Extraits

Clue in, Sweet Pea, I keep tabs.”

“You keep tabs?”

“You’re mine so I keep tabs.”

I felt my own eyebrows shoot together. “I’m yours?”

“Babe, I’m f**kin’ you aren’t I?”

This was without question. I didn’t see his face but that didn’t mean he didn’t talk. He was seriously bossy in bed and I’d know that deep voice anywhere.

“Okay,” I started, “perhaps at this juncture we should discuss our relationship.”

“Clue in again, Gwen, the reason our relationship is the way it is, is so I don’t ever have to waste my f**kin’ time doin’ stupid-ass shit like discussing it.”

He planted his hands on his h*ps and leaned back into my face. “Yeah, Gwen, I know your name. Gwendolyn Piper Kidd. Thirty-three years old. Self-employed, freelance editor. You pay your taxes on time, your mortgage on time and your bills on time. Married once for two years to a man who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and who has since married three other women and is currently engaged in his fourth divorce. Your father is Baxter Kidd, ex-Army, current construction foreman, married to Meredith Kidd, executive secretary to a hotshot divorce attorney who, incidentally, pulled your shit outta that mess you got into with that ass**le. You hang with Camille Antoine who works dispatch for Denver PD and Tracy Richmond who works everywhere, mostly retail. You string along Troy Loughlin, who’d kill to get in your pants but you have no clue and he has no balls. Your sister is the definition of loser. You spend too much on clothes. When you go out, you show too much skin. And the only man you’ve f**ked for a year and a half is me.”

For the second time that day, my jaw was slack.

Then I closed my mouth only for it to fall open again.

Then I closed it only to open it to speak. “How do you know so much about me?”

“Sweet Pea, I know who I f**k,” he shot back and I felt my body move like he’d struck me and that’s exactly what his words felt like, a blow.

All right, Sweet Pea, Commando Woman Lesson One, you get a text like you got, you call it into base and you do it immediately.”

I was right except uh-oh didn’t quite cover it.

“Hawk –”

“You do not go visit your local, friendly motorcycle club to recruit assistance.”

“Ha –”

“You do not drag your dispatch cosmo girlfriend into your man’s shit firstly, because it might get her ass fired but especially because it might get her ass hurt.”

“Cabe –”

“You do not set your banker friend on a data search that’ll get his ass hauled to the local FBI offices for an interrogation that will be really, f**kin’ uncomfortable.”

Uh-oh!

“Ca –”

“You do not,” he leaned into me, his serious face turning hard, “ever, offer yourself up for exchange.”

“Baby –”

“And you do not go on the lam with your protective custody witness sister.”

“I –”

“Confirm you get me, babe.”

looked at Hawk. “What’d you do?”

Hawk looked at me. “Not a big fan of bein’ tasered, hung on a hook and men takin’ fists to me, babe.”

This was not an answer.

“What’d you do?” I repeated.

“Yeah, what’d you do?” Shirleen asked from behind me and she sounded more than a little curious, actually, she sounded excited.

“Thought we agreed ignorance is bliss,” Hawk said to me.

“What,” I started. “Did,” I went on. “You do?” I finished and he grinned at me, the dimples popped out and seeing them again after thinking I’d never see them again, my heart skipped a beat.

“Commando Lesson One,” Hawk answered. “You got a hostage you know is trained, you incapacitate him. They should have drugged me. They didn’t. They tied my ankles but left me hanging. Tyin’ ankles doesn’t do shit. The power, babe, is in my thighs. I get a head between my thighs, the neck is vulnerable –”

“Okay,” I said swiftly, “I’m done with Commando Lessons. That was the first and last.”

I pulled my purse off my shoulder and tugged it open, muttering, “Ginger. A pain in my ass. A pain in my ass since the day she cut off all the hair on my Barbies. She was three. I was too old for Barbies but they were mine. She couldn’t leave them alone? What’s with cutting their hair?” I looked up at Dog and said, “I think that’s what psychos do. We should have known then. She’s three, wielding scissors and causing mayhem and heartbreak.” I kept blabbing as I dug in my purse, found my checkbook and then kept scrounging for a pen declaring, “She was always, always a bad seed.”

I yanked out my checkbook, flipped it open, clicked my pen smartly, put the point to the check and looked at Tack.

“All right, how much does she owe you?” I asked irately, not happy to be bailing Ginger out again, especially when money and angry bikers were involved.

It was at this point I noted that Tack was staring down at me and he wasn’t being scary anymore. He was looking like he wanted to laugh. It was a good look.

I didn’t want to see his good looks, not his expressions or the rest of it all over his face (and hair and tats and body). I wanted to go home, whip up a batch of cookie dough and eat it. All.“Well?” I snapped.

“Two million, three hundred and fifty-seven thousand, one hundred and seven dollars,” Tack answered, I felt my jaw go slack, his white flash of a smile surrounded by his dark goatee dazedly hit some recess of my brain and he finished, “and twelve cents.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

Tack was still smiling when he dipped his head to my checkbook. “Think you can get that on one line, peaches?”

“Oh my God,” I repeated.

“You need mouth to mouth?” Tack asked, leaning in and I took a step back, clamped my mouth shut and shook my head. “Shame,” he muttered, leaning back.

“My sister owes you over two million dollars?” I whispered.

“Yep,” Tack replied.

“Over two million dollars?” I repeated, just to confirm.

“Yep,” Tack confirmed.

“You haven’t made an accountancy error?” I asked hopefully.

Tack’s smile got wider and whiter. Then he crossed his big, tattooed arms on his wide, ripped chest and shook his head.“Perhaps this is foreign currency and you forgot. Pesos, maybe?” I suggested.

“Nope,” Tack returned.

“I don’t have that kind of money,” I told him something I was guessing he already knew.

“Sweet jacket, peaches, but I was guessin’ that,” he replied.

Well, the good news was, the tufts of fur didn’t turn him off. The bad news was, my sister owed him over two million dollars.

“I think it’ll take me awhile to raise that kind of cash,” I explained then finished, “maybe eternity.”

“Don’t got eternity to wait, darlin’,” he responded, still grinning so huge, if he burst out laughing it would not surprise me.

“I figured,” I muttered, clicked my pen, snapped shut my checkbook, shoved both in my purse and lost my mind.

I mean, I had reason to lose my mind and that reason had a name.

Ginger Penelope Kidd.

“Gwen, babe, think you should calm down,” Dog muttered and I could swear I could read on his face that he was wondering if he should knock me out for my own good.

“Calm?” I yelled. “Calm?” I yelled again. “She owes you guys over two million dollars. She cut the hair off my Barbies. She stole the lavalier my grandmother gave me on her deathbed and pawned it to buy pot. She got drunk and stuck her hand down my boyfriend’s pants at Thanksgiving dinner. He was straight-laced, went to church and, after Ginger’s antics – and the hand down the pants was only the culmination, he caught her snorting coke in the bathroom too – he thought my family was insane, possibly criminally insane, and he broke up with me a week later. He might have been straight-laced and, looking back, probably boring but at the time I liked him!” Now I was shrieking. “He was my boyfriend!”

“Peaches,” Tack called and my body swung to him to see he’d moved into my space.

I tipped my head back and snapped on a shout, “What?”

His hand came up, fingers curling around my neck, he dipped his face into mine and he whispered, “Baby, calm down.”I stared close up into his blue eyes and instantly calmed down.

“Okey dokey,” I whispered back.

His eyes smiled.

My body shivered.

With his hand at my neck, I knew he felt it and I knew it more when his fingers curled deeper into my flesh and something flashed in his eyes that made me shiver someplace he couldn’t see but I could feel. A lot.

Time to go.

“I could probably sell plasma and a kidney but I don’t even think that will work so, um, can I just leave my sister to deal with this?” I asked politely, wanting to move from the strength of his hand but scared to do it.

“No one takes a blade to you for Ginger,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” I replied.

“Or at all,” he kept going.

“Um…” I mumbled. “Okay.” I said this because I didn’t want anyone to take a blade to me for Ginger or at all either and I didn’t want that in a big way.His fingers curved deeper into my neck and he pulled me up a bit so I was almost on my toes and his face was closer. Way closer. Too close. Shiver close.

“I don’t think you get what I’m sayin’ to you.” He was still talking quietly. “This Ginger shit heats up, you get on radar, you mention my name, yeah?”

Oh no. This didn’t sound good. This sounded worse than owing a biker gang two million dollars. And I suspected there weren’t a lot of things worse than that but, if there were, Ginger would find them.

“Um…if you’re asking ‘yeah?’ as in, ‘Yeah, I get you’, then no, I don’t get you,” I told him honestly because I was thinking with Tack honesty was the best policy.

“All right, peaches, what I’m sayin’ is, you get in a situation, you mention my name. That means protection. Now do you get me?”

As it was shoes, and Jimmy Choo shoes, reflexively I moved fast, my hand carrying my clutch darting out to catch it before something tragic happened, like a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes falling to the floor.

With my hand resting on the box, I looked at Hawk, my heart beating fast.

“What’s this?” I asked.

He dipped his head to the box and growled, “Open it.”

Hmm. Still unhappy.

I dropped my clutch and wrap to the table, picked up the box and opened it.

Then my heart seized.

In it was a pair of silver, watersnake, platform sandals – slim slingback strap, peep toe, four and a half inch spiked heel. Elegant. Gorgeous. Scary expensive.

The shoes Tracy had been hiding in the shoe storeroom at Nordstrom’s for me for the last six weeks. Shoes I wanted so badly I could taste it. Shoes I told myself I would save to afford. Shoes I was never going to buy because I could never afford them, even with Tracy’s discount.

But my mission was to own a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes before I died. Some women had career goals. Some women wanted to be good mothers. Some women wanted to do their bit to save the world. My life goal was owning really beautiful, really expensive shoes.

“Jury,” the other man at a stool added and my eyes went to him.

“Hey,” I replied.

“Your laptop work okay?” he asked and I suspected Jury was the firefighter and I also suspected he was on the cover of the Denver Firefighters calendar, picture used for the month of July, he was that hot. If the firefighters merged with the police officers and they did a group shot that included Lawson and Jury, the paper might spontaneously combust.

I crossed my legs in the Camaro, studying my shoes at the same time adjusting my bracelet on my wrist for no reason except I liked to remind myself it was there.

“Okay, well, we have to come up with an excuse. You needing to work and me needing a makeup change isn’t going to cut it. We’re seriously late,” I said into the car.

“Babe, we don’t need an excuse. Anyone who sees you in that dress and those shoes will know exactly why we’re late.”

I felt my face pale, actually felt it, and turned my head to look at him. “That isn’t true.”

“Okay, I’ll amend my statement. Any man who sees you in that dress and those shoes will know exactly why we’re late. Including your Dad.”

“Ack!” I gagged then put my hands up to my ears and chanted, “La la la.”

Through my chanting I heard Hawk laugh.

I sighed and as I did, my cell rang.

Saved by the cell.

It was on the nightstand, I reached out, grabbed it and I turned the display to see I had a call from Tracy.

I flipped it open and put it to my ear. “Hey babe.”

“Hi, how are you doing, honey?”

She was tweaked and my conversation with her last night didn’t assuage her tweakedness. Then again, most people lived their whole lives not having a friend who got caught in a drive-by then disappeared for hours because she was imprisoned in a motorcycle club’s compound.

“I’m okay, I just woke up,” I told her, shifted and lifted, leaning against the headboard and I saw movement so I looked down the bed to see Hawk at the top of the stairs. Bare chest again. Bare feet again. Track pants again. Eyes on me.

Mm.

“Are you sleeping all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered as Hawk approached the bed.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yeah, honey, I’m sure. Really, like I said last night, I’m okay,” I replied as Hawk made it to the bed then, whoosh, the bedclothes were pulled down.

My body locked in surprise.

Oh boy.“Are things okay with Hawk?” she asked.

“Um…” I answered as I watched Hawk bend then his fingers curled around my ankles, he yanked me down the bed until my back was to it again then he spread my legs.

Oh boy!

“Gwennie?” Tracy called.

Before I could move a muscle, Hawk put a knee to the bed then he shifted his big frame between my legs.

Oh boy!

“Trace, I think…” I trailed off when Hawk’s hands went to my hips, pushing up my nightshirt and then his head bent and he kissed the skin just above my panties.

My belly lurched in a good way.

“You think what?” Tracy asked then went on quickly without waiting for me to answer. “Okay, I’m going to say it and I know you don’t want to hear it but I’m glad you’re there. I know you’re confused about things but I think this speaks volumes that he…”

She kept speaking but I wasn’t listening because Hawk’s hands kept pushing up my nightshirt and his body was going with it, raining kisses on the skin of my belly and midriff as he went.

“You know?” Tracy asked.

“Um… Trace, I gotta go.” And I did because my nightshirt was under my breasts, Hawk’s hands had spanned the undersides and my nipples had gone hard and tingly.

“Is everything all right?”

Oh yeah, everything was all right. Everything was just fine.

“I’ll call you later,” I told her but it was breathy because Hawk was now kissing me between my breasts.

“You sound funny,” Tracy noted.

“I’m fine, babe, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go. Bye, babe.”

“Bye,” I gasped because both Hawk’s hands slid up and both Hawk’s thumbs did a pass over my hard, tingly nipples.

I flipped the phone shut. “Hawk,” I breathed and then he moved fast.