Their Ex's Redrock Dawn (Texas Alpha Biker)

by Shirl Anders

“Lift that ass for me, sweetness,” he demanded, then he thrust forward with a harsh groan.

  Fuck, it was the hottest thing he’d ever done. Taking Carly over the leather seat of his bike and not doing it easy, but hard and rough, to her cries of pleasure.

  Later, Zeb knew he’d made Carly climax twice out in the dark night, but when he got her back to his motel room he was worried about her being sore after he’d been so rough with her sweet little pussy. As soon as he got her into the room, he began stripping her.

  “We’re showering,” he told her—while she looked like the fact he was pulling her clothes off so forcefully was turning her on. As he was pulling her thong down, his hard cock told him it liked stripping her too, but he wasn’t letting it back into her tender sweetness, which he knew had to be sore ... so he ignored it.

  “You’re so bossy, honey.” Carly pouted as he tugged off his tee shirt with one hand, while cupping her bare ass to push her toward the bathroom.

  “I just made you fucking come twice being bossy,” he growled, while shoving off his jeans. “Get the water warm and put your hair up if you don’t want it wet. I’m going to take care of my girl’s soft pussy after I was so rough with it.”

  Carly did a naked twirl, which jiggled her fine breasts as her eyes widened on him, and he swore he felt her turned-on factor rising to high. He’d hit a right button with her.

  “’kay,” she whispered, with a seductive little smile that turned him up on high and boarded his cock out between his thighs. Damn, he was going to have to live with that hard-on all night.

  Ohmygod, Carly thought.

  Zeb babied her pussy so seductively with soap and his fingers that she came with a whimper against his wet chest. Then he rinsed her off as gently. But when he was turning to get out of the shower, with his cock stiff and unbending as it moved across her thigh, Carly grabbed his wet shoulders, stopping him.

  “Ranger, let me soap you off,” she said, with as much purr as she could get into her voice.

  He’d told her all through washing her that he wasn’t putting his cock inside her for a least a day. She had to admit she was deliciously sore after the ride he’d given her over the leather seat of his bike, so she worried that he’d try to go to bed all hard and throbbing. His eyes slid to her with his dark lashes wet and spiked.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  She was certain he wasn’t going to let her, but then he grasped her hand and tugged it to the hard shaft of his thick and rigid cock.

  “Slowly,” he ordered, and the sexual command quivered through her, like they all did. So hot and sexy, she was captivated by it all.

  So she loved on Zeb with her hands deep on him, until his fists hit the wall above her head and he came hard. After they dried off, Zeb carried her to bed and she laughed, sounding like an excited girl being carried to bed. He was so strong to be able to do it. Then they spooned tight with him behind her.

  And she gave it up to him.

  TWELVE] She’s The One

  Zeb took a drink of watered-down beer, with his gaze moving over the half-filled bikers’ bar on the edge of town. He could put up with the bar’s idea of beer so he could keep under the radar of the locals. He knew keeping a low profile was why Vincent Whitehorse had told him to meet him there, after Zeb had called Vincent that morning.

  It’s what Zeb would have done ... picked the same place. Carly had explained that Vincent was a man of few words and he liked to work private investigation, bond running, and surveillance, because he liked it and he liked to teach the young woman from his rescue charity something useful to improve their lives. Zeb appreciated each piece of that information, so when he’d called Vincent, he’d kept it short. Must have been enough information, because Vincent had growled he’d meet Zeb at the bar.

  Zeb sat back on his barstool watching a group of three bikers, looking dusty and probably traveling through town, that were arguing over a bet. The bet was over which one could get the busty bartender to flash her tits. Only Zeb had seen the grayer-haired one slipping the lady a hundred-dollar bill when the other two weren’t looking. The bartender went through the first two trying to seduce her with no flashing, but old gray laid a smooth line on her and everyone in the bar got a look at fat bare tits for about five seconds.

  But they weren’t close to what he had, Zeb thought while fighting a chuckle. Those bare ones popped out just as a tall, muscular Indian prowled into the bar. He looked lean, and he looked like the kind of man that didn’t take shit off anyone. He also didn’t glance once at those bare babies, and Zeb liked him instantly for that.

  “Carly’s like my family,” Vincent growled at Zeb, as he stood next to Zeb but didn’t sit on a barstool. “No one fucks with her.”

  Zeb was impressed. There weren’t many men who could say that to him and he’d believe them, but he believed Vincent. Vincent Whitehorse was not a man to fuck around with.

  “I feel the same way, only I’m fucking closer to her than her family,” Zeb uttered. “I hear you might understand how it is that Carly and I got to know each other so fast, because you and your new wife had the same thing happen to you. It’s how you met her.”

  Vincent’s lean features did not show surprise, but his dark eyes narrowed, and he growled lowly, “No shit.” Then he swung onto the stool beside Zeb and whipped off his black cowboy hat to plant it on the bar. “Carly didn’t say, and I can’t say I’m surprised at anything that dick Shaw will do,” Vincent said.

  Zeb leaned on the bar, drilling Vincent with his gaze. “I’ll be clear,” he told Vincent. “I made Carly give up dealing with this thing to me, but she’s wondering what’s happening and not pushing it for now. The reason I asked her to let me handle it, without any questions, is because of things I’m seeing adding up in a very bad way ever since I met Carly, while we both watched our spouses lip-locked and figured out they were screwing us over. I knew mine was dicking me over since my bike crossed Kansas looking for her ass—Carly, I’m not so sure she even thought there was an affair, but she did know something wasn’t right and she was holding it close and not letting him all the way back in.”

  “Fuckers,” Vincent ground out. Then a beer slid in front of him and he nodded to the bartender, who backed off quickly, likely hearing Vincent’s curse.

  “Yeah, fuckers,” Zeb agreed, taking a slug of his beer.

  “So you two that tight?” Vincent asked.

  “I know you’ll ask her and I know what she will say,” Zeb said. “What she won’t know is what I am telling you now. She’s the one for me and I’m damn glad I can kick my unfaithful wife to the side and put Carly on the back of my bike.”

  Vincent sneered at him. “I been there, brother, and I’ll give you some time to see if you can back up those words and to see if Carly wants them backed up.”

  Zeb nodded. “I’d expect nothing less. While you’re doing that, let’s put our heads together over why in one day my babe had her car go out of control with no brakes, and then she was caught in a deserted arena with a live fucking bull.”

  The entire bar snapped into silence at the sound of Vincent’s snarled curse.

  Five minutes later they were outside the bar standing next to Vincent’s truck, which had a WTSF logo on it, while Vincent talked into his cell sharply, saying, “This is not even a fucking favor, O’Neil, it’s Carly and it needs done now.”

  Vincent had told Zeb that he had a friend in the system who would look into Shaw’s background and give them advice, as the circumstances were out there on the far side of what a novice or mere PI could handle. Zeb had figured Vincent was vague about this O’Neil’s actual job description for a reason.

  “Yeah right, man, I’ll calm down,” Vincent muttered, with his black eyes glittering dangerously, looking off in the distance. “We don’t have something quick, I’m taking him out, then we’ll fucking talk about it.”

  Zeb was glad Vincent was fierce about it, but Zeb knew they had to walk softly to snare their target, o
therwise they’d lose him in the legal system, if he was the bad guy. First they had to prove he was a bad guy, while keeping Carly covered. He’d already told Carly she was not to leave work without him. She’d looked like she wanted to ask why, but then had bitten her lip and kissed him hard instead.

  Giving it up to him.

  Like he needed.

  Man, he hadn’t known how much he needed it until he’d gotten it. But having his woman trust him and look to him to take care of shit was a damn good feeling, and something he’d realized he wanted in his life from now on.

  Zeb waited to see if Vincent would back down before he had to make him back down, but being a sniper had taught him not to jump quickly, unless immediately necessary.

  “Two hours at Hidden Canyon Pipestove, and I won’t fucking ask why you’re out so far. We’ll look at her car on the way. See you, brother.”

  Zeb relaxed his stance—it seemed they had a plan that didn’t involve taking Shaw out ... yet.

  Vincent snapped his cell case shut and drilled Zeb with his gaze. “My man’s undercover, but he’ll bring us what he can find and give us a direction.”

  Zeb nodded. “I don’t know much about the investigation business, but do you have a way to look into her financial records? This bank?” Zeb handed Vincent the bank statement he’d taken from Carly’s the day before. “And this insurance policy.” Zeb pulled back the bank statement to show the insurance envelope. “Like to know if that’s her signature, who is the beneficiary, and what date it was set up. I asked Carly about life insurance, without spooking her, and she doesn’t think she has any.”

  Zeb watched Vincent’s lips pull back as he cursed under his breath. “It pains me I’ve been missing this,” he uttered, as he took the letters from Zeb.

  Zeb rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, man, it’s unbelievable shit to think, so don’t beat yourself up over it.”

  Vincent growled but nodded, and he looked in the insurance envelope. “You’ve not been around her long enough, but I have, and this is not fucking Olive Oyl’s signature.”

  In Vincent’s truck as they drove to examine Carly’s car, before they went out to meet O’Neil, Vincent explained the nickname he’d used for Carly was an old joke between them. In this situation, Zeb was glad that Carly had people to watch her back, but he was taking over that position now. He just had to do it smart and not impulsive, like his blood was pounding for him to do—like go beat the hell out of Shaw because the bastard could be trying to kill his wife.

  ***

  Carly saw the large bouquet of flowers coming toward her, and her eyes widened. The young messenger guy didn’t look as happy as the gift of flowers suggested when he clunked the vase onto her desk.

  “Long way out here,” the delivery guy muttered, then he straightened. “Carly Oliver? Those are for you.”

  “Hey,” Carly called to the guy’s already retreating back. “You know we don’t accept flowers here; it’s too dangerous for the women we are sheltering.”

  The man didn’t turn back, but he shrugged. “Boss’s orders,” he semi-yelled, and then he pushed through the front doors of the office.

  Carly swiveled her rolling desk chair and frowned at the elaborate bouquet of flowers from roses to lilies; it was an expensive collection. Then she snatched the card, intending to call the floral shop and let them know how dangerous it was to do this, and to please not do it again. But her gaze caught on a name she knew well and now despised.

  Rick.

  Seeing his name set her off worse, because he knew not to send anything to her job. But it was just like Rick, not listening and not taking her job or the security it needed seriously. She also noticed the flower shop was from the next town over, but her phone rang before she could wonder why.

  Hoping it was Zeb, she grabbed it quickly without looking, and then she heard a voice she didn’t want to hear. “Carly, you get my flowers?” Rick asked.

  Carly squinted out into the office area—Cabe was in the back but the front was empty—as she considered how loud to get. “Rick, you can’t send flowers here—” she started to exclaim.

  Right over the top of her, Rick said, “You don’t remember, do you? Baby, it’s our anniversary, and I am trying.”

  Carly’s mouth sputtered as her heartbeat did a nervous little flip. Anniversary? For one second she’d really thought she’d forgotten something. “What anniversary?” she hissed lowly.

  “Baby, the first time we made love, don’t you remember?” Carly actually felt physically ill. “The candy and the flowers, baby, I am trying. Please come to dinner tonight, please.”

  Candy? But more importantly, Carly wanted to scream, “Why.” But instead she blurted, “Oh no, Rick, there’s a code red just coming through the door. I have to go!”

  Carly cut the call as she nervously swiveled her chair.

  “You okay, doll?”

  Carly was afraid Cabe could see the fear in her eyes when she turned to look up at him. “I’m ...” she started to lie, then she blurted, “so confused, Cabe. God.” She wrenched her fingers through her bangs, while Cabe came around her desk and squatted in front of her.

  “Honey, it’s all right. Talk to me,” Cabe said.

  Carly shook her head. “We see lots of crazy stuff here, don’t we?” she asked. “Especially married people’s off-the-wall madness, like that one case Vincent worked where that Southern lady with that thick accent from outside Dallas thought her husband was stalking her boyfriend on the side.”

  Cabe looked confused, just like Carly felt, and she hurried on, “Or that one where Vincent heard the wife trying to get some gang guys to kill her husband, but Vincent warned him.” Carly paused, while Cabe looked at her like she’d lost her head, then she blurted, “They should have just divorced.”

  “Yeah, babe,” Cabe muttered.

  Carly moved forward out of her chair, making Cabe move back and stand, then she whispered, “I need to do that.” She grabbed her purse and kept her eyes from Cabe. “I-I need the afternoon off.”

  Cabe’s hand was warm on her forearm. “Carly, I think I need to go with you,” he said.

  “No!” Carly exclaimed, horrified, glancing at him. “I’ll just go see that lawyer you went to,” she muttered.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on,” Cabe said. “But you’re a good woman, Carly, and he’s a fool.”

  “Thanks,” Carly half exclaimed.

  She brushed past Cabe and rounded her desk, then nearly walked into a deliveryman standing there. Carly made a surprised sound.

  “Carly Oliver? Delivery,” the guy said, thrusting a heart-shaped box of obvious chocolate candy with a big pink bow on it at her.

  Startled, Carly grabbed the candy, then she knew she had to leave before Cabe stalled her, wanting to know more about why she was so upset, so she followed the deliveryman out, telling Cabe over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in the morning. It’ll be okay.”

  But she didn’t go to a lawyer ... she needed to go to a lawyer but she didn’t go. Instead, she threw the candy on the front seat of one of WTSF’s trucks and she went to see Tess, while totally forgetting Zeb didn’t want her to leave WTSF without him.

  ***

  Zeb was extremely pissed, but trying like hell to fight it back so he could think clearly. He knew Vincent was furious too, because an hour ago they’d looked over Carly’s car and found a sliced brake line. Nice, even cut. There was no way it could be a break.

  “Why?” Vincent growled. “That leads to the answer.”

  Zeb looked out the window—they were in some remote back country. Zeb thought a lot of people wouldn’t know the trails Vincent was driving, kicking up dust.

  “Money,” Zeb uttered without a pause. There was no other reason. Vincent glanced at him. “Yeah, I know she’s got money,” Zeb said.

  Vincent nodded. “Thing you don’t know, her dad found ways to keep her money away from Shaw, even though she married him.”

  Zeb was surprised, but
he said, “But does Shaw know that? Carly says she’s never really let Shaw know she had money.”

  “Hell,” Vincent uttered. “That’s a hard thing to hide.”

  Zeb made a noncommittal sound. “Hear men get crazy for less than losing a house or car in a divorce.”

  “As ever, brother,” Vincent agreed.

  Then Zeb growled, “We’ve just got to catch the bastard.”

  Twenty minutes later, Zeb watched Finn O’Neil, who was some type of vague law enforcement officer. The dude looked rough, from a dusty goatee to dirt-crusted motorcycle boots. What he did not look like was any kind of law enforcement Zeb had ever seen. That meant the dude was serious and probably deep undercover.

  Zeb didn’t ask him any personal questions after Vincent introduced them.

  “Haven’t got a lot of time, hardass,” Finn said to Vincent. Zeb watched Finn looking up the cliff face of Indian ruins they stood beside. “And you better vouch for two white boys being in one of your tribe’s sacred places.”

  Vincent tilted his head, black hat forward, his voice a rough rumble. “Anywhere you’re out here, man, you need my word, you got it.”

  Finn’s teeth flashed in a sneer. “Not saying where or what I’m doing, but I get ready to be scalped I’m squalling your name, friend.”

  Vincent gave a hard chuckle, then Finn dropped what he was carrying on the hood of Vincent’s truck. Zeb knew sniper rifles intimately, and the one Finn laid on the hood was a .50 caliber Windrunner. It looked like the newest model, and Zeb’s fingers flexed with the desire to feel it in his hands. But he ignored that want.

  “Carly Oliver,” Vincent uttered. “Think her husband’s trying to kill her.”

  “Shit,” Finn said, wiping his goatee. “Heard you say it on the phone, hearing you say it here is still fucked.”

  “What’s your advice?” Vincent asked with a cutoff sound. “Nail that fucker.”

  Finn looked at Zeb. “Vincent says you got her back.”

  Zeb gave him a look of no shit. “I do.”

  Finn nodded. “Don’t know her well but I’ll do what I can; however, seeing as I’m caught doing whatever I’m doing, I think you boys need to bring in Justice, our local federal marshal, in on this so we can catch the asshole on audio and get something to put him away with.”