Riding Dirty (28 page)

When he was done, he let go of her hair and straightened, breathing hard. She could feel his penis on her bottom, his come dripping into her. He squeezed her slippery buttocks, plumping them together.

She was so turned on, she might have submitted to anything. Her pussy felt like hot wax, her clit a pulsing flame. He untied one of her hands and rolled her over, parting her quivering thighs. She lay on the table with her left wrist bound, legs spread. He slid one hand beneath her buttocks and pushed his finger into her ass, making her groan. Holding her gaze, he closed his mouth over her throbbing clit. She came as hard as he’d fucked her, letting out a hoarse cry as she bucked against the table, clenching her bottom around his finger and mashing her pussy against his beautiful mouth.

She lay there for several moments, panting. She thought her last climax had been strong, but this one took the cake. All the cake and the frosting, too. He removed his finger from her and cleaned his hands with another wet shop rag. For a filthy, dirty fuck, he was kind of fastidious. She appreciated that.

He untied her and she used the damp rag to wipe her bottom. Then she adjusted her corset and put her jeans on, not bothering with panties. There were a couple of plastic chairs bolted to the cement floor on the other side of the Laundromat. Cole sat down and pulled Mia into his lap, kissing her damp forehead.

“What did he threaten you with?” he asked, after a long time.

She sighed, pressing her face into his shoulder. So much for her postorgasmic bliss. He was like a dog with a bone. But she could tell he believed her now. He’d thought about what she said, and he believed it.

“Can he report you for misconduct?”

“I can report him, too.”

“For what?”

“Any number of things,” she said vaguely.

“Does he know where your mother is?”

“Yes, but he wouldn’t hurt her.”

“If you’re not worried about him damaging your career or hurting your mother, what...” He trailed off as understanding dawned. “He told you he’d hurt me. How, by sending me back to prison?”

“He also said he’d get me relocated. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Anything but bug me,” he said, raking a hand through his hair.

“I had a note for you in my mouth. I’d planned to give it to you, but I almost choked and I lost it.”

His eyes narrowed. “You had a note. In your mouth.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea.”

“Like cutting off your ankle monitor? Was that a good idea?”

“It’s better than letting Vargas fucking kill me!”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “He wouldn’t.”

“Of course he would. Now that he knows about us, he’d do it with relish.”

Mia noted that Damon hadn’t intervened tonight. He hadn’t pulled Cole over at the movie theater parking lot, or the casino parking garage. Maybe he’d been waiting for her to place the bug. Or maybe he had other plans for Cole. Either way, the cops didn’t show up until Cole removed his ankle monitor.

“We’re fucked,” Cole said succinctly.

She studied the stark confines of the abandoned building. “We can’t stay here.”

“There’s always Mexico.”

“Is that where you’re going?”

“I don’t know.”

“They’ll catch you.”

“I wouldn’t want to go without you, anyway.”

Mia’s face crumpled at those words. She had an easier time accepting his anger and his punishing touch. This emotional side of him broke her heart. It made her crave more than rough goodbye sex. It made her long for him to stay.

He put his hand on her head, holding her while she cried.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

M
IA WOKE IN
Cole’s arms.

It was dawn. She’d slept off and on for a few hours with her head tucked in his lap or resting against his shoulder. He’d spent half of the night standing on a washing machine, looking out a hole in the aluminum. Keeping watch.

“We should go now,” he said, pulling away from her. “It’s morning.”

She straightened and rubbed her neck, which was sore from the awkward position. “Go where?”

“I’ll take you to Palm Springs. You can get a cab.”

“I don’t want to get a cab.”

He rose from the chair, ignoring her response. They drank the last of the bottled water, and he moved the washing machine that was barricading the door. She had to pee, so she went outside and squatted behind the building. He walked a few yards away to relieve himself. Then he mounted his bike and started the engine. She had no choice but to hop on.

A new dawn broke over the San Bernardino Mountains, golden bright. The desert sun didn’t care about her dark mood and swollen eyes. It didn’t care about drought, or poverty, or hard times. It just shone dispassionately, illuminating the good and bad with equal fervor, bathing the cracked earth with harsh light.

They didn’t make it to Palm Springs. They didn’t even make it to Desert Hot Springs, which was closer. After about five melancholy miles, the bike quit.

Mia climbed off the back and watched as Cole attempted to get the motorcycle going. He cursed and tinkered and cursed some more. He acted like any frustrated man she’d ever seen. She felt a mixture of sorrow and admiration as she studied him. His eyes were bloodshot, pale amber like the morning sun. Even at his worst, he was damned hot. His tattoo-covered triceps flexed as he worked. He had strong hands, starkly beautiful in their masculinity. Capable of inflicting dizzying pleasure or incredible pain.

After a few minutes, he checked the gas tank. “Fuck,” he said, screwing the lid back on. “The gauge must be broken.”

“Is there a gas station around here?”

“It’s a few miles away.”

He rolled the bike into some thorny bushes behind an abandoned trailer. Mia waited for him to return, shrugging off the backpack. When he rejoined her, he looked around. “We have to split up. I’ll head to the gas station. If you walk north, you’ll hit the center of town. You can find a store with a pay phone.”

“Why can’t we stay together?”

“You’re safer alone than out in the open with me.”

“The police won’t shoot you.”

“Maybe not, but they’ll take me by force. I’m a dangerous fugitive on the run. They don’t fuck around.”

She stared down the lonely road. “You could turn yourself in. I’ll talk to Vargas for you. Make a deal.”

His eyes went cold. “Would this deal involve you screwing him?”

She felt the blood drain from her face. She hadn’t planned on capitulating to Vargas, but she’d do whatever it took to save Cole from rotting in prison.

“Did he touch you?” he asked, his jaw clenched.

“No.”

“If he did, I’ll knock his fucking teeth out.”

She moistened her lips, trying to think of other options. “We can call WITSEC directly.”

“You’d relocate with me?”

Her throat closed up, because it was impossible. The program would never agree to place them together. They weren’t married or in an established relationship. She also had her mother to consider. Even if her mother didn’t recognize her, Mia couldn’t bear to be away from her. But she couldn’t bear to be away from Cole, either.

He put on his backpack in terse motions. “I should go. The longer we’re together, the more trouble you’ll be in.”

Fresh tears welled in her eyes but she blinked them away, refusing to break down in front of him again. Refusing to beg him to stay. When her vision cleared, she caught sight of an intriguing advertisement in the distance.

Tranquility Springs, an all-natural getaway

Soak in private mineral baths and enjoy freedom. Leave the world behind.

“That’s it,” she said, pointing. “‘Leave the world behind.’ It’s a sign.”

“It’s a billboard,” Cole said.

“Look at it.”

“I see it.”

She studied the peaceful image of a woman’s bare back, water rippling around her hips. The colors in the ad were soothing, stone-gray and leaf-green. Mia took a deep breath, filled with new hope. “We can go there and lay low. Figure out our next step.”

“We can’t lay low at a spa.”

“Why not?”

“We won’t blend in. I’m covered with tattoos, and you’re smoking hot. Everyone will stare at us.”

“It says ‘private.’”

“Maybe that means ‘clothing-optional.’”

“I hope so, since we don’t have bathing suits.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

She twined her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to the black web. Spider webs were common with inmates and criminals. Caught in a deadly trap, no way out.

“My mother doesn’t remember me,” she said, after a pause.

“What?”

“She has advanced Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t know who I am anymore.”

“Since when?”

“It’s been getting worse over the past few months. She’s all I’ve got, but in some ways she’s already gone.”

He held Mia’s head against his chest, his big hand spanning her neck.

“I can’t stand to let another person go too soon.”

“I’ll drag you down, Mia.”

“No,” she said, clinging to him. “You lift me up.”

“When they find us, you’ll lose everything.”

“I’ve already lost everything. Before I met you, I was dead inside. Now I’m alive again, and nothing else matters.”

“Your safety matters.”

“Stay with me one more day,” she said. “We’re already in trouble. At the very least, I can call WITSEC and you won’t have to deal with Damon.”

After mulling it over, he agreed to her plan. They walked to the gas station in the cool early morning light. Cole held her hand, looking over his shoulder for patrol cars and into the sky for helicopters. By the time they arrived at the FastMart, Mia was starving. She bought a cold coffee drink and a banana nut muffin. Cole grabbed a breakfast burrito and a soda, in addition to a container of gas. They sat on the curb to eat.

When she was finished, she rose to throw away the trash. “Check it out,” she said, spotting a dusty thrift shop across the street. “We should get some disguises.”

“Disguises?”

“Shorts or whatever. So we look like vacationers.”

“Okay,” he said, crushing his soda can.

The store was open for business, so they ducked inside. Mia found a ballet-style tank top, a gypsy skirt and a pair of leather sandals. She also selected a nightie and some cotton panties from the lingerie bin. Buying secondhand underwear seemed strange, but she pushed aside her misgivings. She was an outlaw now.

Cole grabbed a few things off the rack, barely glancing at them. He added a baseball cap and a pair of worn Birkenstocks to the pile. Mia decided to get a hat for herself. She chose a straw fedora that had seen better days.

Mia paid a myopic old lady for the items while Cole stood by the door, keeping watch. She thought he was being paranoid—until a police cruiser passed by. Motioning for her to get out of sight, Cole backed away from the dusty window and ducked behind a bookshelf, pretending to browse the titles. She gathered her things and went into the changing room, her heart racing. A minute later, his boots appeared beneath the curtain.

“It’s clear,” he said quietly.

She let him in, almost wilting with relief.

“You sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure.”

Before they left the store, he donned the baseball cap and an aqua-colored polo. She changed into the tank top and put on the fedora. The minor changes made a big difference. They looked like tourists. Even so, the walk back to the bike was tense. Mia didn’t relax until they were fueled up and on their way out of town.

Tranquility Springs was about ten miles north, down a long gravel road. Cole parked in the covered carport and they contemplated the sedate, Southwest-style architecture. It looked pretty rustic. More of a nature retreat than a five-star resort. She doubted anyone would look for them here, but the location had its drawbacks. Set against the San Bernardino Mountains, it offered privacy and solitude, rather than convenient escape routes.

Cole turned up the collar of his polo to hide the tattoo on his neck. “Here,” he said, giving her a wad of cash. “I’m going to stand back and keep my hands in my pockets.”

She put the money in her purse. “Should I use a fake name?”

“Of course.”

“What if they ask me for ID?”

“They will. Say we just got married, and you haven’t changed your name yet.”

“I’m not wearing a ring,” she said, rubbing the empty spot on her finger.

“It doesn’t matter if they believe you. They’ll think we’re cheaters, not fugitives.”

She nodded her approval. “You’re good at this.”

“Better than you are,” he agreed.

They stepped into an air-conditioned office. Mia was greeted by a stern-faced receptionist in glasses and prim dress. Not the flower child she’d expected.

“Hello,” Mia said. “We’re looking for a room.”

“Do you have a reservation?”

“No.”

“There’s a two-night minimum.”

“That’s fine.”

Adjusting her glasses, the woman placed a binder on the countertop and flipped open the pages. “This is an all-natural, eco-friendly adult resort that runs on solar energy. No cell phones or electronic devices are allowed. Cold and hot mineral water is piped in from underground wells. Each retreat has its own outdoor bath in a private space. We have log cabins, stone cottages and tree houses.”

Cole made a strangled sound, sort of like a cough.

The receptionist tapped a glossy photograph in her binder. “This stone cottage is the most secluded retreat available. It’s three hundred a night, including food and drink.”

“We’ll take it,” Cole said.

“You can dine at our restaurant. If you want to have your meals delivered—”

“We do,” he said.

“That’s an extra fifty a day. The spa at your retreat is for personal use, and you can also take advantage of the larger tubs in the courtyard or go for a cool dip in the swimming pool. It’s clothing-optional from three to five every afternoon, so plan accordingly. You’re welcome to visit during those hours and go bare, but carry a towel or cover-up with you.” The receptionist offered a cool smile.