by Jennifer Ann
Stone turns to throw me a firm glare that sends dark shivers racing down my spine. Ever so slowly, he bends to whisper, “This place is even more secure than your daddy’s compound, lil’ mouse. Try scamperin’ off in the night, and I’ll know.”
As much as I want to ask if that means he lives here too, I can’t force the words past the tight ball in my chest. I silently follow the two women inside, cursing myself for having landed in a different kind of prison.
The loud drip of a faucet draws me toward the bathroom.
My heartbeat bangs against my eardrums as I tip-toe down the hallway.
My bare feet dig into the plush carpet outside of the bathroom.
I lift my hand, pressing it against the cracked door.
The drip-drop of water becomes deafening.
My heart lurches into my throat.
I already know what I’ll find long before the door opens.
The drops are replaced with silence.
A breeze rushes through the open door.
It’s cold…always so damn cold.
The unmistakable odor of fire clogs my lungs.
I open my lips to scream.
Waking from the nightmare in the softest bed known to man, I suck in a silent breath with goosebumps breaking out across my skin.
I’m being watched.
Despite the darkness blanketing the room, I can feel the weight of a gaze. It’s a feeling I know all too well after years of being held captive.
Either Diesel or my father has found me.
If Stone hadn’t intervened, I would have my backpack with me now. And that means I would have my knife. Instead I’m helpless to whoever’s here to take me back.
If I scream, one of Sasha’s friends would come running. And I’d be putting their lives in danger. I couldn’t do that to the only two women other than Sasha who have ever showed me any degree of kindness.
There’s no stopping whatever happens next.
I release a little sigh and subtly turn my head like I’m rolling over in my sleep, peering through one partially cracked eyelid. After my vision has adjusted to the dark, my pulse quickens when my suspicions are confirmed. I’m definitely being watched. Only it’s the last person I was expecting.
Stone’s perched in the corner of the room, elbows on his knees, observing me with the same degree of heightened irritability Diesel has whenever other men come sniffing around his territory.
A handgun sits on the armrest at his side. Knowing he’s armed in the room with me is a little unnerving, although surprisingly hot. Is he here as my protector, or as a threat? Has he been there all night?
“You make a fuck-ton of noise in your sleep,” he tells me in a low, undeniably sexy voice. “Who’s Oliver?”
Anger flushes through my cheeks. The hurt of losing my baby brother still feels so raw at times, even after all these years, that the mere mention of his name brings back ugly memories that I have no choice but to bury deep. If I didn’t, I’d snap.
“No one—it was just a dream,” I snarl, sitting upright with the down comforter pulled tight against my armpits. If I hadn’t had enough sense to keep my shirt on when I went to sleep, I’d accuse him of voyeurism. The twisted side of me wouldn’t even hate it if that was the real reason he was here. “What’re you doing in my room? How long have you been sitting there?”
“Long enough to make sure your daddy isn’t coming to take you back.”
The confirmation of his intentions fills me with a placid warmth. He’s here to keep me safe. I may not know much about Stone, but he handled Diesel like he was a helpless child. My father wouldn’t stand a chance.
“I thought you said this place was secure,” I goad with a subtle eye-roll.
“It is. Ryker’s made a lot of enemies since he took over the South Side.”
“Then why are you sitting there? I’m clearly not taking off anytime soon.”
“You’re not taking off, period. End of the fuckin’ story.”
He rises to his feet, lumbering across the room to linger beside the bed. My nipples pucker with the rich, virile scent of sandalwood that clings to his skin. The whites of his eyes cut through the darkness, pinning me to the bed with their severity. Emotions brew behind his pained expression, as if he’s eager to say something more.
I’m overcome by the unexplainable need to know everything about him…what makes him tick…what makes him so angry all the damn time…what makes me want him in a way I’ve never wanted any man before.
His thick lips part with a stuttered breath, creating a sharp pang between my legs. I’d give anything for a taste of those lips as they make me a promise. “As long as I’m breathing, neither that asshole nor your old man will get another chance to break you.”
With that, he turns around and heads for the doorway. Even after he’s shut the door behind him, I’m positive he’s still standing watch on the other side.
I’m unable to sleep, knowing he’s out there.
I wish he was with me. In this bed.
Maybe my father’s right. Maybe I really am seriously messed up…beyond saving.
5
Stone
Shortly after sunrise, Andie saunters out of the guest suite, looking sinfully hot. Wet hair, yoga pants and a t-shirt loaned to her by Zoe, easy smile—she’s almost unrecognizable as the scared lil’ mouse I rescued the night before. Except for the way she’s favorin’ her arm, reminding me how badly I want to kick some biker ass.
Her weary gaze immediately locks on mine. “Any news on Sasha?”
I grimly shake my head. Hoped like hell all through the night that the guys would pull Sasha out of that cesspool before she’s subject to more of their abusive bullshit. But just as I expected, they reported the place was on lockdown with Andie’s disappearance.
“Good morning,” Zoe sings, casting a friendly smile Andie’s way.
Eyes cast downward, almost like she’s embarrassed, Andie mumbles, “Thanks again for giving me a place to sleep.”
Waving a hand through the air, Zoe laughs. “Seriously, it’s no problem. Ever since Stone’s cousin helped the boys sign with his label, the band has spent more time here than their own places. We could have an entourage of bodyguards and groupies living in the guest wing for an entire month, and we probably wouldn’t notice.”
“I totally would notice,” Charlize sniggers, waltzing into the room. “Especially if these bodyguards were hot.”
Not sure when Charlize switched her hair from purple to red, but the color perfectly matches the Vans on her feet and her fiery personality. A tick of irritation passes over my jaw when she bends to snatch a fresh blueberry muffin off the counter. She’s starting to fill out like her sister, and shouldn’t be wearing skin-tight jeans or cropped tops that show off her belly when she reaches like that. Zoe and Ryker moved her to a private school in the suburbs. Doesn’t the place have a damn dress code?
As she takes a huge bite of the muffin, her pretty brown eyes slide over to Andie. “Who’re you?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” I snap.
She throws me a bratty look, nose scrunched. I grunt out a chuckle. Andie will fit right in with this crew. They’re some of the most stubborn women on the planet.
“Andie’s going to be our guest for awhile, so be on your best behavior,” Zoe warns her sister with a pointed look. “Andie, this is my little sister Charlize. She’s annoying at first, but she grows on you. She won’t be in your hair much anyway…she’s headed off to school.”
Charlize spins around to face me, eyebrows wiggling. She mouths the words, “She’s hot” before taking another bite of the muffin.
Zoe serves us a massive breakfast in the dining room. Charlize must appreciate Andie’s exceptional beauty the way she hounds her new guest with questions about shampoo and crap she uses on her skin, what she does for exercise. Hearing Andie’s answers—that she doesn’t really have time to hit the gym and shop when what she really means is that she isn’t allowed to go anywhere�
��gets my blood boiling. Before she gets too detailed on her home workouts, I switch the conversation. Can’t deal with a boner when Zoe and Charlize are nearby.
Watching Andie sleep was already more than I could handle. Not so sure I could do it again without giving into the temptation of her salacious body twisting around in those sheets. Just thinking about the little sighs coming from her fat lips in her sleep is enough to turn my cock rock-hard all over again.
Fucking her would be a mistake. My concentration would go to shit, making me a worthless bodyguard. I’ll have to beat off later—if I can manage more than a minute to myself.
After Charlize heads to school, Brooke swings by. The women kick me out so they can discuss “her situation” while waiting for the doctor. Not sure what they need to know beyond the fact that she’s not safe going back to that compound, and won’t ever be making a return visit.
Out by the pool, I give Rook a call. “Any sign of Sasha?”
His answering grunt oozes with irritation. “No, but they’re turning the place upside down. Half a dozen bikers went tearing outta here at the crack of dawn—Ryker and Bender are tailing them, said so far they’ve stopped by two hospitals in the area. My guess is they won’t stop until they find your girl.”
Rage sears my veins with the thought of them locating Andie. Wish I was tailing those pricks instead. I’d like another round with the asshole that roughed her up. When I remember the way he dragged her around by her hair—
“Stone? You hear what I said?”
“Won’t let her outta my sight,” I confirm.
“Good, because we might end up needing her as leverage to get Sasha back.”
“That’ll never fuckin’ happen!” I bark, digging my blunt nails into the palm of my hand. “Thought you were supposed to be some kind of battered women’s advocate! If you saw the way that biker was knocking her around—”
“We wouldn’t actually give her back to them, dickhead. Just saying it could be a way of drawing them out…getting Sasha safely off the compound and onto our turf. Keep your eyes and ears open—those assholes were packing serious heat. I’ll be in touch if anything changes.”
Rubbing a throbbing vein in my neck, I end the call. If her father somehow tracks her down, I’ll know. Ryker installed a top-of-the-line security system after Terrance Fisher kidnapped Zoe. No one can get within a hundred yards of the property without setting off an alarm.
Those bikers can bet their worthless asses I’m ready for their next move.
After the doc leaves Andie with an arm sling, Brooke heads to the shelter for the day. Zoe bakes enough shit for an entire army before heading out to teach dance moves to a class of stay-at-home moms. Andie spends most of the afternoon in the library. Whenever I check in on her, she’s either sitting in a defensive position and staring out the window, half-ass reading with a scowl, or pacing. Takes all I have not to storm in there and rub her down until she’s not so damn tense.
After awhile, I head into the ballroom that Zoe and Ryker recently converted into a studio, complete with everything needed to record our next album. Hoping to shake off dirty thoughts of the sexy brunette in the next room, I mindlessly jam on my Fender for hours. We’ve been camped out in the studio every day for weeks, practicing for our new tour, and hashing out new tunes Ryker wrote. They’re mostly hard core, composed of brash notes and thundering vocals. Now that I have a little time alone, I strum a smoother melody. My fingers work the strings frantically, like they can’t keep up with the nameless tune racing through my head.
Ryker and Rook trade off with Bender and Morrison early evening, grabbing dinner before catching a few hours of sleep. I’m dozing off in the corner of Andie’s room when they take off again in the middle of the night. As much as I want to believe I’m watching Andie sleep because it’s best for her, by now it’s more of an inherent need. Every damn cell in my body wants to ensure she’s safe. Doubt I could sleep a wink back at my apartment if I tried.
The next day’s a lot like the one before. Same with the next. Before long we’re on day five since Andie’s rescue, and the guys still haven’t seen a goddamn sign of Sasha. Feel like an ass for spending time with Rook and Ryker’s families while they’re off tailing the bad guys, only coming back in shifts to rest up. They both refuse my offer to switch places. They figure I should keep an eye on Andie since I’m the only one who would recognize Diesel. As much as Ryker’s jonesing to go after Terrance for killing his uncle and mother, as well as kidnapping Zoe, the guilt of adding another complication into the mix has been eating away at my conscience a little more with every hour he’s gone.
One afternoon while I’m jamming to my favorite Soundgarden tune, I sense Andie’s presence. She looms in the doorway, seductive lower lip caught between her teeth, alluring gaze lit with temptation, hip invitingly cocked.
Though she still won’t say much about herself, I’ve been learning more about her with every day. She’s not much into showing affection, and shies away from any kind of physical contact. Yet she’s tough as nails, and her stubborn ass won’t quit begging me to take her back to save Sasha. Kills me I’ve only seen her smile a handful of times, and don’t think I’ve heard her laugh once. Something—someone—broke her. Still, her spirit’s still every bit as fucking beautiful as her face. She’s fierce and somber, taking others into consideration before herself despite all she’s been through. It’s getting harder than ever to keep my distance when all I want to do is feel her cunt wrapped around my cock.
When my eyes land on her, her cheeks flush red. “Shit—I’m sorry to interrupt. You didn’t have to stop. It’s just…I’ve been listening from the hallway every day…I’d never heard you sing…until now. Your voice is beautiful.” She shuffles backward, tugging on the sling’s strap around her neck. “I shouldn’t be in here.”
“Havin’ an audience is nothing new.” Shrugging, I reposition my Fender in my lap to hide my stiffy. There’s never a moment I’m not hard around this woman. It’s starting to make me feel like a chump. And I’m starting to understand this sudden surge in music flowing through my veins has everything to do with her being around. “Any requests?”
Her eyebrows lift, and her pretty little lips twist with a barely-there smile. That sweet mouth does a number on me, even without having ever touched it. “Know any nineties rock?” As quickly as it appeared, the little smile slips. “My mother used to say I have an old soul.”
“Don’t get along with her either, eh?” I assume. The question seems to make her uncomfortable the way her gaze darts to the other side of the room. Not knowing the right thing to say that’ll make her smile again, I begin to pluck out a Third Eye Blind ballad. “Never got along with my folks. Wouldn’t shed a tear if someone told me they’re dead.”
Her eyes dart back to mine, widening. But she remains silent through the remainder of the song. Knowing she’s watching stirs something primal and strokes my confidence. My fingers take on a life all on their own, strumming each note with excelled perfection. I finally experience a little of what it must be like for Ryker, having a hot chick give me the kind of heated look that I feel deep down in my nuts. Never could stand groupies hanging around…until now.
She’s grinning from ear-to-ear once I’m finished. It’s the happiest I’ve seen her. “Brooke’s right—you’re really good.”
Annoyance ticks in my head. Brooke hasn’t told me shit from their private conversations. I’d really like to know more details about her old man and the abusive asshole. “What else did Brooke say about me?”
She twists a curly strand of hair around her finger. “Not much…just that you’re a good guy, and you lived with your grandma before you joined the Marines.” Lips flattening, she drops the lock of hair to touch her throat. “They still haven’t seen any sign of Sash?”
“No.” I glance down at my phone to confirm I haven’t missed any calls from the guys on patrol. “Don’t worry, she’ll be okay. Sasha’s a touch chick.”
O
r she was when she was younger at least. No one from our crew heard a damn peep out of her since Rook and Brooke sent her packing all those years ago. It’s crossed my mind a time or two that maybe she’s still pissed at them over it, and doesn’t wanna come back.
Andie lets out a long, frustrated breath. “That night I saw her in Kansas…I shouldn’t have told her about my situation,” she mutters, shaking her head. “I should’ve known she’d be crazy enough to put herself in this kind of danger.”
“You ready to tell me more about the prick that knocked you around that night?” I set the Fender on its stand and eye her hard. Makes me wanna fucking spew whenever I consider she could be his girlfriend, or even his fucking wife. “You his old lady or something?”
“Or something.” Face becoming pale, she brings her hand back down to her side. “My father passed me off to Diesel so I’d no longer be his problem. I didn’t have any say in the matter.”
Darkness stirs in the pit of my gut. What the hell is that supposed to mean? “How long has this been going on? What else has this ‘Diesel’ piece of shit done to hurt you?”
Her eyes skip around the room as she runs her free hand along the back of her neck. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
She’s lying. A ferocious snarl spews from my lips. “Does the bastard make you fuck him?”
With a terse shake of her head, she spins away from me. “I can’t do this with you.”
Jesus Christ—her old man’s pawning off his own goddamned daughter for sex? That’s on a level even lower than selling a random woman for sex trafficking. If I ever come face-to-face with the fucker…
“Hold on!” I charge after her, careful not to jar her bad arm when I nudge her back around. “We’re not done here! I wanna know exactly what these sons of bitches have done to you!”
She casts a dark look that stops me dead in my tracks. “Are you sure about that…sure you wanna hear how I cried for a week after my father declared I was Diesel’s property? You wanna hear how Diesel forced himself on me for an entire year before I got tired of turning black and blue, and decided it’d be easier to roll with it? Why, Stone? What good would it do for you to know the details?”
