Bond (Pierce Securities Book 6)

by Anne Conley

  He returned it, but it was a ghost of what she was used to seeing on his face. The slight upturn of his lips looked painful.

  Well, he was apparently a moody son of a bitch. She could work with that. God knows she had her moods, too.

  At his bike, he handed her a helmet as he swung his leg over, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.

  “We going to drown a bunch of kittens while we’re there?” she asked, hoping for a smile, but Slade only responded with a shrug. “Fine. I see you’re Mr. Sunshine today.” She suddenly had an idea what was about to happen, and it should have pissed her off. Deena Rae didn’t trust easily, and she figured the reason Slade was acting so conflicted was the fact he was about to hand her over to Cecil. As she climbed on behind him, she again felt her gun in the holster she kept at her back.

  Slade started the Harley and they were off. With the mood he was in, she expected he would drive fast, but he was almost lethargic in his movements. It took forever to get there. Deena Rae was pretty sure he was taking a scenic route because this certainly wasn’t the fastest way to get to Ignite from their apartment complex. With her arms wrapped around him, she smoothed her palm over his stomach, feeling his tight abs, lazily trailing a finger around his belly button.

  The rumble of his bike tempted her mightily, the vibrations running up her legs and across her skin. Her mind filled with erotic visions of the two of them on the bike by a lake, as well as all the trouble they would get into. It was a better vision than the trouble she anticipated when they reached Ignite.

  Wind rushed over her heated skin, and she was surprised when she felt Slade’s fingers lace with hers on his stomach. It seemed like an apology, but maybe she was just reading into things. Maybe he just didn’t want her to stick her hand down his pants, which was sort of where it wanted to go.

  When they got to Ignite, Slade parked in the employee lot around back and got off, holding onto her elbow after she’d removed her helmet. Slade carried both of them inside, continuing to lead Deena Rae by her arm.

  “I can walk by myself, you know. You don’t have to lead me everywhere.”

  “I know.”

  And now his voice sounded funny. Deena Rae looked up at him to see Slade’s eyes forward, his chin up, as if he were going to face down a firing squad. Her feelings and anticipations were suddenly reality. She knew he was about to hand her over to Cecil, but she wanted to hear the betrayal from him.

  “What’s going on, Slade?”

  He didn’t answer, simply led her through the back of the building to a hallway she sort of recognized as where the back rooms were, but from the other direction.

  “Mom got into some trouble again. Serious trouble this time,” Slade offered, still not looking at her. “I’m getting her out of trouble, but this is the last time I help her. I’m done.”

  “Good. You have to excise the toxic people and live your own life.” Deena Rae was offering platitudes, but without more information, she couldn’t offer more.

  Slade was acting super fucking weird, and his statement only helped solidify her suspicions. He slanted a look her direction, his mouth turned down at the corners, as if tasting something bitter. Her stomach flipped over and she felt herself blanch. Danger prickled in the air.

  Stopping outside a door that looked just like the five other doors in the hallway, Slade knocked once, then wrapped his arms around Deena Rae in a fierce hug. “I’m sorry. I really thought this would end differently.”

  Before she could acknowledge his words, come up with a scathing retort, or even call him a foul name, his lips came crashing down on hers in a kiss that punished, needed, and loved, all at the same time.

  This was what she’d been wanting after the workday she’d had. It was totally the wrong place for it, and certainly the wrong time—she’d imagined this kiss happening in her apartment, not some back hallway of Ignite—but she took it. Her fingers tangled in Slade’s hair, tugging on it as she pressed her body against his, reveling in the taught planes of his muscles as they pressed back.

  Then the door opened, and Slade ended the kiss, refusing to look at her. She knew then, this was the end. He’d done something that was about to piss her off, and he’d taken his last bit of her body before he left. At least that’s what she told herself he’d taken, but the truth was, Slade held much more than that in the palm of his hand. She was about to be gutted.

  Deena Rae didn’t have to hear the voices on the other side of the door. She didn’t have to understand a damn thing. She knew.

  Rough hands grabbed her arms, but she was still a little off-kilter with the kiss, and she let the hands pull her into the room. Slade was pulled, too, and it was almost funny that he seemed to be mad about it.

  “What the fuck, Cecil?!” Slade was fighting the arms holding him back, and his face was murderous. Deena Rae snapped to attention, the fog of the kiss melting away.

  Her eyes wandered until they met a man who stood in the corner, chuckling as he watched his goons manhandle Slade and Deena Rae. Apparently, it was a shock to Slade. He was really resenting the manhandling business. Which begged the question: Had he set her up for it and he was shocked the tables had turned? As she took in the situation, she thought so.

  Slade’s words from last night came back to her, his fear of Cecil killing him if he didn’t go along with the slimeball’s nefarious plans. Her own fear ratcheted up a notch or two as she watched him struggle, all the power of his body seeming to make no dent against the ‘roided-out goons holding him.

  Deena Rae fought the dozen sharp knives of betrayal rising up her spine. Slade had set her up—using her this whole time for whatever with Cecil—and she would fucking kill him. After Cecil got finished with him, of course. Deena Rae dug deep in her reserves for what she needed to survive this mess. Her old standby—anger—had gotten her through many situations.

  Steely arms still held Deena Rae in a tight grip, her elbows behind her. A youngish guy came to her front, leering while he frisked her, getting more than familiar as he groped her breasts, slid his hand up her thighs, and cupped her crotch. Thankfully, he seemed too intent on grabbing the goodies to feel the knife strapped to her outer thigh, but it was under her pants, and not a super handy spot for her to reach it. At least she had it, though, along with her wits.

  Deena Rae used the leverage of the man holding her to kick the asshole in the nose.

  “God dammit!” Blood spurted from between his fingers as he held his face.

  “Quit crying, Austin, and get this back-holster,” grunted the man holding her arms.

  Austin gave a morbid grin as he dripped his blood all over her while reaching around for the Glock she kept at her back. As he relieved her of her defences, the blood seeped through his teeth, making him look like he’d just gone nine rounds with Quinten.

  Deena Rae could use some of the guys from Pierce right about now. She wistfully thought of Ryan, Simon, and even Andrew, as the entire Pierce Securities team’s faces flitted through her mind. She was an ass for not listening to their warnings.

  Slade appeared to have calmed down and was standing still with two other guys holding his arms. They all watched Deena Rae with a strange fascination. But she didn’t give a shit anymore.

  It hurt to look at the asshole. Finally, the anger had bubbled to the surface. She grabbed it, clenching it in her belly, where it spread through her limbs in a red-hot rage.

  “So what’s next, Cecil?” she asked. “You gonna rape me? Kill me? Sell me? Just beat the shit out of me?” Laughing, she sank into the man holding her. “Or just let me kick the shit out of all your men?” She saved her strength to keep fighting, waiting for someone else to get within kicking distance of her. Meanwhile, the rage bubbled and simmered just below the surface.

  Cecil Hodges pushed himself off the wall and strode over to her, staying far enough away she couldn’t kick him, too. “I think I’m just going to let you two stew for a bit. No need in acting hastily.” He opened his jacket to reach fo
r a cigar from his pocket and made a big production of lighting it—licking the end, cutting it, sucking on it in great big puffs, and blowing a cloud of foul-smelling smoke in her face.

  A sarcastic grin crossed her face. She knew her next words would piss him off, but Deena Rae couldn’t help herself. “Jesus, you know how phallic that fucking looks? Compensating for the tiny dick you’re sporting in there?” She glanced pointedly at his crotch as she heard a sharp bark of laughter from Slade.

  Cecil’s eyes flashed anger first, then disbelief, and Deena felt a burst of adrenaline coursing through her.

  The man holding her had apparently fallen into complacency because when the renewed purpose hit her, she struggled and freed her arms. He grabbed at her waist, but not before she managed to squirm loose.

  In an instant, she was on Cecil, who’d backed up and thrown his arms in front of his face. Deena Rae managed to land a couple of great kidney shots before being grabbed again and yanked away. She was thrown against a wall by Austin and the man she could only presume had been holding her arms behind her.

  “He’s not going to like that,” the nameless man said, looking a bit apologetic.

  Slade still struggled. Austin had given Deena Rae’s Glock to Cecil, and Deena Rae felt a momentary panic as he checked it—ratcheting back the slide back to see if it was loaded—cocked it, and walked over to Slade.

  Fuck. He wasn’t going to kill him right here, was he?

  Cecil hit him over the back of his head with it. Slade’s massive body went limp in the goon’s arms as he lost consciousness, his face going from pissed to slack in a heartbeat.

  “There. Now, take him next door and tie him up. Then come back in here and help these two dumbasses get her into a chair and restrained. This is fucking ridiculous.” He spat at Deena Rae’s feet and stalked out the door.

  Deena Rae had never understood that. Why spit at someone’s feet? Was that some weird sort of organized crime thing? Like a secret handshake or something? She could only assume as much, since that’s what she’d stumbled onto with this case. Cecil was obviously running some sort of organized crime operation here, and she’d missed the evidence to stop him before it got to this.

  She was angry at herself more than anything else. She’d known getting involved with Slade was a bad idea. She could justify things all she wanted to—she’d used him to work the case, the amazing sex, whatever—but the truth was, she’d ignored everything anyway and done her own thing. That’s what had gotten her into trouble.

  Slade had only done what he said he would do. He had warned her from the beginning. He was a train wreck, and she’d forced herself on him anyway. He’d had to take her down with him.

  By the looks of things, that had backfired on him. As the hired guns struggled with his limp body, dragging it out the door, Deena Rae stifled the pangs of fear and regret threatening to overcome her.

  She focused instead on the anger again. This time, though, she was angry at Slade.

  He’d said something about his mom, but that didn’t mean jack shit as far as she was concerned. It all just sounded like a line. A line she had fallen for—hook, line, and sinker.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Slade woke up pissed off. No, as his head pounded and he took stock, he was more than fucking pissed. It was a good thing he was restrained. If he hadn’t been, he’d kill the next fucking person who walked through the doorway.

  He’d done what he was supposed to do. His mom was supposed to be released now, and he was going to take her home, make sure she was okay, then give her a piece of his mind. He was going to rail at her for being duped by Cecil and getting involved with the wrong sorts of guys. For using him. For using Deena Rae. And then he was going to see if there was anything he could do to make things right again with Deena Rae. If he couldn’t, which he doubted he could, he was just going to leave. There wasn’t anything for him here, anyway.

  Slade struggled against the duct tape holding him to the chair, but there wasn’t anything to do. He was totally stuck and completely at Cecil’s mercy. Exactly where he didn’t want to be.

  He started yelling, a vain yet desperate attempt at freedom. “Cecil! Let me the fuck out of here! You promised!” Like Cecil would just waltz in here and let him go. He knew better. But for the life of him, he couldn’t come up with anything better and continued to yell himself hoarse.

  After an hour of yelling at the walls, a scratching at the lock held his attention. When the door opened, he was at a loss.

  “Mom.” She was dressed up in a fancy, skin-tight dress, her hair fixed in wild curls around her face, her makeup pristine. No sign of the bloody pulp he’d been texted this morning. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

  Lori smiled at Slade as she entered the room. “Yes, honey. I’m fine. We just decided to play a little trick on you.” She turned to the door. “Cecil, sweetie, come let him up now.”

  Slade’s mind spun as Cecil came into the room, shut the door, and slid his arm around Lori’s waist. “The fuck?” Slade muttered, his brain desperate to not believe what he was seeing.

  His mother—the woman he’d just sacrificed a future with Deena Rae to save—was, in fact, alive and well. And giggling.

  Lori stroked Cecil’s chest as she looked at him with the hazy eyes of a teenager in love.

  “Cecil needed you to get that …” Lori paused, her lips turning up in a sneer. “… girl who’s been poking around. And I helped him convince you.” She smiled at Slade like she hadn’t just rocked his world.

  Cecil took a step forward, unraveling himself from Lori’s clutches. He stepped toward Slade and pulled up a chair, sitting down like they were about to have a man-to-man chat. Slade’s chest tightened.

  “I have a son. He’s a sweet little nine-year-old. His mother, however, isn’t so sweet. We were never married, and now, in addition to the child support I already pay her, she’s insisting on taking away my boy. I can’t have that. Your girl is helping to take him away from me forever. I love my boy, just like your mama loves you.” Cecil talked to Slade as if he were a toddler, his tobacco-and-vodka-laden breath hitting Slade’s face, his tone patronizing.

  Slade gripped the arms of the chair he was taped to in an effort to rip them off and pummel Cecil with them. But nothing happened. His muscles bulged and his tendons popped, but it was all for show. He couldn’t get loose.

  “She’s doing a fucking job. It wasn’t personal. If she didn’t do it, your ex would hire someone else to do it.” Slade could feel the tendons in his neck as they expanded with the tension. He seethed. When he got loose, everybody would be dead to him. He was done with his mom. But first, he wanted her to know. He looked her dead in the eyes. “I love her, Mom. You fucked up the one good thing I had going.” His words surprised himself, and he couldn’t be sure if he spoke them in the heat of the moment or not, but he could examine that later. Right now, the look of surprised pleasure on his mom’s face only made him want to vomit.

  “The ex is being taken care of, but I can’t have anything coming back to me, you understand?” Cecil’s voice was deadly quiet. “I wanted to do this differently, but you never really bit the bait.”

  Slade shook his head. It pounded, but he wasn’t sure what he was listening to. Nothing made sense to him.

  “I sent you to all those parties, had my people offer you girls, drugs, all sorts of things to get you on my side.”

  “Slade’s always been a good boy,” Lori added, looking at Slade fondly. She came up behind Cecil and laid a hand on his shoulder. Slade felt like he was being used, but he couldn’t figure out for what.

  “Is that why you got my mother involved?” He needed shit spelled out for him. He wasn’t putting two and two together.

  “Yep.” Cecil’s voice took on a jovial tone, so unlike the previous deadly quiet, Slade wasn’t sure what to think. It’s like he was being kept off-kilter on purpose. “It’s exactly why.” Cecil ignored the look on Lori’s face—the look that told
Slade this was news to her.

  “But, baby …”

  “Slade’s right. I think we’re done.”

  She backed up, her hands in front of her, and Slade fought against his restraints one last time. He watched as Cecil pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket and leveled it at his mom, Cecil’s arm straightening, and his finger tightening around the trigger. Everything seemed like it was moving in slow motion.

  “No! Don’t!” Slade had never yelled so loud in his life. It was as if the strength of his voice could actually physically stop Cecil.

  But it couldn’t. It wouldn’t.

  With a mighty roar and a cloud of smoke, the gun went off, and Lori fell, her feet poking out from behind a pile of boxes stacked in the corner where she’d fallen.

  “You son of a bitch!” Slade yelled, fighting with everything he had against the duct tape. How could something made of plastic be so damned effective in keeping him restrained? It was ridiculous. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

  Cecil merely smiled at Slade before slipping out the door and leaving him with his mother’s dead body.

  Panic gripped him as he stared at his mother’s shoes sticking out from the pile of boxes. A morbid part of him wondered if her eyes were closed or if she were staring sightless at the ceiling.

  She pissed him off on a daily basis, but he’d never wanted her dead.

  What the fuck was Cecil going to do with Deena Rae? His heart pounded, yet he still tried to get free from his bindings. Every muscle ached with straining against them, but he couldn’t stop trying. He had to get to her.

  The door opened again, and Austin came inside. He’d underestimated this entire operation, Austin included. Slade had thought the kid was just a pet of Cecil’s, a favorite. He didn’t realize Austin was a henchman so deeply entrenched in Cecil’s mess.

  He’d never noticed the mean glint to his eyes before, either.

  Austin approached him, his nose taped where Deena Rae had broken it before, and a snarl graced his lips.