by KB Winters
God, had it only been two days since I’d seen him? I drank in the sight of him, every delicious inch of his broad shoulders and long muscular legs. My mind instantly recalled the way the tattoo on his neck tasted on my tongue, the way his muscles bunched and flexed under my hands. The sight he made naked, the Roman guard tattoo making him look every inch the fierce warrior he was. And as quickly as those images came so did the feelings he evoked—the heat, the tension, the need to have him inside me again. The humiliation of waking up alone. “What are you doing here?” I asked, hip checking him aside so I could step out and lock the door.
“What’s the hurry?” He smiled under that day old scruff that made him look even sexier, damn him.
“Work,” I answered, refusing to look up at him again if for no other reason than my own sanity. I jogged down the five steps on my stoop in my hurry to put some distance between us.
“You don’t have time to talk?”
“I don’t.” Talking wouldn’t help anything anyway.
“Cherie, we need to talk.”
I shoved my bag across to the passenger seat and stood, looking at him over the hood of my car. “There’s nothing to talk about, Roddick. It happened. You left. It’s done. Goodbye.” I jumped into my car, started the engine, and peeled out of the driveway much faster than I should have, but I needed to get away from him before he convinced me to hear whatever bullshit reason he’d taken two days to formulate about why he left in the middle of the night.
I could feel his gaze on me, but I chanted to myself—I will not look back, I will not look back. Because I didn’t care that he was left standing there confused and maybe a little hurt. I didn’t kid myself that he was hurt at all, probably just pissed that I didn’t let him control the situation.
I looked back anyway.
And I hated myself for it.
The man would always have a piece of me, which meant the sooner I got away the better it would be for my heart. My peace of mind.
Chapter Four
Roddick
“What the fuck, man?” Within seconds of locking my front door, I had my piece in my hand aimed at the man twiddling his fucking thumbs in my favorite burgundy leather recliner. The chair sat in the corner giving me the perfect view out the window, at the television, and of both entrances to my house. I accused Lazarus of being paranoid, but I had a healthy amount of it myself. It came with being a soldier and an outlaw.
Brockton smiled that smug smile of a Fed, not seeming all that worried about the gun aimed at his head. “I needed a meeting, and you weren’t answering your phone.”
“Whatever the fuck you believe, Brockton, I don’t sit around waiting for you to blow up my phone.” The man had a death wish because if he pulled this shit again, I’d pull the fucking trigger.
“We have a location on the money for the first drop, and we need another. At least three.” He looked at me expectantly, like I was supposed to jump in the air and click my fucking heels together.
“Why?”
“So we can watch the locations and track the cash.”
These Feds thought everything was so goddamn easy because they never learned to plan for the worst. “And you don’t think Lazarus will get suspicious about where all of our new buyers are coming from since we’ve been against drugs from the beginning?”
Brockton’s lips curled again, full of smug confidence. “Absolutely not. He only cares about the money, end of story. Keep it coming and he’ll keep you flush with drugs.” He pulled two large bricks of cash from the bag on the floor and smacked them on the table, taking the drugs I’d retrieved from a hiding place in my bedroom.
“If you really think that then this operation is in more trouble than I thought.” I grabbed two beers from the fridge, surprise flashed in my eyes when Captain America took one. I popped the cap on my bottle and took a seat. “You might be right about Lazarus having a boss, but he’s not just paranoid, he’s careful. If this shit comes back on the club, we’re gonna have problems.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.
“I know you CAOS boys don’t think too highly of the government, but we’re good at what we do, Roddick.”
“I think you might actually be good at your job, Brockton, but you don’t know how a guy like that thinks. Imagine how ruthless, how intelligent a flamboyant guy like that has to be to stay at the top for so long.” I didn’t know a single gay man in any of the organizations we dealt with never mind at the top. “He cares about money, but I promise you he cares about his freedom more.”
“Maybe so, but we’ve got this under control.”
“You think you do, but I guess we’ll see in the end. Have you checked your task force for vulnerabilities because the Devils have people everywhere?”
I saw that hint of concern in his eyes, but I decided not to go there. “It’s under control.”
“Whatever.” I finished my beer and a stood, a clear sign that it was time for him to go. “I’ll call you soon.”
He thanked me for the beer and left through the backdoor, along the trails behind my house so no one would see him. When he was long out of sight, I grabbed another beer and contemplated going back to the clubhouse. We still had prospects to deal with, and if things went the way they were supposed to, we needed them to be ready. But after spending all day there all I wanted to do was relax with a soft warm woman in my arms.
Too bad the only woman I wanted in my arms was currently pissed as hell at me, and rightfully so. The way she looked at me right before she dropped down in her car left me feeling gutted, wrung out. Hurt and disappointment shone in her big brown eyes, and there was more than a hint of anger in those depths. I deserved her anger, goddammit, but I’d been trying to call her for days. Texting too and she hadn’t responded to any of it which pissed me off. And on top of ducking my attempts to contact her, she was never home when I stopped by. She was definitely avoiding me.
And what did I expect, taking her virginity and then leaving in the middle of the night? If someone else had done that to her, I’d be the first in line to kick his ass. It didn’t matter that I freaked out like a fucking little boy and ran away. She didn’t deserve to have me leave and not call her for two days, and she sure as shit didn’t deserve the arrogant way I’d shown up like I hadn’t done anything wrong.
I fucked up, and I had done so spectacularly. But I could admit that I was wrong, and I wanted to make it up to her.
If she would ever give me the fucking chance.
***
Shit was different when Mick and I met up with Lazarus for another exchange. For one thing, the crazy little fucker hadn’t flirted with me once and I was grateful, but everyone was tense. He walked up to me holding two brown paper wrapped bricks and pushed them into my chest, letting his tiny hands graze against me. “Does this mean your little town is now a thoroughfare for our product?”
Oh, he’d fucking love that. “Hell no. I don’t want this shit infecting my town or the people in it.”
He laughed, clapping his hands with delight. “I understand. Not your town but other towns are okay?”
“Other towns ain’t my problem.”
“You boys are doing a good little business. Do you mind if I ask where you’re conducting it?”
Mick growled, “So you can try to hone in on our turf? I don’t fucking think so.”
I wanted to smile at Mick’s vehemence. “That’s what you might call proprietary information,” I told the man to appease him.
This time Lazarus tilted his head back and let loose a loud guffaw of a laugh. “Roddick, you do amuse me.” He gave another quick clap of his hands before he made a shooing motion. “Off you go, boys, to make us rich. See you soon, Roddick.”
I gave a quick nod, and Mick and I made our way back to our bikes and met up with Torch and Cash. After getting shot a few months back we weren’t taking any fucking chances, especially if Lazarus even had a clue what we were up to.
When we got to Brently the guys took the e
xit toward the clubhouse, and I continued on toward that fucking office building I was growing to hate more with every meeting. The process of debriefing was long and tedious, with Brockton and Johnson throwing questions at me like I was some fucking suspect. They logged in the drugs using specific information, and by the time it was all over, hours had gone by. I knew it was important work, but fuck if I ever thought I’d be doing any kind of work for Uncle Sam again. I knew this was good work though because while I had no problem with grown men and women who willingly smoked, snorted, and injected drugs—that was their business—I had a big fucking problem with the women and girls it was forced upon to make them easier to deal with. And the kids they forced to sell that shit made me sick to my stomach. Yeah, I had a big problem with that shit.
“You did good, Roddick. This is really going to help us out.” Brockton smiled and sealed the money into evidence bags.
“Yeah, no problem.”
“You’re a regular Boy Scout, aren’t you?” Johnson smirked, but it wiped off her face when I stood to my full height and closed in on her.
“You have a big fucking mouth, little girl.” Damn, I wished she were a man so I could lay her out. “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood for your shit.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“How about I let Lazarus know the Feds are looking into him? Maybe I’ll tell him some agent named Molly Johnson is asking questions.” Her already pale skin paled further, and that left me intrigued. Maybe it was time to dig into the little bitch.
“All right, you two, that’s enough. Johnson, get out.” She sneered and flounced out as Brockton raked a hand through his hair. “Ignore her, Roddick, but man you can’t threaten a federal agent.”
“It wasn’t a threat.”
He swallowed whatever he’d been about to say and nodded. “I’ll call you soon, but seriously, thank you.”
I didn’t want his fucking thanks. I just wanted this shit to be over. With a half grunt, I walked out of the building, hopped on my bike, and didn’t stop until I was parked outside Cherie’s house. Of course, her car was gone and there wasn’t one light on, not even to illuminate the porch.
I did the only thing I could. Dismounted my bike and sat on her porch.
Waiting like a fucking dog.
Chapter Five
Cherie
I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open on the short drive home after two ten hour shifts. There were two more hours left on my shift, but thanks to a new nurse looking to make a good impression, I was able to leave early. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was the wrong person to impress since my time in town and at the hospital was limited. I don’t even know how I made it home in one piece. Friday and Saturday were the worst days to work the ER, and my shifts had spanned both days, giving me a front-row seat to the worst parts of humanity.
My shifts had it all—gunshot wounds, rape kits, auto accidents and knife wounds, beatings, overdoses and more than a dozen college kids had come in with alcohol poisoning. I normally loved the ER, but the past two days made me hopeful to find a job in the mental health field. It had taken so much energy out of me that I didn’t even notice the motorcycle parked beside me until I nearly knocked it over. Dammit. I spent too much time over the past few days trying not to think about the man who belonged on that bike, and now he was here. Somewhere. “I’m not in the mood tonight, Roddick.” I brushed past him on the porch, not even lifting my head in his direction.
“Good, because I didn’t come here for that.” He stood and took the keys from my hand, shoving the right one into the lock and pushing the door open. “Go on,” he urged, giving me a light shove into the house.
I didn’t argue because I was too tired, and he’d get bored when he realized I wasn’t playing his game tonight. Without a word or a backward look, I went to my bedroom to take off my clothes and headed straight for a long hot shower to wash eighteen hours of ER from my body. It felt good to be clean, free of other people’s blood, spit, and vomit. I slid a thin pink t-shirt over my head. It barely covered my ass, but this was my house, and I planned to crash after a glass of water and a banana to stop the growling in my stomach. “You’re still here.”
“I am. Have a seat,” he instructed and slid a plate stacked with a roast beef sandwich and balsamic vinegar chips in front of me.
“Thank you.” And just like that my heart began to soften toward him because big, strong Roddick had made me a sandwich. With my own food. I must be crazy. But it felt good to have someone taking care of me like this.
“Beer or water?”
“Water, please.” I could definitely use a beer, but I’d pass out after two sips. I took the tall glass filled with ice and chugged it in a most unladylike fashion, and instead of mocking me he took the glass and refilled it, sitting across from me and slowly drinking one of the pale ales. “Thanks for this, Roddick, but I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can, but you seem exhausted and I’m here. You’re welcome.” He flashed a grin, but it faded as his expression turned serious. “I owe you a huge fucking apology, Cherie.”
I shook my head, begging the tears stinging my eyes to go the hell away. “No. Not now, Rod. I just…can’t.”
“You can’t listen?”
I shook my head, eyes closed as I used the last of my energy to finish eating. “No. Listening will require thinking, and I’m done. I’m at capacity, Roddick, what the hell?” He scooped me out of the chair and stalked back down the hall, setting me on the bed gently like I was some precious cargo instead of the girl he’d hit it and quit it with.
“Fine. We’ll talk in the morning.” I’d already turned away from him and curled up under the comforter when I felt the bed dip and a hot chest sear my back.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m sleeping. Don’t worry, I kept my boxers on so you don’t get tempted to take advantage of me in the night.”
I let out a groan when he pulled me in tight. “If I wanted to get rid of you, that’s exactly what I should do.”
He said nothing for a long time, and I thought maybe he would get up and leave. Instead, he kissed my neck, forcing me to use all my willpower not to respond to his lips on my skin. “If you want to talk about it now, we can.”
“Nope, I’m sleeping until I run out of sleep, so keep your hands to yourself.”
“I don’t need my hands to make you come, Cherie.”
I shivered because, damn him, he was totally fucking right. “Well then, keep your tongue and your cock to yourself,” I told him just as he pressed his erection against my ass. “Sleep, Rod.”
“Halfway there, babe.”
I rolled my eyes, but with how tired I was and the heat emanating from his body—okay, and how good it felt to be in his arms—I fell asleep quickly.
I woke up later, annoyed that I hadn’t remembered to pull down the blackout shades, a golden hue of light peeking through the window. And then I felt the furnace at my back and soft lips making my skin shiver, my nipples pebbled with desire. I wanted to lie there for a moment and relish the feel of his lips on my flesh, but I couldn’t. I had to move before he pulled me back under his spell, and it would be even harder to leave. But when I tried to get up, he only held me tighter.
“Good morning, Cherie.” He turned my face to him and brushed his lips against mine. “Ready to talk?”
“Nope.”
“Good, that means you’re ready to listen.” He dropped another sweet kiss on my mouth, and I struggled not to whimper when he pulled back. “Cherie, I’m so damn sorry. I shouldn’t have left like I did, but if I’m being honest, I freaked the fuck out. You’re not just some girl. You’re my friend’s sister, my friend, and a woman I want more than I should.”
“Yeah, well, you have a funny way of showing it.” I refused to let my heart believe his words because his actions said differently.
“I took your fucking virginity, Cherie. Sweetheart, that means something.”
He turned me on my back and fit his body between my legs, making me both happy and devastated that I didn’t have underwear on. “That’s where you’re wrong. It changes everything.”
“Because you say so?”
He shook his head and pressed a kiss across my collarbone. “Hell no. Because it is so.” His mouth connected with mine, but it wasn’t the fierce crash I’d been expecting. Instead, it was a slow and sensual coming together, a simmering heat that began at the spot where our lips met and spread as our tongues and hands explored.
His kiss made me desperate for more of him, made me cling to his big shoulders as his lips kissed up and down my body, making me tremble. A distant voice told me to stop this nonsense, to push him away, and kick him out. But a closer voice, the hussy inside of me, silenced that voice and told me to take what I wanted from this man. To enjoy every swipe of his tongue across my pussy, every squeeze of his hands on my breasts. “Rod!”
He groaned when I tugged on his hair, the sound vibrating my clit and pushing me closer to the edge. I felt entirely too much, and Roddick took advantage, broad shoulders pushing me wide open and fucking me with his tongue while his fingers squeezed my nipples. It should hurt, but it felt so good I crawled up the bed. “Oh no you don’t, Cherie. Stay right here.” He pulled me back and palmed my open thighs, flattening his tongue so I couldn’t look away as he tasted me, licked me. “Tell me how much you like this, Cherie.”
“I love it.” His tongue swirled around my clit, a delicious tornado of sensations that made me wetter.