Love in Indiana (American Boyfriend Book 4)

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Love in Indiana (American Boyfriend Book 4) Page 3

by Chance Carter


  “Fuck you,” I said.

  I was being unfair. I was blaming him for all that was wrong in my life. Through his shirt I could see the tattoos inked into his skin. They were intricate and so sexy on his perfect chest. I prayed he couldn’t tell how attracted to him I was.

  “Look, I know Wolf. I know Los Lobos. I know how they treat their women.”

  “You don’t know shit about me.”

  “Everything doesn’t have to be the way Wolf says it is. Not everyone’s afraid of him and his cocksucker friends.”

  “They’re killers.”

  “They’re not the only killers.”

  “Oh, that’s supposed to make me feel better? Leave one criminal to get in bed with another?”

  “Now you’re talking,” he said.

  He made me so angry. This was my life, and he was treating me like some random pickup in a bar. I suppose to him I was.

  “And what then?” I said. “After you’re done with me? After you’ve had your way with me and I’ve given you everything you want? What the fuck then?”

  “Then we get married. Make babies. White picket fence.”

  I slapped him again, harder than the first time. It was so hard my hand stung. I took pleasure from the fact his cheek reddened.

  He shook his head. I’d angered him.

  I was wearing a cheap necklace, a heart pendant on a silver chain, and he grabbed it in his fist and yanked it. The chain snapped and he put it in his pocket. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? That he’d stolen my heart? He hadn’t stolen shit.

  “You’re cruel,” I said.

  “Maybe I am, but I meant every word I said to you.”

  “Give me my chain back.”

  “I will, some day far in the future, when you don’t even remember I have it.”

  I was going to cry, and I didn’t want him to see. I didn’t even know why. This guy was a primo asshole. He was toying with my emotions, pushing my buttons. He should have known better. He should have known I was trapped. You don’t walk up to a slave and ask them to go for a walk. It’s not fair.

  I stormed out of the bar. As soon as the door slammed, I burst into tears. Fuck him. How dare he play with me like that. Talk is cheap. Where I come from, you either give a girl what she needs, or you shut the fuck up.

  You don’t get to talk the talk and not do anything about it.

  He could keep the shitty chain. Twenty bucks would get me a new one.

  In the coming weeks, I forced myself to push him from my mind. And yet, nothing was the same after that.

  Days turned to weeks and then months, and Wolf treated me worse and worse.

  I didn’t even know the name of the jackass from the bar, but I couldn’t forget him. I couldn’t forget that there was someone out there with the balls to say, ‘Fuck Wolf Staten.’

  And if he could say it, why the hell couldn’t I?

  Chapter 2

  Jackson

  The day of my father’s funeral.

  I always knew it would be a violent death. What I hadn’t counted on was it having such an impact on me. It shook me up, brought me face to face with my own mortality. I was an only son, the last of the line, everything would end with me. That didn’t sit right.

  I was out on the highway, headed to the Los Lobos hangout. I hated meeting those guys. They were nasty, and they had no clue how to live—no clue how to be men. I’d seen the way they locked up their women, terrified them, turned them into slaves. There was no honor in that.

  Los Lobos was a syndicate of twelve grade-A assholes. They were killers, drug-runners, human-traffickers. All twelve deserved to be put in the ground. The fact that I was doing business with them made me sick to my stomach.

  I was buying information from them for the Brotherhood. That was my group. My family. Four grade-A assholes, but not like Los Lobos. We were different. We stole money, but we didn’t hurt people. That’s a subtle distinction to most people, but to us it was real.

  People think all criminals are the same. They’re not. Call me biased, but I loved the other members of the Brotherhood as if they were my real brothers. They were real men. Men you could trust, men who’d do what needed to be done when the chips were down.

  At sundown it started to rain. I was on a lonely stretch between Reno and Carson City and the glow of a vacancy light called to me like a beacon.

  I walked into the motel bar with one thing on my mind—getting fucked up. It’s not every day they bury your daddy.

  Certain nights in your life are different from the others. The force of destiny weighs on you. Everything that happened before seems to have led to that fateful moment. Everything after is a consequence.

  This was one of those nights. I could feel it in my bones. I can’t say I was particularly close to my father, but his dying, it took the ground out from under me. It made me realize I hadn’t yet achieved the most important thing in life. I was risking everything on a daily basis, but I hadn’t planted the seed of the next generation.

  I was soaked from the rain but didn’t care. I took a place at the bar and slapped my gloves and helmet on the seat next to me.

  “What can I get you, cowboy?” the bartender said.

  I looked around the room. It was a dingy place. Not too many customers.

  “You got sugar back there?” I said.

  He nodded.

  “I’ll have a bourbon with sugar. The way the old man used to drink it.”

  “I can make you an old fashioned,” he said.

  “No. Just the bourbon and sugar.”

  He put a shot glass in front of me. I downed it in a single motion and asked for another. As I downed the next, the door slammed behind me. I turned.

  In walked trouble.

  Chapter 3

  Jackson

  It was a girl, little more than a kid, soaked to the skin, makeup running down her face in long, black streaks. She cut a tragic figure—a drowned kitten—desperation written all over her.

  There was something familiar about her, and then I remembered. A few months earlier, the Los Lobos bar, she was Wolf Staten’s girl. Instantly, I could see what was going on. She was on the run.

  She’d actually done it. She’d taken her life into her own hands. She was fleeing the most savage group of men I’d ever come across.

  And how did I react? I’ll tell you.

  My cock stiffened.

  I’m not ashamed to admit it. I wanted this girl badly since that first time I set eyes on her. It wasn’t any normal lust, it was a hunger. I had to have her. She’d invaded my fantasies and I couldn’t get her back out. It was months since our first meeting in that bar in Reno, and I craved her.

  I stared at her.

  Twenty-four hours.

  That’s how long I gave it until Wolf caught up. She’d be dead by sundown the next day if I didn’t help. There was no way in hell Los Lobos would let a woman like her escape them. They’d make it a matter of pride, and let me tell you something about the criminal underworld I inhabit—the bigger the asshole, the greater the pride.

  She needed help, and whoever got involved would pay a hefty price. Twelve members of Los Lobos, all killers, all mean as fuck.

  I looked at her more closely and fuck, if she didn’t take my breath away. Light brown hair, big blue eyes, a mouth made for pleasure.

  She walked straight to the bar, and when she spoke, it was like the rest of the world went silent.

  “Bartender,” she said, “a beer.”

  The bartender’s eyes widened when he saw her. “Miss, are you all right?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You look—”

  “What?” she said, her eye steady.

  He shrugged and got her a beer.

  She picked up the bottle, brought it to her lips, and when she slammed it back on the bar it was empty. I was impressed. She drank like she meant it.

  Her soaking dress was completely see-through. My dick pulsed with desire. I wasn’t goi
ng to let her slip through my fingers this time. Even as she stood at the bar, shivering from the cold, I promised myself I’d fuck her. I’d dominate her. I’d become her master.

  She looked up and caught my eye. I nodded to her and told the bartender to give her another drink.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “You seem like you could use it.”

  She looked back at me, a challenge in her eye, but she took a swig from the bottle all the same. She was acting tough, I admired that, but it was clear she was in trouble. She was running out of time, and she knew it. When Wolf and his cocksucker friends tracked her down, bye-bye birdie.

  “I know you,” she said.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “You’re the asshole that tried to pick me up in Wolf’s bar.”

  I laughed. She hadn’t lost any of her spunk.

  “I didn’t try to pick you up,” I said. “If I remember correctly, you were so uptight only a fool would have tried that.”

  “Exactly,” she said, smirking.

  “Oh, so I’m a fool?”

  “Well, you tried something.”

  I nodded. I’d give her that. “Maybe I did,” I said. “Maybe I did.”

  A coy smile crossed her lips. “And now you’re back for more.”

  I laughed. “Right. I came here looking for you,” I said, sarcastically.

  “Well, you’re here.”

  “I was here first.”

  “No you weren’t. I watched you come in.”

  “You watched me?”

  “From the parking lot.”

  “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?” I said.

  She looked into my eyes and licked her tantalizing lips. Well, fuck me, but she was making a move. She was trying to play me. I had to admire that. She knew what it would take to escape Wolf, and she was willing to pay the price. There weren’t a lot of people willing to accept reality when it came to situations like the one she was in.

  Well, if she was going to play me, it wouldn’t come easy. Getting a man mixed up with Wolf Staten was no small feat.

  “Last time we met, I promised you we’d fuck like rabbits,” I said. “Now, here you are.”

  She looked hurt. She didn’t like when I spoke like that. She put her drink down and walked straight back to the door she’d entered through. Her hand was on the knob. If I didn’t say something fast, she’d walk right out.

  “Wait,” I said. “Don’t go. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “That’s twice you’ve said that to me, like I’m nothing more than a fifty-dollar slut looking to get fucked.”

  “You’re right. I was out of line. You had every right to slap me last time.”

  She looked relieved. I was cutting her some slack, which was what she needed. She came back to her seat.

  “Last time we met, you were a massive dick,” she said.

  “I know,” I said. “I can’t help it. I was born with it.”

  She shook her head. God, I could have died looking into those eyes. She was like an angel from heaven.

  “You just can’t stop yourself, can you?”

  I shook my head.

  She sighed. Then she said, mostly to herself, “size isn’t everything.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t believe it. “Was that a joke? Was that a joke from the girl who smacked the shit out of me last time we met?”

  She blushed. God, she looked pretty when she blushed..

  “You were asking for it.”

  “Yes, I was,” I said. “And you didn’t have any trouble dishing it out.”

  She shrugged. “I can give you more if you want.”

  “Please don’t. This face is all I’ve got going for me.”

  She looked me over, taking in my leathers, my wet hair.

  “I’m sure it’s not the only thing.”

  I laughed again. She was working it. Don’t think for a second I didn’t know exactly what was going on. The thing was, I wanted to get played by her.

  “What’s your name?” I said.

  “You first,” she said.

  I shook my head. The poor thing. She had no idea what she was getting into. She was like a lamb to the slaughter. She’d just escaped Wolf. Little did she realize, she was tangling herself with a monster ten times worse.

  Believe me when I tell you, whatever she was running from, whatever Wolf tried to force her to do, I would make it look like child’s play. The things I wanted to do to her, she’d cry out for mercy, she’d scream my name, and the more she begged, the harder I’d come.

  If it was Wolf’s bedroom antics she was fleeing, she was in for a rude awakening. I was a piston-fired, turbo-charged, orgasm machine. I out-fucked a herd of stallions. I out-pumped a locomotive. If she came to me hoping for mercy, she wouldn’t find any.

  She thought she was playing me? Please.

  She had something I wanted, and I was going to have it.

  I put my drink down.

  “My name’s Jackson,” I said. “Jackson Jones.”

  “Jackson Jones?”

  “Jackson-motherfucking-Jones,” I repeated, grinning.

  She smiled, and I swear there was a hint of seduction in those lips.

  “I’ve got a question for you, Jackson-motherfucking-Jones.”

  She could ask anything she liked. All I could think of was bending her over the counter and sliding my bare cock inside her, filling her with my hot semen.

  I wanted to fill her so full of my come it would drip down her legs for weeks. I wanted skin to skin, full contact, wet orgasm. I wanted to put a baby inside her. And in exchange for my help, she was going to let me.

  “What is it?” I said.

  She hesitated. She was scared. I could tell she’d been crying. I felt a pang of pity for her, but the desire flooding my veins was stronger.

  “Last time, you said you didn’t give a fuck about Wolf Staten.”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, my question is, did you mean that?”

  I let out a little laugh. My words were coming back to haunt me. I’d played it cocky and now she was calling me on it.

  “That depends,” I said.

  “On what?”

  “On what’s in it for me.”

  She looked deeply into my eyes as if trying to read my soul. She was on the verge of tears. She needed my help or she was dead. We both knew it. It had taken a lot for her to ask my help, she was a proud woman and I respected her for that.

  But I wouldn’t help her for free. That’s not the way it worked. I needed something from her, and I needed her to offer it.

  “Well then,” she said, “I guess I have one more question for you.”

  “Ask what you want. Believe me, I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  She looked into my eyes. “Are you a good man, Jackson Jones?”

  It wasn’t a game. It was a serious question and she meant it. Her life depended on it. I looked around the bar. The bartender was cleaning glasses. The other patrons had scarcely noticed her.

  “No one’s ever accused me of being a good man.”

  “But you know the answer,” she insisted. “Deep down, you know. If you were to die today, what would people say? Would they say you were good?”

  I looked into those deep, sapphire eyes. They were hypnotizing. She had a strange power over me, a force of attraction that was otherworldly. Maybe it was because death was on my mind, mortality. I don’t know, but something about her felt surreal, like she’d been sent from another world.

  As my eyes drank her in, a burning rage coursed through me like molten metal. I wanted to own her, to dominate her, to make her mine. My property.

  I wanted to plunge my cock so deep inside her she’d never even think of another man again. I wanted her to remember my name to her dying day. I wanted to ruin her for all others. It shocked me how violent my passion for her was. I’d never felt that for anyone.

  The simplicity of her question made me answer honestly.

  “Al
l I can tell you,” I said, “is that for all the bad I’ve done, I never meant any harm.”

  It wasn’t like me to say that. She’d disarmed me. I never gave anyone a glimpse of my true self. It was yet another surprise.

  She nodded, as if it was the answer she’d been seeking. She smiled, and it broke my heart to see that smile. She had the face of an angel, and I was going to ruin her.

  I wanted to know what had happened to her. The details. What had Wolf and Los Lobos done that she’d finally made a run for it? I’d kill them, all twelve of them, or die trying. She didn’t know it yet, but I’d already made up my mind.

  And then she said it, those four words I’d been waiting my entire life to hear. I didn’t even know it until I heard them.

  “Will you help me?”

  I’ll tell you right now, there are moments in my life I always knew would come. Even as a boy, I knew my destiny would lead to this, a fork in the road, where the decision I made would decide the man I was to be. Everything else in my life would fade in comparison to the importance of this question.

  If I said yes, it would mean the end of me. Instinctively, I checked the gun at my hip. Los Lobos, The Wolves. Every one of them would hunt me down until I was dead.

  It would only end in one way.

  And I didn’t care. I’d give her what she needed. I had to. But she’d give me what I needed too. A life for a life.

  “I’ll warn you right now,” I said, “any help from me won’t come free. Bad things will happen if I get involved. You’ll regret it. I swear to you.”

  “Will you hurt me?” she said.

  I wanted to tell her something different. I wanted to tell her I was the man she deserved, someone who would save her and ask nothing in return. I wanted to say I’d take her away to a life of happiness and safety. I wanted to tell her she’d have everything she deserved. But I couldn’t. I was a lot of things, but I was no liar.

  “I’ll destroy you,” I said. “I’ll take the one thing you’ve got to give, and I’ll drink it up like a desert drinks the rain. I’ll ravage you until you beg me to stop. And then, just when you think you can’t take anymore, I’ll ravage you again.”

  I’d given her fair warning. If she still wanted my help, it was on her now. I’d told her I’d take everything she had. But I hadn’t told her the one thing I wanted most. I hadn’t told her she’d give me a son.

 

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