Stripped Raw

by Miss Merikan

  Sam scowled. “Baby, it was club business. All I did for fun was get a few beers.”

  “Oh.” She went silent, unsure if she should prod him about it further or not. “You sure you didn’t sleep with any movie stars while you were there?” She gave a nervous laugh.

  “No, but I think I might have seen Bill Murray in a telephone booth by the road once,” he said, winking at her. There was no telling whether he was serious or joking.

  Why was she so nervous? They’d had phone sex, they’d sexted, and now she felt awkward around him, unsure where she stood or what he thought about her. Maybe instead of piquing his interest, all the sexy chat turned him off, and now he wasn’t all that bothered about her anymore?

  “Do you think Borg would um … need some more brownies any time soon?” She could definitely use extra money.

  Sam exhaled and slowly moved his arm over the wall behind their backs. Jolie expected its weight even before it settled around her shoulders. “We can’t have any special cakes now, but I suppose normal cake would be nice. Yours is better than the one the girls make.”

  A pleasant tingle spread in Jolie’s chest. Of course, he’d say that. He’d say that even if it weren’t true. “Trying to do my best. I’m thinking of pitching my cakes to my boss at the diner, but I still don’t feel ready for that.”

  “Why’s that? Does his wife do the ones you serve now, or something?”

  “Wife?” Jolie laughed. “That guy’s gonna be a bachelor forever. I’m worried they’re not good enough yet.”

  Sam gave her a sideways glance. “Did you have too many of those special brownies, or something? What would be wrong with your cakes?”

  “I’m worried I won’t be able to keep up with providing them daily, or whether the customers would even like them.”

  They slowly drove back into the highway as Sam glanced at her with a small smile. “Why, is your oven as wrecked as your car?”

  “Hey!” She laughed and poked his side. “My oven’s fine. Okay, okay, I’ll give it a shot. He does like me, so maybe he’ll give me a trial run.”

  Sam leaned back, but his hand was gently pulling on Jolie, bringing her ever closer to his warm body. He actually smelled of motor oil, and she found it strangely arousing on him.

  Jolie sat closer, stroking the side of his body with her knuckles. She could melt into the safety of his embrace if it weren’t for the fact that Sam wasn’t really looking for anything serious. Jolie was probably a cute conquest for him—One that he’d have to put in a bit more effort into, but still just that. Having her own business and living alone built up her confidence, but on the other hand, falling asleep next to a man as thick with muscle as Sam would make her feel less lonely, like there was an immovable force in her life.

  They talked about anything and everything, even Sam’s tweaks on his motorcycle and the paintwork Red Jack was supposed to do on it. Jolie didn’t understand much about mechanics, but she was happy to listen to Sam’s enthusiasm. She never rode a motorcycle, and as soon as she said that, Sam corrected her that it wasn’t just any old bike, but a Harley. He promised to take her for a ride and show her the difference. Jolie could bet he’d be speeding, but she was up for the thrill, eager to feel the power of the machine between her legs and smell Sam’s leathers. She already knew she’d love it, and he’d know that as well. This was yet another trap Jolie was setting for herself.

  Sam tried to discuss Jolie’s dream car after that, but all she was interested in at this point was a functioning car, not the junk they were towing. Time passed quick as a breeze, and she was really regretful when they finally arrived at the garage. Sam drove the truck all the way to the back and left Jolie inside, needing to speak to someone before he could check what was wrong with her pile of junk on wheels.

  Jolie looked into the mirror to check her makeup, only to remember that she left her handbag on the backseat of her car. She groaned and pulled herself out of the cab, careful not to break the stilettos of her heels. Sam got her so worked up that she forgot she even had anything else on her.

  She carefully climbed on the back of the tow truck, cursing her cute red shoes each step of the way, but she didn’t want to damage her stockings either. Eventually, she opened the passenger door of her car and climbed in, smoothing out her dress. What a fuck-up.

  Her luck wasn’t changing either. The moment she grabbed her bag, the fastening came open, and the insides of her purse flooded the floor in a mix of makeup, bubble gum, pens, business cards, tampons, and condoms. She swore beneath her breath and climbed into the back to pick everything up from the floor. The last thing she wanted was for Sam to find her mess when he was taking a look at her car.

  She was still bent over with her head under the dashboard when she overheard voices outside. One was low and raspy, something you’d expect from the henchman of a cartoon villain, and the other sounded smooth, almost velvety.

  “So it’s Adriana’s husband? The bald guy with glasses?” asked Smooth, and Jolie stiffened, hearing it from behind the door. They were right outside the tow truck. The last thing she needed.

  “Yes, he needs to go,” said the one with the raspy voice. “Do you have the knife I gave you for the job? It’s got Paulson’s fingerprints all over it.”

  “Is it the one he was playing with during the raid? Thought he kept it.”

  Jolie’s eyes went wide, and she held her breath, hiding lower under the seat. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “No. The idiot stabbed it into Borg’s desk, trying to prove a point. Fuck knows what point that was. Probably the point that he has no brain.”

  Jolie didn’t want to hear any of this. She just wanted to sell cupcakes, pay off Jake’s debts, and live a free, if poor, life. Did Sam know about this?

  Smooth groaned. “I’m gonna do it tonight. And once we have the knife covered with DNA, Paulson’s gonna talk. No cop wants to end up in jail. Especially not him.”

  Jolie inched forward to lay as flat on the seat as possible. The voices went silent, but as soon as she sighed in relief, her heartbeat picked up again when she felt the floor beneath her knees tilt slightly.

  She froze. With the condoms in one hand and a small bottle of perfume in the other, she was completely stiff with fear, and even her eyes started pulsing as she waited for the inevitable.

  “What are you doing here?” asked the smooth voice just as a shadow blocked sunlight from tickling Jolie’s skin.

  She swallowed and slowly turned around, dropping the items in her hands.

  “Who the fuck is it, Monster?” yelled the rough voice as she faced a young man with a handsome, yet expressionless face, and the barrel of his gun.

  She couldn’t breathe, and her chest ached as if it had been pierced by the knife they’d been talking about.

  The steel-grey eyes narrowed. “That hash brownie bitch.”

  “I-I was just picking up some stuff,” she uttered breathlessly, holding her hands up. Her insides twisted in pure terror. Up to this moment in her life, she’d never contemplated death. Even when Bastian and Goldy showed their ugly mugs at her door, Jolie never actually imagined them killing her. Her happy bubble burst with that cold steel pointed at her. She could die here. Her family in Kansas didn’t even know her exact address, so they wouldn’t know where to look once they hadn’t received a Christmas card.

  “The fuck is she doing here? Bring her,” said the other man, who was still out of her sight.

  The blond stepped back and made a gesture with the gun. There was nothing behind those eyes, not even a shadow of pity for her desperate situation. “Get out. Now.”

  She swallowed and opened the door. She moved as if in slow motion, her legs shivering, not wanting to carry her forward. But they did. Step after shaky step, she walked to the edge of the bed of the truck, now realizing the man with the raspy voice, the man who was planning to murder someone, was Glock, the husband of a woman she’d met at Gina’s birthday. He didn’t look so scary after a beer and
two shots of tequila. Now, she couldn’t decide whether the muscles bulging in his arms or the barrel of a gun undoubtedly pointed at the back of her head were more frightening.

  Glock gritted his teeth and grabbed her arm, pulling her down so hard she fell on him when one of her sparkly, ruby high heels ended up not landing straight. “Fuck, bitch, what were you thinking? This isn’t Kansas anymore!”

  She could feel one of the stilettos crooking under her weight.

  “I was here to get my car fixed. I just wanted to get my bag …” She tried not to stutter, but her teeth clattered when Glock grabbed one of her braids.

  “You’ve put us in a fucked-up position, darling,” he groaned. The endearment did nothing to make her feel any less nauseated. “I can’t know what you heard, but I can’t believe if you tell me it was ‘nothing’ either.”

  The one called Monster jumped off the truck and put the barrel of his gun against Jolie’s stomach. She could feel the cold brush of steel through the fabric so vividly she wanted to vomit.

  “What do we do with her?”

  Jolie tried to squirm away, but Glock wrapped her braid over his hand and pulled.

  “I’m losing patience, bitch. Stay put.”

  Jolie tried to say something, but all that came out were gasps and sobs.

  Glock forced her to look into his eyes. “I’m afraid we need to be sure you don’t talk to anyone.”

  Monster stepped even closer, and his gun slipped lower, pressing into Jolie’s pubic bone. “Should I take her away?”

  “I wouldn’t talk to anyone about anything,” Jolie uttered with tears already streaking down her cheeks.

  “No, you won’t. Monster, we just need to give the lady a fair warning. So she knows what she’s scared of. People make stupid decisions when they don’t realize how much they have to lose. Bring me some nails,” Glock said without blinking, his nostrils flaring.

  “And a hammer?” asked Monster, stepping back. He put the safety on and hid his gun in the holster under his arm.

  Glock’s huge palm squeezed around Jolie’s arm, and he started pulling her toward the building. “Let’s go somewhere more private. Shame, such a pretty girl,” he muttered with a shake of his head.

  Jolie struggled against Glock’s arm, but it might as well be made of concrete. A thousand petrifying scenarios played out in her head on what could be done to her with a few nails and a hammer. This wasn’t her life. This was a nightmare. She just needed to wake up. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to stop crying.

  “What the fuck are you doing with her?” The familiar voice made her knees even softer, and when she opened her eyes, the blurry figure in coveralls was already rushing to her aid.

  “Sam,” she managed to choke out. “Please don’t let them do this to me. Please, please, please, I’m scared enough, I wouldn’t say a thing.” Every word came with a sob, but Glock’s arm was unyielding.

  “We found her hiding in the car,” Glock said in that rough voice.

  Sam blocked their way, all bristled up. His face only reached to Glock’s chest, but he looked every bit as feral and dangerous.

  Showing his teeth, he growled, “I brought her here. Of course she was in the car.”

  Monster stepped closer. “We were talking business.”

  Sam got into his face and pushed at his chest. “Shut the fuck up, prospect. You have no say in this. Maybe you should have chosen a better place than the backyard of the fucking garage where we have customers coming over all the freaking time,” he hissed, red faced.

  Monster took a step back without a word, but Glock just yanked harder on Jolie’s braid.

  “But it fucking happened. You’re all over this bitch, aren’t you?” Glock squinted at Sam, and Jolie bit back a sob, reaching out to try to touch Sam’s arm.

  Sam swallowed. He stood there, breathing hard with his hands balled into fists. A vein on the side of his forehead was now so prominent Jolie almost saw it pulsing.

  “She won’t talk. I’ll take care of it,” he said in a low voice.

  Jolie looked into his eyes in panic, as Glock pushed her toward Sam.

  “If she does, it’s on you, so you better make sure she gets it,” said Glock.

  Jolie wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck, too scared to breathe, too scared to think, focused only on the solace she hoped to find in Sam’s arms. He wouldn’t hurt her, would he?

  His arms were hot and tight around her, and she could hear his rapid pulse so close to her ear. He was afraid, too, even if it didn’t show.

  “She won’t. She’s a smart girl.” Sam exhaled. “And if she does, you have every right to nail me to the wall.”

  Glock stayed quiet for a moment. “Your responsibility, Samson,” he said, and Jolie heard his and Monster’s steps moving away.

  She held Sam tight, shivering and trying to find ground in the scent of his cologne mixed with motor oil.

  Sam took a raspy breath and pulled her away just enough that they could look into each other’s eyes. His face was still flushed, eyes sharp with fury as he shook his head. “Candy, why didn’t you just show yourself right away?”

  She was limping on her broken shoe but looked at Sam, completely unable to gather coherent thoughts. “I don’t know. My bag broke, and I was trying to pick stuff up, and I didn’t want to look like a klutz, and they were there talking …” Jolie held onto him as if he were the rope she could grab onto before falling into this abyss of desperation.

  He steadied her with the strong grip of his hands and looked her deep in the eyes. It was like looking into a stormy sea.

  “What did they say, Candy?”

  “About a knife, and sending a cop to jail, and someone’s fingerprints.” She didn’t even want to remember. “You won’t use nails on me, will you?” She gasped for air, trying to stay afloat and not faint.

  Sam shook his head and pulled on her braid, bringing it to his nose and breathing in their scent with a frown. “But I’m gonna be fucked if you talk about this to anyone. That cop is not one of the ‘good guys’. You don’t want me to have my hands and legs fucked up, do you, Candy?”

  “No, Sam, I wouldn’t do that. I don’t want to know what it was about. It’s none of my business. I just wanted my car fixed.” Jolie barely blinked as she looked into his eyes with adrenaline flooding her body. She’d say anything to avoid pain right now, but in afterthought, he was right. She wouldn’t want to see Sam hurt. Not because of her. Not at all.

  Sam’s lips crashed against hers, opening them up with teeth and tongue. A whirlwind of emotion went all the way through her body, taking hold of her throat and holding her up for the kiss. Sam’s hands were on her ass, squeezing it through the dress with a bruising force. This was exactly what she needed to feel safe.

  Jolie wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, and she no longer had doubts about giving herself whole. Her petty anxieties now seemed as irrelevant as chipped nail polish when compared of how protective he was of her. Sam took a big gamble. He saved her like a tattooed knight. He wasn’t a coward like Jake, who left without a word when trouble knocked at their door. She opened up her lips, inviting him in without hesitation. Not just any man, but Sam. Her Sam. Her brave Sam.

  He nipped at her lip, and then her feet were off the ground. She stopped breathing, shocked when he pulled her up by the ass. He swayed forward but managed not to lose his balance. She instinctively tightened her thighs around his hips as he carried her off without breaking the kiss.

  Jolie hung onto him like ripe fruit that didn’t want to let go yet. She’d go anywhere he carried her. With her face flushed and body still stiff from the terror she’d survived, she inhaled his kisses with her whole body. His tongue was hot, teasing, and possessive between her lips. Sam explored her mouth in greedy licks, from her palate to her teeth, even reaching under her lip to slide the tip of his tongue over her gums. She let out a tiny mewling sound as he did that, letting him take charge of whatever he’d like.

 
Her back dug into a metal doorframe, and they were out of the sun. With a metallic thud that followed, they were alone in a room smelling of oil and gas. Sam stumbled further, and even as gravity pulled Jolie to the floor, she trusted him to keep her from getting hurt.

  He pushed her against a flat, cold surface she vaguely recognized when she lay back and her head hit the windshield of a car. Sam had her on the hood, and with the way he kept grinding against her, there was only one way this was going.

  Jolie should be a good girl and use condoms, but deep down she knew she was very bad. She let out a moan when a button of his overalls rubbed against her pussy. “You’ll keep me safe, Sam, won’t you?” she whispered breathlessly, only now realizing she’d lost her shoes. Her hands explored his nape and the soft short fuzz of his mohawk.

  He gave a fierce nod and kissed her again as his warm hands slid underneath her skirt, pushing it up all the way to her waist. The panties went off in a movement so aggressive she feared they’d end up torn. They’d sexted about this before, but in the dim light of the garage, everything felt completely new. Jolie wanted Sam so bad it had her clit throbbing. And not just like when his fingers touched her so that she found it too pleasant to say ‘no’. She wanted him to see her, not just jump his bones because she got too horny to care about being the ‘good girl’. She wanted Sam.

  She swallowed and unbuttoned the top of her dress, trying to be quick about it. The bulge she felt in his coarse coveralls only made her speed up.

  Sam gasped and pulled the top of her dress lower, exposing her bra. His eyes couldn’t have gotten darker, and he pulled her up, brushing his lips and nose all over the edges of the lace.

  “I want you, Sam,” she whispered and pulled down the white lace to expose her breasts for his lips and the touch of his stubble. It was as if the closeness of death unblocked the truth inside of her. She needed to take the risk, needed to admit to her feelings. “I’ll be your Candy, just be with me.” Jolie’s fingers explored Sam’s short hair. She didn’t even care if someone saw them.