Ruthless (7 page)

J
UNE 20

Over a week later and he was still all I could think about. It didn't help that he kept texting me.

Okay, so he'd only texted me twice in ten days. The first time I'd been busy with family stuff at my parents' house, so it was easy to say no, but now…

Now I stood in the break room at work. I'd been putting my stuff together and getting ready to leave—which didn't help my libido at all. The last time I'd been in a similar position we'd ended up having wild and crazy sex in my living room and almost on the driveway in full view of the neighbors. How could a girl say no to a repeat of that?

I stared down at my cellphone screen.

Zag:
You busy?

Honestly, I didn't know how to reply. Was I busy? It was a loaded question. I was supposed to call Nicole and Emily when I got home. We had a loose agreement for dinner and a movie, maybe. So it wasn't like I had firm plans. And Zag was…so sexy. Nicole and Emily? Not so much.

God, I was weak.

I was walking that line of being too available and him losing interest in contacting me again. Who was I kidding? I was so available.

I quickly texted back:
Nothing set in stone
.

While I waited for Zag's reply, I quietly gathered my stuff from my locker and tiptoed out of the room. It might have been the end of my shift, but I didn't want to rock the boat for my coworkers and wake up Jerry. How someone could sleep so much and not get dinged for it by their supervisor was beyond me. One of the perks of being in charge, apparently.

The entire walk across the casino floor, I tried not to stare at my cell. I was, however, silently wishing for it to ping again. My nerve endings danced with excitement at the thought of seeing Zag.

As I stepped into the elevator, my phone pinged.

Zag:
Want another ride on my bike?

My thighs immediately clenched at the thought. Sitting with his lean hips clasped between my thighs and his bike vibrating underneath us? Yes, please.

I had to wait until the elevator stopped to text him back. Otherwise I'd miss my floor and would be riding the elevator for several floors before I realized where I was again.

When I stepped off the elevator, I had to suppress the urge to run. I wanted to get into my car, lock the doors, and text him back. What? I was paranoid in parking garages.

But the sound of a motorcycle had me freezing in my tracks. The elevator closed with a whoosh of air behind me as I turned to my right and saw the back of a big guy in a leather vest at the other end of the parking level. He was standing next to a bike as two other guys rode up next to him.

Was that…could it be Zag? Was this his idea of a sweet surprise? Was he going to introduce me to some of his friends? Oh God, what if he wanted me to
play
with some of his friends, too? Wasn't that something bikers were into? It was the norm if movies and
Penthouse Forum
letters were to be believed.

My heart raced as I cautiously walked across the pavement. Regardless of who it really was, I had to go that way—my car was parked on the aisle near them.

I kept a hesitant pace with my eyes mostly on the ground. But when I spied the logo on the back of one guy's vest, I relaxed slightly. He was a True Brother. Which meant he was either Zag or one of his friends, so I was okay.

And yet my heart didn't let up on its frenetic pace.

“Zag?” My thready voice echoed loudly in the parking garage.

I wasn't exactly close, but I saw a flash of something white in a Baggie before the guy in the True Brothers vest swung around. Oh my god, were those drugs?

And I found myself staring into the face of a total stranger. He might've had long hair like Zag, but his was stringy; he had to be fifteen years older, and his vest badge said “Preacher.”

I immediately raised my hands, my cellphone still clutched in my left. “My mistake.”

I then beat a hasty retreat. His name might've been Preacher but he sure as hell wasn't doing anything godlike in the parking garage. I flew the twenty feet to my car even as I heard the distinct sound of booted footsteps following me. But it was hard to hear anything over the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. My right hand dug frantically into my pocket, searching for my keys as my mom's lecture played in my mind.

“Always have your keys in your hand when you go to your car. Clench them in your hand and lace the keys through your fingers so the pointy ends are poking out. That way if anyone approaches you, you have a weapon at the ready. I saw it on
Oprah.
”

I really wished I'd listened to her. The second the car door was open, I dove inside and locked it behind me. I tossed my purse and phone onto the passenger seat and turned the engine over. I didn't reach for a seat belt, just shoved the car into reverse and I was gone. Even though I was in my car, I still heard the boot tread behind me from just seconds ago. Whoever that True Brother was, he didn't look happy and he'd been just feet from me.

This time a ticked-off biker didn't fill me with happy, horny feelings. I was scared shitless and trembled the entire drive back to my house.

Once I pulled up to my house, I grabbed my stuff and bolted for the front door. My hand shook as I tried to get the key inside the lock. It took me three tries before it finally slid in. Of course, I didn't have a sexy biker to help me out this time.

I dashed through the opened door and slammed it shut behind me. And double-locked it. I debated for a second whether I should push my entertainment center in front of the door, but I didn't think my knees would stop shaking enough for me to try.

Collapsing on the couch, I held my head in my hands and concentrated on breathing. In. And out. In. And out.

Shit, shit, shit. What did I get myself involved in? They were drug dealers! And not the happy hippie kind of druggie bikers. Anything white and powdery in a Baggie had to be big-time trouble. Shit, shit, shit.

My mind kept replaying the parking lot scene over and over. The big True Brother closest to me with his wild hair and mean eyes. The badge on his vest might've said Preacher, but he did not act like a choir boy. And the way he started to come at me…Fuck.

That was it. I was done with bad boy bikers.

I just wanted to curl up into a ball and forget this horrible day ever happened. But I had to wait until my Jell-O-y legs could hold me up again.

My phone pinged again.

I knew without even looking who was texting me again. I never did reply to Zag's invite. And I couldn't make my buzzing mind come up with anything to say beyond “Hell no.” The last thing I wanted was him coming over here to find out why not.

Shit, shit, shit.

I picked up my phone and ignored the blinking text. Instead my fingers flew across the screen until Nicole's name came up on the contact list and I dialed.

She picked up on the fifth ring. “Hey, Jess. We still on for tonight?”

The sound of her cheerful voice when I was practically falling apart was ridiculous to me. I bit back my hysterical laughter as I struggled to find something to say.

“Jess? You there?”

My breath hitched. “Yeah, sorry. I'm here.”

“What's going on? You sound weird.”

“I…uh, I don't even know how to tell you. Can you come over?”

“Yeah. Sure. I'll be right there.”

I ended the call without saying goodbye. I tried to shake off my mood by doing what I normally do after work—getting something to eat and changing. But nothing looked good in the fridge and my blouse ripped when I tried to change. Apparently my name tag was pinned through my jacket to my blouse underneath. Shit. That was thirty bucks down the drain. I'd have to buy another work-approved blouse.

Work. Shit. I should've reported what I saw in the parking lot. My job might very well depend on it. People had been fired for a hell of a lot less.

But if I called my boss and Preacher got caught, who would he come after? The chick in the Mother Lode uniform with her name tag all out there for everyone to see? Shit. He probably knew my name and where I worked. It wouldn't take much to find out where I lived. All he had to do was ask his buddy Zag. Whose name I said in the parking lot.

My skin broke out in cold sweats. I was so screwed.

But someone pounding on my door jerked me from my pity spiral.

I approached the door cautiously. Like it might jump at me. Shaking my head at my foolish thoughts, I looked through the peephole. But only after I searched and found Nicole staring back at the door did I reach for the locks.

I pulled open the door and reached for her.

“Hey, what's—ack!” She broke off as I hauled her into the house.

Then I heard the telltale rumble of a motorcycle engine. All the blood left my head, leaving me feeling woozy. I swayed into the doorjamb, and this time it was Nicole who gripped my shirt and pulled me into the house.

“What is going on?”

But I couldn't answer her. All I could do was stare at the motorcycle pulling into the driveway. My mind raced. Was it Preacher? Did he figure out where I lived?

I sagged when the rider took his helmet off and revealed the familiar and oh-so-sexy features of Zag. Until I remembered. The drugs. Preacher's threatening glare. Him chasing me in the parking garage.

With newfound resolve, I whirled around and slammed the door behind me.

Nicole stared at me with huge eyes. “What the hell is going on?”

I didn't have time to answer her. The door behind me vibrated with Zag's pounding fist. I spun back around and twisted the deadbolt home. The lock's click was loud in the sudden silence. And telling.

“What the hell, princess?” Even though he wasn't yelling, I could hear him through the door all the same.

“Jess?”

I turned back to Nic. “They deal drugs. I saw one of his buddies in the parking garage of the Mother Lode. I had no idea.”

Nicole sighed. “I got this.”

Before I had time to ask her what she meant by that, Nic shoved me aside and opened the door.

“Nic, no.”

“Listen up. Jessica doesn't want anything to do with you. She's done. You forget where she lives or the fact that you two even met. We clear?”

“What? Who the hell are you? Jess? Come out here!”

I closed my eyes and sighed. If she'd left the door closed, we could've waited him out. I really doubted that he would've bashed the door down.

Which made my closing it on him all the sillier.

Knowing I'd have to face him eventually, I grabbed the doorknob and opened the door wider so he could see me hiding behind it.

“You know I don't have time for this shit. I don't play games. You wanna see me, you know my number.” Zag's disgust was plain to see. So was his impatience.

As he turned to leave, I shouted at his back. “I'm done.”

He just lifted one hand and fluttered his fingers.

Like I wasn't a loss at all. The bastard.

I felt about three inches tall. Small, because I thought we had something, while he couldn't care less. I had to make him see that I was better than him. And not the other way around.

“I don't do drug dealers!”

Zag dropped his hand and froze. After a second he spun around and pinned me with the scariest expression I'd ever seen him use. “Come again?”

I didn't waver. “I don't do drug dealers.”

“That's convenient because I don't deal.”

“Whatever. I saw your buddy in the parking garage today.”

“Who?”

I flinched at the bite in his tone, but he didn't come closer so my bravado held me up. “One of your True Brother buddies. Preacher? He was at the Mother Lode with two other bikers with little white bags and bundles of cash. So don't try to bullshit me.”

Zag came at me. I flinched but he didn't stop until his toes touched mine. “Who were the other two bikers? Did you see their tags? Or their vests?”

“What? No.” I shook as his nearness affected me. That wonderful musk that I'd associate with Zag probably forever. Leather, man, and mint. Dammit, why did he have to smell so good?

He cupped my chin in his hand and tilted my face up to his. “This is important, princess. Did you see who the other men were?”

I looked into his golden-brown eyes and despite my resolve, I melted a little. “They were bikers like Preacher. No, wait.” A nagging memory had me hesitating. “Their vests were different from yours. The back said…Saddletramps?”

Zag's expression became hard, his eyes going blank and his mouth tightening into a scary biker scowl. My heart stuttered in my chest. He really was one of
them
. I'd been kidding myself all along. I wrenched back and took a few steps. Away from Zag and his magnetic pull.

“Like I said: drug dealers. So I'm done. With you and with this.” I waved my hand in his general direction.

“Oh, we're not done, princess. Not by a long shot.” Without waiting for my reply, Zag turned and walked back to his bike. A few seconds later, the air vibrated with his bike's engine.

And then he was gone.

I stared at the end of the street, the last place I saw him before he turned the corner. How were we not done? I said we were over, so we were. He didn't get a vote. Or a chance to change my mind. What the hell?

“Okay, I get it now.”

“What?” I turned around and found Nicole standing behind me, also looking down the street where Zag disappeared.

“The biker thing. He's hot.”

Where was my judgmental friend from a few weeks ago? “But his club deals drugs, Nic. Remember?”

“Yes. Right. I'm not saying I think you should see him again. I'm just saying that I get it.”

I shook my head and walked back toward the house. “What did you think he was like?”

“You know, one of those three-hundred-pound guys with the do-rag and long goatee. Or an old guy with the handlebar mustache.”