by Brandy Ayers
Harper tried to hold back the laugh, she really did. But it came bursting forth from her mouth despite clamping her teeth down on her lips.
“What’s so funny?” Jax tilted his head to the side, regarding her with a look that reminded her all too much of a curious puppy.
“That rule is never going to fly with the rest of the girls.”
“What? Why not?” He looked genuinely confused, and it almost made Harper let out another laugh.
“That’s why not.” She nodded her head in the direction of the dumpsters to the side of the building where a bored looking woman had one leg propped up on a stack of crates, her back pressed against the brick wall, while a portly man pumped furiously into her.
Harper tried to ignore the irrational jealousy sweeping through her as Jax watched them. She knew nothing about the guy, yet the idea that he might like the show taking place across the parking lot set her teeth on edge.
He stared at them for a full minute before turning back to face Harper. “That happen a lot here?”
“Every single night. Blow Jobs, hand jobs, titty fucking, things of that nature are allowed inside. But actual sex has to be taken out of the building. George’s rules. The boss is the only man that gets fucked in his club.” Revulsion rippled through her body at the thought of George’s penetrating eyes following her those first few weeks. Calculating. Trying to find her weakness so he could exploit it, and her.
Jax eyed her with a long measuring stare. “Truth?”
“That’ll be a change in this place,” she responded.
“I made up the rule. I just don’t like the idea of you walking alone to your car. I’ve asked around and I know you’re different from the other girls. None of that stuff.” He nodded back to the man grunting his release on the other side of the parking lot. A moment of satisfaction curled her lips at the revulsion in his words. “None of the drugs, either. You said earlier I don’t belong here. Well, neither do you.”
The blood boiled inside Harper’s veins. He’d asked around about her. Sought information on her life. One thing kept her off George’s radar: her ability to lay low, get the job done, and not call attention to herself while off stage. This idiot kept it up and he’d ruin everything she worked for.
“Listen asshole, forget what you think you know about me. You don’t know shit.” She stepped closer to him, hating that without her heels she had to tilt her head back to glare into his deep brown eyes. “And stop asking about me. The last thing I want is anyone in that club thinking or talking about me. George has ears all over that fucking place. I don’t need him getting word that the new bartender is sniffing around his girls. I’ve managed to keep that giant slimeball’s paws off me for three years. I’m not going to let you fuck that up for me.”
Harper spun around on her heel, then stomped off toward her beat-down car. A moment later she heard his feet crunching on the gravel behind her. Not wanting anything more to do with Jax’s fucked up hero complex, Harper sped up her steps until she full out ran to her car. She prayed she could reach it, get in, and fire it up before he caught up. Not even one bit of her feared Jax, and for some reason that unsettled her more than if he did make her uncomfortable. Scumbags were the norm in her world. Not tall, sexy men worrying about her getting home safely.
The moment she reached the driver’s side door, she tried to jam the key into the lock, but her hands shook from the adrenaline and anger coursing through her body, making her miss with each attempt. “God fucking damn it, just open.”
Jax’s hurried footsteps echoed through the parking lot. He wasn’t running, but still sounded closer than she liked. Finally, the key slid into the rusted out old hole and she wrenched it to the side, praying it wouldn’t stick for once. The lock popped and she tugged on the handle, relief flooding her system that she was going to get away from the intoxicating bartender in time. But just as she opened the door, a large hand slammed it shut again and Jax’s large body crowded her against the peeling paint of her stupid car.
The momentary relief of freedom seeped from her body, leaving her weak and trembling.
“Don’t be scared. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Jax leaned his body in, bringing his nose to the back of her neck. She heard a hiss of air as he breathed her in. “Fuck. How do you smell so good right now?”
Did he actually want an answer? She’d been up on stage dancing for the better part of the past six hours. No doubt she smelled like sweat, cheap liquor, and smoke.
“I want to bury my face in your neck and lick all this sweetness from your skin. Do you taste as good as you smell?” His voice dropped an octave, taking on a gravelly quality that made Harper quiver between her legs.
“You’re insane. I smell like B.O. and bar.” With her hands braced against the car door, Harper pushed back suddenly, trying to throw him off her. Her efforts were futile though; all her action did was press the entire length of her body against his hard one. Very hard. All over. Including his pants.
“You feel that, right?” He ground his cock against her ass.
Harper nodded, hating the excitement that rippled through her body, dampening her panties. A desperate whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Jax whispered against her skin, so close to touching her, but not quite there yet. “That’s what you do to me right now, in your ratty jeans and Star Trek T-shirt. Sexy as fuck glasses and no make-up.”
Shit. She’d forgotten about the T-shirt. Her collection of sci-fi nerd T-shirts were her one indulgence. She’d scrape by on ramen noodles and tap water if it meant she could buy a T-shirt for one of her beloved shows every once in a while. Other women might like dresses and fancy dates, but give Harper a night in her T-shirt watching Firefly on the couch, and she would be happy for the rest of her life.
“Whatever. That’s probably residual boner from watching girls dance on stage all night.” She hated the words as soon as she said them. For some reason the idea of him getting hard over all the girls made her stomach knot.
Jax scoffed, then gripped her shoulders, spinning her and pressing her back against the curve of her car, thrusting her chest into him. “Every other girl in that place made my dick want to hide. Fucked up druggies aren’t my style.” He leaned closer, running his nose along the curve of her neck. Her head tilted giving him more access. “Sexy as fuck redheads, with more raw talent and intelligence than I’ve ever seen before? Fuck yeah, that does it for me.”
Harper held back the questions popping up inside her head in response. He thought she was talented? Smart? Compliments of that nature never came her way. Sexy? Yes, men told her she was hot, sexy, and fuckable all the time. But never anything beyond that.
“Truth is, I couldn’t stand to watch you up there once you took your top off. I hate the idea of all those men getting to see you naked. I don’t know why. I never react to women like this. I’m never jealous over chicks I don’t even know. So explain to me why you have this effect on me, please.”
His eyes pleaded with Harper to give him some explanation. But she had none. Not for why he acted possessive of her, nor why she gravitated toward him like her sister to the drugs she’d desperately craved.
They stood staring at each other, panting like wild animals. Every bit of pent up rage Harper suppressed over the years seemed to boil inside her, rising to the surface. With it came the desire and lust she’d denied herself at every turn. Before she could think better of it, she closed the slim gap of space Jax had left between them. With an aggression she didn’t know she possessed, Harper attacked Jax’s mouth with her own, mashing their lips together in an almost painful kiss.
Jax responded immediately, separating her lips with his tongue, stroking it with equal parts reverence and ferocity. He let go of his hold on her wrists and gripped the backs of her thighs, wrapping them around his hips and using the car as leverage to slide his jeans clad cock in the space between her legs.
A moan slipped from Harper’s lips; the sound startled her
and broke her from the lust and anger-fueled rabbit hole she’d found herself spiraling down. She tore her mouth away, struggling to catch her breath.
She hesitated to look up into Jax’s eyes, but when she did the heat there almost made her willing to jump down that damn rabbit hole again. Almost. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this.” She wasn’t totally sure if she said it to him or herself.
“Why?” His voice sounded like part growl, part desperation.
“Because my life is complicated enough. I can’t afford to have some hot guy with just as many secrets and demons as I have to come in and throw everything off balance.” God, how Harper hated the words as she said them. But she also knew deep to her core that they were the truth, and stopping whatever existed between them now was the only thing she could do.
Jax sighed, and something like defeat, maybe even shame, showed through the eyes that tipped her off to the many secrets he held. He leaned his forehead against her shoulder, not seeming to want to let go of her yet. “Okay.” He picked his head back up, wrapped her ponytail around his wrist and tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “But only for now. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. Once I figure a few things out, the two of us will explore whatever this connection is between us, and I will make you mine.”
He brought his lips to hers once more in a much softer kiss, in total contradiction to the grip he held on her hair. The kind of kiss that made Harper want to say screw everything in her life and screw him in the parking lot right at that second.
His words echoed in her head. I will make you mine. Why did that statement make her panties even wetter than they already were?
Chapter 3
Jax
Jax slammed the door shut to the shitty little apartment he’d be staying in for the duration of this operation.
He’d stayed at the club for another three hours after his little run in with Harper. The whole time his dick hadn’t let him forget the taste of her mouth or the feel of her curves pressed against his body. He’d wasted his entire first day at The Beanstalk mooning over a stripper.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
He should be poking around, looking for clues as to where on the property they stashed the girls. Looking for evidence to put George away for the rest of his life. There were too many questions he needed to find answers to. Who knew about the operation, and who was in the dark? How were they luring the girls away? Did they get sold to a third party before being shipped out? Or was George running the whole show from his filthy office at the back of the club?
But no. Instead of finding answers, he’d been looking for ways into the panties of a topless dancer. Jax wanted to hit something, anything, to get rid of this tension building up in his body. But he knew no amount of violence would ease the ache in his bones.
The only cure for that particular ache was hours pounding away inside Harper’s lush body.
In his everyday life Jax never acted like this caveman around women. His last relationship had been before becoming an agent. Since then, only the occasional late night hook-up had warmed his bed. But not one of those women had produced the need that one grope session in a dark parking lot with Harper had. Hell, he didn’t think he’d experienced that level of heat before in his entire life.
He had gotten to his position in the bureau by being methodical, controlled, level-headed. Sex was simply a physical necessity, much like eating and sleeping. Necessary, but nothing more required. He took care of his partners’ needs, but made sure they knew that was where things ended; no feelings would ever be involved on his end. For the most part, those conditions were accepted. Many of the women he sought out to fulfill those needs were fellow agents who understood the tax their career choice took, and the need to keep things shallow. But nothing about those few moments with Harper felt shallow.
Glancing at the clock on the stove, Jax realized he only had three minutes until the next scheduled check in with his handler. He made his way over to the closet and wrenched open the bifold doors that had fallen off their track long before he moved in. He shoved the trunk sitting on the floor to the side and pried up the floorboards he’d made into a trap door his first day living in the place. It made a decent hiding place for the safe containing the entirety of his real persona. He tossed aside his driver’s license with the picture taken before he’d grown the beard and bearing his legal name, which he refused to say even in the safety of his own mind. For the duration of this case he was Jax Miller.
Digging into the bottom of the safe, he found the burner phone used solely to call in for his once a day touch base. If he missed a check in, a second back up time twelve hours later was instituted. Two missed calls and another agent would be sent in to determine his status. He’d never missed a check in during a mission, and he didn’t plan on ending the streak on this one.
He punched the number programed into the phone; two rings and the gruff voice of his handler echoed into his ear. “About damn time.”
“Fuck you, I’m one minute early.” Jax and his handler had a special relationship, one that involved insulting each other and a great deal of cursing.
“A minute early is four fucking minutes late from your usual, ass muncher. You know mama waits by the phone for these calls.” The bellowing laughter on the other end of the line morphed into a hacking cough.
Jax waited while Marlene, code name Mama, got her smoker’s cough under control. “When are you going to quit those fucking cancer sticks and get your ass in to see the doctor, woman?”
“Never. Now tell Mama how your first day at the new gig was?”
“You take a little too much pleasure in using that fucking codename, Marley.” The seasoned agent laughed again, and Jax held back his own chuckle, trying not to encourage her. “Not much happened today. I got a fucked up sex show in the office during my interview, hired on the spot, and started my first shift. I’ll start poking around a little more tomorrow. Didn’t want to seem suspicious right off the bat. The bugs have all been placed. I’ll go through the first couple hours of audio tonight and send you a report.”
Jax decided to leave out everything about Harper. It held no relevance to the case. He’d figure out that particular kink on his own. The image of her effortlessly winding around the pole pushed its way into his mind. Just as quickly he shoved it down.
“Okay, well keep your eyes open.” Marlene sighed, dropping her ever present sick sense of humor for the first time during their call. “Our assets on the street are telling us girls known in the area are disappearing in greater frequency. These guys are getting way too cocky. They’re taking risks, and that’s when we’ll get them.”
“Ten-four, Mama.”
“That’s my boy.” Her cackling laugh actually made Jax smile briefly. “Same time tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
Jax hung up the shitty burner phone and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes briefly. Undercover work was never easy, and it sometimes felt like he constantly shed one persona only to adopt another. The eight months between his last assignment and this one had been the longest break of his career. Enough time to feel comfortable in his own skin again. Being under once more chaffed; he felt himself fraying at the edges, and it only reconfirmed for him the time to hang up the towel had come. This operation would be his last.
His mind wandered to the fast approaching time when he would be able to be himself, permanently. No more hiding behind masks of other men. He wondered if Harper would appreciate the real man under the current mask. Jax was a hard living, alpha male who took what he wanted without question. Would she appreciate the real him, though? The man who, between assignments, preferred fostering former fight dogs and walking them on near deserted trails through woods not touched by humans? Would she be able to settle for weekends restoring his cabin in Virginia and quiet nights at home?
Though, if he were honest with himself, Jax knew that with Harper warming his bed, their nights would be anything but quiet.
Reaching into the safe, he sifted through the stacks of cash, drugs, and paperwork until he found the thick envelope containing research the task force had compiled over the past six months. Profiles of each employee at the club were inside. He had read them before infiltrating the club, but couldn’t remember anything from Harper’s file, which meant she most likely wasn’t involved in the criminal activities happening behind the scenes.
After shuffling through the papers he finally found hers. The driver’s license photo attached came nowhere near to doing her justice, as very few DMV pictures did. But now that he looked at it closer, he saw the spark. The thing that had his mind whirling at the mere thought of her. Just seeing that photo, with her hair up in the same ponytail he’d gripped earlier that night, glasses on, T-shirt covering all her dangerous curves, had his dick standing at attention.