“Heroin,” I repeated, though I wasn’t sure why. He obviously knew what it was and what it could do.
“I’m aware, darlin’”—he threw up his arms and turned away—“I just saved you from a life of stripping and being Devlin’s bitch, so I don’t really think now is the time for you to take some moral high ground and lecture me. I’m going to be very pissy tomorrow, so think carefully whether or not you want to add pissy to the itinerary for tonight as well.”
I moved toward the driver’s door, putting some distance, and the car between us. “You do this often?”
His glare was icy, creeping under my skin until I was afraid to move or speak.
“No. If you’re driving, get in and let’s go.” Every word was hard as a rock pelting down on my head as he spoke.
I held my tongue and climbed into the car. He slid in next to me, picking up my busted cell from the floor where I’d left it and dropping it in the glove box. I guessed I wouldn’t need that anymore either, but I couldn’t bring myself to argue with him being so close—and high.
Chapter 8
I drove out the way we’d come in, taking the road back toward town where I had to follow Colt’s usually last-minute and non-descript directions. Without warning, the vibrations buzzed against my clit again, and the car swerved as I struggled to keep it on the road.
“You cannot do that while I’m driving,” I said through clenched teeth, still working to keep the car steady.
“No? I figured I could do so much more, seeing as how I don’t have anything better to do.” He pressed his hand between my legs, sitting the vibrations firmer against my nerves.
My back straightened violently, and I swatted him away, but he smacked at the device making me wince more. “Keep your hands on the wheel.”
What was left of my acrylic nails dug into the black wheel cover until I felt another one snap free.
Colt’s pressure turned to rubbing, and I clenched the wheel tighter despite the pain. He kept me so distracted that I didn’t notice the approaching stop sign until I had to slam on the breaks to avoid oncoming traffic.
“You should really pay more attention.”
“You’re going to get us fucking arrested.” I shoved his arm away again, but he merely laughed.
“You agreed to my fun.”
“Grand theft is not fun,” I muttered flatly.
He rolled his head against the headrest. “Few things are more fun.”
Considering his current condition, I hoped he’d just fall asleep—once I no longer needed him to navigate, that is. As far as I could tell, we were heading in the opposite direction from his apartment, and I thought maybe he was leading me somewhere to pick up food until we ended up on a wooded road.
“Pull into that driveway,” he said, pointing toward a mailbox.
“We’re not... again....” I said, hoping he didn’t have another job—or wasn’t planning to steal dinner.
He only smirked.
At the end of the drive, I parked in front of a small grey house. The porch light flicked on as Colt opened his door, and I jumped, ready to hide.
“They’re automatic, darlin’,” he said in a teasing voice.
“This is your house?”
“Well, I do have a key,” he winked.
My gait was still awkward, although the device didn’t seem to pinch any longer, it still felt strange when I walked. As soon as Colt opened the door, an enormous, white Saint Bernard barreled toward us.
“Holy—” I stepped clear of its path. The dog must have weighed more than I did.
“I need to let her out,” he gestured toward the back of the living room.
I scratched the back of my head, while the dog trotted after Colt, wagging its massive tail as they crossed the room.
Colt was domesticated—slightly. Who would have known?
He must’ve caught the perplexed look on my face because he laughed out loud when he turned around. The instant of humor was short lived though.
“Take off your pants,” he said.
The uneasy tension settled in again. But we were alone, out of danger, and I was finally warm. None of that meant I wanted whatever he had in mind.
“Not going to make anything easy, are you?” Before I could move, he had me pinned to the wall. With one hand, he held my wrists over my head while the other pulled the front of my pants open and yanked them down along with my underwear. “I thought you’d be dying for some relief by now.”
I didn’t believe for a second that his idea of relief involved simply removing the clamps.
His fingers parted me, and mortified I turned my head to the side to avoid looking at him. The clamp loosened, leaving a burning sensation like he’d poured boiling water on me. The intense pain infected my nerves and surged up my spine. I bucked and shook, but my imbalance allowed him to push my legs apart. He dropped my wrists and then sank to his knees taking the sore, tender nub in his mouth and sucking at it. Lost to the waves of pain and pleasure, my fingers dug at the wall as his tongue lapped me, sending quivers up my back and drawing the tension in my stomach into a tight, focused ball.
One final lick—so close to the edge—and he pulled my pants up and stood.
“Is this really your idea of fun?” My voice was hoarse and shaky. I was never going to last six months with this, and if I did, they’d be locking me up for insanity.
Or quite possibly murder.
His tongue darted out and traced his lips. “We’re getting there.”
Fuck. Why did I want his tongue on me? I wouldn’t let him be right—couldn’t let him be right, but I wanted relief so bad. And, on another level, a level I didn’t want to acknowledge, I wanted his touch. I hadn’t let myself give into the illusion as I had with Devlin. The daydream that just beneath his sadistic, tough-man façade he just wanted to save me. I knew it wasn’t true.
For years, I’d lived on the outside—where I’d put myself. I wondered how badly I wanted attention. Even if it was with some man I couldn’t understand—a puzzle that needed put together. That’s where I filed him in my mind. I could never leave one unfinished, no matter how hard or how long it took me to find the final answers. If I thought of him like that, he seemed easier to handle, and working it out would give me something to do.
“What are you so lost in thought about?” he asked.
“Can I use the bathroom?” I needed a minute—or several—to myself.
“Through there,” he pointed. “But if you’re considering finishing yourself off—”
“No,” I snapped. My face burned so hot it must’ve been a shade of crimson.
He jerked his head toward another doorway. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Join me when you’re done.”
That was it? I was free to roam? Well, relatively free. I crept through the house, self-conscious of every movement because every brush of my legs together, every touch of my hair against my shoulders, even the movement of air across my exposed skin reminded me of everything Colt had done. He claimed this would be better, that he was less a monster than his brother. But he was still a monster and a criminal who only looked out for himself.
By choosing him, I rooted myself even deeper in a game I didn’t yet understand. But was allowing his grubby hands and tantalizing—I hated myself for even thinking that word—tongue all over me, better than ending up a zombie in Devlin’s office surrounded by him and who knows how many of his male employees?
My answer was a resounding yes.
I closed the door and let out a long breath. Finishing yourself off, he’d said. As if he thought I’d slip into his bathroom and masturbate—an open admission that he’d gotten me riled up.
But he already knew that—and so did I. It was pathetic.
It irked me most that he acted like that was some simple thing, as if I could go in and be done with it. Even as worked up as I was, release was still a million miles away—a distant goal that seemed like a never-ending war with myself. A battle that could only be won w
ith a powerful vibrator and at least a couple other toys and tricks.
It had never happened during sex, and it sure as hell wasn’t happening in Colt’s bathroom. But it did make his intense effect on me even more unsettling.
I supposed if he was some kind of sexual sadist that made me his perfect toy. Except that I was still convinced that I’d never beg him for anything. I’d dealt with enough sexual letdowns that the thought of not getting release didn’t seem that intimidating. That is until he brought me right to the edge and taunted me with the possibility.
Shaking my head, I pushed those raw emotions to the side. I couldn’t let myself think like that.
After I finished my business, I leaned over the sink, wondering how long he’d really give me before he suspected something and barged in. I splashed water over my face and stared into the mirror. Taking my time and testing the boundary as I considered how the situations I got myself into were getting more ridiculous by the day.
The first time I’d tried to get away from Devlin, he’d sent a couple of his “cop friends” after me.
Had me arrested on some fucked up charge then came along with one of his lawyers to pay the bail. Whether I played along or fought, I ended up in deeper. I already knew the cops were no use to me. Even before my experience with Devlin, they’d never been my favorite people. I always ended up on the wrong sides of those conversations. And now Devlin had enough to make sure that’s where I stayed. Even with Colt, I felt his brother lingering over me. He knew where I was, and it was only a matter of time before he came calling again.
Choosing Colt could take me either way. The possibility that he’d land me in deeper was about equal to the chance he might get me out. If he didn’t get me killed or arrested while stealing cars, I could be his plaything for six months. I could resolve myself to that—to not having to directly deal with Devlin or working in his club. And apparently I wouldn’t have to worry about food or living arrangements either. Autonomy hadn’t worked out so well for the naïve young girl I’d been when I moved to the city. Colt was on the money when he said I didn’t have street smarts, but you don’t really get that in a town with less than five thousand people.
What you do get there are suspicious glares every time something goes wrong. The questioning looks when your family doesn’t show up to any of the big events. Hushed whispers behind your back while everyone tries to solve the big mystery, when usually there wasn’t even anything to solve. Imaginations run much wilder than reality—at least that’s what I fully believed then.
Now, I wasn’t so sure. I don’t think that in my craziest thoughts I could have ever imagined the last two years—and maybe that in itself was my problem. I never took the time to consider all of the worst-case scenarios. I took far too many things at face value. And now here I was, twenty-three and I’d willingly given myself to a car thief. All because at the moment, he seemed like the lesser evil.
I was searching for the optimistic side of it, but I knew all of this—the moment of respite, Colt fixing dinner, tending to his dog—was the calm before the storm. The brewing, quiet tension that thickens the air and makes your hair stand on end. I didn’t need vibrators, looks, or intimate touches to keep me on edge—the not knowing did perfectly well at that.
After a few more minutes, I was finally convinced he wasn’t coming in after me and my stomach was desperate for food, so I walked slowly toward the kitchen. Aside from the dog hair and chew toys, the place was immaculate and simple. I might have wagered that he didn’t spend much time here, but then I had to wonder who took care of the dog. Furthermore, Colt had a dog. That whole reality still blew my mind. My car thief, abductor had a house, an apartment, and a dog—and possibly a heroin addiction, but I hadn’t jumped on that ship yet.
In the corner stood a tall curio cabinet that was entirely dedicated to a collection of model cars. I stopped to check it out, just as Colt came around the corner.
“I was just looking—” I waved at the cars.
“I’m just getting the dog,” he said, mocking my tone of voice. “Food will be ready in a minute.”
“So, is this what you do? Steal cars and women, then come home like nothing is wrong?”
“Well, nothing is wrong.” He shrugged and leaned against the back of the couch. “You agreed to be here, remember?”
“After you stole an unconscious me and dragged me home,” I reminded him.
He snorted, he already seemed to be feeling much livelier. “It wasn’t my fault you were unconscious, and I didn’t have anywhere else to take you.”
I crossed my arms and cocked my head at him. “So now you’re honorable.”
“I think we’ve already acknowledged that is not the case.”
“You claim to be transparent but you’re harder to figure out than Devlin.”
“You seemed to have a decent grasp on it earlier: self-serving, arrogant, conman....” He shrugged and stared out the back window. “What else do you want to know?”
“Why are you really doing this?”
“Just like I told Devlin, I’m bored.”
“So I am just a pawn to create some exciting game with your brother?”
As soon as he smirked, I knew I nailed it. “Yes, but I’m trying to give you compensation. And rest assured, I get bored of my toys far quicker than him, so once we’re done, I won’t keep pulling you back in.”
“Nice.” It was moments like this that I almost missed Devlin’s charm. Almost. Although Colt’s bluntness was stifling sometimes, I hoped his supposed honesty would prove to be a more useful tool.
“Like I said”—he threw up his hands—“I’m not pretending to be a damn hero.”
The dog yelped and Colt gave me a final passing glance before heading to the back door to let her in.
“Dog have a name?” I asked, returning my attention to the model cars.
“Isabella.”
I raised an eyebrow and peeked over my shoulder. “So what does a heartless criminal do with a dog?”
That one earned a smile—not a smirk or a pleasant scowl—a real smile. “She keeps me company.” The smile faded just as quickly. “People aren’t usually my preferred companions.”
“What about Buck?”
“Him least of all.” Colt knelt and scratched the back of Isabella’s neck. “He and I work together, that’s it. He’s decent at his job, so we leave it at that.”
“So, no one else lives up to the Colt standard of excellence?”
“Pretty much.”
And what a high standard of excellence that must be, I thought.
Chapter 9
It hadn’t taken her as long as I thought it would to figure out my plan. I’d underestimated that, but it wouldn’t matter in the end. She wasn’t arguing with me about it—more like she’d already resigned herself to it, so I assumed she wanted to see if I could make Devlin squirm.
She turned back to the model cars, examining them for the third time. At least something held her interest. I had something like fifty models around the house, but I’d put together more than that. They gave me something to do between jobs—something that unlike most of my interests, kept me out of trouble.
I rubbed at my nose, but nothing eased the burn which worsened the more I tried not to think about it. Devlin was throwing gasoline on the fire in a way only he could stoop to. It hit my system like a bomb, warming my veins, my body, reminding me how good it felt when I was carved out and hollow inside.
The only time I can stand to feel is when I’m numb to the world. When there’s nothing left to experience within my own scarred body and mind. Until my escape became something I had to escape from.
I spiraled out of control, and for a long time I refused to listen to Jace and his multiple attempts to pull me out before I crashed.
But then, I literally crashed.
Ran one of my favorite cars up a light post and walked away with barely a scratch.
I was lucky in some ways.
Devlin
and our “father” kept the police off my back. But the next weeks and months were still hell. Even after the physical withdraw passed, I lived in a torment of my own making.
I was never the best at staying clean, but at least it had been a year since I had touched the hard stuff. My family wasn’t thrilled with that. They preferred me high out of my mind. But Devlin was more concerned with launching his new business enveloped in sex, and as long as I stayed out of their affairs, they kept a slight distance from mine. In our family, drugs were never more than a single phone call away. And Devlin knew how hard it would be to climb out again—he’d get his sick twisted jollies off by watching.
Isabella sat at my feet, glaring up at me like she registered that something was off as well. Something more than our unexpected guest.
I clicked my tongue at her, and she followed me into the kitchen where I’d left beef and vegetable soup warming on the stove. I poured Isabella out a bowl of dog food, then stirred the soup.
Aubrey peeked in the room. The skeptical look on her face seemed like she expected me to be building a bomb or cooking meth.
“What happens when Devlin comes after us?” she asked quietly.
That infernal question again, but since I had already admitted to using her as a pawn, what was I supposed to say? “I told you. You may have figured out my intentions, but that doesn’t change our deal. How did you get involved with Devlin, anyway?”
She hedged, pushing her hair out of her face, then wrapping a strand around her finger. “I came to town, got a job and an apartment and thought I was set. Time to start over. A lot of things happened and it doesn’t really matter anymore.”
“Guess not.” Once someone was in with Devlin, it didn’t matter how they got there, but I wanted more, a string to pull, some piece of information that I could jam in his back later. “But for you to be worth two hundred grand to him, it had to be something hefty that went down.”
Ignition Page 9