Colt tightened his grip on the Charger’s steering wheel and checked the rearview mirror for what had to be the two hundredth time since they’d left Los Angeles, just after dark. They’d hidden out in a hotel after the attack last night and waited until nightfall tonight to head out, because they’d be a lot harder to follow under cover of darkness. He’d done a sweep of the Charger with his radio frequency signal detector, but the car was clean.
He glanced over at Taylor in the passenger seat, her chin in her hand as she gazed out the window at the starless night. She must be tired. She hadn’t slept last night after the events at his house. He knew, because he hadn’t, either.
Colt hadn’t believed it when he’d heard it from the guy’s mouth. His words, barely a whisper: “It’s the Brotherhood, man. And we’ll keep coming.”
The cops had rushed in, and once the three attackers had been arrested, Zack, Colt, and Taylor had all gone down to the station for questioning. Taylor had told them everything about her dad, his harassment and his threats, and everything had clicked together.
The Grim Weavers were rumored to be dealing drugs for the Golden Brotherhood, a powerful, underground, organized-crime ring so legendary in its activities it was almost mythical. Hell, before last night Colt had thought the Brotherhood was made up, or that if they were real, their reach, influence, and power were severely exaggerated.
He’d been wrong.
Now, with the mounting evidence and the arrest of three key Brotherhood enforcers, the LAPD were planning raids on both the Brotherhood and the Grim Weavers. And until everything settled down, Colt’s focus was getting Taylor somewhere safe and keeping her that way. Everything else was in the hands of the police now, but her safety was still his responsibility, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.
He clenched his jaw tightly as he thought of how close she’d come to getting injured or worse last night. So first thing this morning, he’d called his sister and asked if he could use the cabin she and Paul owned just outside of Big Bear Lake. While they laid low, Sean had assured Colt he’d stay in touch with the LAPD about the status of the investigation and keep an eye out for any suspicious activity.
As Colt drove, he didn’t give a shit about the pain from his face, his knuckles, and the various bruises and scrapes on his body. They were nothing, because she was here, beside him, safe and whole. Staring out at the night, he made a silent vow that he’d do everything in his power to protect Taylor, no matter the cost.
* * *
Ronnie hefted the cleaver in his hand and brought it down hard on the flesh in front of him, a slight shiver teasing through him as he worked the knife through skin, fat, muscle, and sinew, all of it parting under the steel in his hand. He glanced up at the clock on the wall in the walk-in refrigerator where he worked, and his stomach roiled, not because of the meat—no, the meat was beautiful, the only thing keeping him together right now—but because his visitor would be here any minute.
He’d made up his mind several days ago and had reached out to his black market contact again, but he didn’t want more spy equipment this time. No, he needed something darker, something harder to come by. At the thought of the spy equipment, anger gripped him. The way the brute had taunted him, had practically flaunted the vulgar way he was treating Taylor—it made Ronnie want to scream. The brute had no claim to her. She belonged to Ronnie. And he was getting fucking sick of her pretending that she didn’t. That she wasn’t supposed to be at his side, bearing his children, giving him everything she had. Her body. Her mind. Her spirit. Everything.
If she wasn’t his, why had she written all those songs about him? About them? If she wasn’t his, why did he hear her voice in his head, whispering promises? She was the Juliet to his Romeo, and the harder the world struggled to keep them apart, the more his love, his passion, and his need for her grew.
And he’d show them all. He’d make them sorry they laughed. Sorry they doubted. Especially Frank. Ronnie had joined the Grim Weavers over a year ago now in an attempt to get closer to Taylor through her father, but he’d been dismayed to learn that they didn’t have a relationship. He’d tried on several occasions to broach the subject of Taylor with Frank, but Frank had always waved the topic aside, more concerned with bikes, women, and drugs than his daughter, and the man who loved her.
A knock at the back door sent a quiver through his muscles, and he set the cleaver down, wiping his hands on his apron and walking across the space, nudging the door open with his shoulder.
“You Baker?” asked the man, who Ronnie was both relieved and disappointed to find looked completely normal. He was of average height with a large build, probably in his early forties, and had thinning sandy hair and a neatly groomed goatee. He wore a red long-sleeved shirt and khakis with sneakers. He could’ve been anyone. A dentist. A teacher. The guy next door.
He certainly didn’t look like a man who killed for money. But he’d come highly recommended and had fit Ronnie’s budget.
“You have what I asked for?” the man asked as he stepped through the door.
Ronnie nodded at him and pulled the envelope from his pocket that contained $10,000 cash—his entire savings, plus money he’d borrowed from the bank—and a photo of the brute. He held the envelope toward the man but pulled it back at the last second. “And my terms? That I come with you to get the woman while you take care of the target?”
The man nodded, took the money, and pocketed it. “You know where they are?”
“His sister has a cabin near Big Bear,” he said, immensely proud of himself for having the foresight to hire a private investigator to dig up as much information on the brute, his family, and his friends as possible. “I know they left town, and I think they went there. The address is in the envelope.”
The man nodded and opened the door. “We’ll go up soon. I’ll call you when it’s time.”
He stepped through the door into the bright sunshine and disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived.
Soon, she would belong to Ronnie forever.
* * *
The cabin was glorious. Surrounded by towering pines and snow-capped mountains, it felt as though it were on the other side of the world from Los Angeles, despite the fact that the drive had only been about three hours. The night Taylor and Colt had arrived, they’d settled into the small cabin quickly, storing the groceries they’d stopped for along the way. Colt had gone through the cabin, checking the locks on all the doors and windows, making sure he had cell reception, and changing one of the outside lightbulbs that was burnt out. He’d also set up a basic alarm system. It wasn’t fancy, but it was the best he could do on short notice.
The cabin itself was small but cozy. The exterior was a mix of logs and stones, and while it was older, some of the fixtures, like the windows and the kitchen appliances, were newer. The front door entered into the living room, furnished with beat-up leather couches covered in plaid blankets and throw pillows and facing a fireplace with a flat-screen TV mounted above it. The living room opened onto the small kitchen, and a door off of the kitchen led to the outdoor space at the back, which featured a deck with several Adirondack chairs, a fire pit, and a spectacular view of Big Bear Lake, the water a glimmering cobalt. A hallway ran along the back of the cabin, and it led to two bedrooms and a tiny but newly renovated bathroom, with a walk-in shower, toilet, and sink.
It was their own tiny oasis, a stunningly beautiful and peaceful cocoon from the outside world. She felt safe—and yes, the cabin and its location had something to do with it, but mostly it was because of Colt. From the night they’d arrived, he’d kept her close, protecting her with his body, holding her as she slept, with his strong arms wrapped around her and her face pressed against his chest. That first night, she’d fallen into a deep sleep after they’d made love, not having slept much the night before. She’d found almost immeasurable comfort in the scent of Colt’s skin and the warm, steady thump of his heart against her cheek. But before that sleep, they’d been desperate for each other, and with their limbs intertwined, sweat glistening on his skin, he’d shattered her, over and over again. The second time, deep in the middle of the night, when she’d woken and reached for him, had been slower, sweeter, his fingers laced with hers as he made love to her, his body over hers as he’d kissed her until neither of them could breathe.
Until she forgot where she ended and he started.
Now she sat with her acoustic guitar in her lap, picking out Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” while she watched the sun set over the lake. Colt grilled hamburgers and corn on the cob on the barbecue, and she thought back to the first morning she’d woken up here, a couple of days ago. Days that felt like years. Days bathed in warm, golden sunlight and capped with magical, silvery moonlight. Days where the fact that multiple psychopaths were after her didn’t matter. Colt, and making music, and the beauty surrounding them. That was all that mattered.
That first morning, she’d flung an arm over her eyes and then turned her face back into the pillow, the sun barely peeking in around the curtains, and she’d forgotten for a second where she was. Before she’d opened her eyes, Colt had pulled her close and kissed her temple, his stubble rasping against her skin. She’d turned into him, throwing her leg over his.
“Morning.” She’d buried her face in his neck, breathing in his warm, comforting scent.
“Morning, gorgeous.” He’d threaded his fingers into her hair, brushing her tangled locks away from her face.
“Don’t get up yet,” she’d mumbled. “I know you’re an early riser, but stay with me.”
He’d laughed and brushed his lips against hers before he’d flipped her on her back. His mouth trailed over the sensitive skin just below her ear as their legs tangled together.
“I am an early riser.” He’d pulled back and wiggled his eyebrows. “A big one.”
She’d laughed, and she’d felt as though she were floating off the mattress and melting into Colt. “So humble.”
He’d kneed her legs apart and she’d felt his cock, hot and hard, slide against the inside of her thigh. “It’s not bragging if it’s true.”
She’d laughed again and wrapped her legs around his hips, sighing and arching up into him as he took her nipple into his mouth. “Mmm. Can’t argue with that.”
But instead of reaching over to the nightstand for a condom as she’d expected, he’d settled beside her and slid a hand down her body, over her breast, her ribs, into the dip created by her hipbone. “I’ll stay with you as long as you want, gorgeous. As long as you want.” His hand had slipped between her parted thighs, and his fingers had brushed gently against her lips. With sure movements, he’d eased her lips apart and slipped a finger into her. She’d clenched around him, and he’d smiled, pulling his finger out and slicking her wetness over her, his fingers rubbing a slow, teasing circle over her clit. She’d let out a soft moan, and he’d repeated the motion, adding a bit more pressure as her hips rose to his touch. He’d moved his fingers in a sure, steady rhythm, doing nothing except stroking her clit, until she fell apart in his arms, her legs shaking, her muscles rigid, his name falling from her lips in breathy gasps.
“You are so beautiful when you come,” he’d said, his deep voice rumbling across her oversensitized skin. He’d looked down at her, a smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. It was then that he’d reached for a condom while her stomach let out a long, loud grumble.
“Let’s get you fed first,” he’d said and winked. “I need your energy up for what I have planned for you.”
An unwelcome rush of cool air had tingled across her skin as he’d pushed up off the bed. She’d watched with pure female appreciation as he’d bent and scooped his boxers off the floor, yanking them on and then his jeans, his muscles flexing and bunching beneath his taut, tattooed skin, his big hands pulling his pants on. With possessive satisfaction, she’d noticed the red lines down his back, scratches from the night before.
Her stomach had grumbled again, and with a sigh, she’d levered herself upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She’d extended her arms above her head and stretched, the afterglow of her orgasm still tingling through her.
She’d heard a low, gruff moan of appreciation from behind her and glanced over her shoulder. Colt stood with one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his bare chest, a thumb resting against his bottom lip.
She’d bit her lip and smiled. “Enjoying the view?”
His eyes had crinkled as he smiled. “Always, gorgeous.”
“Back atcha.”
Her stomach growled loudly again in the quiet room, and he laughed, bending to pull a clean shirt out of his duffel bag. “Come on. Breakfast. Then, I promise, we’ll go back to bed.”
He’d kept his promise.
Bringing herself back to the present, she let out a sigh as she strummed her guitar idly, watching the sun sink into the trees, casting dreamy pink and orange light over the lake.
For the first time in weeks, maybe even years, she felt peaceful. Happy, despite everything going on. And she knew it was because of Colt.
* * *
“I want to suck your cock.” Taylor’s husky voice sizzled against his ear as she slipped her arms around his waist from behind. He paused with his hands immersed in warm, soapy water, a sponge in his hands as he washed their dinner dishes. He pulled his hands out of the water so fast that he flung suds against the window above the sink. He spun and pulled her against him, slamming his mouth into hers.
Tongues and lips melded together instantly, and she let out a breathy moan that sent even more blood flowing to his cock. Her mouth was warm and hungry against his, her breath sweet and addictive. He kissed her with abandon, losing himself in the perfection of her mouth.
“I love how you taste,” she breathed in a husky voice, her lips moving against his as she spoke. “And I want to taste all of you.”
“Fuck, yes.”
With a sweet smile, she sank gracefully to her knees. She looked up at him through her lashes, her blue eyes slightly hooded and dark with lust. Without a word, she undid his pants, the metallic zip echoing in the kitchen as she lowered his fly, and then she slipped his cock and balls through the fly of his boxer briefs. The fact that they were both still fully dressed with only his massive erection and heavy, quickly tightening balls protruding from his pants was a hell of a turn-on.
Her eyes locked with his as she wrapped one hand around the base of his shaft and licked the clear bead of moisture from his swollen head. She hummed out her approval. “So good.”
His hands found their way into her golden waves, holding her hair back from her face in loose fistfuls. She dipped her head slightly, sucking one of his balls into her mouth and swirling her tongue lightly over it before releasing it and tracing her tongue up the underside of his shaft in one long, slow lick.
“Fuck, gorgeous,” he whispered. She slicked her tongue over her palm and stroked him, just once, and then pressed the head of his cock against her lips. Just when he thought the visual couldn’t get any more perfect, she smiled and enveloped him in the wet heat of her mouth. He fought the urge to tip his head back and close his eyes, because he needed to watch every single second of Taylor on her knees with his throbbing cock in her mouth. She teased the head, swirling her tongue over it, sucking it, pressing it against the inside of her cheek. The pleasure of it, hot and intense, was tearing him into little pieces, shredding him from the inside out until he had to remind himself to breathe. She pulled back, stroking him a few times, slicking the moisture from her mouth over him. Heat pulsed low in his gut, electric tension radiating through his muscles and across his skin.
“I love how you feel in my mouth,” she murmured. He’d been about to reply with something dirty and encouraging but was only able to let out a long, low groan as she filled her mouth and throat with his pulsing dick, taking him far, far deeper than he’d have guessed she could. Wet heat engulfed him, her mouth deliciously tight around him. She anchored her hands on his hips and began bobbing her head in a sure, steady rhythm.
He fought the urge to move his hips, but as though she could sense what he needed, she moaned and picked up her pace. His vision narrowed, almost fading in and out at times. Probably because his eyes were on the verge of rolling back into his head.
“Fuck, Taylor,” he managed, his hands tightening their grip in her hair. “Your mouth feels so damn good. Holy shit.”
She slowed her rhythm and looked up at him, her blue eyes bright with lust and arousal. God, she was enjoying it, and fuck if that didn’t make what was already the hottest blow job of his life even hotter. When she looked up at him like that, his cock filling her pretty mouth, he felt like a fucking god. A god who would do anything for her.
His balls tightened with a sharp, sweet twinge, and he knew he was going to come soon. Very soon. Searing pleasure radiated from his balls and up his cock, intensifying with each sweep of her mouth up and down his shaft. Pressure built, an incredible sensation of fullness swelling his cock almost to the bursting point.
“Taylor, I’m gonna come, so if you don’t want…” His voice was hoarse and shaky, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t able to finish his thought because she sucked him hard and deep, and he hit the point of no return. All other sensation in his body dropped away, and his entire existence narrowed to his cock.
He ground out her name as he felt the first intense throb of his orgasm blast through him. With his hands wound tightly in her hair, he came hard, pulsing his release into her beautiful mouth. With half-open eyes, he watched her swallow down everything he had, knowing the moment would be forever burned into his brain.
She slowed her movements, giving him a few seconds to ride it out. A heavy numbness invaded his limbs, his dick warm and tingling from the release. With an adorable, self-satisfied smile, she tucked him back into his pants and stood, smoothing her hands down the front of her shirt. Hoping he could trust his legs to support him, he pushed off the counter and circled his arms around her waist, pulling her into him and kissing the soft, warm skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
“That was fucking incredible. Thank you.”
She pulled back and smiled, biting her lip. “You can pay me back later.”
“Trust me, it’s at the top of my to-do list.” He pressed his face into her neck, trailing kisses across her throat. “You are a very naughty girl, and I fucking love it.”
“Mmm. Maybe I need to be spanked.”
He spun her around and leaned her over the counter, his hands dropping to her ass. He caressed the supple flesh and then roughly squeezed, a hand on each cheek. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Because despite the intense orgasm he’d just had, he was beginning to stir in his jeans at the thought of bending her over and marking the pale flesh of her sweet little ass with his hand print. Marking his territory and claiming it for his own.
“But you’ll die such a happy man,” she said, pressing her ass against his hands.
“God, you’ve ruined me for other women.” He meant it as a joke, but his heart stuttered, tripping over itself, stopping and then restarting with a jolt as the truth of that statement washed over him.
“Good.” She drew in close, her breath hot on his ear as she wound her arms around his neck. “I don’t want there to be any other women. Only me.”
“There aren’t; only you. No other men?”
She pressed her forehead against his and shook her head. “Only you. I only want you.”
Even with a gun to his head, he couldn’t have stopped his wide smile from surfacing. “You and me, gorgeous. It’s you and me.”
She sighed, and he felt a tremor pass through her. “I really like how that sounds.”
“No one else. Just you and me.” He cupped her face, tracing his thumbs over her cheekbones. When he kissed her, he tried to pour everything good that was filling him up into the kiss. Everything he was too scared to voice. The hope. The happiness.
The feeling that maybe he’d found home.