Stoned (Unlikely Heroes Book 4) (7 page)

The woman she’d been before wouldn’t have cared about any of that. She would have slept with the devil if he was good looking enough. But she wasn’t that woman anymore.

Stoner paused at a door halfway down the long hallway on the third floor. He set her down while he removed a key card from his pocket. He swiped it through the slot. The green light flashed. He turned the knob and shoved the door open.

Karen stepped back. She couldn’t do this. She’d got caught up in the moment is all. She needed to stop this before Stoner figured out her secret and thrust her away in disgust.

Confusion—or was that hurt?—flickered across his face. “Karen?”

“I…I can’t do this. I haven’t had sex in…like…three years. I–”

He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and tilted her face toward his, at the same time lowering his head until his lips brushed hers. His tongue flickered out to lick and tease, press against her lips, seeking entrance.

She couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped her lips. He walked her backward into the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

Their tongues met in a frenzy of lust, licking, swirling, tasting. He cupped her face in his hands, holding her head still, as he devoured her mouth. Karen melted against him, clutching at his vest, pulling it off his shoulders, yanking at his T-shirt and slipping her hands up inside to feel the hot skin of his hard chest. His muscles quivered beneath her fingers.

His hands dropped to the front of her jeans, popping the snap and yanking down the zipper in one swift move. He pressed his hand inside, boldly cupping her. She gasped.

“You’re wet,” he breathed against her mouth, sounding surprised. “Jesus.” He rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily, and stared into her eyes.

“I need to see you.” He pulled his hand free of her pants and yanked at the buttons on her shirt, tearing it open with his eagerness and sending buttons flying. His gaze fell upon her bra-covered breasts.

Oh shit, oh no!

“No,” she whispered shakily, rearing back. How had she let it go this far? What was she thinking?

Lifting her arms protectively in front of her, she backed away from him.

He hissed out a breath, a bewildered look on his face. “Karen?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I can’t do this. Really, I can’t.”

His gaze swept down her figure and back up. “Why? You were all gung ho until I–” He broke off. His eyes flickered with sudden comprehension. “Holy shit. You’re wearing a wire! Why didn’t I think of that before? Hell, why didn’t Viper think of that? He always checks people for wires.”

He strode toward her.

What? A wire?
Karen backed up rapidly, glancing around her as she went. The room was a typical hotel room with a king-sized bed, a couple of end tables, a dresser, an armchair and a television. A small bathroom was off to her left.

“I’m not wearing a wire.” Spinning on her heel, she raced for the bathroom.

He caught her in two strides, yanking her up against him.

“Where’s the wire?” he growled. “In your bra?”

He pulled at her bra, his fingers pressing, squeezing, searching, yanking it away from her skin. He managed to undo the clasp. The material fell away from her chest.

The padding came loose in the struggle, falling to the floor at her feet.

Seeing it lying there like a stuffed sock, lifeless, unmoving, where once had been life and feeling and womanness…

She crumpled.

He drew back in bewilderment, letting her drop to the floor.

“What the hell?”

Oh God, he saw! He knew!

Her throat clogged with humiliation, embarrassment, horror. The swirl of emotions shoved their way up until they nearly choked her. She gasped in a breath. Tears filled her eyes, rolled down her cheeks. She grabbed at the empty bra cups, trying to cover her skin, trying to hide her secret, as the bra hung loosely off her shoulders.

Stoner stumbled backward, then dropped to his knees, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

Karen squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t watch him draw away from her like this in revulsion. It hurt too much.

A long silence stretched, the only sound that of his heavy breathing that gradually slowed and gentled.

Until she could hear nothing at all.

Nothing except her own heartbeat.

Then there was a whisper of sound.

She jerked her eyes open in time to see the door slam shut behind him.

CHAPTER NINE

Stoner felt like the biggest ass. He’d humiliated her. Hurt her. She’d crumbled in front of him, the strong woman he’d known vanishing like a puff of smoke.

“Fuck!” He slammed his fist into the wall. Again and again and again. Finally, he drew back, glaring at the hole he’d left in the sheetrock. He hadn’t known. The only logical explanation of course was breast cancer. Obviously she’d undergone a full mastectomy. He’d seen the evidence. Her breasts were gone. She had to resort to stuffing her bra to make it look like she still had breasts.

“Jesus.” He leaned his forehead against the wall, staring down at the hole he’d made. He knew she felt like only half a woman now. He’d witnessed the horror in her eyes, the embarrassment. The humiliation.

He’d made her cry.

He’d been so shocked, he hadn’t known what to do. He’d fallen to his knees in bewilderment and stared at her as tears streaked down her cheeks. A wire? Where the hell had that come from? Why had he attacked her like that? Karen wouldn’t have access to a wire. She wasn’t working undercover for the government. She was a botanist for Christ’s sake.

Shit.
He raked a hand through his hair, drew in a ragged breath. When she’d pulled back, the sting of rejection had hit him hard and he’d lashed out, using the excuse of searching for a wire as a way to punish her.

When he’d discovered the truth behind her withdrawal, he’d raced out of there like a coward. Like he’d been disgusted.

But he wasn’t. Not with her. With himself, yes. He was just…shocked. It wasn’t her fault. He wanted her to know it didn’t matter to him. That he still wanted her.

He needed to apologize. Shit, he couldn’t leave her suffering like this.

Neal Stone, the badass biker and drug dealer, never apologized to anyone. Yet he’d already apologized to her once for hurting her arm earlier. He should have resisted the impulse, for it was ruining his “badass” reputation. But damn her, she made him weak and he hadn’t wanted her to think he was a horrible person.

She didn’t know that Neal Stone never apologized. She didn’t know the real Neal Stone. She only knew the man he presented to her. She didn’t know he was a different Neal Stone around her than he was around others. But if he wasn’t careful, she might catch on.

Shit. She was royally screwing up his plans.

But he still wanted to apologize.

He was about to do that—go back in the room and apologize to her—when booted feet clomped across the hardwood floor behind him.

Stoner turned as Viper reached the top of the landing. The leader of the Cobras spied Stoner and paused. He came forward.

“Where’s the woman?”

Stoner jerked his head toward his door. “In my room.”

Viper nodded, his gaze searching Stoner’s. “You keeping her in line?”

Stoner choked out a laugh.
Keeping her in line? As if.

“Yeah.”

Viper’s pink gaze narrowed on him. “I heard she didn’t want to smoke. I also heard you’ve made her your woman. That true?”

His woman? He wished. “Yeah, she’s mine.” Let them all think she was his.

Viper studied him a little longer in silence. “You realize you’re going to have to kill her when we’re through with her, right? So don’t get too attached.”

Stoner heaved out a sigh. “I know.”

“Good. Keep it together, man, and learn all you can from her. I’m looking forward to our business venture.”

Viper clapped him on the shoulder, then strode past him to the huge suite at the end of the hall. Stoner remained in the hallway, staring down the empty corridor, long after Viper had entered his room and closed the door.

He turned back to stare at the door to his room. It was time to apologize to Karen. To try to make her understand. Would she listen to him?

He swiped his key card through the slot and pushed open the door.

He glanced around. The room was empty.

The only way out of his room was through the door he’d just come in. Then the sound of running water pierced his senses. She was in the shower. He hesitated. Maybe he should leave her alone for a while.

Striding over to the end table at the left side of the bed, he pulled open the drawer. He withdrew a pen and a notepad.

He would leave her a note. He contemplated what to say for a long moment, then scribbled on the notepad. He tore the piece of paper from the pad. He tossed the pen and notepad back in the drawer, then slammed the drawer shut.

The shower was still running.

Stoner carried the paper over to the closed bathroom door. He set in on the floor in front of the door. When she came out, she would see it. She couldn’t miss it.

He wasn’t very good with words. Would it help her feel better?

He set his extra key card on top of the note for her to use to access his room whenever she needed. It was an invitation he hoped she would understand: she was welcome in his room anytime, day or night, whenever she wanted.

Stoner strode from the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

The note lay on the floor, beckoning her closer. Karen stared at it. Had Stoner left it? She snatched up the key card laying on top. What was Stoner trying to say by giving it to her? She would need it to access his room when he wasn’t around. Did this mean he was never coming back to his room? Or was he just giving her a key to his room so she could come and go whenever she wanted? Whatever the reason, she would be sure to take the key card with her whenever she left the room. If she ever needed a place to hide, Stoner’s room would be accessible.

She stared down at the note for a long moment, chewing her bottom lip, then bent to pick it up.

I’m sorry
, Stoner had written in a bold, manly scrawl.

She smiled. The writing was
so
Stoner.

She read on.

It makes no difference to me.

Her breath hitched.

I still want you.

A sob bubbled up her throat at those last four words.

I still want you.

Those had to be the most beautiful words she’d ever heard. For three years she’d felt like half a woman, believing no man would ever want her again. Why would anyone want her now? She had no breasts. Part of what made her a woman was gone forever.

I still want you.

Emotion burst inside her chest, spreading outward, warming her cold limbs better than the warm water from the shower.

I still want you.

She sank to the floor and clutched the note to her chest, overcome with emotion. A tear trickled down her cheek.

Who
was
Stoner? A man of contradictions, he continued to confuse and amaze her at the same time.

A man like Stoner didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He meant every word. A man like Stoner was blunt, to the point. He told it like he felt it.

I still want you.

Karen drew in a ragged breath, swallowing hard. Did Stoner know how much those words affected her?

Yes. Of course he did. He was an intuitive man. Stoner didn’t do anything without planning, thinking about it first.

Her heart clenched. His kindness was unexpected, but knowing Stoner, he hadn’t done it out of kindness. He was just being honest. He wanted her to know he cared, that he had feelings for her, which was so unexpected. So un-macho man.

She giggled. Stoner was definitely a macho man. But he obviously had a tender side as well, which touched her more than she wanted to admit. She wanted to know so much more about him. He was the only good thing in this house of bikers. Their attraction might be the only thing that kept her sane while here.

She needed to find him. To let him know she’d gotten his note and appreciated it. To let him know how much those words meant to her.

Since she had no change of clothes, Karen dressed in her dirty jeans, but her shirt was ruined, since Stoner had popped the buttons off. She put her bra back on, stuffing the pads back in the cups. She searched the small dresser against the wall and pulled out one of his T-shirts, yanking it over her head. Running her fingers through her damp hair, she glanced in the mirror.

With her face washed clean of makeup and her hair damp from the shower, she looked much younger than forty-six. She might even pass for thirty-five. Would Stoner still find her attractive?

Unsure where that thought had come from, knowing her insecurities were returning, she jerked away from the mirror.

It didn’t matter what anyone thought. She was who she was, and she couldn’t change that.

But she still hoped he found her attractive, that he
had
meant what he’d said in the note.

That he still wanted her.

Karen pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway. The sound of approaching footsteps had her jerking her head to the right. Viper approached down the hallway, his creepy pink gaze steady on her. She took a step partway back into the room. Paused. Fighting the urge to run back into Stoner’s room and slam the door, she lifted her chin and held her ground. She would not show fear in front of Viper. She would not give him the satisfaction.

She kept the door ajar at her back.

Just in case.

Viper reached her. Karen met his gaze.

“Going somewhere, Ms. Williams?”

She nodded. “I was looking for Stoner.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment, just perused her with that frightening gaze. She tried to ignore the creepy serpent tattoo slithering across his head, the strange body piercings, but was unable to keep from staring. The man really was frightening.

He cocked his head. “Do I scare you?”

She let out a snort. “No,” she lied. “You’re just a mean bully who likes to force others to bend to your will. Do I think you’re strange? Yes. Creepy? Yes, again. Scary looking? Yes, most definitely. But you don’t scare me, Mr. Viper. And that bugs you, doesn’t it?”

He let out a chuckle. “You’re a poor liar, Ms. Williams. It’s a good thing for you that Stoner made you his woman, and even better for you that I don’t poach on other men’s property. If I did, I’d take advantage of this situation and teach you a thing or two about respect.”

Karen bit back an angry retort. The man was a self-important, ego-inflated, chauvinist, racist pig. Viper wanted her to fight with him so he could force her into submission. But she wouldn’t let that happen. He was never teaching her a thing about “respect,” because she wouldn’t give him the chance.

“Lucky for you,” he went on softly, “I prefer my women of the pure white race, not dirty South American trash. The only thing you’re good for is whoring.”

What?
Had he called her South American trash? Had he called her a whore?

Her temper boiled.

Don’t do it, Karen. It’s what he wants.

“I’ll have you know…” She lifted her chin high. “A Latino heritage does not make me trash. My parents were kind, wonderful, hard-working people. If you knew my parents, you wouldn’t call them trash. You wouldn’t call
me
trash. But then, you’re so closed-minded you only see what you want to see, don’t you, Mr. Viper? You only view the world in your warped ‘white power, better-than-everyone-else way.’ You’re so closed-minded that you judge people just by the color of their skin. All that garbage in your head makes
you
the trash, Mr. Viper.
You
, not me.”

A tense silence followed her outburst. The longer the silence stretched, the more worried Karen became. Temper brewed in the man’s creepy eyes. His albino skin was so transparent the blue veins popped out in his neck.

Oh shit.

“And I’ll never be your damn whore!” Karen scrambled back into Stoner’s room and slammed the door.

Viper’s evil laughter echoed off the walls after her. “I’ll be watching you, Ms. Williams,” he called. “And as soon as Stoner’s done with you, I’m taking over.”

The hell he was.
Karen’s heart raced as she stared at the closed door, waiting. Would he break the door down? Come in after her? Rape her?

She pressed her ear against the door. Listened.

Silence. Then footsteps fading away.

Karen sank to the floor in relief. Drawing her legs against her chest, she huddled back against the door. She hated this place. Thanks to Viper, now she was too scared to leave the room.

She wanted to go home. She wanted her boring botanist’s life back. The samples she’d collected today were ruined now. She’d have to start all over again, try to remember the areas where she’d collected them and try to find new samples to bring back.

She had to get out of here. As soon as possible.

What about Stoner?

“Screw Stoner,” she whispered to the empty room. “He probably only wrote that note so he could get laid.”

Her heart clenched at the thought, even though she knew it was true. Stoner didn’t care about her. Why would he?

Karen drew in a breath, slowly exhaled.