CHAPTER FOUR
Isaac was simultaneously exhausted, exhilarated, and so turned on he thought his cock might well explode inside her. Lilli. Beautiful name, beautiful woman.
Lilli. He’d have to get used to that. He’d known her only twelve hours, but “Sport” had stuck in his head.
She was completely relaxed beneath him, breathing heavily, her strong, firm limbs pliable, giving easily to his touch as he moved inside her. She was tight, the lingering spasms of her climax still holding him firmly. Drenched with sweat, as he was, she smelled fantastic. He much preferred the natural scent of a woman to the acidic crap so many of them sprayed all over themselves, and Lilli’s scent was intoxicating to him. Her taste, too. Damn, she made him hot.
“I owe you another one.” He bit down on her shoulder, sucking her sweet sweat into his mouth. “You think you can take me again?” Her eyes still closed, she grinned.
He reared back and pulled out of her in one fast move. Then he grabbed her legs and flipped her to her back. She laughed, and what a sound it was, rich and full of pleasure. He didn’t know what her story was—he’d damn sure find out—but she was something special, something to behold. Something dangerous.
Maybe it was just her newness. Living in a town like this, being single and wanting it that way, a man tended to cycle through a smallish number of willing women. Even the girls who came from other towns to hang out at the clubhouse were the same every week. Fucks got familiar pretty fast. The number of women not looking for more was even smaller. Isaac had been slowing down of late, wary of women looking for his ink. Not gonna happen.
But this wild thing writhing under him and looking up at him with bright, avid eyes—they were grey—she was something else entirely.
He hooked her legs over his shoulders and sank into her, pushing her thighs to her chest. She was strong and limber and hadn’t yet balked at anything he’d done—no stretch, no force, no depth had been too much. In fact, she wanted more. She’d taken his cock without complaint. Usually he had to soften a woman up a bit first, get her ready, but Lilli had thrown that back in his face, wanting him to come at her hard.
He was at her hard now, thrusting with all the force he could muster, even feeling the intensity of it himself, his hips and thighs feeling bruised as they slammed against her. She was grunting and moaning, clawing at his arms. He was beginning to have trouble holding himself off. The amazing head she’d given him had bought him a lot of time for a fuck this strenuous, but she was a wild one, hot as hell, and they been going at it for awhile. He tried to distract himself with mundane thoughts, but he just didn’t want to. He wanted to be present here, feeling her, hearing her, smelling her.
She brought her legs up even tighter to her chest, and then her feet were on his shoulders, and she was pushing against him hard. Confused at first, he looked down at her and saw in her eyes what she wanted. He knocked her feet off and gathered her up in his arms, coming up on his knees and lying backwards, putting her on top of him, her feet under his arms. He shifted to straighten his legs. “You want to ride me, that it?”
“Fuck yeah.” She leaned back a little, her hands on his thighs, and did just that. He wrapped his arms around her legs and just held on. Jesus, the muscles in her legs rippled beautifully as she drove her hips down onto him, riding him every bit as hard as he’d ridden her. Her head was thrown back, and her ponytail brushed his legs. Somehow he thought that, that silky tickle across his knees, was the thing that was going to undo him. He’d promised to make her scream again.
He sat up and grabbed her arms, folding her whole body tightly to his chest. Staring deeply into his eyes, she stopped, panting, her breath leaving her body in sexy little moans. For several beats, they simply sat there tangled together in a complex knot, sweaty and breathless, staring into each other’s eyes.
In that look Isaac felt something shift into place between them; he felt it like a thrill up his spine. He had no idea what it meant. But he grabbed her ponytail and brought her mouth to his, sucking the sweat from her upper lip and then kissing her deeply. But softly. She went with it, kissing him back in kind, her hands moving into his wet hair and holding him close. Suddenly, she pulled back with a little gasp and stared at him, her brow furrowing. She’d felt it, too, he knew.
Something dangerous.
She yanked on his hair. “I thought you were gonna make me scream again. That was the deal, right?” She kissed him again, biting his lower lip hard at the end. He tasted blood.
“Fuck! Bloodthirsty bitch.” He rolled abruptly, putting her on her back. Then he grabbed her ankles from behind him and held them out wide as he pounded into her, gaining more and more speed with every thrust. If this wasn’t enough for her, then she was just too fucking much for him.
“Oh, fuck! Yeah! Yeah! Fuck! Harder!” Harder? Jesus Christ. He found something more to give her. And then, thank the blessed baby Jesus, she was screaming, her nails embedded in his forearms. She was tight, so tight, around his cock, and he finally, finally, finally let himself go with a long, loud, extremely relieved groan that came through his chest, his throat, his clenched teeth like it was being yanked out of his very cells. He came for fucking ever.
When it was done, he dropped in a heap on top of her, between her legs. He was still inside her. He was gratified to hear the strain in her breathing, so like his own. At least he’d worn her out, too.
She laughed. “Okay, fuck. That was fantastic. I won’t doubt you again.”
“See that you don’t.” He kissed her cheek. With a weary sigh—he was wondering about the logic of this kind of exertion, since he hadn’t slept last night and wouldn’t have the chance again until late tonight—he pulled out of her and sort of dropped off her to lie at her side. Normally, he’d be up and getting dressed right now. When he fucked, he did it at the clubhouse or at the chick’s house, and he did not cuddle. Cuddling is where complications happened. But he didn’t think he could move.
Plus, he wasn’t done touching her yet.
She rolled to her side and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “9:30. Does Marie’s stop serving breakfast at some point? Because you owe me eggs and waffles.” She put the phone down and started to roll onto her back again, but Isaac stopped her. Instead, he scooted closer as she lay on her side.
She had a line of text inked up her left side, from her hip to about even with her tits. It wasn’t English. That and a very pretty, intricate black and grey butterfly, about the size of his fist, on her left shoulder blade were her only tattoos.
He traced the line of text up her side. “Marie’s serves breakfast all day. What does this say?”
She looked back over her shoulder at him and didn’t answer right away. Then she said, “It’s Italian: L’amor che muove il sole e l’altre stelle.” The words in her voice were beautiful; she spoke as if she were fluent in the language.
“That’s beautiful. What’s it mean?” He spread his hand over her hip and rubbed a long oval over her thigh. He could not seem to stop touching her.
“The love which moves the sun and the other stars.” He couldn’t read her expression.
That sounded familiar to him, and he took a second and searched his head. “That’s Dante, right?”
She turned fast, landing on her back. “Yeah. It’s the last line of The Divine Comedy. You know Dante?” The look on her face was naked shock. That had rattled her. Not the fight last night, not a gun to her head, not him finding her and knowing her name, not the epic fuck. The fact that he knew Dante—that flattened her. He was offended.
“We hicks do go to school, you know.”
Now her look was skeptical. “You went to a school where you read Dante?”
No, he hadn’t. He grinned. “Well, we used to have a town library, too. I like to read. Always have. I told you, there’s not a lot to do around here. So, why do you have Dante inked into your side?”
“My dad’s favorite book.” Instead of saying more, she got off the bed. “I’m starved. You owe me breakfast. I’m getting in the shower.”
“Want company? I need one, too.” He wiggle his eyebrows at her. “Always good to conserve water—we’re on wells out here.”
She shook her head. “That’s okay. I’ll go fast, leave you some.” She walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
Isaac lay back, feeling like he’d done something wrong and not sure why he cared. But there was some insight there into the mystery that was Lilli. He’d need to work that out. He still had the condom on, now looking sad and deflated on his mostly-soft cock. He pulled it off and went hunting for a place to discard it. He ended up dropping it in the trash under the kitchen sink.
~oOo~
Lilli had refused to ride with him, saying she needed to have her car so that she could do errands after breakfast. So she followed him to Marie’s. On the ride, Isaac thought about the events of the past half-day. Far more eventful than usual, they were.
Jimmy had sacrificed only three fingernails to the truth. Meg had tried a couple of dodges around the facts, but Isaac was nothing if not perceptive, and after Vic pulled the nail from the middle finger of his right hand, with its broken wrist, she’d caved completely, ignoring Jimmy’s frantic head shaking.
So now, Isaac knew that the St. Louis crew the Horde was beefing with, The Northside Knights, had some kind of new player backing them, and they were looking to annex the cookers down the I-44 corridor—which was, in its entirety, from Illinois to Oklahoma, Horde turf. They’d just about turned Jimmy and Meg, among the biggest cookers in Crawford County, but they were leaning hard on Jimmy to prime Will Keller for a buyout of his property—a family farm of 150 acres, held by his bloodline for a century.
All of that for three fingernails. Well, he’d known she’d be the weak link. Meg didn’t know why they wanted the property, but Isaac had a damn good idea. There was a lot of dense forest on that acreage—about half the property. The canopy was tight. Good obstruction from satellites. Built right, a fucking meth mass-production center could hide in there. Right smack in the middle of the pipeline.
Mass-produced crank on a scale like that was not going to happen on Isaac’s watch. No enemy of the Horde was going to own property on Horde turf, period. A backer for the Northsiders with that kind of capital—someone who scared Jimmy Sullivan enough that he was willing to be tortured rather than name—was a very serious, very dangerous problem for the Horde, and for Signal Bend itself.
And then there was Ms. Lillian Carson, allegedly from Austin, Texas, but with no discernable Texas lilt in her voice. Bart had come up against the wall quickly, but he hadn’t yet been able to breach it. He’d been perplexed, because she didn’t seem to have worked hard to hide the fact that she was hiding. Her created history would pass the most cursory and rudimentary of checks, something typically businesslike—to rent a house, say, or get a job—but anyone who thought she might be up to something would quickly know she was. Conversely, the wall itself seemed strong. According to Bart, that was a very strange circumstance. He’d said it enthusiastically. Young Bartholomew liked himself a puzzle.
Interesting that she’d shown up the exact same day that Jimmy had gone off the rez. Isaac couldn’t understand how those dots connected. Maybe they didn’t; maybe it was pure coincidence that brought trouble to town on two roads at the same time. But Isaac was paying attention.
He wasn’t one normally to believe in coincidence, at least not without some deep inquiry first, but he found himself really hoping that whatever Lilli was hiding, it wasn’t something that would get in his way. He liked her. He would hate to hurt her.
He would, if he had to. If she threatened his people or his town, he’d end her without hesitation. But he’d be unhappy about it.
Isaac felt sure her name was really Lilli. He caught that vibe right away. She seemed perfectly comfortable correcting his usage from Lillian to Lilli, as if it was a reflex born of long habit. He wasn’t nearly so sure about “Carson.” At least “Sport,” he knew, was hers. He knew because he’d named her himself.
He pulled into Marie’s, Lilli right behind him. Not too crowded—10 o’clock was late in the day for breakfast. The lunch crowd would be coming in soon. For now, there were only four other vehicles in the lot, including the Sullivans’ pickup. That could be awkward. It wasn’t until right then that Isaac realized what a stir he was about to cause, the President of the Night Horde walking into Marie’s for a late breakfast with the new girl everyone was talking about. The smokin’ hot new girl everyone was talking about. The one who’d been seen by the majority of the town this morning, running all over in what people were calling, variously, her underwear or a bathing suit.
Yeah, the tongues would be wagging this Sunday after church. And everywhere, every minute, from now until then. Oh, well. Been awhile since the gossips had something good to chew on.
He dismounted and put his helmet on the handlebars, then walked over and opened the Camaro’s door for Lilli. She gave him a surprised smile and stepped out. Similar getup as yesterday: same low-heeled black boots, slim, low-waisted jeans, simple t-shirt—yellow today—that left just the slimmest bit of belly showing. An extremely distracting slimmest bit of firm, flat belly. No jacket; too hot for that. Aviator-style Ray-Ban sunglasses. She didn’t seem to carry a purse. He added that simple fact to the growing list of fucking sexy things about her. Women with big purses freaked him out. What the fuck was so important they had to carry a damn suitcase with them everywhere they went?
Her hair was caught back in a ponytail again. It was long and thick, a rich dark brown, with just a hint of red in the sun. She did this fussy little thing with the ponytail, wrapping a lock of hair around it, tucking the end in. He’d watched her do it this morning. It was fussy, but he liked it. He didn’t know why.
That was absolutely the only fussy thing she’d done. She wore no makeup or scent—and he would have protested if she’d gone to cover up the way she smelled naturally. Today, she wore no jewelry but the big silver rings, and he was beginning to think those, like his own rings, were more practical than ornamental. She’d done some real damage to Meg’s throat last night.
He almost took her hand to escort her into Marie’s but thought better of it, and instead put his hand on her back, bringing her gently forward to walk in front of him. When the bell over the door jingled to announce their entry, the ten other people in the diner—six customers, two waitresses (including Marie), and, peering over the service area from the kitchen, Dave (her husband and the cook) and Evan, the dishwasher—every one of them turned to see who it was and then stopped to gape. Gotta love the small town life.
Lilli, to her credit, seemed unfazed. She smiled and nodded at whomever met her eyes. He led her to his usual booth; they passed the Sullivans on the way. Jimmy’s three nail-less fingers were thickly bandaged, and his arm was in a cast. Havoc had driven them both to the urgent care center in Cuba and had seen to it that they told the right story about their injuries. From the look of Meg, though, her injuries didn’t really get started until Havoc got them back home. Jimmy was right handed, but he’d obviously overcome that to beat the shit out of his wife with his left. Isaac felt bad for her, and pissed at Jimmy, but it was hardly the first time Meg had walked around town with bruises on her face. Like a lot of women in this part of the world, she was well acquainted with the feel of her man’s knuckles on her skin.
Besides, one of those bruises was Isaac’s. She’d come by that one honestly, but he didn’t relish hitting women. He didn’t give them a pass when they came at him, but he took no pleasure in it, as he had breaking Ed Foss’s nose last night. That had been satisfying. Backhanding Meg had been expedient.
Marie came over before their asses had fully settled on the seats. She turned the coffee cups over and poured for both of them.
“Hey, Ike.” Fuck, he hated that. No matter how much influence he’d earned in this town, he’d not been able to get that name off people’s lips. He supposed he should be glad they’d finally dropped the “Little,” but that had taken his father’s death, even though he’d dwarfed the old man by a good six inches and sixty pounds.
Lilli had pulled a menu from behind the napkin dispenser and was perusing the options. It wasn’t often that people read the menu; almost everybody who ate here was a regular and had long ago memorized the offerings, which hadn’t changed, except for the seasonal flavors of pies and fresh jams, since the day they’d opened.
“Hey, Marie. This is Lilli. Lilli, meet Marie, the best baker in five counties.”
Lilli smiled at her, and Marie smiled warmly back. “Only five? Must be losin’ my edge. What can I get ya, sugar?”
Reading the menu, Lilli ordered. “I’ll have the waffles and eggs—sunny-side up.”
Marie didn’t bother to write the order down. “What meat you want—sausage links, bacon, or ham?”
“Bacon—oh, and can I get fruit instead of the hash browns?”
Isaac dropped his head to hide the smirk he couldn’t control. Marie gave her a look. “Comes with hash browns, not fruit.”
Lilli cocked her head. “Um, okay. Well, how about hold the hash browns and I’ll have fruit extra?”
Okay, he should probably help her out, but he was enjoying it far too much. Marie put her hand on her hip. “It comes. With hash browns. And unless you want a piece of fruit pie or some orange juice, fruit’s not on the menu.”
Lilli blinked, and Isaac took pity on her. “You got the order, Marie. Thanks, hon.”
Clearly vexed, Marie nodded at him and went back to the counter. Then Isaac laughed. He tossed his head back, put his hand on his belly and guffawed. Lilli was just as obviously annoyed as Marie.
“What the fuck was that?”
“You don’t order off the menu at a place like this, Sport. You’d think a country girl from Texas would know that.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Austin’s not country. And I hate potatoes. I can’t even stand to smell them.”
“Nobody hates potatoes.”
“Just told you I did.”
“Well, it’s weird.”
By way of response, she sat back, her arms crossed, and he conceded the point with a shrug. He watched as she poured three creamers and the sugar from three packets into her coffee. That was barely coffee anymore—why the hell even bother? He took a sip of his, black and strong. Then he just watched her. The sun was streaming in through the front window and slanting across her, giving her hair a reddish gleam and making her grey eyes sparkle. He shifted in the booth as his cock filled out a little and caught the seam in his jeans. He had half a mind to bail on the day and take her back to her bare mattress.
“How’d you know there wasn’t trouble?”
Coming out of his increasingly sexual reverie, he shook his head. “Huh?”
She sipped that sweet confection in her cup and gave him a curious look. “You said you were worried there was trouble when you saw my car but not me. But you were all relaxed, leaning back on my deck steps when I got back from my run. How’d you know there wasn’t trouble?”
Because he’d gotten a call from CJ that he’d ridden past her running down the road in her little top and littler shorts. She’d attracted a great deal of attention this morning. She’d attracted attention last night, too. People were interested. And now they were eating together. Again, actually. He rolled his eyes. Town gossips would have them engaged by Saturday.
“Got a call from a brother who saw you on the road. Lots of people saw you, Sport. You might want to cover up some if you’re gonna run all over town. You’ll give the gossips tongue hernias or somethin’.”
Marie brought their breakfasts—waffles, eggs up, and bacon for Lilli, and his usual order of steak, eggs over easy, and biscuits. Hash browns all around. He saw Lilli make a face at them on her plate. He hoped Marie hadn’t seen as she refilled their coffees.
Isaac winked at Marie. “Thanks, hon. You mind leaving the pot?” He needed to fucking mainline the coffee today. His days of pulling all-nighters with impunity were behind him.
Marie set the pot on the table. “You bet, Ike. Let me know if you need anything else.”
As soon as Marie walked away from their booth, Lilli started pushing the hash browns away from the rest of her breakfast, as if they were a contaminant. Isaac thought it was cute as hell, and he sat and watched her. She looked up, and he smiled and held her eyes for a second.
Dropping her gaze to his plate, she gestured with her fork. “I didn’t think you ordered.”
“Marie knows my order.”
“You have the same thing every day?” She grinned at him like that was the craziest thing she’d heard today.
He just shrugged. A girl who didn’t like potatoes didn’t get to judge anybody’s food quirks. “How’s your breakfast?”
She had a mouthful of waffles. “Really good, ‘cept for the hash browns.”
He rolled his eyes at her. She was fucking cute.
oOo~
By the time they’d finished their breakfast and were on their way out, the diner had filled just about full, and every eye on the damn place was on them. They had to run the gamut, greeting everyone. He introduced her as Lilli Carson, who’d just moved in to the Olsens’ old place. Lilli was gracious and beautiful, but he could see that she was uncomfortable. So was he. They were being thrown together in a way he hadn’t calculated, and they still hadn’t known each other for even one day.
When they got out of the diner, Lilli turned to him, sliding her sunglasses back on, and said, “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll see ya,” and walked quickly to her car. He almost let her go—they had an audience. He didn’t need to turn back to the diner to know he’d see a window full of faces. Anything he did to say goodbye to her in a way appropriate to the morning they’d spent together would further heat up fevered town fantasies.
But he didn’t want to leave it that way. Besides, he needed to keep her close. There were things he needed to learn about her. Couldn’t have her sneaking up on him. So let the town tongues wag. Fuck—give them something to wag about. He caught up with her in four long strides, just as she was reaching for the door handle. Déjà vu. He wrapped his hand around her wrist and, with his other hand on her shoulder, pushed her against the car.
“Where you goin’ so fast?”
She nodded toward the diner. “We have an audience, and I have shit to do. But thanks, really. It’s been a good time.”
He slid his knee between her legs and moved his hand from her shoulder to her neck. “Told ya we’d have fun together. Don’t think I’m done with you yet, Sport.”
She smiled, just a little upturning at the corners of her sweet mouth. “Might be done with you.”
“Are you?”
She looked up at him, that little smile still lifting the corners of her mouth. He pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head so he could see her bright eyes. She hadn’t answered. “So, are you?”
By way of reply, she hooked her hand in the open throat of his shirt and pulled him down. When his lips touched hers, she opened her mouth wide to him. She was so damn hot. Forgetting the audience, forgetting the secrets, even forgetting the bullshit he was going to have to spend the rest of his day dealing with, he leaned his weight into her, letting her feel how incredibly turned on she made him, and kissed her like he was ready to have her right there, standing in the gravel lot of Marie’s, the cross on the steeple of St. John’s Methodist Church making a shadow over them. Because he was. They made out much longer, and he might well do it.
With a frustrated growl, he pulled away. “You get to your errands. I’ll see you. Soon, I think.” He smiled and leaned down again, trying on the sound of her name as a whisper in her ear. “Lilli.”
She cocked her head and gave him an appraising look. Then she pushed away from the car, got in, and drove away.
Isaac went to his bike without even bothering to look back at Marie’s.
~oOo~
Bart was sitting at the bar with two laptops open. The clubhouse had a powerful satellite dish, so internet was not a problem there. Neither was TV. They had a huge sest on the wall and threw open the doors to the town for sports events. The big fights and races. Football. Baseball. Hockey. A lot of people were fans of some or all of the St. Louis teams, and they came to the clubhouse to watch and drink free booze. Just another public service of the Night Horde MC.
Isaac walked up and put his hand on Bart’s shoulder. The youngest member, he was their intelligence officer. Very handy, scary smart, and a serious gadget geek. From what Isaac could tell—and he knew his way around a computer okay—Bart was a gifted hacker. He’d not yet encountered intel he couldn’t get his hands on. So Isaac was concerned to see that he looked stressed out.
Part of that might be the six empty Red Bull cans on the bar. Bart was a big guy—nowhere near as big as Isaac, but six feet, probably 200 pounds, mostly muscle—but six Red Bulls was a shit ton of caffeine.
“Tell me, bro. What’s the deal?”
Bart raked his hands over his dusky blond crew cut. He spoke quickly, his voice shaking. He was practically tweaking on caffeine. “This wall is military grade, Isaac. Fuck, it’s practically weaponized. I’m worried that I’m gonna get tagged poking around too much more. I’m in full stealth mode, but I feel like I’m leaving a little bit more of my ass hanging out every time I go at that fucker. I don’t get it. If she’s got a secret that needs this kind of security, why did she put a fucking neon sign on top of it? Took me three minutes to find out her history is faked. I been at this wall fourteen hours straight, and I’m nowhere. No. Where. She just does not exist before three months ago.”
That was certainly interesting news. Made Lilli a lot more dangerous. “It’s okay, man. Pull back. Get some rest. I’ll find what we need to know another way. No sense pushing our luck here. Who the fuck knows who’s guarding her story.”
“When I said military grade, boss, I didn’t mean it metaphorically. Ten to one this is military protection. I don’t know what the fuck that means she’s hiding, but I’m sure that’s who’s helping her. Be careful.”
“Noted. Now, I’m serious. Go back and crash. You did good, my brother.”
Bart smiled gratefully and closed his laptops. He trudged to the hallway leading to the dorm rooms. Isaac watched him go, thinking.
With a wave of his hand, Isaac called over LaVonne, one of the regular girls, who gave especially good head. She’d been lolling on one of the couches, reading a magazine. When she saw Isaac call her over, she came right away, adjusting her skirt up and her knit top down.
“Yeah, Isaac?” Nobody attached to the club called him Ike. That, he could control.
“Do me a solid, sugar, and go back with Bart, help him relax.”
She looked a little disappointed at first; Isaac figured she thought he was calling her over to service him. But she recovered quickly and smiled. Bart was a decent looking guy, not a bad hookup for a club girl. There were uglier patches, that was sure. “Sure thing!” LaVonne turned with a little shimmy in her hip and sashayed after him.
Isaac sighed and went behind the bar to pour himself a cup of what was clearly stale, sludgy coffee from much earlier in the morning. He was too tired to wait for a fresh pot, so he chewed on the black goo he’d oozed into his cup.
One problem addressed and not even remotely solved. On to the next. Maybe he’d have better luck there.