How much longer did we have of light? A couple minutes at most.
Wooden floorboards covered in dust spanned the length of the loft. Stacks of different sized used tires leaned here and there, creating an illusion of half-formed rooms.
I shivered, rubbing my lower arms and biceps as I waited for some kind of direction to go, something to do before the light turned off and I could no longer see what I was doing.
Stryker brushed by me, his hand reaching out to steady me as he passed. He didn’t look at me, his jaw tight.
Had I done something else to make him mad? His moods were going to make me dizzy. One second he’s supporting me and the next he can’t even look my way.
Maybe he was starting to see me for what I was – a killer of innocent girls.
I blinked, turning my head to the side as if that would help me escape the accusatory thoughts in my head. As if anything so simple could give me a break from what I’d done.
Sara tugged on my arm as I let the rest of them pass. She stared at me, shaking her head as if she could read my thoughts. “No. Stop thinking about what happened. We need to try to get some rest. We’ll deal with real life in the morning.” She nodded at me, as if I couldn’t argue with a simple command.
In that moment, I couldn’t. I was grateful someone else had taken the reins. I needed the comfort of Stryker’s presence, with or without his moods, and apparently that was something Brock and Gunner could offer as well. Even Sara had the ability to calm my nerves. I was just manic enough in that moment to greedily seek out the comfort from anyone willing to offer.
Friends or not, the Jameson boys had joined me in my chaos and I owed them for getting me out – so far.
The heat in Stryker’s eyes as he turned to look at me from beside a stack of tires left no doubt what he would demand in payment. A thrill shot through me – past the chill of my guilt and shame, past the worry we were going to get caught either by the police or the land owner – and sent a lightning bolt up my spine.
What if he wanted me the same way I wanted him? What if we made it out of that weekend without too many chains?
Could I ask him what he’d be willing to accept from me? What he’d be willing to give? I wasn’t sure what I was open to, but there had to be an answer for the heated pull between us. I could explore what that was without worry, if he was up for it. Could he separate his apparent need to keep me in place at school and in town from the tug my body had toward his? Monday wasn’t that far away.
How much of our lives was going to be able to go back to normal? After killing someone, I wasn’t sure I’d ever view Geometry the same way again.
I stepped forward beside Sara and decided it didn’t matter what Monday held. Whatever Stryker was willing to offer right there in that loft, I’d take without question or commitment. I needed an escape and Stryker’s gaze promised more than an adventure. Maybe he could give me peace at the same time.
Something in my gut warned me there was nothing peaceful about the Jameson cousins – least of all the leader.
My gut also told me that wasn’t a bad thing.
Chapter 2
Stryker
Stressing about the cops or getting caught by the Russians wasn’t going to fix anything. I tried to relieve the tension in my shoulders as I watched Gray in the light of the motion light. Her incredible blue eyes were wide and she nibbled on her full lower lip. If she didn’t stop, I was tempted to teach her a thing or two about what those lips were meant for.
But she’d had eyes for Gunner and she’d won over Brock whose tenderness outside the barn had left me speechless. What was it about Gray that had gotten through the Jameson shell? I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to find out.
The inside of the loft had a melancholic feel as I tried to see it through Gray’s eyes.
Dusty tires, some with tread and some without, created the layout of the fairly open floorplan. A guardrail had been set up along the catwalk side of the loft where more tires and boxes of screws, nuts, and bolts had been stacked, reinforcing the warning to stay away from the edge.
The fact that I’d just damaged a bunch of my truck left an aching hole in my chest. Brock and Gunner didn’t address it. They knew I only did it out of desperation. My dad and I worked on that truck together. Memories I couldn’t replace were attached to every piece of that vehicle down to the date and our initials we’d carved into the back of the instrument panel before he’d been deployed on his last mission. I was twelve when we finished the truck. Thirteen when he died.
Right then wasn’t the time to wallow in self-pity or memories. I waited for Gray to join us by a pile of moving blankets Tiny stashed up there. With only a small layer of dust, they were clean enough to sleep on and more than acceptable to use as we escaped reality for just a couple hours.
My foot nudged a snap trap on the ground beside a stack of tires and I wasn’t going to deny the relief that the mice were allowed to live without rules on the lower level of the barn, but there in the loft, traps had been set to keep them at bay. It was easy to accept the smell when your life depended on the place to stay.
Gunner, Brock, and Sara moved past me, each following Gunner’s example and wrapping two blankets around themselves as they settled on the floor behind the tires. If someone came up the stairs, they wouldn’t initially see us.
Gray moved toward the group with jerky movements. I had no doubt she was traumatized. There was a lot going on and even less time to understand it.
Her heady lidded gaze broke to me multiple times and I recognized the weak-defying set in her jaw as she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. I found it oddly comforting that she not only fought me, but everything in her life – including her exhaustion and mental state.
Before she could collapse, I stepped forward, wrapping my arm around her back and catching her arm with my other hand. I’d read her body language correctly as she slumped against my side. She shook with a different shiver than if she’d been cold. This shuddering was all-encompassing, ensnaring her soul and tightening around her all the way to her feet. I wished I could take her struggles from her; help relieve the pain she had to be going through. I couldn’t, but I wanted to.
Stooping, I bent down and scooped my arm under her knees, pulling her against my chest in a cradle hold. “Come on, I think you’re in shock.” My murmur wasn’t loud enough to reach the rest of the group which wouldn’t have mattered as Sara had slumped over in the corner, blankets pulled under her chin. Brock and Gunner had rolled up side by side facing away from each other as sleep had already claimed them.
I was the sober one which meant, I’d keep watch until they had all slept off some of the alcohol and exhaustion from the night’s excitement.
Tightening my fingers around Gray’s arm where I’d anchored my hold, I kicked a few of the last blankets to the side and shoved my back against the wall to slide down in a sitting position beneath the window and light.
With my knees drawn up, it was easier to hold Gray against me without dropping her to the floor.
The motion light shut off and the room was thrown into complete darkness. Gray mumbled something, reaching up and twisting her fingertips in the t-shirt material just below my collar. She curled into me, rocking to her side to face me. She lifted her head to rest her cheek on my chest.
Without over-analyzing anything too much, I reached to the side with the arm I’d had under her legs and yanked a blanket over the two of us, careful to make sure the dusty material didn’t get in her mouth or cover her pert nose. I carefully adjusted the blanket around us.
Had she changed the smell of her lotion or shampoo? I hadn’t been able to identify her scent completely past the fact that I was heartily addicted to whatever her scent happened to be.
Gray’s slight frame in my arms reminded me how strong she was for her size. She hadn’t moved me when she’d punched me the few times, but she hadn’t been easy to ignore either. If I hadn’t been prepared, things would ha
ve been different. I had no doubt she could drop a man, especially if she had the element of surprise.
What kind of a game was she caught up in?
Dominick wanted Gray for some reason I couldn’t identify – so much so that he had his whore after Gray’s dad.
The fact that the Russians were after Gray as well now just added more fuel to the fire. What could I do to help her? An absolute fact though was that I couldn’t turn Gray over to Dominick.
My cousins and I didn’t trust him. We wouldn’t ask Gray to go with him. For whatever reason, he had an interest in her and her father. I had to figure out what that was before I could move forward with any orders he’d given me.
Her lashes fluttered over her cheeks, casting a shadow in the moonlight shining through the clouds and window. She took a deep breath, her chest pushing against mine and not for the first time I noticed the swell of her breast and the heat in my skin at her contact.
I shifted her in my lap so she wouldn’t be aware of my longing while she was also traumatized – she’d killed a girl in the ring. I wasn’t sure how she’d ever want to fight again. The cops were after her and now they were after us. We had a lot to worry about. What I wanted to do to her physically wasn’t going to be added to the list. I didn’t even want to focus on the Russian mafia and all of the connotations associated with that group.
My eyes adjusted to the limited light and I watched out for my group, sparing a glance at my cousins, the friend, and the girl I couldn’t let go of.
Gray’s eyes opened and she shifted her eyes from my chest to my face and then over my shoulder. As if the realization came slowly that she rested in my arms, she blinked and then placed her palm flat against my chest. She pushed against me as if she wanted to sit up.
I shook my head, tightening my hold around her.
Widening her eyes, she opened her mouth as if to speak.
I lifted my finger and pressed it against her lips, trying not to notice the way the full flesh of her lower lip was warm and her breath hit my fingertip with heat that matched my lap.
Our gazes locked and I leaned my head down slowly until my mouth was near her ear. I snuck a glimpse of the rest of the group as they tried to sleep behind the protection of the tires and under cover of dark. I inhaled and closed my eyes, speaking softly. “Don’t freak out. You’re fine. We’re in the barn.”
She nodded and kept her voice low to match mine. “I passed out. I’m sorry. I… What are we going to do? Where are we going?” The fact that she even felt the need to apologize loosened another knot in my guard against her. The question she didn’t have to ask but that was glaringly obvious between us – were we safe?
“We only have a few hours until morning. Let’s worry about all of that then. Get some sleep. I won’t let anything happen to you or Sara.” She would worry about her friend. I knew that. One thing about Gray I couldn’t help respecting was the fact that she cared, deeply, about those that mattered to her. Even though she was a fighter, she had a tenderness in her heart for the underdog.
That matched everything our dads had ever taught us.
There was a code and even without knowing about it, Gray seemed to live it. Without trying, she fit in with us Jamesons more than she knew and more than I’d thought possible.
I didn’t lessen my hold around her as she seemed to accept what I offered – comfort without expectations, solace without explanation or questions. I offered the respite to both of us, surprised at how badly I wanted it.
Gray
Everywhere I touched Stryker, my skin burned. My exhaustion pulled me into sleep as I lay against him, but even in my dreams, I could feel the fire of our connection. Fighting it wasn’t an option. Not there. Not then. Even if I wanted to.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The hollow sound of a hand striking metal carried through the slatted walls of the barn. “Look at this, Smythe. There’s a black truck back here.”
My eyes popped open and I jerked upright. Stryker had his head angled to the side, watching from his spot through the window. He smoothed his hand down my back, starting between my shoulder blades and ending at my waist and then repeating the motion, up and down. He distracted me from the chaos outside and calming me enough I could actually focus on what was happening.
Movement from the side pulled my attention. I turned my head to the right, catching sight of Gunner as he stared at Stryker from where he’d slept, his eyes wide.
“Is it the cops?” Brock’s whisper spread across the loft floor like a portent of danger. Underlying tension sprang into full bloom and everyone shot up into positions of awareness.
Stryker nodded, letting me pull away to sit beside him. We all shifted to where we could see out the window, but stuck to the shadows.
An officer stood at the front of the barn with his hands on his hips while he stared past where we could see. He lifted his hand and motioned to someone outside of our view – as if motioning off-screen. Were we stuck in some kind of movie? The surreality of the situation added a sheen to my perception as if maybe we were stuck in some horrible B-rated movie.
Maybe the police weren’t there for me, or the truck, or the boys. Maybe they were there for something completely unrelated. I could dream, but that’s all it would be. They’d already identified a black truck as what they were looking for. Had they found us?
“Come on, we can’t do any searches without the property owner present. I want this done by the book. If I can catch the pissant who ruined the cruiser, I’m going full force on them. Everything I can put on them, I’m going to.” His hard voice snapped through the wood and walls, even muffled didn’t smother its command.
“Yes, sir. Do you want me to run up and knock?” The other officer came into view, walking slowly as if he didn’t want to get too close to the first cop.
Slapping his hands to his sides, the first cop sighed and turned, facing the rancher as he folded his arms across his chest. “He’ll be down. People in these parts don’t like law enforcement around their places.”
As if on cue, shouting from up the hill made them turn. We shifted our own gazes toward the house. A man in loose overalls over a white t-shirt and a red and black flannel shirt waved his hand while running down the path from the house. “Hey, stay out of there.”
As the man who must have been Tiny referenced on the sign got closer, I couldn’t help thinking there was nothing tiny about him. He stood an easy six inches above the taller deputy. His barrel-shaped chest didn’t stop there as his waist carried on the box-like form into solid thighs that could have been as wide as my hips. His forearms easily rivaled the size of his massive biceps.
The police were stupid to be there bothering him. We were even dumber, thinking we could hideout there and not get caught. I could feel our temporary safety slipping away like sand through my fingers.
“Is this your property, sir?” The lead cop pointed toward the sign at the top of the barn.
We edged back further from the window in case they caught a glimpse of us standing there. I glanced at Stryker and then pivoted to my side to glance worriedly at Sara. We had no idea how to get out of there or even where we were. We couldn’t escape, if we needed to.
“Yeah, you’re at Tiny’s. What do you want?” The man stopped in front of the cops, his legs wider than shoulder-width apart and his arms folded across his chest. His chin jutted to the side as he narrowed his eyes.
The second cop pointed toward the back. “Is that your truck back there? Do you know who the owner is?” He stepped forward as if he wasn’t intimidated by Tiny’s size. Directing his gaze up the height of Tiny, the cop stepped back and nodded. He glanced at the lead cop and shuffled his feet.
Tiny furrowed his brow and leaned his head to the side. “Truck?” He pursed his lips and ambled around the side of the barn, disappearing from view. “Are you talkin’ ‘bout the El Camino? Those aren’t trucks. They’re just cars that want to be trucks.” His words trailed off as he moved toward the b
ack, but that was only because he stopped talking, not because we couldn’t hear him.
I couldn’t breathe. I had no idea who this Tiny was and no idea what he would do when he saw the new truck back there amongst his other pieces of worthless vehicles. He would claim he didn’t know what the truck was doing back there and they’d search the barn.
Sweat slicked my palms and I desperately wished for something in my stomach so I could throw up.
The window opposite us had been opened by someone through the night, probably to help lessen the ammonia in the air around us. The sound of metal moving and a tarp being shifted and tugged reached us easily and we stared at the window like our hope would be transformed before our eyes.
After what felt like an eternity-and-a-half, Tiny returned to our view, shaking his head. “The Ford, yes. I wasn’t sure which one you were talking about. Yes, the ’57 has been here for a good eight months or so. I haven’t been able to get ahold of the owner. I’m not surprised though. The thing has been stubborn. I can’t get it to start.” He thrust his hands on his hips and stood there with a comfortable slant to his shoulders.
“It doesn’t start? I want to verify that.” The lead cop motioned for his partner and Tiny to precede him behind the barn.
They would give the motor a try. That would distract them for a few minutes. I whirled toward Stryker, keeping my voice low. “We need to get out of here.” My chest rose and fell. I had never longed for my own room so much.
Stryker watched me, his eyes dark charcoal from his normal lighter silver. Flicking his gaze toward his cousins, he nodded. “Okay, we can’t get out of here without them seeing us, but we can hide. I have no doubt they’re going to ask to search the barn.”
Sara reached out and grabbed my hand, her grip worried and tight with warnings.
We were going to hide? What options did we have? The barn wasn’t exactly teeming with great hiding places.
Her Brawlers: A high school bully romance (Bad Boys of Jameson High Book 2) Page 2