Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3)

by Cynthia Rayne

  She swallowed. “No.”

  “Did you have a rape kit done?”

  Her mouth was dry. “No.”

  “It’s my word against yours then, and I have evidence both of you broke into my home tonight, dressed in fatigues, with weapons, no less.”

  “What do you want?” Even though Rose asked the question, she already knew the answer.

  His voice became silky. “I want you to come with me, and we’ll go far, far away from this place. In return, your convicted felon friend can walk away. What do you think?”

  She shivered. God, why couldn’t he let it go?

  “I think you can fuck off. There’s no way Rose is making the deal.” Duke stepped forward.

  Kent got in her space, shoulders back, chest out. “Oh, I think she will. Rose can be very reasonable, especially when she knows she’s been beaten.”

  “Yeah, but I doubt you’ll be seein’ the sunrise.” Duke scanned the room. Rose knew he was trying to figure a way out of this. “Dead men don’t make deals.”

  “And I think you’re forgetting something. Texas has a three strikes law, and this would be your third strike. The statute was created to punish prior and persistent offenders like you. That means twenty-five to life if you’re convicted, and you were caught red-handed—even a law student could get a guilty verdict in this case.”

  Life in prison? She couldn’t let Duke go to back to jail.

  He’d protected her, trained her, and taken care of her. He’d helped her to piece herself back together again—made her whole once more. She wouldn’t let him pay the price for her failure. They should never have come here tonight—and it was all her fault they were in this predicament.

  “I’ll do it.” Somehow Rose got the words out.

  “The hell you will. We’ll find another way.” Duke shook his head.

  “I told you she was reasonable.”

  “No, I can’t let this happen. I won’t.”

  “I don’t see any other way around it.” She couldn’t even look at Duke.

  “Yeah? Well, I do.” Duke rushed Kent.

  The guard fired off a shot, hitting Duke square in the ass. With an agonized grunt, Duke fell to the ground, blood gushing from the wound. It stained the back of his pants.

  “Duke, no!”

  Rose fell to her knees, pulled off her hoodie, and pressed the fabric against the wound. There was so much blood it soaked right through the cotton.

  It didn’t even deter Duke. “Touch her and I’ll kill you.”

  Kent sighed as though bored. “Can you take care of this?” Kent gestured to the guard. “I have a dinner to make.”

  Lester shot forward, leaning over Duke, but the biker hastily dragged a knife from his pocket and sliced the back of the guard’s leg.

  He howled in pain as blood soaked the bottom of his pant leg.

  “I opened your anterior tibial artery,” Duke said with a feral smile. “You’ll bleed out before you reach the hospital.”

  Lester smashed the butt of his shotgun into the back of Duke’s head, knocking him out. Then the guard collapsed to the hardwood floor.

  “Boss, I need an ambulance, I’m hurt bad.”

  Rose focused on Duke. She clutched at his shoulders. “Duke! Wake up!” She pressed her fingertips to his wrist and detected a pulse. Rose sagged in relief—he was unconscious, not dead.

  “I’m sorry, but an injury like yours would be reported to the police,” Kent said to Lester. He slid a hand in the guard’s pocket to retrieve Duke’s gun. Before the man could react, Kent shot him in the head.

  Shuddering, Rose wrapped herself protectively around Duke, afraid the lawyer would finish him off.

  Kent clucked his tongue as he tossed the gun on the couch.

  “Well, that was unpleasant.” He held out his hand. “Let go of the biker, my dear. He’s no longer your concern.”

  She slapped his hand away.

  “Duke? Duke? Answer me, please.” She cupped his face in her bloodied hands, but he didn’t respond. “Please?”

  “Come here.” Kent hauled her to her feet. “Enough of this. You’ve gotten yourself dirty.”

  “Get away from me.” She pushed at his chest.

  He tried to force the issue, but she fended him off. “Are you trying to make me angry?” He lazily rested a hand on his leather belt, a very thinly veiled threat. “You remember what happens when I get upset.”

  She couldn’t care less about his ‘punishments’. Rose needed to know something very important.

  “Are you going to shoot Duke?”

  “Why would I? He’s my insurance policy. You’ll be a good girl as long as there’s a chance to save him.”

  Kent was absolutely right.

  “Let me see to his injuries, then.”

  “I’m the only man you need to please.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Please?”

  He grinned. “Oh, I love it when you beg. And what will you give me if I let you?”

  The concept of common human decency was lost on Kent. She did a quick once-over, assessing Duke’s injuries. She needed to staunch the wound, or he would bleed out. Nothing mattered more than Duke’s life.

  “Anything you want.”

  “I want everything.” He paused to think about it for a moment. “Fair enough. I agree to your proposal.”

  Rose released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  Kent grabbed the shotgun, knife, and pistol. “I’ll get you some first aid supplies so you can patch up the felon. Then you’ll go upstairs and get yourself cleaned up. We’re going to have a romantic meal.”

  Ignoring his crazy talk, Rose reapplied pressure to Duke’s injury, willing the bleeding to slow.

  After Kent returned with a first aid kid, he announced, “We’ll be dining in thirty minutes. You won’t like what happens if you keep me waiting.”

  She didn’t even bother glancing up at him. After a long moment, he walked into the kitchen, weapons in hand.

  Kent didn’t know it yet, but this would be the last meal he ever prepared.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, Rose walked into the dining room.

  In his madness, Kent thought they were having a date night. He’d laid out only the finest—his prized vintage china along with pearl-handled cutlery, and he’d lit the candles in his crystal candelabra. Rose knew he considered her another object or possession in his collection of valuable things—like that godawful Odalisque painting or one of his first-edition books.

  Kent rimmed his lips with his tongue—a move like that used to fill her with fear. The only thing she dreaded now was losing Duke.

  From the doorway, she could see into the living room. Kent had draped a sheet over the guard. Duke was propped up on pillows, lying on his stomach where she’d left him. Still out cold. She’d treated his injuries as best she could. After she stemmed the bleeding, she covered the wound with gauze and taped it up, but the pellets from the shotgun shell needed to be dug out of his backside. Luckily, Lester hadn’t nicked any arteries or veins, and the blood had slowed to a trickle.

  Duke didn’t have much time now. “He needs a doctor.”

  “Now, now, let’s not talk about such ugliness. I’ve made a wonderful dinner. I wanted to welcome you home in style.” He placed a piece of salmon on a plate for her, along with a couple spoonfuls of rice pilaf. He tried to hand it to her, but she refused to take it.

  “I’m not hungry. What about Duke?”

  Kent sighed. “We’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning. If your biker friend is lucky enough to live through the night, you can text one of his club members to get him. Sound fair?”

  “No, he needs help now.”

  His eyes turned cold. “I could put a bullet in his head if you keep pestering me.” He sank into a chair and tossed her plate down on the table.

  She’d had enough—it was time to end this.

  Rose had been contemplating this moment for months now, fanta
sizing about it. She noticed a silver serving knife next to a platter, and her fingers itched to grab it. Like everything Kent owned, it was mostly decorative, but the tip was sharp, and she could jam it somewhere vulnerable. Rose had to choose the right place—maybe in his carotid artery. Duke had once told her a person would bleed out in minutes from that kind of injury.

  She met Kent’s gaze. “I want you to remember something. I tried to let this go, but you wouldn’t give up. You brought this on yourself.”

  His smile was pure insanity. “I love you. I couldn’t give up on you, on us.”

  Rose straddled his lap, and his erection pressed against her ass. Rose wanted him aroused, distracted.

  “You think this sick, and perverted thing is love?”

  He searched her face. “You love me, but you can’t admit it.”

  Rose seized the back of his hair, gripping it tight. She wanted to rip it out from the roots.

  “You have a fixation, but it isn’t love.”

  “Stop lying.”

  She yanked his hair harder.

  “See, you like it rough, even though you pretended to cry afterward. Is that how the biker screwed you, Goldilocks?” Kent wrapped his fingers around her wrists, keeping her from tearing his hair out by the roots.

  “Never call me that again.”

  “You protested at first, but you came for me again and again. You wanted it. Wanted me. Stop denying it.” He pushed on her forearms, thrusting her backward, wrenching her fingers from his hair. She noted with satisfaction she’d pulled out quite a few strands. Rose wished she could rip it all out.

  She was still on his lap, and she got in his face. “You raped me.” It felt good to look him in the eye and accuse him—to put the blame where it belonged.

  Kent flinched.

  “I used to plead with you to stop. You drugged me, chained me up, caged me, and beat me to make me submit.” She sneered. “What does that tell you?”

  “You’re mine.”

  “You don’t own me. You never did, despite that slave contract you forced me to sign.”

  His patrician features tightened, frigid eyes blazing with a cold fire.

  “You love the big, dumb biker? Is that it?”

  A smile spread across her face.

  “Yeah, I’m in love with him, but I’ve been too afraid to tell him.”

  Nothing like confronting death at the hands of a madman to bring things into focus. Kent had become an obstacle, the one thing standing between her and the man she loved.

  Kent slapped her, and her lip split against her teeth. She swiped at her mouth, and her fingers came away bloody, but she didn’t flinch or cower. She let it fuel her rage—just like Duke had taught her.

  Rose stood and put a couple feet between them. Room to move.

  “It’s time.” Rose grasped the knife.

  “You’re going to slice me open, eh? You used to be so unsure of yourself. Eyes downcast, cowering, always submitting to my every whim.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Kent got up and approached her but kept his movements slow, his hands raised.

  “You’re so much like your sister. I get to break you all over again.” He lunged, tossing her on the table, sending plates and food splattering to the floor. “It’ll take weeks. I’ll have to cage you again, wear you down.” His cock pressed against her leg, thick and eager.

  She wanted to cut if off.

  Rose planted a foot in his chest and thrust him backward, then slid off the table.

  “Come here, Goldilocks.” He crooked a finger.

  She tossed her dark hair back. “She’s gone. You killed that girl.” She meant it. She’d been slowly patching herself back together, but she wouldn’t be the same person. And now she was made of stronger stuff.

  “Don’t be melodramatic. I’ll find Goldilocks again—I’ll dye your hair and make you my good little girl once more.”

  She reared back. “I’d rather die. Actually, I’d rather you do the dying.”

  Kent sprang on her, and they crashed to the floor. Rose landed on her back, and Kent straddled her, placing his hands around her throat. The knife had been knocked out of her hand and lay about a foot away. She tried to grasp the handle, but it lay just out of her reach.

  Kent squeezed her throat. “Are you going to behave?”

  “Yes,” she croaked, desperate for breath.

  Kent relaxed his hold, and she sucked in air. Then he fit his mouth to hers, ran his tongue over the seam of her closed lips—tasting her blood.

  She refused to open for him. Rose wouldn’t give him entrance to her body.

  Not again. Never again.

  “Kiss me. Tell me how sorry you are for upsetting me, for letting another man touch what belongs to me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rose edged further to her left.

  He closed his eyes, savoring his victory. “Such a good girl.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner, you bastard!”

  Rose seized the knife and plunged the sharp tip deep into his neck—warm, dense blood came spurting out, covering them both.

  Kent bellowed in pain like an injured animal, and she scrambled out from beneath him. He rolled onto his back and clutched his throat, trying to staunch the bleeding, but it was impossible.

  With every heartbeat, more blood surged from the wound.

  “I love you, Goldilocks.” Blood spurted from his mouth.

  “Didn’t anyone tell you? Love hurts, sweetheart.”

  Rose stood over him and watched him bleed out. Until he laid there at her feet—lifeless.

  Blood dripped from her clothes, her hands. She’d expected to be upset, anxious, but she wasn’t.

  No, Rose felt good. Strong. Sort of a high, really. That should probably concern her, but it didn’t. Rose was finally free.

  Kent would never get his hands on her again.

  “Firecracker?” Duke called from the other room.

  He was awake! She ran to him and hit her knees.

  Duke still slumped over the pillows. With a groan, he touched the back of his head.

  “Fuck that hurts.”

  “What do you remember?” Rose worried he might have a concussion in addition to his gunshot wound.

  “Gettin’ shot in the ass and then not a damn thing. What’d I miss? And where the fuck is Kent?” Then he took a good look at her bloodied clothing. “He’s dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “You killed him.”

  “I did.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “I feel pretty damn good.”

  His smile held a touch of sadness. “I thought so.”

  Their gazes locked and his eyes were somber.

  Duke cleared his throat and gestured to the sheet draped over Lester.

  “Did Kent kill the guard?”

  “Yeah.”

  He lurched to his feet. “Shit. I wanted to shoot the bastard.” Duke groaned as he clutched his hip. “Shot in the motherfucking ass—I’ll never live this down.” He explored the wound with tentative fingers. “Looks like it missed everything important.” He turned to her. “Did you stop the bleeding?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good job.”

  “Thanks.” That was high praise from someone with medical training.

  “You gonna be okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine once they dig the bullet fragments out. My pride’s on the critical list, though.”

  She knew this probably wasn’t the right time, but she had to ask. “Duke? Are you disappointed in me?”

  “Never. I wanted something better, something easier for you, but that’s not how this played out. You did what had to be done.” A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Now you’re livin’ on the dark side with me.”

  “That isn’t so bad, is it?”

  He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “It has pros and cons like everything else, but I think you might be a natural.” He surveyed the mess in the living room. “W
e need to clean this up. Fast. What’s first?”

  “Wash the blood off so I don’t spread the DNA everywhere.”

  “Good call. And then?”

  “Get his wallet and phone.”

  “Right. We’ll have Coyote use his computer mojo to create a trail down to Mexico for Kent and the guard. So let’s get started.”

  After washing up, she patted Kent down to find his cell phone and identification. Eventually, she found them both in his back pocket.

  “Our next step is to call Shep,” Duke instructed.

  Rose used her cell to dial Shepherd.

  He answered immediately. “What’s going on?”

  “I took care of a… problem,” she said, unsure how much she should divulge on an open phone line.

  There was a pause on the line. “I see. Duke with you?”

  “Yeah, he’s injured and needs some medical attention.”

  “We got a friendly doc in town. Ain’t as good as Duke, but he can do the job. You need help spring-cleanin’ this problem away?”

  “God, yes.”

  “We’ll take care of it. I’ll be sendin’ over a crew. What’s the address?”

  “Coyote has it.”

  The phone line crackled. “Sit tight. We’ll be there in a few.”

  After she hung up with Shep, Duke searched through the cabinets in the kitchen until he found a bottle of tequila, which he drank straight out of the bottle.

  After a few minutes, he sighed in relief. “Fuck, I needed that.”

  Duke found a bottle of cleanser and paper towels, then wiped down surfaces they might’ve touched while Rose scooped up the food and threw away the broken dishes. They’d take the garbage with them when they left.

  “What about the bodies?”

  “We got a special spot for those.”

  “Let me guess. The location is on a need-to-know basis.”

  Duke nodded.

  “And all the blood?” she asked.

  “I have some hospital-grade cleansers that should do the trick.”

  Rose guessed she shouldn’t be surprised the brothers had handled this type of thing before.

  They had a body count.

  And now, so did she.

  ***

  After they’d cleaned what they could, Duke grabbed Rose’s hand and pulled her onto the veranda behind Kent’s place. It was dark, so no one would see them. Besides, Kent had deliberately chosen a place in the boonies. The nearest neighbor wasn’t for miles.