by AJ Nuest
Shuddering, slowly lowering himself into the water, he blinked and his cheeks expanded as he blew a harsh breath. “Dammit, woman. God dammit, how is it even possible that sex with you keeps getting better and better?”
She laughed, rolling off his hips to stretch her languid limbs along the length of his body. He lifted an arm about her shoulders, dragging the tip of his thumb down her cheek as she nestled her head on his chest.
Trailing the backs of her nails down the little bumps of his ribcage, she snuggled closer, following the path of one raised vein as it angled down the inside of his hip. “How long, do you surmise, ʼtwill be before we reach the pinnacle of our love-making?”
He peeked askance at her from beneath the thick fringe of his lashes. “Not a clue.” Lifting his foot from the water, he curled his toes around one of the silver knobs and twisted the first…and then the second…to the right.
She circled her thumb and index finger around his manhood, and answering sparks of pleasure flared to life within her as his flesh firmed and stretched inside her grip.
“But I got my heart set on one thing, Princess.” A suggestive bounce of his brows, and she grinned as he flipped from the water to blanket her with his heated body. “I’m damn sure gonna try and find out.”
Chapter 5
“Nod if you can hear me.”
Rhys kept his focus pinned on the dark hallway at the back of the grungy biker bar, rubbing the heel of his hand over the gauze pad and itchy medical tape stuck to his left pec. What the hell could be taking so long? Faedrah had swapped spots with him in Buzzer’s tattoo chair over an hour ago.
“Rhys, are you there? Hello? ” Rustling echoed through the tiny mic Violet had told him to plug into his ear. “Damn,” she whispered.
Rhys shot a quick glance around the room. Christ, he should’ve had his head examined for agreeing to Todd’s suggestion this motley crew ride as back-up over to Leo’s. While the brawn was there, the brains end of this operation seemed a little iffy. Shit, if Rhys had to guess, he’d place bets nine out of ten of these dudes had a rap sheet a mile long. All around, the biggest priority seemed to be catching a buzz-on, and having them around Faedrah wasn’t sitting all that well in his gut. Not that he’d been given had a lot of choice. With Nate MIA, his short list of friends added up to a big fat zero, and Faedrah had insisted Todd’s Harley riding gens d’armes would be the ideal stand-ins for a battalion of palace guards.
Rhys raked a hand through his hair then grimaced as the high-pitched screech of speaker feedback drowned out the thump of AC/DC’s Highway to Hell blaring from the dented jukebox in the corner.
“God dammit.” He tore the wireless earbud from his ear and glared at Violet through the cloud of cigarette smoke ballooning up from the mosh pit of mismatched tables crammed in the middle of the club.
She waved a hand then pointed at her headset. A jiggle of the attached microphone curled in front of her lips, and Rhys sighed as he plugged the com device back into his ear. “Well? Are you getting the feed or not? You didn’t answer me.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He adjusted his back against the bar, shaking his head as she spun around to face the long narrow table Todd’s cronies had set up on the other end of the bar, opposite the hallway leading to Buzzer’s tattoo parlor. Her fingers clicked something into one of the keyboards before she wheeled her chair farther down her bank of networked monitors.
Rhys shifted his attention back to empty hall. One patch of skin was just like the other, his ass. He huffed. Buzzer may have fooled everyone else with that statement, but Rhys hadn’t bought into his bullshit for a second.
Crossing his arms, he leaned to the side as three leatherbacks crossed his line of sight. Okay, fine. No one could argue Faedrah’s idea to get matching tattoos had been a stroke of genius…least of all him. One he should’ve seen coming the second Forbes’ private jet was wheels up for Chicago and she started asking after the veneficus tats inked along the undersides of his arms. But the buttery smooth softness covering every inch of his muse didn’t come anywhere close to a normal woman. Especially when it came to the mouth-watering slopes of her breasts. And the image of her baring that flawless flesh for another guy? The idea of Buzzer eyeballing that perfect mound of skin?
Shit. Rhys squinted at the hallway, willing Faedrah to walk through the door. God dammit, he should’ve never left her alone in that room…wouldn’t have if Violet hadn’t insisted he step outside and get suited up. He knew better than anyone how addictive Faedrah was. How one taste of her was never enough. The night they’d spent locked behind closed doors on Forbes’ island had forever pounded that reality into his brain.
Those two luscious globes had filled his hands like they’d been molded by Faedrah’s sex goddess specifically for him. His cock twitched, and he inched his boot to the right. She’d been wet when he slid inside her, hips gyrating at the perfect speed. Whimpers had caught in her throat right before she convulsed, and she’d clamped down so hard around him he’d practically died and gone to Heaven.
Gritting his teeth, he ripped the bandage off his chest and balled up the gauze before tossing it aside. Fuck, she’d returned every single one of his needs with an urgency that only made him crave her more. In exchange, he’d taken his damn sweet time memorizing every inch of her, hoping by doing so he could somehow imprint her taste and fresh clean scent on his brain so he would never forget.
He slipped the black t-shirt Jon had handed him off the bar and crammed his arms into the sleeves, worked the collar past his head and tugged the hem down to the waistband of his leather pants. But the best, by far, had been the way she’d snuggled against him in bed. Her hair had covered his chest like a soft blanket threaded with silver, their legs and arms tangled while they whispered and giggled about stupid stuff.
That night their bodies had been so in tune, they’d gotten punch-drunk on sex. Or maybe it was the desperation that had heightened their libidos. Deep down, they were both trying to cling to a moment they might never see again.
He lifted the leather jacket off the stool on his right and shrugged it onto his shoulders, adjusting the Nero collar as he took another sweep of the room. The three men who’d crossed in front of him stopped at the back corner booth near Violet’s surveillance set up, and nodded at Todd and Oliver who were knocking back a beer. The one sporting a long brown ponytail spoke a few words and Todd flicked a hand toward the table.
Rhys grunted. Evidently, Violet’s husband ran this organization like some mafia godfather. No one made a move without the boss’ say-so, and good thing too, since that loyalty was pretty much the only thing stopping Rhys from marching across the bar and down that fucking hallway so he could kick open the door to Buzzer’s inner sanctum.
Five more minutes…counting down from four minutes ago.
He’d seen the hungry glint in Buzzer’s eyes when Faedrah had approached him about getting tatted. Not that his reaction was any big shocker. Unlike most of the club’s members, the tattoo artist was second generation. Young enough to be sniffing around where he wasn’t wanted. Besides, any man would have to be half-dead not to notice how she lit up a room.
The second their entourage had stepped inside the dingy interior of the bar, conversations had stopped mid-stream. Heads had swiveled; jaws dropped, and the black leather cat suit Jon had strapped Faedrah in had popped the gears of every red-blooded male of legal age.
Rhys resettled his back against the bar, arms crossed, and counted down the seconds in his head. Whether or not she’d picked up on Buzzer’s interest, Faedrah was too polite to say anything…had too much style to offend the guy by asking a favor and then backpedaling. Even if he was in there flirting with her, eyes all bugged out of his head and drooling like a horn dog, she would treat him with respect. Her supposed “duty” to Todd demanded it.
Unless, of course, the skeeze ball got grabby. Rhys smirked. If that happened, well then. An evil chuckle shook his shoulders. She’d make it so that no wo
man was in danger of getting poked by Buzzer’s needle for a good long while.
Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he slid his focus to the left as two of the dudes slumped into Todd’s booth. The third swung a chair around and straddled the seat. The five men settled into a conversation, the one at the end hunched over the back of his chair, tatted forearms balanced on the table. The matching leather patch stitched across the back of his vest had been stamped in red gothic script with the word Crucibles. Beneath, another black patch displayed the gang’s emblem—a grinning skull sitting on a metal cup surrounded by flames, the phrase Can you take the heat? stamped below in that same blood red script.
The three newcomers turned their heads in unison and locked on to Rhys. The music cut out, and clinking glasses mixed with raspy laughter filled the bar until the chest vibrating thump of Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap crackled from the speakers.
Yep, that’s right. Rhys clenched his jaw, meeting each stare, one after the next. He was the prick who’d dumped this pile of shit in their laps, the first born and only living son of the asshole they were going after. He was also the douche bag who was about to lead their gang straight into hell, Faedrah bound and gagged on the back of his bike like a sacrificial lamb led to slaughter.
A harsh breath blurted past his lips. But what the hell did they expect? He’d been the first one to argue this scheme she’d cooked up was crazier than a bag of cats, but the woman refused to listen. If they thought he hadn’t already boxed four rounds in that ring, they could kiss his hairy white ass. She was proof positive showing up at Leo’s uninvited would knock the fucker off guard. And, hell, maybe she was right. After all, it wasn’t like anyone else had any bright ideas about how to get them inside.
Disgust flooded his mouth and Rhys sneered, smacking his lips. Manhandling her in front of dear old dad is where things were bound to get tricky. The thought alone was enough to burst an artery in his head. But it wasn’t like someone else could do it…not that he would’ve trusted anyone who volunteered. He was the only one who could guarantee she wouldn’t get hurt while being rough enough they could convince Leo the act was real and Rhys wanted to switch sides.
Whether or not Leo bought into the act? Well, that was still up for grabs. But one thing was for damn sure. Leo would never count on Rhys showing up with Faedrah in tow as a peace offering.
Faedrah entered the room and Rhys pushed up from the bar. Thank God. It was about fucking time. She turned with a smile and nodded her thanks as Buzzer followed behind her, one of her hands pressed to her chest like she was about to break into The Pledge of Allegiance.
She pivoted back around and met Rhys’ gaze through the dim clatter. Her eyes glittered with awareness, but she didn’t smile, and his shoulders dropped as she held up a finger for him to wait a second. Shit, now what?
Fisting his hands, he kept his focus on her as she glanced around the room, located Oliver, Todd and the members of his gang in the corner booth and started in that direction. Okay, good. Rhys eased the air from his lungs. Whatever she was after, at least she was headed for people they trusted.
She placed a hand on Todd’s shoulder and he sat back from the conversation, glancing up at her face. Lowering to eye level, she moved her hand to his forearm and her lips started moving.
Anxiety jabbed Rhys’ gut as Todd frowned, leaning away from her. He narrowed his eyes as the other dudes shifted uncomfortably in their seats and traded raised eyebrows around the table. Oliver crossed his arms with an emphatic bounce and mouthed, “No.”
Aw, fuck. This did not look good.
Faedrah paused, staring at Oliver. She shifted her attention back to Todd and kept talking, her heels lifting from the floor as she leaned in. He shook his head and slashed a hand between them, but whatever he said back to her was hidden by his beard.
God dammit, what the hell was she doing? Rhys shuffled his boots, shoulders high and tight, every synapse in his brain screaming for him to get over there and find out.
The guy with the ponytail sat forward in the booth and spoke. Rhys stepped from the bar. Faedrah jerked her head around, hesitated and then nodded.
Uh-uh. No chance in hell. Rhys strode forward and skirted the nearest table. Whatever she’d just agreed to wasn’t happening. Not unless he was included in the decision and especially not since her suggestion seemed to royally piss off Todd.
The big guy pointed a thick finger across the booth, mumbled something and ponytail shrank back in his seat. Faedrah stood, slamming her fist on the table. Heads turned; conversations halted. Rhys shouldered past a group of riders and wound through the crowd, pushing for the other side of the bar.
Todd gripped the edge of the table and shoved his bulk from the booth. Faedrah stumbled back, lifting her chin in defiance. Oliver scrambled to follow, but the guy seated at the end snagged his upper arm and held him in check.
God dammit! Rhys tossed a vacant chair aside, jerked his shoulder from someone’s grip and kept moving. What the hell was going on?
A nod from Todd, and the other two men slid from the booth, arms crossed, creating a human blockade in case anyone got it in their head to interfere.
A violent rage built, clawing at Rhys’ gut. His legs filled with lead and the world inched to a stop as Todd gritted his teeth, swung back and Faedrah’s head snapped to the right as he rocketed his fist into her face.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Rhys leapt forward, flipping a table out of his path. Blinding rage seared the edges of his vision. Glass shattered; feedback shrieked and Violet squawked in his ear.
On instinct, he zeroed in on the large silver belt buckles of the two riders and shoved. A gap appeared between them, and he slid through. Shouting and chaos erupted as he leapt onto a table and skimmed his hip along the top.
His feet hit the floor, two lunging strides, and he rammed his shoulder into Todd’s stomach, tackling the fucker to the floor.
“Wait!” Faedrah screamed on his right. He clamped his hands around Todd’s throat and squeezed. God dammit, the asshole would never touch her again. “Rhys, cease this instant! Sir Todd did as I asked!”
Rhys lifted and slammed the asshole down to the ground. Hands grappled for his wrists. Fists pounded his back and shoulders. The lights flared and pops ricocheted around the room. Sparks rained down, stinging his face as an arm wrapped around his neck and wrenched him off of Todd’s waist.
“Rhys, stop!” Violet shouted. “Get your shit under control or you’re gonna tear down the entire building!”
Two sets of knees pinned his arms to the floor. Boot heels dug into his legs as bearded faces swung back and forth over his head. Faedrah shoved between the bodies and clasped his face in her hands. “Be still, my heart. Please, do not fight them.”
A red welt covered her left cheek. Blood poured down her face from the gash under her eye. God dammit. Rhys squeezed his eyes tight, grinding his teeth. He was gonna kill Todd. Christ, they never should’ve come here. The second his arms were free, he was gonna make it so that asshole would never hit anyone again.
“I asked Sir Todd to strike me.” Faedrah leaned down and dotted kisses over his face, his eyelids and lips. She braced her forehead against his. “We must make every effort to forestall Gaelleod’s suspicions. A minor injury now could ensure our later victory.”
Her words slammed into his brain and his body went limp. A minor injury? Had she lost her damn mind? He blinked and searched her face. “Faedrah, what in the hell are you talking about?”
She smiled, though it came off lop-sided, and moisture trickled from the corner of her left eye. “I knew you would never strike me. Nor would you agree to Sir Todd inflicting me harm. Yet we must do our utmost to ensure the dark lord believes the sincerity of our ruse. What better way than for me to appear before him bearing the insult of your anger? ʼTis a small price to pay in exchange for the deliverance of our worlds.”
Mother…fucker. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. God dammit, the woman ma
de his heart crack open right in his chest. Too bad, one of these days, her antics were also likely to throw him into cardiac arrest.
But she was right. Deep down inside, he knew she was right. He growled, pounding his fists on the floor. None of this would work unless Leo saw it with his own two eyes. The best thing…the strongest thing they had going for them was their love. So that was their play. To appear weak where they were strong from start to finish. And shit, after what she’d just gone through to prove it, he wasn’t about to let her down.
“Son of a bitch,” Violet muttered. “Rhys, I’m gonna kick your ass. Dammit, you fried my hard drive. ”
Faedrah gasped and sprang back from him, her lips parted as she spun toward Violet’s computers.
Wait…what? “Hold on. Get off me.” Rhys jerked his arms and legs and, the second the pressure disappeared, he sat up to follow Faedrah’s line of sight.
Smoke wafted from the three monitors Violet had networked on the table, mixing with the bank of cigarette smoke hovering near the ceiling. The hi-def sound system she’d plugged into the wall sizzled near the outlet. The speakers buzzed, the sound warbling like she’d tapped into some bizarre alien transmission. Beer dripped off the nearby tables, the mugs shattered. The light fixtures on either side her equipment flickered and popped.
A belt buckle snapped, and the guy standing next to her lost his jeans to around his ankles. He mumbled a curse, slapping his hands over the crotch of his tightie-whities.
“What the hell did you do to my club?” Todd groaned and pushed to sitting, rubbing a hand around his neck. He shot a scowl back and forth before aiming a finger at Rhys. “You’re paying for the damages.”
What the…? Rhys swiveled toward the bar and followed the line of destruction. A charred black channel ran diagonally across the room, starting where he’d been standing and leading all the way to where Todd had punched Faedrah, up the wall and past Violet’s station to the ceiling. “Well, I’ll be damned. Looks like I’m back in action.”