Love Ties (11 page)

That was just it—she didn’t.

Ace continued, “She might be everything you believe her to be, man. I hope to fuck she is. But I won’t be so confident until I see it.” He jabbed a finger at the laptop screen.

Jamison poured himself a second shot. “I picked her up in The Gearhead. She didn’t come to me or throw herself at me.”

“No, but she might have planned that.”

True.

“She has secrets, but I don’t think for a minute it has anything to do with the drugs. And she sure as hell isn’t a Fed.”

“No,” Ace said reluctantly. They drank together and settled their glasses on the bar at the same time. Ace hissed at the aftereffect of the whiskey. “How will you make her trust you?”

He shook his head. “No goddamn idea. She puts on this armor when I try to even woo her.”

Ace smirked.

Jamison felt the corner of his mouth turn upward too. “What the fuck you smiling at?”

“Jamison Montgomery wooing a woman? I’ve got to check the Internet and see if the world’s ending or something.”

He cuffed his brother on the shoulder. “Keep me informed.” He circled the bar and started toward Ever.

“You keep me informed, Jamison. You only have a few hours.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When Jamison got close to Ever, he caught a snippet of her conversation with Carol Ann. They were discussing food the food the ladies planned to make for Strother’s homecoming party. Ever said she’d help, and Jamison’s heart warmed.

She was letting the club wrap their arms around her whether she wanted to or not.

He made a detour and strode to his room. Earlier she’d placed her jacket and purse on his bed. He picked up the buttery, thin leather and searched the pockets. A set of keys, which he pocketed. He’d have Ace grind out a matching key to both her vehicle and her house.

Her other pocket had a crumpled dollar bill and a gum wrapper. He rubbed the wrapper between his fingers and brought them to his nose, inhaling the cinnamon that clung to the woman he was obsessed with.

He laid her jacket on the bed and stared at her purse. Digging through a woman’s shit didn’t set well with him. What choice did he have, though?

On the other hand, he wanted her to trust him, and violating her privacy wasn’t the way to do it.

He stuck a finger in the opening and pulled the cloth apart. His heart stopped.

Reaching in, his chest grew tight. When he wrapped his fingers around the weapon, he almost couldn’t breathe.

He pocketed the weapon, and with that and the keys in hand, hurried back to the bar. Ace’s eyes widened as he spotted Jamison’s face. Jamison thrust the gun into his hand. “Track that serial number, if there is one. Then make copies of these.” He slipped the keys into Ace’s cut.

“Right away, boss.”

He zeroed in on Ever. She had moved, her profile visible. For a long minute he racked his brain for ways to get her to trust him.

Then it came to him. He had to show his trust first.

He closed the gap between them and planted a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him with a smile that made his heart give an extra throb.

He grinned at Carol Ann. “I’m going to take away your friend for a few minutes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“’Course not,” Carol Ann said with a knowing smile.

He turned his smile on Ever. “C’mon.” Tugging her hand, he drew her to her feet. Instead of leading her to his room, he took her outside.

“Are we leaving?” she asked as they approached the row of bikes.

“Nope.” The air was thick and close. It invited thoughts of bodies sticking together and deep, wet kisses. He caught her gaze and squeezed her fingers.

He took her straight to the backroom of the garage. He flipped on the light to showcase the crates lining the walls, stacked three high.

“What is this?” She gestured.

“Some goods we’ve been selling a little at a time.”

She didn’t balk. “Guns?”

He studied her body, hoping it would give away more than her expression. But her shoulders were relaxed, her hands unfisted.

“No, prescription drugs. Mostly antibiotics. We get shipments from Mexico once a month, then sell them cheap to hospitals and clinics.”

She eyed him. “Narcotics?”

His breathing hitched as white-hot terror ran through him. She couldn’t be a junkie. He’d never believe it.

Nodding, he said, “Sometimes. You use?”

Her eyes flew open wide. “Never,” she breathed.

He believed her and was able to draw air again. She didn’t have bloodshot eyes or impaired speech. And if she were a narcotic abuser, she’d grab the crowbar and start prying open crates to get at them.

He leaned against the crates.

“Do you use?” she asked.

He laughed. “No.”

“That’s good. I…I don’t like being around people who use drugs—street or otherwise.”

Moving close, he captured her wrists in his hands. Instantly he felt better—more at ease. She leaned into him, soft breasts crushed to his chest. He swallowed a moan.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

“To show you what we do besides run the bars.”

She chewed her lower lip. His gaze latched onto her white teeth against the plump flesh, his cock jumping to life.

“What did you do before coming here?” he probed.

She tried to pull away. “You mean your intel guy hasn’t figured that out yet?”

Tension buzzed between them. “No,” he said slowly, reeling her closer. “I want you to tell me. What can I do to make you trust me?”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to know.”

He ducked to see into her eyes. “Is that so, Eden?”

She jerked. Sparks flew from her glare, and she tore away. In several steps she was across the room, too far from him.

Folding her arms, she tapped a foot. “I thought your guy didn’t have info on me.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I want you to tell me.” He approached her cautiously, aware of the delicious curves of her body and the rigid way she stood.

She backed up.

He stalked her. “That’s not your name, either.”

“No,” she said at once. Maybe a game of yes/no would work best with her. He could probably detect a lie in her voice easily enough.

“Your name is Ever?”

“Yes.”

Ace hadn’t found a single living person named Ever except one celebrity baby.

“How old are you?”

She raised her chin. “You never ask a lady’s age.”

“Baby, let me make this clear. If we’re going to continue to see each other, there are things I need to know.”

“Then we won’t see each other.” She took a step toward the door. He caught her wrist and yanked her back, right into his body. Every inch of her conformed to him. He cupped her ass and slid a finger under the hem of her short shorts.

She squirmed.

Watching her face, he teased a finger lower, a scant inch from her pussy. Heat enveloped his fingertip. “How old?”

“Old enough.”

“Is that so? For what? Maybe this?” He pushed a finger against her opening, stuffing her lace panties into her pussy. She cried out and went boneless in his hold.

“Twenty-five.”

He buried his nose into her hair and closed his eyes. So young. Too young to go unprotected. He thrust his finger a fraction deeper. She shuddered.

“What’s your last name?” He nuzzled her ear.

She didn’t respond, only wiggled as if to bring his finger into her. He withdrew it slightly, and she moaned.

“Last name.”

Her breath sawed in her lungs. She was on the edge, and damn, he wanted to give her release with every fiber of his being.

“Ever…?” He let his knuckle brush her swollen clit.

Bucking in his hold, she blurted, “Palen!”

“Good girl.” He soothed her with kisses over her ear to her throat. She angled her head to better receive him. When he rewarded her with a finger inside her panties, she cried out. “Fuck, I need you.” He whirled her, pinning her to the crate, two fingers in her pussy and his tongue in her mouth.

She fucked his hand, small mewls of pleasure bursting from her. Shocks of heat traveled up his arm and claimed his control. One-handed, he unbuttoned his jeans and slid down his zipper. His cock was distended with need.

Without asking, Ever fished out his wallet and found the condom. Her eyes were hazy with want, and he drove his tongue back into her mouth for more mind-addling minutes.

Ever Palen. They’d find her tonight, and tomorrow Strother would have the information he needed. She was young enough that if her file was thin, no one would question it. She’d hardly had time to establish a life.

Twisting away from the kiss, she panted as she rolled the condom over his erection. He fumbled with her shorts. It crossed his mind that he was fucking her standing up twice in one day, but he was too far gone to care about variety.

Besides, she was so fucking eager.

When she angled his cock toward her wet pussy, he barely controlled his growl. He burrowed into her as she sank down on him. He cradled her ass, lifting her and dropping her over and over.

She came fast and hard, flexing around him as she pounded his back with her fists. Jamison’s mind blanked as total ecstasy washed through him. His scorching orgasm rushed up, and her name left his lips.

•●•

That burning was back in Jamison’s eyes—the one Ever couldn’t ignore. She’d spent too much time with him as it was, but damned if she could stop.

She swung her leg over his bike and wrapped her arms around him. Loving the hum of the motor underneath her and the feel of the man before her.

Temptation didn’t come in the form of a syringe or even money for Ever. Nope, give her a whiff of Jamison’s cologne and leather under her hands, and she was a goner.

He switched on the communication between their helmets as he pulled out of the club parking lot. Night closed in, and the wind teased her hair around her shoulders.

“You good, baby?”

Tingling at his deep tone, she nodded. She’d let him wipe away her fears after meeting Barbosa at the club. Barbosa hadn’t frightened her, and her response scared the living hell out of her. It had felt like coming home.

She couldn’t return to the Life, and definitely not the Raiders. They spilled blood as if it was a hobby, and some of those drops had been her mother’s.

For the time being, she’d enjoy the safety Jamison provided. Tomorrow she’d come up with a reason for faking her death the Raiders would believe. By then Jamison would find out the Palen name was also a dead end.

One more night with him. She tightened her hold on his waist.

As they zoomed out of town and hit the interstate, she relaxed. They talked about places they’d been and places they wanted to visit. He told her their prez was on his way home from Pensacola.

They skirted talk of both of their families, touching on general locations for each. She admitted to having family in Alabama. Though they were distant, it was the purest version of the truth she could share.

Jamison had a sister who didn’t approve of the Life in Baton Rouge, and he hadn’t seen her in a decade. They passed a burger joint, and he promised to take her there for a “black and blue burger” that had crumbles of blue cheese on it. After that, her stomach began to rumble.

The fourth time, he laughed and stopped at a twenty-four-hour bakery.

He pulled her off the bike and waited for her to remove her helmet. Then he anchored her to his side and led her into the shop.

The scents of yeast and sweet goodness set her stomach on a constant growl. They each got cinnamon rolls and a big cup of coffee. She chose a booth, and Jamison sat across from her, grinning like a kid on Christmas.

This had to end. She couldn’t let him believe she was going to stick around and be his old lady. In fact, this was her last night of indulgences. No more midnight rides, cinnamon rolls, or gorgeous biker men who made her feel too special.

She had to complete her mission to find out what happened to her mother, and then she’d slip away again under another alias.

Jamison’s cell buzzed, and he palmed it out of his cut. He stared at the screen for a long time, his face a mask.

The bite of cinnamon roll she’d taken suddenly tasted bad in her mouth. She chewed slowly, waiting for him to erupt. He had that look.