He reached around me and unlocked the passenger door of his car, coming dangerously close to touching me. I stood still, afraid if I moved the air would crackle with the tension between us.
The car door protested with a loud whine as he opened it and waited for me to get in. I slid into the passenger seat, ready to put some space between us. But it was short-lived. The inside of the car smelled like him. Oh, god. And the memories … they had me sucking in a deep breath. Straddling him in the driver’s seat. His hands on my body, pinching and teasing, his fingers sliding into me. My mouth on him, licking the saltiness from his cock. His fingers in my hair, setting the pace as his hardness sank deeper into my mouth. Then moments later when his length pulsated halfway in me, waiting to tear past the last barrier I had.
I tried to focus on the cracked windshield instead of on Walker as he climbed into the driver’s seat. The gearshift sat between us. I remembered how it had felt, pressing into my stomach, as I lowered my mouth onto him. God, even that had the ability to make me perspire.
Walker turned the key in the ignition and wrapped his fingers around the stick. The car roared to life, rumbling loudly in the silence. Its engine sounded mean and dangerous. Just like its owner.
I pushed thoughts of us away and focused on why he had wakened me in the middle of the night.
“So what happened to Bentley?” I asked as the car pulled away from the curb. “I’m in the car now. Tell me.”
Walker rested his wrist on the steering wheel, his fingers relaxed. His other hand was wrapped around the gearshift. He threw it into second gear as we left the neighborhood behind and hit the main road.
“He got caught stealing,” Walker said flatly, his eyes on the road. “They have him for grand theft auto and resisting arrest.”
For one second, I was speechless. Just one.
“WHAT?” I sputtered. “Bentley?”
Walker glanced over at me before focusing back on the road. “Yep, your brother. Don’t act like he’s all innocent Sam. You know the crap he does.”
The fury I felt earlier when Walker stood in my room was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. Rage so strong I couldn’t control it ran through me, coming from somewhere in my middle and bursting outward. I tried to control it as much as possible. I breathed deeply. I tried to focus on one thing to calm me down. Nothing worked. Walker’s cold words only made it worse. I was sucking air through my lungs in great gulps but it felt like I was breathing through a straw. My vision narrowed. I’d never had an anxiety attack but I was afraid I was about to experience my first one.
“Pull over,” I said through clenched teeth, panic making it hard to breathe. Bentley’s in jail. Bentley’s in jail. The words replayed in my mind like a scratched record from the ‘70s. I stared straight ahead, spots of blackness at the edge of my vision. I can’t breathe.
I. Can’t. Breathe.
I clasped my hands tightly in my lap and dug my fingernails into the palms of my hand. I needed to feel the pain. It helped me focus. It took the ache inside me and made it physical.
“Stop,” I whispered, pressing harder with my fingernails. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Walker glance over at me.
“What? No,” he said firmly.
My fingernails sank deeper into my palm. The interior of the car became smaller, enclosing tightly around me. “Pull. Over.” I spit the words like they tasted bad. “Now.”
“Sam, I’m not pulling over—”
I grabbed the door handle and pulled. The door popped open, just enough to allow the wind to whistle through the opening as we sped along.
“Shit!” Walker swore, reaching across me and jerking the door closed. The car swirled to the right as he leaned, taking us toward a curb littered with trash and tall weeds.
He sat up and righted the car quickly. His hand brushed across my bare legs before he wrapped his fingers around the stick and downshifted. The engine slowed down, going from a loud roar to a quiet hum.
“What the hell are you thinking, Sam?” he yelled, easing the car over to the side of the road. “You trying to kill yourself?”
“No, but I need out!” I screamed back, jerking open the door again.
I didn’t notice the abandoned warehouses or the thriving strip club across the road. All I recognized was the fury and hysteria coursing through me.
I jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut, rocking it on its wheels. Stumbling to the sidewalk, I planted my hands on my knees and bent over, drawing in deep breaths of air. The feeling of oxygen entering my lungs left me reeling. My panic started to dissipate but the rage was still there, needing to escape.
A cool wind chose that moment to blow against me, making me shiver. It matched my emotions perfectly. Cold and bitter. Feeling better, I started pacing, bile rising in my throat. My brother is going to prison. Prison! Not as a juvenile but as an adult! He will be locked away forever! I rubbed a hand across my forehead, my anger building.
Walker got out of the car, leaving the driver’s door open and crossing with angry strides around the front of the car. His eyes were hard, full of rage.
And it was directed at me.
“What the hell is your problem?” he yelled, stalking over to where I paced. “You fucking know where we’re at?” He flung up his arms, encompassing our surroundings. “Pico Hills, the one area of town totally controlled by gangs. You don’t stop and take a walk along this road! Get back in the fuckin’ car, Sam! NOW!”
I took another deep breath of much-needed air and ignored Walker’s shouts. I continued pacing, trying to figure out when Bent became this person, this person I didn’t know. It was our fault! Ours! I cursed my dad for leaving and my mother for being a dope head and a whore. I cursed myself for being helpless as a child, unable to take care of my own basic needs. Bentley had to take on that responsibility at a young age, putting pressure on him that no child should have to know. Maybe if our family had been different, Bentley wouldn’t be facing a prison sentence right now.
But more than anything, I blamed Walker. From the moment he walked into our lives, nothing was ever the same again. It was always Bent and Walker. Getting drunk. Breaking the rules. Raising hell. It was Walker who introduced Bentley to a life of crime and easy money. He showed him how to steal cars. He taught him how to fight.
It was Walker who had turned my brother into what he’d become.
“ROSS!” Walker roared, trying to gain my attention.
I stopped and stared at him, a cracked, weed-controlled sidewalk separating us.
It was suddenly clear. Everything that led up to this moment - the moment Bentley sat in jail – it came back to one thing.
Walker.
Chapter Twenty–Six
-Sam-
I closed the small distance between us and stepped right up to Walker, bringing us toe to toe.
“You,” I spit with disgust, pointing my index finger at him. “Because of you, Bentley is sitting in jail right now.”
I saw Walker’s jaw flex, his gaze fixated on me with anger. “If it makes you feel any better, Sam, you can yell at me all you want, but I’m not to blame.”
I let out a high-pitched laugh. “You’re not to blame? You stole. You cheated. You broke every law you could as a kid and you showed Bentley how to do it! I watched you. Sometimes I was with you! So yeah, you’re to blame! You’re to blame for everything!”
Walker leaned toward me aggressively. “You really don’t know your brother very well do you? The guy is messed up in some heavy shit and I had nothing to do with it. Not this time.”
I shook my head, refusing to listen to him. I needed a scapegoat right now and Walker was it. I was still hurt that he had rejected me so smoothly days ago. And he hadn’t even bothered to lie in order to do it. Just an “I don’t like or love, only lust” excuse. Maybe that’s what this was all about – me wanting more from him - but I would rather think it was about Walker leading Bentley down a path of crime.
I stepped
closer and planted my index finger in the middle of Walker’s chest. “Because of his friendship with you, my brother learned how to break the law,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “He learned how to steal cars and race them illegally.” I shook my head again, disgusted and close to tears. “Bentley was never cut out for this life, Walker, but you pulled him under.”
Walker’s lips curved in a mocking smile. “Is that it? That’s all you’ve got? Come on, Sam. I know you can do better. Let me see that anger. It’s better than seeing you sad, and damn if it isn’t hot.”
I felt the fiery whip of rage, sinking into my skin at his taunting.
“Fine,” I snapped, taking a step closer until my body was almost against his. “You want more. How about this? Bentley and I were doing just fine, Walker, until you walked into our life. I was doing just fine until you touched me. Until you left me confused and wanting more.”
Walker went still, the smile disappearing from his face. “Is that what this is about?” he asked in a deathly quiet voice. “Me and you?”
I searched his eyes and drew a deep breath of courage, needing it like never before. “There is no ‘me and you,’ remember? Lust only,” I answered, throwing his words back at him.
He stared at me, his eyes callous. I wondered if I had gone too far. Seemed I did that a lot around Walker.
I started to take a step back and put some much-needed distance between us, but he reached out, his hand wrapping around my waist and hauling me back to him.
“Listen to me, Sam,” he said in a hoarse, raw tone. “I touched you. I put my fucking mouth on you. You’re mine, sweetheart. Love or no love.”
My heart stopped beating. I was sure of it. His jaw was rigid and his gaze was harsh, but his words…his words were earth shattering.
“Now…get back in the car,” he said, his gaze going to something behind me. He tried to push me toward the Duster with a hand on my hip but it wasn’t working. I wasn’t going to move willingly.
“I’m still pissed,” I said, jerking out of his grasp. “And I’m not yours…” My voice trailed away when I heard footsteps behind me.
“Shit!” Walker muttered under his breath, staring over my head at something.
I swung around, fright slipping beneath my skin to crawl along my nerve endings.
Three guys stood a few feet away. They were spread out, forming a semicircle around us. Each had on baggy pants that sat below their hips and belts with chains hanging off them. They wore wife-beater tank tops and red bandanas tied low around their foreheads, almost hiding their eyes. Hostility was on their faces, some more than others.
I took a step back, remembering where we were – the part of the city where gangs ruled and everyone else paid the consequences. If you didn’t follow the law here, your murder would be talked about on the five o’clock news, right after the weather and before sports. Just a statistic in a city overrun by crime and drugs.
And Walker and I may be the next victims.
One of the guys stepped forward, his beady eyes on me. He glanced down my body with interest, his gaze full of appreciation. “Whatcha doing here, chica? Ain’t your part of town, bebé,” he said in a thick Hispanic accent, his eyes running over me brazenly.
I started to answer, not afraid to stand up for myself, but Walker beat me to it.
“We were just leaving,” he said, letting go of my hip and stepping in front of me, giving the impression that he wasn’t going anywhere.
The leader rubbed the soul patch of hair on his chin and evaluated Walker with distrust. “You, mi amigo, están en una mala zona,” he said, jerking his chin up in a threatening manner.
I didn’t speak a lick of Spanish, but I knew whatever the guy had said couldn’t be good.
Walker stiffened, understanding the man’s words without a problem. Spanish came as easily to him as English did to me, thanks to his years on a construction crew and his illicit, crime-filled past.
“¿Sí, que un problema?” Walker said calmly, his Spanish impeccable.
The leader ignored Walker and glanced at me, leaning over some so he could see around Walker’s muscular body. “Hola, chica,” he said, smiling and wiggling his fingers in a small wave. “You are muy bonita.”
Walker didn’t move, but I was positive every hair on his body stood up. “Problema?” he asked again with contempt.
The smile slid from the leader’s face. His eyes flared, his nostrils doing the same. Like a dog sniffing out the enemy, he bristled, ready to attack.
“Sí, it’s a gran problema.” He gestured to his friends, standing on either side of us. “You see, my friends and I have no dinero and we want to see some tits and ass.” He jerked his chin across the street at the seedy strip club, a slippery smile making his thin lips even thinner. “And then you appear. I say that is convenient.” His steps were leisure as he strolled our way, his friends staying put and watching us.
Walker didn’t move a muscle, but I could feel the animosity rolling off him in waves. I had seen him take a grown man to the ground as a teenager. I knew he had something lurking inside him that could mangle and destroy. Question was - could he control it?
The leader stopped within arms’ reach of Walker. Bad decision.
“Pay up, esé,” he said, his eyes flicking over to me. “Unless she wants to show us some tits and ass right now.”
Walker’s hand shot out, grabbing the guy’s throat in one quick motion. His palm rested against the leader’s windpipe, ready to crush it at any second. With one yank, Walker hauled him closer, his fingers digging into the man’s neck.
I scrambled back, almost falling to the ground, as the leader’s minions sprung forward. My back hit the car as I frantically glanced around. They both had knives in their hands.
But Walker didn’t seem to care.
“Tell your friends to back off or I’ll only squeeze more,” Walker said, his voice like a death toll as he tightened his fingers around the leader’s throat.
The man struggled to breathe, his face turning red. But instead of looking afraid, he looked calm, almost peaceful. His mouth turned up in a freaky grin as he slowly raised his hand, signaling his men to stand down. Walker watched them, his hand ready to pulverize the leader’s windpipe.
“Now, listen, vato,” Walker said with a sneer. “You or any of your friends so much as breathes near her, your madres will be crying over your caskets. ” His eyes traveled to the other men, keeping them in place with a deadly look. “Got it?”
When the leader didn’t answer, Walker applied more pressure, causing the smile to disappear from the man’s face. Terror turned his eyes frantic. He couldn’t breathe, the color of his skin turning darker. He grabbled for Walker’s wrist, trying to pry his hand away, but Walker’s fingers only tightened, lifting the leader a quarter inch off the ground.
I started to panic. Walker is going to kill him! I was going to be an accomplice and he would be sitting in jail right next to Bentley, both of them leaving me for good. I prayed for the guy to give in. Just agree and go, I wanted to scream. Bentley was over-protective but I knew Walker would kill for me.
And that scared me like nothing else.
“Walker!” I shouted.
Walker didn’t turn around. His free hand snapped up, signaling me to stop. I did, meeting the eyes of the leader. Just when I thought he would pass out from lack of oxygen, he looked at Walker and nodded, giving in.
“Good,” Walker said with a calm voice, dropping his hand from the guy’s neck. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
He was so blasé about it that I started shaking but not from fear.
From anger.
The leader took a step back, away from his brush with death. He flexed his neck and rubbed his throat, his color returning as he stared at us.
“Get in the car, Sam,” Walker said over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the men.
As much as I wanted to punch him for playing the hero, he didn’t have to tell me twice. I raced for th
e open passenger door, diving inside. I had the door shut and locked in seconds.
But Walker was still standing outside.
What the hell is he doing? The other men were advancing toward him, the moonlight picking up a glint of the knives in their hands. The leader was talking to Walker, gesturing and smiling that shit-eating grin.
I rolled down my window, watching as they circled Walker.
“Let’s go!” I yelled, fear making my voice high-pitched. Forget about anger. I was scared to death. Walker was big and mean but he was outnumbered and out armed this time. “Walker!” I yelled again. “Come on!”
If he heard me, he didn’t let on.
My heart was close to bursting. The men were almost on him. All it would take was one punch and they would have him down.
I looked around the car, frantic to find something to use as a weapon. There was nothing but the floor mats and an empty fast food cup. I flipped open the glove box, finding only some papers. Oh, god. Oh, god. What do I do? My gaze landed on the steering wheel. Thank god Walker had been smart enough to leave the car running, an old habit from his criminal days. Maybe there is a way to get out of here alive. Without thinking twice, I unlocked the passenger door and flung it open again.
“COLE!” I screamed, leaning out enough so he could hear me. He didn’t look my way but I saw his head turn slightly, his eyes on the men.
That’s all I needed. I left my car door open and crawled across the console and gearshift just as the men rushed Walker. I heard thuds and grunts as I plopped down into the driver’s seat but I stayed focus on doing the only thing I knew to do.
Survive.
With the heel of my hand and my heart thumping out of control, I laid on the horn, blasting the night with a piercing sound. It was the only way I knew to get help.
Some patrons walking into the strip club turned to look at us but they didn’t move. Just stood there and stared like a bunch of morons. I rolled down the driver’s side window as fast as I could. “HELP!” I screamed, cursing them for being bumps on a log. It didn’t matter. They turned and walked away, taking their grand ‘ole time entering the club.