Chaos Bound (16 page)

His hands lingered on hers, and or a long moment Naiya couldn’t move. She couldn’t believe he would hurt her. From what she’d seen of Holt, he didn’t seem the type. In fact, he didn’t seem the type to engage in the mass slaughter he kept talking about. Although he had suffered in that dungeon, at heart he was protective and caring. Revenge had been his crutch, and he couldn’t see that he didn’t need it any more.

“Holt?” She looked over her shoulder. He’d been distant since they’d stolen Leo’s bike and headed into the mountains. And after they’d filled up at the gas station, he hadn’t spoken at all. In fact, he threw out his pizza and hurried her out of the gas station only moments after calling her in, his face taut with what she could only describe as anguish.

“You’ll need to learn how to shoot.” His lips were only inches from hers, his breath warm and sweet. If she leaned up only the tiniest bit she could have a little taste.

“Okay.” She drew in a ragged breath, her body heating at the memory of his kiss back in the cabin, the slow glide of his hands on her body, the unfamiliar rush of desire through her veins.

“I won’t always be around.” A tremor ran through his body, and he clenched his jaw. “Even after Viper’s gone, it’s a good skill to have. Fighting, too. If you’re walking around at night, you need to know how to defend yourself.” His body tensed, his fingers threading through hers, forcing her to tighten her grip on the gun. His strength and dominance both aroused and frightened her, and her pulse throbbed between her thighs.

“I took a self-defense class at college,” she offered.

“What would you do if someone came up behind you like this?” He stepped closer, plastered his chest against her back, the bulge in his jeans pressed tight against her ass, his lips brushing her nape.

Arousal surged through her, a potent combination of fear and desire that pushed everything from her mind except for the heat of Holt’s body and the ache deep in her core.

“Drop the gun.” He released her hands and she let the unloaded weapon fall to the floor.

“Tell me, Naiya.” He circled her waist with one arm, held her so tight she could barely draw in a breath, his voice hard and low. “What would you do?”

She struggled for the memory, the training that had been drilled into her head when she and Ally had taken Doug’s self-defense class together. “I’m … supposed to step back.”

With his free hand he gripped her jaw, pulled her head against his shoulder, the gesture at once intimate and threatening. Arousal gave way to fear and she bit back a whimper.

“Let me go.”

He tightened his grip, holding her immobile. “I trusted you.”

“And I trusted you.” Anger surged through her, sending strength to her limbs. She lifted her knee and bashed her foot down on his instep, then elbowed him in the ribs where he’d suffered the worst of the bruises. She spun to face him as he doubled over in pain.

“I protected you. I looked after you. I trusted you, Holt, and you were going to shoot me. And now, I thought you were…” Her face flamed. “I’m done with this. Get your weapons and drop me at the nearest town.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he growled. “The Jacks are still around which is why the Sinners were up at Still Water. I saw Tank at the gas station. I should have fucking shot him when I had the chance, but I couldn’t do it.”

Despite her anger, her heart squeezed in her chest at the pain in his voice. God, that’s why he’d been so abrupt at the gas station. His best friend had been standing only fifty yards away. Except for her grandmother, Naiya had never had a real family, had never been part of something bigger than herself. What would it feel like to have it all ripped away? To have the people you cared about betray you?

“Of course you couldn’t. He was your friend.” She crossed her arms over her chest, clenched her T-shirt in her palms. “Maybe it wasn’t what you thought.”

“It was exactly what I thought.” The self-loathing in his voice sent a chill down her spine. “If it had been Tank missing, I would never have given up. Every minute of every day I would have looked for him. I would have told Jagger to fuck himself if he tried to stop me. I would have armed myself and blasted my way through the fucking Jacks’ clubhouse. I would have been happy to die if it meant he could be free. But he didn’t do the same for me. None of the Sinners did. No one had my back. I just gotta get it together. Get the job done without any distraction or worrying about someone stabbing me in the back.”

This was the Holt she’d seen down by the lake. Cold, determined, his eyes unnaturally clear. It was like a mask he put on that didn’t sit quite right, one that he didn’t want to wear. And it couldn’t hide his pain.

“If you really believed that, then you would have shot him, Holt. But part of you doesn’t believe it. That part held you back. He’s your friend, and you knew him well, so maybe deep down you know there’s a reason he didn’t come for you. Doesn’t he at least deserve a chance to explain? After what you had together, can’t you at least give him that?”

He took a step toward her, and she stumbled over the gun. Her body blocked the light from the window, casting him in darkness.

“Pick up the weapon,” he snapped. “I’ll fill the pack. Mad Dog left some cash with his sister, too. Viper’s cash. I put it in the boiler room out back. I’ll grab it and meet you here, then I’ll drop you off like you wanted.”

“I think that would be best.”

He jerked as if she’d slapped him, and then he turned and walked out the door.

*   *   *

“Hey baby, you lookin’ for a good time?”

Holt pulled his bike over to the side of the road and gestured the hooker closer. Except for the bright red dress and matching heels, there was nothing to make her stand out from the other prostitutes on the street, except that she happened to be standing near the traffic light when he slowed the bike. He’d dropped Naiya off at the nearest town and then headed into Missoula to stock up on supplies and do something about the fucking ache in his balls that just wouldn’t go away.

His stomach clenched, and he pushed away the memory of Naiya outside the cheap motel in Trenton, wearing her Bolton Beaver T-shirt, the red neon motel sign flickering on and off behind her. She’d refused to take the weapon he offered her or any of the money he’d taken from the Sinner cache, saying Ally had loaned her some cash to tide her over until she could figure out how to access her bank account without her ID. Her face crumpled when she said good-bye, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness he felt as he drove away.

By the time he’d reached Missoula, he’d thoroughly cursed his damn luck at always hooking up with people who abandoned and betrayed him. He resolved never to trust anyone again. After he got his revenge, if he was still alive, he would spend the rest of his life as a nomad, riding from town to town. Just him, his bike, and the open road.

“Man like you. Girl like me. I think we could find a way to spend the next hour that would make us both happy.” She slid her hand down his arm, her fire-red nails glinting in the streetlight.

Naiya didn’t wear nail polish. Or makeup. Or at least he thought she didn’t. He supposed she wouldn’t have dressed up to go to her mother’s funeral, and makeup wouldn’t have been her first priority once they were on the run. He couldn’t imagine her in makeup, not with that fresh, natural beauty. And damn, she’d looked beautiful standing in the kitchen at the cabin, her hair damp, feet bare, chilled and relaxed after fucking drugging him to save him from his own stupidity. He wanted to see her smile again. Hear her laugh. It didn’t make any sense. He’d only known her for a few short days.

“I’m doing a hot-guy discount tonight.” The hooker had a high, thin, childlike voice that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “And you look like a hot guy in need of some loving.”

Maybe that’s what he needed. These confusing feelings, unfamiliar emotions, were a need for release. He hadn’t been with a woman for over three months. If he just got back in the saddle, he would stop thinking about Naiya, and how soft she felt in his arms, and how desperately he wanted to unlock the passion he only glimpsed when he kissed her.

“You got a room?”

She smiled and flicked back her long, blonde hair. “Just down the street.”

Holt parked the bike and grabbed the packs. He wasn’t worried about the Jacks calling in the plates—bikers didn’t involve the police no matter what the situation—but leaving two bags filled with weapons on the bike was just asking for trouble.

He followed the woman to a low-rise, stucco apartment building and then up one worn flight of stairs. He dumped his bags near the door once they entered the bachelor apartment. Typical hooker hangout. Old, run down, sparsely furnished except for a bed, couch, and TV, no doubt owned by her pimp and rented out for use by his stable of girls. She reached for the light and Holt shook his head. He could see well enough with the streetlights shining through the cracks in the curtains. He wanted only one thing, and he didn’t need the reminder that he was getting it from the wrong girl.

“How much?”

“Sixty for oral with a condom. One hundred without. One hundred for sex with a condom. One fifty without. If you want something else it’s an extra fifty per act. You want me to call you ‘daddy,’ I’ll throw that in for free.”

Holt pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and threw three twenties on the counter beside him. Last thing he needed was her commenting on the marks all over his body. Naiya had given him the first-aid kit and instructions on how to care for his wounds, as if he would do anything about it. His groin tightened at the memory of her gentle hands on his body, and the soft press of her lips on his skin.

Fuck. Stop thinking about her.

“You want to sit?” She gestured to the bed.

Holt shook his head, his nose wrinkling at the sharp scents of sex and sweat in the claustrophobic apartment. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Now that he was here, he just wanted to get this over with.

“You look tense.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his throat, twined her arms around his neck. “I don’t bite.” Her lips curved up. “Unless you want me to.”

He slid his hands down her body. Christ she was tiny. Usually hookers that thin were druggies, forgoing food in favor of their next fix. He cupped her jaw, tilting her head back and his thumb slid through a layer of makeup, revealing a bruise on her soft, plump cheek. Too soft.

“How old are you?”

Her eyes widened, flicked to the ceiling at the corner of the room, then back. “Twenty-one.”

Naiya was twenty-two, and this girl looked much, much younger than her. He flicked on the light and stared at the smooth lines of her face, the rounded cheeks, the small perfectly white teeth nibbling at her lip. Then he looked up at the corner, spotted the camera. Her pimp was watching, protecting his girl.

Just like he should be protecting Naiya.

What the hell had he been thinking leaving her alone? The Jacks were in the area and Viper would stop at nothing to find her. A woman as beautiful as Naiya wouldn’t be able to hide for long. But more than that, he ached for her. Needed her. Maybe it was some kind of psychological shit since she’d helped him escape. Maybe he’d imprinted like a fucking baby chick because she treated his wounds, and looked after him. Or maybe she was the first woman he’d met who needed him—really needed him—although she couldn’t admit it. Broken. But still strong. Just like Tank had been when they first met. And just like Tank, she understood him in a way no one else did.

Unlike this girl in front of him.

Holt pulled the weapon tucked under his shirt behind his back. Before the girl could even gasp, he shot out the camera. When she shrieked, he slapped his free hand over her mouth to muffle her scream.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, streaking the makeup on her face. Christ. Now she looked her age. Like a kid playing dress-up.

“Any more cameras?”

She shook her head and Holt took his hand away. “You choose this life, sugar? Or were you forced into it?”

“You can’t interfere,” she whispered. “Davy will find me. He says I owe him for taking me off the streets. Last time I tried to run, he beat me so bad I almost died.”

“If you could get out, would you?”

Her eyes dropped and she nodded. “It was a big mistake. Huge. I ran away from home ’cause there was all sorts of bad shit going on, but I ran out of money, and I couldn’t find a job. Davy found me. He was so nice at first. I thought he loved me. And then he locked me in a room and…” Her voice broke. “This.”

“Where is he?”

Her eyes widened. “Two doors down.”

“Wait here.” He yanked open the door and strode down the hall. At the second door, he didn’t bother testing the handle. He just kicked it in.

A tall, bald dude with an ear full of rings jumped up from behind a table full of screens, pulling one hand out of his sweats while he aimed a high performance .357 at Holt with the other. Fucking pimp got off watching the girls. He was also making a lot of money off them considering the size of the duffle bag of cash on the table beside him. Holt didn’t waste any time. He shot the bastard in the chest, and blew out all the monitors.

Not one to waste an opportunity, Holt made a quick search of the apartment. Dude had some nice clothes, and they were about the right size. He’d left too much evidence at the lake and it was time for a change.

Holt stripped off his Bolton Beaver shirt and threw on a plain black T-shirt before stuffing a handful of clothes into the duffle bag, along with the cash, a box of ammo, and the pimp’s weapon. He kicked off his shoes and squeezed his feet into a pair of the pimp’s cowboy boots—fucking pointy toes. Christ. If Tank ever saw him, he’d never laugh it down.

He wiped down his weapon and rolled it in the dead pimp’s hand before dropping it beside him. One last check of the apartment turned up a worn leather jacket. If the cops ever traced the gun or any fibers from Holt’s clothes or shoes like Naiya said they’d could, they’d find Leo’s killer here—stone-cold dead.

He found the girl huddled in the corner of the hallway and pulled her up. “He won’t hurt you now, but we gotta go. You got a name?”