Stone Deep: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Stone Brothers Book 3)

by Tess Oliver

  A simultaneous gasp sucked the air in the room silent. Only the jukebox was still cranking along with a Johnny Cash tune. All eyes were on the girl. That’s when I saw the glint of a gun barrel under the copper pendant light dangling overhead.

  “Shit, the wingless pixie has a gun,” Cleveland muttered. The other patrons ducked for cover, and full shocked silence extinguished all the energy from the room. The three assholes who had been loud and annoying were now frozen in fear. She’d picked one of the guys, in particular. He was a big dude with a shaved head and a beard. He leaned back hard against the seat of the booth as if that could get him out of the gun’s path.

  “Where is he?” she said sharply. There was a slightly raspy sound to her small voice, a little honey mixed with sand, and, warped asshole that I was, I couldn’t help thinking how good that gritty voice would sound in the heat of a good fuck.

  The guy put up his hand. “Look, Brit, I don’t know where the hell Damon is. I haven’t seen him since Perris died. I’ve got nothing to do with this.”

  She pressed her second hand against the gun in an attempt to make it look as if she was serious about shooting the guy, but I’d glimpsed a tremble in her gun arm. She was using the second hand for support. “You’re lying, you asshole. Just tell me where the hell he is, and I won’t shoot you in the face.” She stepped closer, and the guy’s eyes bulged.

  The other patrons had all ducked behind chairs and tables and corners to watch from a safe distance. The jukebox was between songs and you could just about hear everyone’s heartbeats in the dead quiet of the room. Cleveland and I watched from our table as if we were watching a movie.

  She pushed the gun even closer to his face.

  “You crazy, fucking bitch, get that thing away from me. You’re not going to shoot me.”

  “Try me.” I heard the gun cock.

  The guy’s face went white. I’d been busy watching the girl with the gun and hadn’t noticed that one of his buddies was diving from his chair. He outweighed the girl by a good hundred pounds, but he still tackled her like they were on a football field. The gun flew out of her hand. She moaned in pain as her body slammed against the floor. The tackler landed directly on top of her. He pushed to his feet, and the guy she’d had the gun pointed at flew out of his seat and grabbed the back of her sweatshirt.

  I was out of my chair and across the room before my head had even told me to move.

  She screamed and pummeled his arm as it tightened around her waist. As he lifted his hand to hit her, my fist plowed into his face. He dropped the girl and fell back hard. The tackler came at me. I kicked my leg out, hitting him squarely in the knee. As the third friend tried to get up from the table, I jammed the table edge into his chest.

  I’d rendered all three off balance, but I knew it would be short-lived. I swung around and took hold of the girl’s hand and dragged her through the bar.

  “Let me go,” she cried and yanked her hand free. She flew back in the direction of the three guys, who were just recovering and now looked far more pissed at me than the girl.

  I lunged forward and wrapped my arm around her waist. “Come on, Annie Oakley, we’ve got to get you out of here.” She struggled in my arms as I slung her over my shoulder. From the corner of my eye I could see Cleveland lifting his hands in question as I carried her out the door.

  She pounded my back soundly as I carried her into the dark parking lot. “Put me down. I’m not going back in there. I promise.”

  I lowered her feet to the ground. She ran toward the three motorcycles parked next to each other in front of the bar. “Assholes!” she screamed as she shoved the first bike. It tipped over, and, in a classic domino effect, the others followed.

  The door to the bar flew open. I raced to her and, once again, grabbed her hand. “All right, hot-tempered Tinkerbell, you’ve made your point, and I’m not in the mood to take on three guys at once. I came with a friend. Where’s your car? Please tell me you didn’t fucking walk here with that loaded gun.”

  Loud footsteps pounded the asphalt behind us. She glanced back. “Shit, they look really pissed.”

  “Yep. Putting a gun in a man’s face will do that.”

  “This way.” Now she was pulling me. Her little Subaru was sitting at the far end of the lot. Our three friends had already righted their bikes, and they were firing up the motors. We reached her car.

  “Is this a five speed with some kick?” I asked about her car.

  “Yep.”

  “Cool. Give me the keys.”

  She paused.

  “Hurry up.”

  She tossed me the keys, and we climbed inside. I threw it into first and left behind some rubber as we took off toward the highway.

  She looked back. “They’re following.”

  “Thought they might.” As I drove up the onramp, an eighteen wheeler was rumbling along in the slow lane. I pressed my foot on the pedal and nodded with approval. “Nice. Never driven one of these. Hold on.” I raced ahead and slipped in front of the truck just as the yield lane ended. I glanced up in the rearview mirror. The three headlights disappeared behind the truck. I zigzagged around the cars until it seemed we’d lost our triple-eyed tail.

  The girl faced the front, leaned back and crossed her arms. “I could have driven.”

  “I know. I’ve just always wanted to drive one of these. Too bad it’s not raining. I could try out a few of my drifting moves.” I smiled at her.

  She didn’t smile in return. She blinked her big, fawn eyes at me. One small, very bitable ear had no elfin point but there was a long row of tiny gold hoops running down it.

  “Some people would consider thanking me for saving them from three big bullies.”

  She shrugged. “Some people might, but I was on a mission and you fucked it all up.”

  “If your mission was to get pummeled by a guy who outweighed you by about a hundred pounds, then you almost succeeded. You were looking for the dude’s brother?”

  “Yep.” She pulled her feet up, jammed her purple high-top sneakers onto the seat and hugged her knees to her chest. Her heels moved up and down nervously as if sitting still wasn’t an option.

  “You’re a little wound up,” I said. “Are you high on something?”

  She grunted at the insult and reached down into the console. She pulled out a big can of energy drink. It was empty.

  “Ah yes, I guess a big can like that going into a little person like you would cause some nervous energy.”

  She squeezed her legs again. Her knees stuck out through the holes in her faded jeans. “I drank two.”

  “Damn. Those little legs must be hollow.” My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it out of my pocket. “Hey, Cleveland,”

  “Stone, what the hell? Where are you?”

  “Uh, we’re heading down the highway right now. Don’t worry about me. I’ll hitch a ride back home or something.”

  “Hell’s fucking fire, Stone, you are something else. Gotta say, you flew so fast across that barroom when they grabbed her, I didn’t even see you move.”

  “Yep, that’s why they call me Bolt. I move like fucking lighting.”

  “Who calls you that?” Cleveland asked.

  “Well, no one yet, but I keep throwing it out there hoping it’ll stick. Listen, Cleve, I see the bikes are gaining on us, so I’ll see you Monday.”

  A headlight flashed in the side view mirror. I leaned my head to the side to get a better look.

  My caffeine pumped passenger wriggled in her seat. “I will probably have to pee soon.”

  “Two cans? I’d say so. Hold on, Tink, our friends are back.”

  She looked back over the seat. “God, what stubborn fucking buttheads. The damn gun wasn’t even real.”

  I laughed. “Looked pretty fucking convin
cing clutched in those shaky fingers of yours.”

  I sped up and dashed in front of a minivan that was moving along at a good clip in the fast lane. The three bikes pulled up next to us. The guy in front had a side view mirror that was dangling and flopping in the breeze like a chrome colored flag.

  “Ha! I broke the jerk’s mirror.” My daring sidekick rolled down her window, stuck out her hand and raised her middle finger at the guy. She sat back and rolled up the window. “Damn, it’s cold out there. I’ve got a motel room off the Tatter Lane exit. You can take me there.”

  “I’ve got to lose these guys first. Otherwise, all we did was postpone the fight.” I headed to the next exit.

  She looked over at me. “But the motel is still a few miles ahead.”

  “Yeah, I know. But there is a sweetly curved stretch of coastal highway off this exit, and I wanted to see how this baby handled.”

  “Seriously? We’re taking a detour so you can play race car driver?”

  “Race car driver? I like the sound of that.”

  She glanced back. “They are following us.”

  I pushed in the clutch and shoved it into fourth. “Then, my pretty little accomplice, I guess it’s a good thing I have a plan.”

  Chapter 4

  Britton

  My heart was racing. It could have been because I’d chugged the heavily caffeinated drinks or because a complete stranger, albeit an extremely hot and ridiculously confident stranger, was racing my car along the winding coastal highway. Or it could have been that I was still pumped up about what I’d done. It hadn’t gotten me any closer to Damon, but it had felt good to scare the crap out of his creepy brother, Kyle, for a few seconds.

  Kyle and his thickheaded lackeys were still tailing us. I looked at the guy behind the steering wheel of the car. Oddly enough, he seemed to be enjoying himself. “Sorry I got you involved in this. I’m Britton, by the way.”

  “Slade.” His extremely green eyes kept shifting from the rearview to the side view. “And, technically, I got myself involved.” He put his hand on the shifter. “We’re about to hit the one straight stretch of highway. If the other side is clear, I’m going for it.”

  “Going for what?” I asked just as his foot pressed down on the clutch. My body was tossed back against the seat as the car shot forward. My fingers grabbed the edge of my seat as he swerved into the opposite lane and passed a truck and two cars before slicing back into the lane. The motorcycles were left behind.

  “Ha!” He smacked the steering wheel. “I really need to get me one of these. Where did you get this one?”

  I turned and glanced out the window. The sea looked rough and impatient as white, foamy crests rolled in toward the rocks. “It’s my sister’s car.”

  “She’s got good taste in cars.”

  “She’s dead.”

  He grew quiet. “Sorry.”

  “That’s all right. You didn’t know. There’s the motel across the highway.” I looked back over the seat. “I don’t see them anymore. Guess it’s good I handed my keys over to Bolt, the race car driver.”

  His smile added two thin lines next to his mouth. “See? Bolt, it works, right?”

  “My god, is there anyone more cocky on this whole planet?”

  “Actually, yes. I have two brothers.”

  I pointed to the parking lot entrance. The ‘no vacancy’ light was flashing, but there were only three other cars parked in front of the shabby, pale pink motel.

  “Let’s see if there’s any place to park behind the building.” He drove the car to the end and maneuvered between the trash bin and the last room. A small open space covered by weeds and trash that had blown from the dumpster was just big enough for my car. He parked.

  I looked around. We were hidden from the road. “Very smart. Hopefully, the manager won’t have it towed. I looked over at him. He filled up the front of the little car with his broad shoulders and big arms. He had a lot of tattoos and looked like a guy who’d done plenty of sketchy things in his short life. There was no way to deny that he was incredible to look at. “I’m guessing from the way you handled all three guys at the bar, and the way you managed to out maneuver them on the road, that you’ve done something like this before.”

  “What? You mean carry a hotheaded, gun-wielding girl from a crowded bar? Every other night.” He turned off the engine and handed me the keys. “Sweet ride. I’ll walk you to your door and make sure you get inside.”

  “Do you live nearby? How are you getting home?”

  “I live about six miles south. I’ll figure a way home.”

  We stepped out of the car. A lacy fog was beginning to drift onshore. Even though Slade looked like the kind of guy who could handle just about any hazard standing in his way, a walk along the highway in fog made anyone, even a tall, hunky man, completely mortal.

  “I feel bad leaving you stranded.” Everything in my life had been peeling off in crazy ass directions, and tonight, I’d pulled something completely bonkers. It hadn’t gotten me very far but it’d felt damn good, almost therapeutic. Now I was amped up on caffeine and being walked to my sleazy motel room door by what had to be one of the hottest men I’d ever met, and suddenly, it seemed completely appropriate to continue on the same, absolutely wild, totally careless path.

  I fished for the key in my pocket and turned back toward Slade. A layer of coastal mist floated past his face. With his deep green eyes, he looked a little out of this world, like the devil himself had sent one of his men down to walk me to my room.

  “So, I was thinking—” I looked back at the pink door with the number six on it. “I believe that when you’re staying in a cheap motel on the interstate, you’re required to have tawdry, uninhibited sex with some secret lover or a stranger or”—I waved my arm in front of him—“or your partner in crime.”

  His brow lifted. “I like where this is going.”

  “And since I’m completely hyped up on caffeine or whatever the hell rocket fuel they put in those damn energy drinks, and since I probably won’t be able to sleep for hours, and since the room is just a little too small for pacing properly and since I’m standing here with this—” Again, I waved my arm in front of him.

  “This?” he asked.

  “You know, really hot guy with the muscles and the ink and the cocky confidence, and, damn—you took on three guys at once with the ease that a mortal man takes on swatting a fly.” I was rambling and I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. It had been that kind of a night. Hell, it had been that kind of a year. “Anyhow, you look like you might be—how should I put it—?”

  “Skilled with the ladies?” he added.

  “Yes. Eloquently put, by the way, because I was going to say a fun fuck.”

  He gazed down at me looking a little baffled.

  The confidence this crazy night had given me suddenly vanished. “Of course, if you don’t want—”

  Before I could finish, he had me in his grip and pushed up against the warped room six door. His mouth covered mine, and as his kiss deepened, my body felt more and more relaxed in his arms. He was a complete stranger. All he’d done was take hold of my waist, press his hard body against mine and kiss me, but I’d never felt so completely comfortable and ready in my life. It was the rush of the crazy night, I told myself. It couldn’t be anything else.

  “Key?” His deep voice floated through the delirium he’d already kicked up in my head.

  Not completely convinced I could manage to fit it into the lock, I held the key up to him. His tongue still stroked my lips as he reached one hand forward, and, without even looking at it, unlocked the door.

  I stumbled back as the door flung open. He grabbed me to keep me from falling onto my butt and shut the door with his foot. His hand reached back and flicked on the light. It cast a fluore
scent yellow glow over the shabbily decorated room.

  He hadn’t missed a stroke. His mouth covered mine as he reached down and took hold of my sweatshirt. Our mouths parted long enough for him to sweep my sweatshirt and the shirt beneath up and off in one fluid movement. I could hardly catch my breath between kisses. When he yanked off his shirt, I felt nearly dizzy with desire. I couldn’t ever remember wanting someone as badly.

  “Jeez,” I muttered on a long sigh. “Are you for real?”

  His hands took hold of my waist, and he stared down as his fingers encircled me completely. “Funny, my hot little pixie, I was just thinking the same thing about you. What fucking enchanted forest did you float out of, cuz I’m starting to believe in little winged people.”

  I smiled. “I was only a pound and a half when I was born. I guess my mom could have kept me under a toadstool if she’d wanted. Fortunately, she didn’t.”

  His fingers reached up, and he slid my bra straps down my shoulders, exposing my naked breasts to his gaze. Warm moisture pooled in my pussy as he smiled admiringly at them.

  “Tiny or not, these pretty tits are more than enough.” He rubbed his thumb over my taut nipple. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck. Something about him made me want to forget anything that troubled me and throw all caution and reason and rational thought to the wind.

  I hopped up on my tiptoes and kissed his neck. He smelled of soap and beer and sex, and my senses were running on overload. My skin warmed instantly as his hands caressed my back. He dragged his hand around my waist and found the button on my jeans. This was really happening. Physically, there was just no way I could stop in the middle of this now. I wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of standing in a cheap motel room with a completely intoxicating stranger or if it had just been so long since I’d felt like this, but there was no way I could back out now.

  A sobering thought occurred to me as he unzipped my pants.