“Why haven’t you told him?” I press.
Thorne sighs, mindlessly swiveling in her chair. “You know how he is. He isn’t into family. When I found out about him, I came to tell him, and when I started talking about family to lead up to telling him, he told me that family meant nothing to him. That it’s a bullshit pretend bond people lean on to make excuses for their lives. He really didn’t leave much of an opening, and it kind of never came up again.”
“And you want to mean something to him,” I realize out loud.
She smiles. “I did. And I do.”
“Weren’t you worried that he’d be attracted to you? Try something with you?” I ask, curious. She’s a beautiful girl, and Pike…well, he’s Pike. My stomach twists with regret and pain at what I’ve done and what I’ve yet to do.
Her eyes widen. “Um. Ew. No,” she says, but then sighs when I don’t accept her simple answer. “There is no attraction between us, and I know he feels it, too, but just in case, I had a contingency plan.”
“Which was?”
She smiles brightly. “I told him I was a lesbian. And while I do have a roommate, she’s my best friend, but she plays the part well when he’s around.”
I laugh. “Ah, good call.”
She looks me over. “You know, we aren’t that different. We both want to be a part of his life, but telling him how much he really means to us could destroy everything.”
“But I—”
My protest is cut off by the bells above the door ring.
“Saved by the bells,” Thorne says, pushing past me into the pawn shop. “See ya later. Gotta take care of this electric bullshit. See if it’s ever going to come back on.” She looks back at me. “For what it’s worth, I never thought you were a racist, which is why I didn’t tell Pike about the mark the first night I saw it.”
She walks into the other room, leaving me in a state of shock.
She knew. This entire time, Thorne knew.
I head back up the stairs, sparing one more glance for Thorne who's conversing with an electrician in a hard hat, carrying a clipboard. She’s the first person in years I would consider a friend. I’m going to miss her more than I want to admit to myself.
Goodbye, Thorne
On my way back up the stairs, I’m surprised to hear noise from a room I assumed was storage. The door is cracked, so I listen. “The trade goes down two days from today at the warehouse in Coral Pines,” I hear Pike say.
“The girl for a truce?” I recognize the voice as King.
“That’s what Darius agreed to,” Pike answers, as my heart breaks wide open in my chest. It’s only partially because he’s so willing to trade me because my logical side should have seen that coming, but it’s because he thinks that Darius Alban would actually agree to a truce when I know in my heart it will be an ambush.
“I’ll call the boys. We’ll all be waiting there for them. They’ll get what’s coming to them, and The Fourth Reich will be a distant memory in Logan’s Beach come Saturday fucking morning,” King says.
Apparently, they’re planning an ambush of their own.
I can’t let this happen. I can’t let more people die. I have to get back to the Fourth Reich and press fast forward on my plans.
I pad over to the apartment and enter Pike’s room without so much as making the door creek. I rush over to the safe that’s acting as a nightstand, and I get to work on cracking it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mickey
“I know you heard us, and it’s not what you think!” Pike angrily calls from the other side of the locked door.
It’s exactly what I think. They’re about to go get themselves killed although he thinks I’ve barricaded myself in his room because I heard him talking about trading me when really, I’m just buying myself some time.
Finally, on the three thousandth try, the safe opens, and what I need is right there on the first shelf beside a stack of cash. I leave the cash, but take the gun. I check to make sure it’s loaded.
It is.
I push myself into the furthest corner of the room.
“I know you have my fucking gun. You may be smart, but I’m not fucking stupid. Cameras, remember? If you think you’re leaving with it or at all, you’re fucking wrong.” He pounds against it again. “Open the goddamn door, Mic!” he yells. The anger and hurt in his voice pierce my chest, and I feel it as if it’s my own.
For a few seconds, I think he’s left because I hear nothing but the sound of my own rapid breathing. Until the door smashes in, pushing the dresser I’d placed in front of it just enough to create a small path.
Pike’s massive body stands in the shadowy doorway, his anger radiating off of him like toxic chemicals rising into the air.
I hold my breath and steel my nerves. Pike steps in, bare-chested and glistening with sweat. His jeans are undone and low on his waist, exposing the band of his black boxer briefs.
I raise the gun in both hands, aiming it at his chest. "I have to go. You can't stop me," I say, with all the resolve I have left. “You’re going to trade me and ambush them, but don’t you think they have the same plans for you? I have to go, and that way, less people will die. YOU won’t die. So, just let me leave. I have a plan. It will work. I’ll take them down for both of us.”
“No.” Pike looks from me to the gun. "And as I’ve told you before, you're not going anywhere." His words are dark and menacing. An amused smile turns up the corners of his lips.
It's infuriating. He's infuriating.
I straighten my shoulders. "What's so funny?" I ask, swallowing down the rising fear in my throat. I remind myself of one important fact to keep from choking on that fear.
I'm the one holding the gun.
Instead of freezing or retreating as one would do in this situation, Pike takes a bold step forward, catching me off guard. I stagger backward, but I'm not fast enough. He reaches out, and at first, I think he's going for the weapon, but he doesn't. He confuses me as he wraps his hands around mine, tightening my grip around the gun. He lifts my hands and bends slightly at the waist, forcefully pressing the barrel against his forehead. "You wanna shoot me, Mic? Then, fucking shoot me," he dares, with wild blood shoot eyes.
My mouth drops open, but words don't come out. I expected Pike to defend himself. To come at me. To step aside and let me leave, even though it was the least possible of all the outcomes. I didn't plan for this.
I can do this. I have to do this.
"Not what you were expecting?" His tone is both mocking and rage-filled. "I know what that pretty brain of yours is thinking. You want me to attack you and make pulling the trigger easier on that conscious of yours." He bites out a laugh. "Not gonna happen. If you want to do this, I'm not going to stand in your way, but you're not fucking leaving either. So, come on. Shoot me. Go ahead. Do what you planned to do." His eyes narrow with determination. My hands shake in his. "Pull the fucking trigger!"
The air around us is thick and charged. My skin breaks out in a sheen of sweat. My adrenaline spikes, and I feel all too alert. Too aware of what's taking place between us.
I grip the gun tighter and gaze into his dark eyes, his pupils are large and covering every hint of color within them. Behind the anger and determination, there's something else that I didn't expect. Something that I'm all too familiar with. Hurt. Pain that mirrors my own. Desperation that calls out to me like a piece of my soul trapped within Pike.
"Shoot me!" he cries, his face red with anger, teeth bared like a wild animal. "Fucking shoot me!"
With those words, my fiery resolve dissolves into ash.
I step back, needing to put some distance between us, but Pike doesn't have the same thought. He follows me backward, keeping his grip tight on my hands and the gun between them.
"I…I can't do this," I whisper, releasing my grip on the gun.
Pike releases his hold on me, catching the gun before it can fall to the floor.
Shit.
I look to th
e window, but it's too high, and Pike is directly in front of the only door. There's no escape. So much for being brave. Instead, I've signed my own death warrant. My heart races erratically with the realization that this is it. It's over.
I'm over.
"This was a really stupid fucking move for someone who claims to be so smart, " Pike sneers. He raises the gun.
I pinch my eyes shut, waiting for the feel the bullet of his wrath to pierce my skin. I hear a thud, and my eyes fly open and land on the carpet where Pike's tossed the gun to the floor.
My eyes meet his in silent question. Why?
He answers by charging, a one-man stampede I can't avoid as he barrels toward me. His chest crashes against mine, and my head connects with the wall with a thud that rattles my bones. I'm dizzy as fear lands in my gut like a ball of fire. My pulse races as his closeness consumes me. The smell of cologne and cigarettes lingers between us—a trace of whiskey on his breath.
"You're going to regret not pulling that trigger," he sneers. The darkness in Pike's eyes tells me that, gun or no gun, I'm not getting out of this unpunished.
Or possibly even alive.
I swallow hard.
He cages me in with his hands against the wall beside me, engulfing me in the heat and rage radiating from his hard body. I feel his heart beating fast beneath his chest now pressed against mine. "What to do with you now?" Pike muses, his breath ragged. His voice full of promise and warning. He brushes his lips over my temple. I tremble at the contact. "You're going to pay for that little stunt, Mic."
He's close. Too close. I'm entirely rigid, frozen in place. This wasn't supposed to happen. How did I let this happen? I'm the most terrified I've ever been, and yet there's something else I can't understand. Something else between us that's charging the air, causing me to shake, and it's not just from fear. Hatred mixed with need. The yearning I've denied for him is no longer lying dormant. It's as real as the ache growing in my stomach, the wetness between my thighs. If I thought the room felt charged before, it's damn near on fire now. The flames of desire and hate lick at the walls around us, setting everything ablaze, making the small room feel smaller, closing in around us.
My nipples harden as they brush against his chest. I suck in a gasp.
He doesn't miss my reaction. He looks to where my nipples are straining against my shirt with heated eyes.
The only sound in the room is our mutual heavy breathing as he slowly pulls his gaze from my chest. His eyes lock on mine. For a few seconds, we just stare at each other—foreheads lined with confusion and anger.
A silent dare.
My mind, on the other hand, is anything but silent.
“Should I kill you or fuck you?” he muses. And I’m honestly not sure what scares me more. His anger or his desire. He brushes the backs of his knuckles against my jaw. "Maybe, both."
"What do you—" I don't have time to finish my question because his lips are on mine. He hoists me in the air, and my legs wrap around his waist on instinct.
It's an angry joining of clacking teeth and biting lips. A war we are still fighting both with each other and ourselves. He growls at me when I pierce his lip, drawing blood. He licks the blood with his tongue then kisses me again, this time harder. A punishing kiss that has me growling at him in return. His coppery blood on my tongue tastes like victory. He licks his way between my lips, pushing his tongue into my mouth, licking and devouring with rough determined strokes. With a jerk of his hips, he presses the massive erection beneath his jeans between my legs, the pleasure that courses through me has me momentary seeing stars. I grind down on him in return.
He hisses in response, baring his teeth against my lips. "You're going to pay for that, Mic," he warns, taking my mouth in another kiss that has us grunting and growling at one another like starved animals fighting over the last scrap of food. But neither of us is about to give up. He pushes me back onto the bed, falling with me over my body, my legs splayed on both sides of his hips as he presses his cock again between my legs. I arch my back, needing to feel more. Needing for there to be nothing between us but desire. For each other, and to win. But, this is no longer a game we're playing. It's a battle. A war neither of us can win.
But, one in which we will both go down fighting.
He sits up on his knees, exposing the deep cut lines of muscle beaded with sweat. I dart out my tongue to taste his salty skin. He closes his eyes with a groan, then reaches behind me, pulling me up into a sitting position long enough to rip the shirt over my head and toss it to the floor with his own. He presses between my breasts, sending me back down to the mattress then yanks my shorts and panties off with one pull. I feel the air on my naked skin for a brief moment and a flash of terror bolts through my chest.
Pike covers me again with his body, his bare chest against mine is a sensation like I’ve never felt. Hard against soft. My nipples ache beneath his warm skin. His cock is hard and hot beneath his jeans as he pushes against my clit causing a ripple of pleasure to course through me. I shudder as my pussy clenches at emptiness, and I groan as the ache demands to be sated as my body demands to be filled.
I rake my nails over Pike’s back, punishing him for not being inside me. Punishing him for making me want him, for making me afraid to want him, but the hiss between his teeth is not one of pain. It’s of arousal, a pure unadulterated need that mirrors my own.
Pike tugs at my hair with one hand, pushing his pants down to his feet with the other, kicking them off.
And there he is. Naked before me. The sight causes me to gasp. Pike’s body is a work of art, all chorded and lean muscle. His tattoos wrap around his hips in an intricate design I want to trace with my fingers and my tongue. His abs are outlined in shadows so deep they look as if they were drawn on. He’s utter perfection. It’s both infuriating and arousing that this man, out of all men, one who acts like the devil himself, is sculpted in the image of a god. An angel wearing a halo of hate and pain that penetrates my soul.
And his cock his as enormous and intimidating as the rest of him. Jutting out before him, grazing his belly button, making me fearful, but in a very different way.
He strokes himself. Once, slowly, and I’m entranced by the movement, fighting the urge to reach out and grab it myself to find out what it would feel like in my own hand.
Pike slowly looks me over, and my body heats under his gaze. I’m nearly naked with my legs spread before him. Suddenly, I’ve never felt so exposed. I clasp my legs together, and he immediately releases his hold in my hair to pry them back apart. His eyes grow even darker as he fixates on the wetness pooling there. I didn’t think it was possible, but he looks even hungrier than before.
His nostrils flare, and again, I find myself afraid of what he’s capable of, but for an entirely different reason.
Pike covers me again with his body, tugging my breasts from the cups of my bra. He licks at one of my nipples then bites down. I groan at the sting of pleasure and arch my back, silently pleading for more. When his now naked shaft connects with my clit and throbs against me, I cry out. I cry out when my insides twist with need and unmet pleasure.
He licks and sucks my nipple, and I take a fistful of his hair, holding him against me, lifting my hips in a silent command for more.
He lifts his head and releases my nipple with a pop, the cool air meets the wetness and hardens them even more. He reaches between us and grabs the base of his shaft in his fist. His hand is large yet his cock still looks massive in his grip. He slides one hand behind my head, once again tangling it in my hair. His other moves to my lower back, raising my hips off the bed. He kisses me again, hard, furiously. There’s a prodding at my entrance. Heated steel against silk. He groans into my mouth as he surges forward, impaling me with his massive cock that stretches me until I think I’m about to break. My eyes water, tears spill from the corners. It burns and hurts, and I never want it to stop.
He moves his lips to my eyes and licks away tears I didn’t know had fallen. It
hurts, so much, not just in my body, but in my heart.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he says on a strangled groan. “Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than anything…” he struggles to say, trailing off. “I thought about this. About you. So much. Fuck, Mic.”
The way his face twists in agony and pleasure encourages me further. I lift my hips, taking him deeper, and still, it’s not enough. The pain subsides with the movement, so I do it again.
He hisses, raising his eyes to the ceiling then pressing them shut.
I do it again.
His eyes open and meet mine. I give him a daring look that says do your worst. He smiles in reply, thrusting even harder, touching me even deeper.
And the battle resumes.
I meet him thrust for thrust as we hold each other's gaze.
He stills then pulls out and pushes forward with such force my head hits the headboard, but I don’t care. The sensation of having him inside of me, stretching me, filling me, is so great that I’m about to burst apart.
He holds me still in his arms, pulling me onto him while thrusting in fast hard strokes so that I feel all of him, everything he has to give. It’s overwhelming, and yet it’s perfect in the same way it’s imperfect.
Like Pike.
“I fucking hate you,” I groan against his lips, as he kisses me once more, but I don’t mean it.
“I fucking hate you, too,” he sneers, and I know he doesn’t mean it either.
We should, but we don’t. We can’t.
How can I hate someone who is a part of me?
We’re not enemies. We’re victims of circumstance, caught up in what we think we should be doing while consumed by what we want to be doing to each other.
I raise my hips again, and his thrusting becomes wild and erratic until the tightness in my stomach explodes into a burst of feeling, shattering me to pieces like a sledgehammer to a window.
“Pike!” I cry out as the sensations overwhelm me in wave after wave of pleasure that has me seeing nothing but white.
Pike: The Pawn Duet, Book One Page 18