Free

by Kristen Ashley

  I didn’t.

  Anytime I went to Diane’s house around that time, I didn’t pay any attention to anything but her.

  Though that solved the mystery of why the voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t remember why.

  “I know it won’t make you understand,” Janna went on. “But I lived with my weakness. I lived with the fear and how it made me weak and what I was doing to Chantilly’s family for months. It wasn’t easy. Those women were killed and everyone was whispering it had to do with Mr. Valenzuela coming back, and those two guys Chantilly was seeing, and I just got more scared. But that’s no excuse. I should have come forward. I should have—”

  “If you had, it wouldn’t have made her any less dead.”

  Her head twitched.

  “Janna, that whole thing was one massive clusterfuck,” I pointed out. “It was as messed up as something could get. But there’s no moratorium on doing the right thing. So it took some time.” I shrugged. “In the end, you did the right thing.”

  “You’re not furious at me?” she asked.

  I thought of Paul’s descent into vodka. The truth of Diane’s death and who was behind it. The fact that knowing might bring closure, but it didn’t bring healing and it certainly didn’t bring peace.

  And I thought none of that would be any different even if we knew the truth of what happened months ago.

  Outside my sojourn into porn, of course.

  But if I didn’t take that path, I wouldn’t have met Rush.

  “I’m not furious at you,” I told her.

  Her shoulders sagged with relief.

  Then they shot back up with tension and she turned to Rush.

  “He’s trying to be a good man,” she told him strangely.

  “He’s got a long way to go,” Rush growled.

  You had to hand it to her, even with Rush’s obvious bad mood, she braved the contradiction.

  “Not as far as you think.”

  “Warning, he’s not real good with women,” Rush stated.

  “You’re very wrong,” she whispered.

  I sat silent through this exchange, and when they started just staring at each other, I chimed in.

  “Right, Janna, we’re good. I really appreciate you sharing all this with me. It means a lot. It truly does. But now it’s all done. Totally done. Let’s just make it that and I’ll see you Monday.”

  She twisted back in her seat to face me.

  “She was good.”

  I sat solid behind my desk.

  “She was a good person. It cut her up, what she was doing, who the drugs made her. I saw that in her. When she was alive, I tried . . .” another shake of her head, “I failed.”

  “You didn’t fail. I didn’t fail. Her parents didn’t fail,” I said gently, thinking about what Essence had told me. “She was ill. She was very, very sick. And then she died.”

  That was when Janna and I started staring at each other and we did this a few beats before she nodded.

  “Thanks, Rebel. I’ll see you Monday.”

  With that, she got up and only glanced at Rush while she quickly walked out of the room.

  I gave my attention to Rush.

  “What was that about?”

  “Her boyfriend and his MC beat the fuck outta Rosalie, Snapper’s woman.”

  “Holy shit,” I whispered.

  “Yeah. She was informing on his club to Chaos. Doesn’t make it right.”

  Informing to an MC on another MC?

  “Holy shit,” I breathed.

  “Doesn’t make it right, Rebel.”

  “I know. But, whoa. That would take balls.”

  “She’s sweet as sugar, but born to be an old lady, so yeah. Wouldn’t read that on her you looked at her, but she’s all in to go to the wall for someone she loves or something she believes in.” His expression changed. “Chaos seems to attract that kind of thing.”

  Wow.

  That felt nice.

  So nice, I had to cover it by giving him shit.

  “In your case, it’s your big dick.”

  His expression changed again as he started chuckling.

  “And your eyes. You have pretty eyes,” I shared.

  He just kept laughing.

  “And your hair. Love your hair. And totally digging the beard.”

  “You need shades,” he said.

  “What?”

  “On your window. You need a blind or something. You don’t have one means I can’t show on your set, make you take fifteen, and fuck you on your desk.”

  “A further delay in you dropping me at Ride so you can go out and hunt your final enemy since we’re going to Lowe’s,” I announced.

  He burst out laughing.

  “’Bye, Rebel!” I heard and turned to see Meryl walking by my office. “I’ll email to tell you how far we got while you were gone, and I’ll see you on Monday!”

  She called me Rebel.

  She’d see me on Monday.

  God, both those felt good.

  I lifted my hand her way.

  “See you on Monday!”

  Two thirty-eight, that afternoon . . .

  “I’m feeling very Tawny Kitaen right about now,” I announced as I walked through the garage to where Rush was bent over the engine of a one hundred percent kickass car.

  My guy: hot.

  My guy kicking my asshole brother’s ass: hotter.

  My guy bent over the engine of a fucking sweet muscle car: hottest.

  Okay, so Rush wiping the floor with Gunner was the hottest, I just didn’t have that visual right then.

  I had this one.

  And it was good.

  He tipped his head back and grinned at me. “Hold that vibe, the others go home, we’re workin’ it out.”

  I stopped opposite him. “No way. The others go home, since you aren’t hunting your enemy, we’re going to my place and I’m making you an anniversary dinner.”

  He retracted himself from the engine and declared, “We’re goin’ out for steaks.”

  My brows flew up. “We aren’t goin’ out for steaks.”

  “No way in fuck I’m havin’ my first anniversary with my girl and making her cook.”

  Hmm . . .

  My stomach felt melty.

  “We’re goin’ out for steaks,” he decreed. “You can cook me an anniversary dinner next Monday,” he paused, “or Tuesday.”

  I put my hands to my hips. “I’m not waiting until next Monday to cook for you, Rush.”

  He looked beyond me then back at me, ignoring my words to ask, “You get your proposal done?”

  “No. But Tyra is reading over what I’ve got so far.” I looked down at the car then at him, “Why aren’t you out hunting?”

  “No leads.”

  “Bummer,” I muttered.

  “We have to wait for him to make another move.”

  Oh boy.

  That was sure not to be good.

  “Bummer,” I repeated.

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  Then his head turned.

  After that it tipped back so he could look to the steel-raftered ceiling.

  He did that for a beat, and during that beat I heard the sharp staccato of heels hitting cement. But I didn’t glance in that direction because Rush shifted his attention to me.

  “Brace,” he said right before . . .

  “Yo! What the hell?”

  I turned to the female voice only to see a black woman in a swank dress and fantastic shoes, for some reason glaring at Rush like she was super pissed at him.

  The dress was awesome. The shoes more awesome.

  But I’d taken on Benito Valenzuela on the hunt for a murderer, and her expression still scared me.

  “You claim a biker babe, you don’t run her by me?” she demanded to know.

  “Elvira . . .” Rush muttered.

  My focus went back to the black woman because Tyra and Tabby had talked about her and the way they did, I’d wanted to meet her.

 
It also explained the ’tude.

  “Hey,” I greeted.

  She turned narrowed eyes to me. “You, the girls, me, Club, tonight. Cocktails and girl talk. Though you gotta be cool when you’re giving us the skinny. Tyra and Tabby don’t need to be hearin’ how your man gives you the business. And I can’t handle knowin’ a man’s place on the scale of givin’ pleasure. I like Rush. I wanna be able to look him in the eyes for the next six months. You with me?”

  I wanted to start laughing.

  I didn’t because Rush butted in.

  “We’re going out to dinner tonight, Vira. It’s our anniversary.”

  “Anniversary of what? You’ve known each other like, four days,” Elvira shot back.

  “It’s been a week,” Rush returned.

  “Well, shit, boy, a whole week,” she fired back and again looked at me. “Tonight. Martinis.”

  “Um, how about tomorrow?” I suggested.

  “Um, how about not at all,” Rush put in. “She’s not anywhere without a brother at her back.”

  “So come with,” Elvira returned.

  “I’m not going out for martinis with the girls,” Rush growled.

  “Sit at the bar,” Elvira retorted.

  “I’m not sittin’ at the bar at Club,” Rush kept growling.

  “Havin’ your ass on a stool in a class joint isn’t gonna give you the unshakable urge to wear a suit, Rush,” she pointed out.

  “I am not . . . sittin’ a stool . . . at Club,” Rush said slowly. “My woman is not . . . goin’ for drinks . . . with the girls until this shit is done. And tonight, we . . . are . . . having . . . steaks.”

  Well then, the badass had spoken.

  Elvira didn’t care the badass had spoken.

  They went into staredown.

  I was mildly surprised Rush won.

  He did this when Elvira did a scan and asked, “Who you beat up?”

  He’d split a couple of knuckles handing Gunner his ass.

  See?

  Hot.

  “Rebel’s brother,” he answered.

  Her eyes got huge and she turned them to me. “Say what?”

  I ran it down for her.

  “He was in town, escorting my mother to talk to my other brother, who’s bi, about getting him into a ‘program’ back in Indiana. Fortunately, by this time, my brother and his man were on their way back to their woman in Phoenix. Things got ugly. Rush intervened.”

  “A program?” she asked.

  I shrugged.

  Her expression warmed, she turned again to Rush and crooned, “Well, you go, boo. Good on you.” Back to me. “We’ll come over. Tomorrow night. I’ll be making boards so you don’t got anything to worry about. Seven. See you there.”

  Apparently, I wasn’t cooking for Rush tomorrow night either.

  This was slightly frustrating, but mostly I wanted to know what boards were.

  “Elvira,” Rush had returned to growling, “that anniversary? It’s been a week. We got time, we’re spending it together. You and the girls can have Rebel next week.” He paused then amended, “No. The week after.”

  “Oh, Rush,” she clucked. “You know it don’t work that way.” Again to me. “See you, girl. Tomorrow. Seven. We’ll also bring the booze.”

  Then she pivoted, and on a sashay, she clacked away.

  “Well, she didn’t disappoint,” I muttered, grinning.

  “She’s a pain in the ass,” Rush muttered back.

  I looked to him to see him not grinning but scowling her way. “She called you ‘boo.’”

  He switched his scowl to me.

  “‘Stud’ is out. I’m totally calling you ‘boo’ from now on,” I declared.

  His eyes moved again to the ceiling.

  They didn’t stay there very long.

  His attention turned to look out the bays.

  I looked that way to see three cars driving in, two of them were squad cars, the lead one screamed “Cop!” but without the lights on top.

  “What on earth?” I asked.

  “They got their search warrants,” Rush murmured.

  I shifted my gaze to him. “Search warrants?”

  His gaze shifted to me. “Long story.”

  “Rebel!”

  I whirled to see Tyra hanging out the door to the office.

  “It’s great!” she cried. “Come back! I have some ideas.”

  “Um, Tyra, it seems the police are here with search warrants,” I informed her.

  She didn’t even look out the bays when she replied, “Oh, that won’t take long. Let’s dig in this. We’ll have a preliminary to give to the boys by the end of the day.”

  With that, she disappeared.

  And suddenly, I had no worries about search warrants.

  I twisted back to Rush. “Seems I have work to do.”

  “Go, baby,” he muttered.

  I smiled at him then started toward the office door.

  “Babe!” he called.

  I kept walking but looked back.

  “Tawny Kitaen,” he reminded me.

  I shot him a smile.

  Then I skipped up the stairs to the office.

  Nine twenty-nine that night . . .

  One, two, three, slow glide.

  One, two, three, slow glide.

  God, he was killing me.

  Watching Rush on his knees, fucking me.

  Stroke, stroke, stroke, then that chest, those abs waving in a powerhouse glide, I couldn’t help but feel every inch of his thick cock filling me.

  And it was seriously doing a number on me.

  “Baby,” I panted, beginning to drop my feet to the bed.

  “High and wide,” he grunted on a glide.

  “Rush,” I whispered.

  Thrust, thrust, thrust, glide.

  Oh my God.

  I kept my knees back, where they were.

  “Rush, honey,” I whimpered.

  “Beautiful, the way you love to take my cock,” he rumbled, that rough voice I loved so much shivering through me, his gaze hot, moving all over me, hair having fallen in his eye.

  Amazing.

  Fast, fast, fast, slow.

  I moaned, lying opened to him, spread out for him.

  All for him.

  Punch, punch, punch, roll.

  God.

  “Anniversary fuck,” he growled.

  Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam . . .

  I gasped.

  Bam . . . float.

  God, watching him fuck me like that, his beautiful body moving, his big dick owning me, him slamming against my clit.

  “Rush,” I forced out urgently.

  The wave and glide, and then he reached in and tweaked my clit and he did it hard.

  That did it.

  I flew.

  Flew.

  He caught the backs of my knees when my legs started to drop automatically with my orgasm and he thumped into me, encouraging, “Give it, Rebel. Give it, baby.”

  I exhaled.

  He let one knee go and pinched my clit.

  I gasped and resumed soaring.

  “Yeah,” he groaned, fucking me hard. “Give it, baby.”

  Then he went, joining me, doing it slamming into me.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunted with each thrust. Then I cried out in surprise when I was hauled up, lifted in his arms, and driven down on his cock with one last, “Fuck.”

  My forehead drifted to his shoulder.

  A couple more thrusts, fainter.

  Then I whinnied when I lost his dick and I was again on my back on the bed between his knees, my legs cocked and spread wide.

  “Rush,” I whispered.

  His eyes moved up from between my legs to my face.

  “This mine?” he asked.

  Oh God.

  This was big.

  No.

  I knew this was huge.

  “Honey.”

  He slid his hand down the inside of my thigh and covered my sex lightly.


  “This mine, Rebel?”

  There was only one answer to that.

  “Yes.”

  He slid his thumb over my clit, I jerked, then he buried it inside and I sighed.

  “This mine?”

  “Yes, Rush,” I whispered.

  He slid his thumb out, his hand flat going up, over my belly, up, to where he had to feel my heart beating.

  “How about this?”

  I pressed my hand against my belly.

  Oh God.

  Yes, this was huge.

  Colossal.

  Everything.

  “Rush.”

  “Not too soon. Give it, Rebel.”

  I stared right into his eyes, the moonlight from the windows filtering them silver.

  He was so beautiful.

  So, so beautiful.

  “I can’t give something you already own.”

  I barely got the words past my lips before I cried out again when I was up, Rush was down, my thigh was thrown, two hands on my hips tugged me down, and then he was eating me.

  My head fell back and it was my body waving, rolling on his mouth.

  I planted a hand on the window in front of me and rode his face.

  Rode him and rode him and rode him . . . desperately.

  “Yeah,” he growled against my clit, before eating out my orgasm.

  Then he was out from under me, on his knees behind me, and I had both hands to the widow, his fingers tugging at my nipple, two from the other hand between my legs, fucking me.

  “Rush,” I gasped.

  “How often can you come?” he asked my neck.

  My hips jerked as he stroked deep. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  He slid his tongue along my ear.

  “Let’s see.”

  I mewed.

  His fingers left me and his cock slid inside.

  His hand went to the middle of my back, pressing in, arching me.

  “Ride that, Rebel,” he growled.

  I gave him what he wanted and got some of my own when I reached behind us and squeezed his balls just as he was coming, the rough, beautiful bark of his climax beating into my shoulder.

  Coming down, rooted on his cock, he wrapped a hand around my throat, the pads of his fingers digging in gently.

  “This, baby, is free,” he grated in my ear. “And no matter what goes down, that’s always what we got. That’s always gonna be you and me.”

  “Always,” I whispered.