Retaliate

by Kristin Harte

  Alder held his temper, though his jaw ticked and clenched. Those words definitely pissed him off. “Ain’t got any whores around these parts. I think you should head on out of town if that’s the sort kind of thing you’re looking for.”

  Dumb and Dumber focused completely on Alder, looking ready to fight. Not paying any attention to the rest of the room. I took advantage of their distraction to back Anabeth toward the kitchen. She resisted at first, her hands on my shoulders and her steps slow as she watched my brother verbally spar with the Soul Suckers. It wasn’t until I grabbed Katie’s arm from Deacon that Anabeth finally, quietly, surrendered and went with the flow. Gage opened the kitchen door and directed both women through it, following behind them. Their guard on duty. I caught Anabeth’s concerned gaze as she was herded toward the back exit, but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I needed her gone—needed her safely tucked away where these fuckers couldn’t get their hands on her—so I could fight beside my brother.

  Once Gage shut the door behind him, I headed back up front to do just that. I reached the standoff at the front door in time to hear big, dumb, and mean say, “He will get the little bitch. It’s only a matter of time.”

  Alder looked ready to tear the guy’s head off with his bare hands at that point. “You tell Pistol if he even thinks of coming near my girl, he’ll have to deal with me. And I’m not afraid to bury a body or ten.”

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  Alder smiled, a predatory look on his face. “Son, the only mistake here is you being in Justice. You’ve got two minutes to be on the road before we pull out the explosives and turn your unavoidable retreat into a game of Frogger.”

  The guy looked around the restaurant, probably just noticing that almost all the women had been quietly escorted out of the dining area. He stood in a room filled with loggers—tall, brawny men who weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. No matter what that meant. I saw the moment he accepted defeat, caught the flash of fear when he realized how we outnumbered him. Didn’t stop him from opening his stupid fucking mouth when he caught me watching him, though.

  “Tell that firecrotch witch of yours she’ll be seeing me soon.”

  It took me real effort not to slam my fist into his face. “I don’t fucking think so.”

  The guy just grinned, looking way too cocky for my liking, before turning and heading out into the night. Alder stood stock-still, watching. Waiting.

  I hated waiting. “Think it was a good idea to let them walk?”

  “We had a roomful of witnesses.” A fire filled his eyes when he looked my way, one burning hot with frustration. “I doubt anyone would have talked if we’d taken them out, but I couldn’t risk it. The last thing Shye needs is me in jail, even for one night.”

  I could understand that logic. I didn’t like it, but I got it. Without Alder to keep her safe, Shye was easy pickings. Even with the rest of us watching over her. In Alder’s mind, no one could keep her as safe as he could. I understood that too, because while I trusted my brothers to keep an eye on Anabeth, I knew my level of protection would go a step further.

  Because I loved her.

  Always had.

  Always would.

  When the roar of motorcycle engines broke the silence, Alder barked, “Deacon.”

  The man in question appeared from the bar area with Finn at his side. “On it.”

  The two disappeared outside, probably to follow the bikers out of town. Making sure they didn’t set up an ambush somewhere. Alder glared out the door one last time before heading for the kitchen. For Shye.

  I followed him, needing to see Anabeth. Wanting to make sure she was safe. Only then would the tightness in my chest disappear. Or so I hoped.

  When Alder pushed through the swinging door, he headed straight for his woman, picking her right up off the floor and holding her tight as he whispered in her ear. So open about his affection for her, so protective. And she obviously felt the same because she clung to him, completely oblivious to anything but him.

  And like Alder with Shye, I sought out Anabeth, unable not to. Pale but with her chin up, she stood at the back of the kitchen with her arms wrapped tight around her middle. Scared but defiant. I wanted to go to her, to grab her and wrap myself around those curves. To soothe the fear inside of her and promise to take care of her. To keep her safe. I wanted to make her mine and vow to always protect her.

  And I would. Fuck the past, fuck the story, fuck all of it. Life was too short not to jump in with both feet. And for her, I would. Just not in a fucking restaurant kitchen.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anabeth

  He wasn’t going to come to me.

  I knew it, saw it on his face and in his hard stance. Bishop wanted to comfort me but wouldn’t allow himself that, and I deserved his distance. I could deal with my own adrenaline crash, though. I’d been dealing with fear and pain and heartbreak for a long time all by myself. Tonight was no different.

  Well, the lust I felt in regards to seeing Bishop be so brave… That was new. He’d looked ready to kill, and for some crazy reason, I’d liked that. A lot. Too much.

  With a sigh, Alder put Shye back on her own feet, though he kept her tucked into his side. He looked positively lethal in that moment as he towered over her. Her protector ready to knock everyone out of their way. “I’m taking her home.”

  “Be careful out there,” Bishop said. He bumped fists with his brother and leaned in close to whisper to the little blonde, though I couldn’t hear what he had to say. She smiled, though, so it had to be something good.

  When he rose to his full height once more, his eyes immediately zeroed in on mine, and this time, he looked pure predator. On the hunt and hungry, and I was his prey. My knees shook and my heart raced—that look. God, he didn’t even need to say a word to get me naked when he looked at me like that. He’d never been so bold, so confident. The man was a beast. He didn’t need to pick me up like Alder had Shye or soothe me with comforting words. His intentions were perfectly clear on his face.

  I would be his tonight, and he wouldn’t be sweet about it.

  “Let’s go.” Two words, that was all he gave me, but my breath caught and my hands shook. His intensity was hard enough to bear standing a room apart with others around us—I couldn’t imagine what would happen when we ended up alone. This was going to be the longest drive home ever.

  I crossed the kitchen, making the move to bring us back together. To put us in the same space. His eyes nearly burned a hole through me as he waited, watching every step with interest. And when I finally reached him, when I stood close enough to smell his cologne, he grabbed my hand. Sparks tingled from that touch, and he branded me with a lustful look before turning and dragging me across the dining room. Without a single word of goodbye or thanks, I followed Bishop outside and through the rain to his truck. He opened the door for me but didn’t move out of the way, forcing me to rub against him as I passed, placing his hand on my ass to help me into the vehicle.

  He was trying to kill me.

  The rain splattered against the windshield, obscuring my view as he ran around the front and opened his door. Muscles bunched and stretched when he pulled himself inside, and then he was there. Sharing the same space, the same air. Sitting so close and yet miles and miles away. A distance I wanted to cross but couldn’t. I could only wait, could only stare.

  His hair lay wet against his forehead, his shoulders dark from the water. Hot and wet and so very strong. And mine. Even if only for the night.

  He didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, he sat quiet and still, breathing hard but not saying anything. Still so close but not touching me. I craved his touch, needed it like I needed air. And still, I waited for him. The overhead light went out, leaving the two of us alone in the darkness. Tension growing, heat building. Nothing but him and me and the sounds of us breathing while the rain fell outside.

  When the windshield began to fog up, I gave in to my need and w
hispered the only word I could. “Bishop.”

  His name on my lips broke something. Broke the tension and the stillness. Broke him. Bishop grabbed me, yanking me across the bench seat and dragging me into his lap. The feel of him under me, his hands on my body, his roughness—I broke too.

  I pushed him, forcing him to angle his body on the seat so I didn’t have the steering wheel at my back. So I could rock and thrust and move over him. Because this was what we wanted, what we needed. A reminder of those days before I’d left, when making out in a car was worth the risk of getting caught. When we were too hot for each other to wait until we got someplace more private. And just like back then, I locked my lips over his, groaning when he plunged his tongue into my mouth and wove his fingers into the hair at the back of my neck to tug me closer. To control my depth and speed and movements. So hot, so damn sexy and domineering.

  With a growl like some sort of wild animal, Bishop moved under me. Jerking his hips against mine, groaning and panting as he found just the right spot. The one that made me gasp and fall over him. The one that teased my clit through our clothes as I rolled over him. My wet panties were no match for his jean-covered erection. Even through the layers, I could feel his heat. His need. And I knew mine matched his.

  Bishop broke the kiss with a groan that sounded too close to pain. “Do you have any idea how much I wanted to grab you in there? How scared I was that they’d get to you before I could?” His words were like sandpaper, abrading my skin and heart, his voice dark and rough as he said, “You drive me fucking crazy, Anabeth,”

  He did the same to me, but words were too hard. Too foreign in that moment. I could only feel, could only act. I reached between us, lifting off his lap so I could unfasten his jeans. So I could pull out his heavy erection from the confines of his pants. We couldn’t have sex in the truck right there on Main Street no matter how dark and abandoned it seemed, but a little something—a reminder of our high school days—seemed possible. I hadn’t dry humped a man in years, had forgotten how good it felt. How exciting the moment could be when you were in a semi-public place.

  I wanted to remember, and thankfully it seemed Bishop did as well.

  Once I had him exposed, I gripped his shoulders and snapped my hips. Letting my weight do most of the work. Wanting to watch him come apart under me. Needing to see it before I followed him. Before he made me come again. Because he would—I had no doubt about that.

  And those words, I could find.

  “Please.” I bit his lower lip, smiling when he jerked against me. “Let me make you come. Please, Bishop.”

  He reached between us, unfastening his jeans and opening his fly wide. Two thin layers of cotton were all that stood between us fucking right there in his truck. Parked on the street for anyone to see. I’d never hated underwear more.

  “I love it when you beg.” He arched and moaned as I soaked the dark fabric covering his cock. “I’ve dreamed about you begging, Firefly. All these years, I’ve thought about you begging me to make you come, to take you back. And here you are fulfilling the first part of that fantasy. Your greedy little pussy can’t stay away, can it?”

  He tugged me down harder, rolling his hips against me as he thrust and jerked and groaned. As he rocked my body over his and teased me with his hard cock. Breathing hard, unable to do anything more than ride him as he bucked, I let the sensations take over my body. Let him lead me right to the edge of pleasure.

  And push me over it.

  He came with a grunt and a hard hold on me, lifting me up as he arched his back. So strong, so sexy. So male. The sight of him made my own orgasm inevitable. And when I followed him, when I fell over that edge chanting his name, I knew I’d lost any fight I’d had in me. There was no way to stay away from him. No way to stop this fall.

  Bishop held me for what felt like seconds or what could have been hours. Time had lost all sense of meaning in the wake of such a complete surrender. When we’d caught our breaths, Bishop lifted me off his lap and set me back on the seat, but not before kissing me again. Long, deep kisses that did nothing to quiet my need for him.

  “That’s it,” he said suddenly, reaching into the glove box for a stack of napkins. He handed me two before dealing with his own mess, then he refastened his jeans and started the truck. All while not looking at me. All very…succinct. My stomach twisted, unsure what was happening. Why he’d moved so quickly. What “that’s it” meant.

  “Bishop—”

  “I need to get you home.” He pulled out of the spot and turned to head toward Widow’s Ridge, giving me nothing more. Driving way too fast for the conditions.

  I couldn’t deal with the silence. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

  “No.”

  “Bishop, please—”

  “Anabeth, if you say one more word, I’m going to pull this truck over and fuck you on the hood. So if you’d rather I take you to bed where I can lick your pussy without the entire town knowing about it, you’ll wait until we get to your place.”

  Oh lord. I bit my lip and clenched my thighs, holding myself together. I should have told him no, half wanted to just to keep from falling down the rabbit hole again. But I stayed quiet instead, watching him drive. Knowing what was coming as soon as we made it back to the farmhouse. He wouldn’t be gentle with me. This wouldn’t be like our first time in the woods or all the times after that when we’d been young and dumb and exploring. No, we both knew what we liked now. What we wanted physically in a partner. He wasn’t a young man anymore, and his muscles proved it. Bishop wouldn’t be gentle—he’d tear me apart and put me back together with his body.

  And I could hardly wait.

  The drive to the house passed in a heated silence, both of us on edge. Me refusing to say a word for fear he’d go through with the whole pulling over and fucking me on the hood thing. Not that I’d be against it, though the rain would make things uncomfortable for sure.

  He flew over the flooded road up to the ridge, not even bothering to slow down at the sight of water flowing over the gravel. Good, because if I had to wait one extra minute for him to touch me again, I might explode.

  The second he pulled to a stop in the driveway, I jumped out of the truck and rushed to the porch. Bishop followed, slower, not caring that the rain soaked him, keeping his eyes locked on me. Giving chase. Making my heart leap in my chest at the possibilities of what would happen when he caught me. My keys shook as I unlocked the door, my breaths coming too fast. I wanted inside, wanted to take this man to my bed. Wanted to experience a night in his arms.

  On my fourth attempt, the key found the spot, and I finally made it inside. Bishop followed me still, never breaking eye contact as he shut the door and locked it. Safety first, even though he looked ready to pounce.

  And then I waited. Breathless and anxious. He didn’t make me wait for long.

  “Are you wet?” he asked as he kicked off his boots.

  I nodded, not caring if he meant from the rain or more. That cocky smile of his kicked up, and he ran a thumb over his bottom lip before tugging his shirt off from behind his neck. “Are you dripping for me, Firefly?”

  I might have whimpered. I might even have shivered in response to that question. I definitely nodded, though. His hands went to the front of his jeans, one palm pressing against the hard ridge as his long, rough fingers pulled open the fastenings.

  “You’ve got five seconds to get where you want to be before I throw your ass on the ground and fuck you.” He raised an eyebrow when I didn’t move, that smile spreading. “One…two—”

  I took off at a run, slipping around the corner and heading for the stairs that would take me up to my bedroom. He hit the bottom step as I reached the top landing, his footsteps pounding almost as loud as my heart. Oh god. He was fast. So fast. I wasn’t sure if I’d make it. Couldn’t tell if there was time to reach the big, soft bed I’d often dreamed of having him in.

  I was about five feet from my goal when his strong hands grabbed
me around the waist. I squealed as he lifted me off my feet, as he picked me up and tossed me onto the mattress. Wanting to see what was coming for me, I tried to roll over, to face him. But he was bigger than me and stronger. I couldn’t break his hold, couldn’t roll or buck or throw him off me. Not that I really wanted to—I was happy to let him lead, to surrender to what he wanted.

  And what he wanted was to hold me down, ruck up my skirt, and shove my panties to the side before plunging his fingers inside me. I hadn’t known it, but I’d wanted that too. A lot. Enough that I could feel my arousal dripping down my thighs as he moved behind me.

  “You’re so fucking wet, baby. You like me taking over, don’t you?” He pressed his weight into me as I gasped out a yes, as I shook and fisted the sheets.

  As I slammed my body back to fuck his hand. “Yes, yes. More. Bishop, please.”

  “Gonna take good care of this sweet pussy. Don’t you worry about that.”

  He pulled away and yanked me up by my hips, forcing me to my knees. Putting my ass on display for him. He took advantage too. Running his hands over my curves, sliding them between my thighs and up-up-up. Teasing me. Always teasing me. Until he stopped teasing.

  With a slight tug and ripping sound, my panties disappeared, too delicate to last against his desire. I thought for sure he’d drive his cock inside me, was absolutely positive he’d fill me up with one deep, hard thrust. Instead, he grabbed my ass and pulled my cheeks apart, leaning in to lick me from my clit all the way to my asshole.

  “Bishop. Fuck.” I gasped and shook, hands grabbing at the quilt under me as he attacked my pussy with a single-minded focus.

  “Fucking starving for you,” he said, groaning as he used his tongue to punish me. To lick me from one end to the other. To tease my clit until I rocked and jerked against his face.