by Joanna Wylde
No, you want him in bed, my brain insisted. You want more kisses like the one he gave you at the Armory.
Unacceptable. I ignored Jess, walking over to him, determined to take control of the situation.
“Thanks for bringing her home,” I said, forcing myself to be polite even though—like usual—he simultaneously scared the crap out of me and turned me on. I also resented the fact that he’d invaded my space, which made no sense at all considering he was only trying to help out. Of course, it could be the fact that I was still a little worked up from my makeout session with Nate. Hayes was just so big and rugged … Every time he moved, his arms flexed, and I wanted to wrap my hand around his bicep and feel those muscles working.
Snap out of it!
“I’ve got things from here,” I told him.
He jerked his chin toward my teenage drama queen.
“You sure about that?” he asked. “Kid needs a wake-up call.”
“I got it,” I repeated. “Let me walk you to the door.”
He snorted, then pushed himself off the counter.
“Gee, thanks, Pic, sure nice of you to bring her home. You wanna sit for a bit, maybe have a drink?” he muttered sarcastically as I pulled the door open. I rolled my eyes at him.
“I’ve already got all the drama I need,” I said, unable to stop a rueful smile. He didn’t smile back. Nope. He just looked at me for long seconds, something heavy and tangible growing in the air between us. I could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. Then he shook his head slowly, as if making a decision.
“I don’t do drama, sweetheart.”
Hayes stepped toward me and I bit back a startled squeak as he stalked across the floor, the ancient carpet allowing him to move silently, like some kind of great predator.
Please go out the door. Please go out the door. Please go out the door!
He didn’t go out the door. He came to a halt about two inches from me, then reached over and caught the back of my head, burrowing his fingers into my hair. Then Hayes tugged me toward him, fingers tightening almost painfully. I stopped breathing as he lowered his head to mine.
His lips brushed across my cheekbone and I shivered. I swear to God, if he’d touched me between my legs it couldn’t have felt better than that slight whisper of sensation.
I wanted him more than Nate, I realized. A lot more.
“You have fun on your date?” he asked, his voice low and heated. “Jess gave me all the details on the way back. She thinks your deputy boyfriend is a douche. Have to say I agree. Nate Evans is a pissant little shit.”
“I know you’re talking about me!” Jessie yelled, startling me so much I jerked in his hold, hair pulling painfully. I’d sort of forgotten about her playing Camille on the sofa. “Stop telling lies about me. I’m going to my room.”
She threw herself off the couch and stomped down the hallway, snorting and shaking her head. Probably just as well—she was self-absorbed enough that she obviously didn’t even notice what was happening between me and Hayes. Best to keep it that way.
His other hand wrapped around my waist, tugging me deep into his body. His hips pushed into mine suggestively and I felt the coiled strength in his arms. My nipples hardened (traitorous little bitches) and my eyes widened.
Hayes offered a knowing smile.
“Your girl told me he’s no good for you,” he said. “Of course, that might just be because he arrested two of her friends last week. Let one of them off, booked the other. Girl who walked free was real pretty, too. He tell you about that?”
“Why would he?” I gasped as his hand slid down my rear, fingers cupping and tightening on me. He tilted my head as casually as if I were a doll, studying my mouth. Nate, I reminded myself frantically. Less than an hour ago you were in bed with your boyfriend. Good guy, not a thug, unlike some. “He arrests people all the time.”
“You know the sheriff’s a good friend of the club?” he asked, his voice mesmerizing. I shook my head as much as I could, wondering where he was going with this. “He and I like to get together every week or so, share a beer. He’s got lots to say about your boy.”
“Nate’s not a boy.”
Hayes’s lips ghosted across mine, and then he sucked my lower lip into his mouth. My legs clenched and in that instant I wanted him far more than I’d ever wanted anyone else. More than Nate, more than my ex … more than my high school boyfriend who took my virginity in a frantic, pawing frenzy when I was seventeen years old at a party out at Hauser Lake. I wanted that big, hard weapon of his deep inside me, spreading me open and pinning me down and making me scream until my voice broke.
I needed to get rid of him and go talk to Jessie.
Call Nate.
Be a good girl.
“He says Deputy Dick has problems following the rules,” Hayes murmured, pulling free of my mouth. His lips traced along my jaw, nipping and sucking. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything, because all I could think about was ripping off his clothes and jumping him.
No! Bad London!
“He also says there’s been several complaints about him harassing young girls. Nate ever mention any of that to you? How about Jessica? She have any problems with him?”
His words hit me like a slap across the face, waking me up.
“Shut your mouth.”
He pulled back, his eyes cool and calculating … The hard length against my stomach stayed hot, though. And the hands still holding me captive against him?
They burned.
“Maybe you should learn a little more about your boyfriend before getting too involved.”
“Like you have any room to judge?” I hissed, thinking of the girls I’d seen out at the Armory. “Jess doesn’t like Nate because she doesn’t like me having any kind of life outside of her. Just an immature teen being selfish—it doesn’t go any deeper than that.”
“I don’t fuck anyone unless they want me to,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “You sure Natie-poo can say the same thing? You seem to think I’m the enemy, but I’ve always been straight up with you. I’m straight up with everyone I stick my cock into.”
“You aren’t sticking your …” I clenched my teeth, because I didn’t let myself use words like that. I wouldn’t let him win by tempting me to, either.
“Cock,” he said, relishing the word. “I want to stick my cock into your pussy. Don’t worry—I’ll get you nice and ready first. Open you up with my fingers, make sure you’re so wet and hot that when you wrap around me, it’ll feel like I’m fucking a goddess because you’re goddamn perfect, London. I can’t wait to feel your cunt squeezing me. Lick your clit, taste you … It’ll be good between us. You know it will.”
My knees weakened—like, weakened for real. Not just a figure of speech. I literally wanted Reese Hayes inside me so badly I had trouble supporting my own weight, which was a huge problem. Then his hand squeezed my butt almost spasmodically, and I saw a hint of sweat start to bead on his forehead.
If Reese Hayes wanted me even half as much as I wanted him … Stop thinking about it! I needed him out of here. Now. Before I did something really, truly insane like drag him back into my bedroom and ride him until I completely forgot about Nate.
The man I’d almost had sex with less than an hour ago.
Oh. My. God. When had I become such a faithless slut?
I put up my hands and shoved against his chest—hard—until he let me go. Reese stepped back, holding up his hands, a mocking smile on his face. He obviously saw right through me. My eyes darted away, which was a huge mistake because they caught on his jeans instead. The giant bulge in his pants made me feel even more unsteady, everything melting and mixed up deep inside.
How could this be? Why could a man I didn’t even like drive me crazy like this? Make me doubt Nate, who’d never done a thing to make me suspect him?
You. Have. A. Boyfriend.
I rubbed my face with one hand, leaning back against the wall for support.
“Just
go,” I told him, refusing to meet his gaze. Instead I stared at the door, pointedly. “Thank you for bringing Jess home.”
Hayes laughed harshly, the sound a rough rasp along my spine.
“Sleep tight,” he said, tapping the tip of my nose with his finger. Then he casually strolled out the door to his truck, as if he owned the place. I watched him, completely unable to look away from that beautiful butt of his. Why was he so helpful and hateful at the same time? And who was he to imply nasty things about Nate? I didn’t believe it for a minute—Nate was a total gentleman, and if the sheriff wasn’t happy with him, he could just fire him. Hayes was a tainted source. Nobody even pretended the Reapers were on the up-and-up, so why he thought he could get away with making accusations like that I couldn’t imagine.
I shoved the front door shut hard, wood scraping as it settled into the warped frame. Loud music burst suddenly out of Jessica’s room, pushing me over the edge. Stalking down the hallway, I grabbed her doorknob.
Locked.
I pounded on the door and yelled at her, “Open up, Jess! We need to talk.”
Long seconds passed and the music got louder. Oh my God, was she really doing this? I thought my head might explode, I had so many conflicting emotions swirling around inside. Enough. I prowled through the kitchen and out the side door. The electrical panel was mounted on the wall right next to it. I ripped the small metal door open, slamming the breakers to the side.
Instantly the house fell dark. And silent.
Hah!
I probably shouldn’t have enjoyed it quite so much, but it was the first thing that’d gone right for me that night. Then I stomped back in, bashing into the stove top with my hip. Ouch. I rubbed the small hurt as I jerked open the junk drawer. Slight miscalculation, I realized, peering down at it in the darkness. I should’ve grabbed the little flathead screwdriver I’d need to pop Jessica’s lock before cutting the power. I dug my phone out of my pocket, flipping on the flash-light app. There it was.
I snatched the tool and stomped back to Jessica’s room.
“You going to let me in?” I asked.
“No!” she yelled. “You can go to hell! You have no right to tell me what to do! I’m an adult!”
My blood pressure rose. “My house, my rules. Open the damned door.”
“Fuck you!”
I growled, sliding the tiny screwdriver into the hole in the knob, popping it open easily enough. Wasn’t the first time I’d had to break into her room.
I opened it to find Jess glaring at me by the light of a candle. “I asked you not to burn things in here,” I said, even more frustrated than I’d been before. She’d nearly set the place on fire a couple of months ago. “I don’t want to die in my sleep because you like candles.”
“Fuck. You.”
“No, fuck you,” I snapped back at her. Jess froze, because I didn’t cuss. Not that I couldn’t—I’d just made a conscious decision when I first took custody of her not to set a bad example with my language. So much for that. “I’m about done with your shit, Jessica. You think you’re an adult? Fine. Starting this month you pay rent. You follow the rules or you’re out on your ass. How’s that for treating you like an adult?”
She gaped at me, then quick as a snake she grabbed a picture frame off her dresser and threw it at me. I ducked as she started screaming, darting out of the room and slamming the door behind me.
What the hell had just happened?
Another crash hit the wood behind me and then another. The kid must be tearing apart her room. I heard yet another shriek, then the door flew open. Jess stood there, bag in one hand and her phone in the other.
“You can go fuck yourself,” she hissed, pushing past me to stomp down the hall. “I don’t need you.”
I followed her, a detached part of my brain observing that she really needed to expand her vocabulary.
“And how—exactly—do you think this will play out?” I asked her, crossing my arms in determination.
Jess ignored me, jerking open the front door and marching out across the porch. Then she started down the driveway, frantically texting as she kicked the occasional rock out of her path.
Just like her mother, I realized. I should go after her, make her stop.
No.
I should make sure that candle was out and then I should go to bed. Why keep fighting? She’d come home sooner or later. She wants to be an adult? Let her figure it out for herself. She just saw the doctor, she should be safe enough …
So instead of chasing down the girl I’d spent the last six years raising, I poured myself a glass of wine and drank it, pondering how I’d lost control of my life.
Nate. Reese. Jessica and Amber.
Right now I didn’t want to see or talk to any of them.
Defiantly, I poured a second glass, followed by a third. Then—feeling warm and giddy and relaxed for the first time in forever—I called my college roommate, Dawn, and we talked for two hours, laughing like we were still twenty years old. By three in the morning I still hadn’t heard anything from Jess, but for once I didn’t care. I just collapsed into bed, reveling in the peace and quiet.
It was fantastic.
You know, there’s a party game I’ve played before, where people try to decide where they’d go or what they’d do if they could travel back in time. Some people say they’d go back and meet Jesus, or kill Hitler, or talk to Albert Einstein … But if I could go back and change one thing, it’d be the fact that I went to bed that night without finding my girl first.
Instead, I’d use my time machine to smash that damned wine bottle and chase Jessica down the road. Stop her. Find some way to convince her that she deserved better—more—than following her mother’s path.
But did I do it?
No, I went to sleep and didn’t get up until nearly noon on Saturday. Then I went to the gym, following my workout up with a pedicure. I felt all empowered about it, too, because I knew she’d be back.
Only Jessica never came back.
CHAPTER FIVE
REESE
I spent my weekend horny and pissed off.
London’s mouth, her smell, those amazing tits … I wanted those lips wrapped around my cock, I wanted those hands buried in my hair, and I wanted my dick in her cunt. Maybe her ass. Hell yes. Then I’d fuck her boobs because I wouldn’t want them to feel left out, now would I?
Instead I jerked off and tried to remind myself of all the reasons getting involved with her would be a massive mistake.
Then I’d picture her touching Nate Evans. Nearly sent me over the fuckin’ edge, because I’d actually smelled him on her Friday night. Like gangrene.
Gave serious thought to killing him for touching what was mine.
But London wasn’t mine. The thought drove me crazy, because I had zero desire to claim a woman, at least not for longer than a night. Still, my gut insisted she should belong to me¸ which scared me shitless. Wanting someone like that leads to needing them, and loving them leads to … hell.
Heather died slowly.
I remembered everything about that day—worst fuckin’ hours of my life. Her frail body, nothing more than pale skin stretched tight over bones gone brittle. Our daughters drifting in and out of the room, crying and begging while the light in her eyes faded. Then the beautiful girl I’d fallen in crazy love with my senior year of high school left me.
Forever.
Never wanted more than one woman and then I had to put her in the ground, cold and alone. I’d sworn that day to never let myself care like that again.
Couldn’t risk it.
But London filled my head until I couldn’t hardly think straight. Apparently I wasn’t a joy to be around, either, because by Sunday afternoon the guys actually kicked me out of the Armory. Said I could come back when I stopped being an asshole, and that situation wasn’t looking promising.
I’d stomped around the courtyard, yelling at the prospects until Bolt took pity on me, dragging me up into the National For
est lands behind the clubhouse to harvest some firewood. We’d make the prospects split and stack it for seasoning once we got back, but there’s something very primal and satisfying about felling a tree and cutting it up with a chainsaw. Gotta love power tools and destruction. Not quite as good as getting laid, but better than losing your mind imagining a very unavailable cunt squeezing some other man’s dick.
Never cared for the good deputy. Taking him out would be a public service, right? But ultimately not even I could justify taking out a lawman over a woman. Maybe I should just steal her out from under him, maybe rub it in his face. Yeah. That’d work. I liked that idea a lot, and the more I considered it, the more it grew on me.
Now Bolt and I were out in the middle of nowhere and things were coming clear. I felt sweaty, tired, and more sane than I had since leaving London’s place, thanks to my club brother’s timely intervention. Nobody ever really understood me like Bolt and I’d missed the hell out of him while he was doing time these past three years. He was more than a solid vice president—he was the man I trusted more than anyone else on earth.
He’d come back different, though. Harder, more cynical than I’d ever seen him before. I guess getting locked up for a crime you didn’t commit changes a man.
Didn’t help that his old lady, Maggs, had ditched his ass.
Sore subject, and not one he liked to talk about. She had her reasons and I guess from her perspective leaving him made sense. But a man inside does whatever it takes to get by. Bolt hadn’t had any allies to protect him during that final stretch, so he’d done what he had to do. She never quite understood that.
Shit happens, I guess.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” I asked him as he tossed the chainsaw into the back end of the truck. Between it and the trailer, we’d cut and loaded nearly two cords. Good haul for an afternoon’s work.
“No plans,” he said, opening the crew cab and digging into the cooler. He pulled out a beer and cracked it, offering one to me. I turned it down, grabbing a water instead. “Thought I might head over to The Line.”