When Dove Cries (16 page)

Dove was panting. Her nipples ached. Her pussy clenched as if wanting to feel Draven’s cock as it slid deep into her. Then, just when she was about to concede, he drew back. Her legs fell to the ground, but she couldn’t really support herself, so she collapsed against the tabletop and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Take your pants off,” he ordered in a deep, rumbling voice.

“John—”

“Do it!”

She quickly unbuckled her jeans and shimmied them off her slender hips. They fell to her feet in a puddle and she stepped out of them.

“Now your panties,” he ordered.

She hesitated for only a moment. He hadn’t made a move toward her, and although she didn’t know where this was going, she didn’t fear that he would take her without consent. Of course, a moment ago, she would gladly have caved to his every wish and this dominant alpha male he was displaying really turned her on.

She slid the panties off, leaving her in a T-shirt, bra and sneakers.

“Now, I want you to play with yourself,” he ordered as he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down low enough to pull out his long, thick cock. In the moonlight, she saw the tip glistening with moisture that she wanted desperately to taste. “Get on that tabletop, spread your legs, and play with that pretty pussy of yours.”

The command made her blood boil with excitement and she complied. Part of her was mortified that she was obeying his demands so easily, but a bigger part of her was so turned on that she knew she’d be climaxing quickly.

She wanted to see him jerking his cock, so she supported herself on one elbow, crunching her belly enough to be able to watch him. He coated his hand with his pre-cum and used that lubrication to begin a steady up and down pumping motion.

“Put your fingers in your pussy,” he ordered, his voice coming out in hot, breathless pants.

With her free hand, she spread her folds, using her middle finger to find her sensitive little nub. Back and forth, she rubbed it, loving the thrill of being so wanton in front of Draven. She had never realized she was such an exhibitionist. Her juices ran until she felt them sliding down her ass cheeks, so she left her clit and gently outlined her pussy lips. Her legs opened wider, and she knew, even under the moonlight, he could see how wet she was.

She dipped a finger into her pussy and her hips automatically bucked as she gasped. Oh, it felt so good. But more, she needed more. So she plunged a second finger into her wet little hole and her hips bucked again. Slowly she began to finger-fuck herself, her juices flowing even more.

Draven’s eyes were focused on her, where she pumped her cunt, in and out, in and out. The smell of musk and sex hung heavy in the air around them. He fucked his cock faster, causing him to moan. She couldn’t take her eyes off how beautiful he was, how magnificent his cock was, and she was beginning to unravel. A quickening sensation started in her belly, working its way down, so she quickened her pace. Then he was coming, his white cream shooting out of the tip as he groaned out his pleasure. Her orgasm swept over her and she couldn’t help closing her eyes as a guttural groan erupted from her mouth.

Even before she came down from her plateau, Draven knocked her hand out of the way and latched on to her pussy with his mouth. He sucked up her nectar, lapping up every inch of her and causing another mini-orgasm to rip through her, prolonging the first one. She cried out in pleasure as he licked her over and over until her body shook with the aftershocks and relaxed.

Only then did he let her go.

“Damn, baby, that was amazing,” he whispered.

“I’ve never been so wicked,” she said. “Anyone could’ve seen us.”

“That’s half the fun,” he replied and winked.

He stepped back and pulled up his pants, stuffing his spent cock back into his jeans. Then he helped her off the table and watched heatedly as she dressed.

“Will you move in with me?” he asked again.

She nodded. “Only if you let me redecorate.”

He frowned. “Well, sure. I came into some cash. I guess we could use it—”

She touched his chest and shook her head. “No, John. My father left me a life insurance policy and if I’m going to be part of the Red Wolves, then I want to use it make improvements. Starting with
our
house.”

“No, I’m the man of the house. I take care of you.”

She smiled serenely and patted his cheek. “We take care of each other. And once Cade returns, we will talk about this. Understand?”

She walked away because she was tired of his arguing and his hard-headedness. She was feeling the post orgasmic glow and didn’t want him spoiling it by opening his mouth.

Stubborn biker.

Chapter Seventeen

Cade sat at his desk in the FBI satellite office located in Casper, two hours away from Dove, and stared out of the window. His old biker cut rested on the chair and he liked having the smell of leather nearby. Had Draven told her his message, or, more accurately, had he told her the
right
message? He’d been busy, but not busy enough to get her completely off his mind.

How were the Red Wolves handling the sudden eviction of the Demon Devils? With a fucking party, probably. It had taken many agents to track down all the members of the Devils, and now they resided nearby in a Casper jail, held on suspicion of human trafficking. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the assholes knew what had been going on, but so far, they’d only found proof linking Lester Perry and Gunner Smith, who, unfortunately, had yet to be caught. It worried him that the fucker was still out there.

The phone on his desk rang, dragging him back from his mini-daydream, and he snapped up the receiver quickly.

“Vanaker,” he barked.

“This is Dr. Morrison at the medical examiner’s office,” the person greeted. “I have the result of the toxicology tests for Mr. Perry ready. Should I fax you a copy?”

“Yes, please,” he said and rattled off a fax number. “Did you run for digoxin and nifedipine?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Wait, I’m sending you the report now and I can go over with you the panel,” Dr. Morrison said, sounding a bit distracted.

Cade waited, tapping his pen against the edge of his desk as he looked out of the window once more. It probably would be best if he stayed away from Destiny. Dove was really young and he had a career that took him all over the United States. A little voice in the back of his mind mocked him and took bets on how long he could stay away from her. Still, it would probably be best for her to have a life with Draven, even if that did make his heart hurt.

“Here you go, Cade,” Freddie Mentone, his boss, said as he slapped the report onto his desk.

Cade blinked and picked it up. “Okay, Dr. Morrison, what am I looking at?”

“Well, there are elevated levels of methamphetamine plus cannabis in his system but halfway down is his digoxin level.”

“Hmm,” Cade muttered. “It seems to be high.”

“It is. High enough to rule that this was what killed him.”

“So… He was doped up so much that he accidentally took too many of his digoxin?”

“Well, I suppose that is a theory,” Dr. Morrison said, but there was doubt in the man’s voice. “Though I’m not going to put accidental overdose on the report until your case is closed.”

“And the autopsy? Nothing relevant?”

“No, except he did have a bad heart, a bad liver, and one kidney that was on the fritz. The man was a mess.”

“Okay, Dr. Morrison, thank you.”

He hung up and sat for a moment staring at the report. His gut burned, telling him that something wasn’t adding up.

“Do we still have all the evidence from the Demon Devils’ bar here?”

“Yep,” Freddie replied. He pulled open a drawer and pulled out a large folding file.

Cade rose and walked over to retrieve it.

“What are you looking for?”

“The ME is ruling the death as an overdose of digoxin,” he replied. “There was a bottle next to the bed but I remember it being almost full.” Cade flipped the file open and ran down the list until he found the medication and the box number it was located in.

Then he and Freddie walked to the next room and dug through the fifty or so boxes until they found the right one. Cade signed his initials on the tape before breaking the seal to find the bag that held the medicine.

“There it is,” Freddie replied, pointing.

Cade pulled the plastic bag out and opened it, grabbing the smaller bottle. He held it up and read the label.

“This had been filled five days before his death with a thirty-day supply,” he said, rattling the bottle around. Then he opened it and poured the small, round yellow pills into his palm and counted silently. “Twenty-five pills.”

“So how did he overdose on digoxin if the pills match up? Maybe a hidden stash?” Freddie asked.

“A hidden stash of heart medicine? Probably not. Besides, the agents would’ve found any other bottles and they didn’t.”

He dumped the pills back into the container and secured the evidence, before resealing the box and had Freddie sign to support the chain of custody.

“You don’t think he died accidentally, do you?” Freddie asked quietly.

Cade took a deep breath and shook his head. “Not when Gunner Smith is still on the loose. What if he killed Gray Dog? What if he knows the whereabouts of the other missing women? We haven’t found those records. I don’t think this is over.”

“Then I suppose you’re off to Destiny again.”

Chapter Eighteen

The tattoo parlor was actually quite quaint-looking, with two velvet armchairs in the tiny waiting area and fringe lamps in the corners. The front of the shop reminded Dove of an old bordello. The back, however, was all business. Tattoo pictures hung on the walls. Mirrors were everywhere. The two working chairs in the front looked like old rejects from a hair salon. The sound of a tattoo gun hummed from down the hallway.

“Where the fuck is Hot Pants?” Draven yelled as he stepped inside.

The humming stopped and, a second later, Branch stepped into the hallway from one of the closed doors.

“Stop yelling, asshole,” he snapped. “I could’ve fucked up what I’m working on.”

Draven waved off the comment. “Where’s Hot Pants?”

“Who’s Hot Pants?” Dove asked.

“The receptionist,” Branch answered.

“Ex,” Draven sneered.

“You can’t fire Hot Pants,” Branch noted. “She volunteers.”

“Well, she can volunteer at the clubhouse,” Draven muttered. “I’m sick of her disappearing all the time.”

“Where are we gonna find a new receptionist, Draven?” Branch muttered. “It’s not like we can just put an ad up on Craigslist, if you get my meaning.”

“I can fill in,” Dove volunteered.

Both men smiled at her, but she had a feeling that they were just humoring her.

“I get your meaning, Branch, and I’ll work on it, okay? Soon all the shit will be gone.”

“Not soon enough,” Branch muttered. “You ever coming back to work?”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

Branch only grunted as he turned and marched back into his room and closed the door. A second later, the hum of the tattoo gun snapped on.

“I’m serious about my offer,” Dove told him.

“I’ll think about it. Come on, wanna see my work area?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “Do you think I should get a tattoo?”

He touched her dark skin on her arm. “Do you know if you produce hypertrophic scarring when you cut your skin? People with more melanin tend to scar badly, and I wouldn’t want you to risk it.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve always healed fine from scrapes.”

“We can do a test, then, if you still want one, we’ll talk. You should think about what you want but when you decide, I’ll be happy to mark you.”

* * * *

Despite his hesitancy about her working, Dove ended up working the reception desk when the girl, Hot Pants, didn’t come back. She answered phones, booked clients and greeted the customers who showed up. She cleaned the waiting room as well as the two empty workstations, using a bleaching cleaner she found under the counter. When Draven’s final customer paid and left, she knew she’d love to work full-time at the shop.

They went home and she began dinner. She had moved in with Draven, and true to his word, he didn’t force the issue of sex. Every night, she slept in her bed and he slept in his. And they hadn’t repeated what they’d shared at the clubhouse. Perhaps that was a little sanctimonious of her but so be it.

Dove heard the bike long before she actually saw it and hope stabbed through her, causing her stomach to cramp a little in expectation. It had been over a week since Cade had left, and every day she waited for him to show up. Quickly, she hurried out of the house to stand on the porch.

The first sight of him brought tears to her eyes. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how much she’d missed him. He parked his bike and pulled off his helmet, staring at her, drinking her in, and she couldn’t stand one more minute. She hurried down the porch and launched herself at him. Since he’d just dismounted, he caught her and picked her up. Dove wrapped her legs around his waist and buried her face in his neck.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured.

She pulled back and looked at him. With him holding her, she was eye to eye. “Are you back for good?”

“We’ll see,” he said.

The porch door banged open. They both turned as one entity and saw Draven emerge from the house, frowning, with arms folded across his chest.

Dove unlocked her legs and Cade set her down. He stepped away from her toward the center of the driveway. She had an odd feeling he was waiting for Draven to do something.

“Why’d you come back?” Draven demanded.

“I told you I would,” Cade replied calmly. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Our
partnership
is over,” Draven said, making the emphasized word sound nasty. He walked forward, coming to the top of the steps, where he stared down at Cade with cold eyes. “You got the fucking bad guy.”

“We need to talk, to resolve what’s between us.”