“What about an Amber Alert?”
“The old man certainly wasn’t going to report us missing or kidnapped. Mom believed whatever the old man told her. School was out for the summer. So the locals didn’t worry about truancy. We starved the first few days until we realized there were fish in a stream we’d found. I happened to have a lighter on me for a fire, and Ethan had a safety pin and ball of string in his pocket. He claimed he had them because of the books he read about the apocalypse. He was such a morose kid. Sen found a great place to dig up some worms. I will say that first night we were certain bears would eat us or we’d be attacked by crazier old men than the one we lived with.” He chuckled as he shook out a cigarette and cracked open the window before lighting it. After a long draw and blowing a stream of smoke out the window, he shook his head. “We had a run in with a skunk and the little asshole won. I’m certain they tracked us down by smell alone. None of us had bothered with baths or washing our clothes during those weeks. We probably looked like wooly-boogers.”
While still horrified for Jake and his brothers, she couldn’t help smiling at his description.
“Obviously you made it back home. How?”
“A couple hikers reported us to the forest ranger’s office. Took two days to track us, and six of them to haul us back to the old man.”
“What did your dad say?”
“Nothing really. He did warn us not to scare our new housekeeper.” He flicked the cigarette butt out of the window. “That was when Jimmie Sue came to work for the old man.”
“They didn’t arrest him for neglect, abandonment, or anything?”
“Ha! You act as if you haven’t lived in Sand County most of your life.”
He was right. From what she’d heard from others, they lived differently from everyone else in the state. With all of the responsibilities she had along with dropping out of school, and not having a normal social life―thanks, Mac―she was a bit out of touch with even the simple things people took for granted.
She leaned her head back and stared at Jake. That month in the wilderness was only a small part of his childhood. She’d heard other rumors and just as bad. How anyone could be surprised he had been as wild as a buck was beyond her.
He was a handsome man, and she guessed he knew it and exploited it every chance. No one could call him pretty as he had a maturity to his face that spoke of hard times. Yet she would love to see those blue eyes soften as they had last night.
Closing her eyes, she bit her bottom lip to regulate her breathing. Just looking at him caused her to want to reach between her legs and relieve that ache. Thankfully, her white makeup hid her flushed face, but did little for the feeling washing over the rest of her body. Mercy, she craved his firm touch. Had she ever experienced such pleasure? His fingers delving into her hot, moist places had awakened desires she’d never known she had. Oh, sure, she’d satisfied the natural yearnings any normal woman endured, but nothing had prepared her for his forceful, mind-blowing domination. She often wondered if she had glossed over the truth about their encounter at school. She had wanted his attention so badly.
Truthfully, back then, she wanted anyone’s attention, good or bad, but for a certain good-looking boy to grab her and touch her, there, even in punishment, and for her to enjoy it, showed how warped she’d been and still was in that way. To her, it felt thrilling and dangerous. And for her to want more? Her mind had to be bent.
Yet last night proved what she felt all those years ago had been real, and she wanted more. Only from Jake. The thought of someone else spanking her, touching her like Jake, didn’t even appeal to her. She loved it when he made her lose control.
Guilt fed the blush as she remembered how Mac often talked of reining in her baser needs and not to let them dictate her decisions. Angel closed her eyes to clear her mind of what Jake had done to her, and how he could fulfill so many of her fantasies.
Big mistake.
Instead of clearing it, a mental picture of what he looked like with his pants unzipped and open. The beautiful part of him. Firm, velvety, and hot. Oh, yes. He’d been hot and tasted so male. Not that she had anyone in real life to compare him with, but oh, yes, he was everything she ever dreamed of when he entered her mouth. She reveled in how he held her head and his hands shook. Yeah, she did that to him. Knowing how her hands and mouth made him tremble excited her even more.
“Hey, you okay over there?”
She jumped. Her eyes wide as she stared at him. “What?”
“You were moaning in your sleep.”
Had she fallen asleep?
“Sorry. Bad dream.” How long was she out? Her neck popped as she stretched one side and then the other.
“It wasn’t that kind of moaning.” His wicked grin warned her he’d heard more.
“You never did tell me how you broke your finger,” she said, trying to get his mind off her licentious dreaming.
He switched lanes and passed a long line of semis and RVs. The humming of the truck’s engine shifted to a higher whine. Nothing in his expression said if the story was as painful as his finger appeared to be or if it was a stupid accident. Then why hadn’t a doctor seen to it?
He obviously didn’t intend to tell her.
She faced straight ahead, preparing to relax again and plan how to let Damien be a regular teenager while protecting him. No way would she leave the details up to the Whitfield boys.
“The old man broke it.” He changed the station on the radio to classic rock.
A few seconds passed before it clicked in her brain that he’d finally responded to her prompt about the finger.
“I don’t understand.” She tilted her head. Surely he wasn’t going to leave her hanging. What did he do? Slam it in a door?
“It was a week before Christmas. I was fourteen. At that age, I thought I knew everything and was a cocky little shit. The old man told me to help Jimmie Sue to take out the trash. It wouldn’t have taken me but five minutes to do what he told me. But I thought what I wanted to do was too important. A group of us boys were going to the basketball court at a local church and dunk a few balls. I told him to fuck off and shot him a bird.” He raised the finger. The tip leaned to one side. “I didn’t even know the old man could move that fast. He picked me up and dropped me to the ground. I saw stars. I never knew until then the cartoons had it right. The stars, that is. But when you land on your head, you see everything including the truth of how you screwed up. The crack sounded as if it came from far away but the pain assured me it wasn’t. He grabbed my finger and pulled it back between his thumb and forefinger. He snapped the tip like a twig. He said he’d break a joint each time I pointed one at him again.”
She was surprised he told her so much. Another glance at the finger made her winced as she imagined the pain. The handful of times she’d been close to him when they were younger, she’d never noticed it, and he never favored it.
“Was it damaged so badly the doctor couldn’t fix it?” She suspected the answer but hoped she was wrong.
“The old man refused to take me. I never told Jimmie Sue what he did. He would’ve denied it. I tried wrapping it, but it didn’t heal right. Most the time it doesn’t hurt, only when it’s about to rain or if I jab it. The last couple days I’ve hit it a few times.”
He passed a stream of cars and SUVs and then sighed. “It was a long time ago. Go back to sleep. If I hear you make any noise, I’ll wake you.”
“But―”
“Enough talk.” He shook his head as he softened his tone. “Listen, we have plenty of time to get to know each other. Hell, I’ve got questions for you, but I need to keep an eye out for the shooter.”
His bossiness didn’t bother her. At some point during their impending time together, she’d need to make an issue of it, but for the moment she’d let it pass. Besides, most of the men in her world loved ordering people around, especially her. She’d learned to pick her battles. It made life a little easier and people tended to respect a per
son who controlled her temper. She had to admit the last few days, she didn’t have anything to be proud of in that department. Maybe it had something to do with being so wound up around Jake. She wanted him in her bed.
Suddenly she ached all over. As if her body knew she could let go, not to be on guard twenty-four-seven as she had for the last several years. She closed her eyes and pulled her knees up in front of her. Turning her back to Jake, she leaned toward the passenger door with her cheek against the seat.
She thought about how his dad treated him. She and Jake made a fine pair. Neither of them had lived an easy life.
For now, she needed him in her and Damien’s life, and she would take advantage of everything he offered, including his body. She never looked a gift horse in the mouth. In his case, a stallion’s mouth. She smiled at her pun.
Jake listened to the soft puffing sound Angel made as she slept on the opposite end of the truck’s bench seat. Her horrified expression earlier, when he recounted his time in the wilderness, had been a surprise. Years and years had flown by since anyone had sympathized with the Whitfield boys.
He couldn’t believe he’d told her that story. The brothers rarely talked even to each other about the things the old man did to them or made them do. Not that the old man was a pervert; instead he was more of what everyone knew him to be. An asshole.
With every word and deed, Angel fascinated him. When she stood between him and Alex, flashing her knife at the FBI agent, he knew she was something special. No one had ever done anything like that for him, except for his brothers, and certainly never his mother. The old man would’ve hated Angel. For any woman to stand up to him or refuse to use her sexuality to get her way, the old man would believe her to be unnatural.
Though few people realized it, he was determined not to be entirely like the old man. He was already on the road to being different. He was attracted to Angel. A lot. He knew of a way to show her how much.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Wake up, Angel.”
Parked in front of Scene 69, a gentleman’s club owned by the family, Jake waited for her eyes to open. Five miles outside of town, he’d received a call about a problem that had come up at the club, sending them on a detour. How would she react to the delay in returning to her brother?
He shook her shoulder. “Hey, wake up. I’m going in. So go with me or stay in the truck. Up to you.”
Pale makeup smeared the truck’s passenger window.
He had a love-hate relationship with the pasty stuff. He admitted he enjoyed how exotic she looked with her black and red lipstick and hair. Her personality even changed according to her wearing makeup or not. With it off, she was soft and feminine, a sultry kitten easily controlled. But as soon as she coated it on, she became all business and focused, even a little dangerous. Heat shot to his groin. Uncovering the many layers of Angel appealed to him in so many ways that it bothered him. He’d never been so drawn to a woman, especially like her.
She hummed and stretched and a part of him stretched, too. Hell, he had a meeting, and being hard in front of an employee wouldn’t cut it.
“Where are we?” she asked as he stepped out of the truck.
Blinking, she looked around owlishly and twisted her back, loosening more stiff muscles.
“I’ve had a problem to come up and need to talk with someone first.” He started to close the door.
“Give me your keys.”
He stared at her. “Why?”
“I need to see my brother.”
“I told you he’s okay.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Are we back to that again? I told you he’s fine. A few scratches and no more.”
“What? You said he was unharmed.” Her gaze fired darts in his direction.
“I said he was okay and he is. When some of the glass shattered, it cut his cheek and ear. Nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry...cut cheek and ear are not okay!” On her knees, she scrambled across the bench seat and reached for the keys in his hand.
He lifted his hand. “It stopped bleeding before Tick got him out to the car.”
“I bet Tick didn’t even take him to a doctor.”
“Quinn looked at him.”
“He’s a freaking mortician. He’s not qualified to give medical aid to anyone.”
With Angel on her hands and knees, and spitting fire at him, thoughts of how he could help her control that temper almost pushed him back into the truck. Hell, her breasts appeared barely sitting inside that tight red lace and silk getup she wore.
“Listen, the longer I stand here and argue with you, the longer it will take for us to leave. So come with me or stay here without the keys, it’s all up to you.”
She shoved him to the side and jumped out of the truck. Her determined steps led away from the truck and the club.
“You’re going the wrong way. The club is over here.”
“Idiot! I’m walking to your house.”
“It’s almost ten miles away. We’re on the opposite side of the town.” His tone showed who he thought was the idiot.
“I know. I plan to hitchhike. A whole lot faster than waiting for you.”
Jake gritted his teeth. Dammit, this was all he needed. He could sling her over his shoulder and force her to go into the club. No matter that it would make conversation a little hard with her kicking and screaming.
Mulling over his options, he decided the clubs were normally Ethan’s territory to handle, and he could just get his ass out there and take care of it. He pulled out his cell phone and pressed Ethan’s number.
“Hey, come over to Scene 69 and see what you can do for the manager.”
“What the hell? Why didn’t Karma call me, and what could be so important for her to bother you?” Ethan bit off each word. Jake knew his brother hated it when his own people didn’t trust him to take care of problems.
“No, she didn’t tell me anything, but that it was urgent, and she couldn’t get a hold of you.”
“I’m in the middle of something.”
The murmuring Jake heard in the background said it was the female kind. Women appeared to be the bane of Ethan’s existence more so than Jake’s, though at this point they could be tied.
“The club’s your problem. I have one of my own to straighten out.” He cut off the call and looked over to Angel.
Stand on the edge of the road, she stood with a hand on one thrust-out hip and her thumb pointing down the road, hoping for a ride. Wearing leather in the heat and with her outlandish hair and makeup, no normal driver would be brave enough to pick her up. And the person who was brave enough to do so would have only one thing on their mind. And hell no, he wouldn’t let anyone touch her.
He cranked up the truck to ease it behind her. Just in time. A large, blue sedan had stopped, and the driver leaned over the front seat, talking to Angel with the passenger window rolled down. He probably hoped he found himself a good-time girl outside Scene 69.
Jake parked, jumped out of the truck to nudge her from the window. “Hi, Tom. How’s Marcie doing?”
“Uh, fine, Jake.” Tom Leaky had a reputation of liking underage girls. Not that anything illegal had come to light about his particular taste, but everyone watched their daughters around him.
“Tell her hi for me.”
“I sure will.” Tom’s eyes jerked from Jake to Angel and then he shifted his car into drive and headed down the road with gravel spraying the asphalt.
“Asshole,” Angel muttered, brushing off the dirt from her pants.
“And you were about to ride with him.” Jake knew who she meant, but he couldn’t help picking at her. “Get in the truck, and we’ll go to the house.”
She looked at him and then back at the road. “Maybe I’d rather take my chances with another stranger.”
“Are you trying to push me into spanking you again so soon?” He admired how she straightened her shoulders and stared him down. The woman didn’t act afraid o
f anything unless it involved her brother. But he did catch the flare of desire in her eyes when he said spanking. She liked how he could make her feel.
Hell, it was mutual.
Angel wanted to deny it. Not that she provoked him on purpose, but knowing if he became angry, the thought of him spanking her in punishment excited her. All he had to do was say the word and her nipples tightened and her clit throbbed with anticipation. What little self-respect she had left where he was concerned caused her to hesitate.
“Angel?”
“Fine.” She stomped over to the passenger side of the truck and hopped in. He hooked a finger in the strap of her backpack before she could protest. She scooted over and watched him toss it in the bed of the truck. With a huff, she moved as far as she could from him. Sure, she acted like a little spoiled kid sitting against the door with her arms crossed over her chest, but she refused to let him know how much she wanted his touch. She needed to feel as if she had a little control over her situation. More importantly, she needed him to hurry up so she could check on her brother. Even if he let her use his cell phone, she wanted to see her brother in person, ensure he was all right. “You’re wasting daylight.”
After slipping into the driver’s seat, he shut the door and gave her a heated glance filled with a warning. She figured she wouldn’t like what he planned to say.
“Come over here.” He motioned with two fingers. “Don’t argue with me. I’m taking you to your brother as you wanted. When we get there, you’ll see for yourself he’s okay, and then you and I are going to have a reckoning.”
His no-nonsense tone didn’t bother her. The Whitfield boys hardly took orders from the old man, no less a female. She was used to the attitude and often ignored it. Over the years, she’d worked hard to show Mac and his people that her gender had nothing to do with her success or failure at being the family collector.
Funny how the Whitfields and Tallys lived in the same small town―in neighborhoods on the opposite sides―but they rarely interacted with each other. She heard things. For one, how Jake and Ethan disappeared after graduation. She always thought they had gone away to college, but rumors said it had been for more nefarious means. The gossipmongers said they returned changed, still mean but quieter, more devious in the way they did the old man’s business. No more wild parties with flashy women or drug-induced orgies. The night Dick Whitfield and Dewayne “Mac” Tally died, the boys were at another bar drinking but no women. They said they were laughing and playing cards, really enjoying themselves. Some even said they were celebrating early, but after spending two days with him, she sensed there was more to the story. The only way she would find her answers was to stick around. As good of an excuse as any. It had nothing to do with how he interested her. How he made her feel. Oh, God, she was tired of making excuses for why she wanted to give in.
Jake: A Southern Crime Family Novel Page 11