Ride or Die (Devil's Edge MC #1) Page 2
It was too late to rein in her quick temper, which would be her undoing one day. She did a one-eighty, wielding a hand with her small but weighty purse. She wanted to coldclock him and stalk away. Unfortunately for her, he’d silently moved closer and easily caught her hand in mid-strike. His eyes were hard when he shook his head.
“Not a good idea, Piper, or whatever you’re calling yourself these days.”
Her eyes narrowed, because she was sure as shit she hadn’t ever seen him before. Yet he knew her name and that she’d been adopted. What else did he know about her? Most likely a lot, an inner voice yelled. And even though she hadn’t seen the back of his vest, she was pretty certain of the crew he ran with.
His grip didn’t hurt, but it held fast. And for the longest moment, they glared at each other, waiting while at a standoff. He steered her arm downward in a non-lethal direction. Was he that stupid? A quick ram up with a fisted hand and she could do some of the damage the meth addict had feared. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that clueless. He held on to her and seemed to know what position her other arm was in without even looking.
He broke the silence first. In a cold and sterile tone, he said, “Like I said, we need to talk.”
“I don’t know who the fuck you are. And I don’t have a real mom,” she drawled with a fuck you sneer. “My mom is in the ground, God rest her soul, and anyone claiming otherwise can go to hell.”
They were so close; she could see his eyes crinkle at the corner. The chime of chains at his side only reminded her that tall and handsome wasn’t a lumberjack, but a dangerous someone she needed to get away from.
“You’re definitely Tricks’s daughter.” The chuckle in his voice reverberated from somewhere deep in his chest. And oh what a solid chest he had because, damn it, her free hand had placed itself right there in the middle.
Time was up on this little game, and she was about to show him just who she really was. She’d been too close, indecisively locked on a decision-making tree with the stranger. She pushed off with one hand and yanked her other one free, giving up the pretense he ever had her under his control.
“You can tell this Tricks to take a flying leap to hell or whatever rock she crawled out from under. You have the wrong girl.”
She whirled around, needing to get away from him. He was everything she didn’t need in her life and everything that turned her on. But damn him, he snagged her arm and swung her back so fast, she had no choice but to collide with his chest. As if in slow motion he pulled something from his pocket. Her instincts flared as she calculated her next move. She stilled when he proffered a folded picture…of her.
There was no mistaking her likeness. It was from a time when she was still happy and young. Some might have called it carefree. And damn, the thing had the bent marks and worn edges of something that had been handled far too much. And who the hell had pictures anymore? Everything was electronic. But there it was.
He let go of her arm, having forced her into submission by using the past.
“I like your hair long,” he said while fingering her short locks that came just below her ear. “Don’t get me wrong, blue suits you, but I would have loved to twist a handful of your hair and fuck you senseless.”
And wasn’t that screwed up that her mind joined his in the possibilities? She should have first been reminded why her hair, a mixture of black and blue, symbolized a lot of things she tried to ignore.
She stepped back. “You must be stupid to think I’d ever let you touch me.”
And really, was that the conversation she was going to have with this guy? He knew shit about her, her past, and had a freaking picture. It was time to go. She would have to leave everything and just disappear.
A growl of a laugh preceded his next words. “Oh, sweetheart, I can tell by your rapid breaths you wish I’d fuck you.”
“Fuck off.” It was a dumb retort but her automatic catch phrase. However, it was time she took her own advice. His legs were long, but she was banking on him not wanting to leave his precious ride unguarded seeing that he hadn’t locked it or anything in his move to get to her earlier.
“Don’t bother running, Pipe.” Hell, he’d read her mind. And why had he used the shortened version of her name? No one called her Pipe but Kings. “I’ll find you just like I did tonight. And you won’t like me angry. You won’t like it at all.”
Reminiscent of a movie line or not, she still shuddered as his words drifted to her as if spoken in her ear. However, her legs hadn’t failed her when she called them into service. She didn’t stop at his warning. She had to move. She had no idea how she’d been found. But he seemed awfully confident about finding her again. She had to assume he’d know her next move. She couldn’t contact Kings or one of the girls she halfway called friend. So instead, she ducked down into the subway tunnel and headed to the one place she didn’t think he would find her.
3
When she arrived at the apartment door, it hadn’t been a simple task to get there. First, she had to pick a backdoor lock with the tools she always kept on her. Up a back stairway three flights, down a drab hallway, and she made it to a door where she swiftly rapped twice.
There was a muffled voice before the door opened. She breezed right by the guy who had answered it and found herself once again in freeze mode. What she saw was a tiny girl sitting comfortably on Chris’s couch.
A moment passed when everyone seemed to be assessing everyone else in the room. She glanced over the pixie girl with golden hair, heart-shaped face, and boobs that seemed to pop out of her tight shirt. In return, the girl gauged her with hooded eyes. Piper knew what the girl saw, skinny, lacking in every department where the other girl excelled.
“Chris, who’s this girl?” the pixie said in an unmistakable New York accent.
Piper held up her hand to stop the girl’s accusations. “I’m not his girlfriend or anything.” Then she turned a pleading gaze at Chris. “But I really need to talk to you.” She paused before adding, “Like right now.”
Chris measured Piper’s words against the expression on her face. In turn, Piper tried to send him a bat signal with her eyes and gave him a semi pout with her mouth. He sighed heavily, the weight of which wasn’t lost on her.
“You’re not going to choose her over me, are you, Chris?” the pixie whined, also picking up the meaning of Chris’s sigh.
When he gave Piper a final glance before he made his decision, she did all she could to convey wordlessly that this was something that couldn’t wait. And that she was sorry for interrupting his evening.
“Carmel, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Carmel. Who the hell called their kid Carmel? It was just all kinds of wrong. The five-foot, well-tanned nothing stood. Her buttery yellow dress barely covered all her important parts. Piper waited for the pixie to hold her hand out for payment of services rendered or not, but all the girl did was do a better job of pouting than Piper had and the pixie had the lips for it.
“Don’t bother.” And the word bother was dragged out in a way only a New Yorker could do justice.
“Carmel, don’t be like that.”
“I hope she can give head like I can.” And with that, Chris groaned and closed the door behind his date or hooker or whatever she was.
He spun around and growled his frustration. “What the hell, Piper? I was going to get laid tonight.”
You would think by the way he said it that offers like that were few and far between. But Chris was comfortably cute. She guessed though with his profession, he might be a recluse and destined only for online relationships. She felt bad because he was clearly sporting a wood.
She did a double take at the sight. The hard-on that strained to get out looked deceptively large. Could it be a sock in his jeans? She shook her head and placed her gaze firmly north of the border. She didn’t usually mix business with pleasure, but tonight was clearly a night of firsts. And without her emergency stash, she didn’t have ready payment for the services she would a
sk of him.
He pushed back locks of hair that were weeks late on a much needed trim, while he waited for her answer. Turning on the charm, she closed the short distance between them in her best sultry stride. She almost stumbled, but Chris caught her. She played it off by turning to face him and cupped his impressive package with a well-placed hand. Part curiosity and part offer. And damn it all to hell. Who knew nerds like Chris would have cocks larger than the average Joe? He didn’t have elephantiasis of the penis or anything, but he was definitely packing.
“Fuck,” Chris cursed before removing her hand.
She pouted like a five-year-old with her bottom lip poked out because damn was he turning her down. Although it was a bit of relief, it also was so not an ego booster.
“As much as I would love to,” he said while shaking his head as if clearing his thoughts, “you came here and interrupted my date with what has to be something important.”
“Damn, turned down. I really must look like shit.” She strode over to his couch and plopped into the spot vacated by the pixie. She inspected her boobs when she said, “I guess my girls don’t compare to Carmel Corn.”
He dropped next to her on the couch and said nothing about the nickname she gave for the eye candy who’d left. Instead, quiet Chris did something she didn’t expect. His hand cupped one of her breasts as if weighing it. “No…they’re good.”
She playfully slapped his hand away with a laugh. “You had your chance and you blew it.”
He groaned. “Don’t say blew.”
She laughed again. “I’m sorry. But I could take care of that for you.”
Intrigued by lover boy Chris and half turned on by her earlier encounter with the lumberjack, she considered it. She needed to end her dry spell. She couldn’t afford to be taken off guard by another handsome face in the future.
She blinked up and turned smoky eyes to the boy wonder. His lids rapidly opened and closed before licking his lips.
“Well, maybe I still have it.”
He groaned again, loud and long before leaning forward and placing his hands on the back of his head. “Who said you lost it?”
She didn’t know how to respond. She’d been half joking.
“What do you want, Piper, so you can leave, and I can eradicate the blue balls you created?”
She turned serious. “I need a favor.”
He gave her an expression that was a mix of confusion and incredulity. She filled him in on her current needs.
“You know that’s going to cost,” he wagered after hearing her out.
“Yeah.” She sighed sheepishly.
His eyes narrowed. “You have the funds, right?”
“That’s the thing.” She paused and gave him a lingering look. “I’m in a bit of a jam.”
She wasn’t sure how his eyes got even smaller as he narrowed them further. “What kind of jam?”
“The kind where I can’t go to my apartment, and I need a place to stay tonight.”
Her request hung in the air before he finally said, “I only have a one-bedroom apartment, Pipe.”
And there it was. The third time tonight someone called her that. It may have seemed like an obvious nickname, but no one had called her that except Kings in a very long time. She was starting to see it as a very bad sign.
Going for broke, which she was at the moment if she was being technical, she straddled his lap. “I’ll make it worth your while if you help me out.”
Chris had the equipment and who knew, maybe the ability. As rusty as she was, she was sure any guy she’d let have her could probably get her off…or not.
4
She rolled him over to show who exactly was in charge. It was her damn body and her terms. They had already relieved themselves of their clothes. So nothing stood between them but each of their wills. Would he submit and ride this journey with her or would he fight her for dominance?
His hands went for her hips as he bucked once—no, twice—to steer her sex toward his arousal. She bit her lip because, damn it, she wanted him. She rubbed herself up and down his length, coating him with her slippery excitement.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
She leaned forward and captured his mouth in a kiss. Then she recklessly lifted her hips and held his cock erect so she could enjoy a slow ride down while taking him all in. His neck arched back, exposing his throat. She sucked on his pulse point with fervor like she was some kind of damn vampire. What the hell was wrong with her?
All questions of her doing wrong dissolved with the feel of him, fully inside her. She’d wanted him all night. And for that moment she had him.
His fingers dug into her hips as her pace increased. She rolled her body to make sure her clit made moan-worthy contact with each pass. She sighed out loud, feeling the tightening in her body. The coils of pleasure wound deep.
Just as she was peaking, her eyes slid open. The smell of coffee shattered her sleep. When she had the ability to fully pry her eyes open, she found herself looking at a towel-clad Chris. His chest was broad and glistened with water from a recent shower. Holy crap, Chris was most definitely cute in a nerdy kind of way. But he was sort of a friend. Someone she could count on in a pinch like last night. People like that were few and far between in her life.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said. His leer made her hope she hadn’t moaned out loud in her sleep. She glanced away, not wanting to see the truth of that question in his expression. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pour himself a cup of coffee. “Want a cup?”
She sat up and clutched the blanket to her chest as if she was showing any skin of consequence. His Darth Vader shirt hid anything she had to offer. And there was something terribly too intimate about wearing his clothes considering what had been going on in her head. Not that it had been him she’d been dreaming of. The bearded tatted-up guy had unmistakably been her subconscious muse.
“No, thanks,” she offered. Drinking a steaming mug of anything at the moment would make things more awkward than they already were.
He appeared to laugh to himself, ostensibly confident in his own skin. He also wasn’t remorseful for his state of undress. She guessed she couldn’t blame him for his self-assurance that bordered on cocky. He had the goods to back it up.
She stood and almost took his shirt off but thought better of it. She slipped on her shorts and spied the clock on the microwave. It read just past seven in the morning. Her escape plan depended on morning commuters. She needed their vast numbers in order to hide in plain sight.
“Mind if I borrow your shirt? I’ll return it with the cash.” Her diversionary tactics last night were just a way of getting him geared up to do the work, not for final payment. Chris apparently wasn’t that hard up.
He grunted as she rolled her work shirt and somehow fitted it into her tiny purse. She checked her phone, and it still showed no signs of life. In a no-brainer move, she’d removed the battery earlier. She had no idea if the mysterious stranger had her number, but he seemed to know too much about her that left her uncomfortable. All she needed was for him to be tech-savvy enough to be able to trace her through her phone. Thus, she’d disabled it.
With her meager things in hand, she bolted to the door. She didn’t say goodbye, merely waved in his direction. Things had gotten weird last night. And although she didn’t talk to Chris often, she imagined she would be talking to him a lot less once their current business concluded.
She lost herself in the crowded sidewalks and brutal subway trains. After she’d exited at her stop, she decided that heading to her apartment from the back would be a bad idea. Yes, it was secluded, but that was the problem. She would have to pick the lock because residents weren’t encouraged to use that door. And who knew if her predator had backup. Last thing she needed was to get caught alone unawares. The lumberjack was big and could easily take her by surprise. He’d proven that much last night. She was good at what she did, but physics was just that. Mass and volume could sometimes trump skill.
“Miss Baker, nice to see you,” the doorman said with a warm smile.
She nodded and continued forward, trying to keep her steps steady. If she’d been spotted, she wouldn’t have much time before she was followed inside either through the front or the back. Once she made it to the bank of two elevators, she rapidly tapped the up button. She kept her face turned opposite the camera that pointed in her direction. She fisted her hands in front of her, out of sight, not wanting to give the recording any hint that she was anxious. When the bell sounded and the door opened, she counted to two to force herself from bolting inside.
Still, she wasn’t home free. She stepped forward, pressing the button for her floor. She kept her head down as she stood as close to the front as possible. The elevators had cameras as well. It was most likely behind her. Damn the shiny metal of the walls. Her reflection would show. Good thing the cameras most likely had grainy video quality at best.
When the elevator came to a stop on her floor, she once again maintained an unhurried walk to her door. She practically strolled like a Sunday walker. Unlocking her door, she entered and quickly closed it. Her forehead made contact on the cool surface as she took a few breaths. There wouldn’t be much time for more. She had to plan and prepare what she could take and what she would leave. When she turned around and got a gander at her living room, she stopped dead.
5
All kinds of crazy what the fuck, what the hell ran through her mind. “What are you doing here?” she asked more calmly than she felt. Smirkalious sat on her blue-light special futon. And he wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked righteously pissed. And what the hell was that all about? He was the intruder, not her guest.