Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC (10 page)

I should run
, she thought as she followed him back across the street. But where would she go and how far would she get on foot? And the cops? She didn't need a second lesson in how little they could help her against the rich and powerful.

So she trailed after him into the roadside bar, where very little sunlight filtered through the windows, where only dedicated drunks came to hang out in the middle of the day.

She slid into a stool next to him and said, "You're buying."

His gray eyes blinked with amusement. He was too young to be one of her father's close associates.
As if they would do their own dirty work
. This guy was someone's assistant. Dressed as he was in an expensive suit, she guessed he was new at this part of the job.

"The daughter of Glenn Moore can't afford much anymore, can she?"

"Do I know you?" There had to be some reason for his spite. "Who do you work for?"

"Don't you worry about that. Call me Colin." He waved bartender over and was deliberately ignored.

"Your sister knows you're looking for her," he said, pretending the snub hadn’t happened. "One of the... dancers told her."
I only met that one girl. Valentine?
"I got to her first."
Or he’s lying
.

"What did you do?" Senna asked, swallowing.

Colin cocked his head. "You've been hanging around these gang members too long already. What did you think I was going to do, break her arm?" Senna shrugged. "I bought her out."

Senna blinked. "What?"

"She's already in the air, on the way back to New York to sign the papers."

"I thought you wanted our inheritances. Whatever Glenn left us in his will."

"No one will ever see a dime of that," he said, shaking his head, "He left you his shares of his company as well. To put it bluntly, I want them."

She shook her head. "And the threats?" They were the whole reason she'd fled.
"Return what your father stole." "Give the money back or pay another way." "Give the money back or your sister will pay."
That last one was the reason she'd finally left when she did.

"I'm not the only one who wants it. You're of no interest to anyone once you sell."

"Why wasn't I told any of this? Our lawyers..."

"Paid off by multiple parties in a race to get to you first." He stood and leaned over her, his arms trapping her there as he gripped the edge of the bar behind her. "You're in over your head here, Miss Moore. Running was the right thing to do, but now that I've caught up, it's time to stop. I'm just the first. The real thugs will be next. Some will be sent by my boss, but more will be sent by other interested parties. You’re going to pay one way or another. You and your sister. Understand?"

"If I make a deal with you," she said, refusing to react, "how do I know they'll leave me alone?" She didn’t like the way that he was crowding her but he wasn’t nearly as physically intimidating as Gunner had been.

"You don't," he said, "But you'll have the money and the means for a proper escape."

It would be worth considering if she could trust him, if she could make herself believe a single word that escaped his lips. She’d happily sign away her shares of the company - she never wanted them to begin with. She wanted to build something of her own. If she could negotiate enough to start over - change her name, move far away, transfer her school credits or simply start again - she’d be more than thrilled. She would jump at the chance.

But these people were ruthless. They were dishonest and half of them likely sociopaths - she’d learned that much based on what her father said, based on spending any time at all with them at the few functions he’d allowed her and Aster to attend.

Liars all, and this Colin is just another lackey.

“I need proof that you’re not selling me some bullshit,” she said.

He shrugged. “All the proof’s back home.”

“I don’t believe you.”
And I wish you’d step the hell back.

He slammed his fists on the bar to either side of her and scowled. “Did you not hear me?” he hissed. “You’re in way over your head. You don’t want the next wave of shit that follows me to catch up to you. Go home, sign the goddamn papers, and disappear into Canada for all I give a shit.”

All her instincts screamed,
Don’t believe him. Do not get onto a plane with this man. Do not even get into a car with this man. Escape. Escape!
“Please back off and let me think for a minute.”

“No. I’ve already got a plane booked and there’s a car waiting outside. You’re coming with me.”

Gunner woke mid-afternoon in his office with no memory of getting there. He was wearing his cut but no shirt and his jeans were wide open.

The place was a mess, but it has been a mess to begin with so it was hard to tell what sort of damage has been done the night before. The chair was gone. One of the strippers was asleep on the desk, curled up with one arm dangling to the floor, snoring as loud as any man. He sat up with a groan and fixed his pants. Glasses of water lined the wall behind him in varying states of emptiness.
Explains why this hangover isn't incapacitating
, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was bad, but he'd had worse.

"Hey," he grunted, slapping lightly at the girl's hand, sending it swinging back and forth. He couldn't remember her name.
World's biggest asshole right here
.

"Mmm, Gunner," she said, smiling but keeping her eyes closed. "Why don't we go back to my place and finish what we started, baby."

Trudy. The girl Jester had pointed him toward at the beginning of the night. “Finish what?”

She sat up and pouted. “You promised you’d fuck me.”

Goddamn my head hurts too much for this right now.
“Where’s Irish?” Sober and back in control of most of his faculties, he remember what it was he wanted to ask him. Senna’s photo. He hadn’t seen Irish’s old lady in a long while but he was pretty sure that it was her.

“They left early,” she said. “Heard their bikes and the other girls talking before I passed out again waiting for you to wake up.” She dangled her feet over the edge of the desk, giggling and pointing her toes at him. “You mumble in your sleep. Talked about threes a lot. And you curse worse than my daddy, and he was a truck driver. And who’s Alvarez?”

It was a punch to the gut. He was going to be sick. “Get out.” He reached blindly in front of him searching for the garbage can.

“But you said-”

“Get out or you’re fired.”

“I don’t work here.”

“Get out!” He scrambled to his knees and practically crawled across the room towards the trash bin. “Right now! Get out of my office!”

Finally she left. As she slammed the door behind her, he released the breath he was holding and emptied his stomach.

Jester’s pain relief method was very temporary, and when it wore off, everything came back with a vengeance. He’d known that, but he’d thrown himself into it headfirst anyway.
A mistake.
It could never really go away; he would never feel better. He didn’t deserve to.

He stood on unsteady legs and made his way to the bathroom to throw water on his face. The man that stared back in the mirror was not the same one he’d seen just a week before. He barely recognized himself. Exhausted. Falling apart.

As his emptied stomach churned and as his veins buzzed with rage and fear and adrenaline, one face kept invading his mind and drawing his thoughts away from their usual violent and destructive path.

Senna.

She'd faced death with her head held high. He had drawn his gun and even then she hadn't crumbled.

He needed to make things right. Call Irish and at least inquire about her sister.

And more than that, he just needed to see her.

◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

“You’re coming with me.”

He’d only found her because the black Town Car parked outside the shitty watering hole across the street was so utterly out of place, there was no other possible reason for it to be there than for her.

When he saw that man looming over her, trapping her on her stool against the bar, he knew he was going to lose it. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears and nothing else as rage took over. His stride was slow and his intent clear. The patrons around him silenced as he passed.

"There a problem, here?" He stood close to the man's back, forcing him to twist around as he turned to answer the question.

"None of your business," the suit answered. Gunner looked him up and down. Everything was crisp and clean right down to his shiny black shoes. Clean shoes said something about a man.

"Shouldn't wear white to a place like this."

The man sneered with distaste. "Why's that?"

Gunner pulled back and punched him dead on the nose with a sickening crack. Blood exploded down the man's chin as he bounced back against the bar.

People around them ducked away, shouting, but Senna regarded the guy impassively. He didn't freak out over the sight of his own blood - Gunner could grudgingly give him credit for that, whoever the piece of shit was.

"I'll consider your offer," she said to the man as she slid from the stool. He tried to staunch the crimson flow but it was dripping through his fingers.

"What the fuck?" he cursed and spat at the ground. He glared up at Gunner.

"You stay away from her," Gunner growled. He wasn't sure where this blind protective rage was coming from. He knew he hadn't spared her life so some dick in a suit could try to kidnap her or coerce her or whatever the fuck he was doing.

"We were just talking, you fucking Neanderthal."

Gunner drew back to hit him again but Senna's hand was suddenly on his elbow. He relaxed and backed away.
That’s a first
.

"Come on," she said.

He followed her back to the hotel room, clenching and unclenching his fists and listening for sirens.

"I can't stay here," she said, rushing inside and grabbing her bag without even turning the lights on. He hung back in the doorway. "I know it's a lot to ask, but can you give me a ride somewhere else?" She stood in the center of the dim room, bag dangling from one hand, purse in the other. That damn haircut looked like a deliberate disguise and had been a utter waste. He cursed himself for making her do it.

"It isn't safe here for me, anymore," she said.

"Yes it is," he said, finally shutting the door. The late afternoon sun only barely lit the room, just a thin slice of it pouring through the curtains. "Nothing will touch you if I'm here."

He'd failed everyone else in his life so far. But he wasn't going to let her down. The thought of doing so only exacerbated the grief that was clawing at his chest.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes searching his face. He shook his head. She dropped both bags and came to him, reaching out and cupping his jaw with both hands. Her thumbs brushed the stubble there while she tried to read his eyes and he struggled to look away. "Something happened while you were away." He wrapped his hands around her wrists, intending to push her off. "Shh," she whispered, "It's okay." Then she lifted onto her toes and pulled his face to hers.

It was the same effect as the last time - an electric current of heat and passion burned through him as their lips met.
I am in such deep shit
.

Time froze. The world outside the room evaporated into the ether. It was like he was drugged; his mind felt foggy. All he could focus on was the perfection of her lips, how incredible they felt against his.

When her hand snaked down and pressed his growing erection through his pants, it was all he could do to not throw her to the ground and take her right away. Whatever mad spell he was under, she was feeling it, too.

A shudder ran through him and he broke their kiss. "You trying to kill me, woman?"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," she said, stepping away, but he was on her again in a moment, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth as he walked her back towards the bed. He would have grinned if his mouth wasn't so busy.
She wants it
. They fell together and he nestled between her legs with a growl.
So goddamn perfect
. It was as if the space were built for him.