Ruthless (9 page)

“Zag. Office. Now.”

He should've known. There was no way Reb was gonna let his bombshell surprise go without at least a lecture. If he was lucky. Zag took one last look at Bump—not that Bump noticed anyone—and followed Reb into his office.

Although calling it an office was generous. It was Reb's sanctuary in the clubhouse as president. Zag stepped through the doorway and ignored the two worn club chairs in the corner and headed toward the minifridge instead. He took out two beers and tossed one Reb's way before he plopped onto the worn leather sofa like he owned the place. Hell, it'd been his second home for ten years, so it kind of felt like his anyhow.

“What's up?” Zag asked, like he didn't know what was going on.

Reb slammed the door behind him and cracked open his beer. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“About…”

“This goddamn Jessa, Jessica hick, whatever the fuck her name is?”

“Hold up.” Zag sprang off the sofa and stepped toward Reb. Although he'd never quite top Reb in height, he used every inch to intimidate. “Jessica is my old lady. I won't let anyone—even you—throw shade her way. You got a problem with Jess, you got a problem with me.”

“Shit, that wasn't what I was saying, boy. I-I-I—” He ran a hand over his buzzed head before he walked over the club chairs and collapsed in one. “You're too fucking young to tie up with a woman.”

Zag shook his head, then followed Reb's lead, taking the remaining chair. “I'm thirty-six. Since when is that young?”

“Fuck, man. You've seen me and Rhonda. We fight like cats and dogs. Used to make up the same way, but those days are long over. Ain't no such thing as happily ever after.”

“That's good 'cause I wasn't looking for it. You don't know Jessica. She's too good for me. But it's my fault she's wrapped up in this bullshit with Preacher. She never would've approached a biker in a parking lot if we weren't together. I gotta protect her. And I need the club behind me to do it.”

“I just…I can't help but think of you like a son. I took you in as a snot-nosed teenager. I gotta keep an eye on you. Fuck knows the kinda trouble you used to get into.”

Zag laughed. “Yeah, well, I'm a little old to get into a bar fight over some chick I don't know because she's got a set of amazing tits. These days I'm a little more selective.”

Reb paused and took a long gulp of beer. “Too good for you, huh? I think I'm gonna need to meet this Jessica. You're bringing her to the Fourth of July bash.”

Zag jerked his head in a tight nod. Not that he had a choice. Reb phrased it more like an order than a request. That gave him two weeks to get back into Jessica's good graces.

If she let him.

But he had to protect her. It was his fucking fault she was in this whole shitty situation. He'd brought her into his world—tainted her. Now he had to make sure she'd get out of it in one piece.

Because if he knew Preacher, that fucker wasn't going to let this rest without causing one hell of a dustup. And Jessica was right in the middle of it all.

J
UNE 27

I hated Fridays. Fridays particularly sucked, since they were the main check-in days, which meant tons of customers. Tonight's check-in line snaked through the entire lobby with no end in sight. I had another long night ahead of me. So I had to keep my cheerful smile in place when I was feeling anything but. The combination of the musical chimes of slot machines and the roar of dozens of guests chattering wasn't helping my headache any. I blamed the fancy domed ceiling. It might've looked awesome, with its intricately carved and gilded finishings, but it only made the acoustics horrendous with so many guests yammering about.

Of course, my attitude had nothing to do with it.

The past week had been an exercise of endurance. First there was the call to my boss and the subsequent interview with the police. Apparently the camera on that level of the parking garage had been out for a few weeks. Somehow Preacher had known that and had taken advantage of the convenient meeting place. Sounded like there was a good chance I'd have to testify if it came to trial. Yippee.

Then there was the embarrassing task of admitting my involvement with a member of the True Brothers MC. I could still see the judgmental looks on the officers' faces. They'd been so sure I wouldn't testify, like a few romps in the hay with Zag had somehow altered my sense of right and wrong.

Zag. His name still hit me with a pang. How could I have been so stupid? I'd been hoping that maybe our bedroom antics could lead into something more. Was starting to wonder what made that enigmatic man tick. Well, now I knew. A shit ton of drugs and the money that came with it. I'd been so stupid.

I masked my morose internal thoughts with a fake smile for the departing guest and lifted my hand at whoever was next in line. Just two more hours until the end of the shift. Then it was a pile of Ben & Jerry's and whatever depressing movie Lifetime was broadcasting tonight.

“Welcome to the Mother Lode. Checking in?”

I went through my job on autopilot, like I had the whole week, fake smile firmly in place. Even Nicole and Emily couldn't drag me out of it. And Lord knows they'd tried. Movies, chocolate, and fruity cocktails hadn't been able to brighten up my mood. I tried to tell them I just needed a few days to work myself out of my funk. Not that they'd listened. But then that was what I loved about my friends. They had my back no matter what.

Of course, it didn't help that I felt like I was being watched. I couldn't really put my finger on why, but I kept getting that weird tingle. Not that I ever saw anyone suspicious. Zag had been by my place twice, but when I didn't open my door for him he'd given up. So obviously there hadn't been anything between us after all. Like Nicole said, good riddance.

“Enjoy your stay.” I lifted my hand again. “Next in line.”

I tapped at my computer screen to exit out of the last customer's account as I addressed the next customer. “Welcome to the Mother Lode. Checking in?”

A low drawl answered me. “Yes, I am.”

What was it about Zag? Even now I was projecting his voice onto some random customer. Obviously I had a problem. “Guest name?”

I looked up to smile at my guest, but I was too busy picking my jaw off the floor. Zag. It really was him.

“George Cooper. But my friends call me Zag.”

“I-I-I…What the hell are you doing here?”

Seleste was running the desk next to me and I could see her out of the corner of my eye craning her neck to find out what was going on at my station. Shit, the last thing I needed was a scene. I was already on thin ice with my boss for not reporting the drug deal straight away.

This time I kept my voice low. “Go away or I'll call security.”

“Is there a problem, princess? I thought you couldn't turn me away since I'm a paying guest and everything. Or do I need to go talk to someone else?”

I glared at him. “George Cooper, you said?”

“Yes.”

I tapped away at my keyboard. I had a hard time believing he was a paying guest, but I wanted to be sure before I called security over and made a scene. My jaw dropped when I saw the room George Cooper had booked—a suite in the tower with a Jacuzzi tub and a separate sitting room.

I guess he really was a drug dealer. How else could a mechanic afford one of our best rooms? The tiny sliver that held out hope died inside me.

I set my jaw and tapped away on my computer. “Staying for one night?”

“Yes. Is that all you have to say to me, princess?”

“How are you paying for the room?”

“With two months of overtime.” Zag slid a credit card across the desk.

“I'm sure your friend Preacher will help you find some easy money.”

“Preacher's been kicked out of the club.”

I froze. Kicked out? But then that would mean…“Really?”

“Yes, he's out. We need to talk, you and me. When are you off?”

I ran his credit card, then set up his room keycard and tucked it into an envelope. “You're in room 2532 and it's against corporate policy to fraternize with guests. I hope you'll enjoy your stay, Mr. Cooper.”

Zag's eyes hardened. “Don't give me the company line. Me and you have to sort our shit out. I expect to see you in my room when you're done. Which is when again?”

“Two hours,” I answered before my brain kicked in. Dammit.

“See you then. And sweetheart, you better show. You don't want me to have to come find you.” And with that he turned and walked away. His booted feet sounded overly loud in the hectic lobby.

Or maybe that was my imagination.

I took a deep breath and cleared out my computer. Honestly, I didn't know what to think. Were they really not into drugs? Had I been too quick to judge? Or was Zag just trying to save face? But then why would he want to see me? I was sure he had plenty of women on the back burner. The guy practically oozed sex appeal. I didn't know what to think. Or do.

Crap.

Seleste touched my shoulder. “You okay?”

I heaved a sigh and ignored the obvious. “Just another hectic Friday.”

“Tell me about it. At least you only have a few hours until you're off shift. I still have five more to go.”

I raised my hand and beckoned the next guest over. “Yup, lucky me.”

Two hours later, I paced the break room as I tried to figure out what I was going to do. It was crazy to just go up to his room, right? And it wasn't like I owed him anything per se. Although we were kinda sorta seeing each other when things went sideways.

Ugh! I couldn't make up my mind. To be honest, I did feel like I owed him. I'd jumped to a conclusion that was starting to look like maybe it hadn't been right.

I grabbed my gym bag out of my locker and changed into yoga pants and a matching T-shirt, then stowed my uniform in the gym bag. I didn't want to appear on anyone's radar as an employee, plus I was hoping my gym clothes would act like armor. They didn't exactly spell sexy. If only they were sweaty, too—then they'd remind me to keep my distance. Too bad I'd been lazy this afternoon and skipped yoga.

I shut my locker, then made my way through the hallway and out onto the casino floor. I waved a goodbye to Seleste, who was four guests deep at the front desk and didn't notice. The chimes and lyrical bells of the slot machines didn't beckon me—this town wasn't built on winners regardless of the people cheering in delight. Besides, I was a woman on a mission.

After an endless trek and a long elevator ride, I stood in front of Zag's hotel door. I lifted my hand to knock, but then hesitated. Did I really want to do this? Screw it. I needed answers.

So I knocked.

And didn't have to wait long. About three seconds later, the door opened and Zag pulled me through. The door closed behind me, and before I had a chance to look around or think of something to say, Zag took me into his arms and my lips with his. My gym bag fell to the ground when I wrapped my arms around him. Suddenly everything else disappeared: the drugs, the drama, all of it. It was just me and him and that amazing thing he did with his tongue.

But way too soon he pulled away and I moaned softly at the loss.

Until I remembered why I was there.

“Right.” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “So you wanted to talk?”

Zag laughed. “Yeah, come on. I've got a separate sitting area over here.”

I followed docilely behind him and tried to get my jumbled brain cells back into some semblance of order. I had to keep it together—and not let that man anywhere near me. Instead, I looked around the suite. I'd never been inside one before and, from the looks of things, I doubted I'd ever be in another one again. Holy crap, this place was insane—class from the über-soft carpet to the gilded crown molding. Did he do this for me? The space was so beautiful it kind of made me feel guilty that I hadn't listened to his side of things. And a tinge angry that he thought this would get my attention—mostly because it had.

Just barely able to keep my jaw from hitting the floor, I ignored the blatant look he gave me from the sofa and walked over to sit in a chair facing him. “So you said Preacher has been kicked out of the gang?”

Zag's eyes hardened. “Club. We're not a gang.”

I immediately backpedaled. “Of course. Sorry. Club. I meant club.”

“I shouldn't be telling you any of this, as it's club business. But the way I figure it, you're neck deep in some serious shit, so you deserve to know.”

Serious shit? I couldn't hide my flinch. Hearing Zag of all people say that made me more than a little bit scared.

“Preacher's out. We don't put up with that kinda bullshit. We don't deal and we sure as hell don't hang out with the Truckee Saddletramps.”

“Wait, so his worst offense was that he was with another gang—I mean club? How's that worse than dealing?”

“Tramps are our enemy.” Zag bit the words out, his forehead creased in a scowl. “There's been bad blood between the clubs for years. They killed two of our brothers. We don't forget shit like that.”

I nodded. Definitely not forgivable, and I had the feeling these guys had long memories. “So that's what has you worried? The Saddletramps will come after me?”

“Those punk-ass Tramps are the least of your problems. It's Preacher. You saw him in the parking lot. You gave a statement to the authorities. He's hard-core and fucked up from all the drugs he's on. He's gonna want to make sure you don't testify when this comes to trial.”

I started to shake. “He wants to kill me?”

Zag swore under his breath, then stood and pulled me into his arms. He sat on the couch again with me in his lap and his arms around me. “Not gonna happen, princess. I'm not gonna let that asshole within spitting distance of you. And also not what I meant. If I know Preacher—which granted he's changed a fuck ton since back in the day—I think he's gonna try and intimidate you into not testifying. Scare you.”

I snuggled into Zag's arms and was reassured by the thudding of his heartbeat under my cheek. “Well you can tell him job done. I'm pretty fucking scared already.”

“So you're not gonna testify?”

“And let him win?” I sat up and looked at Zag in disbelief. “So he can be out there selling drugs again? Hell no.”

“That's my girl.”

I couldn't help but warm with his words as I snuggled back into his embrace. Somehow with his arms around me, nothing seemed insurmountable. I kicked myself for jumping to conclusions. This was the man I knew. The man who saved me in the parking lot. The man who made me scream in orgasm what felt like so long ago.

So very long ago.

“I—uh, guess I owe you an apology…for assuming you were a drug dealer, too.”

“Ah, baby, you don't owe me nothing. I get why you jumped to that conclusion. We're—” He broke off as I slithered down his lap and knelt on the floor between his splayed legs. A huge grin spread across his face. “But if you're feeling generous…”

I reached up for his button fly and unsnapped it with a studied deliberateness. “Oh, I am. I'm feeling very generous.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Zag reached up and brushed a stray hair off my cheek.

Just that simple gesture almost undid me. Or maybe it was the sweet warmth in his expression. How could I ever have doubted this lovely man? Wanting him to know just how sorry I was, I returned to my task with a renewed purpose. I peeled back his fly and dove through the opening in his boxers until my searching fingers found the prize I'd been looking for.

I pulled his large, pulsing cock out of his jeans and wrapped my hand around his length. Immediately I felt an answering tingle between my legs. I swayed closer and ran my tongue around the head, lapping up that small amount of salty goodness.

Zag groaned and buried his hands into my hair on either side of my head. But he just held my hair back for me. He didn't try to control my motions.

To reward him for that bit of self-control, I leaned forward and slowly took as much of his length as I could inside my mouth. Then I just as slowly pulled back. When I had only the tip in my mouth, I flicked my tongue lightly against that sensitive spot just below the head.

Zag's whole body jerked, and I had to move clear so I wouldn't scrape his sensitive skin with my teeth. But before he could say anything or try to guide me, I dove back in. Holding his cock with my right hand just below the head, I wrapped my lips around the top and slowly slid down as far as I could, my lips chasing my fist. Then I backtracked, making sure to squeeze him with my hand the whole way.

I set up a pace and continued to caress him with my hand and mouth. By the fourth stroke, Zag groaned and dug his hand deeper into my hair. By the tenth, he started to move his hips toward me, silently urging me on with his body. After that I lost count. I just kept going.