by Lynn Burke
Devil seemed just as adamant about having my back, so...
“Was it Jack?” Sensei Jason asked. “I’ve seen him watching you.”
“Yeah. I don’t think he really meant me any harm, but still.”
“You okay to hang in here until Devil shows up?”
I nodded up at him. “Yeah. Thanks—and sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He patted my shoulder. “I’ll check outside to see if Jack’s still here and give him an earful, alright?”
Again, I nodded but also managed a whispered, “Thanks again,” before he left me alone.
Slumping down farther into the seat, I let out a heavy exhale and closed my eyes, tipping my head against the back of the chair.
How long would I carry around the bullshit? How long did PTSD last? I needed to talk to a damn therapist—Ryker would just have to get over it. Weren’t there patient privilege rights or some such shit to help protect me? No one would even know I went to a damn therapist unless I spilled the damn beans myself.
Ryker let me go to karate, so what was the damn difference?
By the time Devil showed up, I’d calmed to almost normal except the butterflies of knowing I would see him. He came barreling into the office and dropped to his knees in front of me before I lost my breath at the sight of him.
His brow furrowed deeply, rage in his eyes as he peered up at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I tried for a smile to ease him a bit, but it wobbled at best.
“The fucker was already gone when Jason got outside—Jack’s his name?”
I nodded.
“I’m gonna kill the fucker.”
A huff of laughter came out along with another onset of tears. “He didn’t do anything—just freaked me out for a minute is all.” I swiped at the tears rolling down my cheeks, and Devil stood, pulling me right up and out of the chair.
Those arms—that scent—dear lord. Even if I had a vibranium shield to protect me from Devil, it would fail. Terribly so.
I clung to his sweatshirt, my tears soaking his front as he held me with tenderness, his hot breath against the top of my head, the sweetness of licorice filling my nose with every snuffled inhale.
Even though the tears continued, my body took note of his warmth, his muscles, the damn hardness of his pec beneath my cheek. Panties well on their way to being a sopping mess, I continued to hold on tight. Soaking in the type of hug I’d never had from a man before.
Kind of addicting...
I finally stopped with the tears, taking stock of Devil plastered to my front—from head to toe—and all the good bits in between.
He was hard against my belly, but didn’t grind. Didn’t hump like a dog like some of the boys I’d dated—and even Mr. Griffey when he’d gotten too close.
So why didn’t Devil’s attention and erection freak me out? What about him turned me on, creating a deep ache inside me?
I sighed, wishing I could soak right through his skin and hide out inside him until the whole Ivan and Russian thing settled down so I could live a normal life again.
“Sorry I stink,” I mumbled against his sweatshirt, eyes still closed.
“I think you smell fucking fantastic.”
That actually got a light laugh out of me, and he pulled back enough to smooth my hair away from my face and study my eyes. “Better now?” he asked, his voice rough, rasped, and rumbling. Panty melting.
Light brown eyes—more amber than Jack’s shit color—enticed my head to la-la land, and I stared. Lost.
Zero skeeving, just pure lust.
My pulse sped back up to adrenaline pumping speed as his focus dropped to my lips. Did mine part? Did I dart out my tongue to wet the lower?
Maybe. Probably.
He groaned and pulled back enough that our bodies no longer touched, leaving my front cold. “Goddamnit, Jail Bait, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, glancing away rather than down to check out his bulge like I really wanted to. My arms found their way around my midsection as he exhaled an unsteady breath and ran a hand through his hair.
“Need a fucking haircut,” he grumbled when he caught me looking at his mussed hair.
“Don’t.”
One of his eyebrows cocked upward.
“Looks good long on top like that,” I explained with a shrug while heat flooded my face. Could I be any more obvious? Between barking at Ryker not to mess up Devil’s pretty face and my telling him I liked his hair … might as well add tight nipples in, too. At least my gi covered the girls.
“Want to go grab some coffee and brownies?”
My heart did a little flop at the boyish charm his smile flashed at me. “I gotta get to work. I’m surprised Pia hasn’t called yet. This is the first time they’ve let me drive here alone.”
As if I summoned her, the throw away cell Ryker had bought for me chimed in my bag. I dug it out to find a text.
Pia: Where are you?
Me: Still at dojo—will be back soon.
“Got a cell, huh?” Devil asked as I tucked my phone back into my bag and grabbed it off the floor alongside the chair I’d occupied.
“Yeah. Ryker gave it to me.”
“Going to give me your number?” That flashing smile did me in, again.
Ryker wouldn’t be happy, I had a feeling, but I found myself nodding.
Five minutes later, I pulled out of the dojo’s parking lot, Devil on my tail in his big blue truck—just in case. Guess he didn’t like me heading off on my own either. He told me he would stop by the shop later to put a tracking device on both my cell and car.
Feeling protected and resting in that fact, I drove to my temporary home and waved when Devil left once I’d reached the stoop.
I was confused beyond help, but kept that to myself when telling Pia what had happened.
When I got to the shop forty-five minutes later, I learned Pia had filled Ryker in. He called Stone and told him to put the fear of God in that Jack fucker, or he would. He also gave me shit for asking for Devil rather than him, and I broke down and told him the real reason.
Pia was like a mom to me, I explained, and I couldn’t have her raising that child alone.
That quieted him up quick as hell, and tight-lipped, he left me alone in the office.
Devil showed up as promised, subs and tonic in hand. He’d bought for the crew, though, so Ryker, Sully, and two prospects without nicknames crammed into the office with us since it had started to rain.
The men joked and bullshitted with one another while we ate, holding nothing back with a young woman in the room, making me feel as though I truly belonged there.
I might be sick, but I began to think that perhaps the shit of my life the previous few months might have been worth it. I’d found a family of sorts, the kind I’d always longed for.
Glancing over at Devil while thinking this, I found him staring at me and sipping his tonic. He flashed a smile around his straw, tightening everything inside me in the best way possible.
Okay, so maybe I longed for just a bit more.
Chapter Eight
Devil
A couple more days passed without me able to find any connection to the Russian mafia, the sex slave operation we assumed they ran, and Martínez. All remained quiet on the Vegas front as well, Ryker reported, but an underlying unease we all agreed upon lingered.
I needed to find the connections without stirring up dust that would leave footprints back to the Vipers, and I’d never met such a challenge. When needing breaks, I checked in on the shop’s camera, watching Dasia work for a few minutes. I’d hooked up her phone and car with tracking devices, and she told me she felt much safer.
Ryker began allowing her to drive to karate alone again, but he didn’t know I trailed at a distance anyhow. Jack didn’t so much as look in her direction whenever they showed up at the dojo at the same time. I wasn’t sure who told him to stay the fuck away from Dasia, but they had my apprecia
tion.
I finally talked Stone into letting me join, and that Monday I showed up for class—unannounced to Dasia—her face flushed the prettiest pink, I had a hard time talking my dick down.
She became my partner whenever Sensei Jason required us to find one. Gave me the opportunity to touch her here and there, nothing inappropriate lest I scare the girl.
That day in the office when she’d cried in my arms, she’d known how she affected me. There was no hiding my aching dick, but she hadn’t pulled away. At least she didn’t have touch issues like Ryker. Fuck knew how Pia helped get him out of that funk.
I didn’t push even though I wanted to. Sure, I crowded up in her wheels sometimes, making her shiver and pupils blow out wide, but I kept my hands and dick to myself.
One week before her eighteenth birthday, Ryker left the shop for a doctor’s appointment with Pia, leaving her alone in the office while Sully and the other two guys worked.
I texted her the second he left the compound.
Me: What are you up to, Jail Bait?
Sitting back in my chair, feet propped up on my desk, ankles crossed, I watched her snatch up her cell from her bag. She smiled, her fingers flying over the screen.
Jail Bait: Working. You?
Me: Thinking about you.
I sent the text and brushed my knuckles down the back of my semi beneath my jeans. While I was a sick fuck for watching her throughout the day without her knowing, at least I hadn’t taken to jacking off right there at my desk while doing it. Even I wasn’t that much of a perv.
Dasia nibbled on her lip but didn’t make a move to reply, so I continued with my own trail of thoughts.
Me: And what color panties you’re wearing. Or not wearing.
She bent over her phone.
Dasia: You would.
Me: Got that fucking right. I also think about sliding them down off your legs.
Couldn’t fucking help it—I loved to get her riled up, get that pulse thrumming in her neck when I got too close.
Dasia tipped her head back and appeared to laugh while mouthing, “Oh, my God.”
She didn’t look pissed, so I decided to test my luck.
Me: Touching you. Tasting you.
That got another lip nibble out of her while she stared at the phone.
Dasia: You’re really fresh.
Me: Tell me you wouldn’t love it. Tell me you don’t touch yourself thinking about that very thing.
I’d never pushed her that far, but I had to know. Fuck, I had to know.
She shifted on the chair before answering.
Jail Bait: You’d like for me to admit that wouldn’t you?
Me: Damn right.
Jail Bait: Well I don’t. “Just friends” don’t do that shit.
In the mood to argue, I let my fingers fly.
Me: Don’t have to stay platonic if you don’t want to. Just sayin’.
Jail Bait: I’m only 17.
Me: Not for long.
A week, actually. In just over a week Dasia would be a consenting adult in the eyes of the law—not that I truly gave a shit. Given the green light, I’d have been all over her plump ass and those tits.
She put her phone down, and I groaned, hating I couldn’t get what I wanted out of her. At least give a blue-balled guy something to hang his coat on other than his raging hard-on.
Dasia went into the tiny bathroom while I squeezed my dick to calm the fuck down. She took long enough I started to wonder if she was okay, but she came back out and didn’t even look at her damn phone.
Grumbling, I turned off my obsession and all but one monitor of her and picked up where I’d left off looking for that fucker Ivan.
Three long as fuck hours later, I found him. But his real name was Alexi Dvornikov—and he happened to be a good buddy of the asshole the Vipers had buried out in Vegas alongside Arturo.
A pain in the ass slip through the FBI’s database backdoor earned me that information, but at least there was no mention of the demise of the fucker Stone had taken out with his knives.
Alexi, the FBI hadn’t yet confirmed, ran the Russian mob’s sex slave trade. I fucking ran with what they had, searching other databases I snuck into when necessary. Emails. Phone records. Bank records and home security.
Things began to pop up, and I saved every tiny shred of evidence I thought might help build the FBI’s case to finally free Dasia from having to live in fear. Until I finished for the night, I’d missed dinner and crawled into bed hours after most.
At least my obsession to protect Dasia had proven a good thing. I had the beginnings of the necessary shit to take all the fuckers down.
Chapter Nine
Dasia
“So, what do you want to do for your birthday next weekend?”
I lifted my head from the plate of lasagna in front of me to meet Pia’s smile. “I honestly hadn’t thought about it.” Well, I had thought about the whole being legal thing and what that could possibly bring about between me and Devil, but I hadn’t considered the actual day.
“Want me to make you a cake?”
“Brownies would be nice,” I said with a grin.
“You and your brownies,” Ryker said, shaking his head without a lick of humor on his face. God knew he hated whenever Devil showed up at the office with a bag of them for me.
“You ought to try one,” I told him. “Chocolate can do wonders for one’s disposition.”
Pia snorted, and I chuckled as Ryker raised an eyebrow my way.
“Hey.” I shrugged. “Works for PMS, figured it wouldn’t hurt to maybe shove one in your face.”
His lips twitched, but he returned to his lasagna, forking up a bite.
Still laughing, I turned back toward Pia. “Brownies and black coffee for the man of the house.”
While Ryker still unsettled me with his intensity in protecting what belonged to him, I’d come to like his poppa bear attitude. He was badass, don’t get me wrong, but I’d learned he had a soft inside. Squishy and heart-eyed when it came to his old lady.
He’d even allowed me to contact my best friend Stacey with the promise I wouldn’t tell her where I was. We talked for over two hours the night before, and even though I couldn’t give names or even hint that I was with a motorcycle club, I told her about the man I’d met, the one who drove me insane, the one who made me want to submit at his feet when that was the last thing I should want.
Ever.
She claimed I wasn’t sick—just horny with a kinky side. She had one of her own, but my nose wrinkled when she talked about getting spanked by her long-time boyfriend.
Pain play? No thank you.
“I wanted to get you something nice,” Pia said, bringing me back to their kitchen, “but wasn’t sure what. Once things settle down, I expect you’ll want to head out to see the world. Enjoy your freedom finally.”
Sadness hinted behind her smile, and even though the thought of leaving their house hurt my heart, too, I knew I couldn’t stay.
“Haven’t really thought about that, either.”
She nodded and went back to dinner while Ryker picked up the kitchen’s TV remote to turn it up.
He had a thing with watching the weather—determined to ride his Harley wherever he went, whenever possible. Bundled up like a bear, he headed out every morning on his loud bike at the same time I left for karate.
Clear skies, a bit warmer, the weather girl’s voice came from behind me.
The newscaster took over, her voice way too chipper for the headlines she dropped. Another teenage girl disappeared from the Boston area—that made six in the previous three months.
At the mention of Griffey Industries, my heart stuttered, and I glanced up, the half-chewed bite of lasagna in my mouth losing its flavor.
I’d heard he’d jetted for overseas or some such shit, leaving his wife for a younger woman, and hadn’t been surprised.
Ryker stared at the TV above me, his usual scowl in place.
Ted Griffey stil
l hadn’t been found, the woman behind me continued, and an investigation had begun into his disappearance.
I glanced over to find Pia watching Ryker.
“They never found him overseas with his mistress?” I asked, drawing Pia’s attention to my face.
She blinked once. Twice. And turned toward Ryker as though hoping he would answer.
He flicked off the TV and went back to eating without a peep—not even the usual curses whenever my past came up in his presence.
I turned toward Pia once more, and she gave me that hidden smile again, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I guess not.”
Uh huh.
I glanced between the two a few more times as they ate, my mind having a heyday with the weird vibe I got off both of them.
I’d told Pia Mr. Griffey had touched me inappropriately, and a day later, he’s in the hospital after being mugged. The night he got home, he apologized to me. I’d also learned much later than not long after the rape, he’d gone overseas.
Supposedly.
Ryker hunched over his plate, and a nagging thought rippled through my head. He and his brothers were wicked protective of their own, and if he’d already claimed Pia in his head by that point in time, whatever she cared about became his problem. I’d been around him long enough to know that to be fact.
I hated to admit it, but that kinda turned me on.
My cell dinged, and I pulled it out of my pocket.
HAF: Can’t stop thinking about you.
My face heated as I imagined him stroking himself like he claimed to do when thinking about me. He’d told me that very thing in karate class earlier that morning.
“Stacey?” Pia asked, and I shook my head.
“No.” I couldn’t very well say Hot as Fuck as I’d nicknamed Devil. God knew how Ryker would react. “It’s Devil,” I decided to go with the truth.
I glanced up to find Ryker’s scowl deepened. Big surprise.
“We’re just friends,” I rushed to assure him.