At Any Cost (11 page)

“Hey.”

Dear God. Did he realize that even a simple word in that deep, edgy voice was enough to cause her sex drive to shift into high gear? She wanted to get him naked right here and now and straddle him in the middle of the snowbank.

“Hey.” She tried to keep her voice as calm and cool as Nick but instead, it quavered on the word.
Awesome
. “How was your day?”
Ugh. You're so lame!

“It's a hell of a lot better now that you're home.”

Livy opened her mouth to respond, but Nick leaned in and put his mouth to hers before she could form a coherent thought. The kiss was soft and slow, and far too brief.

Oh, hell
. Livy pressed her heels into the soles of her boots as though the simple act would keep her from tackling Nick to the ground. Sharks swimming in chummed waters had better self-control than she did right now. Locking her left knee had been a bad idea, though. It buckled as a flash of pain sliced through her. She'd have to wear a brace to work tomorrow.

“I'm sorry about last night.” If she didn't at least try to attempt conversation, Livy would be dragging him into the house by the collar of his sweater. And holy fuck did he ever fill it out.

“What's the matter with your leg?”

He didn't miss anything, did he? Was it because he was a cop that Nick was so observant? Livy wanted to think it was because of his interest in her. “I yard-saled on Alpine today and fucked up my knee.”

Nick quirked a brow and a corner of his mouth hinted at amusement. A snowflake drifted from the sky and clung to his long lashes. She fought the urge to brush it away. “Yard-saled?”

“I wiped out. Bad. My skis and poles flew off and ended up about twenty yards up the run from where I landed. My hat and goggles went for a ride, too. I left my gear on the hill. You know, spread out like a yard sale.”

His amusement melted under an expression of concern. His brows drew down over his eyes and his lips thinned. “Are you all right?”

Livy's stomach took a similar tumble, a moment of weightlessness before it crashed down. Aside from her mom and her coaches, no one had ever shown much concern for her. It was dangerous to let herself feel anything for Nick. To let him feel anything for her. Three weeks would pass far too quickly and this fairy tale she'd constructed for herself would come to an end.

“I'm fine.” She brushed off his concern as though it meant nothing to her. “I'll probably have to wear a brace and ice it for a couple of days, that's all.”

Snow had begun to accumulate in Nick's hair. What had started off as a light dusting of snow in the air began to fall more steadily. There was no point in standing out in the cold, getting wet, when they could be inside. Though Livy had to admit that it would be hard not to pick up where they'd left off last night if that were to happen. She should be putting Nick at arm's length, not inviting him closer.

“You're going to be a snowman if we stand out here much longer. Want to come inside?”

Livy chose to ignore her mantra of the past four years. Just because Joel had dirty cops on his payroll didn't mean all cops were dirty. And besides, Nick worked in Washington. She doubted he'd know or even care about something that happened in Northern California. She deserved to live her life, damn it. Even if it was only for a few weeks.

Nick's gaze heated at the invitation and Livy no longer felt the chill of winter on her skin. Her knees threatened to give out on her again, but it wasn't because of any injury. Unless she considered the irreversible damage Nick would undoubtedly do to her heart if she let this continue.

Athletes learned to live with pain. What was one more hurt?

A quiet moment passed. Nick's gaze swallowed her until everything melted away but him. He reached out and fiddled with the end of one braid. Indecision made an unwelcome appearance in his expression and Livy's heart pounded. She'd missed her chance last night, hadn't she? The moment was passed.

“Let's go out tonight.” He made the suggestion as though he needed a distraction.

“Again?” Aside from her dinner date with Nick, Livy hadn't been out after dark since she moved to McCall. Unless you counted trips to the grocery store as
going out
. “Didn't your credit card get enough of a workout last night?”

Nick gave a low chuckle that sent a pleasant rush of adrenaline through Livy's veins. “I told you I've got cabin fever,” he said. “Nothing fancy. We'll grab a bite and see what this town has to offer for nightlife.”

She could answer that for him: nothing. “There's a movie theater in Cascade, about twenty miles south. The only other nightlife can be summed up in one hockey rink and a few bars.”

Nick smiled. In the back of Livy's mind she heard the
ping!
that should have accompanied the act. Prince Charming with a side of dark intensity. Was there a better combo? “Sounds good to me. Which bar is the best?”

His gaze held hers. Didn't he care that he was standing in a snowstorm in nothing but a sweater? For that matter, did she? Nick had a way of making the world around her disappear. “I have no idea,” she said, low. “I've never been to any of them.”

The spark in his dark eyes softened. “I think we'd better remedy that, don't you?”

Damn
. Was there anything he'd ask of her that she wouldn't do? “Give me an hour to get ready?”

Nick's smile widened and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Take your time. We have all night.”

Oh boy
. Nick coaxed a recklessness in her that she'd thought long gone. Livy was so, so screwed.

Chapter Eleven

“Any of you find that bitch yet?”

Joel eyeballed every sorry son of a bitch seated at the long table. For four fucking years he'd been looking for her. The little twat up and ran at the first sign of trouble, which proved she wasn't quite as dumb as he'd given her credit for. She knew way too much about his operation for him to let her just disappear. If the wrong people got ahold of her before he did, he'd be sent away for good. Either that or he'd wind up in a shallow grave somewhere. That wasn't going to fucking happen.

“Chick's a fuckin' ghost, man.” Shorty sat back in his chair, arm slung over the back. “Ain't nobody gonna find her.”

“Bullshit. Someone knows where she is. You ain't lookin' hard enough.”

“You remember Bill Stuart who used to run with the Lords of Malice up by Idaho?”

All eyes turned to the prospect at the far end of the table. The kid sat up a little straighter in his seat, suddenly full of confidence.

Joel set his forty on the table, the barrel pointed at the kid who thought he was tough shit. “I don't remember asking you to open your mouth, prospect.”

His shit-eating grin faded. Joel didn't have time for these little pricks. So goddamned full of themselves. When he'd been a prospect, the club's officers had taken turns kicking his ass. And that was before they'd torn the shit out of his bike and made him rebuild it from scratch. These cocky motherfuckers had it too damned easy now.

He kept his eyes downcast and said, “I think I might know someone who's seen her, that's all.”

Joel scowled. He'd put out feelers for Kari years ago and had come up empty-handed time and again. He found it hard to believe this little shit had a lead on her when none of his other—and much more connected—guys did. Still, he wasn't going to ignore an opportunity to get his hands on her, no matter where the intel was coming from. “You think so, huh? When and where the fuck did Bill Stuart think he saw her?”

“It wasn't Bill,” the kid said. “Some guy he used to ride with says he saw her. Back in August. Some little backwoods town in Idaho.”

“August.”

Joel let the word hang. Six fucking months ago. Kari could have blown out of town by then and that was even if some fucking guy who knew some guy who knew this dipshit kid sitting at his table even knew what he was talking about. Joel wrapped his hand around the grip of his forty and brushed the trigger with his index finger. “What's your name again, son?”

The kid swallowed hard. “Z-zack. Everybody calls me Z-Dog.”

Shorty leaned in. “He's been hanging around the clubhouse since last summer. Just barely became a prospect a month or so ago.”

Joel sneered. “And that's supposed to mean somethin' to me?” He leveled the gun on
Z-Dog
's face. Jesus. He ought to shoot him for having such a stupid nickname.

“I'm just sayin', brother.” No way was Shorty gonna jump in to save the kid's neck. Not when it might be his that's on the block because of it. “You want to find Kari or not?”

At the far end of the table, Z-Dog looked like he was about to piss his pants. Joel released the hammer and set the gun back down on the table.

“How's this guy know it's her he saw?”

“Tattoo on her wrist,” the kid replied. “She was serving drinks at some music festival. Ski area. The guys rode their bikes up there because they knew one of the bands performing.”

Joel's interest piqued. “He say what the tattoo looked like?”

“A tree with the branches growing into the roots.”

It was the first promising bit of intel they'd gotten in four years. Joel swallowed down the rage that burned in his chest as he thought of the wasted months. If the lead didn't pan out, he'd blow a hole the size of a baseball in the prospect's head.

“Where's the town?”

“McCall, I think. Little place outside of Boise.”

Joel regarded the prospect. He should shoot him anyway. Trust was a valuable commodity and there weren't many people he gave his to. Kid could be a fucking cop for all he knew. There'd been too much heat on him for the past four years to jeopardize his freedom now.

“Everybody out.” The possibility of the prospect's intel panning out earned him a temporary stay of execution. “Except you.” He stabbed his finger at Z-Dog. “And you,” he said to Shorty.

The room cleared in a heartbeat. Joel let the silence saturate the room. No one dared make a sound. Every single charter of the Black Death MC had been on the lookout for Kari Hanson for the past four years. She had something that belonged to Joel and he wanted it back. No one had seen her or heard so much as a fucking peep. Like Shorty said, the bitch had gone ghost. He didn't know a damned thing about her aside from the fact that she had a tight ass and a lying, thieving asshole for a father. He'd tried to dig up any information about friends or any other family and came up empty-handed. She could have a taught a criminal or two how to hide like a boss.

Not even the cops had a lead on her. And Joel had enough of them on his payroll to know. Four fucking years he'd been looking over his shoulder, dodging the feds. Worried that his goddamned ledger would end up in the wrong hands. His business associates wouldn't appreciate their names coming across a federal agent's desk. He didn't give a shit about the heat that was on him. No, what Joel feared was being taken out by the Russians or the Cartel because that stupid bitch decided to give in to her conscience.

“How well do you know Bill?” he asked Z-Dog.

“Pretty well. He rode with the Satan's Minions charter from out by Crescent City before he went nomad. Joined the Lords after that I'm pretty sure. I think he's trustworthy.”

“You
think
?” Joel leveled his gaze.

“He's solid,” Z-Dog amended.

They were on good terms with the Minions and the Lords of Mayhem. Both had run shipments of guns into Arizona and Montana for him a few years back. Joel didn't trust nomads, though. Too fickle. When a man put a patch on his jacket, he should keep his ass loyal and grounded. “Shorty, get ahold of Rich with the Minions and see if you can get any info on this nomad.”

Shorty nodded. “And if he checks out?”

Joel wanted that ledger and he wouldn't stop until he got it back. “You and the prospect will go on a road trip.”

“Idaho?” Shorty sneered. “Don't they have snow and shit up there this time of year?”

Joel grabbed Shorty by the jacket and hauled him out of his chair. He gave him a rough shake and stood nose to nose with the club's VP. “I don't care if they've got a fucking zombie apocalypse up there. I want my ledger and I want that bitch dead. You understand me?”

Shorty's eyes narrowed but he didn't utter a word. “Yeah, I've got it.”

Joel let go of his jacket with a forceful shove. “Good.”

Chapter Twelve

Nick couldn't muster even an ounce of guilt over asking Livy out again. The second he laid eyes on her any decent, moral, or even marginally responsible decision-making skills he might have possessed evaporated. He had a little under three weeks left of his month of mandatory leave and Nick knew that with Morgan's help, he could have a solid lead on Meecum's whereabouts before his time was up. Every second with Livy counted because it could be his last. The thought soured his stomach and caused a hollow ache to open up in his chest.

When she found out why he'd come here, she'd hate him. If Morgan found something out that would implicate Livy in a crime, forcing Nick to make an arrest, he would surely hate himself. He'd never harbored any soft emotions for anyone who chose to break the law. You do the crime, you do the time. Period. But ever since he'd met her, Nick had begun to wonder if his black-and-white outlook on the law was fair. If Livy had done something illegal, it could have been under duress.

Wishful thinking
. Whatever her involvement with Joel Meecum and the Black Death MC, Nick knew it was a pipe dream to assume it had been innocent.

But God, he wanted her to be innocent.

Before he could get out of his truck, Livy was headed down the stairs. She pulled open the passenger-side door and climbed in with the aid of the oh-shit bar just above the window. Though she'd tried to cover her wince of pain, Nick hadn't missed it. She must have crashed pretty hard for her knee to still be hurting.

“I didn't realize your knee was as banged up as it is. We don't have to go out.”

Her brows knit and she gave him a tight-lipped smile as though trying to gauge his sincerity. “I'm fine. I've had worse injuries.”

Nick buckled up and pulled out of Livy's driveway. “Like what?”

“I broke my arm during a race when I was thirteen. Pulled a hammy when I was fifteen. I've twisted knees, ankles, hyperextended my elbow. Bruises, bumps, concussions. When you go ham, you get hurt.”

Laughter erupted in Nick's chest. “Go ham?”

“Yeah. Go crazy, go all-out. Balls to the wall. If you want to win, you find your flow state and tell fear to fuck off.”

Yard sales, going ham . . . flow state? It was like Livy spoke a foreign language. He couldn't wait to hear what she cooked up next. “You go ham a lot?”

Livy shrugged. “I did. It's why I won most of my races. It's also why I crashed a lot.”

“I've seen some pretty epic crashes on TV. It looks like it hurts to wreck.”

“Oh yeah.” Livy gave a quiet laugh. “When you're tucked and barreling at super GS gates going sixty-five or seventy miles an hour and catch an edge, the landing hurts like a bitch. Especially when the course is iced.”

“Iced?” Jesus, that didn't sound good.

“If the snow's too soft, they'll spray the course with water to ice it down. It helps to keep it from breaking down after so many runs and it makes the snow faster, too.”

“You're certifiably crazy. You know that, right?”

Livy laughed. “I think anyone has to be a little crazy to strap a couple of thin composite planks to your feet and point yourself downhill on a four-thousand-foot vertical drop.”

Downhill skiers were, in fact, crazy. Nick didn't care about anyone else, though. Just the woman sitting beside him. “You've got that right. But you should be careful up there. I don't want to see anything else on your body broken or hurt.”

They ended up at a place called The Sushi Bar for dinner. Livy had bought a few of the rolls they sold to the grocery store and she admitted to wanting to try out the restaurant for a while now. By the time they were done eating, Nick was convinced they'd eaten almost everything the place had to offer. The Sushi Bar actually rivaled the sushi places in Seattle and that was saying something. They ate, drank too much sake, talked about nothing and everything. Nick didn't press Livy for any more personal details. Deep down, he didn't want to. Livy made him want to douse all of his convictions with gasoline and light a match. That part of him that needed to know the truth—was desperate to discover what her history was with Meecum—dulled in the brilliance of her presence. He'd never met a woman like Livy. And the way she made him feel scared the shit out of him.

She rested her arms on the table. He reached out to catch her right wrist in his hand and turned her wrist upward. He resisted the urge to brush his thumb over the black ink of the tattoo and, instead, brought his questioning gaze to hers.

“Tree of life,” she said with a nervous laugh. “My coaches used to have me meditate the day before a big race. You envision the tree growing, the branches going back into the ground to become the roots of the tree as it grows again and again into infinity. I got the tattoo as a reminder to stay calm even when things feel like they're out of control.”

Nick's brow furrowed. God, he wanted to put his mouth to that mark. Kiss the ink on her skin. “I love it,” he replied. “I think we all need a reminder to stay calm every once in a while.”

She cleared her throat and straightened in her chair. From the corner of his eye, Nick caught the pleasant flush of color on Livy's cheeks before she turned to look out the window. His gut curled into a ball and he let out a slow breath.
Jesus, what are you doing, man?
He was digging himself a damned big hole, that's what.

“I'm so full I don't think I can move out of my seat,” Livy said with a laugh. “You seriously have to quit feeding me.”

Nick took in the sight of her, so at ease, her cheeks painted with a blush and her smile wide and shining like the sun. Pleasure and contentment radiated from her and pride swelled in Nick's chest that he'd been the one to make her feel that way.

“I can't,” Nick remarked. “Not until we've eaten at every restaurant in town.”

Livy's brow arched. “Every restaurant? You sure about that?”

“Every single one,” Nick said solemnly.

“You might wish you hadn't laid down that gauntlet.”

Nick didn't give a shit about where he ate or what he did. What he really wanted was an excuse to spend as much time with Livy as possible. “I'm not leaving town until I see more than just the view from my kitchen.”

“There's not much to see,” Livy said with a wry grin. “I bet we can cover it all in about a week.”

That might be all the time Nick had left. He pushed the maudlin thought—and the worry that clawed at him—to the back of his mind. There wasn't any use in overthinking the situation until he heard back from Morgan and it was hard telling if the small bit of information he'd managed to get from Livy would do them any good. Christ, part of him actually hoped that Morgan would come up empty-handed.

“Where to next?” Nick could have taken her home, prayed she'd invite him inside again. He didn't want to take the chance that she'd come to her senses and send him on his way after last night's epic fail, though. He'd keep her out until sunrise if he had to.

“There's not much to do but hit up the bars,” Livy said with a nervous laugh. Nick recognized a bit of the familiar anxiety begin to creep up on her again. Livy's shoulders inched up toward her ears and her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “I've never been to any of them.”

“Never?” He tried to sound surprised but by now he knew Livy had a done a good job of staying off the radar. He wanted to tell her that she had nothing to worry about. That he'd protect her from
whatever
she was afraid of. But he knew that it was impossible to do so. Especially when he might well be one of the things she was hiding from.

Livy looked away as though embarrassed. “I'm sort of a homebody.”

“Do you want to go home?” Nick didn't want to pressure her or cause her any more anxiety. Even if he didn't want the night to end.

“No.” She spoke so softly he had to strain to hear the word. “I don't want to go home.”

Her vulnerability nearly laid him low. God, he hoped Morgan got skunked in his research of Livy, because Nick knew in his heart that there was no way in hell she was anything but innocent.

* * *

Every moment spent with Nick made her more and more reckless. She'd been out more in the short time since meeting him than she had in all of the four years that she'd lived here. Joel had eyes everywhere. Cops, FBI. Criminal connections that spanned the globe. Nowhere was safe from curious eyes and ears. She wouldn't be surprised if there was a price on her head. Scratch that. She was positive there was hefty price on her head. And yet, she was out enjoying McCall's meager nightlife as though she didn't have a care in the world.

Nick made her want to reclaim and enjoy the life she'd put on a shelf when she'd left California, though. He made her want to laugh and let her guard down. He made her want to
feel
. And she was too far gone to his seductive charm to think clearly. She'd stopped making good decisions the moment his lips claimed hers the night before.

Livy was simply too far gone to care.

It seemed ridiculous to drive a couple of blocks from the restaurant to the bar, but with the snow coming down so heavy—big, white flakes that left little to no visibility—neither of them was in the mood to walk. Livy had always been a winter girl. She liked the cold, loved to wear sweaters and layers. Thick-soled, heavily insulated boots were so much better than a pair of flip-flops or heels. But as she got out of the truck and headed for The Canoe bar, she wished her outfit wasn't quite so utilitarian. Especially when she saw how some of the other women were dressed once they went inside.

Livy nearly turned around and walked back out the door. She'd never been overly concerned about her appearance but being with Nick had sparked some ridiculous girly urge to do her hair, put on a fuck-ton of makeup, and pour herself into a sexy outfit that was too uncomfortable for her to really enjoy herself in.

She stopped abruptly and Nick bumped into her back. Rather than pull away, he stood rooted to his spot on the floor. His hands came to rest on her hips and he leaned over her right ear. His breath caressed the outer shell and Livy shuddered. “Come on,” he murmured. “It'll be okay. Let me buy you a drink.”

Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea
. Instinct tugged at the back of Livy's mind and she let out a forceful gust of breath. How could she turn around and leave when Nick's voice was so confident in her ear? So reassuring. And God, his hands on her hips felt good. She tilted her head up to speak over the din of music. “Okay.” His crisp, masculine scent hit her and a rush of heat filtered through Livy's body. She wanted to lick him. Just run her tongue from his throat to the lobe of his ear. A groan of pure sexual frustration worked itself up her throat and she swallowed it down. She hadn't been with a man since she'd moved to McCall. Talk about a dry spell. Her night of foreplay with Nick was the closest she'd gotten to anything that even resembled sex. If she didn't find a little satisfaction soon, she might spontaneously combust. He'd shown up in her life out of nowhere and reminded Livy of everything she'd been missing out on. Moving on would be even harder because of him, and still, she couldn't bring herself to put any distance between them.

She refused to think about future heartache now. She didn't want to waste another minute of time with Nick.

They found a table at the back of the bar. Livy shucked her coat and hung it on the chair behind her and once again wished she was wearing something more attractive than a too-big sweater and her clunky boots. Nick's gaze warmed as it roamed over her. A tingle of sensation spread from the center of Livy's chest outward and settled at the tips of her nipples as she called to mind the way it had felt to have his mouth on her.

As they waited for a server, Livy took a quick look around and acquainted herself with the exits. It sucked balls that she felt the need to have an escape route ready to roll in the event a gang of nasty-looking bikers strode through the door. Would Joel be so stupid, though? He'd probably be stealthier than that. He'd send someone who looked like a Sunday school teacher or a harmless-looking old man. Which was why Livy lived like a hermit. She couldn't trust anyone or anything. She trusted Nick, though, didn't she? Which seemed ridiculous since he was the most dangerous man she'd met in a long time.

The intensity that boiled just below the surface of his skin drove her crazy. It excited her, ignited her desires, set her on freaking
fire
. She couldn't help but want him. He drew her to him in a way she was helpless to fight. Her want of him scared her and yet, Livy knew that she wouldn't be satisfied until they'd finished what they'd started last night.

“Have I mentioned how much I love that sweater?” Nick situated his chair so they sat close to each other and he put his mouth to her ear as he spoke. Pleasant chills raced along Livy's flesh. Every touch, every word was electric.

A smile curved Livy's lips and she angled her mouth so that it rested against his cheek. “You do?”

“Oh yeah. I'd like to see you wearing just this sweater, with nothing underneath.”

A hot wave of desire crashed over her. Livy started as Nick reached beneath her sweater and laid his palm to her bare torso. His touch crept upward toward her breast. His thumb brushed almost innocently over her nipple and Livy sucked in a breath.

“I've been thinking about these all day,” he murmured.

Livy let out a nervous laugh. “My nipples?”

“Tiny, pink, delicious nipples,” Nick amended.