| |
INSIDE HIS SINGLE WIDE trailer, Rane sat at his kitchen table and began unwrapping a chocolate cupcake. "We have to lay low a while."
Kipp lowered his book. "Why? Are the . . . the . . . po . . . police on to us?"
Still shaken from his encounter with Jags earlier that day, Rane couldn't explain how, and he knew if he tried it would sound crazy, but Jags had raped Rane's mind.
How much had he seen?
If Rane was smart, he'd walk away. Things were getting too complicated. But the chance at Ajay's one was too sweet to give up.
Long ago, Rane had promised himself never to be a victim again. But ever since he'd run from Ajay just days ago, he had felt like that geek tied nude to the flagpole all over again.
And until Rane could prove to Ajay he was not to be fucked with, he would remain tied to the flag pole.
But facing any of the Hell Pack gang had proved to be impossible.
Sometimes just thinking about it, made him break out in hives.
Sometimes he sweat profusely.
And sometimes he puked his guts out.
How could he possibly face the ring leader if he couldn't even take out Ajay's minions?
The only way to free himself of that damn flag pole was to face his fear.
Ajay had to die.
But not before working over his little girlfriend. And not before dealing with Jags, Ajay's stepbrother. The freak had violated him. "Jags could be trouble." Rane licked frosting from his fingers.
"What . . . what . . ."
"I'll handle it."
"How?"
The path Jags took into Rane's head was not a one-way road. For a moment, Rane had glimpsed into Jags' head and when it came to Star, the freak teetered on madness.
Jags fucked with his head. And he planned on returning the favor.
––––––––
EMILY FINISHED HER shower and went to her bedroom. Rummaging through her top drawer, she found her sky-blue socks to match her cotton pants patterned with white stars. A red wonder woman tank completed the get up.
Most people who lived in Texas probably didn't wear wool socks to bed but her parents liked it cool and set the air conditioner to a balmy sixty-five degrees. She, however, loved the heat and couldn't imagine living anywhere else.
She bounced on her right foot, pulled the sock on her left, switched to bounce on her other foot.
A shadow moved.
She jumped, audibly squealed.
From the corner of her bedroom, Ajay stepped toward her.
"Emily," her father bellowed up the stairs. "Sweetheart. Everything okay?"
She gave Ajay a heated glance and stuck her head out her bedroom door. "Yeah Dad. It's nothing. Just thought I saw a spider."
"Was it a brown recluse?"
She could hear him climbing the stairs.
She stepped in the hallway, shutting the door behind her. "No. It was nothing."
He pushed past her and into her bedroom. "Where?"
She panned her bedroom to thankfully find Ajay gone. Emily pointed to the top of her dresser. "Right there but it was just a dust bunny."
Her father scoured the dresser top, got on his hands and knees and searched the floor, his face pressed into the carpet. Getting to his feet, he said, "Let me know if you see it again."
She ushered him from her bedroom, covering her mouth and forced a yawn. "Wow. I'm tired. Night Dad."
"Night Sweetheart."
She shut her door and two black booted feet swung from a branch outside her window and into her bedroom. Dashing to the window, she glanced down two stories to the ground. "How the heck did you get up here?"
Back in his corner, hiding in the shadows, he gave her a slight shrug.
She grabbed his hand and led him back to the window. "I don't care, but you have to get that luscious behind back out the window." He looked at her.
She grimaced. "My dad has more guns in his closet than shirts."
Ajay shrugged.
Her hands went to her hips. "My dad will shoot first and I'd say ask questions later, but that would be incorrect. He wouldn't ask one damn question, just haul your bloody corpse down the stairs and chuck you on the front lawn where you'd stay until the police arrived."
Ajay stepped toward her.
"I'm not kidding." Emily grabbed his forearm, to bar him from coming closer. Her fingertips grazed an inch-wide scar that ran from his elbow to his wrist. Her gaze swept to the dime-size scars speckled on his other arm. Burns. "You're a very intense person."
"What are you afraid of?"
Afraid? She wasn't frightened of him. Ridiculous . . . unless she was.
"There are lots of good girls in the world. Why me?"
Their eyes met and her chest tightened. Was he angry or was he amused? She couldn't read his expression, which frustrated her to no end because she knew herself to be an open book.
He reached toward her and she resisted the urge to back away. But he hesitated, as if he knew the instinct she was fighting. Slowly, he continued his reach, to the side of her face. He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. "I like you."
"Why are you giving me the full gambit when there are lots of girls out there who would be more than happy to accommodate you?"
He snickered. "Gambit? Accommodate?" Sporting a wide grin laced with amusement, he slid his finger from her lock of hair. "You run the gambit when you're negotiating with your boss for a raise, or discussing nuclear arms treaties.
Accommodate is what an airline does when they offer a four-hundred-pound man a first class upgrade or what a doctor does when he rearranges his appointments to fit you in." He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him.
She had just started to experience life, spread her wings. And something told her that life with Ajay would imprison her once again. He would insist on knowing where she was, what she was doing and with whom she was doing it. She didn't want to have to report to anyone.
She wanted to fly and Ajay was here to clip her wings.
How did she know this about him?
Because she was very familiar with men like him. Her brother and father happened to be just like him.
But just the same, she couldn't deny her incredible attraction for him. "Do you think we could just be friends? I mean, start this thing slow."
"Emms." He glided his knuckles down her cheek.
The condescending glimmer in his expression caused her cheeks to flush.
"I don't mean to hurt your feelings," she said, "I like you. You have to know that."
"I do?"
"Don't play modest with me. It doesn't suit you. We both know you know how hot you are?"
Lowering his head, his amusing grin grew to a smile gleamed with wickedness.
She laughed. "Go, before my father finds you in here. Please."
He stepped backward and leapt out the window onto a thick tree branch. She watched him jump down, cross the street and vanish behind the tree line.
Biting her thumb nail, she smiled. Her fragile heart raced.
He liked her.
She twirled and skipped down the stairs to the kitchen.
Somewhat unnerved from having a giant of a man, former criminal, and ex-mercenary in her bedroom, she poured herself a glass of milk.
So the guy was a bit overwhelming. So was her dad and Nate. Don't over think it, she told herself.
She finished her milk and went back to her bedroom. Drawing her comforter down, she crawled into bed.
The man could wrap his body around hers completely drowning her with his height and bulk. His unending cynical demeanor didn't help with his overwhelming level of intimidation either.
Not only was he big, strong and cruel, but he was worldly. He had lived life so completely where she had not. He spent four years in the Army and two years as a mercenary. He must have traveled all over the world, seen and experienced so much. She, aside from vacationing at Disney World twice, had never left the great state of Texas.
The mattress sank behind her.
She scrambled to get out of bed, but before she could move, he draped a heavy arm over her waist.
She was trapped.
Unable to move.
Her wings cut.
She looked over her shoulder, readying to tell him to leave, when a familiar scent of tobacco wafted, weirdly not dissimilar to the smell of the interior of Poppy.
A low deep whisper. "Just 'til you fall asleep."
Good grief. Even his voice was sexy as hell. What had she gotten herself into?
She turned back around, facing away from him and put her head to the pillow.
Lying motionless, she searched her mind for the cause of her weariness concerning the man that was currently spooned behind her.
One word.
Stalker.