“Thanks.” She put down the spray gun. “I never made it to that fine arts program at college, and I sort of fell into custom painting when one of my friends asked if I could paint something on her husband’s motorcycle as a surprise. He recommended me to his friends and it sort of spiraled from there. I never thought about it as a career until I went to a motorcycle show in Helena with a couple of my pieces and met Big Bill. He convinced me to leave Stanton and work for him.”
“Ever think about setting up on your own?” He leaned against the table, all thoughts of a paint job disappearing when she pulled out her elastic and rubbed a hand through her hair.
So beautiful. He wanted to run his fingers through those red gold strands, feel that silky softness in his palm. And then he wanted to twist it in his hand and hold her head still so he could ravish her mouth, or better yet, her body. She had curves that could bring a man to his knees.
Her cheeks flushed and she looked down, as if she knew what he was thinking. “Um … no. I’m comfortable where I am, and this set-up gives me a good source of customers. Plus, it is sort of like my own shop. I’m a part owner with Bill.” Pride shone in her eyes and Zane smiled. She had never been one to hide her emotions.
“So what do you think happened to Bill?” He clutched the table top behind him to keep from walking toward her and enacting his fantasy right here right now. What the hell could he talk about that would keep his desire at bay?
Her smile faded. “I’m not sure. Connie and I thought maybe the Jacks scared him away. He was—” She cut herself off with a grimace. “Never mind.”
Zane filed that one away for later. Only way the Jacks would scare a man away from his business was if he’d done something to piss them off. Was he paying them protection money or had he got something going on the side? Damn stupid if he did, and even more stupid if he had put Evie in danger. The minute Bill showed up again, Zane would be taking him out for a little talk about keeping Evie safe.
“You got a bike?” He was scrambling now, trying to avoid the real reason he’d brought her here, and it wasn’t for paint.
“No. Can’t afford it. One day though. Maybe when I make it big I’ll buy myself a present. Mark has a Harley Fat Boy, which is a pretty sweet ride.”
Ah. Mark. Now that killed his desire. He released the table and folded his arms. “What does he do?” Middle manager? Sportscaster? Or was he still a coach after all these years?
A pained expression crossed her face. “I wouldn’t know.”
“You don’t know what your husband does?”
“Ex-husband. I left him a few years ago to move out here.”
“You’re not married?” His voice cracked and he drew in a ragged breath. She wasn’t married. His Evie was … free. “What about his boy? Doesn’t he come to see him?”
Her voice tightened. “No.”
Their eyes met and the air crackled between them, as if her last word had been the spark to fan the flames that had been smoldering since that moment on the porch when all he wanted was to drown himself in her arms. “What kind of father doesn’t want to see his son?” For all that Zane hated his father, and for all the abuse he had taken, when Zane needed him most, the one and only time in his life, his father had been there for him.
Evie twisted her hair around her finger and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “A step-father.”
“He’s not Mark’s boy?”
A gunshot cracked the silence, and then another. Zane’s heart pounded and he slid his hand into his cut, closing his fingers around his gun. “Stay here until I come back for you. Hide.” He ran back into the store and spotted Shooter just outside the glass front door, firing his gun into the trees.
“Who is it?” He shouted from the cover of the doorway. “You see Axle? One of the Jacks?”
“Squirrel.” Shooter yelled and fired again. “Red tail. Tricky little bugger but I got him trapped in that bush.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Zane ran over to Shooter and grabbed his wrist. “Put the weapon down.” He unleashed all his tension in a volley of curses directed at Shooter, his mental state, his mother, and his dubious parentage. “This is a surveillance mission. That means you don’t draw attention to yourself. You don’t shoot things. Gunfire has a nasty tendency to rile up civilians and then they call the cops. You want to explain to the cops why you’re shooting squirrels on private property?”
“He was on your bike, gnawing on your seat.”
“Gimme that gun.” Zane grabbed the weapon and fired three shots into the bush. “Take that you goddamn fucking bastard,” he hollered. “You wanna eat my leather? Now you’re gonna be eatin’ crow.”
“You missed.”
Zane handed him the gun. “You got a new job now, prospect. Clean my seat, fix the leather, then bring me that fucking squirrel’s hide.”
“Yes, sir.”
Adrenaline pounded through his veins as he returned to the store, whether from the shoot-out or finding out Evie had split with Mark he didn’t know, but damned if he could get himself under control. He took a few deep breaths as he crossed through into the shop, clenching and unclenching his fists by his side.
“Evie?”
“Here.” Her voice was faint. “Can I come out now?”
He followed her voice to a storage closet at the far end of the shop and found her reaching for a tube of paint on the top shelf.
“I figured I’d tidy up while I was in here and I saw a box of paint I’d forgotten about. Could you get it down for me?” Half in the shadows of the small, musty room, she looked back over her shoulder. “I’m not quite tall enough.”
Zane walked up behind her and grabbed the box. His body brushed up against her, his hips against her ass, his chest to her back. And before he could stop himself, he slid his free hand around her waist and pulled her against his chest.
“Zane!”
“You’re not with Mark?” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her ear, inhaling her scent of jasmine as adrenaline streamed through his veins.
“No. But…”
His hand splayed over her stomach, pulling her close, and he nuzzled the hair away from her neck. “You got a man, Evie?”
“No.” Her voice wavered. “But … I kinda…”
He shoved the box onto a lower shelf and reached around to catch her jaw in his hand, pulling her head back against his shoulder, exposing her neck to the heated slide of his lips. Somewhere, in the foggy recesses of his mind, he knew he was being too rough, but he was barely in control and rough was as gentle as he could be. “So no one’s gonna shoot me between the eyes if I do this?” With his thumb he gently stroked the underside of her breast. Evie sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t move.
She answered in a breath whisper. “No.”
His hand slid higher, tracing over her ribs until he held the full weight of her breast in his palm. “You gonna stop me from touching you, sweetheart?” He feathered kisses along the column of her neck, praying she didn’t deny him because he was already so far gone he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.
“Zane.” She shuddered, her nipples peaking beneath her thin cotton tank top. He circled one taut nipple with his thumb and she groaned and wiggled her ass against his erection, nestled tight in the crack of her cheeks.
“Stop me, Evie. Because I can’t stop myself.”
She melted against him with a sigh, her body softening, and for the briefest of moments he soared, higher and higher, soaking in her light, her warmth, her essence …
He should have known what would happen if he flew too close to the sun.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sarah Castille is an award-winning author who writes contemporary romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them. Her books have appeared on the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Teaser
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
BEYOND THE CUT
Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Castille.
Excerpt from Sinner’s Steel copyright © 2015 by Sarah Castille.
Credits © Cover Photograph Oleksiy Maksymenko Tattoo © Daver2002UA Texture © ELOVICH
All rights reserved.
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eISBN: 9781466860414
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / June 2015
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Beyond the Cut Page 33