Chaos Bound (22 page)

Tank let out a relieved breath. This is why he respected and admired Jagger, would follow him no matter what. He listened, not just to a brother’s words, but also to his heart. He was firm but fair. And he cared about his brothers.

Tank’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out and checked the message from the unidentified number.

Watch the ten o’clock news. See you at midnight. Ella.

Ella? He hadn’t given her his number. Damn bitch must have been in his phone while he was asleep. How did she get past his security? He scrubbed his hand over his face. What else had she seen? And what the fuck was going to be on the ten o’clock news?

FIFTEEN

“I’ve never stayed in a place like this.”

Naiya toyed with the ring on her finger as Holt pushed open the door to the penthouse suite of the Conundrum Park Lane Hotel. For a man who professed to hate planning, he’d thought of everything. From ditching the bike to hiding the money and weapons, and from paying off the bus driver to make a pit stop outside of town so he could pick up their bags, to paying him again to drop them off in Conundrum.

“Me neither, but no one was complaining when I paid in cash.” He closed and bolted the door behind them, and Naiya drank it all in. Blending an Art Deco–inspired interior with modern luxury style, the room contained a massive, dark-wood four-poster bed, white-and-cream furnishings, period furniture, and a marble bathroom as big as her living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows took up an entire wall, framing the bright lights of Conundrum spread out below them.

“You can barely see the Bridger Mountains in the dark,” she said. “It looks like the lights just end, and then there’s nothing.”

“The Sinners’ clubhouse is right at the base of the mountains,” Tank said coming up behind her. “If you look real close, you might be able to see a light or two behind the trees. There’s nothing else out there except us, which makes it easy to catch anyone who comes near the clubhouse.”

Us.
Unconsciously, he still thought of himself as a Sinner. What would happen to him if he went through with his plan for revenge? Naiya’s life had always been about survival. No one had ever needed her the way Holt needed her. He was lost, alone, confused, and in pain. He was, at heart, a good man, and his plan for revenge—the crutch that had helped him survive in the dungeon—was now tearing him apart. He needed to hear the truth from someone he trusted because if he was wrong about Tank and the Sinners, he would never be able to live with himself. A protector who went against his nature would be destroyed.

“So the Sinners are based outside Conundrum?”

“Technically, we’re still in the border, and everyone understands that it’s our town,” he said, again unconsciously including himself when he referred to his club. “We’ve got a lot of businesses operating within the town limits—strip clubs, night clubs, restaurants, garages, bars…” He pointed to a collection of buildings near the center of town. “That’s Rider’s Bar. It’s a Sinner bar, and when the brothers aren’t at the clubhouse, that’s where they’ll be. Tank and I had our own table at the back. You only get that when you get appointed to the board. Tank called it a chick magnet. The girls were always hanging around those tables.”

Naiya looked back over her shoulder and huffed. “Not that I’m jealous or anything, but I’m not really interested in hearing about all your other women.”

“She’s jealous.” He pressed a kiss to her nape. “I like it.”

“You can like it alone.” She slid away from him and walked toward the bathroom, needing some time alone to think through what she needed to do. “I’m going to take a bath. It’s been too long, and I’m feeling too grungy to be in a place like this.”

“Good idea. I’ll join you.”

Naiya stopped him with a hand in the air. “You’re staying out here to watch the door. I feel like an imposter in this hotel in my dirty beaver shirt, with a duffel bag, a giant bag of cash and two bags of guns. I’m terrified someone is going to burst in and haul us out of here and throw us on the street, or worse, in jail after our little brush with the ATF.”

“Anyone comes through that door, I’ll shoot them.” Holt pulled out his weapon and brandished it at the door.

“That’s sweet in a fucked-up, outlaw-biker kinda way.” She pushed open the bathroom door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

After a long soak in the tub and a scrub with the most expensive toiletries she’d ever had the pleasure of using, Naiya joined Holt on the bed in front of a sixty-inch television.

“What are you watching?” She tightened the belt on her fluffy white bathrobe, giving serious consideration to adding it to their collection of stolen goods when they left the hotel.

“Nothing yet. Three hundred channels so far and nothing appeals.” He tugged on her belt and pulled her against him. “What do you like to watch?”

Naiya nibbled her bottom lip. “Um … you probably won’t be interested.”

“Tell me.”

“SyFy.” She buried her head in his chest and Holt laughed.

“Tank’s favorite channel. It’s fucking scary how much you two have in common. I thought I’d finally get away from being forced to watch shows about aliens, guys with pointy ears, and big-ass space ships. Let’s give it a go.” He flipped at rapid speed to SyFy and Naiya shrieked in delight.

“Oh. My. God. It’s a cult classic. The 1980 version of
Flash Gordon
. It’s so good, Holt. You’ll love it. It’s about a football player who goes into outer space and faces down a super villain named Ming the Merciless. It’s the ultimate in camp.” She snatched the remote from his hand and turned up the volume. So what if it was the ultimate in geekiness. Some pleasures were just meant to be shared.

“You weren’t even born in 1980.” Holt settled on the bed, tucking Naiya beside him, her head against his shoulder. “Neither was I, so I’m guessing the special effects are gonna leave a lot to be desired.”

They watched the opening credits, and Holt stiffened. “That sounds like Queen.”

“It is Queen. They did the soundtrack.”

“What a damn waste of good music.” He stroked her hair as if he knew she was about to rear up and lambast him for putting down one of the classic science fiction movies of all time.

“Shhhh. You’re ruining the mood.” She snuggled into his chest, toying aimlessly with his belt.

Holt shifted on the bed, his arm tightening around her. “You keep playing down there and the mood’s gonna change real fast to something that doesn’t involve some pansy ass prancing around. Seriously. That’s the hero? I could kick his ass in less than thirty seconds. Who talks like that?”

“It was the 1980s.” Naiya poked him in the stomach. “Now hush up. It gets better.”

But what got better was Holt’s reaction to the movie. Every few minutes, he huffed or snorted, interrupting her with his running commentary about the stilted way the characters said their lines, the cheese ball drama, the retro set design, the special effects, and … his favorite, the over-the-top costumes.

“A real man wouldn’t dress in red spandex,” he said laughing at Flash Gordon’s first costume change. “Anyone tried to put that on me and I’d shoot them.”

And then, after seeing yet another scantily clad woman—”Jesus Fuck!” he shouted. “It’s one fetishistic costume after another. I want to see you in something like that. Especially pink.”

Thoroughly enjoying his commentary, she wasn’t ready when he shot up, spilling her off his chest as he roared with laughter.

“Jesus Christ. What are the Hawkmen wearing?” His chest heaved, and his eyes teared. “I wish Tank could see this. I’ll bet he knows this movie. Next time I see him, I’m gonna give him fucking hell for not telling me about it.”

Naiya smiled, her pleasure at his laughter bittersweet. She wondered if he realized how often he talked about Tank, how Tank was still a part of his life. How much he loved him. He would never get over losing Tank, especially if he was the one to pull the trigger.

“What are you smiling about, aside from this disaster of a movie?” He pulled her up between his legs, her back to his chest, the bulge of his erection unmistakable against her ass.

“You,” she said. “I’ve never heard you laugh before. Really laugh. I’ll have to show you some more of my favorite geek movies so I can hear you laugh again.”

“Like my geeky girl.” His lips whispered over her ear, his breath warm on her skin. “And her comic-book hero fetish.”

Naiya glanced down at her ring, twisted it around her hand. “I never thought of it that way, but it’s true. My favorite heroes are from comic books.”

“What about me?”

She turned in his lap, slid her hands over his shoulders, her knees on either side of his hips. “If you put on a pair of those black leather Hawkman Speedos, you might just make the cut.”

With a low growl, Holt pulled her closer until she could feel the beat of his heart against her breast. “Pathetic earthling,” he teased. “No one can save you now.” He nuzzled her neck, and desire sizzled through her veins.

“I’ve created a geek,” she said with a laugh.

He cut her off with a kiss, his lips soft and warm, and his arms holding her tight. “You saved one.” His mouth moved over hers, and she gave herself over to the moment—the pounding of her heart, the ache between her thighs, the spiral of heat curled low in her belly.

Holt rolled them until she lay back on the bed. He straddled her hips and smiled. “Gonna see my soft, sexy geek girl now.” He tugged at her robe, pulling it open. “Gonna go slow and taste every last geektastic inch.”

Naiya froze when he bared her completely, her nipples beading as cool air rushed over her heated skin. “Maybe we should … you know … get down to business.” She didn’t do slow. Or soft. Or gentle. Sex was hard and fast and then over. It was about the act, not the feeling. Something to endure, not savor. And yet behind the bar, Holt had focused on her pleasure, and for the first time, so had she.

“Maybe I want more than business.” He traced a warm finger over the curve of her breast. “Maybe I want to see you, touch you, make you lose control and come over and over again until you’re so wet and ready for me you’re begging for my cock.”

“That won’t happen.” She’d never asked for sex. Never wanted it except to wash away Viper’s stain. And then it hadn’t been pleasurable. It had been necessary.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You should know by now I’m not one to turn down a challenge.”

“You’re not one to turn down anything.”

“Especially not when she’s all I think about,” he said.

Naiya’s cheeks flushed and she dropped her gaze, but there was something sinfully arousing about the fact he’d been looking at her, thinking about her that way when she’d been totally oblivious to his interest.

“Like it when you’re shy.” He cupped her breasts in his warm palms. “I like that my strong, independent woman is vulnerable inside. I like that she needs something from me.”

“I need a lot of things from you, it seems.” Her nipples hardened under his touch, and he rolled them, tugging gently until her breaths came in short pants.

“Just like I need a lot of things from you.” His hands slid down, and he traced one finger along the elastic of her panties. “I want these off.”

“Maybe I’ll just … keep them on.” She drew his hand away. “Or I could … look after you.”

“Then I’ll be missing the best part.” He leaned over and tore the panties away.

Naiya gasped and her hand flew to her hip, fingers splayed in what she hoped he took as a casual gesture.

But, of course, Holt missed nothing, and particularly not her attempt to hide the long, thin white scars, angled down to meet in the middle.

“What’s this?” Pushing himself to sitting, he tugged her hand away. Defeated, she looked away, a lump forming in her throat.

“V for Viper.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He did it after the tattoo so that every man would know I was his.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she’d turned off the lights like she usually did when she had sex to avoid the inevitable questions.

The bed creaked. She heard the rustle of clothing. A soft groan. And then Holt’s warm tongue on her stomach.

“H for Holt.” He licked the letter over her scar, and Naiya trembled, clutched the soft silk sheets in her hands.

“Don’t.”

“N for Naiya.” He licked again, and emotion welled up in her chest.

“Please, Holt. Stop.”

“B for beautiful.” This time he traced the letter with his lips, his breath warm on her skin.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, stroking his hair.

Sliding lower, he kissed her scar again. “M for Mine.” And then he slid down, kissing his way over the soft skin of her abdomen to her mound.

“Open for me, darlin’. I got more writing to do.”

“Holt.” She threaded her fingers through his hair, undecided about whether she wanted him to keep going or stop. She’d never let any man go down on her, finding the act too intimate, leaving her vulnerable.

“You’ve never been tasted?”

“No,” she whispered.

He paused, studied her, then he pushed himself up, dropped his weight over her body. “Let me taste you. Let me be the first one to give you that kind of pleasure. I’ll go slowly. I’ll be gentle. You hold on and stop me if I do something you don’t like.” Then he grinned. “But I guarantee that’s not gonna happen.”

The smile did her in. He didn’t smile often, but when he did his face lit up and she caught a glimpse of what she assumed was the man he used to be—the man he had been before Viper took him. Kinda like the girl she had been before that terrible night at the party. “Okay.”

His smile broadened and he slanted his mouth over hers, caressing her lips with his tongue. Such a gentle, tender kiss, as if they were starting all over again. She touched her tongue to his, wanting more than gentle, wanting the kind of kiss he’d given her before, hard and hungry and full of passion, but he pulled away. “I’ll start here.” And then his mouth brushed against her cheek, her jaw, down the column of her neck, his lips cool and smooth, the rasp of his beard deliciously erotic.

Naiya trembled, her body heating with every nip and lick. He moved carefully, sweeping down over her shoulder and then back up to her mouth, then down the other side, biting this time, a light pressure on the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder blade that made goose bumps rise on her arms.