“You know her?” Bob asked.
Snake drained the rest of his beer. “We’ve met.” He slammed the empty glass on the table and stalked from the club.
Bob sighed as he pulled his phone from his hoodie. He had missed a text seven minutes before because of the loud music. It was from M.J. And it was an address, followed by a photo of the missing teen wearing a Slick uniform.
Detective Kelly Harris hopped to his feet and followed Snake out the door.
15. U + UR HAND
Baby sat on the sofa, playing with her new phone. It was a marvel in her hands. She had never been allowed an expensive smartphone before. “You’re not mature enough,” the voice echoed. “We’ll have to work on that.”
She shivered in spite of herself, shaking her head slightly as she continued to explore her new gadget.
Kid plopped down next to her. “Having fun?”
She smiled wide. “A blast,” she admitted. She turned the phone around in her hands. “It’s like having a cosmic remote control. Pew,” she said, pointing the phone at the TV, “play my favorite show. Pew,” she said, aiming it at his game console. “Play the newest games. Pew,” she said, pointing it at him. “Call my new friend.”
They laughed as they settled back against the cushions. “What would you do with a cosmic remote control?” he asked. “If you could have anything you wanted in just the push of a button.”
She thought about that a minute before admitting, with a sheepish grin, “I suppose if I were a good person I’d wish for world peace or to end world hunger or to cure cancer.”
“You are a good person,” Kid asserted. “One of the best.”
She shook her head. “You don’t even know me.”
His eyes met hers. “Yeah, I do.” After a beat, she looked away. “Really. You can tell me.”
She stared at her phone for a long moment before she answered. “I wish I could be an entirely new person. Just start over again from scratch.”
“Isn’t that what you did?” he asked her.
She glanced around the homey, masculine room. There were pictures on the wall, pictures of Snake and Kid and their parents. There were pictures of M.J. and pictures of Jimmy, and of a man named Joe Bennett that she had never met. She felt more at home in this quaint house than she had in some of the finest houses in North Carolina. She had a new name. She had a new look.
So why did she feel like the same corrupted person inside?
“I think I need a tattoo,” she decided, examining the inside of her delicate wrist. It seemed fitting. A beautiful scar on the outside to mask the ugly ones on the inside.
He laughed. “You’re not old enough.”
“You have one,” she pointed out, reminding him of the cartoon character he’d gotten on his left arm for his sixteenth birthday.
“True,” he chuckled. “But M.J. will never allow it. There was a time when she thought tattoos made people too identifiable. That’s why most of hers are where they usually can’t be seen.”
Baby considered that. “Well, it was just a thought,” she said. She yawned and stood. “I think I’m going to head to bed. You?”
He shook his head. “I think I’ll level up first.”
She nodded. Right as she reached the doorframe, she turned back. “You should call Maddox,” she said.
“Why?”
“Maybe it’s time for you to be a new person, too,” she said with a small smile. “Night, Kid.”
“Night, Baby,” he replied softly.
He shivered as she turned away. Her name felt like honey on his tongue. It tasted so good he indulged any reason at all to say it. He’d been smitten before, of course. He’d had crushes and he had gone on dates. He’d even played spin the bottle and gotten to second base with Allison Newman in a closet, playing seven minutes in heaven. Sure, it had taken him six minutes to get there, but he had done it. Not bad for a geeky biker gamer dork who didn’t really fit in with anyone.
But with Baby he felt like he belonged. They could sit side by side and say nothing, yet still make a connection. Just a look, or a brush of her hand against his skin, or even the smell of her perfume on the furniture made him feel renewed. Like he wasn’t left alone in the universe anymore. He had waited a very long time to feel that again.
More than that, she gave him purpose. It made him feel like a man to look after her and take care of her. He was her protector now. He liked what that had awakened inside him. He knew he could be anything he wanted to be, just because this complete stranger had faith in him.
He pulled out his own phone and called Maddox.
Dominic thrust M.J. into his office, locking the door behind her. She sauntered easily toward one of the chairs. “So what do you think?” she asked as she flopped down. “Do I have what it takes?”
His dark eyes glittered as he stared down at her. “Normally I would never hire anyone with tattoos,” he said with an evil sneer. “But the crowd seemed to love you. Apparently they like a dirty girl.” He perched on the edge of the desk.
She parted her legs before draping one over the other. “The dirtiest,” she said, popping a sour green apple sucker into her mouth. She had snatched the candy from the Green Room when she had grabbed the black leather bra. Whether he recognized either remained a mystery. He made no comment as he studied her, his eyes narrowed.
“You should know you’re playing a dangerous game. I’m not a man to be toyed with.”
“No?” she asked innocently. “I would think a guy like you had lots of toys.” She stood. “In lots of rooms. With different themes,” she added as she leaned closer. Her body may have been inviting, but her eyes were lethal.
Just as he was adding two and two, someone knocked on his door. He walked over to answer. “She’s gone,” the voice said from the other side.
Dominic said nothing. He locked the door with a push of the button and faced M.J. “I thought I warned you about sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he growled as he advanced.
“And I thought you mentioned something about a trade,” she said with a slight smile. “I know there’s a few more miles on this engine, but you shouldn’t count me out until you take a test drive.”
He was intrigued. She could tell by the tightening of his trousers. He resumed his seat on the ebony desk and beckoned. “Impress me.”
She stepped closer, running her hands under his jacket and up his chest. His eyes swallowed her as she leaned close and whispered, “Play something with a beat.”
He leaned back to grab his console control. He scrolled past the classical music for a harder-edged rock tune. She began to writhe and gyrate around his body, just like she had on the stripper pole. She unbuttoned his jacket and slipped it from his broad shoulders. With a delicious grin, she moved her hands over his rock-hard chest. “Someone works out,” she crooned.
His hand slid from her shoulder down to the curve of her hip. “I could say the same about you,” he murmured.
“You have no idea,” she whispered as she bent forward, undoing each button of his shirt with her teeth. She didn’t stop until she was on her knees in front of him. He pulled his shirt free from his pants as she unbuckled his belt. Her finger slipped inside his slacks and released the button. She brushed her breasts on the insides of his legs.
He grinned as he tangled his hand in her hair. “You’re just a filthy little whore, aren’t you?” he murmured. “Like all the rest. At home on your knees.”
She shook her head. “Oh, no. I think you’ll find I’m very different from all the rest.” She pulled his slacks open, revealing the bulge straining against his underwear. She ran a hand along the shaft and he shuddered. “Are you ready?” she whispered.
He shoved her head downward and she smiled as she made a production out of pulling his underwear down and revealing his angry, purple-headed erection. She took her time, cradling his balls, tugging them from his trousers, until he was massive and naked right in front of her face. The moment her brea
th touched the sensitive skin of his head, his eyes fluttered closed and his head tilted back.
“You like that?” she asked, and he murmured his affirmation.
In one swift motion, she grabbed the zipper and yanked it up full force, until all of the skin of his erect penis and tender testicles was eaten up in the metal teeth.
With a roar he knocked her away, delivering a backhanded blow to her jaw. Though her smile was bloody, she reveled in the fact he was doubled over in pain in front of her. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. All he could think about was the pain in his genitals. She made it to the door, but he had changed the lock configuration since her last visit. Before she could figure it out, he was nearly on top of her.
“You forgot something,” he sputtered. He yanked the black bra off her body so violently he nearly took skin with it. “That’s mine.”
She stood before him half nude. She didn’t make one move to cover herself. Let him get an eyeful of what he would forever be denied. As he was still compromised, she was able to step in, slip her arm in one sleeve of his shirt, and spin them around until she had wrested it from him. He fell, bleeding and groaning, onto the floor.
She hit the electronic box with one hand while she held the shirt closed with the other. The door opened and she darted down the hallway, flying down the steps toward the front door. Isbecky’s goons were quick to follow, and four big muscleheads nearly cornered her at the door. She dove under a table to roll out of arm’s reach, then scooted right between some patrons at the front of the line waiting to enter.
The thugs followed her, gaining ground. She nearly ran into the street to get away from them. As she turned back to see where they were, a strong arm grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up on a motorcycle.
With a roar of thunder, they sped out of sight.
16. SHE’S ALWAYS A WOMAN
M.J. was as mad as a wet hornet when they finally pulled to a stop in the high desert of San Bernadino County. She flew off the bike and turned on Snake in a rage. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she shouted.
“I was coming to your rescue,” he explained casually as he dismounted. “White knight,” he said, pointing to himself. “Noble steed,” he added, pointing to the bike.
“When did I ever ask you to save me?” she demanded.
“Darlin’, you were pole dancing in a seedy strip club. That’s not a cry for help. That’s a bloodcurdling scream.”
“I had it all under control,” she informed him coldly, and he held up a hand.
“Oh, I could tell. Only the best dancers get dragged off to a back room somewhere.”
She didn’t have time for this. She pulled out her phone. Snake was quick to grab it. “Gonna call your new partner in crime?” he asked as he held her phone out of reach. “Or should I say new partner in fighting crime? Since when do you work with cops, M.J.?”
“Since never!” she spat as she jumped for the phone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please,” he scoffed. “Bob from Scottsdale? Give me a fucking break. I nearly had to tie him down when that guy grabbed you. So who is he, M.J.?” Snake demanded in a softer tone, his eyes angry and hurt.
“Are you serious?” she exclaimed. “That’s what this is about? You’re jealous?”
“Fuck you,” he said in a cold voice.
They had a brief staredown before she backed off. He was a bastard for forcing her hand like this. Time was of the essence now. She still had one very important thing to do and had to depend on a wiseass cop to do it. She’d cave a little, and make him pay later. “Fine. He’s a cop. But I only used him to get inside the building. He was nothing more than a convenient tool, emphasis on tool, to execute the plan. Can I have my phone back now?”
The phone rang as he held it. He powered it down and then tossed it out of view into the dark shadows.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she said. She started to round the bike, but he grabbed her by both arms. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“I know one thing I couldn’t have done,” he said. “I couldn’t have gone one more night without doing anything.”
She saw the holster inside his jacket. “Snake, no.” She tried to wrench away, but he pulled her back against his solid chest. He cupped her face in one hand, drawing her closer.
“Like I ever had a choice. Can’t you see what you do to me, M.J.?”
Her eyes met his. “Can’t you see that if you ever got hurt—” She couldn’t even finish the thought. She looked away, so he tipped her chin with his thumb.
“Hurt?” he repeated. “I never know if you’re okay or if you need help. If you’re alive and well or dead somewhere in a ditch after pissing off the wrong person. You get hurt, you don’t tell me. You’re in danger, you take off and say nothing. It’s like having you and losing you all at the same time. And I never know which is which until you show up on my front door. You don’t think that hurts?”
She swallowed hard. She needed him, every bit as much as she needed to protect him. She had been weak because she missed those big strong arms holding her together, and the familiar scruff of his beard against her face that made her feel at home no matter where they happened to be. When she felt unsure, she knew she could draw from his endless well of strength. She knew it was unfair. But he had never sent her away for good.
Maybe if he did they would both be better off.
But it was the last thing she wanted as he lifted her up against him. The shirt she was wearing fell open, and her breasts swayed free against the thin cotton of his shirt. He groaned as he carried her back to the bike. He sat astride while she straddled his hips.
His hands slipped into the open shirt, sliding behind her and cupping her ass as he pressed her closer, grinding her down onto his lap. He captured her bottom lip tenderly in his teeth as he ended a kiss, and their eyes locked and held. “You break my heart, M.J.,” he murmured as he pulled away. “And only you can put it together again.”
He kissed his way down her neck and across her chest until he latched onto one hard nipple. His tongue slid around the sensitive peak until she was crying out into the night. She fumbled between them until she released his majestic cock. It stood rigid and proud within the circle of her fingers. He gasped as she stroked him out in the open. Traffic from the nearby interstate was racing by.
He glanced around. The other campers were already secured away in their darkened, silent tents. “God, babe,” he whispered, and she shuddered in spite of herself. “You do make me crazy.”
“Why do you put up with it?”
He stroked her hair with his hand. “Why? Because I would rather spend five minutes with you than a whole lifetime with anyone else, that’s why. You’re worth it, M.J. All of it.”
Her eyes were misty as he lifted her off of the bike. He reached for the canvas bag across his handlebars for his compact tent. He put it together by the glow of the headlight, and within minutes M.J. was secure inside. She had already taken off her clothes by the time he crawled through the tent flap. It was the only invitation he needed. He crawled up her body and claimed her with one decisive stroke. She curled herself around him with a contented sigh.
He spent the rest of the night loving her as thoroughly as the Fates would allow.
17. NO MORE MR. NICE GUY
“What do you mean, she never showed?”
Snake’s eyes fluttered open when he heard M.J.’s hushed, angry voice coming from just outside the tent. He was naked and his shirt was missing. When he poked his head out, he quickly realized why. She wore his shirt over her jeans and was clutching the phone she had recovered from the desert to her ear. She scoured his saddlebag as she searched in vain for his key. With a sigh, he grabbed his jeans.
She was livid as he emerged, partially dressed, from the tent. They said nothing as he disassembled the tent and packed up what was left of the meager campsite. He withdrew a white cotton T-shirt from his saddlebag and retri
eved the key from the pocket.
He’d known she wouldn’t bother with the white shirt when he stashed it there the night before. She’d opt for his black shirt to wear, and hit all his usual places, like his pockets, shoes, and wallet, to find the key. She sighed and leaned against the bike. “I’m beginning to think you know me too well.”
“No one knows you better,” he agreed. “Wilma,” he added with a wink, referring to her alias.
She chuckled in spite of herself. “Eugene,” she said, nodding toward his wallet. He reviewed the contents to see how much money she’d left behind when she raided it. She wouldn’t have left him in the desert empty-handed.
He swung his leg over the bike. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”
She planted one hand on her hip. “I need to get back to town.”
“I figured you’d say that,” he said. “But we’re going to eat anyway.”
She reached across him to grab the key, but he quickly palmed it and held it out of reach. When she grabbed for it again, he slid it down the front of his unzipped jeans. Her eyebrow arched. “Like that has ever stopped me.”
“It doesn’t have to stop you,” he grinned. “It just has to distract you.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him for another blazing kiss. He felt her relent against him. When the kiss ended, she climbed on the bike behind him. The bike fired to life beneath them and he skidded out of the camp area and headed toward the interstate.
They stopped at a retro diner on their way back. He insisted he needed to eat. She was antsy to get back to the city, so the mood was tense as they waited for his breakfast. He wolfed down a stack of buttery pancakes as she sipped at a cup of strong black coffee. “You should eat,” he murmured through a mouthful of food. “If I know you, you’re in for a long day.”
She grabbed one of the extra forks and stole a bite of his pancakes, but did not offer any information. Unfortunately for her, Snake was fully prepared to wait this one out. He leaned back in the booth to let his big lumberjack breakfast digest. “So how long do we play this game until you tell me what’s going on?”
Chasing Thunder Page 16