Wild Ways Page 8

  Blackbeard didn’t move. “You fit the description and you’re here asking about a member of the Kings. It ain’t a coincidence. Is it?”

  Julian subtly patted the seat and gave her a look that said, get on and get ready. “Did he describe the shooter’s piece? Did it look like this?” Julian drew his gun with the same kind of casualness. “What did your cousin tell you about the scene?”

  “Dude came out of nowhere and started shooting. Hit him inside the car in dead darkness. Took out two others, chest shots. Nearly shot a woman that was with ’em.”

  “Was he trying to hit her?”

  Blackbeard paused. “I doubt it.”

  “So the guy is a crack shot. Sounds like he could have been a top sniper in one of the elite military forces. Let’s just say I am that guy.” Julian flipped a coin up in the air and shot it. The quarter landed on the asphalt, obliterated. “That I took out three men in the dark and rescued the chick they were trying to abduct. By myself. You really want to fuck with me? I don’t like shooting people—I take that back. I do like it.” His voice had taken on a low, growling tone. “Reminds me of my SEAL days, rushing a compound full of Taliban shitheads armed with AKs ready to squash American soldiers. I like taking out bad guys.” He slid him a cold, calculated look. “You want to be a bad guy?”

  Blackbeard swallowed. “I’m not looking for trouble. I just wanted to—”

  “Live? You want to live? You go back into that bar.”

  The man’s bravado had seeped right out of him. He glanced down at the quarter again, then trudged toward the door.

  Mollie was already on the bike, her helmet on. Julian grabbed his helmet from the handlebar, put it on as he mounted the bike, and started the engine in one seamless action. His Glock was still in his hand as he tore out of the lot.

  He tucked his gun in his waistband, and she did the same, keeping it close in case they were pursued. They took a completely different way out of the area. He seemed to know where he was going, winding through the backstreets without hesitation. She kept watching behind them, even though she knew he was keeping an eye on his mirror.

  Once they were on a highway, he dug into his pocket and handed her his phone. “Find Rath in my contact list and send him a text that they’re looking for his bike.”

  She tightened her thighs on him and scrolled down the contacts—many Spanish names, several of them women. The tiny pictures accompanying some of them showed an array of attractive faces, and one particularly sexy pose for Susana. The line of the last text read Baby, I miss you. Mollie couldn’t tell whether it was from Julian or Susana, but the sight of it twisted her stomach. Of course a guy like Julian would have women, maybe even a girlfriend. She knew so little about his personal life.

  She scrolled past Maverick, Risk, and Saxby before going back up to Rath. She sent a quick text: The clubs know about your bike, are looking for stars and stripes.

  A few seconds later, Good to know. You still with the hot chick?

  Hot? He thought she was hot? Her cheeks flushed. This is the chick texting for Julian. He’s driving.

  Sweet.

  Of course, a guy like Rath wasn’t going to be embarrassed. She reached around Julian and slid the phone back into the holster. The back of her fingers brushed against his hard abs and warm skin.

  “You have a lot of contacts.” Yes, she was being nosy. She wanted to know more about this man who smelled good, felt good … and looked good, too. Not that it would matter, she told herself. Not that it would go anywhere beyond this.

  “I have a lot of family. Three brothers, two sisters, and twenty-two cousins. And they all live in Orlando, most in the same neighborhood.”

  She stifled a sigh, though she doubted he would have heard it anyway. “You’re lucky.”

  He made some sort of snorting sound. “I’m not sure I’d use the word ‘lucky.’ I love them, don’t get me wrong. But that many people with their fingers in your life, it’s loco.”

  “Your brother wants you to come home.” And so did Susana, but thank goodness she stopped herself from mentioning it.

  “They want me to work in the family business.”

  “I’d do anything to have family who wanted me—” She faltered. Just family that wanted her would be enough. “To work with them. Be around.” Did she sound as pitiful as she thought she did? “It’s just that I don’t have much family.”

  “Your mom has passed, your dad is in the wind, and your grandfather is a tough son of a bitch who won’t help you find the one person you love most in this world. I don’t suppose your step-grandmother is much of an ally?”

  Julian understood her in a way no one ever had. It twisted inside her, made her want to lean close and hug him. “No. She tolerated us, but I don’t blame her. She married my granddad and ended up with a drug-addicted daughter and her two girls. She was kind and patient. I’m grateful for that.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think about the other side of the family coin. All I’ve ever known was my loud, affectionate, meddlesome Puerto Rican family. When I was a kid, I thought everybody’s family was like that. Sunday dinners with everyone, music pounding, the guys playing dominoes and the women in the kitchen gabbing and drinking rum punch.” He inhaled loudly. “I can smell the chuletas in my mind—pork chops, pigeon peas, and rice. Platanos, like fried bananas. Damn, I miss the food.” Passion for that food saturated his voice, as though he were talking about a sexy woman. “I’ve gone home with some of my SEAL brothers on leave and I appreciate my family more.”

  “Yet you stay away from them.”

  “As far as I can get. That goes back to the loco part.”

  “So chasing outlaw motorcycle-gang members with some woman you hardly know … that’s sane?”

  He laughed, rich and booming, as he turned slightly toward her. “This is what keeps me sane. Alive. And helping you, mami, is what fulfills my soul.”

  Chapter 6

  Most of the four-hour ride was through the country, the kind of riding Julian liked best. He’d grown up in a city and relished a nice, long ride without seeing a lot of buildings. This time he elected to stay on the highway instead of taking the slower, meandering portion of Route 66 through Waynesville. Unlike his travels with Rath, Julian had a mission.

  As they neared Devil’s Tail, Mollie leaned close and asked, “Does the Devil’s Inn actually have rooms?”

  He liked when she had a question or a comment. Her hands tightened on his waist, and her breasts pressed against his back as she leaned closer. It wasn’t as erotic as, say, what they’d done in the bathroom, but it still felt nice.

  What had happened in the restroom, man, talk about loco. He’d slipped so deep into the role, he’d forgotten it was a role. And Mollie … damn. She’d been nervous, and yet she’d seemed to fall into the façade as fully as he had.

  He brought his focus back to her question. “No, it’s not a motel. But they do have a campground on the river. Rath and I swung through here on our way north, but we didn’t stay the night. Too early in the day. The Inn is an iconic stop on the Route 66 tour. I figured we’d stop for dinner and talk to this Lang. We can decide to stay the night or move on.”

  “I’m so not in the mood for another dark, dingy biker bar. I, ahem, do not want to be escorted to the bathroom again.”

  He held in a laugh, imagining that lovely flush on her cheeks. “You didn’t seem to mind too awfully much.”

  She smacked his back. “Of course I minded! Pretending to have sex in a public restroom, with some guy lurking … it was …”

  “Freakin’ amazing. Admit it: you got caught up in it, too.”

  Silence for a few moments. “I was a good actor, that’s all. How can anyone get caught up in having sex in a place like that?” Another pause. “You got caught up in it?”

  “I totally forgot about where we were, the guy listening, everything but your lovely ass in front of me and the way you felt beneath my hands. And how you responded to my to
uch. Your body was hungry for it.” For me. He’d had no intention of touching her breasts, only appearing to. Then she’d made a soft mewling sound, and he’d gone with his instinct and obliged. She’d moved into his hands. He’d almost torn off her shirt and bra right there, but he restrained himself. Sense of honor and all that.

  “Look, I had to act horny,” she said. “So horny that I’d drag my boyfriend into a bathroom stall. Don’t get a big head over it. Either head,” she added, and he had to fight to stop from chuckling.

  “Sure, mami, you keep telling yourself that,” he said in Spanish.

  “All I understood was the mommy part.”

  He grinned. “That’s all right.” Did she really believe she was acting or just trying to convince herself? “Anyway, there will be no restroom sex here. It’s not a biker bar, per se, though it is popular with some of the clubs. Especially on a bike night in the summer. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  The thought of getting lucky with Mollie now held a whole different connotation as far as his head was concerned. The other head. He’d been trying to see her as a woman in need, even a client, and not sexually alluring. Which should have been easy, since she clearly didn’t want to go there. Then the thing in the bathroom had happened, and even though it hadn’t actually happened, it was a tease that dominated his thoughts.

  He needed to shift his focus back to her and her situation. She was a warrior, like him, but she was so damned alone. He couldn’t imagine his grandfather shutting him out like that. Couldn’t imagine not having anyone to count on, lean on. Julian had his SEAL brothers, men who shared the same values he did, and they meant as much to him as family. Knowing they would always have his back was golden.

  His heart had bled when she’d tried to make light of her enviousness about his big family. How callous he must have sounded to talk about putting distance between him and them. But he didn’t want to get into the nature of his family’s “businesses” with her. For once, he didn’t want to be associated with their criminal activities. He only wanted to be Julian Cuevas, proud Puerto Rican. A good guy who served his country and helped women in need.

  “Tell me about your dad,” he said.

  “I don’t know much about him. He left when I was four and Di was three. He pretended to go to work that morning but called Mom and told her he was leaving town. Mom said he was born in Huntsville, Alabama. I’ve thought about going there someday, seeing if I can find any of his family. But I haven’t mustered the courage to face people who might not want to meet me.”

  He turned, seeing only a glimpse of her. “You have more courage than some of the men I’ve served with.”

  “I’m not really all that courageous.” Her fingers tightened on his waist. “I can’t stand the thought of being rejected. I can see it in my mind so clearly, some aunt or grandmother closing the door in my face. Someday I will go there, but not yet.”

  Mollie was a woman who’d been rejected a lot. Let down. She would walk into hell for her sister, but she wouldn’t reach out to her father’s family. Wouldn’t date a guy worthy of her. Maybe it kept her from loving a man she expected to leave her, too. She was a beautiful mess, and damn, but he wanted to make everything right for her.

  They took the road leading into a wooded area and pulled up to the Devil’s Inn. It was a tangle of weathered-wood buildings covered in old signs. It was definitely a biker’s night; dozens of them lined up in front of the “Scooter Parking” sign. Off to the side sat several picnic tables in an area that was strung with white lights. He could see members of some bikers’ club crammed around the table closest to them. As Julian pulled the Harley around and parked in a strategic place, he saw their colors: a Christian club.

  The tension on Mollie’s pretty face dissipated as she took in the almost festive atmosphere—and the crosses on the bikers’ vests. They dismounted and hung up their helmets.

  “Same thing goes, though, for blending in,” he said.

  “Are you going to act all possessive?” Given the playful arch of her eyebrow, she didn’t mind the prospect.

  He grabbed her belt loops and tugged her closer. “Do you want me to act possessive?”

  She didn’t react for a moment, as though several responses warred to erupt. “If you need to,” she said at last, her eyes on his.

  He hoped he needed to. The urge to pull her closer and kiss her boiled up inside him. To wrap her in his arms and hold her tight. The way her pupils dilated and her lips softened, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

  Then she cleared her throat and stepped back, nervously shifting her gaze to the front door. “We should probably, uh, go in.”

  He slung his arm over her shoulder. “Doesn’t hurt to establish where you belong. With me,” he added, feeling the words reverberate through his body in a strange way.

  There went that slight blush again. She had the kind of complexion that showed every change in her blood flow. She’d been all kinds of flushed in the bathroom earlier. He watched her face now as they entered the joint. It was well lit, with wood floors and more signage on the walls. But she would find the ceiling decorations the most interesting.

  She stopped and stared up at the sea of bras hanging from nearly every inch of the ceiling. Every color, pattern, and cup size was represented.

  Julian leaned close. “If you donate a bra, you get a free shot.”

  Mollie splayed her hand on her chest. “I’ll keep my bra, thank you very much.” She was studying them, trying to read whatever the women who’d left them had written on the cups. She pointed to a leopard print one. “Di wore bras like that, and leaving a bra here for posterity would be so like her.” She squinted to read the writing. “Carol from Canada.”

  He watched her scout all the animal-print bras before coming back to him. “Nothing signed by a Di or a Birdy.”

  He pointed toward the back where one of the four pool tables was unoccupied. “There aren’t any stools open at the bar. Let’s go shoot some pool. Then we’ll see if that’s Lang tending bar.”

  He knew guys who shot pool with women for all the bending and leaning. While Julian had never been that desperate for an eyeful, he sure didn’t mind watching Mollie line up her shot. She took a long time in her effort to get it just right, and the modification of her shirt certainly didn’t hurt.

  She seem to have no idea how tasty-looking she was. He really wanted to enlighten her. She had a nice, curvy ass, a long, lean torso, and a set of boobs his hands were twitching to cup by the end of the game. When she ran her fingers up and down her cue stick as she waited for him to shoot, he could well imagine it was another stick she was stroking.

  “Why are you looking at me like you’re going to eat me?” she asked as she nudged him aside to take her shot. “You said you didn’t bite.”

  “I lied. I like to bite. And nibble. And lick.”

  She fumbled the shot. That was another thing he liked about her; she was unawakened. He could see in the way she reacted when he said things like that, and the awkward way she’d positioned herself when they’d simulated sex. She probably wasn’t a virgin, but he bet she’d never had hot, sweaty sex.

  And damn, he wanted to initiate her. But he needed to keep focused on their task. He sank the nine ball and took her cue. “Are you hungry?”

  She blinked. “You mean … for food, right?”

  He held back what he wanted to say. “Yes. Food.” He set their cues in the rack. “They have kick-ass barbecue here.”

  The scent of smoked beef filled the air. He settled his hand on the small of her back as he led her toward the bar where there were now two stools available at the end. She glanced up at the bras hanging overhead. Maybe he’d at least get her out of her bra by night’s end. Mollie definitely needed loosening up.

  The tall, thin guy at the bar was in his fifties, with an affable personality. And he did seem to know everyone. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully when he approached to take their order. “You and a buddy came in a few weeks b
ack. Redneck from Tennessee.”

  “You got it.” He angled his thumb at Mollie. “This is him. Got a sex change up in Chicago.” When Lang’s mouth dropped open, Julian laughed. “Kidding. I ditched him for my girl.”

  Lang barked out a laugh. “You had me on that one.”

  “You’re Lang, right?” Julian said.

  “Sure am. What’ll you have?”

  They ordered. Julian could tell that Mollie was dying to ask questions now that they had a friendly dialogue going, but she was following his orders—let him do the talking. He’d dealt with a lot of different people over his military career, and he knew how to time the interrogation. He’d also learned from their team’s interrogator, Risk. He always said you had to wait for the “soft point” or you’d lose the opportunity.

  His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of its holster. Rath, with the message: “Is this the girl?”

  Julian opened the message and saw a picture of Rath in some dive, cheek to cheek with a redhead, hamming it up for the camera. “Rath’s checking the bars.” He held the phone so Mollie could see it.

  She shook her head. “Looks like he’s having fun.”

  “Dude doesn’t have fun. He’s like you, all serious and ‘I’m gonna find the truth even if it kills me.’ ”

  “I don’t sound like that. Do I?”

  He laughed. “No, that’s more Rath and my bad imitation of his Tennessee accent. He’s probably on some supposed quest to get pictures with biker chicks for his Facebook page or Instagram or whatever.” He answered Rath and put his phone back as the food arrived.

  “Has Rath said anything about my car?” she asked. “We should probably be working on retrieving it.”

  “Why? We have the bike, and I don’t want to take the time to backtrack at this point.”

  “But I’m going to need it eventually. Chase can’t afford to fund this kind of investigation for long. I mean, I know he can afford it, but he’s obviously a smart man when it comes to money. Why should he do work without pay? Why should you?”