Shelter From The Storm (The Bare Bones MC Book 6) Page 9

  She gasped in my mouth. She grabbed a little handful of my hair to pull me away from her. Her eyes were round with surprise, as though no one had ever diddled her button before. But all she said was, “Is your hair really red?”

  I swiped my fingertips across her clit faster, faster. Her eyes slid shut again but I still answered her. I leaned over and spoke against her exposed throat. “Yes. I tried dying it brown at first, but it became a hassle.” I took a big biting suck from her velvety flesh. “Carrying around hair color when you’re on a job isn’t practical.”

  She tried to laugh, but she was too busy concentrating on coming. I could tell by the way her eyeballs moved back and forth under her eyelids, like a person during REM sleep. I swished my fingers like I was tinkling little bells, like a grand pianist building up to a massive, gorgeous crescendo.

  I leaned over her, detached, avidly watching this fascinating buildup. Her chest flushed as a tidal wave of hormones swept over her. Her mouth started making shapes as if she was uttering indistinct curses. Her cunt was so wet I felt juice drip down my fingers.

  I didn’t want to stop to grab the Ben Wa balls from my pocket.

  CHAPTER TEN

  PIPPA

  I felt like Rapunzel finally let out of her boring, poisonous tower.

  I was letting my hair down, I was rolling in the mud with the pigs! It was a gloriously freeing feeling, wrapping my thighs around Fox’s muscular ones, parting my legs, allowing a man to pleasure me for the first time in…well, years. Russ had never bothered making me come. I wasn’t sure he even knew where a clitoris was.

  Fox nailed it right on the head, his slippery fingers playing a smooth glissando against my hypersensitive core. I wasn’t even embarrassed that I was obviously, plainly slippery enough that he didn’t need any lube. And just the idea that he was interested in me enough to make me come, that helped lift me to the heights of delight.

  I’ll be honest—one of the first things I did when arriving in Pure and Easy was find the sex toy store. Orgasms are important to me for mental and physical health. I need to keep those Kegels strong, you know! But just knowing that my thighs were open for this lusty, red-blooded bastard, well, that was enough to send me over the edge.

  Every muscle in my body clenched and a weird, disembodied “Agh!” bounced between the four walls of my living room. Then my brain shut down as wave after wave of delicious rapture flowed over me.

  He didn’t stop. He knew just the right rhythm and pressure to apply to keep me in that blissful plateau. He even growled some sexy encouraging words.

  “That’s it, my girl. Come for me. See what I made you do. Oh God, you’re lovely. You’re like a beautiful flower blossoming. Come. Come. Come. Keep coming.”

  Fox Isherwood held my very well-being in his hand, and then he did something that made me gasp loudly. He inserted something round and cold into my pussy. He shoved them up there with two fingers, still rubbing my clitoris with his thumb. I was so shocked I raised my torso on my elbows. I had to frantically brush a couple of books onto the floor like someone in a nighttime TV drama.

  I rolled my hips around like they were on ball bearings. In a way, they were. I wanted to feel the two balls inside me roll together. I was still coming, Fox tickling my clit with a feathery touch now. “What’s that?”

  He grinned. “Ben Wa balls.”

  I grinned too. “What do they do?”

  “Keep you excited all day.”

  “But there are no nerve endings inside of the vaginal canal.” My practical scientific nature came out, even though I was leaning there with this man’s enormous erection bulging his jeans just inches from my pussy.

  “Try it,” he advised, and stood up straight.

  I grinned crookedly. Orgasmic shocks still shot through my pelvis, but without his fingers to stimulate me, all I could do was clasp and unclasp the balls with my muscles.

  His eyes were riveted to my cunt. “I can see you working them,” he said with wonder, then suddenly dropped to his knees.

  “No! Stop! No! I’m not kidding! No!” I couldn’t fucking take any more!

  Fox was lapping away at my clit like a shepherd slaking his thirst with a giant milk bucket. What was he doing? He knew I was over-sensitive just after an orgasm and—

  “Ah.” He smacked his lips with appreciation, then stood again. His long, fat penis pulsated inside his jeans, and he absentmindedly rubbed his pectoral underneath his loose tank top. Then it was like a bubble popped over his head. He snapped back to reality. “Oh! I knew there was a reason I came here. Everyone is going on this Winnemucca run day after tomorrow. Would you like to ride two up on my Panhead with me? It’s about a twelve hour ride.”

  What the fuck? Was this a date? I knew it was strictly sex between us, but I at least wanted to make sure that he was going to stick around awhile. Not leave me in the lurch, at least as far as sex went.

  I pulled my skirt down and sat primly on the edge of the desk. “Winnemucca? Isn’t that in Nevada?”

  He went to the window again and peeked through the curtains. “Yeah. Have you been to a motorcycle rally before?”

  “Can’t say as I have. Chemists don’t usually participate in wild things like that.”

  Fox looked at me and grinned. “From the sounds of things, you do. Were you with the Coast Guard?”

  “No, I was a contractor on a very long contract. The fucker who screwed me over was a Lieutenant Commander. Do you plan on sticking around Pure and Easy for a while?”

  He nodded. “I get it. You don’t want to ride the pussy pad of some Johnny-come-lately. I’ll be around. I just got a new assignment, so I’ll be here.”

  I nodded. “I have a new idea for a cannabusiness. I didn’t dare run it by my handler, the guy who just left.”

  Fox perked up. “Oh? That was your WITSEC handler?” This seemed to make him extremely happy. “What’s your idea?”

  “A bud and breakfast. There’s an abandoned hotel up Mormon Mountain, you might have seen it when going up to Leaves of Grass. It’s been empty since the ’06 real estate crash. Cannabis friendly lodging is a huge industry now.”

  “Also illegal in the eyes of the feds.”

  “Yeah, but when’s the last time you heard them doing anything about it?”

  “Uh, yesterday? I’m just saying watch what you’re doing, Pippa. I don’t want you jeopardizing your cover here. I’ve got mine. You’ve got yours. We each have a stake in not blowing each other’s cover.”

  “Yeah, but I know nothing about your real story.” I stood, wiggling my hips to rotate the balls inside me. The effect was very mild. More like you just wanted to keep squeezing your Kegels to prevent the balls from rolling out. But I could see where becoming aware of them at all moments would enhance your arousal.

  He pointed at the ground. “This is my real story. I abandoned all that when I left New Mexico. I still wire money to my brother from an offshore account, but I want even him to have plausible deniability, so there’s no way for him to find me. I’m sorry I couldn’t find your sister.”

  “No, I understand. I can’t expect you to go clear around New Mexico to get a message to her. Tobias is on it. He might be able to send a message electronically so no one is in danger.”

  He came closer. “Now, I don’t want you to run off doing anything stupid.”

  I changed the subject. “Oh, that’s Maddie calling me.”

  Fox read a text of his own while I answered my call.

  “Pippa!” Maddie’s voice was full of urgency, and she wasted no time on niceties. “Some guy came into the tux rental store looking for you. Emily thought it was funny, you know? I mean, you barely know anyone in Pure and Easy since running from that horrible ex-husband of yours in San Francisco. She thought maybe he was your ex.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Well, for one thing, he was black. For another, he was as huge as a football player. And his jaw seemed to be falling apart, like Jaws in James Bond.�
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  I knew for certain I knew no one like that, so my first thought went to the Jones cartel. My heart thudded once, twice, then proceeded to rapidly zoom. Was I having a panic attack? “That’s definitely not my ex. Maybe someone he sent.” That fit in with the bullshit story I’d been telling everyone about wanting to start a new life away from an abusive husband. “What did Emily tell him?”

  “Well, she was skeptical, so she said you quit and she didn’t know where you went. Then he fucking went behind the counter and grabbed her by the throat. You know, like he was going to strangle her.”

  “What? Oh God, Maddie, I’m so sorry! It’s obviously some goon my ex-husband Russ sent. Is Emily all right? How’d she get rid of him?” Fox was listening avidly to me now, too. Had his text been about the same thing?

  “She finally screamed that she was going to call the owner of her store, and the guy vanished. She got his license number off his Corvette so Tobias is running it, but we doubt he’ll come up with anything.”

  “Probably stolen plates. Where is Emily now?”

  “We’re at my house. I went down and got her. She’s a nervous wreck as you can imagine.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right over. Poor Emily. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  When I hung up, Fox said, “Let me guess. Some giant African American bruiser went by the tux rental place.”

  I was confused. “How’d you know?”

  “A guy with a terrible dental plan?”

  “Yes, his was riddled with holes.”

  He nodded. “That’s from doing too much—or any, really—Krokodil. It eats away bone and muscle. They call it ‘cannibal heroin.’”

  “But who the fuck is he? He was looking for me.”

  “He’s apparently an independent contractor name of Phil Din.” He gestured with his phone. “I was wondering too because I saw him watching us shoot archery the other day.”

  “Right. Just watching us in the open, completely obvious.”

  “Santiago Slayer knows him. Says he’s a real nasty customer, a vile son of a bitch, not pleasant like we are.”

  “It must be the cartel coming to kill me before I can testify.” My brain felt like a giant eraser had been rubbed on it as I mindlessly walked to my small fridge and grabbed a beer. Going back, I took another one to hand Fox, but he declined. “Do you know the Jones cartel? Ortelio Jones? He’s the head of it. You must have run across them in your hitman business.”

  “I’ve heard of them, yes. Listen, I want you to stay with Maddie and Ford. I’ve got a job to do out near Show Low, so I’ve got to take Wolf with me. But first I’m going to follow you up to Maddie’s. You should be safe while you’re at work since you’ve got a guard on the door at the dispensary, but take no chances. You’re coming to Nevada with me, right?”

  “Oh hell yes, especially now. Fox, if some fellow hitman is coming to get me, I should tell my handler.”

  “No. Don’t, not yet. Let me and Tobias figure out who sent this guy, where he is.”

  I went up to Fox, put my arms around him, and laid my cheek against his chest. I squeezed him, but not too tight. Didn’t want to put the fear of God into him. I had the feeling that I was way more into him than he was into me. It was more than just sex for me, but I knew that was all it could ever be for him.

  “I know you can be cruel,” I whispered, my breath fluttering across his pectoral. “But I trust you to protect me, too.”

  Mechanically he brought his hands up to my shoulders, where they fluttered ineffectually like pieces of Kleenex. Was he actually afraid of me? “I will,” he said, not too convincingly. “I will.”

  Good gracious, Ignatius. I’d gone from a heartless Lieutenant Commander who didn’t love me to a redheaded hitman who didn’t love me. I was a woman who loved too much.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FOX

  “Let me hold the rocket launcher.”

  “No.”

  “At least let me pull the trigger.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, come on!” cried Wolf Glaser. “Why do you get to do all the fun stuff?”

  Because Ruben Ochoa’s bulletproof SUV had not come down his access road yet, I fell for it, and engaged with the former Prospect. Sometimes I can be so stupid, or maybe just bored. “I get to do ‘all the fun stuff’ because it’s my mission. I’m the trained operative. I need to hit the passenger door while they may be going seventy miles an hour. You’re just the guy who works in the Bare Bones parts shed.”

  Wolf had executed his role. He’d waited patiently by Ruben Ochoa’s fortress-like abode for the garage door to open. As expected, Ruben had walked directly from his home into the armored SUV. He was already in the back seat by the time the SUV moved out onto the driveway and a couple goons looked out the windows suspiciously. Wolf radioed me to get ready, got on his scoot, and went off-road behind a few hills to reach my position a half a mile down the road. Now he lay on his stomach next to me. I’d dug a slot in the dirt in which to rest the tube of my grenade launcher. I had the iconic, Russian-built RPG-7 and it fit comfortably on my shoulder. It could take out a tank, so I imagined it would probably incinerate the SUV. No one else took this access road to Ochoa’s mansion, so I just listened for the approaching vehicle.

  “They gave me that job because I used to work at Home Depot. Made sense, don’t you think? It’s an important position, knowing which part to hand out for an operator of a Cat 374D excavator. What’s taking these losers so long? They barbecuing in their garage?”

  I had to chuckle at that. Beaners sure did like to barbecue in their garages, or their front yards for that matter. “Listen. You sure you don’t want to take off? I don’t really need you here.”

  “What, and miss the extremely awesomesauce sight of what is essentially a tank blowing to smithereens before our very eyes?” Wolf lost his grin. He had his brain bucket on in case of falling debris. So did I. It felt like I was in the Army again. “It will, won’t it? Blow to smithereens?”

  “That’s what I’m banking on,” I muttered, attentive to the sound of an engine coming closer. “We’re only sixty yards away.”

  The Ochoas were threatening to destroy our union—either that of The Bare Bones MC or my increasingly tenuous one with the Jones cartel. Taking out their kingpin sent a message that we’d take it to the mats with them if they so desired. I’d just been reading Abe Lincoln’s Cooper Union speech in which he’d solidified his presence as a man to be reckoned with. Ochoas sending spies into the Bare Bones backyard was a blow to their union, a suspicious threat akin to armed robbery, like the South demanding to secede from the North.

  “Oo, they’re coming,” trilled Wolf. I had to hold him down by the shoulder to prevent him from popping his stupid head over the ridgeline. Being spotted wouldn’t be fatal, but it wouldn’t help.

  “Stay put,” I growled. I followed the approach of the vehicle by tracking it with the tube. I estimated the SUV was moving at a steady fifty miles per hour. I tracked, tracked, tracked and squeezed the trigger.

  I felt as well as heard the impact. The ground shook as though we were jumping a moving train. The entire vista on the other side of my little hill was lit up with a few flashes so bright they temporarily blinded me. I couldn’t resist man’s natural urge to witness what destruction he’d wrought, and I shot to my feet.

  All that remained on the road was a mangled chassis. Whoever had been in the vehicle was liquid bone now. The shaped charge had penetrated the side of the SUV and exploded on impact. Twisted pieces of metal and flaming engine parts were dropping with thuds all around us. I got conked in the head with part of a fuel hose, so it was time to make tracks away from the impact site.

  “How fucking awesome is—” Wolf was brained with part of a seat followed by a hunk of bloody flesh slapping upside his lid, so he followed me to our bikes too.

  “That was awesome, Fox.”

  “I’m going to report to Ford at his house. You can do what you like.” I thought, then sai
d, “Thanks for your help.” I wasn’t used to thanking anyone. I always worked alone. But Lytton had stuck me with this guy, so I may as well make the most of him.

  “No problem. I love witnessing explosive carnage like that. See you at Ford’s.”

  We thrashed it off-road for awhile until we could hook up with Obed Road. A bridge there would take us to Joseph City where we could hit Route 40 west again. We’d ride separately on the off-chance someone had already heard and investigated the explosion and had called other operatives along Route 40. But honestly, who would jump to the immediate conclusion the hit was affiliated with The Bare Bones? Wolf wore his cut, but Jones might want to take credit for the hit. Well, Ford and Ortelio Jones could fight it out for the honor. I was pulling double duty today.

  I allowed my mind to wander as we zoomed away from the carnage. I didn’t know if the sicario with the rotten jaw, Phil Din, had been sent to get me or Pippa—or both. Slayer said he was keeping his ear to the ground for chatter, but I didn’t have much faith in that, unless Din was about to Snapchat his favorite gangster hand signals.

  Either way, ol’ Phil had obviously been sent by Jones to check up on me and perhaps make my hit for me if I was falling down on the job. All the giant goon had to do was to see me with Pippa, and he’d instantly know I’d lied to Jones about not having been able to find her. More than likely, though I’d never met the guy before, he’d put two and two together after seeing us at archery together. Yeah, and humping behind the UXO shed.

  I was living on borrowed time. I could bury Pippa, and feel like a shitsack for the rest of my life. But I’d known my time in the business was short. The career span of a sicario was something like two, maybe three years. I’d been doing it for Jones for almost two. I was thirty-fucking five years old. I’d worked for the Taos DA’s office before the fateful misunderstanding that altered the course of my life forever. I could never go back to New Mexico, but how would I elude Ortelio Jones?