by Nicole Fox
I used to think that Risa was lucky. Unlike Dad, she didn't have obedience of The Rules instilled into her by force, nor did she believe in it as an article of faith the way he did. She was born obedient. It made her happy to follow the straight and narrow and do as she was told. Like I said: lucky. What made Risa happy made me infuriated, and what thrilled me scared the pants off Risa. We couldn't have been more different in that respect, one of those cruel tricks that genetics from time to time played. All Risa had to do to please Dad was to be herself, while, conversely, nothing made him angrier than me being myself.
Despite all this, Risa was my best friend in the world. She stuck up for me in everything and encouraged me to be myself and follow my own path. The fact that following my own path was in direct contravention to everything she believed never bothered her. She just wanted me to be happy. The world would be a better place if everyone could be a bit more like Risa. Come to think of it, our house would be a better place if I could be a bit more like her.
"You know what I think?" said Risa, bright as ever. "I think Cor could use some cheering up."
"Cheering up?" Dad looked as if Risa had just suggested robbing a bank.
"She's lost a boyfriend and a home all in one day."
Dad rolled his eyes. "Well she's had plenty of practice at it. How down can she be?"
"Let's have a girls' night out!" Risa said, ignoring my dad.
A smile burst instantly across my face. She couldn't have said anything better. Just the idea of going out for a drink and a dance with my big sis made the whole day seem better.
"No."
But, of course, there was always Sheriff Brian Dugas to put a stop to any suggestion.
"Why not?" I snapped.
"Is there a problem, Dad?" Risa asked, more democratically.
"War Cry's back in town," Dad said darkly.
"Oh," Risa said. "I guess ... maybe another night."
"What? Why?" I asked. "What's War Cry?"
"A biker gang," Risa explained. "Bad guys. And they hang around all the bars and clubs. We couldn't be sure of not running into them."
"They sell bootleg hooch," Dad went on.
"Isn't Prohibition over?" I said, trying not to sound too sarcastic.
"Illegal booze, then." I saw the irritation in Dad's face, but he was more conciliatory for Risa's sake. "Dangerously strong stuff. Even if you don't run into them, there's a chance you may run into their product. I've got a list of places they've been selling to, but there's no knowing if it's complete. While they're around, I don't want you two going out on the town."
Risa nodded. "It sounds like it's for the best. Let's make it a girls' night in!"
"Good idea," I said. But in the back of my mind I was already picturing a burly biker with tattoos all over him, plying me with drink and then ... Well, what happened then would be pretty much up to him.
# # #
It was about ten o'clock when my eyelids started to droop.
"Are you all right?" asked Risa, solicitously.
"I guess I'm a bit tired," I admitted. "It's been a long day, and we've had a bit to drink." No matter how much of a rebel I liked to think myself, I'd never been too rebellious to drink peach schnapps with my sister while watching Pretty in Pink.
"You want to call it a night?" suggested Risa.
"I think so."
Risa eyed me cautiously. "You sure you're okay?"
For a moment, I thought she had spotted that I was faking it. But, no; she was genuinely worried about me. That made me feel a little guilty, to know that I was deceiving my sister so I could sneak out. It wasn't even that I particularly wanted more to drink or to meet bikers. It was just that Dad had said it wasn't allowed, so out I had to go.
# # #
After Risa had headed back to her room, I waited a further half hour, then got dressed (fortunately I still had some underwear here which I had never got around to picking up). I slid the window open as quietly as I could. The tree outside had been my ticket to freedom so many times that I was surprised my dad had never cut it down. He probably thought he was cleverer than me—big mistake.
I shimmied down the tree and hurried to my car. With a grin plastered across my face, I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing.
As quietly as I could, I got out and lifted the hood—you didn't grow up as a daughter of a single father without learning a thing or two about engines. One of the first things you learned was that a car need a battery to start.
Once again, Dad had just assumed the worst of me! How dare he!
Thinking fast, I hurried back to the house and slipped in the back door. There, on a hook in the kitchen, the keys for my Dad's truck ... did not hang. He had thought of everything. Which only made me angrier. Why the hell didn't he trust me?! Other parents didn't do this sort of thing! He didn't take these precautions for Risa! It was so unfair.
I headed back out. If I tried to get back to my room by going up the stairs, then Dad was sure to hear me, so my only option was back up the tree and to bed. If Risa was still awake, maybe I could tell her that I hadn't been able to sleep, and we could watch Dirty Dancing.
But, as I climbed into the tree, my night took a very different turn.
Chapter Two
Asa
The Dugas house was out in the country, and although I steered clear of the roads, there was little to no cover. So I was forced to ride with the lights off. In other circumstances, cross country biking by night would be a blast, the sort of thing War Cry might do to blow off steam some evening. But this wasn't about fun. It was all business, and I knew that if I made any noise, if I gave any sign that I was approaching—like crashing a bike into a Joshua tree—then it wouldn't just be my neck on the line.
Once I was within reasonable walking distance of the house I came to a halt, dismounted, and watched for a bit. Not a single light, and no sign of movement—though it was hard to see in the dark. It was now or never. Keeping low to the ground, I hurried forward—at first feeling like a soldier on a mission, and then feeling like a jackass imitating a soldier on a mission. According to the best information I had been able to gather, Sheriff Dugas's office was on the ground floor, left-hand side of the house. That was the place to start. If the book was anywhere, then surely that was where he would keep it. Unless the son of a bitch was sleeping with it under his pillow. That was a possibility. Dugas had been trying to put War Cry behind bars for so long that he was unlikely to take any chances. But, with few other options open to me, the office was the smart place to start.
I stole closer. A big tree stood on the left-hand side of the house, and I hurried up to it, using it to shield me from the sight of anyone who might be looking out one of the dark windows. I peered out around the trunk, giving the house a final once over. I never pretended that I was a saint. There were plenty of laws that I'd broken without a qualm. But I'd never been a housebreaker. Getting a person nicely bombed on homebrew was one thing, but taking a person's stuff—that didn’t sit well with me. In this case, of course, I wouldn’t be taking another person's stuff. Sheriff Dugas had already done that. I was just taking back what was mine, but I didn’t have a lot of experience in breaking and entering. Really, none at all.
The window remained dark and still, and there was no sound. I started out from my hiding place.
"Hello."
I nearly leapt out of my skin. Not just because of how unexpected the voice was, and not just because the voice was an attractively feminine one, but because that voice came, not from the house, but from above my head. I took a step back and looked up into the tree. There, sitting astride one of the branches in a pair of skinny jeans and a denim jacket, her slim legs kicking girlishly, was a very pretty redhead, staring down at me with a smug smile on her face.
"Aren't you a little old for climbing trees?" It was hard to know what to say in this situation, since I had no idea what this situation was.
"Aren't you a little 'not relate
d to me' to be on my property?" the girl retorted archly.
She was a smug little bitch, and probably quite complacent because she was ten feet above me and safely out of reach. Even had I not been able to see her by the light of the moon, I would have guessed that she was a redhead—redheads were always trouble. Especially the pretty ones.
Another area in which I was no saint was women, pretty redheads especially. In other circumstances, I might have taken a bit more interest in the woman, but I had a job to do, and I needed to know if that was still an option with little Miss Pert engaging me in conversation.
"Who are you?"
"Corinne."
That lit up something in my brain. I knew of Risa, but I remembered someone mentioning that there was another daughter, called Corinne, who came and went. Just my luck that tonight she had come.
"I'm Asa." Maybe I shouldn't have told her the truth, but it was usually easier than lying. Besides, if she had wanted to scream then she could have by now. Her old man's truck was right there, so he was obviously at home. All she would have to do was yell for Daddy and things would get suddenly much worse for me. But instead she sat there, kicking her legs and chatting to me. I wasn't sure how this was going to work out, but I was oddly curious to find out.
"That's your first name?"
"Yeah. Asa Covert."
She giggled so hard, I thought she might fall out of the tree. "What a truly ridiculous name for a biker."
"How do you know I'm a biker?"
"I saw you ride up."
I nodded. There seemed little point in denying it now. Of course, there were bikers other than War Cry in town, but she was probably smart enough to put two and two together.
"I like your bike."
I just listened, letting her talk, seeing where she was going with this.
"Looks big." Corinne enunciated the word with relish. "I mean, I've probably seen bigger, but still—yours looks bigger than average."
I still just let her talk. I was getting a pretty good idea of her now. Some girls, good girls especially, found the biker thing very sexy—something for which I was pretty grateful. For a sheriff's daughter who maybe wanted to take a walk on the wild side, then what could be better?
"Still," said Corinne, continuing with this little double-meaning fantasy of hers, "I think I could handle it."
"Do you?"
Corinne grinned. "How about you take me for a ride?"
"Over my dead body."
It could have been me who said those words—no way was I taking Brian Dugas's daughter joyriding at night—but, in fact, the voice came from behind me. I spun around, and Corinne started in her seat as we both saw the shadowy figure of Sheriff Brian Dugas standing by the corner of the house. He had a shotgun that was definitely not department issue in his hands, and I didn't like the direction in which it was pointed.
"Who in the hell are you?"
"Dad!"
"I'll deal with you later!" Dugas snapped at Corinne, his eyes never leaving me. "What are you doing out here with my daughter?!"
"He's my boyfriend."
Fortunately, the moon was at my back, keeping my face in shadow, otherwise I'm sure Brian Dugas would have seen the expression of dismay on it. What the hell was the girl talking about?
"You’re what?" The shotgun was shaking in Dugas's hands as he spoke. I almost felt sorry for the old bastard.
"Asa is my boyfriend. That's why Logan left. And probably why he took my money as well. I told Asa to wait for me, but I guess he just couldn't go one night without me."
The expressions that crisscrossed their random paths across the sheriff's face were pitiful to behold: anger, confusion, shock, fear, sadness. His little girl had taken up with a biker, and he didn't know what to do. Frankly, I'd rather have liked to put him out of his misery, as this charade had already gone too far for me. But if I wasn't there to pick up his daughter, then the question of what I was doing was bound to come up. So, for the time being, I had to play along.
"Why are you up a tree?" It probably wasn't the first question in Dugas's mind, but, of all those that were clamoring for attention, it was the one he was least afraid to ask.
Corinne flicked her dad a wicked stare. "Haven't you ever done it in a tree? It's awesome." There was a cruel streak in the girl. Clearly, she took after her father.
I was expecting a big speech from Dugas, or, possibly, a load of buckshot, but instead he looked defeated. "Go on, then. Go. Do what you want. Go ahead and ruin your life if you must. I'm done with you."
It was too dark for me to clearly see Corinne's reaction, but I thought she had been expecting something else as well. She rallied, gripped the branch she was on with both hands, and swung beneath it with impressive athleticism before dropping lightly to the ground.
"Cool. We're off." She grabbed my hand. "Don't wait up."
With Brian Dugas still staring, I had little choice but to go with her as she led me off in the direction of my bike.
"Is he still watching?" whispered Corinne, her voice breathless with excitement.
I glanced back. "Yeah."
"Looks like you're going to be taking me for that ride."
I tried to think of any way of getting out of this without letting Sheriff Dugas know that I had actually come to rob his house. Which was another good point—I hadn't done what I had come here for, and time was running short. Tonight had not gone as planned, and the only thing I could do now, though you could hardly call it a win, was get out of there without the sheriff's daughter riding pillion.
"He is going to freak out tomorrow!" Corinne enthused.
"I don't know," I muttered. "I think you broke him."
"He deserved it."
I shrugged. I wasn't about to defend Brian Dugas, the man who was trying to put me and pretty much everyone I knew behind bars for as long as the law would allow, and a little longer if he could manage it. On the other hand ... I glanced back and was satisfied to see that Dugas had gone.
"Right. He's gone. Time for you to get your sweet little ass back inside."
Corinne wiggled her backside in a way calculated to blow the self-control of any red-blooded man. "But there are so many better things you could do with my sweet little ass."
"If you don't get back home then I'll tan it so you won't be able to sit down for a month," I threatened.
It was an empty threat. I didn't enjoy hurting defenseless girls, and I had a serious problem with those who do, but even so, it backfired. Corinne giggled delightedly, pushed herself up against me, and whispered, "Promise?"
Having her young, taut form tight up against me, the smell of her perfume in my nose, and a mass of red hair before my eyes was not helping me to think straight, but, thankfully, I was yanked out of it by the sound of my phone. I pushed the eager little minx away and got out my phone. It was Joseph. That couldn't be good news. He knew what I had been planning tonight and never would have called me unless it was an emergency.
"What's up?"
"Black Daggers, at Fiona's place."
"I'll be there as soon as I can."
I hung up instantly and turned around to find Corinne already perched on my bike.
"I don't have time for this."
Corinne nodded. "Sounded urgent. I wonder how much time you would waste trying to get me off this bike when you could be already on your way. I won't go easily, you know."
This girl was turning into a serious pain in my ass. She was right. I didn't have time to pry her loose from the bike. I'd already seen how she could cling onto a tree branch, and it was impressive. Joseph and the rest of War Cry needed me, not to mention Fiona. Clients like her were hard to come by.
"You'll do as you’re told?" I asked, as I strode over and swung into the seat.
"Probably not. I don't usually." I could hear the giddy excitement in her voice. God save me from wannabe bad girls. She was going to get a lesson in reality before the night was out.
"Hold onto me tight." This time, at le
ast, she did as she was told.
Chapter Three
Corinne
The ride into town was the most exciting journey of my life. Also, the fastest and the roughest journey, as the bike tore over the rough ground, bouncing me up and down so much that it seemed Asa might have been right about me not being able to sit down for a month. But that wasn't what made it exciting. I held onto Asa as tightly as I could, clinging on for dear life, but also relishing the feel of him tight against me. My hands slipped into his jacket to feel cut muscles through his T-shirt. My face was buried against his shoulder, and I breathed in his masculine scent like it was a drug, making me giddy. My breasts were crushed hard against his back, and the whole of my torso rubbed against him as we rode, sending hot, urgent messages up and down the pleasure receptors in my body until I felt like one big nerve. The bike throbbed between my legs, seeming like a part of Asa himself, an extension of his body. The world sped by, but I barely noticed it, locked into my own private little world of heat and ecstasy.