Riding Steele #1 (2 page)

And even if she did …

He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “I can hardly wait.” The hand on her shoulder slid to the base of her neck and he squeezed, ensuring he reminded her of what he liked.

*  *  *

Wild Card grabbed another handful of the nachos, covered in meat, cheese and salsa, and dropped them onto his plate.

“Why bother with the plate? You're going to be finishing those on your own.” Shock tossed back the rest of the beer in his glass and stood up.

“You guys really going?” Wild Card asked.

“We told you we were leaving after this beer, but you pulled a typical Card Trick and ordered them.”

“I'm not finished with my beer.”

Steele chuckled as he stood up, too. “That makes one of us. Just join us later, man.”

The others all stood up except Rip, who was staring across the bar.

“You coming?” Raven ran her hand over his shoulder affectionately and squeezed.

Rip dragged his gaze from the woman in the black dress across the bar to look at Raven. “Yeah, of course, baby.”

But then he turned and leaned close to Wild Card. “Look, keep an eye on her, okay?”

“Why? What's up?” Wild Card asked.

“Something's not right. The guy just gave her an expensive-looking necklace, but she doesn't seem too happy about it. And check out the dress. She's not comfortable in that or the shoes.”

Wild Card glanced at the woman who was staring at her tall stemmed glass. He had seen when the guy had flashed a box with a glittering necklace inside and then fastened it around the woman's neck, but he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. She hadn't bubbled all over the guy, but some women were more subdued in their reactions. He hadn't thought anything of it. But Rip, he was an ex-cop and he could read people. If he said there was something wrong, Wild Card wouldn't question it.

And he didn't question why Rip would suggest he keep an eye on her. Steele had taken an interest in her, for whatever reason, so that put her under Steele's protection. That meant she was also under the protection of every man who rode with Steele.

Wild Card nodded and Rip stood up, then followed Raven toward the door.

Wild Card watched the woman as he ate his nachos. She was hot as all get-out, and that body-hugging dress was spectacular, but he now noticed little things that made him understand why Rip had said she was uncomfortable in it. She kept discreetly tugging on the hem, and under the table she would slip her foot from the high-heeled shoe and rub it against her slender ankle, then slide it back again. Clearly, she was itching to be out of them.

Damn, but they were so sexy. He wanted to think she loved wearing them, and that she loved the attention of every man's gaze on the sway of her shapely ass as she walked in them.

He wished Steele hadn't vetoed kidnapping the woman. Kidnapping her didn't mean bedding her, but who knows? Maybe she'd be turned on by being surrounded by a gang of bikers and she'd decide she wanted to put out.

Raven sure hadn't been the type he'd have figured to get involved with the whole gang of them, but she'd surprised them all. And she was one hot fuck. Who knew with this woman?

*  *  *

“No, thanks,” Laurie said as Donovan tipped the champagne bottle to her glass to refill it, but he ignored her.

He filled it to the top, then added to Joan's and Henry's glasses, but only filling them a quarter before pouring the last bit into his own.

He lifted his glass. “To my beautiful woman.” The others raised their glasses and clinked and she reluctantly joined them. She didn't want any more champagne. It went straight to her head and she wanted to keep her wits about her. But as she sipped, Donovan subtly nudged her arm to deepen the sip.

He glanced at his watch. “Aren't you two going to be late for your play?”

“We've got plenty of time,” Henry answered.

“But, honey,” Joan said with a smile, “I'm sure these two lovebirds would like to be alone.” She tipped back her glass and swallowed the rest of her wine.

“All right. I get it.” Henry finished his and stood up, then pulled back Joan's stool. “You two have a great evening.” He winked then followed Joan to the door.

“Drink up,” Donovan said.

She stared at her glass, still three quarters full. “I really don't want anymore.”

“I said drink it.” His tone brooked no argument and, hating herself for it, she obeyed and lifted her glass.

She took a sip, then as his dark gaze bored through her, she tipped back the rest of the glass. Damn, why didn't she just say no and walk away? But there was something about him and his intimidating way. He hadn't started out this way. He used to be kind, generous, and thoughtful. But the more she got to know him, the more his dark side came out. And much as she hated it, when he used his controlling, authoritative tone, she fell into line. She barely even knew herself when she became like this. Letting a man control her.

She had to stop this. Anniversary or not, she had to put an end to this unhealthy relationship.

She drew in a deep breath, steeling her courage. “Donovan, I was going to wait until after our anniversary to do this but …”

She hesitated at the stormy look in his eyes, but then pushed herself to continue.

“This relationship isn't working for me. I'm just not the kind of woman you're looking for —”

“Shut up.” The hard words came out in a low tone that no one nearby would hear, but they rocked through her.

He pulled out his phone and texted something, then grabbed a roll of bills from his pocket and dropped two hundreds on the table. He grasped her upper arm and squeezed painfully, then stood up and guided her through the restaurant to the door.

She was having trouble keeping up with him in these ridiculously high heels and stumbled. Donovan jerked her back to her feet.

A nearby waiter paused. “Are you all right, ma'am?”

“She's fine,” Donovan answered for her. “She'd just had a little too much to drink.”

Her cheeks flushed, not wanting people to think she was drunk, but her red cheeks only added credence to his words.

The waiter nodded. “Well, good evening, sir. Ma'am.” Then he continued on his way.

When they stepped out the door, Donovan tugged her along with him down the sidewalk and through a glass door to the parking garage next to the bar. He jabbed the button for the elevator. Another couple was approaching so she didn't bring up their conversation again.

“We're not taking the limo?” she asked. Donovan had been drinking and the idea of getting into a car with him made her nervous.

“No, I brought the 'vette.”

She wanted to protest, but she knew it would do no good. In fact, the more she protested, the more likely he was to drive recklessly, just to scare her.

The other couple followed them into the elevator and they rode it down to P2. Donovan slid his arm around her waist and when the doors opened, he guided her forward. The door closed on the other couple behind them.

“Donovan, I know you're upset, but we need to talk about this.”

But he walked faster through the cavernous parking garage, her shoes clacking against the concrete floor. He held her elbow now and she raced to keep up with him, her feet aching in the high shoes, barely stopping herself from toppling over.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they kept on walking. Where there had been lots of cars parked near the elevator, as they continued, the empty parking spaces were more plentiful, until finally there were almost no cars around at all.

A quiver ran down her spine at how isolated she felt. Relieved, she saw his sleek, black, vintage Corvette parked ahead. Once in the car, she could talk. Even though she didn't want to be in the car while he was driving, at least he would have to listen. He might not like that she was breaking free of his control by breaking up with him, but what could he really do about it? He couldn't force her up to his apartment, and there's no way she was going with him of her free will.

She breathed a sigh of relief as they approached the car, but that relief was short lived as he turned suddenly and thrust her against a big, concrete post, knocking the wind from her. Her clutch purse fell from her hands and she instinctively went to pick it up, but he shoved her back again and slapped her hard across the face. She stared up at him, dazed, her cheek stinging.

“What the fuck are you thinking?” His dark eyes glinted in anger as he glared at her. “
You
don't end it with me. If and when we end this relationship, it will be because
I
decided to end it. When I'm tired of you.” His face jerked close to hers. “Do you understand?”

At his harsh, uncompromising tone, she found herself nodding. Her stomach twisted.

Oh, God, what am I doing? I can't let him get away with treating me like this.

But fear kept her from arguing with him. She was alone and isolated and she really didn't know what he would do if she didn't do as she was told.

He pulled her into an aggressive kiss, his tongue driving deep into her mouth. Her jaw ached as he forced it wide with his thrusts, then she felt his hand glide up her thigh. She pressed her hand against his chest to push him away. His fingers slid under her dress and stroked the crotch of her panties. Panic vaulted through her and she pushed against him.

Somehow she got her mouth free. “No.” But no matter how hard she pushed, she couldn't budge him. He was bigger and stronger than her and she felt totally helpless. She wanted to scream, but he thrust his body tighter against her, crushing her to the concrete pillar, then he grabbed her face and took her lips again. As his tongue drove inside her again, his fingers pulled at the elastic of her panties.

She shivered, knowing he was going to take her right here in the garage.

“I think the lady would like you to leave her alone.”

Donovan pulled his mouth away and glared at her, shriveling the budding idea she had to call to the other man for help. Without turning around, his gaze still locked with hers, he said sharply, “Get lost. This is none of your business.”

*  *  *

“I'm making it my business.”

It was all Wild Card could do not to grab the guy and pull him off her. As soon as he'd seen the guy practically drag the woman from the bar, he'd known there was trouble brewing. He'd followed them from the bar, then taken the stairs to catch up to them. As he'd been crossing the garage, he'd seen the guy slap her across the face. Now he had the obviously frightened woman pinned against a pillar and he was mauling her. Wild Card's heart pounded as protective instincts surged through him.

The guy finally turned. At six foot two, Wild Card knew he made an intimidating sight, especially with his leather jacket and studded riding gloves.

The other man straightened up, sizing up his opponent. “You don't get it. She loves this. Pretending to be taken in an alleyway or a parking garage, that gets her off. Especially if she can fight it.” He turned to her. “Right, sweetheart?”

She said nothing, and he laughed and stroked her cheek. “And she loves to play timid.”

Wild Card's hands clenched as the man turned back to face him.

“I don't believe you,” Wild Card said.

The guy's eyes narrowed as he stared at Wild Card, then he shrugged and smiled.

“Tell you what. I'll give you a thousand dollars to fuck her. Right here, right now.” He grinned. “And I remember seeing you in the bar with a bunch of friends. Why don't you call them in, too, and you can all have a go? A real gang bang.” He had a nasty glitter in his eye. “I know she would love that.”

“Really?” Wild Card raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, looking interested. “And what would you be doing?” he asked.

He turned back to the woman and his gaze glided down her body. “I'd just watch.”

Wild Card finally allowed the anger and contempt he felt to show on his face.

“Then why the fuck do we need you?”

He drew back his fist and slugged the sleazy face of the asshole, knocking him back against his shiny, sleek car, then he grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him back to his feet, and slugged him again. This time he left him in a heap on the ground.

He grabbed the woman's hand. “Come on.”

He drew her along, but she couldn't go fast in those heels, so he scooped her over his shoulder and carried her.

“No, please, just let me go.”

“And when asshole here wakes up, what do you think he'll do to you?”

Luckily, his bike wasn't parked too far away. He plopped her on the seat. It was better to have his passenger behind him, but he didn't want her jumping off at a light, so he had her in front. She was frightened and panicky and might do something stupid.

“Here, put this on.” He handed her his spare helmet.

“No, I—”

“Don't argue.” He pushed it onto her head and buckled it, then pulled on his and started up the bike.

He took off down the street. Fuck, he had no idea what he was going to do with this woman, but he knew that taking her to her home was the worst thing to do. Once that guy woke up, he'd probably go straight to find her and take out his anger on her.

There was only one thing he could do. He turned onto the highway and headed into the night. Laurie shivered as the bike sped along the highway.

First, Donovan had nearly raped her in the parking garage, then—God she still couldn't believe it—had offered her to a bunch of bikers to be gang raped. The biker had knocked Donavon out, and kidnapped her. Now he was probably taking her back to where his gang was to …

She choked back a sob, not wanting to think about what they'd do to her.

And idiot that she was, she almost felt protected within the confines of his strong arms. He'd seemed to show concern about what Donovan would do to her once he woke up, but she knew she was just looking for a knight in shining armor—or leather in this case—to save the day. But she had to rely on herself. Allowing a man any kind of control over her, even to save her, was a big mistake. It was a lesson she'd learned from Donovan that she would never forget.