Throttle's Seduction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 7) (15 page)

But she knew, since he was a biker, he’d never chase her.

Sweaty from her ride, she took a cool shower. With a towel wrapped around her, she went over to her window to close her blinds, glancing out. She gasped and clutched her towel tighter around her. Straining, she fixed her stare on the cluster of pine trees across from her, her heart thumping. She swore she saw someone watching her from behind the trees. Quickly, she switched off her light and moved to the side, pinning herself against her wall, then peeked out the corner of the blinds.

She stayed like that for a very long time, and just when she was ready to abandon her post, deciding the light had been playing tricks on her, a shadowy figure emerged from behind the group of trees. Goose bumps carpeted her arms, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. From her view, he looked as if he were going to cross the street and come over to her house. Her stomach lurched as she tried to remember whether she’d closed her front door. She knew she’d latched her screen, but a hard jerk could open it in a second. Her thumping heart filled her ears, but then she switched her bedroom light on and off in rapid succession. The figure stopped, then bolted away. Leaning her head against the cool wall, she struggled to regain her normal breathing.

After she shut her blinds, she slipped on a nightshirt and went to the living room, checking that her front door was closed and locked. She debated about calling the police, but what could she tell them? That a figure of what appeared to be a man crossed the street, then jumped away after she turned the lights on and off? She couldn’t describe him nor could she even tell them that he was coming to her house, even though she had a strong feeling he was.
He was fuckin’ watching me.
She shivered.

For a long while, she sat on her couch trying to piece together what had happened, finally deciding that it was probably a neighborhood teenager who’d wanted to catch a glimpse of her taking her towel off. If he’d meant something harmful, he wouldn’t have run off so quickly. She made a mental note to make sure all her drapes and blinds were closed the minute darkness hit.

She padded into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of sweet tea and a leftover burrito, then settled on her couch and flipped on the TV. After she finished eating, her eyelids kept drooping so she stretched out. Within minutes, she fell fast asleep.

*     *     *

The headline in
the morning paper read “Woman Photographed and Raped. Is this the work of the Lingerie Bandit?” Detective McCue threw the paper across the desk, his jaw clenched. “Fuck!”

“What’s up, Earl?” Carlos, one of the other detectives, asked.

“The newspaper is having a field day with this ‘Lingerie Bandit’ shit. The goddamned reporter didn’t spend most of the night with a traumatized victim who’d been humiliated, degraded, then raped for hours by this sick bastard.”

“They don’t give a shit. Only interested in what’ll sell more copies.”

“The poor woman,” McCue muttered under his breath. In his gut, he’d known it was only a matter of time before masturbating, stealing underwear, and taking lewd pictures of women wouldn’t be enough for the perverted bastard. The perpetrator’s urges had now risen to a whole new despicable level. He sighed.

The victim was a nice, twenty-three-year-old clerk for the county court. The rapist had broken into her house a little bit after midnight. The woman had woken up when she felt something crushing her, and fear had spread through her when she’d looked into his cold, flat eyes. Before she could scream, he’d secured duct tape over her mouth and tied her hands behind her back. He’d cut off her pajama top, then removed her panties. After he’d raped her for several hours, he’d forced her to put on different bras and panties before he took photographs of her in various poses. After he’d finished, he’d helped her put on her pajamas, tucked her into bed, removed the duct tape from her mouth, and told her he was sorry. He’d thanked her and left.

The victim told the detective he’d used a condom, but McCue hoped the CSI was able to get something that they could test for DNA. He wanted to compare it with what they had picked up at one of the earlier crime scenes; if there was DNA found in the present case, he was pretty sure it’d match the one from before. Not having any strong leads was frustrating as hell, because there weren’t any solid suspects. The usual registered sex offenders and newly released criminals who’d committed sex crimes were brought in for questioning, but after checking out their alibis, they were all cleared. Another dead end. Whoever this bad guy was, he definitely was staying under the radar.

“You know this doesn’t bode too well,” Earl said as he went over his report from the previous night again.

“What?” Carlos asked.

“Escalating to physically hurting women. It’s just a matter of time before he wants a bigger thrill, and the only thing left is murder.” He reclined in his swivel chair, his face taut. “We fucking have to stop him before that happens.”

He tossed the paper aside and pushed his large frame into his jacket. “I’m going back to see if I can’t find a neighbor who saw or heard anything last night.”

“Do you want me to help you canvas the area?” Carlos asked.

“No. You’re working on the stolen cars case. I can handle it.”

“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything. Unless an emergency comes up, I’ll be at my desk for the next few hours.”

“Noted.” With slumped shoulders, Detective McCue headed out.

A
week had
passed since Throttle had kissed Kimber at the clubhouse, and he was damn surprised she hadn’t come looking for him. What the hell was up with that? From the way she’d responded to him, he knew she’d felt the connection between them, so why was she staying away?
She probably wants me to come after her. Like that’s gonna fuckin’ happen
. She had a real “I don’t give a damn” attitude, but she didn’t fool him for one bit. She wanted him just as bad as he wanted her, but she was acting like a fucking princess in a tower.
Screw that.
If she wants it, she better take her own ass out of the tower and come and get it. I’ll be ready.
He chuckled as he drove the lawn mower around a large yard.

Business had been very good for the past month, and he and Rags were hustling their asses most days. Working under the sun’s piercing rays had colored his skin a rich golden brown. Most days he and Rags worked shirtless, much to the delight of the housewives whose husbands paid for their landscaping services.

When he finished the lawn, he killed the motor and jumped off, then grabbed a bottled water from the cooler and walked over to the shade of an oak tree. He sat on the ground, his back against the trunk, and took a long drink. A light breeze rustled through the tree, and wisps of sunlight filtered through the branches thick with green leaves. He pulled out his phone to see if anyone had tried to call him. It was a habit of all the Insurgents—checking their phones often. Being in an outlaw club, a member never knew when they’d be needed to take care of something that threatened the brotherhood, or if another brother needed a helping hand. He noticed a missed call from his sister and dialed her number.

“Hey, what’s up? Olivia okay?” he asked.

“She’s great. Ella’s having a birthday pool party at the community center. Olivia’s been excited for days over it.” He heard her inhale deeply.

“Are there enough adults to watch her and the other kids? You should’ve gone with her.”

“She’s fine. They have three lifeguards and several mothers are there. I had to do an early morning shift so I couldn’t have gone. You fuss too much over her.” She laughed.

“Maybe, but I’d feel better if you were with her.”

“She’s good. Relax. Anyway, I need you to come over and fix one of my sprinkler heads on the lawn. It’s broken and it’s near the basement window. I’m afraid it’s gonna flood. I’ve called the landlord several times, but he’s not returning my calls. Can you come over?”

“I don’t know. We gotta finish this job. Turn the fuckin’ water off from inside the house.”

“I don’t have a clue how to do that.”

He exhaled loudly. “I’ve shown you at least ten times how to do it.”

“I keep forgetting. Sorry.”

“How long’s it been running?”

“Like a couple hours. I called you but you didn’t pick up.”

“I was on the lawn mower and didn’t hear the call. Let me see if Rags and the other two guys are good without me for a while. I’ll let you know. If it doesn’t work, I’ll come after we call it a day.”

“I’m afraid the basement will be flooded if you don’t come soon.”

“Hang on.” Throttle called Rags over. “Rags, do you think you can go without me for a couple hours? Dawn has a broken sprinkler and is afraid it’s gonna flood her basement.”

“Sure, we can handle it. We’re almost done here, and the next job is a small one.”

Throttle nodded. “Dawn? Yeah, I can come over now.”

“Great. Oh, and I want you to look at a tree in the front yard. I think it’s dying. I water it and it just gets browner. I don’t know if I’m overwatering it.”

“I’ll check it out when I get there.”

Twenty minutes later, Throttle pulled his pickup in front of Dawn’s house. He immediately saw the tree his sister had told him about, and he spotted the sprinkler shooting water straight up in the air. When he was halfway up the walk, Dawn came out on the porch. “That was fast,” she said, holding a cigarette between her fingers.

He looked at her hand. “You smoke too fuckin’ much.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Just sayin’. You gotta think of Olivia.” He pushed past her and dashed down the stairs, turning the water off before he began fixing the problem.

An hour later, the sprinkler was fixed. As he stood in front of the ash tree, he said, “This one’s dead. I’ll come by on the weekend with Rags and take it out. I don’t have the equipment with me.”

“You can’t save it? I love this tree.”

“Nope. It’s got emerald ash borers.”

“What the hell is that?”

He pointed to hundreds of holes. “See these? This is the sign that you have these insects all over the tree. They nosh on the leaves and lay their eggs and basically devour the shit outta the tree. I gotta get rid of it.” Throttle wiped his forehead with a rag from his back pocket.

“Wow. I don’t know a damn thing about trees, but I’m sad to see this one go. You look hotter than hell.”

“That’s ‘cause I am. It must be a hundred degrees or more.”

“Come in and I’ll get you a beer. Why don’t you take a cold shower to cool off? I washed the laundry you gave me last week, so you have some clean clothes to put on.”

“I gotta get back and help Rags out.”

“It’ll just take ten minutes. Your T-shirt is soaked with sweat. Come on.” They walked in the house, and Dawn handed him a towel and lightly pushed him to the bathroom.

When he came back into the family room, showered and changed, he felt a hell of a lot better. Dawn was on the couch, an unopened bottle of beer on the table. “Is that for me?” he asked.

“Yep. I thought you’d like one.”

“I can’t stay too much longer. I told Rags I’d be back after a couple hours to help out.”

“It only takes a few minutes to have a beer, especially the way you guzzle it.” She smiled. “You look nice and fresh. Feel better?”

He nodded. “This is one fuckin’ hot summer. It’s way hotter than last year.”

The doorbell rang and Dawn padded over to answer it. “Oh. What are you doing here?” Throttle heard surprise laced in her voice.

“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop over for a quick visit.” The woman’s voice sounded familiar, and Throttle’s muscles tensed.
Fuck, she sounds just like—

“Throttle, look who’s here,” Dawn said.

Mariah.
His eyes narrowed as they fell on his ex-lover.
She looks damn good. A bit worn out, but her curves are still there.
When his eyes shifted to Dawn’s guilty ones, he knew she’d set the whole fucking thing up. She’d known all along where the valve was to shut off the water, but she’d pretended ignorance as a ruse to lure him over there to “bump” into his ex. The shower, fresh clothes, all of it had been a damn trap.
I wish Dawn would stay the fuck outta my life.
“I gotta go.” He turned to leave.

“Don’t go yet, Throttle. How’ve you been?” Mariah’s fingers brushed against his forearm.

He jerked away. “Been fine.”

“I’d like to talk to you in private,” she said softly.

“I have some laundry in the wash that I have to hang up. Be back in a few.” Before Throttle could say anything, Dawn scurried out of the room.

“It’s good seeing you,” Mariah said.

“You got ten minutes to talk. Then I leave.” He crossed his arms over his chest and bristled when she raked her eyes over him, lingering on his powerful arms before shifting to his mouth.

“You look real good.” She smiled seductively.

“You’ve just used up thirty seconds.”

“You’re still a hard man, aren’t you? I’ve thought about you a lot over the last thirteen years.” She pushed her hair over her shoulders and took a step forward. He just stared at her stone-faced. “I was a fool to hurt you like I did. I was a fucking idiot to have cheated on you and to have thrown what we had away. I’m so very sorry… I really am. Pony turned out to be a mean, drunken sonofabitch. He was nothing like you.” She placed her slender fingers on her throat. “I was young and stupid when you and I were together. I didn’t realize what a wonderful man you were.”