by A Parker
“Why?” I looked her over from head to toe. She had some nerve walking out of this place looking like that and not telling me what she was up to. It was all a ploy. I knew that. Carrie wasn’t the sort of woman to dress in revealing clothes and go for a walk on the town. She was a Ranger through and through. But this little getup? It worked for me. “Because I fucking told you to, that’s why.”
Carrie’s lips pressed together in a firm line. For a moment, I thought she was going to give me a piece of her mind, but I realized she was trying not to smile.
“I don’t have to listen to you, you know,” she said.
I flicked ash and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. “You’re not going to tell me what you were doing, are you?”
She shook her head slyly.
Damn her. And damn me for liking the added layer of mystery. Her fearless edge had captivated me last night, and now I found myself even more drawn to her and that mischievous glint in her blue eyes. The woman was controlled chaos, if there was such a thing, and more than anything I just wanted to understand her.
Who was she when she was alone?
What thoughts consumed her when it was only her and a silent room?
Was she as fearless in her own company as she was in mine?
Carrie wandered toward me, taking her time with seductive strides as she pushed her hips out with every step. The muscles of her exposed stomach shifted under taut skin and she tucked her long blonde hair behind one ear. The red lipstick she’d applied shortly before leaving the house had faded to a dark pink, and it wasn’t as defined around the edges of her lips as it had been two hours ago.
“Were you worried about me?” she asked.
“Worried?” I flicked the rest of my cigarette and crushed it under my boot. The butt lay squashed and dead with all the others beside a sprout of green weed attempting to climb between the paving stone cracks. “Sweetheart, you must have me confused with someone else.”
“Really?” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Because from where I’m standing, you seemed a little worried.”
Devil woman. “I know you can handle yourself,” I said.
She stopped about two feet away from me. “Do you trust me, Tex?”
I searched her eyes. “That’s a complicated question.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” My gut wanted to say that yes, I did trust her, but my head swirled with all of Jackson’s warnings and his own doubt about her. This was a woman completely capable of doing anything. If she wanted to, she could kill me. I was sure of that.
And there was always a chance that she intended to do just that.
However, as I looked into her eyes, I didn’t see menace or malintent. I saw openness and a silent plea on her parted lips.
She wanted exactly what I wanted.
“I want to trust you,” I said, because that was the only thing I could say that wasn’t a lie, and for some reason, I didn’t want to lie to her.
She nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Do you trust me?”
Carrie smiled. Instead of answering me, she pulled her red crop top off over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her tits were a milky white compared to the rest of her tanned skin. She squeezed them together in her hands and whispered, “I want to.”
That was all I needed to hear.
I surged forward, swept her up in my arms, and pushed her back into the kitchen, where I pinned her against the cabinets while I tore her leggings off. She giggled and gasped as I tore the fabric free, and once she stood before me in nothing but a strappy pair of black underwear, I nipped at her lips for a desperate kiss.
She held my face in her hands and kissed me back, panting against my lips, her breasts crushed against my ribs. I had to lean down to her to make up for our difference in height, but I loved how she felt in my arms. She wasn’t a fragile woman, quite the opposite, but she was petite. She knew how to use her body to her advantage in a fight, I was sure, and she could probably hold me at bay for a time, but I loved how she softened to me.
How she chose to let me get so close.
Carrie hooked a leg around mine and I gripped her thigh, holding her knee to my hip. I reached down between her thighs and pulled her panties to the side. She gasped when I touched her, and her whole body stiffened. She clung to my shoulder, her nails pressing into muscle, and bit down so hard on her bottom lip it turned white around her teeth despite the lipstick.
“Relax,” I muttered in her ear. “I’ve got you.”
Carrie held her breath a moment longer before shuddering as she exhaled. Her muscles softened and her eyelids fluttered. I rubbed her clit in slow circles, taking my time with her. A tightly wound woman couldn’t possibly have a good time, and I wanted to make sure she felt good.
When I pressed a finger inside her, Carrie whimpered and released my shoulders to grip the counter at her back. She leaned against it, and I lifted her up and set her down on the countertop. She gasped at the cool surface on her bare ass but instinctively spread her legs for me.
Her pussy sucked at my fingers. She was already swollen in anticipation, and her clit felt hard as I swept my fingertips over it. She quivered and moaned as I teased her, sliding a finger in and out of her and massaging her vulva. She pulsed around my fingers, rolled her hips, and tipped her head back so that the end of her hair grazed the counters.
Goddess, I thought. I’d never seen anything like her. Never felt anything like her.
Carrie reached for the front of my jeans and tugged impatiently at my belt buckle. Chuckling, I gave her a helping hand and undid the belt as well as my fly. She plunged her hand down the front of my jeans and gripped my cock over my boxers.
Her blue eyes stared up at me and burned with lust. “Hi.”
My cock strained in her hand. “Hi.”
She smiled with heavy eyelids and moaned as I gave her another finger and fucked her deep and slow. I could hear how wet she was. She spread her legs wide enough to rest her toes on the counters. I ran a hand up the inside of her thigh and back down before dropping my pants.
She licked her lips. I dropped my boxers, too. Satisfied that I was also naked, Carrie worked me over in her hand while I fucked her with my fingers until she writhed on the counters and released me.
She threw her head back with a feral cry and white-knuckled the countertops as she came. I rubbed her juices over her before reaching over her leg to grab a condom from the drawer. She fell back on her elbows, out of breath and dazed, while I rolled it on, pushed my hips forward, and slid deep inside her.
She let out another cry.
I gripped her hips and held her in place. This time, I didn’t take it easy on her. I filled her up and pumped inside her mercilessly. Carrie reached over her head, searching for something to grab onto. Instead, she knocked a bunch of dishes to the floor. They shattered at my feet.
I kept fucking her.
Carrie’s back arched. She screamed my name and came again when I pressed down on her clit. She squirmed and pushed me away, but I wasn’t done with her.
I lifted her off the counter, mindful of the broken dishes on the floor, spun her around, and bent her over.
She yelped when I slapped her ass but lifted to the tips of her toes, arched her back, and looked at me over her shoulder, begging for more.
I gave it to her. I gave it all to her.
She moaned, deep and guttural, as I slid inside her again. She tried to hold herself up on her elbows, but eventually she gave in and lay forward, resting her cheek on the counter. She reached back and gripped my hip with one hand. I wasn’t sure if she was asking for more, asking me to stop, or just needed to touch me, so I leaned over her, pulled her hair off the back of her neck, and showered her with kisses.
She sighed beneath me.
I took a fistful of her hair and lifted her cheek off the counter to crush my lips to hers. She arched like a cat and began bouncing her hips, fucking my cock as I plunged my to
ngue into her mouth. Her whimpers became muted cries, smothered against my lips. She reached behind my neck and held me to her. Her fingers knotted in my hair.
I gripped her hips, pushed down, and thrust wildly inside her.
Carrie came up for air with a scream. I pushed her back down on the counter by the back of her neck and held her there while she spasmed from her orgasm. I let loose, giving in to the voice whispering for me to let go. My orgasm was as ferocious as hers. My veins burned with pleasure as I looked down at the beautiful woman willing to give it all to me.
When I was done, I scooped her up. Her thighs quivered and her knees shook, and she held on to my neck as I carried her through the debris of my broken dishes to the sofa and got her a glass of water. She curled up into one corner and watched me while she took a sip. I sat beside her, wrapped an arm around her, and pulled her in close against me.
She relaxed and curled into my side. Her eyes fluttered closed and she slid an arm around my waist. Our hearts beat like thunder in our chests, and the quiet apartment echoed with all our unspoken thoughts.
Chapter 14
Carrie
While Tex slept beside me, I counted his breaths.
One in. One out.
He breathed deeply, the way a man might who didn’t worry about the noose tightening around his neck.
Two in. Two out.
I shifted slightly, my yellow daisy-printed sheets rustling softly beneath me, and cupped my hand under my cheek while I lay on my side and watched him.
He slept on his back with his face turned away from me. The moonlight pouring in the warehouse windows over our heads painted his skin a moody dark blue, and he looked like a movie character basking in the waning light of night. Somewhere outside, an early morning bird sang, and Tex’s eyelids fluttered in a dream.
Three in. Three out.
What did a man like him dream about?
I smiled and drew the blankets up under my chin. Racing motorcycles and drinking beer, probably.
In sleep, he hardly looked like the man who’d just fucked me senseless in the kitchen the night before last. He’d been animalistic then—a primal force of lust and reckless abandon unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Our energy felt as though we were made for each other. He gave me something I had never felt before and I wished I had the words to define it. Unfortunately, I did not, and I knew nobody from the outside looking in could ever understand the magnetism I felt between us.
Four in. Four out.
Hell, I wondered if I could ever explain it to Tex. Did he feel it, too? Or did he just crave the superficial layer of what we were? Surely, he didn’t think anything real was forming between us. For lack of a better word, our affair was taboo. Jackson would never approve, and since Tex was part of such a tightknit MC, I found it hard to believe he’d go against Jackson’s wishes if push came to shove.
Five in. Five out.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the exposed pipes in the ceiling overhead.
What is wrong with you?
It didn’t matter if he picked me over Jackson because that wasn’t how this story was going to end. I knew the ending already. Bates had to go to prison, and so did his daughter, who I still wasn’t sure whether or not she was a psychopath, sociopath, or both. Once that was done, I’d hop on a plane and head back to Austin and leave Reno behind me where it belonged.
I’d go back to my old life and so would Tex.
At least, that was how it should end.
I hated waiting. It felt like it was all I was doing these days. I’d confronted Caroline in the salon over forty-eight hours ago and had yet to hear a peep from her or her father.
Perhaps I needed to make myself more accessible. Perhaps I needed to remind them that I was still a valuable player on the board.
Slowly, carefully, I pulled the blankets down, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and rose to my feet. The mattress creaked softly beneath me but didn’t disturb Tex. I found my pistol, where I kept it hidden in my suitcase, and strapped it to the inside of my thigh before stepping into a shin-length dress. I’d bought it for a friend’s baby shower years ago and hadn’t worn it since, but it worked perfectly for what I needed tonight. I dropped a pocketknife in my purse, threw my hair up in a ponytail, and snuck out of the bedroom to fetch the keys to the Chevelle.
There weren’t many bars open at this time of morning in Reno. The only place I happened upon with a red neon sign flashing “Open” was a place with a sign that read “BAR” over the awning above the front door. As I approached, the bouncer stood up a little straighter and looked down the length of his wide nose at me.
“Evening,” I said, knowing full well I looked out of place there.
He looked me up and down before stepping aside to let me pass.
“Thanks,” I muttered, treading over the carpet in the foyer of the bar.
It smelled like calamari and sour beer. I scrunched up my nose as I looked around. It was dingy, that was for damn sure, and looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the seventies. The carpets were a deep burgundy brown with little burnt-yellow diamonds on them. Wall sconces provided dim, amber light that didn’t penetrate the corners, where clusters of men in leather jackets and hats stood shoulder to shoulder, most likely dealing.
Charming place, I thought as I waded into its depths. I couldn’t linger at the door too long. I’d draw too much attention.
I moved to the bar at the back, where a man in his sixties wiped out cocktail glasses with a stained rag. He peered up at me from under his mop of gray hair. “What can I get you?”
I licked my lips as I settled onto the barstool and set my purse down on the open seat beside me. I wanted the knife within reach just in case. The leather seat was cracked and poked at my rear end. I wished they had a menu so I knew what I could order in a bottle or a can. A joint like this gave me the creeps, and the last thing I wanted was a mixed drink from a guy who looked like he had a criminal record longer than my hair.
“Corona?” I asked.
He snorted in judgment but fetched me a bottle of beer anyway. I shook my head when he asked if I wanted a lime wedge.
After he handed me my beer, I turned in my stool to get a better look at the place.
On the opposite side of the bar, near the only window in the place, was a pool table. Three men and a middle-aged woman stood around it, leaning on their pool cues. Two of the men were looking in my direction while the third leaned over the table to take his shot.
Most of the eyes in the place wandered toward me. Without a doubt, I was not the kind of customer they were used to seeing.
Perhaps I should have thought this through a bit more.
No, I thought sternly. You can handle yourself, and this is better than sitting around waiting. Someone here will be connected to Bates. Finish your beer and sit tight.
It was easier said than done.
The strangers in the bar didn’t waste energy trying to conceal the fact that they were talking about me. Groups in booths bowed together and cast wary glances in my direction. Solitary men pulled out phones and looked over their shoulders at me while they spoke in hushed tones. Women scowled through smudged-mascara eyes.
Still, I waited.
When a hush fell over the bar, my back was turned to the door. I had ordered a second beer a couple minutes prior, and I knew as I heard the muted thud of high heels across the thin carpet that the person I was waiting for had arrived.
My plan worked.
Caroline Bates sat two stools down from me. As per usual, she wore all black, and tonight or this morning, whatever time it was, she looked particularly menacing. She sported her usual slicked-back ponytail and red lips. Her red nails clicked on the bar as she drummed her fingers, and the bartender fixed her a martini without her having to speak a word.
“What are you doing here, little mouse?” Caroline purred and leaned back in her stool as she took her first sip of her martini. The bartender watched with wide,
fearful eyes. I wondered if he’d made her this drink a hundred times over and feared her wrath if he fucked it up. She seemed to enjoy it because she sipped it again before fishing out the tiny plastic sword and plucking one of the three olives off between her perfect white teeth.
“I got tired of waiting for your father to reach out,” I said.
“You think your time is as important as his?”
“I think not wasting his or my time is important,” I said.
Caroline smirked. “You play with words like I play with little girls who think they’re tougher than they are. Like your friend, Suzie.”
I knew Caroline was trying to get under my skin by referencing how she’d crashed her car into Suzie’s truck one night. After the crash, Caroline promptly, and for lack of a better word, kicked the shit out of Suzie on the sidewalk and left her there.
Just because she could.
I decided to shift gears on her and change the subject. “How’s your martini?”
Caroline’s lips formed a smile as she pressed them to the rim of the glass. “About as satisfactory as it could be in a place like this.”
The bartender winced.
Caroline tipped her head back and drank the rest of her martini like an animal. “Finish your beer and come with me.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Had this really worked? I half expected Caroline or her father to come find me tonight, but I didn’t expect them to want to talk—or do something else. What if she wanted to kill me and officially get me out of the way?
I drained my beer and reminded myself that I had a knife in my purse and a gun strapped to my inner thigh. If things went bad, I had resources—enough to get the hell out of Dodge if I needed to.
Caroline moved languidly through the bar, but she didn’t go to the main entrance. Instead, she took a dimly lit hallway that broke off into men’s and women’s washrooms as well as a storage room. I followed her as the darkness thickened, and we eventually reached a metal door with an exit sign over our heads. She pushed out into the night, and I found myself in a nearly empty parking lot. To our right was an overflowing garbage and recycling unit. It looked like this place didn’t bother to use the recycling, and everything went in the trash.