Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  I tug on Jax’s arm, marking my territory.

  “I think,” I mutter, wheeling Jax away, “that it’s about time you started talking, Mr. Kane. I have some questions for you.”

  We stop by a bank of elevators, and Jax hits the call button with his palm. “Well don’t let me stop you,” he says with a hint of humor in his voice.

  “Don’t you ever think you could,” I reply, nudging him in the ribs. “First things first; if it isn’t too much for you my dear, I’d like to know what the hell we’re doing here. We’re not exactly lying low… We might as well paint a come and get me sign on our backs, or take a full page spread out in the New York Times!”

  Jax waits until the elevator empties itself, and we step in alone. The doors close with a ping. “First things first, Mrs. Kane,” he grins, parroting me in the most irritating fashion, “We’re here because I want the Templars to know where we are. There’s no point in hiding. They’ll find us sooner or later: and running gets really tiring, really fast.”

  I can’t disagree with that. The last six months has left me run down, on edge, and exhausted.

  “Besides,” Jack continues, “look around.” He points up at a bulbous black camera above us. “Casinos are the safest places in America. There are more cameras per square foot here than anywhere else in the country. The Templars won’t try anything here: too much evidence; too many witnesses. They’ll wait until we leave.”

  “You might be right,” I object, “but you can’t know that.”

  Jax puts two fingers up in the air to cut me off. “And,” he grins and up pops another finger, “there’s reason number three. I’ve got a buddy working security here, in the Bellagio. He’s got their security team looking out for us.”

  Jax looks up at the unblinking red light that decorates the camera and winks at whoever’s watching. I picture a pale faced man with sallow skin, hunched over a black and white display. My stomach growls its disapproval. As confident as my newfound husband appears to be, is exactly how much I’m not so sure about this situation.

  “You’re not telling me something, Jax,” I say as the elevator doors slide open. “You’ve got a plan, don’t you?”

  Jax strides out into the corridor, and I follow along behind. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and his silence only builds my intrigue. This high up in the Bellagio, the floors are richly carpeted. My parents were well-off – for a while, anyway – but even back then I never stayed in a place this nice.

  “You got me,” he finally replies, waving his key over the door lock. It clicks open, and he pushes it – revealing a luxurious suite behind. Jax jerks his head inside. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  I follow him inside. If there’s one thing about Jax where I can find no fault, it’s his taste. The Bellagio is a whole lot nicer than the shack we, uh, re-united in. Again and again. The carpet is rich and soft; the couches warm and inviting. My footsteps barely make a sound. There’s a living room – complete with a two stool bar – a bedroom, and who knows what else.

  “Can I get you a drink?” Jax asks. Clapping his hands together, he makes a beeline straight for the bar.

  “It’s barely 10 in the morning,” I reply. “Don’t you think it’s a little early?”

  “Well technically,” Jax grins back, “I haven’t been to bed,so I’m cutting myself some slack.”

  I sit down on the stool, and wave my hand at Jax. I can’t resist the irrepressible look on his face. “Well okay, then. What have you got for me, barkeep?”

  Jax leans down and grabs two bottles of beer from a hidden fridge. They hiss as he releases the caps, and hands one over.

  “Have you still got that bullet I gave you?” He asks, knocking his head back and taking a long, well-earned drink.

  I frown. “Why?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  I reach into my pocket for the hard piece of metal that is digging into my flesh – comfortingly – and hand it over. Jax grabs it, and sets it on the bar between us. He glances down and picks up three coffee cups. “Have you ever been to Times Square?” He asks, not looking at me.

  My forehead wrinkles a little more. “No.”

  “I wouldn’t bother,” Jax grins, “it’s full of tourists and pickpockets. It’s not my kind of place. I prefer the countryside – you know? Wide open spaces: trees; no one trying to kill me; that sort of thing.”

  I don’t reply.

  Jax sets the three cups out in a line, placing the one in the middle over the gold-tone bullet. “You ever play this game?”

  “I’ve seen it,” I reply. I keep my eyes focused on that middle cup. I’m not letting Jax fool me. No way, no how.

  Jax starts moving the cups around in a figure-eight pattern. The porcelain makes a satisfying ringing sound as it slides on the marble top of the bar. My eyeballs flicker as they follow. Jax stops dead.

  “Where’s the bullet?” He asks.

  I chew my lip. I think it’s still the middle one, but I can’t be sure. Jax took the cups on a merry little dance, and he’s fooled me good. I tap it anyway. “That one.”

  Jax smiles triumphantly. He slides his hand forward and lifts the cup up into the air.

  Underneath it, the bar is empty.

  “Damn,” I mutter. I lean forward and pick up the left cup, then the right: both empty.

  “How did you do that?” I ask.

  “Sleight of hand,” Jax says. He holds out his palm and opens it – revealing a shining bronze bullet. “Want me to show you again?”

  I lean over and grab the bullet, which is quickly becoming my keepsake. “No I do not,” I say, “want you to show off anymore … So what was that all about?”

  Jax takes a sip of his beer. He walks around the bar and comes to sit down next to me. “It’s like I said: sleight-of-hand. That’s how we’re going to win this thing. We’re the pretty girl who walks into a bar and gets everyone’s attention while her brother pickpockets the slobbering mob…”

  “So that’s why we’re here,” I say, thinking out loud. “We’re our own diversion.”

  Jax nods. “You got it, babe.”

  “So what you’re really saying …” I grin, squashing down on the nervous sea of acid doing backflips in my stomach, “is that we actually did paint a damn bull’s-eye on our backs!”

  “You got it, baby,” Jax laughs. “You got it.”

  “Then,” I whisper, my eyes tracing Jax’s jawline. “I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got a big bad Navy SEAL by my side.”

  I still can’t believe that Jax is back in my life. Even right now, right here, with only a foot separating us as we sit at the bar; close enough that I feel his heat warming my cheeks – it’s hard to fathom. It feels like all my Christmases have come at once; especially because, only a day before, I thought I was going to die. All of this – everything – every breath of air, every second I have with Jax, lets me know I’ve won my own personal lottery.

  So, I’m going to make the most of every damn second.

  I stroke Jax’s thigh. “We’re going to have to fight, aren’t we?” I ask.

  The muscles beneath Jax’s cheeks dance and flicker in the dim mood lighting that permeates the suite. His jaw tightens, and he grimaces. “I’m going to fight,” he growls. “Wherever, whoever, however it takes – as long as it keeps you safe.”

  I shake my head. “No. You’re not fighting this battle for me: no way, no how. I’ve only just got you back; I’m sure as hell not losing you again.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Jax replies. His words hurt me. He’s acting like he’s an island: closed off; taking all of the world’s problems on his own shoulders.

  “I’m going to turn you into a goddamn peninsula,” I mutter.

  I can tell that that was the last thing Jax expected me to say. His face wrinkles.

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, I said it,” I fire back, mustering a tight grin. “I’m not having you die saving my life, Jackson Kane. Whatever happens, I’m going
to be there: right there; by your side; because standing up to them is worth dying for. You’re worth dying for.” My throat constricts and chokes up. “We’re worth dying for.”

  I lean forward on impulse and plant a kiss on Jax’s lips, pressing down so hard it’s like I’ve found the last man on earth. I might as well have. Jax is the only man I’ve thought about for the last four years. During all that time, I knew he was alive – out there somewhere – even if he wasn’t by my side. But to lose him again – for real this time – I know in my heart that I won’t be able to bear it.

  Jax pulls away. The faintest hint of a smile graces his expression, but he’s holding his amusement back. “What,” he mutters, raising an eyebrow. “You think I’m going to do it on my own? Hell no. Like I said, baby – it’s all about sleight-of-hand. You’re going to go downstairs and find the damn sexiest, little black dress you can: a dress that will have every man who sees you getting hard.” He grimaces, jealousy spiking his face.

  “Then,” I whisper, staring into Jax’s gray eyes, “you’ll take them out.”

  Jax nods, and pulls me in for another deep, thigh clenching, knee weakening kiss. His hand snakes around the back of my head, and he buries his fingers in my hair. I arch my back at the delight of his fingernails grazing my scalp.

  “Damn right,” Jax growls. “You learn fast.”

  I stand up.

  “I have a good teacher,” I say, biting my lip. I take his hand and pull him upright, and tug him after me. I feel the heat of Jax’s gaze burning on my ass. I wiggle it for him.

  My body aches from being drugged and stuffed in the back of the trailer, then sleeping in a loud, old truck on the highway. I’m tired, I need a shower, and I’m probably on the wrong side of emotionally stable after whatever drug Ryan Carr’s bounty hunter pumped into me.

  But none of that matters. I need this – Jax – right now. I’m going to take what I want from him. And I’m pretty sure he’ll be happy to give it.

  I lead Jax to the bedroom. Just before the bed I stop and turn and press my body against his. I let my hands wander down and rest them on the top of his leather belt. I don’t let Jax wonder what I want from him…

  He pushes me, and I fall through the air onto the bed. It’s a whole hell of a lot softer than the one we found in the shack. A breath of air escapes my lips.

  Then Jax is on me. His mouth is on my lips, his hands on my hips. He kisses me like he hasn’t had a woman for days, not hours. I moan my approval. Then my top is on the floor, then his fingers are at my fly, my jeans are loose, then off completely.

  “No fair,” I moan as his lips graze my neck. I tug at his T-shirt. “You, too.”

  Jax doesn’t need asking twice. He lets me pull his T-shirt off and throw it somewhere far away, all the while grinding his palm against my pussy. My head tilts back as I let myself bask in the pleasure. I hear a soft metal clink as Jax loosens his belt and then a whoosh as his jeans meet mine on the floor. He was still going commando. He presses me down and bites my lip and I wince with a delicious tingle of pain.

  Jax pulls my panties down and off roughly and drags two fingers across my soaking pussy. I arch my back and his hands dance across my breasts, paying attention to my searing nipples. As he touches them, little explosions of fire ripple out and around, like a tidal wave speeding through an ocean after an earthquake.

  “I want you: in me; now.” I pant. In my head, I’m thinking that I want this to last forever – all day, every day. I don’t want to fight, even though I know it’s the only way we can end this thing for good. I just want to stay in this suite, screw Jax, order room service, and do it all again.

  Jax pulls my legs apart and lowers himself on to me. The heat of his naked chest burns mine. I lift my head up and press it against his mouth and kiss him, and then he pushes his cock inside me. I let out a little moan and a little yelp as he fills me.

  Then, every other thought is gone. Then it’s just blackness and explosions of pleasure: the heat of Jax’s body; sweat; sex.

  Nothing else matters.

  Chapter 10

  Jax

  I check my watch. It’s 2 PM exactly. That means that even if my contact isn’t late, he’s about to be.

  I lean over and retrieve my Glock. It hasn’t been far from my hand for hours. After all these years, it’s as much a part of me as my fingers. I don’t think that the man I came here to meet will sell me out, but I’ve been in this business far too long to take risks.

  “You better not screw me on this one, buddy,” I mutter under my breath. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust my contact. But money has a way of changing people – of corrupting them. And the cartel has plenty of cash.

  An SUV pulls out of the never-ending stream of traffic down the strip. It’s a Jeep Cherokee – looks like a ’94, damn near an antique, but made of metal – nothing like what they make today. It’s jacked up a little for off-road clearance, and the original black finish has faded to matte dark gray. In short, it’s the kind of car that won’t draw a single look of interest. It’s the car of someone barely making it in this town.

  It’s boring.

  And that is exactly what its driver wants.

  The old, black, SUV pulls into the parking lot. At this time of day, and this far away from the exclusive casinos, the lot is mostly empty. It parks up by a cluster of old but still serviceable cars, probably owned by employees.

  On cue, I open my door and clamber out. I tuck the Glock into the waistband by the small of my back. If I need to use it, then it’s probably already too late; I’ve been sold out. I’m probably dead, and they are heading for Alex.

  I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. That’s why I’m here.

  The sun beats down on my shoulders as I walk over to the idling SUV. I pause, staring meaningfully through the back window directly at the rear view mirror. After a few seconds, the driver gets the message, and he turns the engine off. I nod my thanks.

  “You came,” I say as I open the passenger door and sit down. The freezing cold jet of air that kisses my face is a welcome change from the searing desert outside.

  “I said I would, didn’t I,” the driver says, staring dead ahead, his expression plain. And then his face breaks into a smile, and he turns, his arms out wide. “C’mere, buddy,” he says, enveloping me in a hug.

  “It’s been too long, Zach.” I say. My face aches with a smile of genuine happiness that stretches long-ignored muscles. “How you doing, man?”

  “You know how it is, buddy. A man’s gotta work to make a livin’. I’m doing landscaping, construction, that kind of thing. I’ve got a few trucks working under me. It ain’t Afghanistan – that’s for sure – but at least people aren’t shooting at me.”

  “That’s got to feel good,” I grin. “Wish I could say the same.”

  “You gone and got yourself mixed up in some shit again, Jackson?” Zach says, shaking his head. He runs his finger down a scar on the right side of his face. It’s a habit he’s had for years. He turns and shows me the cheek. “Looking good, huh?”

  “Must be all that sun,” I grin. “Because it sure ain’t the VA…”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Zach shrugs. He leans over and grabs my shoulder. “Listen, Jax. I don’t know what you’ve stumbled into, but if you need my help –.”

  “You stop right there, buddy,” I say, scowling. “Your pretty little wife would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you. Mary’s one lady I’m not crossing as long as I breathe.”

  Zach leans back. He’s wearing a pinched, pained expression on his face. I know exactly what he’s feeling, but I can’t let him get involved. I spoke the truth when I said I’d never forgive myself. This isn’t his fight, it’s mine. I’m going to finish it.

  “It jus’ don’t feel right,” he says, shaking his head. “Leaving a man behind, you know?”

  “You got the stuff I asked for?” I say in response. Zach nods. I can see he’s itching for a f
ight.

  “It’s in the back. But –.”

  “But nothing,” I growl. “You’ve done more than enough. And I meant what I said about Mary. There’s not a man alive who could convince me to get on her bad side.”

  “We had kids, did you hear?” Zach replies with a grimace. I can tell he finally understands that I’m not messing around. He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a couple of tiny studio shots.

  “Tim,” he says with a flash of pride, handing a picture over, “and Alex. We’re trying for a third. Mary wants a girl – you know – someone to dress up and shit. The boys are only two and four, but they are already taking after their dad.”

  Zach smiles. I study his face for perhaps just a touch longer than feels comfortable. God, he looks so damn happy. Not just happy – proud. He’s started a family already. He’s so far ahead of me it’s not even funny. But looking at him, I realize that he’s got exactly what I want. It’s like looking into a mirror that shows the future.

  I want a family: with Alex. Whatever stood in our way the first time, it doesn’t matter. Every time I look at her, I know we’re made for each other. I just hope she feels the same way.

  “You’ll get her,” I grunt. “I know you will.” I hand back the two photos, and reach into my pocket for the last of the cash. It’s everything I have left – a couple of thousand bucks, not much. “Here – take this. This should cover everything.”

  Zach pushes the money away, shaking his head. “No way, man; You saved my life twice, if I remember rightly. There’s no way I’m taking that from you.”

  I open the passenger door and the cauldron of heat attacks me once again. I lean over and tuck the money into Zach’s shirt pocket. “You are,” I say, stepping out of the vehicle. “And that’s final. You got me some dangerous toys, buddy. Put yourself into a lot of danger for me. It’s only fair.”

  Zach’s too polite to protest twice. Still, I wouldn’t bet against every last cent ending up in a church collection plate. He’s that kind of man.