Ruthless (5 page)

J
UNE 8

Zag bent over the frame of his buddy's custom chopper and stared at the clusterfuck of wiring he was supposed to be connecting. If there was one part of his job as a mechanic that he hated every second of, it was electrical work. The wires were too fucking small for his thick fingers; every time, he ended up with a tangled train wreck that he didn't want to look at, let alone spend time untwisting.

Like now.

Fuck. Every single goddamn time.

He pushed back from the frame with more force than necessary. The bike rattled on the lift but fortunately didn't topple over. Because that would've been the fucking cherry on this craptastic Sunday.

He really needed a drink.

Only the thought of the mess of wires he'd find when he showed up at work tomorrow kept him from popping the top on one of the cold ones they kept in the communal fridge. If he was having such a shit time wiring now, he knew alcohol wouldn't make the job any better.

What he needed was a little stress release.

Like some more quality time with Jessica. That would sure as hell work out the kinks in his neck right about now.

Although the thought of her spread out naked on his bike lift caused a whole 'nother problem below the belt. Thank God he was in the shop alone. At least he didn't have an audience while he was sporting wood in front of a bike frame. Reb or Bump would never let him hear the end of it.

The sound of the door rattling had him looking for something to hide his boner behind like he was a seventh-grader who toted his math book up to the chalkboard with him. He hoped he didn't look too suspicious hiding behind his tool chest, ten feet from the bike lift. Christ, he had to get this shit under control. He couldn't remember a time when just thinking about a chick got him so wound up.

Still, it wasn't a bad problem to have. Just fucking embarrassing.

But every thought of embarrassment drained out of him the minute he saw Bobby standing in the doorway of the shop. Bobby's jaw was a muddle of purple and red. His right eye was purple and so swollen he could hardly open it.

“What the fuck?” Zag left the shield of the tool chest and was at Bobby's side in an instant. “Shit, kid. Who did this? Do we need to ride on those fucking Truckee Tramps?” If their rival club had screwed with one of his prospectives, there would be hell to pay.

Bobby's gaze dropped to the pavement and his shoulder hunched.

And Zag knew.

There was a reason why Zag had been willing to sponsor a virtually unknown prospective member. With his own fucked-up background, Zag knew how hard it was to admit what was going on at home. Especially to a hard-ass biker. Weakness wasn't allowed in their group. Hell, half the time the guys beat on each other for fun. But Zag knew what Bobby was going through wasn't fun. Or easy. Which was why he'd argued hard to get Bobby into the club. He'd taken one look at Bobby and had just known. They'd shared a bond. One Bobby wasn't even aware of.

Zag took a deep breath and tried to soften his approach. “Was there something you needed, kid? I'm elbow deep in some wiring work and you know how much I love that.”

Bobby hitched a shoulder. “I, uh, I was hoping you could help me move?”

Since Bobby wasn't watching him, Zag didn't bother to hide his reaction.
Son of a bitch.
He could understand why the kid wanted out, but given what he assumed a prep cook at the Mother Lode Casino made and the hours Bobby worked, Zag doubted the kid could afford much.

“Have you signed a lease yet?”

Bobby's head jerked up and he leveled a glare at Zag. “What's that gotta do with anything?”

Zag didn't flinch. It'd take a hell of a lot more than Bobby's one-eyed glare to get under
his
skin. “Just answer the question.”

“No. It's Sunday, the office is closed. I'm supposed to go over tomorrow and fill it out.”

Zag walked over and snagged the keys to the shop's pickup. “Come on. Let's go check out your new digs.”

Bobby stared mulishly back at him.

“Well, do you want the help tomorrow or not?”

“Fine.” Bobby pushed back from the doorway and stepped outside. “But I don't have a lotta shit to haul. Just needed someone with access to a truck.”

Zag hitched a shoulder, then followed Bobby out the door and tried not to feel so special about being asked to help. He knew the kid didn't mean anything by it, but it was the first time he'd ever asked for anything. Hell. He had to nag the kid just to get him to accept a position as a prospect in the club.

And Zag had never nagged anyone in his entire adult life.

The minute Bobby told him the address, Zag got a knot in the pit of his stomach. Unless some do-gooder had changed the neighborhood, they were not driving toward a decent end of town. He'd had a feeling this would be the case. Shit.

Zag was tempted to finally spill the beans to Bobby about what his own childhood had been like, why he'd joined the club, and why he'd pushed like hell to get Bobby in, too. He stole a glance at the kid out of the corner of his eye and decided maybe this wasn't the time.

Bobby held his fisted hands in his lap, and his jaw flexed as he no doubt gritted his teeth. He had don't-come-anywhere-near-me vibes radiating a mile wide. Shit. Shit. Shit. Subtlety had never been one of Zag's strong suits. And he had a feeling Bobby needed to be treated with kid gloves right now.

So instead they rode in silence the entire way over.

But the minute Zag turned into the apartment complex's parking lot, he knew he'd have to say something. The kid gloves were coming off. No way in hell was he letting Bobby move in here.

No one would voluntarily leave their gorgeous tree-lined street to move into this hellhole. The best thing he could say about the place was that it had landscaping—if you could call sun-baked brown grass and tumbleweeds landscaping. Between the falling-down car ports no one was brave enough to park under and the spray-paint-tagged buildings, Zag knew Bobby had to be desperate to call this shit hole home. But judging from the bruising on Bobby's face, that wasn't exactly a surprise. Zag was just as desperate to get Bobby out of that horror show he called home. But he wasn't letting the kid move in here.

He stopped the truck in the middle of the parking lot and turned to Bobby. “Not happening.”

“What?”

“You. Moving in here. Not happening.”

“For fuck's sake, Zag. I'm not a kid.”

“You're eighteen years old and don't have two nickels to rub together. But I'm not letting you move in here.”

“Fuck you, man. If you think I'm staying home, you're smoking something. I don't have anywhere else to go. This is what I can afford, and I didn't ask for the commentary on my shitty life.”

“I wasn't commenting. It doesn't gotta be like this.”

“Yeah, well, unless I hit Megabucks, this is my life. Are you gonna help me move or not?”

“Sure. Just not the way you asked.”

“God dammit, Zag. I don't—”

“I got two extra bedrooms. One of them's yours.”

“I don't want a handout.”

“Ain't a handout. You can pay me whatever rent they were asking for this shit hole.”

Bobby stared out the passenger window and didn't answer right away. His sullen anger vibrated inside the cab.

Zag picked at the aging rubber on the steering wheel. “This is pretty much the same deal Reb offered me twenty years ago.”

“What?”

“Only I wasn't the one who chose to leave. My mom threw me out at sixteen. She decided that I was putting a crimp in her druggie lifestyle. I'm pretty sure it was her dealer/pimp boyfriend's idea. Made it easier to hook without her kid walking in the door. So Reb took me in.”

“Shit,” Bobby whispered.

“I couldn't afford to pay rent. But Reb still took me, gave me a roof over my head and food in my belly. I worked like hell to pay him back, but it never feels like it's enough. I'd die for that guy. But until then, how about you let me pay it forward?”

Bobby jerked his head in a short nod.

“All right. Let's go get your shit.”

“I, uh—”

“Kid, I can promise you there's nothing at your house that I didn't see a thousand times at my own. Don't sweat it.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

This time the drive was less awkward. Bobby was still a bundle of nerves. He practically twitched with every bump in the road, but he was a little more relaxed. At least he wasn't worried anymore about what Zag would find when they got to his house.

Or so Zag thought.

When he pulled the truck into Bobby's driveway, the kid unbuckled his seat belt and turned to him with a panicked frown. “Just stay here. I'll get my stuff.”

He was out of the truck and halfway to the front door before Zag could open his mouth.

“Fuck that.” Zag was just as quick as he tore up the driveway and through the front door. He didn't bother knocking.

“Well, you're no picnic to live with, either!” A haggard woman he assumed was Bobby's mother shouted at his back. She swung around when Zag slammed his way through the door. “Who the hell are you?”

“I'm your worst fucking nightmare, bitch.”

If it was possible, Bobby's druggie mother got paler. But still she tried to hold her ground. “Get out of my house.”

Zag laughed and walked right past her.

“Fine. You take that piece-of-shit kid I used to call a son and get outta my house.” She sat back down on the couch and hunched over the drug paraphernalia on the coffee table. “Worst mistake of my life when I decided to keep the baby and not abort the little bastard.”

Zag punched his fist through the television on his way out of the room.

“You fucking piece of shit,” she shrieked at his back.

Zag tossed her a little wave as he walked down the hall.

When he found Bobby's bedroom he couldn't help but wince. Despite the stack of newspapers and candy wrappers he'd dodged in the hallway—and he didn't even want to think about what was in that mess of a living room that he'd waded through—Bobby's room was pristine. Hell, he could probably eat off the floor.

Bobby would go batshit crazy in Zag's house.

Fuck it.

“So what are we taking?” Zag grabbed a bandana from his back pocket and wrapped it around his bleeding knuckles.

“I thought I told you to wait out front.” Bobby didn't look up as he continued to load clothes into the garbage bag he had on the bed.

“It'll go faster with two of us. So what do you need? I have two extra beds but if you want to keep this one, we'll load her up.”

“Nah. All I need are my clothes and my kitchen knives.”

Zag nodded even though Bobby wasn't looking in his direction. He couldn't hold back the shudder as a roach crawled across his boot. Without hesitation, he ruthlessly kicked the roach into the doorjamb. Damn shame about the huge crack in the wood.

Christ, this place brought back memories—shit he'd rather forget. Just the smell alone would probably give him nightmares for a few days. That mix of sweat, dope, and air freshener had been a brand of his childhood. Fuck, he'd rather be anywhere than here. Wiring would've been better than revisiting this little gem from his past.

“You ready, kid?”

Bobby tied the plastic garbage bag closed and grabbed his knife kit. “Yup.”

“Be sure. Trust me, you don't want to come back here if you can help it.”

“I've got everything.”

“Then let's roll.”

This time when they walked through the living room, Bobby's mom didn't look up from the coffee table. Apparently the sight of her kid walking through the door for the last time wasn't more important than the crack pipe in front of her.

Zag put a hand on Bobby's shoulder. “Don't look back, kid.”

If there was one thing he'd learned about fucked-up parents like theirs, it was that they weren't worth a single ounce of thought. They sure as hell weren't worried about their kids.

And yet the entire drive over to his house, all he could think about was the revulsion on his mother's face when she threw him out of the house that last time. Like he was a streak of dog shit she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. Worthless and disgusting.

Fuck, he hadn't thought of her in years.

Sometimes this altruistic shit was overrated.

J
UNE 10

I pushed the food around my Tupperware with a sigh that was lost in the snores of my boss on the other end of the break room. After five hours on my feet at the front desk of the casino, I should've been starving, but nothing sounded good. What I really could've gone for was a long, tall biker with a side helping of attitude, but I was trying not to think about him.

I didn't even know his name for crying out loud—I mean Zag, really?—and I kinda doubted he remembered mine at this point.

I couldn't deny that it hurt. Apparently I'd been fooling myself last Friday night that he was different—that I was different to him. The connection I'd felt probably hadn't been anything special to him. I mean, he would've stuck around and gotten my number the next morning at the very least. Not left me all alone in his house. I hadn't even warranted a goodbye. The last hopeful romantic corner of my soul curled up and died at the thought.

God, that was depressing. The first notes of my ringtone had me diving for my phone. I hit the “accept” button but didn't hold my cell up to my ear. Instead I tossed a look over my shoulder and slumped with relief at the sight of my boss still asleep on the break-room sofa. The longer he slept, the better my shift was guaranteed to be.

I tiptoed out of the room, then held the phone to my ear and whispered harshly, “Hello?”

“So you are there, princess. What the hell took so long?”

Zag's rough voiced sliced through me and I didn't know what to think. My heart raced with my mind as I tried to find something to say. “Zag?”

“Yeah.”

“I, uh, I don't…I mean, how'd you get my number?”

He laughed and a wave of goose bumps swept over my body. My nipples tightened, brushing against the itchy material of my uniform with my twitchy movements.

“The usual way. I stole it.”

I couldn't help but laugh at his honesty. He wasn't giving me any illusions about who he was. But my excitement at his next question had me questioning my own sanity.

“You busy?”

“No, I mean yes. I mean…” I shook my head at my confusing answer. “Right now yes, but I'm off in a couple of hours and then I'm not.”

Yeah, I really cleared up the confusion with that answer. My head fell against the wall behind me with a soft thunk. I contemplated banging my head a few more times.

“Christ, is everyone working tonight?” Zag whispered almost to himself.

But I heard it still and couldn't help but wonder who “everyone” was. Maybe I wasn't his first choice for a booty call. I didn't know if I should feel jealous or insulted.

The jealous idiot inside me answered before I could stop myself. “Actually, I think someone's coming in early. I'm pretty sure she can cover my shift for me. She owes me—I've done it enough times for her.”

Desperate much? This time I didn't hesitate—I let my head bang into the wall a few more times. Desperate.
Thunk.
Idiot.
Thunk.
Think before speaking.
Thunk.

“I don't want to get you in trouble.”

Because normal people don't drop everything and run off their job just because a gorgeous biker booty calls them. I tried to sound like I wasn't the desperate, horny woman that I was. “Nah, it's okay. She owes me. Give me a sec to call her and I'll call you back.”

I hung up before Zag could talk me out of it. I thumbed through my contact list for my coworker's number. But before I put the call through, I let my head hit the wall a few more times. Maybe it would knock some sense into me.

After dialing Seleste's number, and talking with her, she agreed she could come in early and cover my shift.

Now I just had to find the courage to call Zag back. Nerves filled me. I wanted him. If that night hadn't been a one-off fluke, he could very easily become an addiction. One that I was powerless to resist.

Biting the bullet, I called Zag back before my brain returned from its vacation.

“My coworker will be here in fifteen. Meet me at my place?”

There. I'd managed to claw back some self-respect by taking control of our arrangement. My house. My rules. Easy peasy.

But the silence on the other side of the line had me thinking twice. Why was he hesitating? Why wasn't he saying anything?

“Fine. Text me your address.”

I sat in stunned silence when he hung up. He didn't say anything. He just agreed and hung up. Before I could question my sanity, my fingers flew across my phone's screen and a few seconds later the text was sent.

Which of course is when the doubts started pouring in. Oh my god. What was I doing? Would it have been better to go to his house? Or maybe a neutral place like a hotel? Not this one, of course. I never hooked up at work—with coworkers or guests or anyone—there were plenty of other hotels in Reno. But if I valued my job so much, why was I willing to cut my shift and run off just because a hot guy called? And did I really just text my home address to a scary biker? Someone I hardly knew?

What was wrong with me?

Plenty. But that was probably a question better left for another day. I tiptoed back into the break room and checked on my boss. Sighing with relief at the sight of him still curled up fast asleep on the sofa, I backed out again.

Screw it. In for a penny, in for a pound. I was doing this.

I made my way to the front desk and waited impatiently for Seleste to show up. The whole time all I could think about was how sexy Zag was, the feeling of adrenaline as I held on to him on the back of his bike, that overwhelming sexual tension as he stalked me across his living room, the orgasms…

Dammit, I had to get it under control. Just thinking about last weekend had me teetering on the brink. My sex throbbed heavily and my nipples tightened into hard little points. If anyone looked close enough, it would be hard to hide how ramped up I was.

It was official—there was something wrong with me.

When was the last time I dropped everything and ran just because a guy called? What happened to the sexually confident woman I'd been just a week ago? Maybe I should work through my shift instead of seeing Zag. It wasn't a good idea to be
too
available for a guy, after all.

Ah, who was I kidding? After last weekend and the things he made me feel, I was definitely going.

I only had to wait a few more agonizing minutes before Seleste walked through the doors. I don't think I'd ever been so excited to see her.

“Oh my god, Jess. Are you okay? You look…Do you have a fever?”

Yes. Yes, I do. A sexual fever that only Zag can heal.
I winced at my nervous inner dialogue. Kinda hard to convince someone to work your shift for you if they know you're dropping everything for a booty call.

“I'm not feeling like myself,” I answered honestly, since I couldn't remember another time I was so tied up over a guy.

“Ah, hon. You go home and take care of you.”

I bit back a snort at her word choice. Someone else was going to take care of me tonight. Instead I nodded. “Um, I don't think there's anything to hand over. Jerry's in the break room sleeping, so don't—”

“Wake the beast.” She finished for me. “I got you. Go clock out and get home. You sound like crap.”

I nodded bashfully and quickly clicked through the clock-out application on the computer. I gave Seleste a little wave and headed for the parking garage. I wanted to get the heck out of there before she changed her mind or Jerry woke up and found some reason to keep me from leaving early.

The elevator ride took an eternity, and later the drive to my house was pure torture. The whole way over I bounced back and forth from being impatient to seriously wondering if I was whacked in the head. What was I doing? What was I thinking? Why did I tell him my address? I should've met him somewhere else. Anywhere else. What was my problem?

As I turned into my driveway, my headlights illuminated Zag straddling his bike at the other end of the driveway.

That was my problem.

The man was like a drug in my system and I was an addict.

I don't even remember stopping my car and getting out. All I can remember was that one moment I was staring at a badass biker sitting in my driveway and the next he was all over me. His hands ripping the ugly pantsuit jacket off, his mouth devouring mine. We stumbled to the door, me walking backward with my hands all over his rock-hard chest. But we came to a sudden stop when my back slammed into the door.

I didn't care. I used the door at my back for leverage and arched into him. My leg rose on its own volition and wrapped around the back of his thigh. It gave me the perfect angle to grind against his crotch. The combination of his hardness and the seam of my pants bit into my clit and had me wanting more. More of him, more of this. More sensation to push me over the edge.

I tore my mouth away and whispered harshly, “I want you. Now.”

Zag's hand moved from its tortuous caressing of my breast and dove between my thighs. His thumb found the ridge of my pant seam and ruthlessly ground it into me. “Keys?”

My fog-induced brain couldn't process anything past the urgent need pulsing between my legs. “What?”

“Unless you want to go full frontal with an audience, fork over your keys.”

Audience? I tore my gaze away from his panty-melting stare and noticed the elderly couple from down the street walking their dog. Or at least they had been. Now they were standing on the sidewalk with their mouths open.

Feeling more than a little bit exposed—even though I was still mostly clothed—I stepped away from Zag and ran a shaky hand through my tangled hair. The tasteful bun I'd twisted it into was long gone. What was I doing? Oh God. I really hoped the Averys didn't tell my parents the next time they were over for dinner. I'd never hear the end of it.

I should've moved farther away from home.

“Princess? Keys?”

“What? Oh.” I patted my pockets but came up empty. Looking along the torrid path we'd taken between my car and the front door, I spotted the keys lying on the ground halfway between us and my work jacket. I stepped over and swept both up, hiding behind the curtain of my hair the entire time. Honestly, I wasn't sure who I was hiding from. Zag. The Averys. Myself. I just knew at that exact moment I couldn't meet anyone's eyes.

Instead I took a ridiculous amount of time trying to open the front door. My hand trembled so much I couldn't line up the key with the lock. The combination of adrenaline, sexual tension, and confusion had wound me up so much I was shaking like a coffee addict on her fourth double espresso.

Zag's hand covered mine and slid the key home. With a twist of both of our wrists, the lock clicked but neither of us moved. I held my breath as Zag leaned even farther into me. His jean-covered crotch rubbed against the top of my ass, and I felt the back of my hair flutter with his breath. The dual sensations had my knees turning into jelly. And just that quickly all my doubts and worries fell away. All I could think was that I wanted this—I wanted him.

I pushed the door open, grabbed his hand, and pulled us both through.

The door slammed behind Zag.

He pulled back against my hand, making me turn and fall into him. I gasped and looked up into his golden-brown eyes.

“We all good, princess?”

I nodded mutely.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he muttered before taking my mouth once more.

I closed my eyes and let him. Let him kiss me until I didn't know which way was up. Let him tear the rest of my clothes from my body. The combination of his lips and the sound of my clothes ripping had me trembling anew. And so incredibly turned on.

My pulse pounded in my ears as we stumbled through the living room, him flinging my clothes off my body and me struggling with his belt. No matter how hard I pulled, I couldn't seem to get it off him. It might've had something to do with me being too busy kissing him to look down, but at the time I didn't care. I just wanted the damn thing off his body so I could get to his cock.

Finally Zag pulled away with a barely restrained growl. “Leave it.”

He spun me around to face the couch. I heard the telltale sounds of his belt buckle and zipper being undone, then the rustle and thud as his belted jeans fell to the floor. I tried to turn back to face him but Zag's hand on my arm held me firmly in place then nudged me forward. My shins hit the front of my couch and I stumbled onto it, kneeling on the cushions.

My heart pounded in my chest as he tugged my panties down my thighs. And then he was probing between my legs. At first I thought it was his cock, but as he slid between my folds and darted up to tease my clit, I arched into his teasing hand. He knew just how to touch me. In a matter of seconds he had me so worked up, I was babbling incoherently.

“Oh my god. Oh yes. Please, Zag. Now!”

Instead of giving me what I wanted, his fingers slid down and teased my opening, slowly advancing and retreating but never building to a rhythm I could follow. After a few moments, my orgasm fell away from me. But still his finger slid through my wetness and up again to tease my clit. I tried to grab hold of his hand to keep it there, but his wonderfully dexterous fingers froze.

And then I understood. We were going to play this his way or not at all.

It was the start of an excruciating pattern. He'd build me up to an orgasm, and just when I was poised to go over the edge he'd back away. Again and again, until I was moaning uncontrollably and on the verge of tears.

On my fourth climb up, he surprised me and thrust balls-deep inside me. The sudden invasion stretched my delicate tissue and I broke. I shuddered as my orgasm rolled through my body. My eyes slammed shut and I think I tasted blood.

But he didn't let up for a second. His hips slapped into my behind as he powered through my shudders. I bit my forearm as the friction rolled into one ginormous orgasm.