with the same false levity I always show the world. "Life, Rock. Life is wrong with me."
My switch flipped. My facade cracked and split wide open and all my shit came shooting out like a fucking geyser, contaminating everything. My rage, my sorrow, my hate, all detonated and my fucking hope drowned in all of it. What was left was the truth. Ugly and raw.
I drop his arm and exit the room, leaving him and a shocked Summer behind.
Life sucks. We don't have any control, not over a goddamn thing. We like to convince ourselves that we do, but it's all bullshit. We need to feel better about what we do, we have to justify our actions, whether good or bad. It's all bullshit.
We've got to do what we've got to do.
That's where I'm going.
The heavy door slams shut behind me as I walk down the corridor amid a row of meaningless doors, until I get to the elevator. Not for the first time I wonder if the person, or people, we’re looking for is behind one of them. We’ve run checks on them all, the regular Joe’s and Jane’s, everyone on this floor. They’ve all been cleared as having no affiliations to The Program.
That could mean jack shit, really. If they’re good, and I’m sure they are, they’d get in under the radar. We would.
I shouldn’t have fucking done that. But I had to. He wouldn’t have let me leave if I didn’t do something.
I press a finger onto the illuminated down arrow. What I really want to do is smash my fist into it. The surge of electricity would be welcome, along with the knock on my ass from it. I picture Rock back in the fancy hotel suite with the thick king size mattress. He’s furious. That doesn’t bother me really. It’s Summer. She’s got to be worried and confused as hell. Rock will give her some excuse for what happened, something good that she’ll believe. He knows her best.
Yeah, he does.
Is that really the problem here? Am I acting like a spoiled little brat who doesn’t have the shiny toy that his best friend has, even though he lets me play with her like she’s my own?
Where is all this shit coming from?
I run my hands through my hair just as the elevator dings its arrival.
Thankfully it’s empty, I have a few more minutes of solitude before I have to be on my game. What I’d really like to do is get shit-faced and find an outlet to fuck my frustrations out on.
Instantly Raven’s go-fuck-yourself smirk flashes in my mind, and those legs in fishnet hose and kick-ass boots, the one’s with the weapon stashed in them.
What a vicious little angel.
She’s exactly what I want, the only thing that would quench this fucking animal tearing me apart inside.
And I hate it.
The doors slide open at the ground level. There’s a business man in a suit clutching his briefcase with one hand and his phone in the other. I don’t bother to make pleasantries with him as his eyes meet mine with a hint of fear in them. I’m not surprised, a tattooed covered dude with what I’m sure is an expression that says ‘Don’t even fucking look at me.’ I could care less; This Joe means absolutely nothing to me.
But it’s time to get my game face on.
I brush past him and toward the shiny lobby with the chandelier and all the mirrors and fake gold surfaces.
Usually nothing bothers me. Now, every damn thing is making me feel claustrophobic and edgy as shit. I’m completely off kilter and I don’t like it at all. I need to get my shit together; I don’t have time for this. This is exactly the weakness they’ll be looking for. One fraction of a second I’m not one hundred and ten percent focused is all it takes.
As I walk, I take a few cleansing breaths, get myself centered, even amidst this unfamiliar place and sea of people, (the fucking place is packed), and I’m good once again. I slip on the face I always wear, the one that says I don’t give a fuck. I wink at the girl behind the desk, the one with the fake smile, slap the concierge on the back and say, “How’s it going sport?” as if I don’t have a care in this shit-ass world.
On the outside I appear to be this guy. On the inside, the world is finally catching up to me and has a pair of pliers in its filthy paws with my nuts name all over it.
I told you, I love my fucking nuts.
I get to the bar and take a seat under one of the hanging lamps. I’m not hiding from anyone.
The only way to find out who’s after you is to lure them to you. The only way to do that is to put yourself on fucking center stage. That’s exactly where I’m comfortable, I’m too pretty not to be.
“Seltzer with a lime, gorgeous,” I tell the bartender with the D cup rack, and smile at her.
When she brings my drink, she bends over the bar, her girls on glorious display. “Driving tonight?” she asks with a smile.
“Maybe.”
“I bet you’re an excellent driver,” she purrs squeezing her tits together so they almost pop out of her white button down blouse.
If this were a normal trip, maybe Gringo and I would take her back to his room and one of us would fuck those tits while the other stuffed her full of cock.
“Doll face, I’d drive you to places you’ve never been before. Me and my co-pilot. I think you’d be perfect for a trip with us.”
Her face instantly flushes, her pretty cupid lips open to an O. It takes her a minute to respond, “I’d love to.”
I lift my glass to her. A distraction, just what the doctor ordered. I haven’t participated in the orgies with Gringo and Bull since me, Rock, and Summer became a trifecta. I have had absolutely no interest. If I’m honest, the idea doesn’t appeal to me now. This woman with the perfect tits does nothing for me. But I need to separate from my partners, Rock and Summer. That needs to start now. For them. If something happens to me when the shit goes down, at least the physical bond will have already been severed. It’s the least I can do for them.
And this woman with the tits in my face is a perfect place to start. I’ll play with her and enjoy it even if I don’t want to. With a smirk on my face, I lean in closer to tell her how good her girls look.
Until I see Raven and Hawk in a darkened corner. He’s got her by an arm and that fucking evil mouth of hers is moving a mile a minute as she glares at him.
Mother fucker!
I’m going to kill them both.
CHAPTER 9
Raven
Can my luck get any worse?
Jesus Christ, of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world, he had to show up in this one. Son of a bitch!
“I’m going to ask you nicely one last time, what are you doing here?” he snarls at me again.
Hawk. Apparently my new worst nightmare.
After a day of out of the ordinary pleasant surprises, Snake with his "I'm going to play with you" attitude and meeting is very interesting friends, then things with Joe went well, Murphy's Law came and bit me in the ass once again. At least Joey didn't set me up. I explained the situation with the merchandise and he listened to what I wanted. Joey The Ba
tman might be a hitman, but if I had any friends, he would be one. We’ve got a lot of history, which I’m sure is the only reason he even agreed to speak with me. We don’t run in the same circles anymore per se’, but we’re equals to a degree. And we respect each other. Respect doesn't exist in the world we live in. It happens but not often. And trust? You might as well put a bullet in your own head if you make the mistake of putting your trust in someone else.
Joey's going to put his ass on the line and try to make the deal the for me, if he can’t, well then I’m on my own.
Nothing new there.
I work alone, I always have, a one-woman show, I’m your worst nightmare lurking in the shadows. Then the meet-up I had with the Steel Brothers member went to shit. He thought he could take for free what he was supposed to pay for. He even tried to take things that weren't part of the deal, but I knew how to fight back. Not only did that scumbag attempt to rob me, he tried to rape me. No one takes what’s mine. I left him with a memento to remember that, and took his shit just to let him know what it felt like. When I realized what it was, I had no choice but to reach out to someone so I could unload the merchandise. The situation has the potential to escalate into a battle between the MC Steel Brothers club and whoever took it, (that would be moi), the package is that valuable. And little ole me was the one who started this mess.
My luck, other than the six-foot-plus pissed off brick wall holding me hostage right now, continued to work in my favor when Joey agreed to get me a room. It was orgasmic taking a hot shower and laying down in a clean bed. How long has it been? As long as it's been since I've had an orgasm, so long, I don’t even remember.
I’ve been on the road forever and trouble has been my companion my entire life, (again, nothing new), I had to keep a low profile. Unfortunately, those circumstances came with shit holes and degenerates. When I crossed paths with the MC Steel Brothers, I found myself in one of two positions: barely teetering on the edge of a very high cliff, or getting ready to come out the other side.
It appears another problem just planted its big ass in my way. Its name is Hawk.
“I don’t remember anything I do is any of your concern,” I try to dislodge myself from his grip again.
What the hell is it with these men?
“It seems to me, little lady,” his voice is like ice, “it’s too great a coincidence that I run into you twice in the same week.”
“Last I checked it’s a free country and I can go anywhere I damn well please,” I sneer at him.
If this man had the ability to make expressions, he'd be snarling at me. From what I've seen, this fucker is stone.
“That it is. So why don’t we talk about the places you’ve been, starting with my store and this expo. And why.”
“Like I said before,” I’m practically standing on my tip-toes trying to get in his face and I’m not anywhere close, “it’s none of your business.”
He begins to drag me down the hall and away from the view of everyone at the bar.
“You made it my business when you stepped into my store.”
I dig my heels in. “I thought it was Mr. Jones’ store,” I know I’m antagonizing him. The prick. Good.
He yanks on my arm and pulls me with him as he hauls ass down the hallway. “Move.”
My steps are stunted and quick, almost a run, as we move quickly toward the conference rooms. “You know, I kinda miss that tall silent guy. It suited you.”
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be doing all the talking.”
"Hrmph, not likely," I grumble.
Moving from one conference door to another, Hawk flings open the door to an empty room and shoves me inside.
"I can be very persuasive," he pushes me into a chair.
My ass thuds onto the vinyl covered seat. "That's right. I remember. You do tricks. How about showing me how you roll over and play dead?"
Hawk plants a foot between my legs on the chair, the tip of his boot close enough to press down on my sex if he chose to. A man hasn't been that close to that part of my body in a very long while. He crosses his forearms over his raised thigh and leans in close to my face. Hawk's a gorgeous man as far as features are concerned. They're perfect, with his dark hair and dark scruff. If he wasn't as cold and hard as a fucking iceberg, he might get his dick sucked and maybe put a smile on his face. A man who looks as pissed off as he does probably hasn't had a good blow job in way too long. Or a woman, precisely one of the reasons why I'm an evil bitch.
"Ms. Winters, don't fuck with me..."
"I wouldn't dream of it," I grin at him as I fold my arms across my front.
I am not disillusioned enough to think that Hawk couldn't terminate me without breaking a sweat. I don't know who he is but I know what he is, I can smell it. The rancid smell of death and destruction, the cloak he wears only the chosen few who have been intimate with it can recognize. He wants to scare me. I should be afraid of him, whatever and whoever he is obviously cannot be found at 1-800-THUG. He's cold and emotionless with rivers of black secrets swirling inside him. My own private demons watch his curiously, fascinated by their charm. He's calculating as he stares at me with a laser focus, analyzing me and taking me apart bit by bit, assessing me while he looks for my secrets and weaknesses. Like a hawk would watch his prey. He's definitely not the usual variety of criminals I've had the pleasure of crossing paths with before, but he's bad, very, very bad. He's different, and not necessarily in a good way.
Like Snake.
Like Rock and Gringo.
What a bizarre coincidence all of them are here at the same time.
There’s no such thing as coincidence.
The sudden possibility is intriguing. I almost want to watch how things might transpire between them from afar, see how the game is played by men like them. Hell, the game alone is more than likely nothing I’ve ever participated in. I’d bet Snake, Hawk, Rock and Gringo are in a league I’ve never heard of before.
That shit makes my mouth water.
“Ms. Winters,” his voice is low with his face inches from mine, “I’m a patient man. You can either tell me why you’re here, or I can find out on my own. I don’t like surprises, and you are a surprise.”
“That must have been rather unfortunate for your mother at your birthday,” I feign boredom.
That rewarded me with a response, a really intense response. His expression hardened into a mask of fury and rage, his jaw and fists tightened so hard, if his hand had been wrapped around my neck, I’d be dead.
“Why. The fuck. Are you here?” he whispers roughly through clenched teeth.
For all the warnings screaming at me about Hawk, I don’t think he’d hurt me. Not yet. Not unless he feels he needs to. After that, I have no doubt all bets are off. I swear he’d snap my neck like a twig to pick his pretty teeth with. If I were anyone else, I’d tell him what he wants to know. I have a feeling this man doesn’t like to mess around. Everything, I’m sure, is business to him. Me, I’m all kinds of messed up. The messiest of the mess. Because. I. Don’t. Give. A fuck either. Not even one little bit. That small fact will either save my ass or hang it.
“You’re boring me, big fella, so let’s move this along,” I respond, sounding slightly bored and slightly annoyed. “First, I’m not here to see you,” I begin to flick off on my fingers. “Second, I’m not here for anything about you. Third,” I’ve got my middle finger held up between both of our faces, “you have nothing to do with why I’m here. Capisce?"
His expression hasn’t changed as he continues to glare at me, his body still caging me in. He’s effectively got me pinned with my back pressed flat against the back of the chair, his knee in my chest, I can’t reach the knife or the gun in my boot if I need to. That’s starting to piss me off.
“I’m going to give you a gift,” he states quietly, his eyes never leaving mine.
My heart’s beginning to beat faster as my anxiety level starts to climb. Being confined is IT for me. I can’t stand it. That is
virtually the only thing that sets me off.
Hawk and his body have done just that.
“Lucky me,” I snarl.
“You’re smart, and I don’t trust you. I wouldn’t believe a word you tell me, especially if you swore it on a Bible. But you’re naïve. That’s your saving grace.”
“Hah!” I bark out.
Me, naïve? With the shit I’ve lived through? Not a chance in hell!
“You see, that response proves it.” He narrows his eyes at me and brings his face closer to mine. “I’d bet if you shut that smart mouth of yours for a while and listened to the things not being said, you wouldn’t be.”
If I could just quell my agitation, I could play this game with him. His gaze is boring into mine; I can’t hide from him. Not like this.
“I have a feeling you might quite possibly understand,” he whispers.
I don’t back down from his intense stare. Fuck him. Bring it, big boy.
“Here’s my gift to you, Ms. Winters, listen carefully, because I never give anyone gifts, so consider yourself special.
“I am exactly what you think, and precisely what you don’t. IF you are involved in anything to do with me, I will not treat you as graciously next time.” He inches his face closer, “Tread carefully, Ms. Winters, take this as a warning.”
“Look, Hawk,” I place a hand on his shoulder to push him away. The bastard is corded muscle underneath his clothing. That proves he’s made of stone. I decide it’s better to throw him a bone. You catch more flies with sugar than you do with vinegar. “How about a gift for a gift, hmm?” He doesn’t budge.
“Go on.”
“I’m here…,” my uncharacteristic declaration is interrupted by a visitor.
“What an interesting couple.”
Snake.
His words are drawn out and sarcastic.
Fuck!
Hawk doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even move a fraction of an inch. His gaze never breaks its intensity and his expression doesn’t falter. Me, on the other hand, probably showed every fucking thing on my face, my surprise, probably some relief, and maybe a tiny bit of fucking hope. I hate that I'm happy to see him.
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