Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds Motorcycle Club): Vegas Titans Series (12 page)

I stand up, sliding my hands under her shoulder and pulling
the top of her body forward along the couch so that she bends over onto her
hands and knees. The sight of her ass up in the air waiting for me is almost
too much. I kneel on the couch behind her and slip a finger inside her ass and
hear her gasp. Not tonight, but soon, I think as I circle my finger there to
get her used to the sensation. I grab my dick at the base and line it up
against her opening. I feel her moving her knees apart to accommodate me and I
groan as I feel her warm walls stretch around me as I slide inside. I moan as I
feel her directly against my cock, flesh to flesh, her wetness enveloping me.

She takes me up to the hilt and I move my hands to her hips.
She relaxes against my palms, giving her body over to me. I tighten my core to
stay still as I push her down my shaft. I don't have to fight to stay in the
moment like I did with other women; every cell in my body is here right now,
with her. I pull her back toward me and then out to my tip again, marveling at
the sensation and at the sight of her body taking all of me in. I start
thrusting faster, now pushing my hips in to meet her. She groans, falling onto
her elbows, and I move one hand around to circle her clit. I grab her other hip
hard to keep her steady as I plunge inside her. I grit my teeth to keep myself
from coming too quickly—something I've never had to worry about with anyone
else—but I hear her begin to cry out, her head dropping to the couch.

I let myself go, grabbing her hips with both hands as I slam
into her again and again. She screams with pleasure as I groan, releasing
myself inside her. After a few more strokes, I collapse next to her as she
straightens her knees, still inside her as she lies curled next to me. I bury
my nose in her blonde hair as she takes my hand in hers and kisses my knuckles.

"You still have your shirt on," she murmurs
drowsily. She doesn't seem suspicious, it's just an idle observation, but I
don't want to lie to her. So I don't say anything, I just kiss the back of her
bare shoulder, hoping she'll let it go. Thankfully, she's silent, though I
realize by her deep breathing it's because she's fallen asleep. I pull her a
little closer against me to keep her warm as I stare at the back of her head.

I can't fall asleep yet. I have to figure out what I'm going
to tell Bark.

Chapter Thirteen

Jo

I shift a little without opening my eyes, and feel Holt's
warm breath against my neck. I smile. I feel a scratchy blanket on my hip that
he must have pulled over us. The bright light in the living room makes me
squint as I slowly open my eyes. I'm quickly starting to feel at home here, and
with Holt.

Something changed with him last night—I felt it. He opened
up somehow. Not just that he told me more about his past, there was some
internal shift, too.

I glance around the room, not wanting to wake up Holt yet. I
like feeling him curled around me, his arm draped over my waist. A coat of
paint would really brighten this room up. And the space would be more open if
the armchair was on the other side, by the window. And maybe a couple prints on
the wall…

Whoa, whoa. What am I doing? Already planning on moving in?
We just decided we were exclusive last night. We've only known each other a
couple weeks. Has our relationship really been as intense as I think it's been,
or is it just that he's only the second guy I've ever been with? Holt said he
doesn't really date, so maybe it's been special for him, too.

Or maybe it's because of the shooting, making everything in
my life appear more vivid and in-focus. And then that guy with the knife last
night. Holt didn't seem that ruffled by the experience. Was it just because
he's been in a lot of fights, like he said? I shake my head at my suspicions.
It's not like I've been completely honest, either. I haven't been completely
open with him about the shooting. A horrible thought occurs to me: if I'm in
danger because of what I saw, could he be in danger because he's with me?

I feel him shift behind me, and his hand moves onto my
hipbone and pulls me back toward him. He smiles at me, blinking the sleep out
of my eyes, then frowns.

"What's wrong?" he asks with a yawn. I sigh. He
was so open with me last night, and my lying to him might actually be putting
him in danger.

"There's something I have to tell you."

"Uh-oh. This sounds serious. Should I have coffee
first?"

"Maybe."

"Tell me," he says, his eyes darkening as he
understands it's something big.

I bite my lip, trying to keep the tears that immediately
threaten at bay. "OK. Remember how I told you I saw a shooting?" He
nods. "It was that one at the gas station by my apartment, maybe you saw
it on the news. The 'Gas Station Murders.' I was just going in to get frozen
pizza for dinner…"

My voice breaks. I haven't told anyone the whole story yet
and it feels like I'm reliving it.

"It's OK," he says, sliding his arms around me and
rubbing my back. "Take a deep breath."

I try to steady my voice as I continue. "So I was just
back in the frozen foods section, and this guy came in and shot the clerk
behind the counter and this other man that was in there. And then I heard the
guy talking on the phone to a cop, and so I was too scared to tell the cops
anything."

"To tell them about what you saw, you mean?"

"Well, that's the thing. I didn't really see anything
anyway." I shake my head. "No, I'm just making excuses. It was really
because I was scared."

"But you didn't see the shooter's face?" he asks
intently.

"No."

"Well, then you don't really have anything to tell the
cops anyway."

"No. There was this one weird thing. He was making this
noise, like a clicking sound."

"What do you mean? Like snapping his fingers?" he
asks, the light from the window catching the green flecks in his eyes as his
pupils dilate.

"No, not snapping. It's hard to describe. I think I'd
know it if I heard it again, but I'm not sure what it was. But it was
definitely coming from him. It got louder when he got closer."

"Are you sure? Memory is funny. Maybe it was something
mechanical, the AC unit or something, and your mind just fused it all
together."

"No. I'm positive. Though it's not like that's
something the police could even use…some kind of mysterious clicking noise?
It's just, they think it was a robbery, but I know it's not. He must've just
taken the money to make it look like that. Or maybe the cop he was talking to
took it later, I don't know." I pause, waiting for him to jump in, but
he's silent. "I'm sorry—should I not have told you? It's just, I want to
be honest like you, and what if that guy knows now that there was a witness?
They said there wasn't a surveillance tape. What if he took it? I could be
putting you in danger just by being with you."

I watch him swallow and blink a few times. "No, no, you
can't think like that," he rasps, his voice catching in his throat.
"If anything…" he trails off, looking down, then his eyes snap back
up to mine. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'm going to protect
you."

"You don't have to get involved in this."

"Yes, I do. Besides, you saved my life last night. I owe
you."

"Do you think I should go to the cops?"

He pauses again. "No. I think you made the right
decision. It's too risky. If there's one bad cop, there could be more."

"And the tape? I was wearing the shirt from my
restaurant when I was in the gas station. What if he saw it?"

"If nothing's happened by now, you're probably fine. Or
maybe there wasn't a tape in there at all, right? Who knows about the security
in that place?"

"Yeah, yeah," I murmur, trying to let his words
reassure me. I look over his face worriedly. He's staring into space now at
some imaginary point in between us. "Are…are you OK?"

He pulls his face back quickly, his blank stare
disappearing. "Yes, yeah, sorry. I mean, I'm not the one who saw it."
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into the nook under his chin.
"I'm glad you told me. I'm so sorry you have to go through this."

I let tears slide freely down my cheeks as he holds me,
feeling like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders by telling him, and
hearing that he thinks I made a smart decision. It feels good having him in my
corner.

"You want me to take you home before work?" he
finally asks. "Or you could chill here."

"Mmm, no. Being inside by myself is when I feel the
most anxious, actually."

"Wish you could come to the site with me today. We're
short a guy."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he's following some girl across the country."

"No, I meant, could you really use me? I mean, I know
you were kind of joking, but…I don't know…it looks like a beautiful day out. It
would feel good to use my hands. If I wouldn't just be in the way. I'm strong,
too!"

"Oh, you're strong, huh?" he asks, grinning. He
slides his giant hand around my bicep. "Flex."

I ball my fist up and do as he says. A small ball of muscle
forms in my upper arm and I raise my eyebrows proudly. And then he tenses his
fingers and squashes it right back down.

"Well, the plants aren't going to do that," I
point out. He bursts out laughing. "C'mon, I'll be helpful!"

"Well, maybe it would be a good idea to keep an eye on
you," he says, his grin disappearing. "Alright. But I'm not going to
take it easy on you. You take the same breaks as the rest of my crew."

"Oh, of course, don't worry. I'm a hard worker."

A trickle of sweat beads down the side of my face and I wipe
it away with a careless swipe of my gloved hands. We stopped at my apartment
for clothes I wouldn't mind getting dirty, and now I'm shoveling a hole in the
dirt for a row of trees to go in outside a McMansion in a ritzier town just
down the highway. It's not exactly the great outdoors, but it's a whole lot
better than standing behind the bar at Billy's.

I glance over at the hole Dale is digging next to me. OK,
it's a lot deeper than mine, but I'm certainly not slowing them down any. I get
a better grip on my shovel and drive it down into the dry dirt as hard as I
can. I can't imagine how much water the landscaping at this place takes, though
Holt said on the ride over that he always urges his clients to use native
plants that won't suck up as much water.

"Helloooo!"

I glance up to see the source of the voice as I pile the
dirt next to me. My eyes widen as I see a woman in a silky robe flitting down
the flagstone steps to our work area at the back of her yard. Dale chuckles
next to me.

"We get a lot of the bored housewife business, thanks
to him," he says, nodding in Holt's direction. Holt drops the small tree
he's carrying on his shoulder like it weighs nothing to greet the woman.

"It's the middle of the day. Why doesn't she have
clothes on?" I grunt next to him.

"Oh, I've seen worse. Once this woman took a shower in
the bathroom facing the yard and dried off with the shades wide open, as though
she forgot we were there. Trust me, she didn't forget."

"But, it's just business, right?" I ask, keeping
my eyes on the widening hole beneath me.

Dale laughs. "Don't worry, JoJo, Holt doesn't stick his
pen in the company ink."

I glance back up at Holt and the homeowner to see her narrow
her eyes at me. "Ma'am," I say very seriously, with a respectful nod,
before returning to my work. I hear Dale try to turn his snort into a laugh
next to me.

A minute later, I see the woman's pink robe disappearing
back up the walkway out of the corner of my eye. A moment later. Holt's boots
appear next to me.

"You're very professional," he says with a grin.

"Hey, I see what you've got going on here. I'm not
going to get in the way. It's like female bartenders who wear a push-up bra to
get bigger tips. I get it."