Wicked Ride Page 10

  Hell, I've never been camping before.

  Or fishing.

  Or had oral sex outdoors for the entire world to see.

  My face should be burning hot right now for that last one, because I've become the type of woman who Auralie Foster just doesn't recognize anymore. That's not to say it's a bad thing... these changes or perhaps they're awakenings in my sexuality. I'm also powerless to fight these newfound desires because Logan blows through me like the force of a hurricane, completely overwhelming me and battering down what faint resistance I try to keep toward him.

  He's getting harder to resist, and I'm extremely worried about tonight when we're alone. The more time I spend with him, the more I want to ditch my responsibilities.

  Will I have the power to say no to something more? Or worse yet... will I beg for him to give me something more, despite how careless that would be of me?

  My phone rings from where I left it on the dresser in my room, so I scurry across the hall from the bathroom to grab it. I see Magnus' name on the screen briefly before my finger is "accepting" the call. I've been a bit worried he hasn't called me to let me know when he's coming back, and while I seriously doubt it's today, because that would have given him mere hours to handle whatever problem my dad caused, I can't rule that out either. The man is completely unpredictable.

  "Hello Magnus," I say with what I hope is a pleasant tone to my voice.

  Why I'm worried about being pleasant is beyond me, as I've made no bones about the fact I despise him? Maybe it's subconscious guilt that I'm carrying on with a man who could ruin all of our plans, or maybe it's merely because I'm feeling so great after an amazing few hours with Logan and one tremendous orgasm.

  "What did you do today?" he asks in an equally cordial tone.

  I never once consider telling him the truth because he doesn't deserve it. "Stayed around the cabin. Read a book. Watched some TV. Took a nap. The usual lazy stuff. When are you coming back?"

  He's silent a moment before he says, "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe day after. Not sure."

  I grit my teeth. He's doing that on purpose to keep me off balance and ensure I'm a good girl, not knowing if he'll catch me doing something that will void his obligation to me to keep my dad free from harm.

  Sadistic prick.

  "Okay," I say like I'm nonplussed. "Just let me know when your flight will be in and I'll pick you up. Now, I just got out of the shower and I'm dripping everywhere so I'll talk to you later."

  "You're going to The Silo tonight," he says briskly, not biting at my push to get him off the phone because I just can't stand to hear his sanctimonious voice.

  "What?" I ask in disbelief.

  "I want you to make an appearance tonight. Don't want the potential customers getting cold feet or forgetting how hot the little prize is."

  "And what exactly do you want me to do there?" I ask through gritted teeth, not making any pretext I don't like this plan. I don't like it because it interferes with my normal plans. It also puts me in danger of another man touching me, which I don't want anyone to do but Logan.

  "The usual... pick someone new and give him a blow job. Make it nice. Put on a show," he says as if he's talking about an ordinary day of business.

  "Any particular preference as to who I should pick?" I ask sarcastically.

  It goes right over his head. "Not really. Just someone new who hasn't touched you. Put on a show and make it good, then we'll concentrate on the few people I've narrowed it down to when I return."

  God, I hate him.

  Hate him, hate him, hate him.

  My brain immediately starts whirring, trying to come up with something that will get me out of this. He'll never buy another illness. Perhaps I can just make up something--

  "And Auralie?" He breaks into my manic thoughts.

  "Yes?"

  "I want proof. Have someone take a picture and text it to me," he says, and I can hear the triumph in his voice.

  I take a deep breath, fight off the overwhelming urge to hyperventilate, and try to ask my next question as subserviently as possible. "Is my dad okay?"

  "He's fine," he says crisply. "For the time being anyway."

  "Anything else?" I ask, my voice hoarse with fury because I'm rising to his bait.

  "That will be all," he says pleasantly. "I'll see you soon."

  He disconnects the call on me, and I have to resist the urge to throw my phone across the room. I also resist the urge to call my father and curse at him for getting us in this mess. For even stepping foot into Magnus Albright's world all those years ago, and dragging me right along with him.

  And I was almost free of it all. I told my father I was out. I told Magnus I was out. I would have told Gus I was out if Gus was still in the game, but no one had seen hide or hair of him in three months, and this scared the shit out of me because he had been working for Magnus. The word on the street was he double-crossed Magnus and poof--he was just gone.

  It's why I wanted out. The further you got sucked in, the bigger the con, the more chance of getting caught. Magnus didn't like mistakes, and he was brutal in his reinforcement of said dislike. I was afraid I'd one day just poof--be gone--if I messed up.

  Two months ago, I was almost out.

  Until I wasn't.

  "Dad," I called out as I pushed open our apartment door, my head bowed down over the mail I'd picked up from our mailbox in the dingy, poorly lit lobby of our building. "I'm home."

  "So I can see," someone who was not my dad said.

  My head popped up, my eyes immediately narrowing on Magnus sitting on our couch, one leg elegantly crossed over another. He had on his classic, dark-tailored suit and his dishwater-blond hair gelled over to the side.

  My eyes immediately took in other people in our small living room, and my eyes snapped to my father sitting in his old, ratty recliner. I looked just like him... black hair and crystal blue eyes, except the main difference I saw now was that he was sporting a split lip and a black eye. One of Magnus' goons stood behind my dad, and he actually popped his knuckles as he leered at me.

  "Are you okay?" I asked my dad.

  "Yeah," he mumbled. "Apparently, I've fucked up though."

  My eye roll said everything, directing my silent question to Magnus with raised eyebrows. What now?

  Magnus shifted on the couch, laying one arm across the back as he looked at me with a smile. "Seems your dad was skimming the top off my cream."

  My stomach lurched.

  My dad tried to stand up from the recliner as he proclaimed his innocence. "I wasn't, Magnus. I swear it. My bookkeeping just got a little out of whack."

  The big goon put a hand to Dad's shoulder and shoved him back down in this chair.

  Goddamn, Dad, I thought.

  There was no doubt in my mind that it wasn't a simple math screw up. My dad was a wizard at juggling a dozen different cons and keeping the money straight. He had been doing it for years for Magnus and hadn't ever made a mistake. No, he took that money intentionally and I knew why.

  So I could pay tuition when I enrolled in a community college this week.

  "How much?" I asked Magnus, because if this wasn't made right and done soon, Magnus was going to do far worse to my dad than a split lip and a black eye. "I'll get it for you."

  "You're darn right you will," Magnus said irritably. "And I've got the perfect con that will net us a small fortune. It'll more than cover your dad's obligation to me, plus a 'reasonable' penalty for his shoddy bookwork. There will even be a little bonus for you. More than enough to help you with some college."

  "I don't want any of the money," I growled, not even bothering to get the details on the con he wanted me to help him with. "I said I'm out. I'm only doing this one job, and then I'm done. But I want your promise right now if I do this, you'll leave my dad alone and he'll be safe."

  Magnus smiled an evil smile at me, and I should have taken that as a hint of what was to come.

  I should have bothered with the detail
s of the con before I committed, because I would have never agreed to this if I'd known how low I'd have to stoop to pull it off.

  Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I would have done anything to protect my dad. He may have been a wayward man, and he may have raised me on the hustle, but he provided a roof over my head and more love than I could handle when my mom died, even foregoing his own grief to make sure I was as happy as possible.

  Yeah... this con isn't a choice for me. My dad's life depends on it, and so I'll see it through to the end.

  ***

  Logan knocks again on the cabin door. I shuffle with dread toward it as I know without a doubt he's not going to like what I need to tell him. Hell, I'm not going to like it either, but I need to pull my big-girl panties up and focus back on the end game.

  When I swing the door open, Logan almost takes my breath away. He'd recently showered as his hair is still damp along his neckline, and whatever soap he uses smells crisp and fresh. He's wearing his usual "Logan" clothes of jeans and a casual shirt--this time plaid flannel with sleeves rolled to mid-forearm--along with a pair of camel-colored hiking boots.

  And he stands there in the sexiest of poses with one hand holding onto the doorframe and the other shoved in his pocket. He's big and looming, and his eyes sparkle with excitement to see me.

  Then they drift down, taking in what I'm wearing, and his jaw goes rock hard.

  For you see, I'm wearing what I'm thinking of as my "Auralie Virgin" clothes. Tonight's ensemble is a floaty white skirt with lace edges that comes down to my ankles, along with a sky-blue blouse that sits demurely at my shoulders and cinches at my waist with a chiffon belt. My hair is tousled and then wrapped in a loose bun I'm wearing at the side of my neck with a few wispy tendrils pulled lose.

  I have no makeup on other than a little lip gloss, and I can read the thunderous expression in Logan's eyes without him needing to say a word to me. You are not fucking going to The Silo tonight!

  "I have to," I say flatly, choosing to use words because communicating with my eyes is too personal. I have to figure a way to build a barrier up between us.

  I turn and walk back into the cabin, heading into the kitchen to get my purse off the counter where I'd left it earlier today after Logan dropped me off from the fishing trip.

  "Absolutely not," Logan says from behind me.

  Close behind me.

  I spin on him. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do."

  He's so close he runs right into me, his hands going to my arms to hold me upright so I don't go crashing to the ground. But he uses my momentum to his advantage, walking me backward into the kitchen and right into the refrigerator, which sways backward a few inches before righting itself.

  "You are not going there by yourself--"

  "Fine," I snap at him, because I'm feeling every bit of frustration that he is. "You can come and watch then."

  "Jesus fucking Christ," he yells as he releases me, spins away, and places his hands on top of his head. He looks upward to the ceiling as if it has all the answers, and then my heart breaks a little when he turns to face me with pleading eyes. "No, Auralie. Tell him you're sick again. I can't bear to watch you--you--"

  "I know," I say softly as I push off from the fridge and walk to him. I lay a hand on his chest, feel the wild gallop his heart, and try to make this easier on him. "I don't want that either, but Magnus will never accept my excuse of being sick. You have to know I don't want to do this."

  "Then don't go," he says as his hand comes to mine, and I can't handle how lost he sounds at this moment. This man and me... we've known each other barely a week, and yet something has forged tight between us. It's my fault for letting it bloom and develop, and I should have never let him get this deep with me.

  I thought I was safe though, because while I'm holding much back from Logan, he's doing the same to me. We may have a connection, but we really don't truly know each other. Not the bad stuff anyway.

  I pull my hand away and take a step back. With a firm voice, I tell him, "Logan... I don't want to do this, but trust me when I say I have to go through with this. I literally don't have a choice in this matter--"

  "How do you know?" he interjects with his arms thrown out to the side. "How do you know unless you let me in on--?"

  "I've involved you too much as it is," I tell him with quiet confidence because this is a truth beyond all truths. "I should have never let it go this far. But you are going to have to let me go and let me do what I have to do. As I said, there's no choice and you're just going to have to accept that."

  "Fuck," he mutters and scrubs his hands through his hair again, his eyes cutting across the kitchen... not really looking at anything but clearly trying to think of something.

  Anything.

  He spins on me. "What does Magnus want you to do tonight?"

  I shrug. "A show. He wants me to put on a show."

  "Then I'll--"

  "He said it has to be with someone new," I cut him off, watching his face crumble. My voice quavers a bit. "Said he wants picture proof."

  "Goddamn, I want to kick that motherfucker's ass," Logan growls, but his eyes look at me with grim determination. "But I have an idea. Go upstairs and change out of that shit."

  "But--"

  "Just do it," Logan barks at me, and if it weren't for the frustration and almost near panic in his voice, I'd balk at someone talking to me like that.

  But I don't hesitate because if Logan has an idea that will save me from having to put another man's dick in my mouth, and still let me put on a show for Magnus' liking, then I'm all for it. I turn around and scramble toward the staircase, mentally putting together a new wardrobe outfit.

  Chapter 13

  Logan

  Jealous.

  I'm goddamned jealous.

  An emotion I don't have in me.

  Fuck... I never even got jealous if another man looked at Donna in an unseemly manner. I was such a cocky, egotistical son of a bitch in those days that it never once crossed my mind I should be jealous. That Donna might look back. I mean, she never did. Not that I know of, but still... I never once even had the humble grace to think a woman would want anyone else but me.

  And now, here I am about ready to commit violence at the thought of Auralie even walking in that Silo. Forget about her sucking strange cock... I don't even want those fuckers to have their eyes on her.

  That's how fucking green this jealousy is.

  And I don't have any good way out of this if Auralie truly believes she has to go through with it. She doesn't need to convince me how distasteful this is. I see it in her eyes and the way she nervously fidgets beside me in my truck as we head to The Silo. I could also hear it in her tone of voice, how very sorry she was to be doing this to me. I read it loud and clear in her expression that this was an emotionless job she had to do and she was by God going to do it, despite how badly it might make either one of us feel. Whatever her obligation is, it's something that runs deeper than whatever feelings she might have developed for me, and goddamn fuck it all to hell... even that makes me jealous.

  But I do have something of an idea that might alleviate a bit of stress off Auralie, and possibly off me. It's not optimal, but I think it's something I could live with.

  I think.

  Maybe.

  Fuck... I don't know.

  ***

  "You want me to do what?" Bridger asks, his eyebrows practically crawling onto the top of his head.

  "I want you to let Auralie suck your dick," I say again, my eyes cutting to the office door where Bridger sits behind his desk. I left Auralie out in the hallway, preferring to lay this shit out to Bridger in private.

  "Has the bright sun reflecting off the Snake River baked your fucking brain?" he asks me with narrowed eyes.

  I disregard his snarky tone and pin him with a glare. If he's as adept at reading me as Auralie is, he'll understand I'll kick his motherfucking ass if he doesn't stop fucking with me

  But st
ill, I guess I owe the dude some context.

  Taking a deep breath, I let it out and say, "Okay. Hear me out. You see... I've been seeing Auralie--"

  "Dude, if you popped that cherry, you've probably put her in danger," Bridger cuts in darkly. "That Magnus asshole is bad news."

  I shake my head and hold my hand up. "I didn't have sex with her. Well, no penetration, but we've... well... we've been fooling around."

  Bridger leans back in his chair, crosses his arms over his chest, and skeptically cocks an eyebrow at me.

  "Okay, fine," I grumble. "We've been spending time together, and we have this... I don't know... there's a connection that I can't explain. I've never felt it with anyone, and so I'm intrigued by it, but it also scares the fuck out of me, you know--"

  I don't give him an opportunity to even nod in agreement with me.

  "--but the thing is, she's got herself into some bad shit. She does not want to be involved in this... whatever the fuck this is with Magnus selling off her virginity. She sure as fuck doesn't want to be sucking other men's cocks or parading around naked like Magnus' little pet. And man, Bridger... that selling off your virginity... that's fucked up. Giving that up should be special, to someone who cares about you... not some fucking high bidder."

  "Someone like you," Bridger says with a knowing grin.

  "Exactly," I say from more of a reactionary place rather than from within the boundaries of reality. So I start to backpedal. "Well, no... that's not what I'm saying. I mean, yeah... if she wanted to gift that to me, sure... but it shouldn't be in some seedy sex club."

  Bridger's face darkens.

  "Sorry," I mutter. "Your place isn't seedy, and you know I love it."

  "Really?" he says sarcastically. "Because I haven't seen you fuck someone in here in almost a full week."

  "That's beside the point," I snap at him.

  "No," Bridger says calmly. "That's the exact point. I think what you're trying to say is that Auralie's in a bad spot, she can't get out of it, you care for her, and you need some help tonight."