Thrill Ride Page 4

  “You did?” I ask in surprise.

  “I’ve fucked her whole little wine club, every single one of them, and then you come along, and I turn into some goddamn fool who would rather have the sting of your rejection than another woman’s body underneath me.”

  God, his words…in another place or time, if the two of us were nothing but a man and a woman without the secrets, I probably would have already fallen into bed with him. But both of us are hiding who we really are, and I can never, ever be with Hendrix, no matter how much part of me might be tempted.

  “For what it’s worth, Hendrix, I don’t want to keep rejecting you,” I tell him honestly, then open the door and hop out of his truck before I say too much or cross a line I can’t come back from.

  Chapter 7

  Hendrix

  “What color?” I ask as part of my daily torture ritual as soon as I sit down in my usual booth at Harper’s. I have to hurry because it’s Saturday so Van and Sawyer will be here soon, and this isn’t something I want to share with them.

  “My hands are full. I’ll come back,” Libby says, hoisting up the tray full of food another inch like I hadn’t noticed it. If it were up to me, she would be at home in my bed right now with me rubbing her feet instead of working in this shithole ten hours a day.

  When those sort of cohabitation thoughts started swirling around my head, I don’t know. I’ve never brought a woman home, much less had one move in and live with me. It’s absurd to even imagine such a ridiculous thing.

  How ironic is it that I would give almost anything for just one night with her when one night is all I’ve ever wanted with everyone else I’ve slept with?

  It’s been four long, lonely weeks, and at this point, I’m starting to realize my fantasies of being with Libby is all I may ever fucking have with her.

  That depressing thought is why I blurt out, “Hold on just a second,” before I reach out and dip my fingers into the waistband of Libby’s jeans without asking her permission. Dammit, I have to touch her, any part of her, even if it earns me a smack across my face.

  When I look up at Libby, she’s not scowling down at me. Instead, she’s looking around the bar to make sure no one sees my hand down in her pants. I feel around her smooth hip bone longer than is necessary before I finally hook my finger in the elastic warmed by her skin and lift it.

  Pink. Bright fucking pink.

  The fabric slips away from me with a light slap against her flesh when she takes a step back.

  “Happy now?” she asks.

  “Very,” I say as I reach down to adjust my cock when it starts swelling down my pants leg. Libby’s eyes follow the movement of my hand under the table, knowing exactly what I’m doing and why.

  “Pervert,” she mutters with a grin before she walks away.

  Van and Sawyer arrive a moment after she’s gone.

  “Don’t tell me you’re still chasing that waitress’s fine ass,” Van says when he slides into the booth to make room for Sawyer to follow.

  “Some things in life are worth being patient for,” I tell him because I have to hope that, one of these days, Libby is going to break. She all but said so the other night when she told me she didn’t want to keep rejecting me.

  “And fucking a waitress with big tits is one of them apparently,” Sawyer mutters one second and the next, I’m on my feet and reaching across the table for his throat.

  “Watch your fucking mouth,” I warn him.

  “Jeez, chill, man,” Van says, grabbing my arm to try and pull me off Sawyer.

  “You’re distracted,” Sawyer spits out.

  Letting his throat go, I sit back in my seat. “No, I’m not.”

  Leaning forward on his forearms, Sawyer whispers, “We’re less than a month away from our last hit and after two years, you aren’t even close to being ready.”

  “Dammit, Sawyer,” Van mutters. “Now I’m gonna tell you to watch your fucking mouth. We don’t talk about that shit in here.”

  “Is that what you talk about with your little waitress?” Sawyer asks me.

  “Of course not,” Van huffs, answering for me. “How about everyone calm down and have a beer?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be ready to go when the time comes,” I assure the guys. “Just relax and calm the hell down.”

  “If you say so,” Sawyer grumbles.

  “I do. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m in charge here.”

  “Then act like it,” he responds. “You’ve been making us do all the fucking afterhours shit because of her, haven’t you? Are we gonna have to pick up more of your slack when the time comes?”

  “Have I ever fucked things up for us?” I ask, rather than admit that he’s right. I’ve piled more work on them so that I can stay here at the bar and wait to give Libby a ride home when she gets off work.

  “No,” he eventually huffs.

  “That’s right. So just sit back and shut the fuck up.”

  Chapter 8

  Libby

  “I’ll go put your bike in the truck while you close up,” Hendrix says when he slides out of his usual booth.

  “You don’t have to wait for me,” I tell him, just like every other night lately when Jodie leaves early and makes me close up because I’m the new girl.

  With a stubborn look on his face that tells me he won’t budge, he says, “Libby, it’s pouring rain out. I’m not going to let you ride home in that mess.”

  Rather than argue with him that I could have Carter come and pick me up, I simply nod in agreement and head back into the kitchen to make sure everything is turned off.

  Once all my chores are done, I slip into the ladies’ room to wash up and yeah, maybe primp just a little. What I see in the mirror isn’t promising. I’ve been on my feet, serving food and beer for eight hours, and look like complete shit. I never thought I would ever miss riding up and down empty streets.

  “About time.”

  The sound of a man’s voice has me jerking my head back to the now closed door…where an older, brown-haired man with a unibrow is standing in the corner.

  Oh shit, it’s Lester.

  The shock of seeing him standing in the woman’s bathroom quickly falls away and turns to fear when I spot the revolver in his hands. One that’s currently pointed straight at me.

  “Wh-what are you doing in here?” I ask as I start walking backward, putting as much distance as I can get between us in the small space until my back hits the concrete wall.

  When he reaches up with one hand to slide the lock across the bathroom door, no further explanation is needed. I’m trapped in here with him with no weapon around and no possibility of escaping.

  Hendrix even warned me a few days ago that Lester was a registered sex offender, and apparently not a recovered one if he’s armed and has me locked in the bathroom with him.

  “Take off your shirt,” he says with a flick of the gun muzzle toward my top. “Let me see those titties you’re always flaunting in my face.”

  I shake my head in refusal before the word slips from my trembling lips. “N-no.”

  “Yes.” He pulls his thumb back on the hammer of the gun as if to further emphasizes the demand. “Do it. Now.”

  If I scream, would Hendrix hear me in his truck out in the parking lot, with the rain pouring down around us? Probably not, but I’m ready to take that chance when a loud BOOM erupts. A bullet whizzes right by my ear and burrows through the wall behind me.

  Holy shit! The lunatic almost shot me in my head!

  “I won’t miss on the next one,” Lester warns. “And even if you’re dead, your body will stay nice and warm long enough for what I have in mind.”

  Oh my god, he’s deranged. And the worst part is, his pale blue eyes are flat, with no remorse or concern, making me certain he’s not bluffing. This man won’t hesitate to kill me in a heartbeat if I don’t do what he wants. Even if I do, he may still kill me! My options are a little limited and I’ve never felt such a horrible sense
of helplessness before.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  With no other options, I don’t have to be told twice. My shaking hands manage to yank my t-shirt over my head.

  “Oh yeah,” he mutters as his eyes leer at my chest. “Bra next.”

  While I’m reaching around my back to try and release the snaps with trembling hands, he comes closer. “I’m gonna fuck those big tits first and then come all over your pretty little face.”

  The picture he paints is so repulsive that just thinking about him touching me anywhere nearly makes me heave.

  I take as long as I possibly can fidgeting with the bra snaps until he yells, “Hurry up!”

  Finally, I flick the last snap then let the straps fall down my arms. My bra hasn’t even hit the floor when Lester reaches down to lower the zipper on his jeans.

  He doesn’t get more than a ten-second look at my bare breasts before the bathroom door splinters open, the sliding lock worthless against the burst of pressure. There’s another much louder BOOM that quickly follows, echoing around the white bathroom that’s suddenly painted a deep crimson…

  I start screaming when I realize the new paint job is blood. Glancing down, there’s so much of the still-warm liquid on my naked chest and arms, I’m certain I must have been shot. It’s hard to know for certain where because I’m so completely numb I can’t feel anything at the moment.

  “Libby.”

  My eyes lift at the sound of Hendrix deep, calming voice. He’s standing in the doorway, taking up the whole space and looking every bit the part of a superhero.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks as he comes a step closer.

  “I-I don’t know,” I respond while holding out my blood-stained arms. “Am I? Am I? Because I-I can’t move.”

  There’s a thump as Hendrix tosses down the big gun in his hands. Then he steps over Lester so he’s in front of me. His strong hands rub up and over the warm blood on my arms while his eyes carefully examine me. His palms come to a rest on my shoulders and finally, I meet his dark gaze that’s searching my face with concern.

  “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  “I am?” I question because it doesn’t seem like I’m okay. Right now, I feel like I’m in a dream, or a nightmare—one where I’m underwater and paralyzed so I’m going to drown because no matter how hard I try, I can’t make myself move a single muscle.

  “Let’s clean you up,” Hendrix says. When he removes his hands from me and turns away, a whimper escapes my lips at the loss of his comforting contact, fairly certain he’s the only reason my head is still above the rising flood waters.

  I try to take a deep breath but then, after Hendrix steps away from me to wash his hands in the sink, I get a straight-line view of Lester lying face-first on the tiled floor in a puddle of blood that’s rapidly growing.

  “Hurry,” I tell Hendrix as I back my heels up against the wall, wanting to get out of here before that blood reaches my shoes. There’s already enough of the substance on my upper body and splatters on my shorts.

  When Hendrix returns, he wipes the side of my face first with a wet rag and then the other before lowering to my neck. The cold dampness makes me shiver.

  “Sorry,” Hendrix says. “I’ll make this quick, and then you’ll need to take a shower as soon as you get home.”

  “Home?” I repeat, barely noticing as the rag cleans my bare breasts because he’s doing it so methodically.

  “Yeah,” Hendrix responds, his eyes lowered as he works, full lips frowning. “I’ll take you home and then come back to clean all this up.”

  “Clean all this up?” I repeat, finally starting to snap out of my daze. “Why would…why would you…clean it? We have to call…the police!” I barely catch myself from saying Carter’s name.

  Hendrix’s dark eyes snap up to mine, his expression turning severe. “We’re not calling the police.”

  “What? We have to!” I tell him.

  “Libby, there’s a dead man lying on the ground and I killed him,” he replies.

  “But…but it was self-defense. You saved my life.” I stare up at him, my expression panicked. “He was going to kill me, Hendrix! I could see it in his eyes. He was either going to fuck me and then kill me or kill me and then fuck me. I don’t think he was picky about the order either,” I blurt out in a rush.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you tonight, but we are not calling the police,” Hendrix says more sternly before he turns, giving me his broad back to grab more towels, telling me he won’t budge on the issue. Facing me again, he says, “Swear to me, Libby, that you won’t tell anyone about this. Ever.”

  “I-I won’t,” I whisper my agreement because the righteous serve-and-protect law enforcement officer I used to have in me has suddenly disappeared in a puff of smoke. That feels like a different lifetime ago, before I was almost a victim. There were no good guys here to save me tonight. No, that was Hendrix, and I owe him my life. How could I screw him over when he’s the reason I’m still breathing?

  Hendrix’s eyes drop to my chest again, his brow furrowing as he scrubs at a spot between my breasts. A cool drop of the excess water from the towel runs down to my belly button, making me gasp.

  “Sorry, I’m almost finished,” he mumbles as he swipes the towel over my stomach. He goes over my arms and then the front of my shorts before tossing the towels to the floor near the dead man. “That’s the best we can do for now.” He bends down to pick up my bra from the ground, then holds it out, waiting for me to put my arms through, so I do, trying to ignore the new splattered stains on it. “Don’t forget to shower as soon as you get home.”

  “I know. I heard you the first time,” I tell him as I turn around so he can fasten my bra for me since I seriously doubt I could manage it on my own right now. I have to say, never in a million years would I have imagined Hendrix Blake would be redressing me like a child in the bar’s bathroom with a dead man on the floor. I can’t believe I was ever squeamish about kissing him when now, he’s seen me shirtless and covered in another man’s blood.

  Once my bra is back in place, I turn around and Hendrix eases my shirt over my head.

  “Your shirt looks clean, but I’ll give you a coat from my truck to cover up, just to make sure.”

  “Okay,” I agree as I slip my arms in the cotton. Once it’s on, Hendrix continues to stare down at me.

  “Can I trust you?” he eventually asks.

  Swallowing around the sudden knot in my throat, I tell him, “I won’t say anything to anyone about this.”

  It’s the best I can promise him with regard to my trust.

  He gives me a nod that says he believes me, even though he shouldn’t.

  The case, the investigation, it all feels like a distant memory after having my world turned upside down.

  Before I open my mouth again and spill my guts to Hendrix, I throw my arms around his neck in case my face betrays my thoughts.

  “Thank you,” I whisper to him.

  Hendrix’s strong arms wind around my waist, holding me tight to his hard body. And when he doesn’t immediately pull away, I can’t bring myself to either. Right now, when it feels like the last five minutes have forever changed my life, I need comfort that only he can give me—his warmth, his caramel apple scent, just him holding me.

  The two of us stand there like that for how long, I don’t know. Hendrix’s steady breaths tickle my hair and I get lost in the rhythmic thump of his heart beating steadily against my chest.

  When I turn my head to inhale more of his masculine scent, my lips part, brushing over the column of his neck, making them tingle with the taste of his salty skin on them.

  That’s when Hendrix finally lets me go and steps an arm’s length away.

  Clearing his throat, his voice sounds deeper than usual when he says, “I should get you home.”

  “Yeah,” I agree, even though oddly enough, it feels like I just left the only home where I’ve ever felt completely safe.

>   Hendrix

  I’m so fucking furious at what that disgusting son of a bitch was going to do to Libby that my head feels like it’s going to explode. And even worse, I know if I hadn’t gone back inside when I did, he would’ve touched her.

  Driving her back to her apartment, my knuckles are white from the grip I have on the steering wheel just thinking about what could have happened if I had been a few minutes later, or if I hadn’t stayed to wait for her at all…

  It’s almost like the universe has been planning this night all along, since the day we met, drawing me to Libby in a way I’ve never felt about anyone before to make sure I would be there for her when she needed me.

  When I pull up and park outside her apartment complex, I grab a Blake Heating and Air coat from behind her seat and offer it to her. “Cover up with this and then discreetly throw your clothes in the dumpster tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Libby responds softly, staring straight ahead, but she doesn’t make a move to put on the coat. Just seeing the profile of her beautiful face glowing in the light of the streetlamps steals my breath away.

  How many times have I dreamed of being with her, undressing her, and now I’m pretty sure the only way I’ll see her whenever I close my eyes is frightened and topless with an asshole’s blood covering her smooth, creamy skin.

  The rain saved her life.

  I came back into the bar to remind her to bring an umbrella. That’s when I heard what could only be a gunshot, followed by a man’s voice yelling, “Hurry up!” I knew he had to be talking to Libby since she was the only person left closing up the place. At first, I thought maybe he was in the back, robbing her, a criminal like me. But then, I couldn’t find her until I saw the bathroom light from the crack at the bottom of the door.