Burn: Outlaw Romance (Hotter Than Hell Book 3) (8 page)

“Thanks, Curly, I got this.” Dagger’s voice thrums inside my head. Not in a good way. The ache from a few minutes ago turns to a steady pound.

“Humph,” Curly replies before he walks out. Dagger strolls over and closes the door behind him.

Now we’re alone in the room again and I don’t know where to look. I reach for the cloth to place it in the water. Dagger steps up and wedges one jeans-clad knee between mine. I’m surprised enough to look up. His eyes burn into me. It’s the strangest thing, really. My body is so aware of him. My breasts tingle, my hands sizzle with the need to reach out and touch him.

I don’t know what he reads on my face but his eyes have gone cold again and his voice is even more intimidating. “Put down the cloth.”

I’m no good at following orders, never have been, especially those given by men. I have no idea why the cloth slips from my fingers and lands in the bowl. Dagger leans in and picks it up. His chest is inches from my eyes and his tats fill my vision. The ink appears prison-grade, but the artwork is intricate. A Grim Reaper stands over a crying woman holding a swaddled baby. The design weaves into swirls of flowers with branches that turn to thorns as they flow further out across his chest. It’s devastatingly beautiful in a dark, haunting way.

“While I clean your face, you’ll answer my questions.”

I have my own question and it centers on the tattoo. I shake off the empathy the artwork invokes. The tone of Dagger’s voice helps. Harsh and demanding has never worked in anyone’s favor when dealing with me. Mr. Boss Man is about to find out that pushing my buttons is not going to work. “And if I don’t?” It would have sounded tough if I hadn’t winced when the cloth touched the edge of the cut on my forehead.

The cloth goes still. “You have no idea the fucking trouble you’re in, princess.” He leans in closer so his hot breath hits my cheek. “I don’t think you really want to find out.”

My hands form fists and it takes everything I have not to leap up and deck him. “I’m sure I won’t be the first Latina you’ve killed, nor will I be the last,” I say instead, keeping my voice as steady as possible.

The fingers of his injured wrist grasp my chin and he raises my head higher. “You actually think the worst thing I could do is kill you?”

I glare at him and allow my rage to build. It’s a warm rock inside my chest and it’s growing hotter. “I never thought you’d be into brown skin,” I taunt, his gut-wrenching tattoo completely forgotten.

He laughs. It’s not a happy sound and it sends chills down my spine. “To me and my men,” he puts the emphasis on
men
and his smile disappears, “all pussy is pink where it counts.”

Heat rises in my cheeks. Fucking asshole.

It doesn’t escape me that he’s willing to pass me around his men either. And he’s not finished handing out threats. “Dying is the easy part, it’s what leads up to it that you need to fear.”

Fear is not something I’m accustomed to and I don’t plan to give into it now. Good looks aside, Dagger is just like my father. If I weren’t so dehydrated, I’d spit on him.

He tips my chin up until my neck is all the way back, placing my head at an uncomfortable angle. My hands go to his. They’re like iron. “First question: Was Fox your father?”

I was groggy, but I clearly heard Lorene, who they call Red, spill the beans. This small detail is of no consequence. How much do I want to share before they kill me? Dagger eases his grip and I tell him the truth. “Frank Tison, who you call Fox,
was
my father.” It’s actually nice to emphasize the past tense even though I didn’t cause his demise.

“How old are you?”

I have no idea why he cares. “Twenty-six.”

“I figured younger.”

Most people do.

He goes back to cleaning my face. The water feels good in the hot room. I wiggle a bit because his knee is pressed between my thighs intimately. Too intimately for my tastes.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He doesn’t let me answer. “Who knows you’re here?”

Do I want them thinking they’re fucked if they kill me? I think so. No good reason for me to answer this question. I remain quiet and Dagger continues cleaning my face. When he’s finished, he opens the first aid kit and pulls out a butterfly bandage and some ointment. He’s being deceptively quiet and it worries me more than if he threatened me again. He’s methodical in his doctoring skills, I’ll give him that. When finished, he rests everything on the cot and calmly buttons my shirt, which I had forgotten about. His fingers skim across my hot skin and I inhale sharply. This doesn’t go unnoticed. He looks at me with a calculated stare. I break eye contact and glance over his shoulder at the closed door.

He finally steps back, removing the pressure from between my legs. I immediately want it back. My pussy throbs to the same beat as my aching head. God, what I would give to hump his leg right now. This man has me caught somewhere between anger and lust. I have a healthy sex drive, always have. I’m usually discerning, though. Skinhead assholes have never been on my radar. Just the opposite. Yesterday the last person on earth I would want to fuck is the man before me.

He’s watching me closely. “You sure you don’t want to answer the question?” His eyes darken from steamy pools of light blue to hard, murky ocean waters when I refuse to speak.

He lifts his hand and for a moment I think he’s going to hit me. I don’t flinch. I’ve taken beatings—I can handle what he dishes out. Pain and I are old friends.

I’m shocked when his fingers run through my hair. Pins and needles feather over my scalp and he’s not even touching me. I want to lean into his fingers like a cat and purr. We’re caught in some kind of hot, fucking sexual daze. My gaze lowers. I can see his cock straining against his jeans, proving we’re both aware of the invisible sexual burn between us. My gaze slides up over his ripped abs and bulging pecs. The pulse at his throat beats fast. I glance higher and our eyes lock. I want to eat him, lick him, devour him. His eyes tell me he wants the same.

The spell breaks when one of his men enters the room. Dagger takes a bottle of water from the guy, uncaps it, and hands it to me. I’m too thirsty not to gulp down as much as possible. I watch Dagger while drinking it. He grabs his beer, twists off the top, and takes a healthy pull before giving it back to the other man. “Find Skull and have him bring Red in here. I’ll need some rope.”

I almost spit out the water in my mouth. How stupid can I be? For a moment I thought there was something more between us than an unspoken answer to his question. My anger flashes back to atomic levels. Anger keeps me grounded, and no matter the ache in my pussy, I need to keep the fury at the forefront.

So, what the fuck do I do now? I knew when I began this trip that my death would most likely be the outcome. I never planned for Lorene to suffer punishment for my sins.

Dax

THE KICKASS LOOK IN
her eyes makes my dick hard. The burn of desire is gone and now she burns with hatred. And all that hatred centers on me. I know exactly where she gets her temper. Fox was like that too. Hot and cold. Warm never worked into the equation for him. I guess I’m convinced she’s who she says she is. Why the hell would a Hispanic woman show up at this club? There’s not exactly a welcome mat out front for anyone with dark skin. Claiming to be his daughter is too crazy not to be true.

Red enters the room with Skull following closely behind. She doesn’t show fear, which could work out very badly for her. I stand and move the chair several feet away from Sofia. I look at Red and gesture for her to sit. I roughly jerk her hands behind the back of the chair. She doesn’t resist. Skull moves in and takes over with the rope, securing her tightly. His face is grim.

“You need to make noise,” I whisper in Red’s ear. I hope she understands what I’m telling her. This won’t be pretty, but she’s a stubborn bitch and I know she can handle what’s about to happen without making the sounds required for it to work in her favor.

I glance over my shoulder. Sofia’s eyes are dark pinpoints of loathing, her jaw compressed tightly. She regrets firing over my head and it’s written plainly in her expression. Red needs to suffer the consequences of her betrayal and this is the only way it might work without her buried six feet under.

Protecting a child is one thing. It’s quite another to protect a woman who holds secrets to the club and betrays us. In Sofia’s case, she knows entirely too much. The question is… how far am I willing to go? Shooting them both would be easier than torture in my book.

“Skull, hold our Latina visitor.”

Skull moves fast, but Sofia is off the cot before he reaches her. She circles around me eyeing the door. She’d need to go through both of us to get out of the room. Her expression changes, and running away is no longer part of her plan. She attacks me with the force of a tiger. Not with claws, though. Fists and feet are her weapons and she’s fucking quick. She circles and keeps me between her and Skull. Where the fuck did she learn to fight this way? I take a strike to my jaw, which whips my head to the side and rattles my teeth.

“Back off,” I tell Skull.

If she wants to play, I’ll oblige.

The room is small, but that doesn’t detour her assault. She leaps over Red. Fucking almost flies. Her legs sweep out as soon as she’s on the other side of the chair, and I teeter and almost fall on Red. Skull’s back is flat against the wall by the cot. I only looked at him for a split second, when Sofia’s foot connects with my jaw in the exact place she hit me before.

Bitch!

I take a step back.

“Come on, pretty boy,” she says through gritted teeth. “Afraid the Latina will kick your ass?”

She’s fucking amazing. No fear, just enough fucking hatred to burn the clubhouse to the ground. I don’t see a chance of putting an end to this without hurting her. Hurting me doesn’t seem to be a problem for her, so fuck it.

I feign to the right, left, and right again. Prison taught me a lot. There are plenty of guys inside with the ability to fight. Sofia’s expecting the first and second move. Not the third. She moves to my left side as I do a half turn and plow my forearm into her stomach.

The air woofs from her lungs and I grab her and lift her from the floor. We’re facing each other and I’m ready for a head butt. Instead, she lands a solid kick in my thigh with her shoe. Her movement causes pain in my broken wrist too. Her hands come up and she grabs my ears almost ripping the fuckers off. I grunt. Damn that hurt. Her nails rake the skin of my upper arm. She’s fucking strong and almost impossible to control. She moans when I tighten my hold with one arm and grab a handful of her hair with the other. This time her fingernails dig into the side of my face.

“You fucking little bitch,” I hiss. “Skull, grab another chair and we’ll tie her to it too.” I huff out with exertion. I drag her to the cot and take her down. More scrambling ensues as I roll her to her belly so I’m lying half on her with her face pushed into the cot’s thin mattress. I hold her like this while waiting for Skull to come back with a chair. I don’t give a flying fuck if she can breathe or not. My ears burn like a motherfucker. She bucks beneath me and my dick rises to attention again. What is it about this hellion that turns me the fuck on?

I like petite. She’s not even close. I like soft. Sofia is rock hard, especially with her muscles straining beneath me. She’s nothing like Savannah. At least my wife had a brain in her head. Sofia is more wrath than calculation. Savannah used her woman’s gifts to gain just about anything she wanted. It worked every time. This woman spits vinegar with a world-class right hook to back it up.

I’m aware of Red watching us with interest. I know she’s also aware of my hard dick. If she smirks, I’ll fucking carry her to the front room and toss her through the window. It will accomplish what needs doing with some added blood and pain involved.

When Skull brings the chair in, I jerk Sofia up by her hair. She gasps for air and continues fighting. It takes both of us to tie her down. Her hair is a wild tumble around her face and even that turns me on. I’m a fucking freak when it comes to this woman. I need to get out of here and jack off.

Fuck it.

“Give me a minute,” I tell Skull when I’m sure she’s secured. I charge from the room and head across the hall to Fox’s old room. Last night, I tossed out everything that belonged to him. One of the whores washed the filthy, threadbare sheets for me so I could at least sleep in the bed. I head into the bathroom and shove my pants to my knees. I groan loudly when my fingers wrap around my cock. I don’t bother with slow and controlled. I jack off to the picture in my mind of Sofia tied to that damn chair and give another groan when, two minutes later, I come hard enough to hit the lid of the toilet seat. I rest my palm against the back wall with my head down doing my best to control my breathing as the initial waves pass.