Twisted Asphalt (Asphalt Outlaw Series Book 1) (13 page)

Amy stepped back, listening to what the man had to say,
unsure of what it all meant. Someone had tried to hurt them. She knew that
much. The question was, who and why? Her throat grew tight as tears welled.
This wasn’t the life she wanted, living in fear all the time, having her family
destroyed by some unseen force.

Mace nodded as he listened to the agent. “Can you tell who
created the bomb?”

“We can once we get it to the lab. It was homemade, but
everyone has a signature style to their designs. We’ll know in a day or so.”

“Thank you, Agent Jones.” Stone offered his hand to the
agent once more, then slowly turned to the group. “Amy, go get us all clothing
you can salvage. Romeo, Mace, get the trailer hooked up and let’s get the
horses loaded, or we’ll be here all night.”

It was silent going, tense and sad as they worked to get
ready to move to Mace’s. Amy got what she could; everything else was either
soaked or destroyed by the smoke. She couldn’t stop to look at the ruined photo
albums or melted pictures on the walls, in fear of having a nervous breakdown.
This was a grab and run situation, they would come back tomorrow or another day
to go through the home and see what they lost.

That was one trip she would need nerve pills for.

The ride to Mace’s was quiet, except for a few random
sniffles from her. Stone and Romeo were on their bikes following them. She
didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t what she saw rolling out before her
when they pulled up to the Spanish style adobe ranch home. It was simply
beautiful and cold.

Mace led them into the home, switching on lights, exposing
the sterile interior to them. No books, no collectibles, no personal items
lying about. Just two pictures over his fireplace. One of an older couple and
one of a young man that looked like he could be Mace’s twin in a USMC uniform.
It was as if he owned it, but never lived in it. Completely uninviting.

Amy frowned at that thought as Mace showed Romeo and Stone
where they would be staying for now, then came back to her.

“Why don’t you have any more pictures or look like you
actually live here?”

Mace pursed his lips as he looked around his den, then back
to her, his eyes clouded and his voice distant. “The past belongs buried.”

CHAPTER 18

Amy’s questions were expected, but Mace had inherited the
house only a few months prior and hadn’t gotten it set up the way he wanted it.
Getting where he was with the club and spending time with Amy had been more
important, and he let her know as much. He cleaned up after breakfast with Amy
and Stone getting ready to head back to the house for some damage control, when
Romeo wandered in. They hadn’t spoken a word to one another since Romeo carried
off Amy after he made the phone call to Jones.

Romeo retained his affability, but there was a distinct
hardening of his green eyes. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Mace quirked a single brow at the line of questioning,
knowing exactly what he was talking about. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to
answer though. “It was my birthday the other night.”

He expected Romeo to get mad at his sarcasm, but he didn’t
expect the violence. That was his fault for underestimating Romeo. Mace found
himself at the receiving end of a butcher knife being held at his throat,
pinned against the counter in his kitchen

Romeo’s expression was thunderous as he pressed the knife
against Mace’s jugular. His voice was quiet, but yet held an undertone of cold
contempt. “Why the fuck would you call in the ATF? Are you
trying
to put
focus on us?”

Mace swallowed, feeling the blade nicking his skin, and a
trickle of blood slipping down his throat. He wasn’t scared of Romeo by any
means, but he was in dangerous territory right now and this was going to take
some finesse to get around. He met Romeo’s accusing eyes without flinching, “I
may know my shit, Romeo, but contrary to popular belief, I’m not a fucking
genius. They owed me a favor and I called it in. It’s not going to put
limelight on the club, trust me. The Temer Gallo have put it on the club, or
haven’t you noticed the local PD and Sherriff’s Department have been eyeballing
the clubhouse and trailing the main officers?”

“I’m not fucking stupid, Mace. We have local people on
payroll. Nothing ever would have come of it.” Romeo ground his teeth, pressing
the knife deeper into Mace’s throat. “Bringing the Feds in is a whole new
problem. How is it they owe
you
a favor?”

Mace noted the hint of impatience in Romeo’s voice, his eyes
narrowing in irritation. This shit was getting old. He wasn’t happy with a
knife being held to his throat. Rolling his eyes, he sighed in exasperation; he
was done with the physical threats. Romeo was too close to him to get the heel
of his hand against Romeo’s sternum, but he could play dirty. Three different
scenarios played through his mind’s eye in a matter of seconds, and only one
had an outcome that wouldn’t cause Romeo too much pain.

His advantage was Romeo wouldn’t expect Mace to fight back.
His right hand shot up to wrap fingers around the joints between Romeo’s hand
and wrist. He applied a tight squeeze, feeling the two bones grind under his
hand. Shoving off of the counter, he pushed Romeo’s arm away from his neck, the
hand on his wrist turning enough to angle the sharp blade away from him. Mace
turned his body toward the hulking frame of his club brother, shifting his
weight to his right leg.

“Sorry, brother.” Mace had to apologize for what he was
about to do. His left knee jerked up with the momentum of his twisting body,
sinking right against Romeo’s family jewels. Romeo let out a grunt and
instinctually dropped the knife, both hands flying to cup his sac, giving Mace
time to pick the knife up and pull out a kitchen chair for Romeo to sit in.

Pouring them both a cup of coffee, Mace debated on getting
Romeo a bag of ice, but fuck that. He drew blood and that wasn’t okay in his
book. Romeo deserved to suffer for a bit. Setting the mug in front of Romeo, he
pulled out a chair for himself and sat opposite him.

“I don’t take kindly to physical threats, Romeo. I’m not a
prospect anymore, I don’t have to bow down and kiss anyone’s ass, and I won’t
either.” Mace leaned back in the chair, straightening his shoulders as his hand
rested against the warm mug. “They owe me a favor because of my brother. He
used to work for them, and he was killed after a case.”

“Bullshit.” Romeo drawled out with distinct mockery. “No
federal agency owes favors like that. How was he killed? What was his name?”

“Elliot Dean. He’s my younger half-brother. It was his
wedding day. Mid-ceremony, the priest asked if anyone objected to the marriage.
A gunman stood up and opened fire on Elliot and his fiancé. They found out
later it was a set up by a gang boss in Reno. The girl was paid to get my
brother to the altar so they could whack him in poetic justice. He brought down
the syndicate and it was retaliation.” Mace lifted his cup and took a long
drink from it. His story was true, every damn bit of it. He loathed talking
about it, since Elliot was the only family he gave a shit about; and he was
gone.

Romeo’s lips puckered with a slow methodical nod. “And what
if I say you’re lying through your teeth, cupcake?”

“Check it out. You’ve got the resources, or do I need to
hold your hand and guide you on how to do it?”

Romeo laughed, wagging a finger at him. “Har har. Not
funny.” A smile fell as he picked up his mug, “If I find out you’re lying,
Mace, I will make you wish you never laid eyes on my sister, and you’ll be
seeing your brother sooner than you think.”

* * * *

When Amy and Stone had come back from the house, Mace felt
the tension and depression that loomed over them like death. He understood what
they were going through, wished he knew how to help them both and bring up
their spirits.

While they went to grab a shower and get rid of the smell of
smoke on their skin, Mace put together some cold cuts, bread, fruit and chips,
a bottle of moscato, and some paper cups. Placing it all in saddlebags, he made
his way out to the barn and saddled up Little Joe and Phaedra.

Going back to the house, Mace waited for Amy to finish and
find her way to the kitchen. He wanted to help her, try and cheer her up in
some way, and he knew riding tended to help. There was nothing like the freedom
one felt when they were riding, whether on a real horse or an iron horse.

He hadn’t heard back from Jones, but figured he wouldn’t for
a couple of days. Gut instinct told him who made the bomb, but he had no proof
and couldn’t go in with guns blazing, or else it would mean losing everything.

Mace looked up when Amy stepped into the kitchen, openly
studying her. The tensing of her jaw betrayed her frustration, her eyes full of
remoteness; he knew then his idea was probably best with the given situation.
Long strides closed the distance between them, his desperate needing to touch
her and let her know he was there for her roared.

He stood in front of her; unspoken pain was alive and
glowing inside her hazel eyes, causing his heart to sink. Reaching up, he
tenderly pushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, tucking it gently
behind her ear. “I know it’s a dumb question, but are you okay?”

Amy shook her head as tears slowly found their way down her
cheeks. “I’m sorry.” She sniffled, lifting a shaking hand to wipe the tears
from her cheeks.

Mace couldn’t help but stare at her incredulously. “What?
Why? You have nothing to be sorry for, Amy.” He pulled her into a tight
embrace, rocking her slowly. “Your world came crashing down around you. If
anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

“I’m acting like such a girl. Crying at the drop of a hat
and just being generally girly.” She rested the side of her face against his
chest, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

Lips brushed the top of her head, allowing his cheek to rest
there. “Ames, you just suffered a major blow. Someone blew up your house.
You’re lucky to be alive. You could have been in it.” Mace pulled back, placing
his knuckles under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Your whole family
could have been in there. You got fucking lucky, and I will find whoever did
this and kill them for it.”

Amy managed a small tentative smile, “Don’t go to jail on my
account.”

“Pfft, I won’t get caught.” Mace waggled his brows. “I’ve
got two horses saddled up and ready to ride. Are you up for it?”

A spark of life ignited in her listless eyes. “Really? I
would love that. Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze
as he led her out of the kitchen toward the front door. “I took the liberty and
grabbed two of my sweatshirts if it gets cold. You’ll just have to deal with it
if it’s too big.”

Her lips twitched, fighting a smile that threatened to form.
“I’m sure it’s just right.”

“You are horrible.” Shaking his head, he scooped up the
sweatshirts and led her out of the house toward the barn. He knew where he
wanted to take her. It would be perfect for her to just let go and try to enjoy
herself amidst the turmoil she and her family were dealing with.

Swinging up onto Phaedra, he reined her around to face Amy.
“It’s not that far, but I have a bottle of moscato in my saddle bag, so I don’t
want to run them.”

The long lashes of her liquid brown eyes fluttered in
surprise, a smile brightening her face. “How did you know?”

He couldn’t answer that he was a cop and it was his job to
know these things. Instead, a thoughtful smile curved his mouth. “I raided your
fridge a while back. I figured Stone and Romeo don’t touch the stuff.”

“Romeo will on occasion, when I make him drink with me.” She
moved Little Joe next to him, “Lead the way.”

Turning Phaedra to the south end of the property, his legs
tightened around the mare’s rib cage, urging her forward. They rode in
comfortable silence, offering up small talk here and there. Mace wanted to give
Amy space but keep her in the comfort zone of having someone to lean on if she
needed it. It seemed to work. He could tell by the tight lines around her lips
she was still fretting over everything, but they were gradually disappearing the
further they rode from his home.

It was a fifteen minute ride to the clearing he wanted to
bring her to. The sun started to lower behind the mountains. A gazebo stood in
the center of the clearing, where they could tether their horses. Mace found
the power switch, lighting the gazebo with hundreds of twinkle lights, giving
the area a soft glow.

Off to the left was a pond and a massive gnarled oak tree
with a low hanging branch. Tied off to the branch was a tire swing that his
grandparents had used when they were courting. He figured being a kid for a few
moments might brighten her day.

Dismounting, he tied off Phaedra and strode over to Amy.
Placing his hands about her waist, he helped lower her off the stallion. He
knew he had chosen right by the surprised parting of her lips and the sweet
musing glint in her eyes.

She never said a word. All he got was a mousy squeak and she
was gone. Amy rushed over to the swing, giggling like a little girl, as she
slid her legs in and started to twist round and round.

Mace was relieved to see her letting go, forgetting her
troubles for a few hours. Opening the saddle bags, he laid out the king sized,
fluffy blanket. Setting out paper and plastic china, he laid out the food and
cracked open the wine, pouring them each a plastic cup full.

Amy flopped down on the blanket as he set her cup to the
side.  She rolled on her back to stare up at the sunset blazed sky. “This was
perfect, Mace.” Biting her bottom lip, she turned her head to look at him.
“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Picking up her cup, she propped herself up
on her elbow. Mace tapped the edge of his cup against hers, then took a drink.
He didn’t care for the wine, he was a straight up liquor lover, but he’d have a
glass with her, even if he’d rather have it on her.

She must have seen the mischievous glint to his eye, “Spill
it.”

Eyebrows arched up as he fought from smiling. “I would like
to, and then when I’m done drinking my fill, I want to make you scream my
name.”

A rush of pink stained Amy’s cheeks as she demurely lowered
her gaze. Setting her cup aside, she pushed herself upright and turned to face
him. Arms crossed at her waist, fingers grabbed the hem of her baby-doll
t-shirt. She tugged it up over her head. Tossing the shirt aside, Amy leaned
back on her hands, which in turn, pushed out her breasts. “What are you waiting
for?”

His gaze riveted to her face, but slowly grazed over her
body as she sat back on her hands, waiting. Mace scooted closer to her,
watching her head tilt back, exposing the creamy expanse of her neck. The
brazen red of her lace bra pushed her small breasts up, begging his mouth to
cover them.

Mace hooked a single finger under the bra strap and pulled
it down her shoulder. Leaning into her, his lips brushed along the smooth skin
at her shoulder to the crook of her neck. Inhaling deeply, his eyes fell closed
as lavender filled his senses. “Lean back further.” He whispered his demand
against her skin.

He heard her breath catch at his dominance, but she did as
asked. She lowered her body to her elbows; the smoldering flame in her eyes
startled him. In her need to let go, she wanted to have her control taken from
her, to be set free in the moment. He would happily oblige.

Mace wrapped his fingers around her neck, but didn’t
squeeze, or try and kiss her. Instead, his palm slowly slid down the middle of
her chest until he reached the front of her bra. Agile fingers wrapped around
the front clasp, thumb and index finger moved in a snapping motion, unhooking
the plastic clasp. Watching the fabric fall open, his eyes raked boldly over
her.

Lifting up his cup, he tilted it over her breastbone,
allowing the bubbling wine to trickle onto her skin. Quick inhale of her breath
was music to his ears, his head dipping as lips parted; tongue darted out to
lap at the sweet liquor on her breasts. His free hand cradled her waist, as his
mouth traveled down her left breast until he reached the taut, dusky pink
nipple. Taking the rosy bud into his mouth, tip of his tongue flicked over her
nipple before his teeth tenderly nipped at her flesh, pulling and suckling it
until she moaned in sheer agony of pleasure.