Driven to the Edge: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance (12 page)

I
’m a good girl
. I’ve never even been drinking at a biker bar before.

But here I am, drinking at a biker bar with a hit man and his biker friend, after breaking into a casino and navigating through an armed standoff.

It’s been a big weekend. A three gin-and-tonic weekend.

Vin, Jake’s big mountain of a man friend, approaches us at the bar and waves up toward a rickety set of stairs. The dive we’re staying in, I haven’t quite figured out its name, but it’s chock full of tan, weathered bodies in leather and a real shitty band is playing in the corner. There are neon signs along the walls, a pool table in the corner, and oddly enough, it serves great Mexican food.

I could almost get used to this.

“There’s only the one room!” he calls over the din of the bar. “But you guys are welcome to it for as long as you need! Eloise can stay in my trailer; I’ve got a spare room.”

A trailer away from the bar itself is probably the best place for a child in this place.

Vin palms a key into my hand, then waves and wanders off. I hop down off my stool, eager to explore our new lodgings.

They’re nothing special: a big saggy queen bed, some ridiculously ugly lamps, a lot of fringe, and a big mural of a screaming eagle that takes up an entire wall. There are no windows.

The room isn’t anything special, but Jake and I put it to good use. Almost immediately.

The second we’re inside, Jake shuts the door and slams me up against the wall. This has been building between us for so long the pressure’s almost to the point of a full-on eruption. I gasp, groaning needily as he forces himself between my legs. My Oscar De La Renta dress rides up my thighs. He slips a hand between my legs, palming my mound through my panties.

I’m already shaking for him.

Maybe it’s leftover adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that we both lived through it all. Maybe we just want to feel alive, to feel like we’re still a part of the world.

I want him like I’ve never wanted anything else. My body needs him, aches for him like air.

Crying out as he sends kisses up and down my shoulder, I throw my head back. I let him ravage me, his lips and teeth and tongue worshiping me. Each touch is a reminder of everything we’ve gone through, everything we survived.

He palms my breasts through the dress, but he doesn’t take the time to take it off. Strong hands ripping at my underwear, he slides my panties down my legs and reaches for his fly immediately. I untuck his shirt, clawing at it ‘til I hit bare skin.

I need to feel him against me. It’ll keep me alive.

Jake spreads my thighs and lifts me up, holding me beneath the arms. He positions himself beneath me. I can feel the tip of his thick, hard cock pressing against my entrance already. We’ve skipped the foreplay entirely but that doesn’t matter. I’m so wet, so ready for him. I can’t stand it.

“Please,” I gasp into his mouth. He lowers me down. I sink onto him, impaling myself on him, easing slowly down until I’m utterly, deliciously full of him.

We stay that way for a moment, joined as one. It’s more intimate than our previous couplings.

It’s more intimate than anything I’ve felt in my entire life.

Groaning giddily, I begin to rock atop him. He rocks his hips in time with mine. Soon we’re moving as one, each of his thrusts slamming me hard against the wall. He jackhammers into me roughly, his thick length almost too much for me to take, but with each thrust I adjust to him more and soon he’s slamming into me roughly each time.

I don’t care if we put a hole in the fucking wall. I need this.

As he fucks me hard, he pressed his palm to the front of my sex, rubbing at my clit, the friction overwhelming. I cry out, burying my face in his shoulder. He groans, excited by the sound of me, and doubles his efforts.

Grunting with each heavy, forceful thrust, Jake pins me up against the wall, holding one wrist over my head. He suckles on my neck until bright purple bruises form, taking as much of my body in as he can. His breath begins to grow erratic. I can tell he’s close. His thrusting grows less rhythmic but more intense.

He slams his palm down on my clit, all but grinding it.

I scream. I feel him begin to release inside me.

I hope the band playing downstairs drowns me out.

I come so hard I almost pass out.

We make it to the bed. Eventually. Toppling over onto the mattress in a sweaty heap, my four-thousand-dollar dress undoubtedly sullied, I take a moment to just breathe.

Jake grabs me, hauling me in against his chest. I curl there willingly, bathing in his heat.

My head nestles perfectly in against his shoulder. I nuzzle there, press in a chaste little kiss.

“Alicia,” he murmurs. I love the sound of my name when he says it. He says it like it’s a flavor he enjoys.

When I don’t reply, he says it again. I thought he was just saying it as a term of endearment.

“Hm?”

He rolls me onto my side, peers down at me with those deep, almost reflective eyes. Like the finest brandy, something sweet to drink for dessert.

“I’m sorry for getting you involved in all this.”

I actually roll my eyes.

“You did it in a bad way, yes. But it was for a good reason.”

“Vin can arrange a ride back to LA whenever you want it.”

That causes my heart to skip a beat. I hadn’t thought about coming home at all. How would I explain my absence? How would I explain... a lot of things? I hadn’t given it a moment’s consideration.

Because I know in my heart I don’t want to go home.

What is there to go home to? Debt, work, trying to rebuild the remnants of a photography studio that everyone’s already moved on from?

“Does it have to be LA?” I ask, after a thoughtful moment.

Jake blinks.

“I suppose not. Where would you rather go?”

I roll onto my stomach, folding my hands together. I rest my chin on them and gaze up at him, studying his face. Even just looking at him, I want him even more. My body throbs for him whenever he’s not touching me.

I couldn’t go home. In just three days, Jake Hawthorne has crawled so deep inside me that I can’t imagine letting him go.

“Where are
you
heading next? Maybe I’ll tag along.”

The way his eyes light up when I say that lets me know I’ve made the right choice.

I
can’t believe it
. She wants to stay.

In a short week, I’ve gone from feeling like I had nothing left to being the luckiest man alive.

And it’s all because she convinced me that maybe, I’ve got a future after all.

As Alicia dozes off in my arms, I hold her tight against me. I’m done with the dangerous life. I’ve got enough money to last us both through to retirement age. Probably pay for Eloise’s college too, since that’s what her dad would have wanted.

I gather Alicia against me, listening to the slow throb of her heart as she drifts off to sleep.

I’m done with the dangerous life, but I’d kill in a heartbeat to protect her.

Vin offers to help us with the necessary arrangements, for a fee of course. It comes to over twenty grand altogether: new passports, an itinerary out of the country. He points us toward Texas, hooks us up with a dark green Ford Explorer. It’s a mom car through and through, but the cops won’t look twice at it.

“What about your Maybach?” I ask Alicia as we’re getting ready in the parking lot. She’s helping Eloise into her jacket.

“It’s not mine,” Alicia says.

“But you won’t miss it?”

“Jesus, of course I’ll miss it.”

The Maybach idles dormant in Vin’s garage. I thought for sure it’d be destined for the chop shop, but Alicia insisted we return it to her old employers. They’d done nothing wrong, she said. They were good people.

So one of Vin’s guys will take it back. Along with her handwritten notice of resignation.

It makes sense: if she disappears, that’s one less face the police will be on the lookout for.

I know I’ll be on the run my whole life. I don’t think there’s a statute of limitations on murder.

Which is why we’re headed to Texas. From there, we’ll grab a boat. And from there, maybe Mexico. Maybe further south. There’s a lot of world out there and I haven’t seen most of it.

I slide the bag down off my shoulder, the surprise I’ve been keeping for Alicia since Augustine’s.

“Hey,” I say, approaching her. Alicia looks up. The sun catches her auburn hair, which falls in gentle waves around her face. I reach out and brush a strand behind her ear on impulse.

“If we’re going on a road trip, you should have a camera. I hear you’re actually a pretty good photographer.”

I had the extra lenses leftover in our hotel room sent out this way, then ordered up a replacement for the camera she abandoned in the casino. It’s all packed up in the bag on my shoulder.

When she opens it, her eyes shine. Just about with tears.

She throws her arms around me and we almost drop the thing.

I
’m gently stirred
awake by the slow lap of waves against the yacht’s hull. Slowly, more sounds filter in: the distant caw of gulls. The lengthy, sprawling mattress is tangled with white sheets, nice and cool against my skin.

For a moment, when the sun shines through the door, the whole world is golden. It’d make a great photo, but my camera’s on the dresser.

As usual, Jake’s out of bed before I’ve even woken up. But I’m used to that. Most mornings, he’s fishing. Or talking excitably to our Captain, learning the ins and outs of sailing the big wooden beast we now call home.

The yacht’s an older model, all classy, high-gloss wood. Its interior is also bigger than my old apartment in Echo Park. I slip my silk day robe onto my shoulders and knot the belt, then walk out onto the deck, enjoying the feel of cool deck under my bare feet.

At first glance, I don’t see Jake or Eloise anywhere. Or Gilbert, the Captain. But this isn’t unusual. We’re anchored off the coast of a small town near Ciudad Del Carmen. We’ve been slowly sailing our way down the Gulf of Mexico, leaving the searching eyes of the United States government behind us.

We’ll settle down soon. We have to get a tutor for Eloise, after all.

Just as I’m convinced my new family is out and about town, I hear a girlish giggle from the rear of the boat.

I’m still learning all the boat terms. Pretty sure they’re near the stern.

Sunlight streaming through a thin, gauzy layer of clouds hits my shoulders and neck, warming me as I pad along the deck.

At the aft deck, Jake and Eloise are engaged in what appears to be a very serious fishing lesson. Jake’s got his rod all ready to go, but Eloise is watching, mortified, as he threads a worm onto her hook.

When he spears the worm onto the hook, she squirms, letting out a shrill groan of disapproval.

“That’s horrible!” she shouts, condemning him.

“It’s alright,” he assures her. “They can’t feel pain.”

I don’t know if that’s true or not. But I nod in unison with Jake as I approach.

“Uncle Jake’s right,” I say. “They can’t feel pain. They’re just fish food.”

I stroll over and lean in, stealing a kiss from Jake, just a quick peck on the mouth. He reaches up to embrace me, but I duck away, robe fluttering around my legs.

“I just saw your worm fingers. Nice try.”

Jake leans forward, wiggling his fingers in my face.

“Aw, come on, I’ll wipe them on your robe.”

Groaning, I elbow him in the ribs, then leave him be. I hurry over to Eloise, then stoop down beside her. She’s lost interest in worrying about whether the worm is suffering. Now, she’s looking over the edge into the clear blue water, watching the ripples slap against the hull of the yacht.

I can’t believe the life this poor girl has had. First losing her mother, then her father. Jake was the only thing she had left.

I feel a pang in my chest. I look up at him reflexively.

Nothing can erase the things Jake has done. I know he used to work for some real bad men. I know he used to hurt people. But I also know that everything he did, he did for Eloise. The men he killed at Isobel Towers, the trail of damage we left across the desert… it was all to ensure Eloise’s safety.

That’s what Jake is, at his core: he’s a protector. First for Alain, now for Eloise and me. I know without hesitation that he’d kill for me if he had to.

And if those men from Vegas ever come for us, maybe he’ll have to. But for now, making our way slowly southward, that’s not a concern. We’re mobile. We’re nomadic. Each day blends into the next: sunshine and grilled fish and sailing lessons and reading with Eloise.

We’ve got a little map of the world in the cabin. We’re going to tick off the countries as we sail past. Jake let me in on his finances, explained the accounting business he used to run with his little brother. We’re going to be in good shape for a very long time.

Sometimes, I wonder how Val is doing. I think about my old job, remember cleaning out cars for the Touring Club, holding open doors for the rich and famous, for the world’s elite.

I wasn’t made to be a servant like that.

Neither was Jake. We’re alike in that way.

I lean against the rail, watching Jake help Eloise cast her hook. This close to the harbor she probably won’t catch anything, but she’s all smiles. It’ll keep her occupied.

Jake’s so good with her. He’s patient, slow, understanding when he has to be. He helps her cast her hook over the rail, then slowly let the line out. She holds tight to the rod with both hands as if terrified a fish will yank it away at any second. Jake laughs, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

I can’t help it. My heart melts. Worm fingers or no, I lean in and sling one arm around him. Jake’s so big I can’t even side-hug him all the way, but he bends down and presses a kiss to my hairline, inhaling deeply when he does so.

“I love you, Alicia Brennan,” he whispers in my ear. It sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.

I’m not Alicia Ference yet, but that’s only because we don’t know what country we’re going to end up in. We may as well wait until we settle down and know the local marriage laws, right?

While Eloise is occupied with her fishing pole, Jake casually slides his hand up one of my legs, fingers playing over my skin just at the hem of my robe. I reach down and snatch his hand, weaving our fingers together.

“Ooh, that was the worm hand,” Jake admits. I groan in dismay.

Then he bends down to kiss me again, winding both arms around my waist. He lifts me just barely off my feet, an easy feat for someone so strong.

The gulls call out overhead. I feel like I’m flying, too.