Scarred Asphalt (10 page)

“Yours? In your wet dreams, bitch. Why the fuck would he
want a two bit, scarred up, bull-dyke-looking muscle head like you, when he
could have a princess like me?”

“You mean the
has-been
you are?” Thorne smirked as
her voice lowered to emphasize her words. “You’re a has-been, Gabrielle, always
have been. That’s why me, the muscle-head bull dyke, kicked your ass out of
office in the Elks Rodeo Queen competition, and that’s why your man is in my
bed nightly and not yours. I don’t know what fantasy world you fucking live in,
but sweetie…” Thorne rested her hand on Gabby’s shoulder, ignoring the girl’s
trembling lips as well as the tears of anger that were welling up in her eyes.
“You need to wake up and join us in the real world. Giving blow jobs in the
back room isn’t a career that’ll last very long, doll. You’re just the flavor
of the week until something better and fresher comes along.”

Thorne could feel Dalton’s eyes on her, but she was not
going to slip up and turn her attention away from the she-bitch. That would be
a fatal mistake. And Thorne couldn’t have been more right.

Gabby lost some brain cells and gave the tell.

It was an easy tell. Thorne saw the fire light in her eyes,
felt her shift in weight under the hand that still lay on Gabby’s shoulder.
Just as Gabby lifted her right hand and pulled back to swing, Thorne was
already moving back.

When Gabrielle’s fist swung forward, Thorne was just back
enough that all she had to do was lean back. The Latina missed her by a mile,
though Thorne thought her ear drums might shatter from the piercing shriek of
acrimony.

As the fist passed by her face, Thorne’s left hand rose up
to clasp her fingers around her wrist. Using Gabrielle’s momentum against her,
Thorne spun her around so the girl’s back was to Thorne’s front. Then she
lifted the girls arm up just enough to put her into an arm-bar. This gave
Thorne the opportunity to hook her arm around the Latina’s throat and latch
onto her other arm, cutting off all air to her lungs.

Thorne growled as she spun the pair around, allowing
Gabrielle to get a good look at Dalton. “Take a good look, you fake piece of
shit. It’ll be your last. Stay the fuck away from him or…” Thorne tightened her
hold on Gabrielle, as she tried to ignore the nails that were clawing at her
forearm. “I will bring my foot so far up in your ass, your grandchildren will
still be tasting leather. I can’t make you quit, but I sure as fuck can make
your life a living hell. And trust me, sweetheart, I’m fucking good at it.”

As Thorne all but tossed the nearly passed out Gabby away
from her like a rag doll, her eyes met the storm filled gaze of Dalton’s. He
was a difficult read, but she swore she saw a hint of approval laying there.

She glanced over her shoulder to the crying Gabrielle, who
had found a spot on the lounge to curl up into a fetal position on. Thorne
rolled her eyes.

“Good Lord, you’d think I actually kicked her ass.” Thorne shook
her head and slipped her arm through Dalton’s, making sure Gabby watched her
every move. “Shall we?”

“After you.” Dalton gave her hand a squeeze and led her out
of the club, both of their heads held high and their steps lighter, a huge
weight having been lifted from their shoulders.

One could hope anyway.

“Be ready in the morning. I’m taking pictures of you.”

Thorne stumbled at his declaration, her brows shot up as she
stopped at the Tahoe, a soft chuckle passed her lips. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I do. I want you to go work out, then showered and in a
bathing suit ready for a shoot on the beach.”

“And you can go fuck yourself, Dalton.” Thorne wasn’t sure
where his caveman attitude was coming from, but there was going to be no
picture taking tomorrow.

“No, I’d prefer you to fuck me, but…” Dalton paused at the
driver side door as she climbed in. “You will be ready by eight in the
morning.”

“Maybe you need more time to think on how you’re telling me,
not asking me to do this. I’ve told you once, and I guess since you’re ears
need a good cleaning, I’ll repeat myself.” Thorne shut the door, allowing the
window to roll down as she started the engine. “Cold day in Hell, Kilpatrick.”

She never let him answer as she put the truck into gear and
rolled off and out of the parking lot, leaving Dalton standing there with a
shocked look on his face. Maybe the long walk home would put the silly notion
of taking her picture right out of his pea-sized brain.

Chapter Thirteen

Pissed didn’t even
begin
to explain how he was
feeling.

Thorne leaving him high and dry like she did? Yeah, totally
sealed her fate. Now she was his to do with how he pleased.

The whole walk home—which took three hours by the way—all he
could think about was getting her in that bikini and taking pictures, after he
punished her.

Her punishment? An ass spanking.

The trip home also gave him time to replay the battle
between Thorne and Gabby. It was hot. No denying that. Fuck, who’d want to? Two
women fighting over you? Couldn’t say that happened every day.

And now, it was doomsday.

As he walked down the hallway to her room, he had to chuckle
to himself. She had no idea what was coming and he was about to get even with
her ass for last night.

Not bothering to knock, Apollo swung open the door and flipped
on the light switch. She had those damn blackout curtains on, allowing her to
sleep any time of the day. It was needed with the hours she had to sometimes
keep.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!” Apollo shouted as he ran and
jumped right up onto the glamorous four-poster bed that Thorne was passed out
on. What made it even better? How she almost flew off the bed when his weight
slammed down on the mattress.

Her scream of surprise just made his day.

“Damn, girl.” Apollo glanced around the room, mostly in shock
at how…regal the room was. It was not exactly what he would have imagined
Thorne liking or having.

The carpet was plush and thick, black in color, the kind
that was soft and made you want to roll around on it and treat it like a bed.
The walls were painted antique in color, almost an off white, which off-set the
crimson of the comforter, sheets and velvet curtains. The furniture was dark
cherry and sturdy.

Her bed said it all though. It was a California King, four
poster, Redwood bed with not your usual posts, but actual carved columns at
each end, the track up top was shaped like ornate ivy with black tulle wrapped
around the wood. Inside the material was a string of crimson and white twinkle
lights that set off the barrage of stars on the ceiling.

He never expected to see Thorne laying in such plush
comfort. He was almost afraid when he came crashing down on the mattress that
she wouldn’t budge.

She did.

“What the hell?” Thorne gasped and yelled in one breath,
sheets clutched to her chest, topaz eyes opened wide in shock.

Apollo burst out laughing, placing his hands behind his head
as he rolled onto his back. “Damn, woman. You’ve been holding out. I may never
move from this bed.”

“The fuck you say.” Thorne snarled. She grabbed a pillow and
swung.

He tried to move, but apparently was not fast enough.

He had pillow for breakfast.

He yanked the pillow away from her, sat up and swung right
back in one swift movement, landing a solid smack right upside her head. “Get
up and go get a shower.”

A surprised yelp was followed by Thorne grabbing another
pillow. She swung, and hit Apollo in the shoulder this time. “Don’t tell me
what to do.”

“Daylight’s a wasting,
chicka
. So,
per favore
,
go get wet for me.” He flashed those pearly whites at Thorne, followed by a
waggle of the brows as he tried to shoo her off the bed.

“I don’t get wet on command.”

“Yeah, okay.” Apollo snorted, his voice openly sarcastic.
“You may want to rethink that statement.”

“I figured your little jaunt home last night might have
given you a change of heart, Dalton. The answer is still no.”

Apollo sighed and tossed the pillow to the head of the bed.
He scooted to the edge of the mattress, pushed off the bed, and turned to face
her. “This is non-negotiable. You’re going to march that sexy ass of yours into
the bathroom and shower. Then you are going to put on the sexiest bikini you
own, do your hair and make-up or whatever it is that you models do, and we’re
going to hit the beach before I lose what little good lighting will be left.”

She sat there before him with the most stubborn set of her
jaw that he had ever seen. Her adorable button nose flared out in anger and her
eyes had taken on an ember hue, proving that she was truly made of fire.

“Ooohhhh…” Apollo acted out a huge shiver fest, his eyes
rolled at the same time. “You so scary, Thorn.” Fake Mexican accent used, he
took a step toward her. “I’m only going to ask you one more time, Thorne.
Please
,
go shower and get ready.”

He was almost pleading with her, trying to be nice before he
took a drastic measure that might get his ass kicked, since he wouldn’t hit a
woman back—well, unless she went for a ball shot. Then all bets were off.

“And just what do you think you’re going to do if I don’t?”
Thorne scoffed, with a comb of her fingers through the thick mane of ebon hair.
“Nothing. That’s what. So just drop it, okay?”

Apollo shook his head making a game-show buzzer sound.
“Wrong answer. The right answer was ‘Sure thing, babe. I’ll get right up and
get all sexified just for you.’”

“In your wet dreams.” Thorne smirked and folded her arms
over her chest, since the sheets had fallen down a while ago during their
pillow fight.

“And you’re about to be in a wet something, alright.”

Before Thorne could question him, Apollo jumped toward her,
scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry. Her
scream of surprise echoed through the room as he marched them into the bathroom
and right for the—holy hell! Fuck calling it a shower. He wasn’t sure what the
fuck to call it. The shower took up one whole wall, which was covered in a
cave-like rock formation. One section of the stall dropped down into an
in-ground tub that looked like a hot spring. At the other end of the stall was
a waterfall that automatically turned on once he stepped past a certain spot on
the floor.

Recovering from the shock that nearly rendered him stupid,
he spotted the water temperature knobs and flipped the hot off and the cold to
full blast.

“You can quit beating the shit out of my back and try not to
kick out; you’ll break the shower glass.” The stall automatically slid open as
he stepped toward it, he swung his hand up—the sound of flesh smacking flesh
rang out in the empty shower.

He never gave her time to react, just tossed her onto the
padded seat under the waterfall. Oh yeah, he jumped back when she screamed in
shock as the water hit her, then he bolted for the bathroom door. “I’ll be on
the porch waiting for you.”

* * * *

He. Was. A. Dead. Man.

Yup, she was already plotting just how she was going to kill
him and get away with it. She knew many ways to get rid of a body, and if she
wanted to make it look like an accident? Not a problem. She knew of herbs that
were undetectable, and she knew how to hide a needle track if she really wanted
to make it look good.

Right under the scrotum.

Most M.E.’s never looked there, but then again, being a
medic, she’d be the number one suspect and they might actually look there.

Damn it.

Back to square one.

The cold water—no correct that—the
freezing
water
almost sent her into hypothermic shock, though her ass was on fire from where
he had planted his large hand. She had not been spanked in years, and the
thought of him doing it again?

She shivered in actual anticipation.

Maybe she needed to be bad more often if getting all but
raped was the punishment? Or the spanking. That could lead to even better
punishment.

“What on God’s green earth are you thinking?” Thorne
muttered to herself as she turned up the hot water before she actually got
frostbite on her nipples.

Dalton was crazy. There was no reason that he needed to take
pictures of her. She hadn’t been in front of a camera in almost a year. She was
scared to. She didn’t want the world to see her battle wounds, to know the hell
she had been through and was still going through.

Thorne wasn’t even completely convinced that she had what it
took to even get back behind the camera again. It was tedious and grueling
holding poses and facial expressions for hours on end. She knew that Dalton
wouldn’t subject her to that, or so she hoped. Maybe an hour’s worth.

Right?

Mentally accepting the fact that she was going to allow him
to do a shoot with her was a milestone toward healing. She knew it, and
personally didn’t want to allow it, but deep down in her heart, she knew it was
a step in the right direction.

She’d never admit it to Dalton, though.

Thorne wrapped a towel around herself, tossed her hair up
into another towel, then began rummaging through the dresser in her large,
walk-in closet. The dresser housed every bikini she had ever done a shoot in,
and several that were given to her as gifts by the designers—a form of free
advertisement for them, having a model wear their clothing out and about.

“Well, poo.” Thorne crinkled up her nose as she searched for
the right bathing suit for today. She padded barefoot over to the sliding glass
doors and threw open the blackout curtains to see what the day was looking
like.

It was bright, with a slight overcast in the sky. The ocean
was clearer than usual, blue-green and foaming as the waves crashed to the
shore. The sand was dark beige, a bit of seaweed covering the ground, but that
was easily moveable.

With her golden coloring and obsidian hair against the
turquoise looking sea, she might want a dusky rose colored suit or a stark
white one. Those two colors would stand out the most against the back drop and
take the attention away from her face.

Thorne meandered back to the dresser and dug around until
she found the one bikini that she knew would work.

Once she got it on and tied off just right, she blow-dried
her hair into the soft curls that came naturally. With makeup applied, she
squared off with the full-length mirror that lay hidden behind the door of her
bathroom.

Her breath left her as she stared at herself in the mirror.
It was not what she was expecting. Her golden eyes, softened by rose and gold
eye-shadow, were made more cat-like with the black eyeliner that was layered
with a gold-toned one. Lip gloss tinted with pink graced her full lips, not
wanting to make them loud or too pronounced.

The scar on her face was expertly hidden by the way her hair
fell. She couldn’t have asked for more.

It was the bikini that did it, though. It was stark white
with fringes over the breasts that faded into a light rose color. The cups had
a light underwire and enough padding to be a pushup bra, giving her ample
cleavage to show off.

The bottoms were tied off at each hip, emphasizing her
curves, and faded, as well, into the light rose color at the groin, giving just
enough color to wonder if it was a mood changing based bikini.

She hooked an anklet around her leg, a simple piece of
jewelry that accentuated the slim lines and added a touch of class to the suit.

Nodding to herself in the mirror, she took in a sharp breath
then quickly released it. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

* * * *

When she stepped out of the house and onto the porch, Apollo
nearly dropped his mug of coffee.

“Whoah,” was the only word that he could muster at the
moment. She had struck his ass dumb.

He knew his mouth was hanging open and he was standing there
like a teenager trying not to explode in his pants while looking at his first
porno mag, but hot damn. She was the epitome of sheer perfection. He didn’t see
the scars; he saw the shy female rocking back on her heels, trying not to
fidget as he all but drooled over her. He saw the beauty of her blush and the
way she ducked her head to hide from his scrutiny and the fact that she was
slightly embarrassed.

“I can change. I just thought—”

“Fuck me, doll. Nuhuh. No changing.” He set his mug down on
the wooden railing and reached out to take her trembling hand. “Please, you’re
perfect. I was not expecting you to be so…” Apollo shrugged, not knowing a
classier way to say it. “Fucking hot. You gave me an instant hard on, Thorne.
That says a lot.”

“Really?” Thorne’s voice cracked, her blush deepening by his
crude way of saying she looked good.

“I’m not going to apologize for telling you that you turn me
on, Thorne. And for God’s sake, don’t be embarrassed by it. You are gorgeous,
Espina Lopez. You are my beautiful disaster.”

And she was just that. She ran hot and cold, never warm. She
was made of fire, but she could melt at his touch. She was an angel, but at the
same time, she had the devilish side that came out at the drop of a hat.

He closed the space between them, slightly hesitant as he
lifted his hand to brush the hair from her face. With a gentle caress, he ran
the back of his knuckles down her cheek, avoiding the scar as not to startle or
scare her.

Apollo watched her facial expression change under his touch,
the way her eyes softened and how she leaned ever so slight into his touch. He
could see the craving of wanting to be touched underlying the hesitation in her
breath. This was a woman who needed special care, and he was going to be the
one who was going to give it to her. Whether she liked it or not.

He had a feeling they were going to learn from one another
on how to trust, how to live again, how to be best friends, and whatever else
came up. His man brain wasn’t up to the task of thinking about that sort of
subject matter at the moment, considering that most of his blood had rushed to
the other head for the time being.

He had to stop before he took advantage of her again. Apollo
had wanted her from the first moment he laid eyes on her. She was a fresh
medic, training under Saber. His brother had brought her to the diner for
dinner, and he knew right then that one day he would have her. But he was with
Gabby at that time and he wasn’t one to stick his dick in places it didn’t belong
when he was with someone. Now though? All bets were off.