Stone Cold Bad Read online

  “Sorry, that wasn’t really a kiss. I was just smashing my face against yours so that those guys couldn’t see me. Thanks again for that.” I tried to sidle past him. He stuck his leg between my thighs.

  I sucked in a wavering breath. He caught my reaction. The truth was, it had started as an all-business kiss, it was the first thing I could think of when I saw Ray’s lap dogs coming toward the hallway. I hadn’t really noticed that the guy was incredibly beautiful until after I’d spun him toward me and pushed my mouth up to his. He had kissed back in a way that made me instantly melt in his arms. A skilled kisser with a face and body to match, always a lethal combination.

  His hand slipped beneath my skirt. I hadn’t seen it coming. The guy was bold as hell and with a hard edge that made him just that much more appealing. I stared unflinchingly at him as he rubbed his fingers across the crotch of my panties. A satisfied smile crossed his face as his fingers touched the moisture, the wetness he’d coaxed from me with his damn kiss.

  “See, now those wet panties tell me that it was a real kiss and a good one.” He leaned closer. He even smelled strong and tough like aftershave that had been made with leather and iron and musk. Whatever the heck it was, it made my head spin.

  He glanced toward the door. “I figure we’ve got a few minutes until those fools give up and leave this place. What could we possibly do to pass the time?” He pulled the crotch of my panties aside. I tried to squirm away from his touch, but he followed, not in a forceful threatening way but in a patient, persistent way.

  He kept one hand braced on the wall as he leaned toward me. In a gesture inconsistent with the dangerous, hard man in front of me, he pressed his free hand gently against my face. “You look like you’ve been through some shit tonight, darlin’.” He lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me. His fingers pushed past the crotch of my panties, and his callused thumb ran over my clit.

  I gasped against his mouth and wiggled away from his hand again. His fingers followed. “Shh, relax. I’m going to make some of the dark crap go away.” His fingers pushed inside of me. I grabbed his shirt for support as my body gave way to the feel of his hand between my legs. My breaths came in short spurts. An hour ago, I was fighting off vile Ray, the man who I’d lived with for the past three years, but here I was, standing in a utility closet with a complete stranger’s fingers jammed in my pussy, and I didn’t want him to stop. His skill with his mouth and tongue was rivaled by his talented fingers. He knew exactly where to touch and with just the right amount of pressure and attention. His thumb strummed my clit like a fine instrument while his finger fucked me with a perfect, solid rhythm that made my grasp on his shirt tighten.

  I rocked my hips to grind harder against his fingers. I was in complete delirium at the notion of this hot guy making me come in the center of a utility closet, and all while Ray’s minions were out scouring the parking lot for me.

  The man’s green eyes faded to chalky gray as his attention to my pussy seemed to be giving him erotic pleasure too. With solid determination, he teased my pussy bringing me closer and closer to climax.

  I was just a few strokes away and desperate to finish when the door opened. I should have jolted in alarm or shame but I didn’t. I was in a fucking trance. His fingers and the way he stared at me with those pale eyes held me captive.

  Another face appeared through the haze. It was a man equally tall and handsome but with darker eyes and lighter hair. His brother, I thought to myself as I continued to move against his hand. The green eyed man’s concentration had not been broken either.

  “Figures you snagged her before I could even introduce myself,” the other man said. “Nice.” He stared down at his brother’s hand between my legs. “And not a stroke missed, you dawg. Proud to call you my brother. Now finish this because Hunter needs us.”

  He was having a conversation and his brother was watching and somehow it didn’t matter. I was completely determined to finish this or die from disappointment. He was like a fucking pussy wizard. Magical.

  “Is Hunter in trouble?” my captor asked, without missing a beat.

  “Nope, but the guy he’s pounding is.”

  “I guess that’s fifty-fucking-three, you cocksure, sticky fingers pro. You’ve got this contest in the bag.” His footsteps pounded the cement floor and the door shut.

  I opened my eyes and gazed at the man. I didn’t even know his name, the beautiful man with the magical fingers. He knew my pussy better than me. My lips parted with an appreciative mewl, and he pressed his mouth against mine. “Come for me, darlin’. I want to watch your incredible face as your pussy clenches around my hand.”

  The dirty words pushed me right over. My fingers were white as I held tightly to the fabric of his shirt. I cried out as waves of pleasure coursed through my body. Slowly, he pulled his hand from between my legs. I collapsed against his chest and he held me. For a brief second, I felt safe, as if everything in my world wasn’t completely fucked.

  I was finally steady enough on my feet to stand straight on my own. “So, I was part of a contest?” I asked. “Number fifty-fucking-three? Does it always have to be in a utility closet or are there other exotic locations on the list?”

  He smiled. “Closet is optional. There’s a five hundred dollar pot, but—” He leaned closer and kissed me. “Contest or not, I would have done that. You looked like you needed it.”

  I reached up and pushed his long, black hair behind his ear. He had a sliver plug in each lobe. That, coupled with his size, mass of tattoos and black hair, definitely made him look like someone you would run from in a dark alley. Only I hadn’t run. I’d spread my legs for him with hardly a second thought. I hadn’t even minded when his brother watched. Had I been living such a dissolute life as Ray’s plaything that my modesty had been shaken completely away? Or was this man just that good? I held on to the hope that it was the latter.

  As I reached back to pull up my hood, my sleeve dropped down. My utility closet fantasy man took hold of my wrist and turned it to get a better look at the bruises Ray had left on my forearm. His face turned grim. As menacing as he’d looked before with his massive shoulder span, dark hair and silver-green eyes, now he looked positively lethal.

  “Which one of those guys did this to you?” The question slid from between a tight jaw.

  I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t them.” I pulled my arm away and pushed the sleeve down. I’d just let him bring me to orgasm, and I didn’t even know his name. I didn’t feel the need to expose myself any more to the man. He was just one stranger in what I figured would be a long line of them on my way to finding a safe place for myself. Although, I doubted that I would cross paths with many who looked like the stranger in front of me.

  He walked to the door. I could have asked his name, but it would be easier to forget him if I didn’t know it. He opened the door and peered out. The music had stopped, and only a few sounds rumbled up the hallway. They sounded like grunts of pain.

  He glanced back. His eyes were now pale gray beneath the yellowish light bulb hanging over the doorway. “I think if you keep up your hood and make a wide berth around the action in the center of the bar, you can slip right past the three goons. One is already face down on the ground, and my brothers are taking care of the others.”

  He flashed me a smile and walked out into the hallway. I yanked on my backpack, pulled the hood low over my head and ducked my face down. We stepped into the barroom just as Grady, one of Ray’s most loyal guards, pulled a shiny blade from under his coat. In one fluid movement, the handsome stranger grabbed Grady’s wrist and wrenched his arm painfully behind him. The knife fell to the floor along with Grady. The brother who had come into the closet was standing with his foot on Belkin’s head, another one of Ray’s watch dogs. He was reading text messages, looking bored, as another man, who was also startlingly handsome and even bigger than my closet lover, pounded a pig faced guy named Tuttle into ground beef.

  The other patrons stood at the far end
of the bar watching in awe as the three brothers destroyed Ray’s men. I slipped out the door and looked around. I needed to make a quick decision, so I could get out of sight.

  I headed toward the docks thinking I could hide out on a boat for the night. I could be up at the crack of dawn, before anyone came down to the marina. My feet sounded incredibly loud on the salt and wind weathered planks of the dock. I was halfway when I realized that there were other footsteps pounding the dock behind me. I twisted around and stumbled back.

  All I saw was the ugly lump on Ray’s head as he lunged at me and grabbed hold of my throat. The only thing he needed to look more rabid was foam frothing from his mouth. I was a dead woman. I couldn’t breathe. Panic set in as his fingers squeezed my neck, blocking my air passage. I backed up and he followed. Tears burned my eyes. I clawed at his arm, leaving long thin trails of blood as my fingernails took skin.

  “I was good to you, and this is how you repay me?” he sneered.

  The dark fog in my head was much blacker than the surrounding air. I was losing consciousness. My eyes darted toward the bar hoping to see someone come out. But the lights on the marina were shrouded by fog. It would have been hard to see two figures struggling on the pier.

  I had never been afraid of dying, but having Ray take pleasure in it was too much. I didn’t want to die by his hand. With my last bit of strength and clarity, I swung my leg up. It landed between Ray’s legs, and my knee slammed his balls. Before doubling over in agony, he shoved me hard.

  I coughed and gasped for air as I fell back. My head smacked the edge of the dock as I rolled into the water. Icy saltwater made me suck in a sharp breath again. My air passages were swollen. I desperately sucked in the cold night air, all the while trying to stay above the surface. The water swirled black and frigid around me. Somewhere in the fall, I’d lost my backpack. I heard Ray cussing from above. I ducked under the water and swam around the boats. The ocean was scary enough in broad daylight, but in the shroud of a foggy night, it was terrifying. I had to push away the idea that sea creatures with jagged teeth and long stingers were watching me from the shadowy depths.

  The lack of oxygen and the icy water slowed my arms and legs down as if I was moving through tar. Ray was stomping along the pier. I could hear him, but I couldn’t see him. I was sure the boats and fog were hiding me too. Gritty salt water smacked me in the face. I sucked some in and started coughing again. I covered my mouth to stifle the sound, but treading water with one numb arm wasn’t easy. I grabbed onto a rope ladder that was hanging off the back of a weathered looking trawler. My fingers were so numb, I could barely feel the rough rope beneath them.

  I was shivering so hard my teeth clacked together and my entire body shook. My neck ached as if it had been wrung out like a wet towel. If I hadn’t kicked the bastard in the balls, I would be dead, floating in the water, waiting to become fish food.

  Ray had been a handsome, charismatic twenty-four-year-old when he’d pulled me from the streets. I was a teenage runaway with no home, no money and no hopes of ever seeing my adult years. He was making good money at what I later found out was an illegal bookmaking business. But even when I had discovered his secret, it hadn’t bothered me. People weren’t being hurt or killed by his business. The only crime was people losing their money on crappy bets. I figured I was no one to judge. I’d had to do a lot of shitty things myself to stay alive. But it wasn’t long before I discovered the sinister side of Ray’s business, the ugly consequences when someone didn’t pay up. And as Ray’s business grew, his temper and propensity for violence grew with it. When the drinking grew out of control, I knew it was time for me to get away from him for good.

  I clung to the rope ladder, hiding myself beneath the shadow of the fishing boat. The choppy current smacked me up against the hull more than once, but I was almost too numb to feel it. A weird, sleepy feeling pushed down on my skull as if it was a heavy hand trying to shove me beneath the water. For a second, my eyes drifted shut. They felt too heavy to open.

  A splash of seawater in my face shocked me awake again. My body temperature was dropping. I knew if a stayed in the water, I would eventually lose consciousness.

  I’d lost track of Ray’s footsteps. The ladder hung off the side near the stern. I hoped the fog would cloak me enough. The thin cotton sweatshirt was amazingly heavy when it was soaked with seawater. My feet, still tucked in the boots and sloshing in their own pools of water, managed to find the bottom rung. With all my strength, I hoisted myself out of the water.

  I glanced around. A quiet boat marina was an eerie sight on a foggy night. The coast line was completely obliterated by the silvery haze. It felt like I was on a strange planet all by myself. Since they’d all gone to sleep for the night, even the usual clatter of seabirds was missing. I couldn’t hear any music or voices coming from Bootlegger’s.

  In my exhausted state of agony, my mind floated back to him, the man who’d dragged me into the utility closet. He and his brothers were pounding Ray’s men, men who were known for being ruthless and brutal. But they sure couldn’t stand up to the three brothers.

  I pulled myself onto the deck. The trembling was almost uncontrollable now. I stumbled around looking for something to protect myself with in case Ray spotted me. It was obvious he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he killed me. There was a metal tool box bolted to the wall below the pilot house. I opened it and reached in for the first thing I saw, a deadly sharp fillet knife.

  I walked around behind the pilot house, back to where the nets were piled. They looked surprisingly neat and new compared to the rest of the boat, as if they’d hardly ever been used.

  I scrunched down into a ball, shielded by the wall behind me and the pile of nets in front of me. Soaked through to the bone, I doubted I would be able to stop the shivering, but at least I was out of the water. I gripped the knife in my numb fingers and hugged myself tightly. The heavy, unnatural groggy feeling overtook me again. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

  Chapter 4

  Colt

  The rest of the bar patrons had stood by without interfering as we smeared the place with the three assholes. After one had said something harsh to the girls sitting with Slade, my mouthy brother had told them to go home and blow each other. That was all it took.

  Hunter had walked in just as Slade was being dragged out of the booth by all three of them. That was the beginning of a really bad night for those three. The other people in the bar seemed to know the guys, and no one had felt the urge to help them. It would have been the same for Hunter, Slade and me if we’d been at our local bar and someone had come in and beat the shit out of us. Of course, I didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

  The three men were about as wrecked as they could be, so we left the bar, figuring it was time to get back to the boat and back home. As we walked out of the bar, a man who looked vaguely familiar and who was holding his crotch and cussing as if someone had just kicked him in the balls, staggered past us. He seemed to be looking for someone.

  “If you’re looking for three pussies who think they know how to fight, head inside.” Hunter pointed back with his thumb.

  The man stopped to stare at us for a second and then hobbled inside with his sore nuts.

  “I know that guy,” Slade said.

  “He’s a bookie. I’ve used him for laying down bets on fights and football games. Haven’t used him for awhile. He’s a real suave piece of shit.” Hunter pulled out a cigarette. “Shit, my knuckles hurt. Is there still some ice in the chest?”

  “Probably. Speaking of ice, it’s cold as hell out here.” I looked around wondering where the girl had gone. It wasn’t a great night to be out. That’s when it occurred to me, the bookie must have been looking for the girl. He might even have been the one to leave the bruises on her arm. He was lucky he was already out of my reach as I put those little puzzle pieces together. I would have loved to have left his face print on the bar counter.

  “Visibility
is pretty bad out there,” Slade said. “You think the light is going to be enough in this pea soup?”

  I jumped onto deck first. “Should be fine because we’ll be the only people stupid enough to be out in pea soup.”

  Hunter hopped onboard and went toward the pilot house for ice. He stopped at the tool box. “Who left the tool box open?”

  “Wasn’t me,” Slade said as he untied the line from the cleat.

  “Don’t look at me,” I said.

  “Shit, my fillet knife is missing.” Hunter leaned down and fished through the box. He straightened and looked around. “Someone must have climbed onboard and robbed us. Good thing we got rid of our cargo before we stopped for drinks.”

  “We might be stupid enough to take the boat out with zero visibility, but if we’re ever stupid enough to leave twenty thousand dollars of cocaine on our boat while we slip into a bar for beer—” Slade started, but Hunter held up his hand to silence him.

  My gaze followed Hunter’s. A line of wet puddles led from the stern and disappeared behind the pilot house. I looked at him and he nodded. Slade climbed onboard. The three of us rounded the pilot house ready to take on our stowaway.

  A small figure was huddled down in the shadowy pile of nets. The person didn’t move or flinch, even with our heavy footsteps making the deck creak. I walked over and kicked the bottom of the person’s shoe.

  Our stowaway jumped up with a gasp of terror. The sharp, gleaming blade of the fillet knife arced around as she swung her arm wildly at me.

  I leaned back away from the tip of the blade and then snatched the girl’s wrist. “You’re going to hurt someone with that thing, darlin’.”

  She kicked toward my knee but missed. The sudden movement had pushed the hood from her sweatshirt off her head. Her light blonde hair nearly glowed white in the weak moonlight.