Ride or Die (Devil's Edge MC #1) Read online

  “I told you that you wouldn’t like me angry.”

  When he pounced, she retreated on impulse, not out of fear even though the dude was huge. Besides, when she was little, she was told to stay out of the path of moving vehicles. And compared to her, he was an eighteen-wheeler barreling down her path.

  Enough was enough. She moved as swiftly as he did. Her switchblade was out in seconds and held up to ward him off. “Stay the hell back.”

  He didn’t move any closer, but he also appeared unafraid. His frown and disdain only punctuated that.

  “I don’t know why you are in my apartment, but you need to leave,” she spat.

  His eyes traveled to her shirt. “I don’t think Taylor would be at all happy that you’re wearing another guy’s shirt.” His response had been fast but nothing like she expected.

  Her gaze took a quick peek south, and it was her mistake. Too late. Lightning fast, he had the knife out of her hand and proceeded to crowd her, wedging her between the door and the wall that shielded her tiny kitchen.

  The knife disappeared somewhere behind him. That would have worked in her favor had he not pinned her arms above her head. What kind of training did he have? He maneuvered his body so close; she had no recourse with her legs. Whatever he was, he wasn’t your average thug. And wasn’t that a bitch?

  Worse, sparks lit all over her skin even though his body hadn’t made contact everywhere. She had the urge to lean into him and feel every one of his hard muscles. Shit. She pushed those wayward thoughts back.

  Just because it was useless to fight at that moment didn’t mean she stayed passive. Chin up, she declared, “Taylor doesn’t own me.” She wasn’t exactly surprised he used Taylor’s name. He’d known everything else.

  She kicked out a foot, hoping he’d drop his guard even if only for a second. That would be all she needed to get herself out of this situation. He countered her move by curling a foot around hers, spreading her legs a little farther apart, exposing her a little more.

  Her core throbbed with unfulfilled need. He had no idea how his dominance created desire in her she thought she’d no longer craved.

  “He doesn’t own you, huh?” His voice was rough, like the palm of his hand holding her wrist above her head.

  Defiantly, she shook her head no. Then she switched gears. When unarmed, her playbook dictated rules change. She would need to use whatever was at her disposal to overcome her enemy. She arched her back and rotated her aching center against him. Immediately, as if in tune with her, she felt a response from his hulking frame. She bit her lower lip and angled her head back, changing her expression to one of seduction.

  “He doesn’t.” She licked her lips and watched his cold eyes grow stormy.

  He wasn’t reluctant at all, moving a step closer, creating more contact exactly where she needed. Leaning down with his breath at her ear, he said, “I guess that makes you a club whore then.”

  The comment was a slap. She gritted her teeth and straightened her spine. And damn him. After branding her, he decided to take liberties. The hand that wasn’t holding her arms above her head skimmed up her stomach and up the side of her rib cage, so close to her breasts. Only he didn’t stop to explore, as she expected. Dispassionately, his hand continued over to the neckline of the shirt. With swift action, he yanked down and tore Darth Vader in half. And wasn’t that sad? The sacred pop culture villain had enough to deal with in infamy, only to become rags.

  Damn Taylor. He and his pals always had each other’s backs, which left her in a tattered shirt exposing her sports bra. The lumberjack stepped back after releasing her wrist. His dead eyes roved her body, and she fought the urge to shiver. “You don’t seem much like Taylor’s type. He’s into girls with big tits. A breast man myself, I prefer them small.” He focused on her bra that held everything close to her chest. “Too bad for you.”

  Was that a compliment, an insult, a warning, or a threat? The man was a conundrum, leaving her at a loss for a snappy comeback.

  He went on, filling every space between them with his words. “Now go wash the guy’s stink off you and pack. We leave in fifteen.”

  Anger went against training, yet there it was again. She couldn’t let the asshole think that she was weak enough to be told what to do.

  She launched herself at him, planning to drop him like he was hot. She led with a one-two punch, which he easily blocked. She spun to her other side and used an elbow to his gut. He expelled a stream of hissing air when she landed her target. Encouraged, she immediately went for a well-placed foot, aimed lower on his body. However, he hadn’t doubled over from the gut shot, and he blocked her kick aimed for his nuts. On autopilot, she spun again for momentum to land a kick to his solar plexus. Somehow she ended up landing on her back with him above her.

  All she could think about while she reeled at the position she found herself in was that she was better than that. As she berated herself, he sneered above her, smashing his weight into her. She tried to breathe and not be so aware of every muscle in his body, including his hard length. Frick and frack, fate crapped all over her day because they freaking fit like jigsaw pieces. Erotic nerve endings lit up inside her like Christmas, and it was July.

  “We don’t have time for this, darling,” he drawled. “I imagine if you fuck half as well as you fight we could have a good time. But playtime isn’t going to happen. This is business, and you belong to a brother.”

  There was a hint of a twang when he said the word darling. But there wasn’t time to think about that. His brother reference wasn’t a surprise, nor was he talking about a blood brother or at least the kind that meant shared parents. She’d spied his cut and knew that most of the brothers, or rather club members of his motorcycle club, had military backgrounds. But the way he’d countered her moves meant he’d been more than a foot soldier.

  She glanced above her head because she couldn’t look into his eyes or his mouth, otherwise she might do something she would regret. Kiss or bite, she wasn’t sure. “Get off me, you asshole!”

  He chuckled darkly. “I am an ass. And I happen to enjoy wrecking virgin ass. Tell me, did you ever give Taylor your sweet ass to fuck?”

  There was no hesitation on her part. She ratcheted her head off the floor and into his. It was a vicious blow, and hopefully gave him a mother of a headache in his thick skull. Still, he rolled off her with a groan, and she tried to scramble quickly to her feet. It was a vain attempt, though. He snagged her foot, causing her to fall stomach first. And he was on her again.

  His head was beside hers on the ground, proving he really wasn’t stupid. “For that, I should test my theory. I’m betting Taylor was just happy to be in your pussy.”

  She wiggled beneath him, knowing all was lost. Then she did something she should have done before. She relaxed her body, but not in the limp pliable way. More like the dead weight kind. It was a technique used to throw your attacker off balance. But flat as she was, she just didn’t want to give him an easy way to take her if that was his plan.

  His twang became more pronounced. “As much as I want your sweet ass, it’s not going to happen. So you can get those dirty thoughts out of your pretty head.”

  “As if,” she countered.

  His chuckle fanned across her cheek. As he laughed, the reverberation down his body only heightened her awareness of his stiff cock planted at the crevice of her said ass.

  “Right now, I’m going to get up and you are going to keep your hands and your feet to yourself. This is your last warning.”

  His pause was long, and all she did was breathe. Then his weight was off her. A quick glance showed that he was out of kicking range. She moved like a panther and was on her feet while they played the narrow-eyed staring game.

  “You.” He pointed at her chest. “Shower and pack or I’ll do it for you. Then we are walking out of here, and you’re not going to give me any more trouble.”

  Her molars ground together because her ego was bruised. She knew she was
defeated, at least at the moment. She spun and headed to her bedroom door like a petulant child. He appeared just as she was about to close the door. For a second, she pondered a jabbing retort or a possible move to hurt him where it counted. In the end, she just closed the door in his face. From the other side, she clearly heard what he said next.

  “I’ve already cased the place and I know you have no exit unless you have a parachute, which you don’t. You also don’t have any red underwear, and that’s just a shame. Fifteen minutes, Pipe, or I’m coming in after you. Let’s not go there.”

  After turning the lock as her final fuck you, she heard him laugh. They both knew it wouldn’t keep him out. Pissed off more at herself, she stepped back and held her arms straight out in front of her. She mimed shooting him between the eyes with her hand. She even blew the pretend smoking gun before she headed to her bathroom. She wasn’t taking orders. She was biding her time. And if he hadn’t found her gun, shooting him should be the last thing she did before she exited the apartment for good.

  She did need a shower and that deemed her action not following orders. It was all about good hygiene. She tossed the ruined shirt aside along with her bra and shorts. She turned on the water full blast. There was much meticulous planning to do to come up with something full proof to get herself out of her situation. Running half-cocked was how you got caught. And, she’d been caught once, but not again.

  6

  Once he heard the water running, he headed back to the living room to make a call. She was a total pain in his ass. This job was supposed to be easy, and it had been anything but.

  As the phone rang in his ear, he wondered why the hell Taylor had gotten involved with this girl. The guy only messed with chicks who cared for nothing more than the name on his patch or whether he preferred a blowjob before the fucking, or as a means for cum catching.

  This chick didn’t fit any of those boxes. In fact, she was turning out to be a monkey wrench in his life. He knew there was no way Tay would ditch the rest for her. And she didn’t act like she would just be fine with being his old lady while he kept up a stream of side pieces.

  “You got her,” was the only thing the voice on the other line said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, when?”

  “A few days. Got a couple of stops to make.”

  “Fine. See you by the end of the week.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, ending the call.

  He heard the shower stop and braced himself for what would come next. She wasn’t going to come willingly, which meant he’d just have to break her spirit. And that was a damn shame.

  If only she weren’t such a ball buster, a chick like her could be patch worthy. She was the kind who could have your back and stand by her man. Too bad, only a pussy could handle her, someone outside of the MC. ’Cause no brother would allow her to make him look weak in front of the brotherhood.

  He wondered just how Taylor was going to handle business when he brought her home. He couldn’t worry too much about that. He had a job to do. And he’d never failed to deliver on an assignment in his former life or his new one. That was what made him good at what he did.

  Soon enough, she would learn, too. She would have to accept her fate and that there was no getting out of it.Once he heard the water running, he headed back to the living room to make a call. She was a total pain in his ass. This job was supposed to be easy, and it had been anything but.

  As the phone rang in his ear, he wondered why the hell Taylor had gotten involved with this girl. The guy only messed with chicks who cared for nothing more than the name on his patch or whether he preferred a blowjob before the fucking, or as a means for cum catching.

  This chick didn’t fit any of those boxes. In fact, she was turning out to be a monkey wrench in his life. He knew there was no way Tay would ditch the rest for her. And she didn’t act like she would just be fine with being his old lady while he kept up a stream of side pieces.

  “You got her,” was the only thing the voice on the other line said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, when?”

  “A few days. Got a couple of stops to make.”

  “Fine. See you by the end of the week.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, ending the call.

  He heard the shower stop and braced himself for what would come next. She wasn’t going to come willingly, which meant he’d just have to break her spirit. And that was a damn shame.

  If only she weren’t such a ball buster, a chick like her could be patch worthy. She was the kind who could have your back and stand by her man. Too bad, only a pussy could handle her, someone outside of the MC. ’Cause no brother would allow her to make him look weak in front of the brotherhood.

  He wondered just how Taylor was going to handle business when he brought her home. He couldn’t worry too much about that. He had a job to do. And he’d never failed to deliver on an assignment in his former life or his new one. That was what made him good at what he did.

  Soon enough, she would learn, too. She would have to accept her fate and that there was no getting out of it.

  7

  She stepped over the wig that had kept some of her anonymity and braced her hands on the edge of the counter. Staring at herself in the mirror, she took in eyes that held the dull lifeless look she thought she’d shaken. Irritated, she pushed wet hair that fell past her shoulders behind her ears and tried to concentrate on how to get out of the mess she was in.

  There wasn’t a lot of time and she wondered if she should keep up the pretense of short hair or go au naturel. It turned out to be an easy decision. She bent at the knee and squatted to pick up the wig. Her thought was that it might come in handy if he didn’t know her real hair color and length. It may make it easier to lose him in a crowd.

  With the Conair, she made quick work of drying her hair. It was one of the few times she was happy she didn’t have thick, commercial worthy hair. Despite the length, it didn’t take forever to dry and get the wig back in place. Inwardly, she gave the wig vendor a thumbs-up. It had stayed in place even in the worst of times these past several hours. So she used the seller’s technique to get it secured in place over a skin-tight hair cap that held her real hair in check.

  Without a clock in the bathroom, she had no idea how much time had passed. However, she had to make time for her next task. On her knees, she opened the cabinet under the sink. There wasn’t much there but a few bottles of cleaner and a box of tampons. She plucked them out one by one, and then lifted up the false bottom. Underneath, her disassembled gun was still there. She took it and the box of tampons to her room after returning everything to their rightful place.

  In her room, she headed for her closet and pulled on a fresh bra, underwear, a T-shirt, and jeans. She didn’t have much, but she pulled a trash bag out and started to make several piles on the bed. She packed light, in case she had to two-foot it, putting the bare minimum into a backpack. She frowned at her all black underclothing, thinking about the lumberjack’s comment about her not having red underwear.

  Annoyed that she was even thinking about the overbearing asshole, she dumped everything else she didn’t pack back into the trash bag. It was unclear if she’d ever return. She hated the idea of the building manager pawing through her things. She figured he was less likely to go through everything if it was easy to dump.

  She’d just zipped up the backpack when a knock and a gruff voice had her glancing toward the door.

  “Time,” was all he said.

  She hefted the backpack on her shoulder after she knotted up the trash bag and dropped it into the open closet. The only other thing she took was her leather jacket. Although it was summer, there were places where it could get really cold at night.

  When she opened the door, he was perched a mere step away. He closed his mouth like he had been about to say something. Then he saw her and changed his mind. She glanced away and headed to her living room. It wasn’t a far hike.

  Her
forward progress halted when the weight on her shoulder was tugged in the opposite direction. Then, it was gone.

  She turned to see him place her bag on the kitchen counter. She stalked over, incensed he was barging in on her privacy once again. Plus, she had things she didn’t want him to find in there.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” she raged.

  So damn close, his smell invaded her nose. Sugar and spice and everything she wanted to hate. Why hadn’t she noticed it before?

  “I’m alive for a reason,” he said, as if she were dumb for asking.

  As short as his explanation was, she understood. She would have done the same thing had it been her. When he opened the bag, on cue, her jumbo box of tampons was the first to spill out, taking a tumble across the counter. She held in a smile because that had been by design, and its appearance worked better than she dreamed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the least bit abashed by the feminine products. Instead, he stuck his hand deep into the opening of the backpack, and she waited for him to find her gun. It was wrapped in a pair of yoga pants she put at the bottom.

  Offense was the best defense, so she prattled out a curse. “How dare you not trust me? You break in my house, and you treat me like a criminal. I’m being forced against my will to see a woman I don’t know. And you’re busy going through my underwear like some creep show.”

  His eyes narrowed, but his hand left the bag. She waited for the gun to come out as well. But it didn’t. Either he hadn’t noticed or he was giving her false hope.

  His too damn kissable lips weren’t thin. So when he licked them before taking a too close for comfort step in her direction, she stepped back.

  The ideas of his hands on her were imaginative. However, once they were there, she hadn’t imagined them moving down her sides and across her back, slowly and methodically as if he were a cop making a bust. Even as heat burned a flame inside her, the bastard was busy checking her for weapons.