by Zoey Parker
“All right, all right, all right,” Rafe said, raising a hand in surrender. “I get the point. Just keep your voice down. We're headed to Milwaukee because as you heard, there's something there that Jester and his guys want. Badly. So badly, in fact, that I'm betting if we grab it before they can, it'll give us enough leverage to make this whole fucking thing go away.”
I thought about that. “So you know what it is, then? What Angelo was asking the other man about before he shot him?”
“Not exactly,” Rafe replied. “But I know that it's stashed in a club called The Flytrap, and that whatever it is, it's important enough that Jester had Maggot clipped over it. That seems like enough to go on for now.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, “but then what? We exchange this whatever-it-is for a promise that they'll leave us alone?”
“That's the plan,” Rafe said.
“That sounds like kind of a flimsy plan,” I pointed out. “What if this Jester guy gets the thing and then has us both killed anyway?”
“First of all, I don't hear you coming up with a better plan,” Rafe said. “And second, guys like Jester can't just go around breaking their word. On the street, their word is all they've got. If he gets a rep as a bullshitter and a mad dog, no one will ever do business with him again.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I answered. “Honor among thieves, is that it?”
“We're dealing with way worse than thieves, but yeah,” Rafe said. He sounded relieved that I was going along with it. The truth was that it all still seemed like a big gamble, but as he'd said, I couldn't think of what else to do to stay safe.
After a few more minutes, Rafe went to the bathroom and rinsed out the bleach. When he came out again, the sight of him with blonde hair was a bit jarring, but not nearly as awkward-looking as I'd thought it would. His shirt was off and he had a towel draped over his shoulders, exposing his rock-hard pecs and gorgeous abs again. The light thatch of brown hair on his chest looked strange with his blonde head, but it wasn't as though anyone would be seeing him bare-chested.
Anyone except me.
“You're staring 'cause it looks so fucking dumb, right?” Rafe asked. “See, I knew this was a bad idea.”
“No, no, it looks fine!” I assured him. “You look...um...great.”
“Well, I'm glad you think so,” he grumbled, pulling his sweatshirt back on. “Personally, I think I look like a fuckin’ moron.”
“That's only natural,” I said. “You've had brown hair your whole life, so of course it's going to take some getting used to for you. And besides, dark hair grows fast. You'll probably have enough roots showing in a couple of months that you'll be able to chop the blonde off.”
“I fucking hope so,” Rafe said. “Are you hungry? You must be. You haven't eaten since yesterday.”
I realized that for the first time since the shoot-out at the diner that morning, I felt like I could eat. Plus, the wine had gone to my head, and I figured it would be a bad idea to keep drinking while keeping my stomach empty. “Yeah, I am a bit hungry.”
“Cool,” Rafe said. “I saw a burger joint up the street. I'll go grab us some stuff and be right back. Same as the motel last night, though, okay? Don't let anyone in, no matter what they say. Keep your gun handy in case someone tries to get in anyway, but keep your head on straight too, understand? The last thing we need is for you to panic and shoot the cleaning lady or something.”
“Don't worry,” I replied primly. “I'm not in the mood to pull the trigger and shatter my eardrums again unless I have to, thank you very much.”
Rafe smiled and stepped out, shutting the door behind him.
I pinned up my dark brown hair and opened the second bleaching kit, painting it on carefully. I thought about the things Rafe had told me, and I had a vague suspicion that he might be almost as confused and uncertain as I was. He tried to seem tough and in control, and for the most part, that's exactly what he was. But he was also a man who was clearly making up his plan as he went along.
Maybe that should have scared me or made me want to run, but strangely, it actually made me trust him even more. Knowing that he was really just a guy who was doing his best from moment to moment to keep me safe was comforting. It made him seem more human and easier for me to relate to, instead of just a scary biker dragging me from one danger to another while purposefully keeping me in the dark.
I rinsed out the bleach and mixed up the dye, shampooing my hair with it thoroughly. As I did, I kept listening for someone at the door, but I didn't hear anything until Rafe's key card slid into the lock and he opened the door. I peeked out of the bathroom to make sure it was him, and saw that he was carrying two red-and-white-striped bags from the burger place.
I wrapped the towel around myself and stepped out, revealing my new copper-colored hair. “Ta-da! What do you think?”
Rafe's eyebrows shot up. “What the...? How come you got to dye your hair an actual color, and I had to stick with bleached blonde? That's not fair!”
“Well, we couldn't both be the same shade of blonde, could we?” I asked, giggling and pouring myself more wine. “That would be kind of attention-grabbing.”
Rafe grinned in spite of himself and laid out the burgers. “Yeah, but I could've been the redhead instead. We should have drawn straws or flipped a coin or something. Anyway, here's your burger. I got both fries and onion rings, since I didn't know which one you'd want. Although now that I see the choice you denied me, well...”
“I'll take the fries, smartass,” I said, grabbing them and eating a few. The grease and salt immediately perked up my appetite and made me realize how empty my stomach had felt. I dug into the burger hungrily.
“Hey, hey, slow down!” Rafe laughed. “Remember to chew it once or twice so you don't make yourself sick.”
“Lectured on table manners by a biker,” I groaned, finishing the burger with one more big bite. “Is there no end to my shame?”
“Well, at least you look goddamn foxy as a redhead,” Rafe pointed out.
“You really think so?” I asked.
“Uh-huh,” Rafe nodded. The way he was looking at me was making my insides tingle, and I could feel myself getting wet.
I suddenly realized I was still only wearing the towel and I blushed. “Hang on, let me get some clothes on,” I murmured, turning to head back to the bathroom. But I must have been a bit drunker on wine than I realized, because I spun around too fast and got light-headed, losing my balance. Before I could fall, I felt Rafe's arms around my waist, steadying me.
I felt the strength and power in his arms as they wrapped around me and before I knew what I was doing, I turned around to face him and pressed my lips against his. We stood for a long moment, our mouths parted, our tongues exploring each other's mouths. I could still smell the bleach from his hair, mingling with the manly musk of his body.
Rafe pulled away after a minute. I could tell he wanted to keep going, but something was stopping him. “You've had a lot to drink,” he said. “You should probably try to get some sleep. I'll take the floor.”
“Okay,” I said. I climbed into bed and got under the covers, then took off the towel and let it drop to the floor in a heap. Rafe switched off the light, then kicked off his boots and gathered up the heavy blanket from the bed and one of the pillows, arranging them on the floor. I watched his large silhouette sink to the floor next to me.
I stared up at the ceiling, and realized that despite the wine, I had never felt more awake in my life. My whole body felt hot and tense and jittery. All I could think about was how it felt to be pressed up against Rafe, savoring his scent and tasting his breath on my lips.
In that moment I wanted him, needed him, more than I'd ever needed anyone. I didn't know if it was the wine, and I didn't care. I had to feel Rafe's damp hair between my fingers and stare into his eyes. Without that, I doubted I would ever be able to sleep again.
Slowly, I pulled back the sheets and slipped out of bed, lowering my naked body t
o the floor next to him. I put my hands on his body, caressing it as I kissed his neck.
“What are you doing?” he whispered. It sounded like he was holding back a moan of pleasure.
“I never thanked you for saving my life,” I said, biting his earlobe gently.
“Sure you did,” he answered. His hands were still at his sides, but I could feel how tense his body was. I could sense the desire there, barely restrained.
“Not properly,” I breathed, my hand sliding down over his abs until it reached his pants. I undid the top button and slid the zipper down, feeling his cock strain against the fabric. I slipped my hand inside and wrapped it around his warm, quivering shaft, squeezing it firmly.
Rafe couldn't hold back any longer. As I stroked him slowly from base to tip, his arms enveloped me and we kissed again. His hand slid over my breast, his thumb rubbing my nipple roughly. I cried out with delight and kept kneading him, feeling him get harder and harder in my palm.
He did let out a moan then—from the back of his throat, ragged and wild. “Oh God, that's it,” he said. “Fuck, just like that. Don't stop.”
His hand moved down urgently, finding the slick lips of my pussy and sliding two fingers inside of me. Our bodies moved together in rhythm as we touched each other, letting out short gasps of pleasure. His cock throbbed in my grasp as his hand moved between my legs, his fingertips pushing against my G-spot insistently.
“Do you like that?” he whispered in my ear.
I nodded, moaning with pleasure.
“Then say it,” he said.
I opened my mouth, my breath coming in sharp gasps.
“Say it or I'll stop,” he hissed.
“Ohhh, God, yes,” I purred. “I love it so much. Please, don't stop.”
His hand slowed, his fingers pausing at my lips, tantalizing me. “Beg me,” he commanded.
No one had ever made me beg before. Still, I didn't even hesitate. “Please,” I moaned, lifting my pelvis toward him desperately. “Please, please, Rafe, don't stop. I need more. Please.”
He made a gruff, satisfied sound and began thrusting his fingers inside me again, harder, deeper.
My heart felt like it was bouncing around in my ribcage like a rubber ball. All of my fear and suspicion had melted away, replaced with a golden glow of lust that filled me right down to the tips of my toes.
I felt his back arch and his warm fluid jetting over my fingers a half-second before my own body was rocked with a sublime explosion, my orgasm causing every inch of me to shudder with passion. The blanket under my body was damp with sweat and my own moisture.
I don't remember how long we held each other on the floor after that, or how I got back into bed.
Chapter 23
Jewel
The infinite darkness of the gun's massive barrel filled my whole world again. The muffled voice was teasing me just behind it.
“Where is it?”
I instinctively knew that my own gun was oceans away, whole continents away, and that even if I could somehow reach across that distance to wrap my hand around it, it would be swallowed up by the maw of the cannon pointed at me.
“Where is it, Jewel?”
I opened my lips as wide as I could to scream for Rafe and in that moment, every corner of my mouth was filled with oily black metal. I saw Jester's leering mask and heard his breath rasping behind the painted red porcelain smile. I suddenly knew the last breath I'd ever inhale would smell like urine and taste like charcoal.
“Where is it?” the voice droned, and before I could even think of an answer, a finger squeezed the trigger and my mouth was filled with fiery sulfur, and in the flash of gunfire I saw a gleam sparkle from the golden hand holding the gun...
No.
Not a golden hand.
And not a golden gun in the hand.
A gold ring on the hand. On the finger next to the trigger finger. The right middle finger.
I woke up from the nightmare and sat up in bed, my mind racing. On the floor next to the bed, Rafe sat up too. “You all right?” he mumbled sleepily. “Bad dream?”
It took a moment for his words to travel from my ears to my brain. I was staring into the dark corner of the motel room, rummaging through my memories. Had it just been a dream? Had I made up the gold ring?
No. Definitely not. I'd been panicked when I saw the shooting in the alley and my brain had quickly gathered a lot of detailed input and stuffed it into its pocket, to be sorted through later. But now that I'd had a couple of days to subconsciously digest the data overload, I'd managed to remember something.
“Jewel?” Rafe said. He had gotten up and he was shaking my shoulder gently. His voice sounded worried. “You're not gonna freak out on me again, are you?”
“No, nothing like that,” I answered. “I'm okay. But I remembered something. It's probably nothing that can help you, but...”
Rafe sat on the bed in front of me, leaning in eagerly. “No, hey, whatever it is, let's hear it.”
I had a flash of memory from our drunken night of pawing each other, and I knew that I should feel strange about that, or get a flush of pleasure from how close he was to my naked body now. But my mind was too busy squeezing itself for answers.
“The killer in the alley,” I began. “Angelo. He didn't have a gold gun. That's not what the muzzle flash was reflecting. It was a ring. A gold ring. On his middle finger.”
Rafe frowned. “Huh. How sure are you?”
“Positive,” I said, pulling the covers up around me and shivering. The room wasn't that cold, but letting myself remember the killing in so much detail was making me feel chilly and exposed. “Is that something you can use?”
“I don't know,” Rafe answered. “If nothing else, it explains the whole 'gold gun' thing, since that didn't make a lot of sense. I don't remember Angelo wearing a gold ring, but I guess he could have gotten one at some point over the past seven years, while I was...away. Still, though...” He trailed off, thinking.
“So now what?” I asked.
“Remember when I said I've got other Reapers making moves for me on this?” Rafe replied, getting up. “I've got a couple of calls to make, to see if any of this makes sense. Stay put. I'll come back with some breakfast. You drink coffee, right?”
As he talked, Rafe gathered his wallet, Swiss Army knife, burner phone, and handgun from the top of the dresser next to the door. The way he was grimly putting his things in his pockets and tucking the pistol into the back of his pants—it looked like he was preparing to go to war.
“Uh, yeah,” I answered, rubbing my temples. I remembered how many cups of cheap wine I'd had last night and realized I had never been this morbidly hung over before. The sunlight was like spikes being shoved into my eyes, and my limbs felt boneless. Coffee sounded perfect. “Lots of milk, lots of sugar.”
“Cool,” he said. “I'll be right back.”
Rafe put his hand on the door handle, then stopped and turned back to look at me. His expression was hard to read.
“Listen, about last night...” he started.
“We don't have to figure that out right now,” I said. “We were both pretty drunk, and it's been a very weird couple of days, at least for me. Just go make your calls so we know what our next move is, and we can go from there, okay?”
Rafe thought about it for a moment. “As long as you're not feeling, y'know...”
I forced a smile. “I'm fine. Go.”
Rafe returned my smile and nodded. “Okay, then,” he said, stepping out the door and making sure it shut behind him.
I got up and put my clothes on, thinking. What had he been about to ask before I cut him off? “As long as you're not feeling like you're getting serious about me because of last night?” “As long as you're not feeling like last night was a huge mistake?”
What if both were true?
Chapter 24
Rafe
As I walked down the steps from our second-floor motel room and dialed the number for the Devil
's Nest, I thought about what I'd been about to say to Jewel.
The truth was, I had no fucking idea. Of course last night had been sexy as hell, but it could also complicate things, which was the last thing either of us needed while we were trying to make it through this mess with Jester in one piece.