Blood and Honor (17 page)

“I’ll bring the van around and find someone sober to drive it.”

“Thanks, Wince.” Trish smiled, but the dark circles beneath her eyes hinted at her fatigue. “Dax. Good luck.”

“I’d tell you good luck too, darlin’, but you don’t need luck. I mean that. You got this in the bag.”

“I hope so.”

It was one of the strangest interactions Wince had ever been privy to. Exhausted, he headed to his bunk and fell onto the bed. He could deal with his gifted and cursed brain tomorrow.

***

Alanna was beyond fucking pissed. Wince had promised her an audience with Dax, and now his old ass bitch of an ex shows up pulls rank? Fucking slut. They were in there for almost two hours, doing shit knows what—with Wince standing guard like a little bitch the entire time.

Finally, the door had opened and Dax had walked into the hall. Holy Jesus, just staring at the man made her cream herself a little. She hadn’t forgotten how tall and built the guy was, but now, if possible, he was even hotter. Tanned, with sun streaks sending shocks of white through his messy blond hair, Dax looked like a sexier version of his own damn self.

Jesus, it was hard to keep her attention on her A-game. Some groupies had managed to get their bozo friends into the clubhouse—they claimed a distant affiliation and their ink was enough for the grunt at the gate to let them in.

“Fuck.” The expletive slipped out and the guys she was currently fleecing at the pool table followed her gaze.

“Got it for the VP, too, huh honey?” The shorter of the two grunts laughed.

“Hey, if you want to start at the bottom, you can suck my dick tonight.” The other guy offered.

Alanna didn’t think—she just reacted. The pool cue came up fast and hard between the second guy’s legs. The sound he made started out like a roar but ended with a high-octave screech.

“You fucking bitch!” The first grunt yelled. He grabbed the pool cue and yanked her towards him but she let go and he fell back against the pool table.

That was all it took to create a situation.

Men poured in from the yard and fists started flying. When a bottle flew through the air, missing her by mere inches, Alanna dropped to the floor and crawled to the hallway. When she reached it, she got up and booked it to Hawk’s bunk. Reaching it, she slipped inside using the key he had given her and locked the door. Heart pounding, she listened to the dull thuds and yells in the main room.

A slow smile broke out on her face as the melee continued. For some reason, she felt powerful. In charge. The way she would feel when Hawk was out and Dax was in—and that girl and her brat were out of the way. Okay, maybe brat was a harsh term, but helping Sirena was nothing but a means to an end—and the end was Dax Jamison.

He’ll see what I have on Hawk and then, I’ll own that gorgeous man.

Alanna took off her carefully chosen outfit and turned on the shower. After a soothing cleanse, she climbed into Hawk’s bed, nude. Oddly, the background noise soothed her to sleep.

She dreamed of Dax. She was always dreaming of Dax…

Chapter Thirty-Seven

After what seemed like an eternity of travel, there were now only a few hours to go. Mickey’s mind became more and more jumbled the closer she got to Darling. Though she tried to ignore them, the flashbacks were becoming pretty constant. For some reason, she connected Darling with what had happened to her mother—almost more than she associated her hometown on the other side of the damn country with her sins. She had run to Darling to escape.

But she had only found another layer of her personal hell.

Mickey shifted in her seat. Her ass was numb and she wished her mind would follow suit.

Strategize, girl!

Planning took the edge off and gave her just enough semblance of control to keep her from freaking the fuck out.

I’ll need to be incognito here—more so than ever before.

She had no idea if the Devils would try to exact retribution for Dizzy’s death and the shitstorm she had caused. Plus, there was the very real chance the Darling cops were also on the lookout for her. She needed to get to Rhee, warn her about the man who haunted her nightmares, and get the fuck away before she brought death to everyone she cared about.

Everyone I love dies.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to accomplish her goal, but repeating the mantra kept her from falling asleep. Mickey put her hand through her knotted hair and knew it would have to go. She needed to change everything about her look. It was something she should have done a long time ago. She had jacked a few different boxes of hair coloring kits during their last refueling stop. Mickey had perfected the five-finger discount years ago.

Blond or black?

I’ve always wanted to be a blond.

The bus stopped. End of the line. Mickey suppressed a shudder as she slung her heavy backpack over her shoulder. There was a seedy little motel a few blocks down the road. The cool air tickled her cheek as she walked. The movement did her good, pumping blood into her stiff limbs.

The motel was as she expected. The old man who checked her in barely gave her a second glance; his eyes were glued to an old television set.
Jeopardy.
It reminded her of Ruby, and she chased away a tear.

The room was cleaner than she expected and she was surprised to find that she could actually see herself in the bathroom mirror. Mickey extracted a pair of scissors from her bag and with a heavy sigh, went to work. A few hours later, she was pushing all of the motel furniture against the door in her standard barricade, the musty air feeling strange against her bare neck.

In the morning, she woke with a scream in her throat. Mickey gulped stale-tasting water from the faucet in the bathroom. Her eyes found her reflection in the mirror and she didn’t recognize herself. It was a shock at first—like meeting a stranger.

Then, she realized that being a stranger wasn’t a bad thing at all. She could be someone else. Maybe—just maybe, after this was all over, she didn’t have to be Michaela Blake any longer. Like she had done with the nametags that sat in the drawer at Ruby’s diner, she could create her own new personality—one that had no memories.

None at all.

The notion was strangely exhilarating.

***

The night Mickey had finally done it started off like any other night.
Her mother went to work—the late shift.
Paul chased away any lingering doubts with the drunken commentary he directed at her from his spot on the couch where he nursed yet another beer.

“Ready for an encore, baby girl?
Fuckin’ smarter than all of ‘em, ain’t I?
Got your little party on video, baby.
He’s madder than shit, but he wants you again.
Gonna pay me double too.
Fuckin’ gonna buy me a new car, first.
Maybe a Rolex…”

He went on and on but she only heard the two words that echoed in her head.

Never.
Again.

Mickey swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and busied herself in the kitchen.
When he wasn’t hurting her, he was yelling at her to clean up after him and when she didn’t it just made him angry.

Finally, the sounds of loud snores began to emanate from the old couch, the disgusting video he had been watching echoing moans throughout the house.
Mickey switched off the offensive movie and waited a few seconds to see if her stepfather would wake up.
His only response was a grunt and a fart.

The man was a pig.
He was a pig with an appointment in the morning—one she knew he couldn’t miss—with a parole officer.
He wasn’t happy about it, but Mickey knew Paul would attend the meeting to keep the guy from coming to the house.

Another snore interrupted her frightening thoughts.
Nothing would wake the man now.
She was as ready as she was going to be.
She’d studied and practiced and she was confident that she could do this thing, and do it right.
Quiet as the childhood nickname her real daddy had given her, Mickey crept outside to the garage.

Then, she cut the old Buick’s brake lines with errorless precision.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

When Hawk finally woke, it was late enough to be considered morning but it was still too damn early for a rude awakening. Alanna woke to the low sound of the man’s voice as he spoke to someone on his cell.

“I have what you need. Yep. Same place, same time.”

He pressed the end button on his phone and tossed it onto his desk with a sigh. Alanna peeked at him from beneath her lashes, wishing she could have heard more of his conversation. He was totally the rat at the table. The Phantoms’ own president! The nerve of the guy—after everything the club did for him.

Even though she missed her chance to get to Dax last night, Alanna was determined to get to him today. Hawk had some meeting to get to so the timing would be perfect. Alanna feigned sleep as he headed into the bathroom. She heard the shower turn on. He was in there a good long while.

Maybe he’s jerking off.
God, I hope so.

When he finished in the bathroom, Alanna braced herself for his presence in bed, but he surprised her by leaving without giving her his customary squeeze on the ass.

She put her pillow over her head and pretended that Dax was lying next to her. Her fingers crept between her legs. God, the man was a stallion and she longed to be mounted by him, like a bitch in heat.

Soon, her suffering would all be worth it.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

It was a rare occurrence that Rhee woke up before Sirena did, so this day was already starting off different than most. Rhee blinked sleepily as her eyes adjusted to the morning light shining through the divide in the curtain. At first, she thought they were alone but then she spied Dax, who looked far too comfortable than he had a right to be, spilling out of the armchair in the corner.

About a day’s growth of blond stubble scattered across the stubborn jut of the man’s chin. She wanted to rub herself against it. Rhee looked from Dax to Sirena, noting the similarities of their facial structures. There was no doubt that he was her daddy. Her gaze went back to Dax, sliding over his broad shoulders to his long legs and then back up again to his face, peaceful in slumber. It was the only time he ever truly looked relaxed.

Especially since they’d been back in Darling.

Her eyes wandered over every delicious inch of him before moving back to his face. This time, Rhee found his mouth twisted into a wry grin and his intense blue eyes fixated on her.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his voice still husky from sleep.

Rhee giggled and then slapped her hand over her mouth before whispering back, “Definitely.”

She made a point of checking out the bulge in his pants—as obviously as she could. Dax Jamison was the horniest bastard alive, according to, well, himself. Rhee had no one else to compare the man’s libido to. But one thing was pretty consistent: Dax woke up painfully hard—every single morning.

She was only too happy to accommodate Dax Jamison’s needs.

Rhee licked her lips, knowing the effect that little gesture had on him. She smiled to herself as his breathing hitched and his eyes darkened. Taking care to avoid jostling the bed and thereby waking Sirena, she made it to the floor where she began a slow crawl on all fours. She reached his legs first. He was wearing a pair of black track pants.

Easy access,
Rhee thought, as warmth pooled in her belly.

Of course, this was neither the time nor the place for making love. Well, maybe the place was okay, Rhee thought, as sinful memories invaded her mind. Rhee glanced at Sirena. She was still asleep and her little body twitched the way it did when she was sleeping hard. A rush of power surged through Rhee as she crawled under the black and white throw blanket across Dax’s lap. Time for a personal challenge.

I’m going to make him lose his shit in five minutes flat.

She slipped her hand into his pants, finding Dax sans boxers, as usual. God, he was already so hard she could feel his pulse beating frantically in the underside of his impressive cock. He cleared his throat as she wrapped her hand around his hot, hard organ, reveling in his low growl.

“Don’t wake the baby,” she admonished softly, pleased when he silenced himself in response.

It was warm beneath the blanket and his smell engulfed her. Rhee took a deep breath in, exhaling purposefully directly over his balls. Dax jerked and then his hand came down swiftly, to cover her own as she gripped him. His other hand went behind her head and he urged her forward.

Teasingly, she rubbed her lips over the head of his cock but refused to admit him inside her mouth. He jutted impatiently against her. She sent the tip of her tongue out to taste the dewy drops that were starting to form on the head of his cock. He tasted of salt and earth and…Dax.

Finally, she gave him what he wanted. He was like steel encased in smooth, hot velvet. Rhee loved the feeling of him, as he grew harder in her mouth. From what she had heard, some women didn’t like giving head. At first, due to her lack of experience, she was hesitant. But, there was a curious power exchange that occurred during the act—one that Rhee discovered she loved. It was just too damn good and the growling sounds coming from low in his throat were driving her crazy. Her panties were positively soaked and she could smell her own arousal.

Rhee sucked the head of his cock deep into her mouth and circled it with her tongue. His breathing quickened. Abruptly, she pulled off of him, reveling in his pained groan. Dax pressed his hand against her the back of her neck, thrusting his raging cock back towards her face. She resisted for a minute, enjoying the feeling of being in charge.

Being in control set off an uncontrollable quenching in her core. Rhee’s insides liquefied as she allowed him to push himself deeper. Rhee moaned around the hot, hard flesh that invaded her throat, and was rewarded with a tingle of salt on her tongue.