Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3) by Cynthia Rayne (18)

And the hits keep on coming. His mother was sick, probably dying, and Duke’s stepfather raped him.

“Is that why you studied medicine?”

“Yeah, I wanted to make a difference.” Duke smiled. “You shoulda heard me as a kid—I was gonna cure cancer, wipe it out.”

“And that’s why you help out the clinic doing mammograms.”

Duke shrugged. “It’s somethin’ to do. Anyway, she’d been sick for a while, but she didn’t have health insurance. The nearest low-cost mammogram place was in Dallas, and she’d have had to miss work to get one.”

“And you needed the money?” Rose guessed. There’d been some hard choices in her childhood too. Sometimes, they’d chosen between food and heat. 

“Yeah, we lived paycheck to paycheck. Anyway, a mammogram would have saved her life, if she’d been able to have one. Justin had insurance and money so she got top notch medical care—the bastard did that much at least.”

Rose couldn’t stop herself, the questions kept coming.

“And Justin… he’s gone, right?” If anyone deserved to be dead, Justin did.

“Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate.

“What stopped him? How’d you get free?” She had to know.

“My fists.” He rubbed the back of one hand absently. “But this isn’t about me. When or if you ever want to talk about what happened to you, I’m here. I understand it.”

“Thank you.” She wanted to ask him even more questions, but she knew this wasn’t the time. “I won’t share your confidence with anyone.”

Silently, Duke returned to his task of massaging her. He gently rubbed her calf muscle.

“Does your ankle feel better?”

“Yes, thanks.”

Actually, everything felt better.

Rose didn’t feel alone anymore. Duke understood her better than anyone in the world, even her sister. She no longer felt like such a damaged head case. She’d believed she was damned, trapped in the pain and the fear. Duke had been through hell too—and somehow he was still standing. Maybe there was hope for her as well.

“I’m glad. I… I like easin’ your pain.”

The room filled with a therapeutic stillness, a shared quiet. Neither one of them spoke, just silently relaxed in the other’s company.

There was nothing in the world but Duke’s big, broad hands on her skin. Rose relaxed and let go. She laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.

Before long, Rose fell asleep.

***

Duke let her doze in his bed.

If he were smart, he’d gather her up and take her tempting ass back to the hotel, but he’d gone and lost his shit. He’d babbled away to her about his fucked-up past too.

Why the hell did I fess up?

Duke never let women sleep in his bed. Sometimes, they stayed over in The Vault, but it was downstairs on a whole other level of the house, so it wasn’t intimate. A couple of times he’d shared a hotel room with one, but it’d been a routine need to sleep. Nothing more.

As a rule, he didn’t get close to the women he boned. Duke kept them on the outer edges of his life. They were a source of fun, of stress relief.

Sure, he fucked them, played with them, and he even did the whole aftercare thing with his subs. The cuddly shit always came after a good deep dicking. Duke couldn’t deal with the emotional, sharing, kumbaya crap. While he didn’t do the wham bam Ryker manwhore routine, he didn’t date women either. They didn’t share meals or their lives with him—just their bodies and some small talk.

The way Duke thought about it, being fucked in the ass against his will had left him fucked in the head—a real shitty two-for-one sort of deal. It was probably some self-protection crap, but it suited him, but for some reason he couldn’t figure out, he liked having Rose in his home, in his bed. All of this felt… right somehow. Like she belonged here, with him. He didn’t want her to go home.

In short, he was in some seriously deep shit.

Sharing his past hadn’t been easy, but it’d popped out anyway. Duke still couldn’t believe he’d confessed it to her. He’d shoved all of it deep down and tried to never think about Justin except when it bubbled to the surface accidently—such as when Ryker accused Duke of liking dick.

It was probably some macho bullshit, but being reamed all the damned time and occasionally getting off during the process made him question his own sexuality. For a long time, he wondered if he was gay, but after Duke fucked his first woman, everything came into focus. He knew for damn sure he loved pussy.

Later, he’d read up on the subject, trying to understand what the fuck had happened to him. Duke discovered his response had been a simple physical reaction, caused by stimulation of the prostate gland—to put a clinical spin on it. 

Unfortunately, he was still guarded around gay men. Yeah, he knew Justin was a pedophile, not a gay man, according to the textbooks. Being a gay man and fucking other adult gay men wasn’t the same as having a hard-on for teenage boys and preying on them. Duke understood it intellectually, but he still had psychological hang-ups about it.

And while he might love pussy, he didn’t know how to love a woman, at least not in that way. He’d been fucked up and closed off ever since his bastard of a stepfather had crawled into bed with him. And as stupid as it sounded, Rose made him wonder if maybe he could love a woman. No, not just any woman.

It made Duke wonder if he could love Rose.

Chapter Eleven

“Hello there, cherie.”

Rose glanced up from her phone as Voo slipped into the booth across from her.

The diner was relatively empty—just a couple of prospects doing dishes, visible from the window into the kitchen. On the counter, a small television broadcast a rodeo event–barrel racing.

Coyote sat at the counter with a sandwich and a piece of pie, and a couple of locals occupied a table in the rear of the room.

Speak of the devil, she’d been checking her messages, hoping there might be one from Duke. No such luck.

This morning she’d woken up to find a succinct note from him taped to the coffee pot, saying he had another mysterious appointment She knew it was crazy, but in some ways, it felt like the ‘morning after’ and it was empty not to have him there.

Rose had tried to shrug it off. He’d given her a massage, and while it’d been very intimate, they didn’t actually have sex.

She’d made a cup of coffee and drove back to the hotel—then busied herself with chores and practiced punching the bag until lunch. Afterward, she’d decided to go to Hades. She told herself it was convenient, but part of her hoped Duke might show up.

Rose realized Voo had spoken to her.

“Hi there.” She offered him a smile.

He raised a brow and fixed her with a penetrating stare.

Rose could almost see the questions in his eyes, and she ignored all of them.

Voo whistled appreciatively. “I ain’t sure what you and Duke are up to, but it seems to be agreein’ with you. You look healthy, vibrant. Tell me, have you gotten your joie de vivre back?”

She blushed. Accepting compliments had never been her strong suit.

“Er, thanks. I don’t know if I have it back, but I’m certainly on the road to it.”

“So, what have you two been doing?”

Rose preferred to keep her own counsel on this one. “Nothing much.”

“Like?”

Rose shrugged. “Nothing to tell.”

“Have it your way, cherie. I’ll bring you something delicious.”

“Thank you. I’m starving.”

“You are? Now that’s good news. I’ll load up your plate.” Voodoo drifted off to the kitchen and started barking orders at the prospects who scrambled to comply.

Coyote drifted over to the booth, carrying his dessert.

“Hi. Do you like pie? Because I like pie. I thought maybe you’d enjoy this piece of pie with me—togetherness and fruit. What’s not to like?”

She frowned, unsure of what to make of his babble.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Go ahead and have a seat.” With a sweep of her hand, she indicated the other side of the booth.

Coyote sat down.

 Rose could tell he had a crush on her, but it was never, ever going to happen. She didn’t feel the slightest bit of attraction. And there was the matter of Kent’s video threat. She wanted to know if Coyote had seen it, but she didn’t feel comfortable bringing it up.

He sliced into his pie with a fork and offered her a bite.

“No thanks.”

He shrugged, putting it in his own mouth instead, chewing quickly and then swallowing. “So, you’re still doing chores with Duke.”

Evidently, Voo had spread the world.

“Yes, I helped him clean out the gutters. I’ll probably be back next week to help out too.” That lie came out pretty easy. Hmph.

“Good. You like it then? The club?”

“Yes, very much.”

She used to want to get a million miles away from bikers after dealing with the Raptors, but she liked the Horsemen. They were more like a community, or even closer—family. The Horsemen had been wonderful to both her and Daisy, taking them in. Not to mention offering her protection from the Raptors. She owed them a huge debt.

“Good, good. It’s great, actually. So you’ll be stickin’ around then? In Hell, I mean? You don’t have plans to go anywhere else?”

Rose had no idea what she wanted to do, but this place seemed as good as any to figure it out.

“Nope, no plans. Looks like I’m here for the time being.”

“Fantastic. I mean… uh, good. You know, to not have plans.” He took another forkful of pie as Voo came over with a plate for her.

“Chicken salad on a fresh croissant, homemade potato chips, and a piece of peach pie.”

“Wow. That looks amazing.”

Her stomach rumbled in response. Since she’d been active with Duke, her metabolism had kicked into high gear, and she spent most of the day ravenous. Rose had put on a bit more weight, and her skin didn’t quite look so sallow.

“It is. Try it and see.” Voo turned to Coyote. “And what’s goin’ on here?”

“We’re eating.” He lifted his chin as though challenging Voodoo to say something about it.

“I see.  And does Duke know you’re here?”

Rose frowned, staring at the table. “Why? Is this his booth or something?”

“No, Cherie, but I think there is somethin’ here Duke believes is his,” he said with a pointed look in her direction.

“What? No. We’re, uh….” She flushed. What were they to each other, exactly? Friend didn’t seem to fit. Definitely not lovers.

“Yes?” Voo waited for an answer.

Coyote also watched her.

“He and I are friends.” Rose hoped it sounded neutral.

“You aren’t dating him, then?” Coyote asked. 

“Nope.”

“Good to know.” His eyes widened. “I mean, from a purely indifferent third party type of way. Like, hmm… interesting.”

Voodoo rolled his eyes. “Very smooth, brother.” He sauntered off.

She picked up her sandwich, grateful to have something to do with her mouth besides talking. Maybe letting Coyote sit down was a bad idea.

Coyote took a couple more bites as well.

They both chewed in awkward silence.

“Did you watch the video?” Rose blurted it out before she lost her nerve. It was killing her not to know.

If it were possible, he looked even more uncomfortable than she felt.

“I’ve analyzed it. Uh, from what I can tell, it was made in a hotel room. I wasn’t able to pull up enough detail to pinpoint which hotel—the image was too grainy. Duke is supposed to come around and collect it.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. Suddenly, the food tasted like ashes. Rose dropped the sandwich to her plate.

Coyote reached for a napkin from the dispenser and nearly knocked over his tea. He grabbed it at the last minute.

“So, um, maybe you could come over tonight. To my place, I mean. You know, to take your mind off of things. I have an HD TV, as well as Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime. Name your poison. We could hang out and watch some stuff. Or do you play video games? We could have a tournament.”

Rose tried to think of a polite way to turn him down, but it wasn’t coming to her.

“I don’t play video games.”

She could feel his knee bouncing under the table, the vibrations making it shake the slightest bit.

 “Movies or television it is. My apartment is a great place to chill—very low key. I’ve feng-shui-ed the shit out of it. It has very soothing Earth tones, fountains, Zen garden… you name it.”

Duke strolled in the diner, and Coyote visibly paled. No wonder, because Duke glowered at him, nostrils flaring.

He jerked a thumb in the direction of the door. “Leave.”

“Rose and I were havin’ lunch.”

“And now you’re done. Beat it. I need this seat.”

Was Duke in overprotective bodyguard mode? Or maybe Voo had been right. Duke felt he had some sort of claim on her. Whatever the reason, Rose didn’t like the possessive tone, mostly because it was presumptuous. And because he’d left without a word in the morning, leaving only a terse note.

She scooted in and patted the seat beside her. “Why don’t you sit beside me?”

Only Cowboy, Daisy, and Duke had gotten close to her. Inviting Coyote into her personal space was a big step.

With a smug grin, Coyote swaggered over and sat beside her, draping his arm on the seat behind her head. She sat ramrod straight, though, thereby avoiding any touch. Meanwhile, Voodoo watched them from behind the counter with intense interest.

What a mess.

 “We need to talk real private like.” Duke dropped down into the other side of the booth.

“We can talk in a bit, Duke.” 

His eyes were cold and hard as if he could force the other man away from her using only his displeasure.

Rose didn’t know how Coyote withstood the full force of Duke’s ire. 

“So, are you comin’ over tonight?” Coyote asked.

Duke grasped the glass salt shaker, playing with it, but she thought it might shatter in his tight grip.

“Um, I can’t, but thank you for the invitation.”

She wasn’t ready for a date—or maybe the wrong person had asked her. Rose imagined if Duke had asked, the response would be different.

“What about tomorrow night?”

“That’s it! No means no, asshole.” Duke yanked Coyote up by the collar and hauled him out the door

“Hey, stop it.  Leave him alone.”

Rose ran after them, but Voodoo stepped in her path.

“Mais non, cherie. You have to let them work it out—this is a fight between brothers.”

“Even if they're being stupid?”

Voodoo nudged her shoulder with his own and gave her a wink.

“Especially if they’re being stupid.” He walked her over to the window. “Come on, let’s watch. This should be an excellent show.”

***

Duke released Coyote, who made a big show of straightening his Hulk shirt like Duke had somehow sullied it with his hands.

“What the fuck, man?”

“Leave her alone. She’s been to hell and back, and she doesn’t need snot-nosed little shits hittin’ on her.”

“There was no hittin’. Well, there was… but you don’t gotta make it sound so deviant. I like her is all. I just thought she might want to hang out with me… since we’re close to the same age.”

“Yeah, well, she don’t. Move on.” Duke ignored the insult.

“Yeah, I picked up on it. I know she’s been through a tough time, but I ain’t some dickhead trying to get in her pants. I want to do it right, date her.”

“Yeah, well, stop. She’s off limits.”

“The only person who can give an order like that is Shep. Why you actin’ like she’s your old lady or somethin’?” Coyote thrust his chest out.

“I’m not. I’m….” Duke froze.

Yeah, he’d been acting exactly like she belonged to him. Like he had some sort of claim on her. He’d made fun of Ryker and Cowboy for their obsessive, possessive bullshit when it came to their women, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t acting the same fucking way.

“What the fuck, man?  You got some claim on her? If so, tell me, and I’ll back off.” Coyote stared at him, waiting for an answer.

Well, hell’s bells.

Duke couldn’t say he had an understanding with her—but Rose felt like his. More than any woman he’d ever known. Maybe because they’d been spending so much time together. Or maybe it was because every time she got close to him, he felt like he was about to come out of his skin.

Yeah, this was all kinds of fucked up.

“She ain’t my old lady, but she’s my responsibility. When I tell you to back the fuck off, I mean it.” It was middle-of-the-road bullshit, but it might work.

“Yeah? Well, we’ll see what Shepherd has to say about it.”  Coyote made tracks before Duke could use his fists to beat some sense into him.

When Duke looked up, he saw both Voo and Rose watching him avidly, which made his tirade even more fucking embarrassing than it already was.

Duke slammed his fist against the wall and stalked off to his Harley.  He got the hell out of there before he did anything else stupid.

***

It didn’t take long for Shepherd to find Duke. 

After he’d made a scene at Hades, he’d gone to Perdition and drank so many beers, he’d lost count. He felt better. Okay, a bit queasy, but he’d stunned his brain—hard to ruminate about shit, when you had a beer buzz. 

He’d originally been looking for Eddie, but no fucking luck there. He’d asked around, but she was at home, bottling up some ‘shine. Eddie made the best moonshine in Texas, and demand for her product was increasing. A couple of his brothers had approached him, but he’d told them off. Duke wasn’t in the mood for just any company.

Unfortunately, Shep didn’t give a damn whether or not Duke wanted to speak with him. With a grin, he sat down and pulled out a smoke.

“You gonna make me ask or you plannin’ on ’fessing up?”

Duke didn’t even spare him a glance.

“So, when’s the engagement?”

“Fuck off, you snoopy bastard.”

“Can’t. It’s my job, and I have a duty to the club. So spill. What’s going on with you and Daisy’s kid sister?” Shep blew several smoke rings into the air.

“Nothin’. Don’t know what the fuck you’re goin’ on about.”

“Liar. Everyone else is making cow eyes—I guess it’s your turn.” The brothers had been joking about some sort of love bug in the air. 

“I ain’t datin’ her. I’m trainin’ her.”  This was such a fuck up. He had no right to keep her from seeing the pissant if she had a mind to.

“For what, exactly? Last time I checked, we don’t take female prospects. Captain is so fucking old school it ain’t funny.”

No point in trying to keep it under wraps. Shepherd wouldn’t let it go, anyhow. Duke might as well give him the details.

 “She wanted to learn how to fight. Rose got a video threat from the sick fuck who kept her prisoner, and he said he wanted her back. So she needed to be prepared if he comes after her again.”

His mouth fell open for a moment. Shep slapped a hand against the table. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell the club?”

“She asked me not to. Besides, our main priority has been shuttin’ down the Raptor’s brothel. Kent’s no longer with the Raptors, so I didn’t figure finding him was a big priority.”

“It isn’t, but it’s still a priority.”

“I planned on bringing y’all in when numb-nuts shows up.” It was only a matter of time before Kent made his move. He’d give this to the bastard, though–he was patient, a real Machiavelli type.

“Does her sister know?”

“Fuck, no, and I’d appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut about it.”

Shepherd shook his head. “Oh, yeah, that’s gonna work out real well for you.”

“I ain’t afraid of her sister.” Duke drained his beer.

“Funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“Never figured you for an idiot.” Shep chuckled. “I ain’t seen you like this over a woman. Who are you and whatcha done with Duke?”

“It ain’t like that.” He didn’t know who he was trying to convince, himself or Shep.

“Oh, yes, it is. You must want her pretty bad.”

“I’m protecting her.” Yet the thought of the baby biker cuddling up with Rose made his blood boil.

“And threatening other men who invite her over to watch movies. I hate to say it, well, actually, I’m lying. I love saying it, but Coyote is the right age for her, cradle robber.”

Like he didn’t fucking know it already?  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. We ain’t datin’.”

“Uh-huh. Tell me another one. Don’t you think you’re a bit old for her? I mean, you could be her father.” Shep curled his lip.

Speaking of blood boiling.

“I ain’t her dad.”

“But you could be.”

Duke opened his mouth to argue.

“I can do this all night,” Shep said, cutting him off.

“Why the fuck do you even care?”

“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve kept people at arm’s length. Figure it’s a good thing—you gettin’ close to someone. I told Coyote to back off so there’s no need to put the hurt on him.”

“I wouldn’t have… I only wanted to make a point.”

“Shit. You’re lyin’ outta your ass. You know, it ain’t the worst thing in the world. Lettin’ someone in.”

“We aren’t havin’ this conversation.”

“Admit it. You like this girl.”

“Okay, there’s some sort of… connection. Not sure what it is.” Duke hoped the admission was enough to get Shep off his back. 

It wouldn’t work out between him and Rose. They both had fucked up pasts, not to mention the psycho stalking her at the moment. The way he figured it, Duke was doomed to live in the friend zone with her while he jerked himself off in the shower for the next couple of months, until another hellion attracted his dick’s attention.

“What kind of connection? The kind where you want to put your cock in her pussy?”

“I’m not tryin’ to fuck her.” Duke hoped it sounded believable.

“If you’re lookin’ for fun, there’s plenty of other girls, but if you want somethin’ more, it’s a different story.”

“I don’t want any of those girls.” His cock had decided to accept no substitutes.

“Including the hellion you’re currently supposed to be fucking.”

“Shit.”

Duke knew he should deal with her soon, but fuck if he wanted to. One thing was for damn sure, he wasn’t thinking about Chesty anymore. It wasn’t fair to screw her and pine for another woman. He’d have to cut her loose.

Frankly, he’d rather go back to prison than deal with this drama—it was always awkward. He hated emotional scenes, and she was sure to cause one. She’d gotten possessive in the past few weeks.

“Yeah, a woman scorned and all. If I were you? I’d handle it before the situation blew up.”

Duke nodded. “I get it.” Fuck if he wanted a lecture from the guy who always remained on the sidelines, though. “Yeah, well, you date as much as a monk. I don’t need relationship advice from you.”

Shepherd’s face shut down. “Not all of us think about gettin’ our dicks wet. I got a lot on my plate.”

Duke knew he was being an ass, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Trust me. There’s always time for pussy.” Made him a hypocrite, though—because he didn’t make time to fuck Chesty.

 “You don’t say?” Shep studied the end of his cigarette. “I’ve never found it to be the case.”

The comment didn’t make much sense to Duke, so he ignored it.

“I know I’m bein’ an asshole today. I don’t mean to be, man.”

“Only today?”

“Ha fucking ha. Let’s talk about your plate for a change and what I can do to help.”

“I’m fine, brother.”

“I mean it. What can I do?”

“I told you—I got this. There’s nothin’ you can do.” Shep jumped down from the stool. “Think about what I said. The longer you keep it to yourself, the bigger the mess will be—drag it all out into the light and deal with it.” 

Shep smirked after he said it and Duke got the impression he’d missed something.

After the VP walked to other side of the bar, Duke laid down in one of the crash rooms in the back. The club kept them ready in case any of the brothers got too intoxicated to drive home or they wanted a convenient place to fuck.

As soon as Duke’s head hit the pillow, he fell asleep.

Chapter Twelve

Hours later, Duke woke up with a pounding headache, which he cured with a couple of shots of Jack. Deciding not to put it off any longer, he went to Hades in search of Chesty.

Duke found her waiting on Pretty Boy and Coyote. He told himself he was being cruel to be kind—cutting her loose would be better than stringing her along.

“Let’s talk.” Duke grabbed her arms and steered her towards the door.

“Talkin’ ain’t what we do best.”

Poor Chesty. She probably assumed he was hauling her off for a quickie.

“Hey,” Coyote said. “Unhand our waitress.”

Duke grabbed the pad from her hands and tossed it to Pretty Boy, who caught it in mid-air.

“Take your own fuckin’ orders.”

Duke found an open hotel room, and she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He propelled her backward. “I didn’t bring you in here for that.”

“You didn’t?”

“We need to talk. Sit.”

She sat and folded her hands on her lap.

“We had a lot of fun, but I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Chesty slumped in her chair and didn’t say a word. She was a pretty girl, in an obvious way—blonde hair, big breasts, tight red top, and jean cutoffs. Everything about her promised sex–yet Duke wasn’t interested.

“What?” Her eyes rounded. “Why?”

He didn’t want to tell her he had a thing for Rose—it was none of her business.

“It’s time to move on.”

“You’re dumping me?” She got to her feet and placed her hands on her hips.

Duke hadn’t wanted to put it that way, but it was the upshot of this conversation.

“I don’t want a scene. I enjoyed my time with you, but don’t make this into a big deal.”

“Duke, if you want to change it up, we can try new things.”

“No, we can’t.” Duke walked to the door. As far as he was concerned, he’d done his duty. Mission accomplished.

“You want to fuck the head case, don’t you?”

“Don’t. Rose isn’t a head case—she’s been through hell.”

After the words left his mouth, he knew he’d fucked up. She’d already been suspicious of Rose, and now, through his own stupidity, he’d confirmed it for her.

“Yeah? Well, fuck you. What is she—eighteen or nineteen? She can’t keep up with you. She’s a kid.”

While there was a huge age gap, Duke knew they’d be explosive together. Their chemistry was nearly overwhelming. He’d never been so eager to sleep with a woman. Like she called to him on a gut level—but he wasn’t about to share all of it with Chesty.

“Whatever. Good-bye.” Duke headed for the nearest exit.

“You walk out, and we’re over like I’m a used condom you tossed away?”

He gritted his teeth. “Don’t act like we had a big romance. It was fucking.”

“Only fucking?”

“What are you gettin’ at?”

She drifted closer so she could poke him in the chest with a red fingernail.

“At least with Ryker, hellions know what to expect. Ryker never spent the night with them, never pretended to have something exclusive. But you? You act like a good guy, but you’re just like Ryker. And you’ll move on to Rose, fuck her until you get bored, and then discard her once you’ve had your fun.”

The fuck? She’d compared him to Ryker? “Is that what you think happened? You got discarded? I was upfront with you about everything.”

“Yeah, and then you didn’t screw anyone else. You kept it in your pants. What was I supposed to think?”

“I’m a serial monogamist. I’ve never felt the need to jump on anythin’ that moves, sweetheart, but I don’t want to play house with you. Or anyone.”

Yet, when he thought about coming home to Rose, it made him smile. Must be the blue balls talking.

“Yeah, I know.” She turned and made a snuffling noise, and he wondered if she’d started to cry.

Duke felt like an ass—standing there, gaping at her. He hated seeing women cry, hated being the cause of it even more, but he didn’t know what to do. If he offered a shoulder to cry on, would it send mixed signals?

Duke stayed still and hoped this thing ended soon.

When she turned around, there were no tear stains on her cheeks, though her eyes were red-rimmed.

“I’m sorry if I misled you.”

“You’re sorry? No, you aren’t. You’re relieved, but you will be. Sorry, I mean.”

“What the fuck are you drivin’ at?” It sounded like a threat to him. “It didn’t have to be like this.”

“Oh, I think it did. The girl you’re so hot to have? She’ll be standin’ right where I am six months from now. Mark my words. You’ll tire of her too. And you know why?”

Chesty hadn’t voiced anything he hadn’t already worried about. Duke had fucked up a lot of situations over the years.

“Why?”

“Because you can’t let anyone in, Duke. The only person you love is yourself.”

“That isn’t true.” He loathed himself, ever since the first night with his stepfather.

“Want an example? What’s my name?” Chesty laughed—the sound harsh and broken.

Duke pushed down the rush of shame and skipped her question. “Are you finished?”

“Oh, I’m finished all right.” Chesty strolled to the door.

“Stay away from her.”

“Why?” She whipped around.

“Because I fucking said so. And if you don’t, I’ll boot your tight ass right out of Hell.”

“Ooh, you’re so protective. Now, anyway. We’ll see how long it lasts.” Chesty sailed out the door with her head held high.

Duke sagged against the wall. He’d broken up with her, but he felt like he’d been let down the hard way.

And now he was worried. Worried she was right.

Would he hurt Rose in the end? Six months from now, would they be having the same conversation?

God, he hoped not.

***

Late in the afternoon, Rose sat on a bench outside her hotel room and bound her fingers with a red cotton boxing wrap the way Duke had shown her. He’d said it was important to protect her hands when she worked the bag. If she didn’t wrap her knuckles, she could break one of them.

As she worked on the left hand, Duke’s hellion approached her. Tall and leggy, she ate up the asphalt. The woman’s exaggerated hourglass figure made Rose feel boyish in comparison. Rose didn’t have much in the hips or breasts department, and she dressed like a fourteen-year-old boy.

“Well, he’s all yours, honey.”

Rose frowned. “Come again?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know—Duke. He’s all yours because he dumped me.”

“Oh.” Rose didn’t know what to say—part of her was elated.

Then reality set in.

Duke had broken up with the hellion, but it didn’t mean he wanted to take up with Rose instead. In all likelihood, he got bored with this woman and moved on to the next hellion. 

“Oh? That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“Yup, looks like.”

Rose could think of a lot of things to say and none of them nice. She settled for heading back to her hotel room. The hellion was obviously spoiling for a fight, and Rose didn’t want to get into it with her. Not because she was afraid—far from it. Duke had taught her well. But arguing over a guy? It was tacky and not her style.

“You know it ain’t gonna last, right?”

Rose knew Duke wasn’t the commitment type.

“So you say.”

“You know he’s kinky, right? He’ll turn you inside out.” She looked Rose up and down as if she wouldn’t last five minutes on a bed with Duke.

What kind of kinky shit?

Rose wanted to ask the question but doubted she’d get an honest answer. She’d overheard the odd rumor about Duke’s sexual appetites, but no one had been specific.

Whatever Duke liked, it couldn’t be worse than Kent’s kinks.

The hellion continued on, moving closer and dropping her voice to a lower octave.

“You wouldn’t have the first clue how to satisfy him. Sweet little thing like you? I give it a week.”

Okay, now I’m pissed.

“You don’t know the first thing about me, but you’re making a lot of assumptions.” Beneath all the bluster, Rose knew what the real problem was. And it made her a little sad. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you.”

“I can see it on your face. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it sounds like it’s over and done with.” Duke wasn’t a nostalgic sort of guy. Rose got the impression when he was done… he was done. “I’m sorry it ended badly.”

Well, almost.

“It’ll be your turn soon enough. He’ll use you up and cast you aside too.”

“If he was such a jerk to you, then why are you here?”

“Maybe I don’t like to be replaced so easily.”

“No one said I was your replacement.”

“Didn’t have to. I know it.” She whirled around, hips swaying as she walked away. “I’d watch your back if I were you.”

What did she mean?

Rose shivered.

***

Rose arrived at Duke’s place with a sense of anticipation. It was ridiculous, but she hoped he’d broken up with the hellion for her—but she didn’t have a chance to question him about it.

As soon as she got in the door, they started sparring, as per usual. In recent weeks, they’d focused more on fending off attacks. This time, he came up behind her, enveloping her in a ‘bear hug’ and pinning both of her arms at her sides.

“Break my hold.”

It was hard to think with his body so close to hers, but she forced herself to concentrate on the training. Quickly, she shifted her weight and pulled one leg back like they practiced, placing it behind Duke’s and throwing him off his center of gravity. He tumbled to the ground, and she fell right on top of him.

“Good.” Duke’s voice was gruff.

Rose was very aware of him beneath her, the feel of his sinewy thighs, his hard body at her mercy. She flipped over so they were face-to-face.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Sexual anticipation was intense, a wicked sort of excitement, and it came from wanting a man’s kiss—his touch. Rose hadn’t relished that sort of hope before. Right now she wanted to kiss Duke again, more than anything in the world.

On impulse, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth—a sweet kiss—almost innocent, but it was a bold move for her. 

Duke groaned.

She tried to gauge his reaction. He looked like a man in pain, his face twisted in agony.

“What’s wrong? You didn’t like it?”

“I liked it too much. Let me up now.” Yet Duke didn’t move at all beneath her, not even a muscle and his eyes were hooded.

“Why?”

He reached for her and then placed his hands at his sides. “My control is hanging on by a thread. Please get off me. I don’t want to make you nervous.”

“I trust you.”

“Do you? Because I’m not so sure I trust me.” He glanced away, refusing to look at her. “I want you, Rose. You’ve no idea how much.”

“I want you too.”

His hips arched— letting her feel exactly how much he wanted her.

“Oh, fuck. Don’t tempt me.”

“Why?” As far as she could tell, this was simple—she wanted him, and he wanted her. End of story.

“I need to be inside you so badly, I ache. And I know you aren’t ready. You’ve been through so much.”

Rose was sick of being coddled. She could make the decisions when it came to her own body.

“Why don’t you let me decide what I can and can’t handle?”

Duke was having none of it, though. “Have mercy on me. I can only stand so much temptation.”

Rose liked being right where she was. He felt amazing–hard, muscled, and so sexy he took her breath away. She could spend the day on top of him. Rose already knew this man wouldn’t hurt her. He’d been her protector for weeks. Watched over her, trained her, and kept her safe.

“I’m not worried. You’re a gentleman.”

“Am I? I don’t feel like one at the moment. God, I want you.” Duke licked his lips.

She closed her eyes, basking a moment in his revelation. She’d wanted him to say so for weeks. “I want you too. I need you inside me.”

Duke groaned, hips bucking. “Stop it.”

“Why?”

It took him a moment to speak. “I think you’re an astoundin’ woman, and you deserve a man who will love you, settle down with you—but I’m not him. I can’t be your boyfriend because I’m not built that way.”

Rose started to deny wanting a relationship, a family. “I—”

Duke sat up, taking her with him and cupped her face, thumb brushing over her lips.

She closed her eyes—Rose wanted Duke to caress every single inch of her.

“And are you ready to let a man in your bed?”

“Yes, I’m attracted to you. I want you. I want this.”

“Fuck. I’m tryin’ to be a good man, but I’m not.” Duke sighed. “If we’re gonna do this, we need to do it the right way.”

A thrill ran through her. “How do you mean?”

“There are some things you need to know about me… sexually. And I want you to be very sure. You need to think this through and make a decision with your head, not your hormones.”

She’d anticipated more kissing and less talking—and she was somewhat disappointed. “Okay. So what do we do?”

“Right now? Not a damn thing. We’re both aroused, and it leads to poor decision makin’. We’ll talk tomorrow mornin’ when we’re both a bit more level-headed. Like I said, there are a lot of things I need to share with you.”

“Like what?”

His voice lowered, had a husky quality. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Most men are wolfish, Rose. We get hungry, and we aren’t looking for love, for commitment. We need sex, it’s a basic necessity—like we need water, food, air. We die without it. That’s why, when a man looks at you, he seems ravenous. It’s like that Lana Turner quote—there ain’t no such thing as a gentleman.”

“No?”

“No, there are only patient wolves. I’m not the guy with the white picket fence, Rose. I am a very patient wolf.”

It shouldn’t have been a turn-on, Duke meant it to be a warning—but it thrilled her in some respects. Duke was starved for her. No, he was hungry for her—starved for her.

“Kiss me?”

Duke shook his head. “No, you kiss me.”

He sat there, impassive, letting her take the lead. She’d been kissed, but she’d never initiated one, made the first move. It was daunting.

She placed her hands on his shoulders awkwardly. “Close your eyes. I can’t do this if you’re staring at me.”

He chuckled but shut them.

Rose got closer, bringing her lips to his—they were warm and soft. She brushed her lips against his once, twice, a third time. All of them innocent.

Duke growled.

Rose wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and traced his lips with the tip of her tongue. He opened for her so she could slide right into his mouth, which she did.

This time, Duke gripped her waist and hoisted her closer against his body. She glided her hands from his neck to the back of his head, slipping her fingers into his thick hair.

Duke finally kissed her. His mouth guided hers in a dance. His tongue flicked against hers, stroking it. He grasped her hips and squeezed her bottom.

A patient wolf no longer, she thought wickedly.

He whispered against her mouth, “We gotta stop right now.”

“But—”

“Come back tomorrow night and give me an answer.”

“I’ve already decided.”

Duke’s head fell back. “The way you look at me. It makes me want to….”

“What?” Her voice sounded deeper, throaty.

Duke locked eyes with her, and his got blacker–like two deep, dark pools. “Keep you in my bed for days for starters.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Say the word, Firecracker, and I will. Tomorrow.”

“But I’m ready now.”

“You don’t know what I’m gonna tell you. It might change your mind.” Duke stood, dislodging her. He braced a hand in front of his crotch.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.” She got to her feet then crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why don’t we call it a day?”

“We didn’t even train long.” She wasn’t ready to be away from him yet.

“My willpower is gone. We’ll have to cut this short.” He pushed a hand through his dark hair.

“You could take me home?”

“Your thighs against mine, your breasts pressed into my back? That’s a bad idea.”

“But—’’

“No arguments.” Duke loped out of the room.

Rose sighed. So much for anticipation.

Chapter Thirteen

The next morning, Rose drove to Duke’s place in the pickup, barely able to contain her excitement. Voo had tried to entice her to eat more than a biscuit this morning, but she’d only been able to swallow a couple of bites—too many butterflies in her stomach.

Rose felt like a kid on Christmas Eve—only instead of sugar plums, erotic fantasies danced in her head, each sexier than the last.

However, the reality wasn’t so sexy.

She found Duke, dressed in his training clothes, riding a stationary bike in the gym. His hair was tousled, and he had dark circles under his eyes. She wondered if he’d gotten any sleep the night before. Rose doubted the insomnia had come from delicious anticipation.

She wondered if he intended to back out, if he no longer wanted to pursue a sexual relationship with her.

“Have a seat, Firecracker.” 

Rose perched on the seat of the stationary bike beside his.

“Are you still interested?” His face was impassive. 

“Yes.”

Duke dragged a hand down his cheek. “I’m not a normal man.”

“Okay. Explain.” In her very short life, she’d seen a lot of abnormal—it could mean anything.

“I like to be in control in the bedroom. I’m the boss.”

Rose nodded. “Uh, yeah, you’re very bossy, but I love it.” His alpha male nature was kind of hot. “I’ve heard rumors you like kinky sex.”

She thought about telling him what the hellion said but decided against it. If she did, he’d end up getting pissed off. Talk about a mood killer.

“Fuck. I wanted to be the one to tell you. The rumor mill is a pain in the ass.”

When Kent had been in control of her, it’d been terrifying, sickening. Duke’s admission didn’t scare her because trusted him.

“I’m used to not being in charge in bed, so it isn’t a big deal.”

Duke paced. “I could see from the toys in his fucking torture chamber, he was into BDSM—but he was a fucking wannabe. No real man would ever force a woman to play out his fantasies.” He stopped, standing in front of her. “There should be limits, rules—it’s why I got into the lifestyle in the first place.”

“Because you were raped.”

He flinched, uncomfortable with the term. Rose understood. What big, strong man wanted to admit he’d been raped? Men were supposed to be the sexual aggressors.

“Yeah, that’s why I like it. Control, I mean, but it should be safe and sane, and completely consensual. What happened to both of us wasn’t any of those things.”

“I know.” She tilted her head to look up at him.

“I don’t want to stir up horrible memories for you or talk you into something you don’t want to do.”

Why didn’t he stop talking and touch her?

“Gotcha.” She placed a hand on his arm. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips.

“Okay, then. Do you want to come downstairs with me?”

Rose licked her lips. “What’s downstairs?”

Duke smiled slowly, sensually, and a bolt of delicious anticipation ran through her.

“I call it The Vault. Wanna see?”

And, yes, from the way he said it, the name should be capitalized.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

***

The Vault was large and had been converted from a basement into an adult playground. The walls were cement, giving the space an industrial feel, but the cold vibe had been softened by rugs and furnishings. The floors were finished–a dark hardwood set in a diamond pattern, giving it a rippling optical illusion. A row of windows lined the outside wall, but they were near the ceiling so the space remained private.

Duke crossed to a large stone fireplace on the far wall and stoked up a fire before he lit sticks of incense in large iron burners. The incense gave off a deep, dark scent–musky like sandalwood. On the mantel were several amber-colored candles, as thick as her wrist, in a long glass candelabra. In front of the fireplace, near a small pile of logs, were dozens of smaller candles, tiny tea lights in glass holders.

He lit all of them, giving the room a romantic glow. A long, black leather sofa sat a few feet from the fireplace, and she imagined herself curled up on it, enjoying the firelight. Rose felt right at home with Duke.

Duke said nothing—just let her soak in the atmosphere.

Along the right wall, a king-sized wooden bed hung suspended in the air by four heavy chains threaded through each of the four bedposts, all of which were securely bolted to the ceiling. The bedding was black and white with a fleur de lis pattern. On the wall was a control panel, near the headboard, which must raise and lower the bed. Near the foot of the bed stood an antique steamer trunk.

Duke had kinky furniture too—a large wrought iron St. Andrew’s cross with black padding on the steel frame, a couple of stockades, and a big padded bench.

“What do you think?” Duke asked minutes later. 

Unlike Kent’s sex dungeon, The Vault felt carnal and vaguely exotic—a room dedicated to pleasure. Not pain.

“I like it.” Her knees wobbled as she imagined all sorts of seductive scenarios.

“Good. Sit down and we’ll have the talk.” He took her hand and drew her to the couch.

“Another talk?” Rose groaned.

Duke laughed. “Safe, sane, and consensual.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She’d expected him to pounce on her as soon as they were in the room. She was both intrigued and irritated he hadn’t. Kent had always been so impatient, dragging her beneath him at every opportunity, but Duke kept himself on a tight leash.

Rose decided to stop comparing the two. Kent had already used up months of her life. She refused to rent him the space in her head anymore.

Duke draped his arm over the back of the couch, leaving her positioned between the furniture arm and his body.

“Before you and I play, we’ll discuss the ground rules.”

“Are you going to have me sign a slave contract? Kent forced me to sign one, giving all of my rights to him.”

Duke placed a hand over hers. “A lot of people in the lifestyle believe in contracts, but it doesn’t work for me—I like things looser. You decide when and if you want to play with me. Anytime you want to call it quits, you can—no harm, no foul.”

Rose sighed. “Good.”

He traced little circles on the back of her hand—soft caresses—they created shockwaves throughout her body.

“I told you I’m kinky, and I get off on being in charge, but I only control what you choose to let me. A lot of people think subs have no power, but they hold all the important cards, and that’s the way it should be. You’ll choose to submit to me.”

That was a new concept—Rose having power of her own.

“Remember those traffic lights?”

She nodded.

“They apply in The Vault too. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good, because we need to get used to each other. Any relationship has to be flexible, especially a D/s one because we’ll both be learnin’ along the way, but I wouldn’t call myself a master.”

“What do you want me to call you?”

Kent had insisted she call him master or sir, or sometimes daddy, which was a creepy mixture of paternal and sexual. It’d be fine if she had agreed to those roles, but being forced to bow, scrape, and obey him made everything sordid.

“Call me Duke—and I’ll call you by your first name as well.” His smile was cocky. “It’ll get your attention, and it's easier for you to remember, especially when I get you all hot and bothered.”

Rose sagged against the sofa.

“Like now?”

Sitting here discussing sex was erotic. Rose was wet for him, and her nipples had hardened into two tight points. God, she wanted this man.

His lips parted.

Rose felt light-headed, dizzy.

“Oh, fuck me. Behave yourself or I’ll never get through this.” He gathered himself together after a few silent moments. “Okay. Let’s do hard limits.”

“You first.”

With effort, she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

She’d googled the term, along with other BDSM vocabulary once she’d gained her freedom. Mostly in an attempt to understand what the hell had happened to her. From her research, hard limits meant activities which were completely ‘off the menu.'

Duke ticked off the list on his fingers.

“I’m not interested in breath play, fire play, or electroshock. The only fluids I share are saliva, the sweetness between your thighs,” he said salaciously, “and my come. Nothin’ else.”

“I agree.”

Kent forced the issue of trying watersports, but she’d been rescued before he’d had a chance to pee on her.

Thank God.

“Good. What about birth control?”

“I use the hormonal kind, an implant.” Rose tapped her right arm, where the drug had been slid beneath her skin. “It’s good for three years. I had it implanted when I started college. My adoptive mom wanted me to have it. She was convinced I’d start sleeping around.”

“What a peach.” Duke inclined his head. “I don’t have any STDs. I got tested a few weeks ago, and I tested my, er, partner at the time—which reminds me, I’m not sleepin’ with anyone else. I had a fling, but it ended.”

His hellion had already broken the news, but it was good to hear it from Duke too.

“Good. It’s just you and me then.”

Duke smiled. “And call it a medical hang-up, but I regularly get tested. I’m clean, and I tested you, so you’re good to go. How about we nix the protection? We’ll be monogamous, and you’re already on birth control. Bareback sex is… raw.”

Rose brushed the pad of her thumb over her lower lip. She could almost feel Duke inside her now.

“Uh, I think we should.”

“What else? Anything you don’t enjoy?”

Rose forced herself out the sensual haze. “I don’t want to be fisted.”

Kent had mentioned placing his hand inside her before, and it sounded painful. Rose had escaped before he’d had the opportunity to make her into a human sock puppet.

“It’s an acquired taste, but it’s off limits if you don’t like it. What else?”

Rose thought about being hung by chains from the ceiling again and flinched.

“I don’t like being suspended—I have a fear of heights, and being lifted off the ground scares me.”

“Check. No suspension.”

Duke hadn’t attempted to persuade or pressure her into anything. Rose knew she was making a good decision. Duke and Kent had zero in common.

“What about pain?” she asked.

Kent lived for inflicting it—he’d called her a ‘pain slut’—implying she’d gotten off on her own anguish. Rose could see the pleasure, the excitement in his eyes when she’d screamed. She worried he’d take it too far and inadvertently kill her one night because he was so aroused by hurting her.

“I only do pleasurable pain, like a spanking or nipple clamps. It boosts desire, and I love exploring the sweet spot between the two, but I’m not a sadist. I don’t get off on hurting women—control is my drug.”

That didn’t surprise Rose—Duke had a soft side she suspected not many people got to see.

“And discipline?”

He smirked. “I’ll spank you until your cheeks turn pink. If you like it rougher, I’ll make them glow red.”

“Pink sounds good.” The idea of Duke turning her over his knee and spanking her was hot. She fantasized about him smacking her, then rubbing his fingers between her legs—fueling the wetness, the need.

“Stop it.”

“Whatever do you mean?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, all innocent and wide-eyed.

“Stop fantasizin’.”

“You can’t see inside my head.”

Duke leaned forward. “It’s written all over your face, Firecracker. You need a spanking right now.”

“Whatever you say, Duke.” She lowered her head submissively.

He groaned. “You’re such a tease. Have a little mercy on me—we have to get through this.”

She wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself.

“What about bondage?” he asked.

“I don’t like cages or metal restraints. It’s a hard limit.” Just the feel of metal against her skin made her queasy—she associated the cold sensation with being tortured.

“I don’t do metal. I like soft restraints like leather or silk cords, and I don’t own a fucking cage so it’s not an issue. I do have a thing for rope bondage—have you ever tried it?”

Rose mulled it over. “A little. He preferred metal, but I’ll try more. When will we play?”

“After our training sessions. When we finish sparring, we’ll get down and dirty all over again before you head home. From time to time, you might stay over but not always.” He gestured to the space around them. “I don’t sleep in this room so you’ll have privacy.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Rose was relieved. Kent made her sleep in his bed sometimes like she was his girlfriend. While she wanted to sleep with Duke, she needed boundaries, some distance. Kent had overwhelmed her, taken over her whole life, and it made her leery of letting anyone else get too close. Having sex with Duke was a huge step in itself. Rose wasn’t ready for either the benefits or burdens of a relationship.

“And I need to be very clear. I don’t want any misunderstandings or fallout between us, Rose. I care about you, more than I wanted to—but I’m fucked up. I can’t be your boyfriend.”

Duke needn’t have bothered with the disclaimer.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m screwed up too. I can’t be your girlfriend.” She sighed. “I might never be able to have a normal relationship.” Assuming she wanted one in the first place.

“If you ask me, they’re overrated.” Duke’s mask slipped a bit, and he appeared wolfish, hungry. “It’s time. You ready?”

She could feel the excitement building, thrumming through her body.

“Oh, yes.”

“Stand up,” Duke ordered.

Rose complied.

Duke circled her. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re fuckin’ beautiful, and I’m dyin’ to see more of you. Will you let me undress you?”

“Of course.”

He grasped the bottom of her t-shirt and slowly lifted it over her head, which left her in a sports bra and a pair of yoga pants. Duke hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her pants and tugged them down her thighs, holding them so she could step out of the legs.

Afterward, Duke tossed the material aside. Then he pulled the bra over her head and pitched it on top of the pile with the other clothes, leaving her in the cotton panties. She wished she’d worn something prettier, but she didn’t own anything sexy.

Judging by his heated stare, Duke didn’t seem to mind. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was a mixture of affection and passion.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you, but I want to go slow.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes.” But she felt oddly elated—Rose had the sense she was on the precipice of something incredible.

“I want you to take the lead this time.”

Rose hadn’t counted on that. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been used, but what about your pleasure? What you want?”

Kent played her body like a musical instrument. After he’d make her have an orgasm, he’d tell her it was proof positive she wanted him, wanted to participate in his twisted games. And she’d always felt sick inside, wondering what was wrong with her, why she responded to him the way she did—what it meant.

“Duke, I’m not as much of a victim as you think. With Kent… sometimes… sometimes I came.” It was so shameful.

He kissed the top of her head. “That’s normal.”

She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “What?”

Duke pulled her in close so her head rested on his chest and she felt his heartbeat. Rose stood nearly naked and vulnerable in the circle of his arms, but she felt warm and welcome.

“I did some research when I was a med student. Rape survivors sometimes have orgasms, but it doesn’t mean you wanted it or even enjoyed it. Your body responds, and you can’t control it.”

Rose thought about it a minute.

“I mean, it makes sense, right? Fear and desire got a lot in common. You breathe faster, your pulse picks up.” Duke tipped her chin so she met his eyes. “Kent tried to mind-fuck you with it, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Every time Kent had made her come, she’d been guilt-ridden. Like she’d secretly wanted it somehow—and now she associated sexual pleasure with shame.

“It’s a typical reaction.” He cupped her face. “So don’t carry the guilt around anymore. That’s I want you in charge this time—and only this time. Do what turns you on—I want you to please yourself. Sex should be fun. It should make you feel fantastic, and it’s never been that way for you, has it?”

She shook her head. It’d always been about pleasing someone else, obeying commands—satisfying someone else’s urges—no matter how depraved.

“Well, Firecracker, I’m all yours.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course.” Duke winked. “How’d you think I learned to be dominant?”

“You were submissive?” She couldn’t imagine anyone controlling Duke. Talk about having a tiger by the tail.

Duke smirked. “In undergrad, my English professor had a thing for me. She had a rep for being a cougar on campus, and after I took my English final, she propositioned me in her office. I ain’t been the same since.”

“And you… you liked it?”

“No. I fuckin’ loved it. It was the first sex I had since… since my stepfather. I was a mess—shy and nervous, and scared as hell.” A muscle in his jaw worked. “Ashamed. Julia taught me a lot—she was patient, helped me work through my issues.”

“Why did it end?”

“I think you can guess. Once I got my footing, I discovered I’m more dominant than submissive. Like I said, Julia is a cougar—and we weren’t meant to last. She’d think I was ancient now.”

“You aren’t old.”

He snorted. “Don’t sugar-coat it, Firecracker. Trust me, I’m aware of our age difference, but it don’t bother me none if it don’t bother you. I’ll be forty in two years.”

Something about men in their late thirties or early forties fascinated her. They came into their own at that age. They were physically attractive and had their lives together too—or maybe it was a bit of maturity. Guys her own age still behaved like teenagers.

“I like the age. I think it’s perfect, actually.”

“Glad you approve.” His leer was sardonic.

“So I can do whatever I want with you?” It was starting to feel like Christmas again. She’d never had a man at her mercy before, been able to touch one. She was curious about his body.

“Yes, ma’am—more or less.”

“I think you’re wearing too many clothes.” Feeling bold, she crossed to the bed and flipped the switch on the wall, lowering the bed.

“Did you give me an order?”

“Yes, strip, please.” She drifted over to him, waiting, watching.

He immediately pulled his black muscle shirt over his head. He had a faint dash of curly black hair on his chest and abdomen. Rose circled him and ran her hand down along the whip marks on his back—like hers, only faded. They were both scarred—inside and out. Hers would diminish with time, too.

Duke undid his belt buckle and then shucked his jeans. He tossed them both on the end of the bed.

Oh, wow. Duke went commando, and he had a tight, well-defined butt. She was about to run a hand along his sexy backside when he hissed.

“Sorry. Not there. I don’t like my ass played with or touched at all.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to.” Rose stepped around his body to face him.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry.” Right out of the gate, she’d made him uncomfortable.

“No, it’s okay. Shoulda mentioned it before—it’s not an area I find sexy.”

“I’ll avoid it in the future.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Duke cleared his throat. “Now that you’ve got me naked, whatcha gonna do with me?”

“I want you on the bed,” she said. “On your back.”

Duke laid down on the mattress, all six foot four inches of him—he was golden, rippling with muscle.

Rose bit the inside of her cheek. “Place your hands at your sides and keep them there.” It sounded a bit too pleasant to be an order, but she’d never been the boss in any bedroom.

Duke did as she asked. Duke had a large circumcised penis—he’d shaved his balls—and he was hard. Rose hadn’t even touched him yet. She tentatively climbed on the bed with him and straddled his upper thighs, avoiding his crotch. She placed a palm on his stomach, and his muscles jumped beneath her hand.

His teeth sunk into his lower lip briefly.

Rose slid her hands up his torso and then bent down to kiss him. She pressed her lips to his and slid her hands into his dark hair, holding him still.

Duke reached for her once more, as if on instinct, but then slammed his hands back down against the mattress.

She knew he wanted to deepen the kiss, hold her head so he could plunder her mouth. Instead, she teased him with flicks of her tongue, little nips. Never quite giving him full access. Then she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue, asking him to open for her. When he did, she slid inside and tasted him fully. 

Duke growled. 

Rose went for an endless kiss, pressing her body against the length of his and tipping his head back. She kissed him breathless—devouring him. His hips bucked up against her in response. Rose could feel the hard length of him, pressing against her. She slid her fingertips over his scratchy chin then down the line of his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple as it bobbed.

Duke gave a low, tormented moan. “Rose, I need more.”

“Not until I say.”

She explored the expanse of his chest with eager fingers and faltering kisses. He had such a strong, powerful body and he was consenting to her control. When she moved lower again, hands resting on his abdomen, his hips bucked—and his cock twitched, leaning towards her as if it had a mind of its own.

“I think you’re gettin’ the hang of dominance, Firecracker.”

“I'm being thorough.” She kissed a path down to his waist. With a wicked grin, she nuzzled his balls, skipping the length of his cock.

He gave a sharp cry.

Rose took pity on him and mouthed the shaft—kissing only, not licking or sucking. From the fidgety way his hips jumped, she knew he wanted more.

Oh, this was delicious.

“You’re driving me insane. Teasin’ me.”

“I’m a tease? You insisted on a twenty-minute relationship talk.”

Rose started back at the base of his cock and licked him, gently tracing each vein, following it up the length. Rose avoided the sensitive tip.

Duke thrust beneath her. 

She put her hands on his hips and tried to hold them still.

Duke wanted her, really wanted her. For the first time in her life, she had sexual power over someone else, and it was heady. Rose marveled at the situation—she had this big, powerful, devastatingly sexual man completely at her mercy, begging for her touch.

Rose finally tasted the tip of his cock, laved it with her tongue. He howled in response, and his breath came in pants.

Duke babbled, his words coming in a rushed gasp. “God, I want you to suck me—my cock deep in your mouth. Get you on your knees, holding your head as I thrust in.”

Rose grinned. “Maybe, but not today.”

She wanted to try something—Rose straddled him and drew her panties to one side so she pressed the head of his cock against her clit. God, she was so wet, greedy and needy, and he felt so hard and hot—so thick. Slowly, she rubbed herself against him.

“Fuck me,” he growled, staring between her legs. “I need to be in there.”

Duke gripped the bedspread, clutching the fabric to keep from reaching for her. He met her gaze, watching her face as she stroked herself with his cock. His eyes were inky black, and they looked deep into her—missing nothing.

Rose closed her eyes then and concentrated on her own pleasure. For once, it was all about her—a sexual release just for her—one which wasn’t coerced. One she could bask in, feel good about. She writhed against him.

Duke didn’t penetrate her, but his shaft glided between the smooth, slickened lips of her sex. He grasped her hands, holding them in his as she bucked against him.

“Yes, take it, Rose. Take your pleasure.”

Rose rode him hard until she came, leaving him breathless and hard beneath her.

She collapsed on his chest, laying there until her breathing went back to normal. Rose waited for the rush of shame that usually came afterward—this time, she felt warm, sated.

Duke rubbed her back and buried his face in her hair. Still a bit dazed, she reached for his cock, stroking him a bit. And with a sigh, Rose bent and took him into her mouth, loving him with her lips and tongue. His beautiful, graceful hands came to rest in her hair, not directing, merely holding her head, seeking closer contact.

She glanced up the length of his body, and he watched as she sucked him. He made the sexiest noises–sighs, moans, and murmured pleas. She worked him, delighting in the power he’d given her, bringing him to the brink several times until he exploded in her mouth.

And Rose swallowed every drop.

***

Duke held Rose as she slept, her head on his chest. He didn’t do this kind of touchy-feely shit. Yes, he held submissives after an intense scene, but it was only good aftercare. He didn’t feel a need to touch them, per se, but he wanted to be a gentleman, or what passed for one in his world.

Yet Duke couldn’t stop touching her—stroking her hair, the long line of her back. He couldn’t get close enough to Rose. She was literally on top of him, and it still felt too fucking far away.

Rose was dainty and feminine, and it drove him a little crazy. She brought out a side of him he didn’t know he had–made him feel protective, jealous, and another feeling he couldn’t quite place. And, good God, the scent of her intoxicated him–magnolia, a hint of vanilla, and beneath it all, the musky aroma of woman.

I am losin’ my ever-lovin’ mind. Layin’ here in the dark waxin’ poetic.

He’d intended to be all disciplined and shit, start slow—instead, he’d spent the entire day in bed with her—they’d fucked again, but mostly they talked. About what seemed like meaningless shit–stories from their childhood, their favorite movies. He couldn’t stop jabbering away.

His stomach growled—it was the middle of the night, and he hadn’t eaten much all day. He knew she hadn’t either. Duke decided to make something quick and easy for them. Then maybe he could persuade her to get a bit kinkier.

“Firecracker? Wake up, darlin’.”

She grumbled in her sleep, pressing in closer, and Duke laughed at the way her nose scrunched up, looking all pissy.

He tried again. “Firecracker, wake up. I got a hankerin’ for waffles.”

“Hmmm?” She was sleep-rumpled and disoriented. He couldn’t help but feel a bit smug.

“I’m gonna whip up some waffles. You hungry?”

Her gurgling stomach answered for her.

“Come on, let’s get somethin’ to eat.”

They tugged on some clothes, jeans for him, and she pulled a t-shirt over her head. Duke led her upstairs to his kitchen and had her sit at the island in the center, on one of the stools. He didn’t bother turning on the overhead lights—instead, Duke switched the one over the stove on, leaving the room in shadows.

Duke made the batter from scratch with butter and whole milk. Growing up, Sunday morning waffles were a ritual. He used to watch his mom make them from scratch and couldn’t eat one without thinking about her. For some reason, he wanted to share the family recipe with Rose.

They’d get up early, walk to church, and then eat together. They never had much money, but his mother splurged on Sundays. Sometimes she bought thick-cut bacon from the butcher in town, and they really indulged themselves. Even though Duke didn’t go to church anymore, he still made waffles on weekends, and every time he ate one, it felt like a benediction.

By the time he got the batter mixed up, Rose was awake.

She perched on her stool watching. “Wow, you can cook. I’m impressed.”

Duke laughed. “I’m no Voodoo, but I can make this without fuckin’ it up.” He didn’t need to look at a recipe or measure anymore. After pouring the batter into the waffle iron, he pulled a couple of plates from the cupboard and forks from the drawer.

Soon, they both had piping hot waffles slathered in butter and real maple syrup. He loved the way she filled the holes—making little syrup cups out of them instead of pouring it all over the waffle. Rose ate every bit, and Duke made a mental note to make them again for her. She needed some meat on her bones.

After she finished, she smiled at him and licked the tip of one finger, which made his jeans tighter in the crotch. “That was delicious.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” He studied her face for a moment, noting she had a smear of butter on the corner of her mouth. On impulse, he leaned over and licked it.

Her mouth parted, subconsciously begging for a kiss.

Duke was happy to oblige. “I want you again.” His arms encircled her waist, as he deposited a quick kiss on her mouth. “I’ll be in charge this time. Sound good?”

“Yep.” 

“Good. The traffic light rule is still in effect. If I do something you don’t like, stop me.” Duke crossed to a drawer and pulled out a linen dinner napkin. When he’d bought the house, Eddie had insisted on decorating and bought all sorts of girly crap. She’d be horrified Duke was about to defile the napkin.

He wanted to do something kinkier with Rose, but he didn’t want to push her too hard.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her sweet mouth. “Do you trust me?”

She nodded, but there was the slightest hesitation.

“That’s what this game is about—trust. I want to build on our trust until it ain’t a question anymore.” And he knew from experience being blindfolded heightened other senses. He wanted her to drift away, get lost in pleasure for a while.

“I’m gonna blindfold you now.” He secured the napkin around her eyes. Then he lifted the edge of her t-shirt, pulling it up and over her head, leaving her naked.

Duke ran a hand down the length of her willowy body. She was beautiful even though she was painfully thin–her hip bones and collar bones were sharply pronounced, and she had small breasts—a mouthful. Duke loved her tight ass and legs that went on for miles.

“Come with me, Firecracker.” He took her hand, led her onto the deck—it was a chilly evening in late September.

Her nipples pebbled from the cold. “We’re outside?”

“Yes, but it’s the middle of the night—no one is around, and we’re in the shadows of the porch.”

Unable to help himself, he slid a hand between her thighs—her pussy had gone liquid, wet and hot for him. Her mouth parted as he played with her.

Fuck me.

Duke was already swollen and thick.  Sometimes all it took was a look from her, and he got hard. With a groan, he released his cock from his trousers and fisted it, pumping—the head was purple, the shaft straining. He wanted inside her so badly, he thought he might die.

Duke led her further onto the deck, and the boards creaked under his bare feet as he brought her over to a rocking chair. He’d always wanted to have sex in one but never seemed to get around to it.

Tonight was the night.

Duke sat and then pulled her on his lap, lining up their bodies and positioning his cockhead at her entrance. Then he tugged on her hips until she sank down onto him.

“Oh, God.”

Her pussy was a velvet sleeve, fit snug around his shaft, like she’d been fashioned for him—and so hot inside. Fuck, she felt so damned good he never wanted to leave. With teasing slowness, he rocked them both, letting the motion of the chair fuel his thrusts—it created a leisurely but relentless friction, which drove him a bit insane.

As he rocked, Duke pushed her hair to the side and kissed the back of her neck.

Rose hissed in response. 

Duke slid a hand between her thighs to play with her clit—it was a tight nub, and he worked it until she squirmed.

“Duke!”

Rose seized his other wrist, nails digging into the flesh.

He loved it, wanted to see her marks on his body, almost as much as he wanted to mark her. Gently, he traced the raised scars on her back. She deserved to have a different sort of visual reminder, ones made from lust, from desire.

With a growl, he picked up the pace, rocking into her with greater force—the wood beneath them squeaked in protest.

“Are you close?”

“Ohhh, yes.” She trembled on top of him, hips arching.

“I want to hear you come for me—make it loud.” With that directive, he pinched her clit, and she wailed, shuddering on the edge of an orgasm. Duke nipped the back of her neck, kissing it once, before finally biting down—hard.

With a shattered cry, she came.

Duke rocked a couple more times, pushing his cock a bit deeper into her. Growling, he came, pumping his seed into her.

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, Captain banged the gavel on the table, bringing the club meeting to order in the boardroom.

Duke shifted in his seat. He’d never been much of a joiner, and these meetings annoyed the shit out of him one way or the other.

They were about as fun as a vasectomy.

The meeting space had been designed to scare lesser men. The metal entrance doors were stamped with the image of a stallion’s head along with the club name. A quote from Revelations had been carved into the long oak table in the center of the room: Behold a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was Death. And Hell followed with him.

Another Bible quote hung in a poster-sized frame on the wall: And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.

Unfortunately, Duke had to play the part of dedicated brother—that meant giving a flying fuck about everyone else’s business. He hunkered down in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and listened as Captain went through old business. He’d never understood the point. Like they’d all gotten fucking amnesia since the last boring meeting?

He’d rather be in bed with Rose. He’d left her dozing in The Vault so he could make it to the meeting. It’d been nearly impossible to pry himself away from her.

“After Rock went missin’, the Raptors have been sniffing around, but they haven’t tried anything yet,” Captain said.

The brothers nodded.

Daisy had shot Rock in the head when he wouldn’t answer questions about Rose’s disappearance. Duke had disposed of the body in the desert.

“That brings us to new business, the Raptors’ whorehouse.”

Coyote nodded, opening a folder in front of him, stuffed full of grainy pictures. “I hacked into the security cams surroundin’ the place. I’ve also been using the bank footage on the corner as well as the liquor store’s feed. It’s a high traffic area, lots of men in and out. They’ve upped their physical security.”

Duke perked up at this news. “What’s their angle? Are they tryin’ to go more upscale?”

Cowboy grimaced. “From what I could see at their strip club, it was strictly junkies and runaways—girls who wouldn’t be missed.”

Coyote shook his head. “Nah, not upscale— more guarded, but maybe they’ve got a new business partner, or an influx of cash. This place is secure as hell—they’ve got cameras, guards, the whole nine yards and then some.”

Steele reached for some papers in his bag. “Frost gave me some reports. They’ve had a rash of junkies overdosing all over the county—all of ‘em stone cold dead. Some of these girls have been missin’ for weeks or months. Maybe the Raptors decided to clean house since Daisy and Cowboy got a good look at their operation?”

“Fuck.” Cowboy slammed a hand against the table. “I shoulda pulled them out of there.”

“It ain’t your fault,” Captain said. “You can lay that at my door for delayin’ this shit. I needed to be sure before I start a war.”

“How about we blame the fuckin’ Raptors?” Shep offered. “They’re the bastards who caused this shit storm.” He turned to Cowboy. “And don’t worry, brother, they’ll pay in blood.”

Cowboy nodded, but Duke thought his brother looked a bit green in the face.

“I’ve got other news!” Coyote said. “I’ve been stalkin’ the Raptors online too. I hacked their website and sent their members Trojans.”

Steele opened his mouth to speak, but Coyote cut him off.

“The computer virus, not the condom. And of course dumb and dumber read the emails and clicked on my links, so now I have all their keystrokes reporting directly to me. I’ve been pokin’ around their servers too, and I found out about their side businesses.”

“Don’t leave us in suspense, brother,” Shep said.

“Porn. They’re doing porn.” Coyote raised both eyebrows. “Oh and drug distribution. This is like sin city–porn, drugs, and sex too.”

Steele shook his head. “From your tone, I thought this was gonna be good news.”

“Surprise, it’s not. I mean it’s good for me, obviously, because I’ve got fine ass hacking skills. I’m a cyber ninja. I was in and out, and they didn’t even know I was there.”

“Coyote, get back on your fuckin’ thought train and ride it out.” Captain rolled his eyes.

“Right. Back to the main point. I love porn. Who doesn’t? It’s one of the best things about the internet—free and easy dirty pictures, but this isn’t your normal fuck-a-thon. This is kinky, creepy, eyeball-searing nasty.”

Coyote continued on. “It makes sense. These girls come from bad homes without people to miss them. If the girls were turned out with sex skills and flashy wardrobes, they could charge a big price, but they’re abducting women. They don’t have as much, er, value. I think that’s why some of them are… expendable.”

The word expendable sunk in all right. Duke hazarded a guess they were letting johns damage the merchandise. Maybe doing torture porn?

Coyote confirmed his suspicions. “I think… I don’t know… but from what I’ve picked up from some of their coded conversations, they might be doing some snuff films. Or catering to a niche prostitution market.”

“What kind of niche?” Steele asked.

“Sadists,” Coyote answered. “The kind of men who get off on hurting girls.”

“These bastards need to be brought down,” Shep said.

“Looking at their bank statements,” Coyote said, “they’ve made major dinero on this porn crap. They’ve got subscribers from five states. Much more lucrative than running whores.”

“I heard all I need to.  So we load up, yeah? Walk in, guns blazin’.” Steele raised his brows and glanced around the table.

Coyote shook his head. “Only if we want to fuck over my plan. We can’t Hulk Smash our way through this. We gotta go in all stealthy and keep this tight. I want the client list, and they didn’t put it on the server. If we go in half-cocked, they’ll burn the info to keep us from getting it. I only got half of what I need, only the aliases the men use. The bastards viewing this filth need to pay too, not just the Raptors.”

“We ain’t the cops,” Shep said.

“No, but I don’t have a problem going Wiki Leaks on their asses. Why not post the client list? Let people know what perverted fucks their neighbors are? And if the justice system gets involved after that… so be it.”

Duke nodded, but privately, he was more of a death penalty sort of man. Far as he was concerned, the bastards deserved to pay with their lives. Duke wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.

The brothers dipped their heads in agreement.

“I know the best time too.  Wednesday afternoon–that’s tomorrow–they got a club meeting, so the place will be nearly unguarded—only a few prospects. I’ll be going so I can get the info, but I need a good shooter—or two, or three or more.”

Everyone glanced at Cowboy, who shook his head. “No can do, they know my face. As soon as they saw me, they’d know somethin’ was up.”

Cowboy had learned trick shooting in the rodeo, and he never missed a shot.

“What about Duke? And one of the prospects,” Captain put in.

Duke smiled. No problem here.

“That ain’t much firepower,” Shep said. “I’ll go too.”

“Count me in,” Steele offered.

Captain nodded. “Fine, but we’ll keep this operation focused. Get in, release the girls, grab the client list, and get out without a flashy shootout.”

“Which prospect do you want?” Shep asked Coyote.

Coyote thought a second. “Pretty Boy. He’s good in a fight.”

Shep frowned. “What about Fetch instead?”

“Pretty Boy can handle himself,” Duke said. “I ain’t got any faith in the rest of them, but that’s beside the point. And I think we should show some of the footage to Daisy and Rose. They might have seen these johns. They could ID the bastards, give us somethin’ to go on. It might give us more intel.”

“I don’t want either of them getting hurt again,” Captain said. “Unlike the Raptors, we don’t put women in danger.”

“I second that,” Cowboy said.

“All I’m sayin’ is they look at the footage. Ain’t no harm in it.”

“Maybe not physical,” Cowboy said. “But I sure as hell think they’ve been through enough, especially Rose, without bringing up old memories.”

“We need the intel,” Captain put in. “Brace yourselves, brothers, we’re about to go to war. This is gonna be bloody and difficult, but at the end of the fuckin’ day, we’ll win this—then we’ll force those pieces of shit out of our territory.”

Everyone was tense but resigned. It had to be done.

Some things were worth fighting for.

***

The next day, Duke pressed himself against a cold cement wall as he waited for Coyote to work his internet mojo on the inner Raptors’ CCTV system.  He and Pretty Boy stood on either side of the rear entrance.

Yo had already shut down the outside cameras, and none of the bastards inside had even bothered to investigate. Pretty Boy stood next to him, cell phone in hand, checking for Coyote’s text message.

They’d decided to divide up the doors to the Raptors’ compound and enter all at once, split the focus. The Raptors had left a handful of prospects in charge. Should be easy. Didn’t mean it couldn’t turn to shit.

The place looked like more of a prison than a brothel or a low-rent porn studio. It had concrete walls, and from what he could see through the windows, it looked industrial inside—cement floors and walls, stainless steel tables, and the like.

Pretty Boy got the text and held the phone up to show Duke. He held up three fingers, counting it down, and then Duke kicked in the door, the prospect hot on his heels, their guns at the ready. At the end of the hall, a Raptor prospect came barreling toward them with his weapon drawn.

Lightning fast, Pretty Boy drove the kid up against the wall and clocked him with the butt of his gun—knocking him out before he could even call for help.

It was the prospect’s call, and it suited Duke fine. The less damage they did on this operation, the less blowback the club would get. No need to kill if it could be helped. Besides, the Raptor prospect was a snot-nosed kid. Not much of a threat.

As they rounded a corner, they saw Shep duct-taping another prospect to a chair.  The VP glanced up. “Place is secure.”

“The brothers are gonna hunt you bastards down. We’ll kill all of you, mother—”

Shep socked the little shit in the mouth. “Remember how I decided not to kill you? I will if you don’t keep your mouth shut.”

The kid shut his trap, and Shep promptly duct-taped it.

Duke noticed a blood stain on his shoulder. “You get hit, man? My med supplies are in the saddlebag.”

“Nah. He grazed me,” Shep shrugged. 

Pretty Boy and Shep stood there staring at each other, and Duke swore they were having some sort of silent conversation. Whatever the fuck they said, it seemed to be serious, judging by their twin set of grim mugs.

Suddenly, a scream upstairs raised the hairs on the back of Duke’s neck. It was a woman, and she sounded like she was in agony. Pretty Boy was already halfway up the steel stairs, taking them two at a time.

Shep turned to Duke. “You got this? I gotta call Captain, let him know how it went down.”

“Yeah, I’m on it.” Duke followed Pretty Boy, weapon drawn.

At the end of the hallway, the yells got louder. Duke stared grimly at the solid oak door between them and the screams.

“Well, this is gonna be fun to kick down.”

He raised his fingers to count it down, but the prospect dropped to his knees. Pretty Boy had two thin pieces of metal working furiously in the lock. With a soft pop, the lock unlatched, and the door swung open a second later.

“You're more useful than you look,” Duke muttered as Pretty Boy charged in ahead of him.

In the dingy room, they found a middle-aged man behind a woman strung up by her arms to a ceiling beam. She had angry purplish cigarette burns along the entire length of her body. A sadistic bastard held a lit Marlboro in his hand and had a fucking tent pole in his pants.

“Find another girl. This one's mine.” He held the lit cigarette just under her eye.

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you.” Pretty Boy had an evil gleam in his eye.

Duke raised his gun and leveled it at the guy's crotch. “Yeah, what he said.”

“Holy shit.” The man dropped the smoke and jumped back at the sight of Duke's gun, probably two seconds from pissing himself. “Who the hell are you?”

“The fucking cavalry, asshole.” Duke cocked his piece, ready to pump two shots into this douche, execution style, for being a sick bastard, but he must’ve been too slow on the draw.

Pretty Boy darted around the woman and snaked his arm around the guy's neck, twisting him into a choke hold secure enough to make any black ops soldier proud.

He shoved the guy to his knees and scooped the still lit cigarette off the floor.

“You get off on pain, huh?”

“Who… the… fuck….” The man turned tomato red, desperately clawing at Pretty Boy's arm as he tried to suck in air.

The prospect shoved the cigarette against the guy's panting tongue and slapped his mouth shut. Then he threw him to the ground, planted two knees in his gut, and started wailing on him.

“How'd you like pain now, buttercup? Huh? You know you like it.”

Duke was about to break it up. But what the hell? Dickhead was a sick twist anyway, he’d earned a good beating. And if he died, it’d save Duke the ammo.

Besides, Pretty Boy seemed to be enjoying himself.

He turned to the woman, who was shuddering, eyes closed.

“We won’t hurt you—we’re gonna get you outta this hellhole.”

Duke kept his movements slow, so he didn’t spook her. He pulled a blanket off the filthy bed and found the keys to her shackles on the nightstand. Duke unlocked her manacles and wrapped her up.

She sat on the bed, put her head in her hands, and refused to look at either of them.

He reached for her arm, to examine the burn marks, but she shrunk from his touch. Duke would try again after she calmed down a bit.

The man beneath Pretty Boy wasn't fighting anymore. His body had gone slack, his painful cries stopped.

The prospect was bloody, still hitting.

“Pretty Boy!”

No response.

“It's over, man.”

He kept on hitting.

With a heartfelt internal sigh, Duke grabbed Pretty Boy's shoulder, intent on hauling the prospect off the guy and checking for a pulse.

“Kid, it's over.”

Pretty Boy turned like a caged animal and slammed his raw knuckles into Duke's face.

Duke retaliated, clocking Pretty Boy in the jaw with a ground out, “What the fuck?”

“It's over when I say it’s over.”

Pretty Boy's face sharpened with sheer hatred as he turned his back on Duke, set one hand on the perv’s chin, tucked the other under his skull, and twisted until his neck snapped.

“Now it's over.”

Shakily, he slid off the john, looking like a fucking serial killer from all the blood and… other fluids covering his clothes.

Duke tilted his head and raised a brow.

Pretty Boy grinned—fucking grinned—and said, “he's dead, Jim.”

“What the hell was that?”

Pretty Boy stared at the dead man, blinking. Then he fixed Duke with a sneer.  “Some people like beatin’ on the weak—they get off on hurtin’ smaller people. Me–I get off on hurtin’ people like him, people bigger than me.” His gaze pointedly traveled over the extra half of foot of width and breadth Duke had on him.

Duke so didn't have time for this psycho shit. 

While he took pleasure in his position as an enforcer with the club, he had a clean and calculated approach. Duke utilized his rage to do what needed to be done, but he wasn’t controlled by it.

“Get your ass down to Shepherd,” he said tiredly. “I’m sure he has somethin’ for you to do besides makin’ jam out of creepers.”

Rolling his eyes, the prospect stalked out, leaving Duke to coax the woman into letting him clean her wounds.

When all was said and done, the Horsemen seized at least a half a million, but they didn’t count it, and a shit ton of drugs which they intended to flush, except for the weed. They smashed all the video equipment they could get their hands on, including the CCTV. Coyote grabbed the client list as well as the camera feed files. 

The brothers released all the women. Duke handed them all big fistfuls of cash as they left. The prospects were going to take some of them to the hospital, others to the bus station, and they’d made them all promise to keep this quiet.

All things considered, it’d been a smooth operation. While Duke didn’t have a problem shutting it down, he did worry about the blowback on the club. The Raptors would retaliate.

It was coming. Everyone knew it, but they didn’t say anything. Sooner or later, the Raptors would come after the Horsemen, and it wouldn’t be pretty when they did.

Chapter Fifteen

“Come at me,” Rose said, waving Duke towards her with a hand.

It was late at night, and Duke had gone on some sort of Horsemen mission earlier in the day. He’d been vague about what he’d been up to, and Duke had been in a crappy mood when she walked in, but she’d managed to coax him into a better one with some teasing.

Rose was feeling self-assured about her new defense skills. They’d been practicing for weeks, and she was getting more and more comfortable defending herself.

He lifted a brow. “Feeling cocky, are we?”

“Oh, yes, we are. Now, come on—let’s do this.”

“We’re gonna mix it up this time. You’ve been fendin’ off hand-to-hand attacks. What about doing one with a weapon?” Duke grabbed a knife, which was still sheathed.  “We’ll use this as a prop because I don’t want to accidently cut you.”

She glanced at the glinting steel nervously but then realized her uneasiness was probably a good thing. Getting comfortable in their routine would only lead to overconfidence. Rose couldn’t afford to let her guard down.

Duke stood behind her, and she wanted to whirl and face him more than anything but she couldn’t. She needed to wait for the attack.

It came soon enough.

Duke seized her and brought the knife to her throat. “Always be aware. Don’t give him the opportunity to slit your throat. Look for a distraction and do whatever you have to. Talk to him, point out a passing car—anything to split his focus.”

“Okay.”

“Next, stomp on his foot or crack your head against his—break his hold on you. Once he does, make tracks out of there.”

Duke walked through the process several times until she managed to get the jump on him.

After an hour of fighting, they sprawled out on the yoga mats, staring up at the ceiling, bodies sweaty and sore—both of them were nearing exhaustion. The room was shadowed because the sun had set, and they hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights when they sparred. She pulled one arm against her chest, stretching her muscles, trying to work the kinks out of them.

“Are you ready to tell me yet?”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. Duke wanted to know more about her ordeal with Kent.

“I don’t know.”

“I ain’t sayin’ you have to tell someone because you don’t have to. At the end of the day, it’s your own fucking business—but it might help. If not me, at least your sister.”

The thought of telling someone all of those awful things...well, she didn’t want to give anyone those kinds of nightmarish visions. Not everyone could handle what she’d been through.

“I gave Daisy a vague idea, and she saw some of it on her own when Kent kidnapped her. When she pressed me for details, I couldn’t go there with her. It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t been through it.”

“Yes, it is.” Duke raised his arms above his head, and she heard his back crack. 

“Did you tell anyone about what happened to you?”

“Fuck, no. I never did, but I’m not what you’d call an example or anythin’. And I’ve royally fucked up my life several times along the way.”

“Like how?”

“Hmm, let’s see. I gotta lot of options to choose from. We’ll go with a simple one. At eighteen, I had my first assault charge and a jail sentence to boot.”

Rose had no trouble picturing him assaulting someone. Duke had rage as she did, only he was much more comfortable expressing it, and he had it under tight control.

“What happened?”

He rolled on his side to face her, propped his head up on one elbow.

“This douchebag I roomed with in college, Sam Pierce. He had a thing for the girl in my chem class. Sam wouldn’t leave her alone until she said yes to a date. The asshole took her to a bar, got her drunk. Then he brought her back to our room so he could date-rape her.”

Even now, she could see the anger drawing his features tight.

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah, I found them when I got back from the library. He hadn’t remembered to put a sock on the doorknob. When I walked in, Sam was on top of her. She was trying to scream, but he had a hand over her mouth. I didn’t even think, I grabbed him and knocked his ass out.”

“And what happened to you?” She brought one of her knees up to her chest and hugged it. “I’m sure the school was pissed.”

“I got suspended for a semester, had to move into off-campus housing.” He snorted. “My stepfather bought a new student center for the college. Universities can be very forgivin’ if you’ve got enough cash. I did thirty days jail time, had to take some anger management classes, probation for a year.” Duke grinned. “And you know how well that worked out for me.”

“What happened to your roommate?”

“Not a fucking clue. Never heard from him again. His family had money too, and I’m bettin’ they fixed it for him. He’s probably a senator or somethin’—spends his days sexually harassing interns and sitting on his ass.”

“So that was the first time you had a run-in with the law. And you just got out of prison?”

“That’s right—another assault charge.”

“What happened?”

“It’s club business,” he said evasively. “Not much I can say about it, but the bastard had it coming.”

Five years was a long time—it must have been bad.

“It was a guy who made and sold kiddie porn.” He’d answered the question in her eyes.

Her stomach roiled. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t even see the pictures he had. I fucked that one up… shoulda covered my tracks better. I can’t complain too much, though.  In jail, I was a fuckin’ hero for going after a pedophile—made the time go by faster.”

Rose had heard that prisoners didn’t tolerate child molesters, rapists, and the like.

“What about the three strikes law?” Texas punished ‘habitual offenders’ more harshly.

“If I get caught again, I could get twenty-five to life next time.” His face clouded.

“Aren’t you worried?”

Duke shook his head. “I do what I gotta do for the club, Firecracker. No sense worryin’ about it until it happens.”

“You said you had a special skill set you used for the club,” she said, piecing it all together. “You work as an enforcer or something, right?”

“More or less. What do you know about enforcing?”

“Only what I’ve seen in movies.” 

“Now that we’ve gone over my resumé and rap sheet, what do you say we bring it back to you? Wanna talk about Kent?”

Rose swallowed. “What’s to tell? He raped me, daily.”

“And Rock?”

“He took my virginity, and it was horrible. He and I were both drunk, and it hurt. I don’t think I was ready—he just jammed himself inside me.” Rose shut her eyes, shivering at the memory. “I used to fantasize about my first time when I was in high school. I always assumed it’d be romantic—music, candles, and wine. The reality was on a sofa after too much beer.”

“Not exactly perfect, huh?”

“Nope, but at least it was over fast.” Rose sighed.

Duke tensed. “Sounds like your first time was about as good as mine.”

“What was yours like?”

“We’re talkin’ about you.”

Rose thought a second. “This is going to sound crazy, but I preferred Kent to be rough with me. Sometimes when he was nice, it messed with my head. Once in a while, he’d try to cuddle with me or hold me. Like in his mind, we’d made love.”

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away. “You know what? No one has ever made love to me.” Her throat felt raw. “I mean, after all, I’ve been through, why would it matter? But it does. How sad is that?”

Duke reached for her and then dropped his hand. He made a low, pained noise, but she didn’t look at him.

“What about you?”

“I’ve never made love to anyone.”

“Has anyone made love to you?” she asked.

For a long moment, he was silent.

She thought he might not answer, but then his words came in a rush.

“Fuck, no. I was sodomized hundreds of time, usually until I bled. Now I fuck whom I choose, when I choose. It can be wild and sometimes tender, but I don’t make love to anyone. I don’t even know how to.”

Yeah, they were both screwed up.

Duke sprung up from the floor, dusted himself off. “Well, I think we’ve both picked at our wounds enough for one night, don’t you?” His tone was light, joking, trying to distance himself from the emotional conversation they’d had. 

Share time had come to an end. He’d still held a lot back, but she got a peek behind the curtain. It was enough for now.

“Yeah.”

“What do you say we go down to The Vault? Play a little? This time, I think we should try something a lot kinkier.”

Rose shoved all of those hateful memories away and focused on the man in front of her. “Sounds good to me.”

It was time to make some new memories.

***

“Do you trust me?”

Duke always asked the question, assessing their bond. She nodded, and this time, there were no caveats. He’d earned it time and time again.

Duke had ordered her to strip when they entered The Vault. He’d also tugged his shirt over his head, leaving his chest bare.

He guided her to the St. Andrew’s cross and hit a lever which lowered the top portion of the cross until it created a horizontal surface. She knew he intended to strap her to it, and the anticipation rushed through her body like a drug.

“Of course, I do.”

“You do?” A broad smile lit up his handsome face. “Excellent. Then I say we take this to the next level. No safety word tonight.”

Woah.

She bit her lower lip as a flare of uncertainty sparked to life. “No safety word?” Yeah, that was playing without a net.

Duke met her gaze. “Yes. Can you handle it? If not, that’s fine. No harm, no foul. You do what feels comfortable for you.”

She was tempted to say no but wanted to reclaim her life. Would giving herself over to him completely and experiencing a positive bondage scene with Duke erase or lessen those bad memories? Maybe.

She was willing to try. “I think so.”

“Well, we’ll take it slow. Lay down.”

His intense gaze swept over her, and she shivered. She loved the heated, hooded look of his eyes when he was aroused. Rose was starting to get wet— talking to him got her ready sometimes. Rose could see his erection pressing against the fabric of his athletic pants. Even while he maintained an aura of calm control, he wasn’t immune to her either.

Rose cautiously sat on the cross. The vinyl padding beneath her was cool, and it raised goose bumps on her arms and legs. And it made her nipples harden.

He pulled several lengths of rope from the trunk along with a red ball gag, a pair of nipple clamps, and a pink vibrator still in the box.

“I have some fun games planned. I want to see how far we can go tonight.”

She loved the way he said we. Kent had always done things to her while Duke did things with her—it was a small distinction, but it made a huge difference.

“The gag will be the last thing I use, okay?”

“Okay.” She relaxed, lying back on the cross.

“Part your legs for me.”

Rose did, placing them far away from each other on either side of the cross. Duke stepped between her thighs, and she bit her lower lip. God, she wanted him inside her now, and she knew it wouldn’t happen for a good, long while. Duke loved to tease.

He patiently wound the rope around the tops of her thighs as well as the surface beneath her. The rope felt slightly scratchy against her skin, but it didn’t bother her the way metal did.

Then he wrapped the rope around her wrists and attached them to the apex of the cross, pulling them up and over her head, leaving her in a vulnerable position. She could hardly move her arms at all, and she couldn’t close her thighs.

It made her a little edgy, but Duke soothingly stroked her cheek, and she shut her eyes, leaning into his touch.

“Okay?”

Rose reminded herself this was Duke touching her. No one else. After a moment, she nodded.

“Good.” With a growl, he ran a hand down her body. “Damn, I used to imagine you like this. Naked and bound for me, ready to be fucked.”

God, she loved the word fuck. So earthy. That’s what she wanted him to do. Fuck her.

Duke tweaked her nipples, and she bit her lower lip, wanting his mouth on them. Instead, he attached the plastic nipple clamps. She had no breasts to speak of, but her nipples were intensely sensitive. The clamps pinched making them both throb. It wasn’t painful, only uncomfortable. She shivered in her bonds, feeling helpless. 

With this man in control, it was unbearably arousing.

Duke pulled up a wooden chair and situated it between her thighs. He straddled it from behind, and he stared at her sex.

Missing nothing.

“Fuck, you’re wet.” He rubbed her lips.

Sighing, she closed her eyes, completely focused on his fingers. Wanting more. Then he teased her clit, leisurely stroking it until she undulated against his fingers. Rose moaned, pulling at her bonds. It was stimulating, not being able to move. Particularly, with someone you knew. Someone you liked, someone you maybe even loved… well, she wouldn’t go there. Not right now.

I can do this.

She raised up as far as she could. “Will you gag me?”

Dark eyes met hers. “Are you sure?”

“Please.”

A grin lit up his face. “I’m proud of you.”

Duke rounded the cross so he could cup her cheek. He bent and captured her lips in a ferocious kiss. She loved the way he used his mouth with a carnal intensity that made her toes curl.

When he pulled his mouth from hers, he placed the gag between her lips and then buckled the clasp behind her head. There were tiny holes in the ball that allowed her to get air—but it kept her mouth open, prevented her from speaking.

Duke tugged at the nipple clamps, and she whimpered in aching pleasure. Then he reclaimed his position between her thighs and leaned forward to taste her, consuming her like a ravenous man. He lapped at her slowly at first, making her strain towards him. Duke traced the entire length of her lips with his tongue before delving into the center of her, drinking her in.

Rose keened, rocking into him.

With the pad of his thumb, he rubbed her clit while she trembled, her hips moving with involuntary urgency. Rose wanted to hold his head, keep him tight against her, but all she could do was lie there and take whatever he chose to offer.

Duke drove her towards an orgasm with his persistent tongue. He sucked on her clit while his fingers slid in and out of her pussy. Rose cried out behind the gag, struggling in her bonds.

God, she was almost there… a few more seconds.

Duke pulled away, and she groaned in desperation.

“Please.”

He ignored her. Instead, he took out the vibrator and switched it on. She strained to see what he was doing. With an unholy grin, he teased her, buzzing the lips, her inner thighs, but refused to put the toy where she wanted most.

“Pleeeeaaaase!” she managed around the gag.

“Do you want me to put it on your clit?”

“Oh, God, yes,” she said, voice muffled.

He did, making her thighs quiver. Then he pulled it away.

Frustrated, she fought against the rope, trying to get close to him. Duke tasted her once more, his tongue sliding in deep. Her eyes fell shut, rolling back in her head, and she gave herself over to him.

Rose let go and focused on his mouth between her legs, lost herself in the pleasure. It was a heady experience, basking in that bond… that trust between them.

And then the bastard pulled away before she could orgasm.

Duke repeated the process until she was nearly mindless. She pleaded with her eyes, unable to even form words.

“I know what you need, Firecracker. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you hangin’.” He pressed the toy hard against her clit—sending her into oblivion.

Then Duke drove into her, his cock plunging in deep. She wailed at the thick feel of him, the friction he created. He pumped furiously, and the sensation of his dick inside her along with the unyielding vibration of the wicked pink toy he kept on her clit sent her over the edge yet again.

“Mine.” He ran a possessive hand down her stomach, her thighs. 

“Yours,” she muttered. Rose blearily opened her eyes and focused on him.

He finished with a roar, spilling himself into her endlessly.

When it was over, he released the ropes, the clamps, the gag, and carried her to the couch. He stoked up a fire and then cradled her in his lap, pressing kisses to her cheeks, her mouth, and his hands roving over her body greedily. She closed her eyes, relishing the touch.

They didn’t speak for a long time—no words seemed necessary.

Rose was exhausted but content. Duke had given her a delicious new memory. It pieced together a couple of jagged parts she’d never thought would fit together again.

He’d mended her a little tonight.

“I’m gonna head up to my room. I think you wore me out.” Duke kissed her forehead. “You can stay the night here.”

That was their deal, right? This was supposed to be fun, kinky sexy. It shouldn’t have hurt, but somehow it did. Her eyes strayed to the cold, lonely bed.

She felt something for him—and being in the bed alone while he went to an entirely different floor to sleep made her feel isolated.  

Chilled to the bone, she got to her feet and padded over to the pile of clothes she’d discarded. She began to methodically put them back on.

“I’m gonna head back to Hades.” Her tone was offhand.

“You can stay if you want.”

“Nope, I’m good, thanks.” She slid the shirt over her head.

“I’d like it if you stayed.”

For a moment, she hesitated.

No.

Staying here wasn’t an option. She and Duke both had issues. They were both damaged, broken people. He didn’t get emotionally close to the women he slept with, and he’d told her that up front. She shouldn’t have expected more. Rose pulled on the rest of her clothing.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” She turned and headed up the stairs.

Rose refused to look back.

Chapter Sixteen

Another week passed in a blur.

Fighting exhaustion, Rose drove back to Hades after yet another training session with Duke followed by mind-blowing sex.

It was taking a lovely toll on her body—and it was getting harder and harder to leave him.

After they had sex, fucked, whatever the hell it was, she hated the part where she dressed and went back to the hotel. Yet that’s what they’d done every damn day this week. She wanted to stay in bed next to him, sleep beside him. Maybe even wake up in his arms, but Duke resisted the intimacy. He always implored her to stay in The Vault, but she never would.

Duke preoccupied her thoughts. When she wasn’t with him, she wished she was. And she also got the impression he wanted more from her, even if he didn’t ask for it or know how to ask for it.

Something was going on between them.

They had another relationship talk coming in the very near future. They needed to sort this out before one of them got hurt. The problem was she wasn’t sure how to bring it up or what to say. Not like she’d had much practice.

She decided to worry about this tomorrow. Right now, she was bone-tired.

Rose parked the truck behind Hades and walked along the sidewalk. It was beginning to sprinkle outside, and she wished she’d brought an umbrella with her. Voodoo was grabbing something out of his saddlebags and nodded to her as she passed. She idly noticed some broken glass on the pavement, and the floodlights hadn’t come on. Maybe some of the neighborhood kids smashed them?

She keyed into her darkened room, tossed her bag on the table, and headed to the bathroom. Rose needed a long, hot shower. Her muscles were aching from the strain—but it was a good twinge, an ache which came from making herself stronger and more powerful.

She turned the spigot in the shower, letting the water heat before she climbed in. The water heater was old and took its sweet time coming up to temperature. After she began to strip, she padded back into the bedroom, flicked on the light switch, and then froze in her tracks.

White lingerie had been arranged artfully on the bed. 

Oh, my God.

Someone had been in her room.

Kent? But how?

How many times had Duke warned her to be aware of her surroundings? How often had he told her to scan an area, get the lay of the land?

She’d felt safe in this hotel room but no longer. Kent had violated this space too. She hit the floor and peered under the bed. Nothing. Then checked behind the bathroom door. Nothing. There was no closet to check, only a wire rack bolted to the wall for clothing.

What the hell?

The lingerie had been laid out on the bed just so, as though waiting for her to put it on—white lacy stockings, matching panties, and a merry widow along with a white leather collar decorated with rhinestones, which spelled out Baby Girl.

And on the bed was a card.

She snatched it up, ripping open the envelope. It was expensive, thick stationary, emblazoned with flowery script. She recognized Kent’s girly handwriting.

It read: For my slave, a new costume for your homecoming. I love the way you look in white—like a bride.

Shuddering, she dropped the note on the floor. After grabbing her bag and throwing on clothes, she ran out of the room. She didn’t stop running until she got to the truck.

As Rose fumbled with the keys, trying to shove the right one into the lock despite her trembling hands, she was seized from behind. Then she felt a knife blade press against her throat. Gasping, she peered at the reflection in the truck’s window and saw Lester, Kent’s security guard with the cheap suits.

“Evenin’ bitch.” He wrapped one beefy arm around her torso. “Thank you for coming out to the parking lot all by your lonesome. I’ve been tryin’ to grab you for a long time.”

Rose shuddered.

“Never the right moment, though. Your little biker boys were always around.”

Oh, God. How could she have been so stupid? She ran from safety and into a trap.

Rose could feel the beginnings of panic about to set in. Her heartbeat picked up, and she started to breathe heavily. She tamped down on her fear and tried to think. Rose focused on her training, tried to remember everything Duke had told her.

Trying to distract him, she asked, “Did you put that… gift in my room?”

“Nah, I got some inside help—all Kent’s idea. The boss likes to give his girls presents. Freaky and a waste of time, if you ask me.”

Who’d helped him? One of the bikers? A hellion?

Then it hit her.

What if Duke’s hellion had helped him?

Lester made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “I’ve been waitin’ for you to come back fucking forever, cruisin’ up and down the street like I’m in some dumb ass parade.”

Lester pressed her hard up against the truck and then dug in his pocket for his cellphone. He pressed a few buttons, and then she could hear the phone ringing.

She heard Kent’s voice on the line. “Do you have her?”

“Yeah, I got her. I’m bringin’ her in now.”

“Excellent.” She could hear the smug pleasure in his tone.

This wasn’t happening.

Rose wouldn’t let him take her. She’d rather die, right here, right now in the parking lot than be that man’s slave again.

Lester pressed the knife more tightly against her throat. “You remember how much I like knives, don’t you? Now, you’re gonna be a good girl and get in my trunk without kickin’ up a fuss. If you don’t, I’ll give you exactly what you deserve. I’ll cut you, leave you to bleed out on the concrete. You won’t even be able to call for help.”

“I’ll be good.” Rose would say anything to buy herself some time.

Lester dragged her toward a black SUV hidden in the shadows behind the building near the Dumpster. The Horsemen didn’t have security cameras, and with the parking lot so dark, she bet no one had noticed it. He must’ve smashed the floodlights overhead.

Rose knew better than to struggle against the knife. It’d be easy for him to split her throat open. And anyway, he had a knife fetish. He’d probably get off on cutting her, making her bleed. When they reached the trunk, he popped it open and then grabbed a roll of duct tape from his jacket pocket.

“Hold out your hands, Goldilocks.”

That’s when she struck.

She stomped on his foot, hard. Then she reared back, slamming her head into his teeth—it hurt like hell, but it worked. When he gasped and relaxed his hold on her, she brought her fist down hard on his groin.

With a grunt, he finally released her.

“You fucking cunt. I’ll beat the shit out of you for this.”

Rose spun around, drew back, and kicked him square in the nuts like a quarterback with a football.

With a yowl, Lester clutched his balls. His phone clattered to the ground along with the knife.

Rose snatched them both and ran for her vehicle, then shoved the key into the lock.

He came limping towards her, and she spun, lashing out with the knife as she did.

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

Oh, yeah. She was definitely in touch with her anger now. Rose wanted to kill him.

He could have reported Kent, called the authorities, but he’d kept his mouth shut and collected a paycheck. She thought of the way he’d shoved his cock down her throat, participated in her victimization.

Rose wanted to leap on him, plunge the knife into his chest—watch him bleed out on the pavement.

As though sensing her dark mood, he backed away, holding out his hands. “You’re a crazy bitch, aren’t you?”

“You’ve no idea. Why don’t you come on over here, and I’ll give you what you deserve?”

“Because I ain’t got a death wish. I’m gettin’ paid. This ain’t personal. It never was.”

“Oh, yeah? When you stuck your dick down my throat, it felt awfully God damn personal to me.”

“To hell with this. The boss can come get you himself. You ain’t worth it.” Lester backed away until he reached his car. He got in and took off, leaving rubber on the asphalt.

Rose jumped in the truck, jammed the key in the ignition, and headed straight for Duke’s house.

***

Duke opened his front door to find Rose standing there, shivering. Her hair was wet from the rain, and her eyes were haunted.

Something was wrong.

“What the fuck happened?” Duke pulled her inside.

Rose wrapped her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest. Hot tears streaked down her face.

“What is it? Tell me what happened. Are you hurt?” He ran his hands down her body, reassuring himself she was in one piece.

“Kent. He sent his security guard for me.”

“Fuck me. Is he there now?” He pulled the gun from his hip.

“No, I’m sure he took off. When I got to the hotel room, I found lingerie laid out for me on the bed, and I bolted. And then he grabbed me in the parking lot.”

“How’d you get away?”

“I broke his hold, like you taught me.” She slid a cell and knife from her back pocket and handed it to him. “I disarmed him and took his phone.”

“Jesus.” Duke grabbed both of them, setting them on the table. “Maybe Coyote can trace the number and find Kent.” He grabbed his phone and fired off a text message to Coyote. Tomorrow morning, he’d drop the thing off at Inferno.

“Did he say how he got in your room? Hades is swarming with Horsemen. I can’t imagine one of us would let a strange guy walk in a hotel room. Someone from the club had to let him in.”

“Lester said it was an inside job.”

“It wasn’t one of the brothers. I’m bettin’ it was a hellion or maybe one of the fucking prospects. Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of it.” He had a sneaking suspicion Chesty was involved in this. She hadn’t taken their break-up well.

Hadn’t she threatened to make him sorry?

“You’re staying here tonight. No arguments, and you aren’t leaving my sight until I put Kent six feet under. I’ll bury the guard next to him too.”

She nodded, still shaking. “Um… Duke?”

“What?”

Jesus Christ. He could have lost her tonight. If she hadn’t been so brave, the fucker would have carried her off or killed her. The thought alone enraged him, made his heart ache, and filled him with an unknown dread.

“I wanted to kill him. I had the knife in my hand, and I… imagined it. Fantasized about pushing it into his chest.”

Rose was more like him than he realized. “Ain’t no harm in thinkin’ about something. The point is, you didn’t do it.”

“But I wanted to. I still want to.”

“No, you don’t. Once you open the door, you can never close it. You don’t want to become like me.” He hoisted her up into his arms. Duke started to carry her down to the The Vault, intending to tuck her into his big queen bed all by herself, but he didn’t want her there, he realized.

No, Duke wanted to put her in his own bed. Duke knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without her tonight. He wanted to check on her, reassure himself she was all right.

Thankfully, she didn’t protest when he laid her down in his bedroom. He slid the covers over her and headed for the door when her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Don’t go.”

Duke turned back. She looked tiny in the black four poster bed, her eyes impossibly wide.

“Please? I don’t want to be alone.”

“I ain’t leavin’. I’m gettin’ you some water.”

“I’m not thirsty. I… need you. Could you hold me? I know we don’t, um, cuddle unless it’s after a session, but I—”

“You need it. I understand. I’m happy to give it to you. I care about you. I’ll always see to your needs.” Truth be told, Duke needed it too.

He curled himself around her on the bed, pulled her in against his body, and she was still shivering. He wrapped an arm around her, sharing his warmth, and she snuggled against him. Duke held her, stroking her hair, soothing her.

Eventually, she stopped trembling. Her breathing slowed, and her body temperature went back to normal.

Before long, she was fast asleep in his arms.

Duke sighed. He should get out of this fucking bed. He didn’t sleep with women, never allowed them to get this close to him, yet here he was, lying next to her, watching her slumber.

Rose felt good against him, her curves fitting into the hollows of his body. He wished he could tell her a thousand things, but he couldn’t choke the words out. He loved spending time with her, talking to her, and having her in his bed was sheer bliss.

Duke loved the way she poured syrup on her waffles and how she scrunched up her nose when she slept. The sweet scent of her fucking befuddled him to no end. He loved how she trusted him, even after everything that happened to her. 

Duke loved… how… no, Duke loved her.

He cursed under his breath. The realization was startling, but he could feel the truth of it deep down in his bones.

Duke had no fucking clue what to do about it either. He couldn’t tell her. Not right now, because she’d had a shitty night. Duke wasn’t even sure he wanted her to know. After all she’d been through, could she handle a relationship? Rose deserved someone better than him. Someone who wasn’t damned by his past and his own terrible choices.

He should be rounding up prospects and hellions to question, not lying in the dark brooding over her. Yes, he ought to be getting to the bottom of this, but somehow he couldn’t make himself move.

Couldn’t leave this bed.  

This mystery would have to wait until morning.

Duke texted Shepherd, letting him know what was going on and asking him to assemble the prospects the following morning for a come to Jesus meeting. 

For the moment, Duke wasn’t going anywhere. 

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning, after dropping the guard’s cell at Inferno, Duke took Rose with him to Perdition. He refused to leave her alone, and she didn’t protest.

She’d spent most of the morning in deep thought, despite his efforts to engage her in conversation. Duke bet she’d scared herself last night. The bloodlust had come barreling out of her subconscious, and she didn’t know what to do with it.

Duke knew where it’d lead. After all, it was the same path he’d taken. He’d spent decades soaked in blood—went from being a healer to a sniper—ending lives instead of saving them.

Then he’d offered himself up as an enforcer for the Horsemen. All of the men he’d killed had it coming. It was the only thing that kept him sane some days. But he wanted more for Rose. True, she needed to defend herself, but he wouldn’t let her harness the rage and forge herself into a cold, calculated murderer like him.

When he’d arrived at Perdition, he’d sat Rose down at the bar. Daisy and Eddie were talking when they walked in and both women looked at him questioningly, but he shook his head. Rose could explain while he went to the meeting.

In the meeting room, the prospects sat in a row, eyes wide and fucking terrified.

That kind of fear always made Duke smile.

Shepherd stood behind them. They’d exchanged a few texts this morning so he knew exactly what the fuck was going on, and the VP was pissed too. Well, pissed and tired. Like a zombie with hair sticking up, the beginnings of a long-ass blond beard on his cheeks, and a big set of bags under his eyes.

As soon as Duke got in the room, Shepherd started in on them, pacing back and forth like a parole officer with a row of particularly stupid juvenile delinquents.

“Club loyalty is very important to the Horsemen. We protect our own and betraying the trust is serious. Anyone want to confess your sins?” Shep asked.

Duke sighed.

He didn’t fucking have time for a life lesson Leave it to Beaver sort of moment right now. Duke had shit to do—so he butted in.

“Okay, fucktards, I’m gonna make this short because I’m tired, and I don’t have time to play games with you little bastards. Which one of you put the lingerie in Rose’s room?”

“Or we could jump straight to the point.” Shep propped himself up against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest.

Duke scanned their faces, looking for signs nervousness. He’d been trained to detect lying.

Pretty Boy ran a hand through his hair, a bored expression on his face. Fetch’s eyes widened in surprise. Dash seemed confused. Then again, it was his normal expression. That boy was dumber than a box of rocks.

But Crash looked queasy.

Duke singled him out. “Tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anythin’.” He held his hands up like he was under arrest.

“I believe you.” Duke removed his gun from the holster, flashing it in front of the prospect.

“Holy shit. Don’t shoot me.” The rest of the prospects had wide eyes, looking like they were about to piss themselves.   

Except for Pretty Boy—who yawned.

“Talk!” Duke shouted.

Crash spoke up, “I didn’t let anyone in, but I saw Lisa go in the room earlier yesterday.”

Now it was Duke’s turn to be confused.  “And who the fuck is Lisa?”

Pretty Boy snickered. “Lisa is the hellion you were fucking. Jesus. You didn’t know her name? Way to keep it classy.”

Shep placed a hand against his mouth and coughed, but Duke bet it was to smother a laugh. Dickhead.

So, Lisa was her name. He knew it began with an ‘L.'

Duke scowled. “Watch your fucking attitude, kid.”

He didn’t quite catch Pretty Boy’s mumbled reply, but he doubted it was respectful. Fortunately for the prospect, he had bigger problems to deal with at the moment.

He glanced at Crash. “What did she do?”

“She keyed in the room, and she had a bag with her, but I didn’t think anythin’ of it. I figured she’d brought groceries over or somethin’.”

“Yeah, she didn’t fuckin’ bring bread and milk.” He sighed, feeling a big headache comin’ on. “All of you can fuck off, we’re done.” He tucked his gun back into the holster.

They shuffled out the door, leaving him alone with Shep.

“This is a big fuckin’ problem,” Duke said. 

Club loyalty meant everything, and one of their own had violated it. All of the Horsemen, from brothers to old ladies to prospects –and yes, even the hellions–were trustworthy, or supposed to be, anyway. In their world, allegiance to the club meant the difference between life and death.

“You ain’t said shit. We have to take this to the president.” Shep ran a hand down his face.

“Can’t we send her away? Tell the prospects to keep their fuckin’ mouths shut about it?”

“Naw, man. Kent was in bed with the Raptors, might still be. Captain has to decide what to do with her, and he needs to know the extent of the damage. For all we know, she could have been feeding him intel about the club. Ain’t no way around it—she could have exposed us to the Raptors.”

“You’re right, but it’s gonna be harsh, brother.” Yeah, the bitch had betrayed them, but it didn’t mean Duke relished the world of hurt about to land on Chesty… Lisa. 

If anything, he wanted to forget about her and move on, but he couldn’t say she hadn’t brought this on herself. She knew the rules and violated them. Hopefully, she hadn’t been spying for Kent. If she hadn’t been, Captain would run her ass out of town. But if she had betrayed them to the Raptors? Well, then, she’d be leaving town real permanent-like.

What a fucking mess.

“Yeah, I know, but I’ll take care of it. I’ll have Fetch round her up, and I’ll bring her over to Captain’s place, man. Here’s to hoping she didn’t dig herself in too deep. But there’s another problem we gotta deal with.”

“Dammit, Shep. I can’t take anymore today. What?”

“To explain this situation, I’ll have to let the club know about Kent and the video—as well as the trainin’ you’ve been doin’ with your girl. Ain’t gonna be pretty.”

Duke figured as much. “Rose is out there with Daisy right now. I’m sure she’s fillin’ her in.”

“Oh, really?”

Duke groaned.

“Happy trails, my brother.” Shepherd clapped him on his back. “If I were you, I’d get myself a bulletproof vest.”

“I’ll be lucky if she tries to shoot me. Knowin’ Daisy, she’ll cut my balls off.”

Shep chuckled.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoyin’ yourself.”

“I’m about to break into song any minute. It’s called the I Told You So chorus. You could have avoided this here situation if you told her weeks ago, like I said.”

“Fuck you.”

“You keep offerin’, and I keep denyin’ you. No means no, brother.”  Shep strutted out of the meeting room.

What. An. Asshole.

***

Meanwhile, Rose had confessed most of the situation to her older sister, and Daisy was having a bit of a meltdown.

Eddie had retreated to the store room, but knowing Eddie, she had her head pressed up against the door, listening in.

“I’m gonna find this bastard, and we’ll make him pay for what he did to you.”

“Daze, you can’t.”

Her sister’s eyebrows raised. “Of course, I can. Marine, remember? I’m highly trained in kicking ass and believe me, this bastard deserves one.”

“Yeah, tell me somethin’ I don’t know.” She nodded to her sister’s abdomen. “You’re also a pregnant lady.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m helpless.”

“You can’t go on a vengeance mission right now. He’s insane, Daze— nuttier than a box of Cracker Jacks. He tried to kidnap you last time. What about your baby?”

Rose was worried. What if something happened to her niece? Not to mention Daisy. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

After several tense minutes stretched between them, Daisy pressed both hands against her abdomen.

“I see your point.”

“Okay, then. That’s settled.”

“What about the club? Maybe they can sort this out? The Horsemen specialize in vigilante justice.”

“Duke is taking care of it.”

“Duke, huh?” Daisy frowned.

Oh, great. Another argument.

“Why don’t you like him?”

“There’s something off about Duke.” She lowered her voice. “Trust me on this one, he’s bad news. Why don’t we bring this to the rest of the guys?”

“Because Duke’s got it under control.”

“Why would he help you anyway? From what the brothers say, he keeps to himself, doesn’t get involved.”

“Because Rose and I are together. What affects her, affects me.”

They whirled to see Duke walking toward them with a grim expression.

Daisy exploded. “Together in what way?”

Rose buried her head in her hands. She’d been trying to work up to that part, and he’d blurted it out without any diplomacy.

Duke cocked a brow. “How do you think?”

Daisy’s eyes were wide and disbelieving. “You mean, you two are…?”

“Yes, but what’s goin’ on between your sister and me is our business. Not yours.”

Daisy’s mouth fell open. “Not my business?”

She got to her feet, marched over to Duke, and poked him in the chest. “Everything about her is my business. I’m the closest thing she has to a mother. Remember that talk we had about what would happen if you tried something with her?”

“Daisy, take it down a notch. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Fine.” Daisy fixed Duke with a look. “What are your intentions?”

“Oh, God. What is this? The fifties?” Rose was mortified.

“Like I said—ain’t your business.” From his weary expression, his patience seemed to be stretched thin.

“Elaborate.” Daisy placed her hands on her hips.

Duke glanced at Rose, and Rose could see an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“I like your sister.” Duke said the words to Rose.

“Yeah? Me too. That’s why I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

Again, Duke focused on Rose, as though Daisy wasn’t in the room at all. “Good, me either. I got no plans to hurt her. I care about her, for her, but this is between the two of us.”

“Fine. I get it. You two have some sort of strange bond or something.”

“Enough, Daze,” Rose said, stepping between them. “Duke is right. This isn’t your concern.”

“But—”

“I mean it. I’m a grown up, and I make my own decisions.”

Daisy sighed, giving in. Thank God. “For the record? I don’t like it.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion.” Rose grinned.

“Hurt her and I’ll shoot you. Not between the eyes either—somewhere lower and a hell of a lot more painful.” Daisy’s grin was unholy.

“Daisy…”

“I only wanted to warn him.”

Duke gave a curt nod. “You’re crystal clear.”

Daisy pulled her into a big hug and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry for being so crazy, but I want you to be safe and happy. Sometimes I get carried away.”

Rose knew all of Daisy’s insanity came from love. Her sister didn’t have to explain.

As she left with Duke, Rose contemplated what would make her feel safe and lead to happiness.

***

“I’ve decided something,” Rose announced.

“That your sister’s a nut?  Because I figured it out like ten minutes ago,” Duke joked.

It wasn’t every day his manhood got threatened. He’d taken the pickup instead of the bike this morning, so they were seated side by side. It was drizzling, and while he hated being in a cage, he loathed getting wet even more.

“No.” She didn’t sound amused by his quip.

“What then?” He slanted a look in her direction, wondering what the hell was going on. They were halfway to his house, and she’d been silent the whole time.

Duke had a bad feeling he’d fucked up. When Daisy asked him what his intentions were, he should have ’fessed up, told Rose he had feelings for her. Instead, he’d choked, mumbled some lukewarm bullshit about liking her.

Duke more than liked her. Although he had nothing to compare it to, Duke thought he might love her.

And he had no fucking clue how to say it.

“I’m sick of waiting for Kent to find me. I want to go after him instead.”

Shit.

He’d been expecting a relationship talk, but if she wanted to discuss battle strategy, he’d much rather do that. Personally, Duke thought it sounded like a damn good plan, but he’d never been one for the sitting duck routine. Still, he wanted to know how she’d arrived at this particular conclusion.

“Why the change of heart?”

“I’m sick of being Goldilocks. That’s what the guard called me last night.” She pulled a lock of hair around to examine it, her lip curling. “And I’m tired of waiting for Kent to try to kidnap me. I’m going to go after him for a change.”

“Why don’t you let me handle Kent?” He’d love nothing more than to put a bullet between the bastard’s eyes, right after he cut his balls off, of course.

“Because this isn’t your fight—Kent isn’t after you. You aren’t the one he’s stalking.  I want to end this.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I get it. I really do, but if you kill him, it will change you. Trust me, I know.”

“How do you know?”

Well, fuck. He’d never been one for true confessions, but this might be a story she needed to hear.

“I just do.” Duke needed the right time to tell her. “You won’t be the same afterward.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the same girl I was before Rock found me.”

“I know, but there’s traumatized, and then there’s bloodthirsty. Look, when we get back to my place, we’ll talk.”

“Fine.”

She was quiet for a few more minutes.

“I also want to cut and dye my hair black. Can we stop at a store to get some shears and some color?”

Damn. She was full of surprises. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’m going to take care of it today.” There was no room for argument in her tone. “With or without you, but it’d be a hell of a lot easier if you helped.”

Duke knew she meant more than the makeover. He turned right and headed for the store.

“Whatever you say, Firecracker.” 

***

Once they got back to his house, she sat on a kitchen chair he’d lugged into the bathroom. He’d also given her one of his ratty old shirts to wear.

“Are you sure about this, Firecracker?” he asked again. She had beautiful hair. Such a shame to cut it, but it belonged to her—if she wanted hard edges, he’d happily oblige her.

She met his eyes in the mirror and nodded. “Positive. Goldilocks is gone. I’m not going to act like her anymore, and I don’t want to look like her.”

He flashed a smile. “You sure you want me to do it? Maybe your sister or Eddie could help…?”

“You’re my mentor, right?”

Duke hesitated, ready to tell her he wanted to be a lot more than her mentor or friend—but now wasn’t that time.

“Yes, I am.”

Fuck. I’m a chicken shit.

“Then you should be the one to do it. You helped me make this change.”

His heart twisted. He’d wanted to help her see the light again, not pull her into his darkness.

“Okay, then, but we’re gonna have a talk later.”

“Fine, but you won’t change my mind.”

“We’ll see. This is a bit like the military, when they give you your first buzz cut.”

Not all that long ago, he’d gone to the barber for his first crew cut. Rose’s hair felt so fine in his hands—baby soft, and golden. And yet that didn’t describe Rose, not anymore.

He could hardly believe this was the same girl he’d pulled from the cage. Hell, she’d held her own against the guard and even walked away with his weapon. If Rose was determined to go on a vengeance path, Kent had better watch his ass.

Knowing he had one last-ditch effort to save her from the blackness within herself, he gathered his thoughts.

Duke had to get personal with her, share the inner part of himself, the boy who’d lost his innocence and so much more the night he became a teenager. She was worth the pain it’d put him through to bring it all out into the open.

He seized the shears and cut large chunks of hair away. Duke watched the mirror as the new Rose began to appear. She was harder now like she’d been honed by razor blades—sharpened into something lethal.

Duke had a sinking feeling in his gut—this last ditch attempt was doomed to failure.

***

Some women might feel sad, seeing their long hair fall around their shoulders and settle onto the floor at their feet.

Rose wasn’t one of them.

She literally and figuratively felt lighter. Freer. Duke hacked at her hair without much finesse, but she didn’t give a damn. Rose wanted a change, not perfection.

After a few minutes, he’d more or less created a chin-length bob. She’d have to see a professional to get it evened out, but Rose had other plans tonight.

After he was done, she mixed the dye she’d bought at the store and painted her hair. The shade was called Espresso, and she loved the richness of it, watched with pleasure as it stained the blond a deep, dark color.

Later, Rose slicked the hair back against her scalp and stared at her own reflection with a gleam in her dark eyes. The woman staring back at her from the mirror was more than a match for Kent. She didn’t want to defend herself, not anymore.

Rose wanted retribution.

All of this made sense in a sick sort of symbolic way. Kent had forged the black pit inside her, and it was time to let it out, set it free.

Oh, yes, there would be blood. And screaming.

Goldilocks was gone.

Chapter Eighteen

After she washed the remains of the dye out of her hair and got a quick shower, she joined Duke in The Vault. They sat on the couch together in front of the fire, and Duke poured them scotch and sodas, which she sipped.

Hard liquor had never been her thing. It burned when it went down, leaving fire in its wake. She wet her lips with it then placed it on the hearth.

Pensively, he pulled a cigar from the breast pocket of his cut, sliced the end off, and lit it. It was a ritual of sorts—she’d seen him do it several times. After he took a few puffs, he finally spoke.

“I’ve never told anyone this story before, but you need to hear it.”

“This is about your stepfather?”

Duke blew out a long stream of smoke, staring sightlessly into the fire.

“Yeah. But you have enough horror rolling around in your head already. Can you stand a bit more?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. He was throwing her a lot of trust. Duke barely let people in his life, and now he was giving her an all-access pass to his trauma. That was a big deal.

“I can handle it.”

“Come here.” He patted his leg, and Rose scooted over. She placed her head on his lap. It’d be easier for him to talk about this if she wasn’t watching him.

Duke stroked her hair. “My mom, Peggy, worked as a waitress in this greasy spoon near an oil field. We were poor as hell, and my dad was never in the picture, so it was only the two of us. Mom scraped by working at the diner, and we lived above her boss’s garage in a room she rented.”

They’d had similar childhoods. Her mother had only been able to afford dingy apartments in bad areas—and they were always evicted after a few months.

He continued speaking, without inflection, merely relating the facts.

“Justin, my stepfather, used to come in every day after work. His daddy owned the field and a half-dozen more all over western Texas. Justin used to order food after work and chat her up. Mom said he was real easy on the eyes, and she fell for him.”

Rose listened, knowing this story wouldn’t end well.

“This went on for weeks. She loved flirting with him—even put on dollar store perfume for the bastard.” He gulped down some of the scotch. “I always hung out at the diner after school. I’d eat dinner, do my homework, and he took an interest in me. I thought the fucker was nice—a real good man.”

She knew what it was like to be deceived by someone. When Kent had ‘bought her’, she’d been relieved… at first. After being held by the rough, gritty bikers, he seemed safe in his three-piece suit and Italian loafers. Rose had been naïve enough to think he might rescue her.

“They got married a couple months later, and I was happy for her.” Duke paused. “No, more than that—I was comforted. My mom needed someone, and he appeared to be a good guy. You know, he even talked about adoptin’ me, but he wanted me for different reasons.”

She listened, stroking his thigh as he talked. She could feel the tension in his body even though he kept his voice low and even.

“I was startin’ to go through puberty, my voice crackin’, hair growing in strange places. I was a nerdy, scrawny twelve-year-old. Maybe a buck and some change which is how dickhead likes them.”

She closed her eyes, waiting for it.

“Justin was wealthy, not rich. He had a mansion, with servants and tennis courts. They even went to Europe for their honeymoon.” He laughed without humor. “I don’t think I’d ever seen her so happy. She was in love with him, but it didn’t last long. She got sick.”

“And he took advantage of the situation?”

“Yeah. We went to the hospital every day to see her after I got done at school. Then we’d eat dinner in town, usually a fancy ass place. I didn’t know it then, but he was fuckin’ dating me. Makin’ plans. He worked on adopting me too. He got my mother to sign off on it and hired a detective to track down my father, got him to sign the papers too. The adoption went through real easy.”

God. His molester had adopted him as well. Rose couldn’t even imagine. Justin had all of the power of a parent over Duke.

“At first, I loved the guy, trusted him. We went to movies together, to ball games, and he even helped out at my school.”

Rose shook her head.

“Justin groomed me—I learned the term later on. Pedophiles or hepaphiles spend time with a kid to gain their trust and love. Makes it easier to control them.”

“What’s a hepaphile?” She’d never heard the term.

“Pervs who fuck teenagers.”

Duke must’ve loved his stepfather at first. She could hear it in his voice, and it made her heart hurt. He’d been a teenage boy who grew up without a father figure. No wonder he’d relished the chance to spend time with a man. And it only made Justin’s betrayal even worse. No wonder Duke had grown cold and distant.

Kent’s violation had been horrific, but she’d never loved him. He’d never been anything other than her rapist and abuser.

Duke spoke slowly, as though the words were dragged out him. “Sometimes we’d watch porn videos at night. Justin said I was becoming a man, that I was old enough to see it.”

She gripped his leg.

“Until one night, after we’d watched some dirty movies, he came to my room.”

Her stomach turned.

“He was drunker than a skunk. He’d been into the bourbon downstairs, and Justin crawled on top of me while I was sleepin’. The bastard tried to kiss me, and I had no idea what the fuck was going on. I was a virgin—I’d never even held a girl’s hand. And this bastard was grabbin’ my dick, trying to sex me up.”

She scrunched her eyes shut. Rose knew that feeling—someone bigger and stronger pinning you down and pawing at your body.

“I screamed my head off, and he slapped me, pressed his hand over my mouth and told me if I woke one of the servants, I’d be sorry. He weighed about two hundred pounds or so, twice my size at that age. I didn’t stand a chance. Justin tossed me over on my stomach, used his belt to lash my wrists to the bed, and fucked my ass until I bled.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. 

“The next night, he came to my room, and I threatened him. I said if he touched me again, I’d tell my mother and the police. Justin taught me a lesson—he had a thing for pain, it got him hard.” Duke sucked in a breath. “That night, he shoved my underwear in my mouth, duct-taped me to the bed, and whipped me bloody. Then he fucked me and the bastard didn’t even use any lube.”

Rose swiped at the tears with the back of her hand.

Duke took a slow sip of his scotch.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Afterward, he said no one would ever believe a punk like me, a poor kid from a broken home. He told me I was ungrateful, and he’d been nothin’ but nice to me, and I should try to please him. Justin guilt tripped me, and his threats worked. If I told her, he’d divorce my mom, and we’d end up on the street. She’d die without medical care.”

“He blackmailed you.”

“Yeah and he had perfect leverage. So I shut my mouth and took it… for nearly four years.”

Her weeks in captivity had been horrific, but Duke had lived in his hell for years. No wonder he’d come out the other side of his ordeal harder and colder.

“It was a routine. He’d come upstairs late at night after everyone had gone to bed and fuck me. I had nowhere to go, and I was too damn afraid and ashamed to tell anyone my stepfather was molesting me. So I took it—buried it down deep and tried not to think about it. Instead, I studied my ass off. I took honors classes, did extra credit, and joined every club that would have me, especially if they had after school meetings.”

She stared at the dancing flames, imagining Duke as a child with no power. 

“It stopped around the time I turned seventeen, right after my mom died. I grew six inches in one summer, and I didn’t look or feel like his fucking boy-toy anymore. When he came to my room one night, I got up the courage to punch him in the gut. Then I wailed on him. My mom was dead, and he didn’t have a hold on me anymore. I gave him two black eyes, broken ribs, and he’s lucky I didn’t cut his fucking balls off.”

“Did he fight back?”

“Oh, he beat the shit out of me too, but I gave as good as I got. After that, I put a fucking lock on my door, and he left me the hell alone.”

“Duke, d-did you kill him?” She rolled over to see his face.

His smile was black as sin. “You bet your sweet ass I did.”

“Tell me.” She moved to a seated position beside him on the couch. “I need to know.” She chewed on her lower lip, waiting to hear the story.

“Why? So you can fantasize about offing Kent? It changes you, Rose.”

“I’m already a different person.”

“Yeah, you’ve been beaten down. You’ve been hurt, but you aren’t a murderer.”

“And you are?”

“I am. I was taught by the government how to be a sniper, and I was damn good at my job. Hell, maybe I enjoyed it a little too much.”

“You’re trying to scare me, so I step off this path.”

“Fuck. Yes, I am, Rose. It won’t lead anywhere you want to go.” He drained the rest of his drink.

“How did you kill him?” It was like she was obsessed—she needed to know.

“I shot him in the back of the head.”

Rose imagined shooting Kent—watching him pitch forward in an explosion of brains and blood.

“When?”

He searched her face, and from his expression, it was clear he didn’t like what he saw.

“During med school. By then, I had enough knowledge of the human body to make it quick and clinical.”

“Why did you wait so long? I don’t understand. You were close to becoming a doctor. Why did you risk it all?”

“Why didn’t I let it go? The way you have?”

“Point taken.”

“I was a hypocrite. I knew what my stepfather was, but I didn’t report him to the police. I was humiliated I’d let it go on so long. So I took his money and used it to pay for school, even though it ate at me. I told myself I deserved it for all he put me through. But I was taking hush money from him. I couldn’t do it anymore when I found out Justin was grooming another kid.”

“Oh, God.”

“The maid’s son. He was twelve years old, just like I’d been when he got the hots for me. I’d stopped by the house to drop off my tuition bill. Justin was supposed to be at work, but instead, I found him in the pool with the kid. They were laughing, floating together on the inner tubes, and he had a look on his face—that hungry, dirty look.”

Duke shuddered.

“I knew exactly what he was gonna do to the boy. Every motherfuckin’ detail. I could see it all play out in my head.” Then he faced her. “And I knew what I had to do—I made up my mind then and there to kill him.”

“How’d you do it?

“I made it look like a carjackin’ gone wrong. One night, he was getting in his car after work, and I waited in the backseat for him. I told him I knew what he was up to, and no amount of money could make up for what he stole from me and what he wanted to take from the boy.” Duke sighed. “Then I shot him, and no one even questioned it. There’d been a rash of carjackings in town. The police barely investigated—rubber-stamped it, moved on to the next case. And you know what the kicker was?”

“What?”

“Fucker made me his sole heir. Just didn’t have any kids, and his father had already died by that time. I bet he did it so I’d keep my mouth shut and wouldn’t damage the family reputation. And so help me—I can’t bring myself to spend any of it. It sits there in the bank. Everythin’ I’ve earned through legit or not so legit work. I’ll never touch a cent of that motherfucker’s money.”

“Is that why you joined the military? You didn’t have the money for school anymore?”

“No.” Duke stared at the floor, refusing to meet her gaze. “I figured I was better at takin’ lives than saving them.”

“You saved me.” She placed a hand over his.

Duke snorted. “I’ve corrupted you.” He snatched her up and squeezed her tight against his body. “I thought I could protect you—keep you from making my mistakes.”

“The damage was done before you even arrived on the scene.”

After an achingly long moment, Duke released her.

And then the Horsemen’s mask settled on his face, and he appeared unruffled, unaffected once more. She wondered if she’d imagined his outburst.

“You’re gonna kill Kent, aren’t you? You made up your mind? No hesitation.”

“Yes.” Rose had never been more sure of anything.

His shoulders sagged. “Then you aren’t doin’ it alone. I’ll help you, but you gotta dress for the part.”

“Which part?”

“Death.”

***

Twenty minutes later, they prowled around Inferno Firearms.

Rose stood near a gun case, gawking at the weapons. She wanted one so bad she couldn’t stand it. Steele stood on the other side of the counter, watching the two of them with a baffled expression.

“What happened to your hair? Last time I checked, you were a blonde.”

“I felt like a change.”

Steele didn’t press the issue.

Duke had a shopping basket on his arm, tossing in items like he was stocking up for the winter. He’d thrown in some ammo, a flashlight, a Taser, and he wasn’t done yet.

“You gonna buy Daisy Jr. here a gun?” Steele asked.

“Mind your own fuckin’ business.” Duke didn’t bother glancing up.

“A bit grumpier than usual.” For some reason, he seemed determined to poke the bear. “Who pissed in your oatmeal?”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Duke fixed the other man with a cold stare.

“Can I have a gun?” she asked Duke.

“Fuck, no. You don’t need one because you don’t know how to shoot. I’m your gun. Why don’t you pick out somethin’ a little less baggy? You got any clothes in here, Steele?”

“Thought you wanted me to shut up.” Steele crossed his arms over his massively muscled chest.

Duke smirked. “I can help you with that, brother. I’m fixin’ to come over there and shove my fist down your—”

Rose interjected before he finished the thought. “Please show me where the clothes are?” she asked Steele.

With a curt nod, he led her to the back aisle.

They had a small selection of clothing—mostly jeans and western shirts. Rose found a pair of black leather pants, matching cowboy boots, and a black baby doll t-shirt, along with a dark hoodie. The clothing would be a tight fit, and it worked with her badass makeover.

And no, she wasn’t worried about wearing it. She had a job to do, and she’d dress the part.

When he finished shopping, Duke paid for their purchases. Rose went to the bathroom to change into her new duds, and then they hauled everything out to his motorcycle. Duke nodded approvingly when she showed him.

He carefully packed his saddlebags.

“Coyote found out where Kent is?” she asked.

“Yeah, he sent me a text with the location this morning. Coyote pinged the towers, and his location popped up. It’s a lead, at least. There’s no guarantee Kent is there. He could’ve tossed the cell as soon as he heard back from the guard.”

“I know, but we should check it out.”

“I agree.”

Rose could feel the hum of adrenaline running through her body—like a war drum. Her heartbeat picked up, her skin tingled. Soon, she and Kent would have their last confrontation.

It was about damn time.

***

Later that night, Rose followed Duke as they skulked around the edges of Kent’s property. The cell phone had been traced to an old dairy barn three towns over, which had undergone some serious gentrification.

It was currently a rental property for ‘the discerning Texan’, according to the realty website. Kent had cash to burn, and it was out in the boonies, perfect for his disturbing purposes.

They found two cars in the parking lot. Thankfully, no CCTV cameras.

Duke pulled out his phone. “I’ll text the license plate numbers to Coyote. He’ll tell us who these belong to.” He thumbed the text and waited for an answer.

“You ready?”

Rose shrugged. “As I’ll ever be.”

He’d insisted she wear a Kevlar vest, and he had her carry a switchblade and a Taser. Even if she wasn’t emotionally ready, she was physically good to go.

A few minutes later, his phone vibrated.

“One car belongs to his security firm, the other to Kent.” He frowned. “I got a bad feelin’ about this. Yeah, he’s a perv, but he ain’t stupid. Kent should’ve ditched the phone and bugged the fuck out of this place once he found out we were on to him.”

“You think it’s a trap?”

“Hell, yeah. Think about it. You’re deliverin’ yourself to his doorstep—no more stalking required. I bet he didn’t want to risk another kidnapping, especially now that you’re extra wary.”

Well, crap.

That left two options, neither of them appealing—bust into a trap or go home and wait for another attack.

“You’re Mr. Special Forces. What do you think we should do?”

He mulled it over. “This might be my paranoia talking, but the smart thing to do would be to go home and regroup, get ready for his next move.”

Damn. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“But we should still go in—though we need to be even more careful.”

“Why are you going along with this?’

“You want it over with, don’t you?”

“God yes.”

She was sick of waiting, worrying. She couldn’t take one more night of this crap.

“So let’s do this.”

Rose followed him to the back entrance of the house. Duke moved like a shadow, deftly creeping towards the door—despite his large size, he made very little noise.

Rose did her best to mirror his movements, but she was nowhere near as stealthy. They trailed along the rose garden, staying low. The moon was a thin sickle in the sky and didn’t cast much light.

Eventually, they stood on either side of the back door, pressed against the wood.

“Ready?” he mouthed.

She nodded.

Holding up a hand, Duke counted it down –three, two, one. Then he kicked in the door—but it swung open on its own.

“Oh, fuck. That ain’t good.”

He cocked his pistol and entered.

Rose followed, tiptoeing through the kitchen behind him. They got half way across the linoleum floor when the broom closet swung open behind them. Before either of them could make a run for it, the cold steel of a double-barrel shotgun settled between Rose’s shoulder blades.

Chapter Nineteen

“Turn around, real slow.”

Rose winced—she recognized the voice instantly–Lester, Mr. Cheap Suit himself.

Duke tensed beside her, and Rose could almost hear him mentally calculating the risks involved in trying to shoot his way out of this predicament.

“Try anything and I’ll blow a hole right through you.”

Duke turned, still brandishing his gun, and Lester kept his weapon trained on the biker. Rose turned, trying hard to not make any sudden movements that’d get her shot.

“Drop your weapons!”

Instead, Duke cocked his pistol. “How about I paint the wall with you instead?”

Rose gulped. She had a case of the shakes while Duke was unflappable, just another day at the office.

“I’d blow a hole the size of a grapefruit in your gut. You’d be dead too.”

Duke shrugged. “Suits me fine. Long as you won’t be walking out of here.”

With a shit-eating grin, the guard trained his weapon on Rose instead. The muscles in her calves clenched, urging her to run, but she stood rooted to the spot—dealt with her fear.

“Fuck.”

“Drop your weapons, or I’ll shoot her instead.”

“Really? I don’t think your boss would like that idea so much,” Duke said.

“Yeah?  I don’t give a shit. That little bitch was itchin’ to gut me last night. I might get fired, but I don’t care as long as she’s six feet under. Now drop your fuckin’ weapons.”

With a muttered curse, Duke dropped the gun, and she did the same with the knife and Taser. Lester scooped them up and tucked the weapons in his jacket pocket.

Lester looked Duke up and down. “You got anything else?”

“You’re welcome to search me.” Duke raised his hands.

Lester stepped forward but then thought better of it.

“Keep your hands where I can see ’em. No sudden movements.”

“Where’s Kent?” she asked.

“So eager to see him, bitch? Don’t worry, he’s close. I know he wants to get his hands on you real soon.”

Duke muttered a vicious curse.

Rose tamped down on a wave of revulsion.

“No smart-mouthed comment? Not so brave with a gun pointed at you, huh?” He studied her hair more closely. “What the fuck did you do to yourself?”

That spurred her temper, and the sarcasm came tumbling out. “You want to talk beauty tips?” Rose eyed his cheap suit.

Duke snorted.

“You two think this is a joke?” Lester lifted the gun.

“Everything about you is a joke,” Rose retorted. Goldilocks might’ve been afraid, but she wasn’t.

Lester looked daggers at her. 

“How do you like my smart mouth?”

“I’m gonna like stuffing my dick in it again.”

“Touch her and you’re a dead man.” Duke said the words like it was a foregone conclusion.

Rose glanced at the guard. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up and take us to him?”

Duke didn’t say anything, but a grin tugged at his lips. He was proud of her, and it filled her with a rush of warmth.

Lester didn’t acknowledge the comment, but he gestured with the gun. “Move straight ahead, slow and steady, and keep your fucking mouths closed!”

He marched them into the living room where Kent sat on a leather couch with a cup of tea in his hand, as if this was a perfectly normal evening.

Rose and Duke stepped forward until they stood in front of him, hands still in the air. Lester was behind them, shotgun at the ready.

“Hello, my love.” Kent’s eyes slid over every single inch of her—and she felt like showering on the spot. “Oh, Goldilocks,” he said, shaking his head, “we’ll have to take drastic measures to correct that atrocity.”

“My body, my business.”

She forced herself to appear composed, but adrenaline surged through her body—her heart hammered, her breath quickened.

“You’re mistaken—your body belongs to me.” He traced one long finger along the edge of his teacup. “I own it, remember?” Kent stood, set his mug down, and then reached for her.

Duke stepped directly in his path. “Touch her and die, asshole.” The two men stared at one another, toe-to-toe.

Several tense moments passed.

Eventually, Kent shuffled backward—offering a wintry smile to match his frosty eyes. “I can see you brought your biker friend.” He spoke to her as though Duke didn’t exist.

“I ain’t her friend, I’m her lover.”

Kent clenched his teeth but didn’t acknowledge the other man.

“You’ll be punished for your infidelity, but we have more pressing matters at the moment. Namely, your friend’s criminal record. I’m afraid he’s got quite the rap sheet.”

“What about it?” Rose had a bad feeling.

Kent slid his cell phone from the pocket of his trousers. “I’m an officer of the court,” he said, widening his eyes, trying to appear innocent. “This man broke into my home, armed. Who knows what he had planned? Theft? Murder?” he said, rehearsing the way he would tell his story to the cops. Kent dropped the act. “In my professional opinion, with his record, this doesn’t look good.”

What a bastard.

“Unless you decide not to file charges?” Rose could see where with this was headed.

“Well, aren’t you the smart one?”

“You can’t press charges if you’re dead,” Duke said softly.

Finally, Kent acknowledged Duke. “Brave talk, but I’m not the one with a shotgun pointed at my back.”

“Go ahead, call the cops. I’ll tell them what you did to me—all of it.” No, this couldn’t go down this way.

Kent laughed. “And did you report this alleged crime to the police before tonight?”

She swallowed. “No.”

“Did you have a rape kit done?”

Her mouth was dry. “No.”

“It’s my word against yours then, and I have evidence both of you broke into my home tonight, dressed in fatigues, with weapons, no less.”

“What do you want?” Even though Rose asked the question, she already knew the answer.

His voice became silky. “I want you to come with me, and we’ll go far, far away from this place. In return, your convicted felon friend can walk away. What do you think?”

She shivered. God, why couldn’t he let it go?

“I think you can fuck off. There’s no way Rose is making the deal.” Duke stepped forward.

Kent got in her space, shoulders back, chest out. “Oh, I think she will. Rose can be very reasonable, especially when she knows she’s been beaten.”

“Yeah, but I doubt you’ll be seein’ the sunrise.”  Duke scanned the room. Rose knew he was trying to figure a way out of this. “Dead men don’t make deals.” 

“And I think you’re forgetting something. Texas has a three strikes law, and this would be your third strike. The statute was created to punish prior and persistent offenders like you. That means twenty-five to life if you’re convicted, and you were caught red-handed—even a law student could get a guilty verdict in this case.”

Life in prison? She couldn’t let Duke go to back to jail.

He’d protected her, trained her, and taken care of her. He’d helped her to piece herself back together again—made her whole once more. She wouldn’t let him pay the price for her failure. They should never have come here tonight—and it was all her fault they were in this predicament. 

“I’ll do it.” Somehow Rose got the words out.

“The hell you will. We’ll find another way.” Duke shook his head.

“I told you she was reasonable.”

“No, I can’t let this happen. I won’t.”

“I don’t see any other way around it.” She couldn’t even look at Duke.

“Yeah? Well, I do.” Duke rushed Kent.

The guard fired off a shot, hitting Duke square in the ass.  With an agonized grunt, Duke fell to the ground, blood gushing from the wound. It stained the back of his pants.

“Duke, no!”

Rose fell to her knees, pulled off her hoodie, and pressed the fabric against the wound. There was so much blood it soaked right through the cotton.

It didn’t even deter Duke. “Touch her and I’ll kill you.”

Kent sighed as though bored. “Can you take care of this?” Kent gestured to the guard. “I have a dinner to make.”

Lester shot forward, leaning over Duke, but the biker hastily dragged a knife from his pocket and sliced the back of the guard’s leg.

He howled in pain as blood soaked the bottom of his pant leg.

“I opened your anterior tibial artery,” Duke said with a feral smile. “You’ll bleed out before you reach the hospital.”

Lester smashed the butt of his shotgun into the back of Duke’s head, knocking him out. Then the guard collapsed to the hardwood floor.

“Boss, I need an ambulance, I’m hurt bad.”

Rose focused on Duke. She clutched at his shoulders. “Duke! Wake up!” She pressed her fingertips to his wrist and detected a pulse. Rose sagged in relief—he was unconscious, not dead.

“I’m sorry, but an injury like yours would be reported to the police,” Kent said to Lester. He slid a hand in the guard’s pocket to retrieve Duke’s gun. Before the man could react, Kent shot him in the head.

Shuddering, Rose wrapped herself protectively around Duke, afraid the lawyer would finish him off.

Kent clucked his tongue as he tossed the gun on the couch.

“Well, that was unpleasant.” He held out his hand. “Let go of the biker, my dear. He’s no longer your concern.”

She slapped his hand away.

“Duke? Duke? Answer me, please.” She cupped his face in her bloodied hands, but he didn’t respond. “Please?”

“Come here.” Kent hauled her to her feet. “Enough of this. You’ve gotten yourself dirty.”

“Get away from me.” She pushed at his chest.

He tried to force the issue, but she fended him off. “Are you trying to make me angry?” He lazily rested a hand on his leather belt, a very thinly veiled threat. “You remember what happens when I get upset.”

She couldn’t care less about his ‘punishments’. Rose needed to know something very important.

“Are you going to shoot Duke?”

“Why would I? He’s my insurance policy. You’ll be a good girl as long as there’s a chance to save him.” 

Kent was absolutely right.

“Let me see to his injuries, then.”

“I’m the only man you need to please.”

She gritted her teeth. “Please?”

He grinned. “Oh, I love it when you beg. And what will you give me if I let you?”

The concept of common human decency was lost on Kent. She did a quick once-over, assessing Duke’s injuries. She needed to staunch the wound, or he would bleed out. Nothing mattered more than Duke’s life.

“Anything you want.”

“I want everything.” He paused to think about it for a moment. “Fair enough. I agree to your proposal.”

Rose released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Kent grabbed the shotgun, knife, and pistol. “I’ll get you some first aid supplies so you can patch up the felon. Then you’ll go upstairs and get yourself cleaned up. We’re going to have a romantic meal.”

Ignoring his crazy talk, Rose reapplied pressure to Duke’s injury, willing the bleeding to slow.

After Kent returned with a first aid kid, he announced, “We’ll be dining in thirty minutes. You won’t like what happens if you keep me waiting.”

She didn’t even bother glancing up at him. After a long moment, he walked into the kitchen, weapons in hand.

Kent didn’t know it yet, but this would be the last meal he ever prepared.

***

Thirty minutes later, Rose walked into the dining room.

In his madness, Kent thought they were having a date night. He’d laid out only the finest—his prized vintage china along with pearl-handled cutlery, and he’d lit the candles in his crystal candelabra. Rose knew he considered her another object or possession in his collection of valuable things—like that godawful Odalisque painting or one of his first-edition books. 

Kent rimmed his lips with his tongue—a move like that used to fill her with fear. The only thing she dreaded now was losing Duke.

From the doorway, she could see into the living room. Kent had draped a sheet over the guard. Duke was propped up on pillows, lying on his stomach where she’d left him. Still out cold. She’d treated his injuries as best she could. After she stemmed the bleeding, she covered the wound with gauze and taped it up, but the pellets from the shotgun shell needed to be dug out of his backside. Luckily, Lester hadn’t nicked any arteries or veins, and the blood had slowed to a trickle. 

Duke didn’t have much time now. “He needs a doctor.”

“Now, now, let’s not talk about such ugliness. I’ve made a wonderful dinner. I wanted to welcome you home in style.” He placed a piece of salmon on a plate for her, along with a couple spoonfuls of rice pilaf. He tried to hand it to her, but she refused to take it.

“I’m not hungry. What about Duke?”

Kent sighed. “We’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning. If your biker friend is lucky enough to live through the night, you can text one of his club members to get him. Sound fair?”

“No, he needs help now.”

His eyes turned cold. “I could put a bullet in his head if you keep pestering me.” He sank into a chair and tossed her plate down on the table.

She’d had enough—it was time to end this. 

Rose had been contemplating this moment for months now, fantasizing about it. She noticed a silver serving knife next to a platter, and her fingers itched to grab it. Like everything Kent owned, it was mostly decorative, but the tip was sharp, and she could jam it somewhere vulnerable. Rose had to choose the right place—maybe in his carotid artery. Duke had once told her a person would bleed out in minutes from that kind of injury. 

She met Kent’s gaze. “I want you to remember something. I tried to let this go, but you wouldn’t give up. You brought this on yourself.”

His smile was pure insanity. “I love you. I couldn’t give up on you, on us.”

Rose straddled his lap, and his erection pressed against her ass. Rose wanted him aroused, distracted.

“You think this sick, and perverted thing is love?”

He searched her face. “You love me, but you can’t admit it.”

Rose seized the back of his hair, gripping it tight. She wanted to rip it out from the roots.

“You have a fixation, but it isn’t love.”

“Stop lying.”

She yanked his hair harder.

“See, you like it rough, even though you pretended to cry afterward. Is that how the biker screwed you, Goldilocks?” Kent wrapped his fingers around her wrists, keeping her from tearing his hair out by the roots.

“Never call me that again.”

“You protested at first, but you came for me again and again. You wanted it. Wanted me. Stop denying it.” He pushed on her forearms, thrusting her backward, wrenching her fingers from his hair. She noted with satisfaction she’d pulled out quite a few strands. Rose wished she could rip it all out.

She was still on his lap, and she got in his face. “You raped me.” It felt good to look him in the eye and accuse him—to put the blame where it belonged.

Kent flinched.

“I used to plead with you to stop. You drugged me, chained me up, caged me, and beat me to make me submit.” She sneered. “What does that tell you?”

“You’re mine.”

“You don’t own me. You never did, despite that slave contract you forced me to sign.”

His patrician features tightened, frigid eyes blazing with a cold fire.

“You love the big, dumb biker? Is that it?”

A smile spread across her face.

“Yeah, I’m in love with him, but I’ve been too afraid to tell him.”

Nothing like confronting death at the hands of a madman to bring things into focus. Kent had become an obstacle, the one thing standing between her and the man she loved.

Kent slapped her, and her lip split against her teeth. She swiped at her mouth, and her fingers came away bloody, but she didn’t flinch or cower. She let it fuel her rage—just like Duke had taught her.

Rose stood and put a couple feet between them. Room to move.

“It’s time.” Rose grasped the knife.

“You’re going to slice me open, eh? You used to be so unsure of yourself. Eyes downcast, cowering, always submitting to my every whim.”

“Not anymore.”

Kent got up and approached her but kept his movements slow, his hands raised.

“You’re so much like your sister. I get to break you all over again.” He lunged, tossing her on the table, sending plates and food splattering to the floor. “It’ll take weeks. I’ll have to cage you again, wear you down.” His cock pressed against her leg, thick and eager.

She wanted to cut if off.

Rose planted a foot in his chest and thrust him backward, then slid off the table.

“Come here, Goldilocks.” He crooked a finger.

She tossed her dark hair back. “She’s gone. You killed that girl.” She meant it. She’d been slowly patching herself back together, but she wouldn’t be the same person.  And now she was made of stronger stuff.

“Don’t be melodramatic. I’ll find Goldilocks again—I’ll dye your hair and make you my good little girl once more.”

She reared back. “I’d rather die. Actually, I’d rather you do the dying.”

Kent sprang on her, and they crashed to the floor. Rose landed on her back, and Kent straddled her, placing his hands around her throat. The knife had been knocked out of her hand and lay about a foot away. She tried to grasp the handle, but it lay just out of her reach.

Kent squeezed her throat. “Are you going to behave?”

“Yes,” she croaked, desperate for breath.

Kent relaxed his hold, and she sucked in air. Then he fit his mouth to hers, ran his tongue over the seam of her closed lips—tasting her blood.

She refused to open for him. Rose wouldn’t give him entrance to her body.

Not again. Never again.

“Kiss me. Tell me how sorry you are for upsetting me, for letting another man touch what belongs to me.”

“I’m sorry.” Rose edged further to her left.

He closed his eyes, savoring his victory. “Such a good girl.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner, you bastard!”

Rose seized the knife and plunged the sharp tip deep into his neck—warm, dense blood came spurting out, covering them both.

Kent bellowed in pain like an injured animal, and she scrambled out from beneath him. He rolled onto his back and clutched his throat, trying to staunch the bleeding, but it was impossible.

With every heartbeat, more blood surged from the wound.

“I love you, Goldilocks.” Blood spurted from his mouth.

“Didn’t anyone tell you? Love hurts, sweetheart.”

Rose stood over him and watched him bleed out. Until he laid there at her feet—lifeless.

Blood dripped from her clothes, her hands. She’d expected to be upset, anxious, but she wasn’t.

No, Rose felt good. Strong. Sort of a high, really. That should probably concern her, but it didn’t. Rose was finally free.

Kent would never get his hands on her again.

“Firecracker?” Duke called from the other room.

He was awake! She ran to him and hit her knees.

Duke still slumped over the pillows. With a groan, he touched the back of his head.

“Fuck that hurts.”

“What do you remember?” Rose worried he might have a concussion in addition to his gunshot wound.

“Gettin’ shot in the ass and then not a damn thing. What’d I miss? And where the fuck is Kent?” Then he took a good look at her bloodied clothing. “He’s dead.”

“Yes.”

“You killed him.”

“I did.”

“How do you feel?”

“I feel pretty damn good.”

His smile held a touch of sadness. “I thought so.”

Their gazes locked and his eyes were somber.

Duke cleared his throat and gestured to the sheet draped over Lester.

“Did Kent kill the guard?”

“Yeah.”

He lurched to his feet. “Shit. I wanted to shoot the bastard.” Duke groaned as he clutched his hip. “Shot in the motherfucking ass—I’ll never live this down.” He explored the wound with tentative fingers. “Looks like it missed everything important.” He turned to her. “Did you stop the bleeding?”

“Yes.”

“Good job.”

“Thanks.” That was high praise from someone with medical training.

“You gonna be okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine once they dig the bullet fragments out.  My pride’s on the critical list, though.”

She knew this probably wasn’t the right time, but she had to ask. “Duke? Are you disappointed in me?”

“Never. I wanted something better, something easier for you, but that’s not how this played out. You did what had to be done.” A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Now you’re livin’ on the dark side with me.”

“That isn’t so bad, is it?”

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “It has pros and cons like everything else, but I think you might be a natural.” He surveyed the mess in the living room. “We need to clean this up. Fast. What’s first?”

“Wash the blood off so I don’t spread the DNA everywhere.”

“Good call. And then?”

“Get his wallet and phone.”

“Right. We’ll have Coyote use his computer mojo to create a trail down to Mexico for Kent and the guard. So let’s get started.”

After washing up, she patted Kent down to find his cell phone and identification. Eventually, she found them both in his back pocket.

“Our next step is to call Shep,” Duke instructed.

Rose used her cell to dial Shepherd.

He answered immediately. “What’s going on?”

“I took care of a… problem,” she said, unsure how much she should divulge on an open phone line.

There was a pause on the line. “I see. Duke with you?”

“Yeah, he’s injured and needs some medical attention.”

“We got a friendly doc in town. Ain’t as good as Duke, but he can do the job. You need help spring-cleanin’ this problem away?”

“God, yes.”

“We’ll take care of it. I’ll be sendin’ over a crew. What’s the address?”

“Coyote has it.”

The phone line crackled. “Sit tight. We’ll be there in a few.”

After she hung up with Shep, Duke searched through the cabinets in the kitchen until he found a bottle of tequila, which he drank straight out of the bottle.

After a few minutes, he sighed in relief. “Fuck, I needed that.”

Duke found a bottle of cleanser and paper towels, then wiped down surfaces they might’ve touched while Rose scooped up the food and threw away the broken dishes. They’d take the garbage with them when they left.

“What about the bodies?”

“We got a special spot for those.”

“Let me guess. The location is on a need-to-know basis.”

Duke nodded.

“And all the blood?” she asked.

“I have some hospital-grade cleansers that should do the trick.”

Rose guessed she shouldn’t be surprised the brothers had handled this type of thing before.

They had a body count.

And now, so did she.

***

After they’d cleaned what they could, Duke grabbed Rose’s hand and pulled her onto the veranda behind Kent’s place. It was dark, so no one would see them. Besides, Kent had deliberately chosen a place in the boonies. The nearest neighbor wasn’t for miles.

He had something to ask her, and it wasn’t the sort of thing you did near dead bodies. With the stars shining overhead and the crescent moon above them, the night almost had a romantic vibe.

In a twisted sort of way—which was perfect for them.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Rose had a Zen-like calm going on. In his unit, after they’d taken someone out, some guys threw up, some of them got shit-faced. Others tried to crack jokes and ignore it. Duke tended to be the silent, contemplative type as well.

Biting her lower lip, she considered his question for a minute. “Yeah, I really am. He wouldn’t have let me go. I feel fabulous, considering I just killed someone.”

“Yeah? It won’t last.” He plucked two cigars from the pocket of his cut and clipped them. Pulling out his Zippo, he toasted the ends as she watched.

“You’re gonna let me try one? Thought I wasn’t a smoker?”

He sighed. “I was wrong. You’re a smoker, and you should know that’s fine by me.”

They weren’t just talking about the cigar.

Duke lit it and handed it to her—she took a tentative puff. Evidently, cigars agreed with Rose, because she didn’t cough this time.

He sucked on the end of his as well. “Now that you got your life back and all, any thought as to what you’ll do with it?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I’m normal anymore.”

“Normal is fuckin’ overrated.”

Duke reached into his cut again and pulled out something shiny from another pocket. It was a choker with a porcelain crown pendant, like his tattoo—a gold vein ran through the center of the crown.

“I got somethin’ for you to consider.”

“It’s a kintsugi necklace!”

“Yeah, I got it for you.” He handed it to her. “I didn’t know it at the time, though—bought it a few years ago when I came across it in a shop.”

She ran her fingers over the symbol, his symbol.

“It’s a collar, isn’t it?”

Duke nodded. “My brothers do this thing where their old ladies get a tat with their name on it.  And the women wear their Horsemen pendant, but I don’t like that shit.  I want something unique. I don’t take a damn thing for granted—branding someone for life doesn’t work for me. I prefer you in a collar. It’s something you choose to wear every day.”

While it had kinky significance as a collar, it could also be worn as jewelry without anyone being the wiser.

She looked up at him. “What are you saying, Duke?”

Fuck, this Romeo routine wasn’t him. He had no idea how to ask this question. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is you’re the perfect woman for me.”

Here goes everything.

“You wanna be my old lady?”  

By some miracle, he must’ve gotten it right, because she hurled herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his face.

“Yes. Of course, it’s a yes!”

Holy shit. Thank God, she agreed. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if she’d turned his sorry ass down.

Rose turned around, offering him her neck. “Put the necklace on, please.”

Duke fastened it around her neck. Then she turned to face him.

Fuck, that was hot—his symbol on her.

Duke kissed her hard. He couldn’t wait to get her home—then head down to The Vault and celebrate this news in style. Well, maybe after he got checked out by the doctor and ate a couple of painkillers.

“I’ll help you move your stuff out of Hades and over to our place tomorrow.”

Actually, he’d order the prospects do it on account of his brand new gunshot wound.

“Our place? Look at you, letting a woman into your bed and your home, too. Talk about progress.”

Duke shrugged. “Not really. You moved into my heart a long time ago. That’s some progress for you.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he laughed. “Fuck me. I’m a Hallmark card.”

She laughed, but there were tears in her eyes. “You’re in my heart too.”

“I’d better be. For the record, I’m fallin’ in love with you. Hard. I ain’t ever said that word before to a woman.” Damnation, love was a bitch.

“I’m falling for you too.” 

“Good. To celebrate, we’ll do somethin’ kinky later.”

“Ooh, like what?” Her eyes lit up, glinting in the moonlight.

“Make love.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “Sounds like a terrific plan. New territory for both of us.”

Before he could sprout ovaries, he kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Duke couldn’t remember ever being this happy, this at peace.

“That makes you my submissive, my woman. My old lady.”

“Every Bonnie needs her Clyde.”

“Damn straight.” 

Maybe they would take on some freelance, guns-for-hire type of work. There were a lot of dickheads in the world who could use some vigilante justice. 

Just then, his brothers pulled up. As much fun as this was, they still had a hell of a lot of work to do this evening.

“Come on, Firecracker, let’s finish this, and then we can begin the rest of our lives.” He offered Rose his hand, and they walked inside.

Together.

Thank y’all for readin’!

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Books in the Series

(Ryker & Elizabeth)

(Cowboy & Daisy)

(Duke & Rose) 

(Captain & Eddie)

(Shepherd & Pretty Boy)

(Axel & Charlie)

(Steele & Ashton)

(Voodoo & Lex)

About the Author

Cynthia Rayne is the USA TODAY bestselling author of the Lone Star Mobster Series and the Four Horsemen MC Series. While Cynthia was born and raised a damn Yankee in Ohio, her parents hail from Dixie, and she grew up on homemade buttermilk biscuits and southern wisdom. In her spare time, she enjoys shopping, reading way too many romance novels, and drinking a truly obscene amount of coffee.