Shooting Dirty (22 page)

He gave her what she needed, driving his cock inside her. She wasn’t dripping-wet like she’d been before, just barely slick. She gasped and gripped the edge of the dresser, bracing herself for a hard ride, but her head bumped against the mirror anyway. He cursed and lifted her up. Stumbling backward, he sat down on the mattress with her on his lap, his cock still buried deep inside her.

He liked what he saw in the mirror. His hands on her ass, spreading her cheeks. The belt around her torso. Her pussy wedged around his cock.

Even so, he switched positions and rolled on top of her. He needed to dominate her completely, to show her who she belonged to. Although her body wasn’t ready for a fierce pounding, that’s what he gave her. He wanted her to feel it afterward. This wasn’t the time for a sweet, gentle fuck.

He pushed up her knees and she held them for him. Then he knelt between her thighs and gripped her hips, jerking her back and forth on his cock. He worked her hot little cunt, using her roughly. Her tits jiggled from the impact and her face contorted in pleasure.

Yes. She liked this. She liked his big, hard cock, filling her up.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“Ace.”

“Again,” he said, thrusting deep.

She repeated his name, moaning. He panted some more dirty things about owning her pussy and cramming her with cock. He didn’t know what he was saying. He just fucked her into the mattress and rushed to a mind-blowing finish.

She didn’t come, because he was being crude and selfish. He pulled out with a strangled groan, spurting come all over her pussy. Then he painted her tits. If he could have filled her mouth too, he would have.

He closed his eyes, sweaty and spent. When he’d recovered his breath, he let go of his cock and studied her. She was quivering with need, her nipples hard. He pinched both, enjoying the sight of his come on her flushed skin. Then he focused his attention on her pussy, where she was really messy. He massaged his come into her smooth, bare lips. She jerked when he touched the swollen nub of her clit.

She probably felt raw from the inside out. Sensing that a soft touch wouldn’t finish her, he plunged two fingers deep into her pussy, where she was slick and hot. He stroked her inner walls and thumbed her clit, applying firm pressure. Her stomach quivered and her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her arms bound by the belt.

When she spread her thighs wider, straining toward orgasm, he ground his thumb into her clit. She exploded with a sharp cry, screaming his name. Her hips bucked off the mattress and her greedy pussy milked his fingers.

He withdrew after her convulsions gentled, unfastening his belt. Instead of getting another towel, he left her warm and slippery with a mixture of fluids. Her hair was tangled, her forehead damp.

She’d never looked more beautiful.

He put his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her temple. “If I could stay, I would. Nothing would keep me from you.”

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, adding to her disarray.

He’d kill for her. He’d go to prison to protect her. He’d staked his claim on her body, but he couldn’t tell her he loved her. Declaring his feelings would only cause her more pain, and make it harder for her to move on after he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Janelle got ready to leave, her heart heavy.

She needed to see her son and hold him close, to make sure he was okay. His safety was more important to her than ever. He was all she had. Losing Ace would be hard, but she’d get over it.

She couldn’t survive without Jamie. She’d rather die.

She didn’t know how Ace would manage in prison. He couldn’t maintain a strong relationship with his daughter from behind bars. Although his decision had begun to sink in, Janelle was still devastated by it. Going legit was the last thing she’d expected from him. Going on a rampage seemed more his style.

The second option was no better than the first, of course. She didn’t want Ace to die. She just wanted him to
stay
.

He arranged for one of his biker buddies to pick up her car at the trailer park. She waited outside with Ace, chain-smoking. He looked fucking sexy in his wrinkled T-shirt and worn jeans, tattoos flashing on his muscular arms, the leather belt he’d tamed her with around his lean waist. He was a hard-edged James Dean, a desert rat with weathered skin and ghost eyes.

And she loved him so much, it hurt.

She should have known better than to fall for another criminal. Shane seemed small-time in comparison, and Shane had been a convicted murderer. The love she’d felt for Shane didn’t compare, either. She was so far gone for Ace, she’d never come back.

He’d never come back.

She sensed a willingness to die in him. He was convinced that turning himself in was his only chance at redemption, and he was ready to pay any price. He could walk away holding his head high, knowing he’d tried to do the right thing—for his daughter.

Janelle couldn’t feel good about his choice, even if she understood it. She didn’t like martyrs and ultimate sacrifices. She didn’t trust the law. He might get killed by Jester’s allies in prison, and how was that noble?

Instead of voicing this fear, she smoked and stayed silent. His friends arrived, two on motorcycles and another driving her car.

“Where are you going?” she asked, stubbing out her cigarette.

“To say goodbye to Skye.”

She searched his eyes and saw nothing. He’d put his game face on, and it was impenetrable. “I guess this is it.”

He leaned in, touching his lips to her cheek. The gesture was polite and impartial, as if he had no feelings for her. As if he hadn’t used her body like his personal playground and practically demanded that she worship his cock. She fought the urge to sink her fist into his stomach. Instead she staggered him with the last weapon she had.

“I love you,” she said.

He straightened abruptly. She imagined the twist of her phantom blade, sharp and triumphant. He stared at her for a long moment, and his eyes weren’t flat or emotionless now. They blazed with something she couldn’t identify. Pain, perhaps.

“I love you, too.”

Janelle’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“I love you,” he said, seeming irritated by the complication. But brutally honest, as always.

“You can’t love me. You hardly even have a heartbeat.”

He smiled in wry agreement. “Somehow I managed to fall for you anyway.”

She glanced at the men in the parking lot, who were waiting for them to finish their conversation. This was un-fucking-believable. She shouldn’t have confessed her feelings. She’d wanted him to know what he meant to her, and how much he was giving up. Her attempt to leave him shaken had backfired.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“I know.”

“I’ll get over you.”

“Yes, you will. You’re a cycle-breaker, just like I said.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m a realist.”

Her eyes flooded with tears, because she wasn’t a cycle-breaker. She wasn’t. She’d fallen in love with another criminal who’d used her up and left her in shattered pieces.

“You’re better off without me,” he said, grasping her upper arms. “But if I had my choice, I’d never let you go. I’d hunt down my enemies and bleed the entire desert for you, and no one would ever come between us.”

She wrenched her arms from his grasp and walked away, defiant. A man with a full beard and a Dirty Eleven vest was standing by her car. He gave her a look that said he’d be ribbing Ace about her chilly departure. She accepted her keys from Ace’s friend and got inside. Someone had filled up her gas tank. Her purse was in the passenger seat. She started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, fighting tears.

Damn him. Damn
her
, for falling for him.

She drove to her mother’s house in Niland. The two men on motorcycles followed her to make sure she got home safely. They pulled into the church parking lot across the street and stayed there to keep watch. Her mother was at a doctor’s appointment, and Jamie wouldn’t be out of school for another hour, so Janelle was all alone.

Feeling numb, she nibbled on a toasted bagel and warmed up a cup of coffee. After she ate, she took a long shower, washing Ace’s smell from her skin. She felt deliciously sore. Her body was still humming from his touch. He’d used her hard, but she wanted more. She had a rough-sex hangover and there was only one cure.

Unable to stop herself, she soaped her tender clit, stroking the sensitive nub. Although she longed for a sweet escape, she didn’t drift. She didn’t know if she
could
drift anymore. Lucidity was a double-edged sword, cutting too close to the heart of her.

Tears burned her eyes as she rubbed herself harder, punishing her already-abused flesh. She cried out in pain or pleasure, leaning one hand against the shower wall. The climax left her shaking and empty. She curled up on the floor of the stall and wept.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She looked like she’d been on a two-day bender, so she applied makeup with a trembling hand. The doorbell rang as she finished.

It was Tiffany.

Janelle greeted her friend with a big hug, getting weepy again. Tiffany seemed a little choked up also. They sat side by side on the porch swing and waited for Jamie’s bus. The day was warm and bright, the sunshine too harsh for her tired eyes. Ace’s motorcycle friends were still across the street.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tiffany asked.

“I can’t.”

“Did they rape you?”

“No.”

Tiffany’s shoulders relaxed at this news. “I roofied the guy who took you.”

Janelle stared at her in surprise. “How?”

She smiled, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “After Ace...questioned him, I stayed behind to make sure he didn’t call anyone. I found his drug stash, so I gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

Janelle remembered the way the man in the skeleton mask had pressed his erection against her. The White Lightning members had been planning to rape her. If Ace hadn’t come to her rescue, they would have.

Tiffany went on to tell her about Pigpen’s roommate, Rex. “He was different from the others. He was a gentleman.”

“No one in White Lightning is a gentleman.”

“He was.”

“Are you high? Did you sample some pills, too?”

Tiffany didn’t laugh at the joke. “Don’t judge me, J. Look at your boyfriend.”

“Exactly. Look at him, and look at me, and then tell me it’s a good idea to date a motorcycle club member.”

Tiffany studied Janelle’s face, reading the pain etched there. But she had her own pain to deal with, and it drove her to do reckless things. She turned her crystal-blue gaze to the church parking lot, her mouth thin. “He said I had a nice voice.”

“You do,” Janelle said, putting her arm around Tiffany. Supporting her. “You sing like an angel.”

“Why are men so shitty?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’re awesome, and they suck.”

“Yes.”

They moped together and commiserated, rocking back and forth on the swing. Janelle was glad for Tiffany’s company and grateful for her help last night. Tiffany was a true friend and Janelle would always love her.

When Jamie’s bus pulled up to the corner, Janelle walked down the block to greet him. Two boys and a girl hopped off. Her stomach sank when the doors closed and the bus surged forward again, releasing exhaust.

Her son wasn’t there.

* * *

Ace had only one stop to make before he turned himself in.

He went to King’s Castle to see Skye.

Jigsaw dropped him off at the entrance. A handful of Dirty Eleven members waited for him outside. They would escort him to the police substation as soon as he was finished. It wouldn’t be cool if Ace got shot on the way.

He approached the reception desk and requested a visit with Shawnee. One of Bill’s goons directed him into the elevator, where Ace submitted to a weapons search. He’d left his Colt with Jigsaw, so he was clean.

After checking him over, the guard entered the security code for the penthouse suite. They ascended in silence. Ace exited the elevator and proceeded down the hall, steeling himself for a difficult talk with Skye.

Shawnee opened the door to let him in. Her mouth was pursed with displeasure, as usual. She waved him inside with an impatient hand.

He’d never been in their suite before. He preferred to keep his distance, and Shawnee didn’t want him in her personal space. It wasn’t the extravagant living quarters he’d expected. Instead of razzle-dazzle, the décor was minimalist. Sort of Japanese style, though he had only a faint idea what that meant.

Shawnee wasn’t her usual dolled-up self, either. She was wearing a tracksuit with no makeup and flip-flops. Maybe she’d just gone to the gym, or gotten a massage. Upon closer inspection, she appeared tense. Or sick.

“Skye’s in her room, but Bill wants to see you first,” she said.

Fuck.

Ace didn’t have any choice, so he accompanied the guard to Bill’s office, resigned to one last visit with his nemesis. Bill had helped him last night, and Ace needed to consult with him anyway. Nothing Bill said would make a difference, though. Ace’s mind was set.

He entered Bill’s office and took a seat across from him. Ace had never been here before, either. Bill wasn’t the type of man who invited his criminal associates into his home. He always conducted casino business downstairs.

Bill didn’t ask about Janelle or Jester. Perhaps his sources had kept him notified. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, blunt as ever.

“I’m getting out.”

“You can’t get out.”

“I’ll say I was working with Gonzo.”

“No.”

“No?”

Bill leaned forward, his eyes hard. “Don’t you dare fuck with me, you meth-freak loser.”

Ace tensed at the insult, which was harsh and inaccurate. Courtney and Rylan had been the meth addicts, not him. He was an alcoholic, plain and simple. But he didn’t bother to defend himself against the charge. Courtney’s parents had always believed that Ace was the villain in their relationship. He certainly hadn’t been a saint.

“The cops know the two clubs were collaborating,” Bill said. “You implicate him, you implicate me.”

“I won’t mention your name.”

“You won’t have to, numbnuts. My relationship with you isn’t a secret. They’ll question me based on your involvement alone.”

“So what? They’ve got nothing on you.”

“Why can’t you just eliminate the problem and be done with it?”

“Because I’ll never be done with it. If I take care of one problem, another crops up. That’s why they call it a vicious cycle.”

“And what do they call prison, a cakewalk?”

Ace didn’t answer. He hadn’t expected Bill to applaud his decision, but this wasn’t the reaction he’d anticipated. The heat was far more likely to come down on Bill if Ace got arrested for killing Jester. Maybe Bill had a contingency plan in place—one that prevented Ace from being able to speak at all.

In Bill’s scenario, there were two choices. His way, or death.

“What the fuck is wrong with this generation,” Bill muttered, rising to his feet. He strode to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. “First Shank, and now you. No one’s got the balls for blood anymore.”

Ace bristled at the criticism. It was easy for Bill to talk tough when he paid others to do his dirty work. But he’d earned that right, Ace supposed. Bill had come from nothing and reached dizzying heights. He was one of the richest, most powerful men in Indio. Some of his success had been achieved through backstabbing and bloodletting.

Apparently it was lonely at the top.

Ace felt no sympathy for him. Bill was a ruthless, conniving sellout who deserved to reap what he’d sowed.

“You’ll die in prison,” Bill said.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact.”

Ace might be able to get a better plea deal if he pointed the finger at Bill instead of Gonzo, but it didn’t matter. He needed Bill’s help. Without his Dirty Eleven connections, he’d be an easy target for the Aryan Brotherhood. Ace figured his chances of surviving in prison were about fifty-fifty, unprotected. Betraying Bill would reduce that number drastically.

“I’m not negotiating with you,” Bill said. “You do this, you’re on your own.”

“Fine,” Ace said, playing his last card. “I’ll have a chat with Shawnee on my way out.”

Bill’s fingers tensed on the glass tumbler.

Jackpot.

Ace had found Bill’s weak spot: his unfaithful wife. Bill didn’t want Shawnee to know that they’d discussed her affair. He didn’t want Ace running his mouth about it, period. He’d lose face among his friends and enemies if those tawdry rumors circulated. The MC world and the casino world both revolved around male power. Bill could cheat on Shawnee with every whore, maid and waitress in the Coachella Valley, but he couldn’t allow her to do the same. He couldn’t let his own nephew out-cock him.

“You’re not bluffing,” Bill said.

“No.”

Bill placed his drink on the desk and sat down again, his brow furrowed. He could have Ace dragged out of the casino and silenced forever, so this was a risky move. Now wasn’t the time to play it safe, however; Ace was fighting for his life. He was also counting on cooler heads to prevail. Bill didn’t want an ugly scene in his home or his place of business, and there were Dirty Eleven members in the parking lot who supported Ace.