Without Limits: Austin (Rugged Riders Book 4) (5 page)

“Finally,” he murmured into my hair. “I’ve got you now, Valerie. And this time, I’m not letting you go.”

“
N
ice view
, isn’t it?”

I spun around when I heard Austin’s voice. I hadn’t even realized that he’d come back in the room.

“I’ve never been to a casino hotel like this. Actually, I’ve never been to a casino at all.”

“I’ll have to show you around once the place clears out in the morning,” he said.

“So, you really own this now?”

He nodded. “Co-owner. I’m not really into running an operation like this, but I didn’t want to sell it so I called on some partners to help me out.”

“And the private jet that brought us here?”

“I kept that, of course. It’s mine.” He grinned, and then added. “I had almost given up on tracing my uncle’s business dealings, but I’m glad I did. I just wish we could have taken what was ours years ago.”

When Austin became the executor of his uncle’s estate, he’d traced the man’s connections all the way back to the casino, which was once owned by the Clark family. Somewhere along the way, Austin’s relatives had lost the business after falling on some hard times. With a little help from other angel investors working with Austin, he was able to save the place from being bought up by unrelated investors.

“You deserve this. This is your family’s business and you get to build it from the ground up again.”

“You think all of these material things make me happy, Valerie,” he asked, closing the short distance between us.

“If you’ve worked to earn it, you should be happy. You worked hard to get everything you’ve ever wanted. You left some things behind, but you also grew in the process and you never lost sight of who you really were. I wanted to say it changed you, but it didn’t. I can see that now. I wish I was there for you.”

“You are now and I’m grateful for that.” He leaned in and brushed his thumb across my bare shoulder.

“Yes, I’m here for you,” I said.

“Me too. And I’m not going any where. I finally know what happiness really is and it all starts with you.”

W
hen Zaira's
father does the unthinkable and hires a professional gambler and self-made millionaire to take over the finances at Svelte Technologies, she is less than pleased. On top of that, Zaira is forced to work with him. Her temper isn't the only thing growing hot when she can't agree with him. They were friends before until he scandalized and ended a marriage with his womanizing ways.

D
espite Trent's
bad boy reputation, Zaira melts under his heated stare when they're in the same room together. Yet, she refuses to let him play her like a game of cards. Her world gets complicated when she’s taken by temptation. Zaira will need more than book smarts to successfully escape a rogue.

Z
aira’s laughter
flowed toward Trent like a magnet, and he paused near the open glass pane doors to listen before following it inside the house. Aside from the partying, BBQ, and open bar, hearing Zaira’s voice had to have been the best moment of the block party. Actually seeing her would be the icing on the cake.

Trent hadn’t crossed paths with the beautiful vixen in several months despite how much Marcus and Tanya talked about her. Somehow both he and Zaira always seemed to pick opposite days of the week to visit the couple. Or was she avoiding him? It had been too long since he last saw her, and Trent wanted to hear Zaira’s beautiful voice up, close, and personal.

Right now he didn’t care if she refused to give him the time of day. If he could only have one moment to acknowledge that she was doing well that would make his night. Hell…he couldn’t even figure out why she kept giving him the cold shoulder anyway. What had he done to make her stay far away from him?

As he entered the home, he didn’t see Zaira right away, but there was no mistaking that she was here. Trent grabbed a beer from the bar and looked around the room. There were about a dozen or so people inside celebrating as well but the ambiance was a lot more intimate than the area around the pool. The women outnumbered the men, but usually that was the way the brothers of Rugged Riders rolled. Especially on a night like this. This date marked the day of a new member’s initiation into R.R. It didn’t matter how trivial the occasion was. If there was an excuse to celebrate with women, booze, and food, there almost always was a gathering. They were a close-knit circle of brothers, commonly connected by blood or friendship—and sometimes both. R.R. was a family he’d always been proud to be a part of.

A football game was being aired on the big screen television in front of three rows of theatre-style seating. The guys were getting riled up in their seats, yelling at a piece of plasma. The NFL season was in full swing and they all had their favorite teams to root for. Trent could conclude from the rolls of cash on a table nearby that there was live betting going on. Although betting was his fortay, he was in pursuit of something greater.

On the other end of the basement was another wet bar where the cocktails and mixed drinks were being served by a couple of bartenders. Trent had not too long spoken with Drew, who’d recently inherited the mansion. Coincidentally his friend was the one who’d just been initiated. Amidst all the excitement was a pool table, but the active game was not what caught Trent’s immediate attention.

As soon as Trent spotted Zaira in the room, there was not one person or thing there that could’ve swayed his attention from her. He hadn’t expected her to be here. She almost never attended any events anymore, not even the one’s where her father had been the host.

Zaira Wright was bent over the pool table with a cue in her hand as she positioned herself to hit the ball. There were other spectators hanging around with cue sticks in what appeared to be a group game. It didn’t surprise Trent that the center of attention for the few R.R. brothers standing around the table was Zaira’s fine ass in a mini-skirt. He had this instant urge to barge in and snatch her away from roving eyes—an urge that he dispelled quickly given the circumstances.

Zaira made a clean hit, striking one ball, and sending two others into separate pockets. Two women standing off to the side cheered her on and they gave each other high-fives.

Zaira turned around and held her palm out to Nathan, a Texan R.R.. “Pay up.”

Nathan chuckled and pulled out his wallet. “You’ve got good aim.” He put several bills in Zaira’s palm.

Zaira was always up to something whenever she did attend the R.R. parties.

“You’ve got good cash too.” She inspected the bills and then stuck them into the waistband of her skirt. “I proved you wrong. I nailed them both, so what else do you bet I can’t do?”

Zaira was known for getting kicks on trying to prove someone she was right or that someone else was wrong. She liked to be in control and from what Trent knew about her, this trait got Zaira her way lots of times…and it also got Zaira in trouble lots of times. Her father definitely had stories for days about her run-ins with the authorities and the like.

“Finish the game. Nail them all,” Nathan said. “I bet you can’t do that.”

Zaira gestured toward the table, a perfect eyebrow arched high in challenge. “Put your money down.”

Nathan hesitated for a while until the two men behind him began to tease him. He took out a fresh twenty and laid it down on the corner of the table.

Zaira doubled over in laughter. “Are you kidding me? You’re gonna have to come better than that. Bet your whole wallet.”

Trent watched Nathan’s confident grin disappear, but with the other R.R. brothers urging him to put the entire contents of his wallet down to appease a woman’s challenge, he took the bait. He dropped his wallet on the edge of the table.

In that moment, Trent looked up and his gaze locked with Zaira’s. Her eyes sparked instant recognition and something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint. She wore the perfect poker face as she sized him up.

Trent took the opportunity and did the same. The flattering black mini skirt was not what attracted Trent to Zaira the most. He’d always had this infatuation to learn her from the inside out. It wasn’t a matter of if she would surrender control to him, but it was a matter of when.

But first, he wanted to witness her game plan on the pool table. Trent gave her a nod to greet her silently, twisted the cap off his bottle, and let the cool beer slide down his throat. He lowered the bottle after a few swallows only to find her still glaring at him while chalking her stick.

He winked. Zaira’s mouth parted slightly and her eyes were a bit glazed.

There were half empty cocktails lying on a table next to her lady friends. Right away he could tell that she’d had a little too much to drink. As Trent thought about it, her actions
were
out of the norm. Sure she was saucy, controlling, and challenging, but last time he was with her she hadn’t come off as the loose type. Had something changed or did she just need to lay off the cocktails for the rest of the night?

Her lips turned up in a slight grin and her eyelids fluttered downward before she diverted her gaze away from him. With a seductive sway of her hips, she picked up a cocktail, took a long sip, and prepared for her next shot.

Trent wasn’t sure what this strange feeling was or what it meant. This warm thrill ran through him every time he saw something he wanted and intended to have. Even if it took all the determination in him, he would have what he wanted. There was also some other temper running through him and as he looked at the men who threw appreciating glances at the vixen posing and bending over the pool table ready to strike, he pinpointed exactly what it was. He wanted to be the only man in Zaira’s life.

He didn’t just want her once or twice. He wanted Zaira for himself without limits, infinitely. Biting at his bottom inner lip, he willed himself to cool this possessive streak down—at least for now.

It took Zaira less than five minutes to clear the table, pick up the guy’s wallet, and collect all of his cash. This feat didn’t surprise Trent either—after all, he was the one who taught her to the play a mean pool game in the first place. He couldn’t help but to smile, feeling proud of her win.

The three women she apparently came with surrounded her, cheering her on once again. One of them had a round of shots on a tray and each woman took their turns indulging. Behind Trent, Nathan’s crew taunted him about losing all of his money to a woman.

Trent was beginning to feel like a spectator to an outside party he wasn’t invited to, but then Zaira lifted her gaze once more to meet his. He felt a little better knowing that she had, in fact, acknowledged that he was there. He couldn’t keep her eyes off her, not even if he tried to. Right now, it was virtually impossible. Her laughter, her voice, her body, and even her competitive nature drew him in.

So when Zaira turned, took a step in the opposite direction, and began to stumble, he couldn’t help but to intervene. When he caught up to the group of women they were still boasting about Zaira’s win. When she leaned against the wall in what looked like an attempt to gain her composure, her friends moved in to hold her steady.

“Ladies…” Trent moved in to help them hold Zaira upright. “I’ll take over from here.”

A blonde beauty turned around the looked him up and down. “Oooo,” she exclaimed. “We were just leaving, but do you mind helping us all out?”

The women giggled and whispered amongst themselves, and then another drew closer to him. “Yeah, we might just stay for a little while longer if you do.”

It seemed that they were either tipsy from their drinking game or halfway to drunk—or maybe just pretending to be. On any other day, Trent would have indulged them. But not on this day…

Trent’s gaze toggled back and forth between Zaira and her friends. “Who’s driving?”

“I am,” one of Zaira’s friends stepped forward with a set of keys. “You coming with us?”

“No, ma’am. Thanks for the offer, but I got my own ride,” Trent said. “Excuse me, ladies.” He turned toward Zaira who hadn’t said a thing. “I need a word with you.”

“What about?”

“About Svelte. Can we talk alone?”

Zaira looked at him apprehensively. For a moment, he thought he saw a hint of concern marking her face at the mention of her father’s company.

“Damn, Zaira. You told us you were single and looking. What gives?” one of Zaira’s drunk friends said from behind. “You said you hadn’t had dick in m—”

“—Pam…geez…” Zaira ran her fingers through her ponytail and bit at her bottom lip—something she always did when she was embarrassed. “Trisha, give me a minute. I’m going to that new joint with y’all, so don’t leave without me.”

“Are you all right?” Trent asked when her friends were out of earshot.

“Yeah.”

“But you’re drunk.”

“I only had one drink. I’m not that drunk. And if I was, then what…?” Zaira put her hands on her hips. “I came to party, eat, and drink. I’m not driving, I’m not causing problems, and I’m minding my own business. You’ve got issues with all that?”

“I do.” Trent moved in closer. “You can barely walk and are in no position to go bar hopping.”

“We’re going to
one
bar after this. That hardly constitutes hopping.”

“You’re already slizzard. If your friends hadn’t held you up, you would’ve been on your pretty little ass,” he said.

Perfectly groomed eyebrows arched downward. “Is your name Loyd Wright, by any chance?”

“Last time I checked my ID, it read Trent Byron Stone. What’s your father got to do with this?”

“He gave me my last orders at seventeen years old,” she retorted.

“You told me once that I was the closest thing you had to a brother. I’m just looking out for you,” he replied.

“There’s a difference between giving me orders and looking out for me.”

He breathed deeply, taking in her exotic scented perfume. “I’m a little confused. I thought you loved being on the receiving end.”

She shook her head. “What?”

Trent chuckled. “Do you like to give or receive?”

Zaira gasped and straightened her back against the wall. “You’re twisting my words around. Again. You’re good at that, aren’t you, Trent?”

Her face was so close to his and he whispered, “You know what else I’m good at? Detecting a lie. You’ve had more than one drink.”

“Look, you told me you wanted to talk about something. What is—”

Zaira swayed again and this time he pressed his body gently against hers to keep her upright. She pressed her palm against her forehead. “I guess that last shot did me in.” She chuckled nervously.

“How many did you have?”

“Three or four.”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” he said.

“Trisha is our designated driver tonight and they’re ready to go.”

“They’re ready to go to a bar and you will not be going with them. I take care of my own and those of my R.R. brothers. Your father qualifies and I’m responsible for making sure you get home safely.”

Zaira’s body grew lax against his. She pressed against his chest and held onto the front of his shirt for support. “Oh…”

“What in the world did you drink?” He lifted her chin to glance at her face.

“I drank too much of the Crown. Okay, I admit it. You happy now?”

“Zaira…”

She pursed her lips in defiance. “I haven’t enjoyed a night with my girls in forever. So, save it.”

“So, what’s it gonna be? Are you gonna willingly let me drive you home or are we going to cause a scene?”

She grabbed onto his forearm. “I need some water and then I’ll decide.”

“Fine. Here’s an empty seat.” He gestured toward a side chair near the wall. “Just stay right here and I’ll come back with water.”

“Mmhmm, just hurry,” she said, as she slumped down in the chair and pressed her palms to her face.

By the time Trent had grabbed some bottled water, found her friends and convinced them that he was sane, not a criminal, knew her parents, and would get her safely home, Zaira had leaned against the chair and had apparently passed out. He wasn’t amused at all, but at least this ensured her protests about calling it a night were kept to a minimum.

He scooped her up and headed toward the door to his ride. As soon as the fresh night air hit them, she came to.

“Trent?” she murmured against his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Yeah…that’s me.”

“You smell good.” She breathed in deeply, eyes still closed. “You taking me home, right?”

“Of course.”

“Do you want me?”

Trent halted abruptly. He had to pause to look at her for a moment, to make sure that those words actually came from her mouth. She’d spoken the words, but he reminded himself that she was intoxicated.

“Yes, I want you,” he replied.

“Perfect,” she whispered. “It’s time to break a record.”

He almost stumbled over a landscape rock as he crossed the huge front lawn to get to his ride. “What record?”