Driven by Desire Page 14

  “Yes, that and most others in town,” he acknowledged, watching her carefully. “I don't like competition.”

  She nodded absently. “Will you be gone long?”

  “I don't know,” he said, rubbing a hand over his short hair. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to stay here.”

  She shrugged. “No problem, it’s a big place, I’m sure there’s lots to do. I’ll go for a swim in the pool or watch TV or something. But I do need to get back to my shop eventually, Soloman. Maybe we can discuss it when you get back… and why are you looking at me like that?”

  His frown had turned fierce, his eyes cold in a way she hadn’t seen in days. “You won’t be going back to the shop any time soon, Riley. And I meant you’ll be staying here, in the bedroom.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped, stepping toward him. “I can’t stay in here. As nice as your bedroom is, there’s nothing to do. You don’t even know how long you’ll be. You can’t just lock me in the bedroom every time you leave the damn house!”

  “Nonetheless,” he said, taking her by the arms and swinging her around. He walked her backwards until her ass hit the bed. “You will be a good girl and wait for me here in our bedroom, where I know you won’t get into trouble.”

  “Fuck you!” she yelled, losing her temper. She tried to shove him away from her, but he was like a brick wall. He didn’t even flinch when her hands slapped against his solid chest.

  He picked her up by the waist and tossed her in the middle of the bed, where she landed with a bounce. He grunted in pleasure at the sight of her tits bouncing with her. She rolled onto her hands and knees and glared fireballs at him. Her hair came loose from its messy knot and fell in thick waves around her shoulders.

  “I would do exactly that and show you just how much control I have over you right now, Riley. But unfortunately, I don't have time.” He turned and strode toward the door.

  She called his name just as he reached the threshold. He looked back at her and waited for her to speak. She glared at him and said, “It would seem from this whole ‘bang, bang, mine, mine’ routine you have going on here with me that you want some kind of relationship, correct?”

  He growled at her, clearly not amused by her word choice. But he raised a brow and remained standing in the doorway, waiting with as much patience as she assumed he was capable of. She raised up on the bed on her knees, heedless of her nakedness. His eyes flickered over her bare body, a pained expression entering his eyes. He did not want to leave her to take care of the emergency at his club.

  “Locking me up isn’t a good way to start building trust, Soloman,” she deliberately said his name with a slight purr, the way she knew he liked it. “You want me to want to be here with you, right?”

  His gaze pinned her to the bed, licking over her body. He gave her a sharp nod.

  “Then you have to start earning that respect from me by giving me a little freedom. You have security around this place I assume? Where am I gonna go? Just give me the run of the house. Please, Soloman.”

  She thought maybe he was going to listen. Her heart sped up in anticipation. Was it possible that this hard man was willing to grant her a little freedom. If he was, then maybe she could consider a possible future with him. Maybe he wasn't as unyielding as she thought.

  “Both doors lock from the outside, Riley. Don’t bother trying to leave the bedroom,” he said, his voice held no warmth as he spoke.

  “Underestimate me again, fucker,” she snarled from between gritted teeth as the door closed behind him. She hurled a pillow at it as the lock engaged. “That’s how I stole your fucking car in the first place!”

  Two hours later she was wearing another one of his shirts and roaring up the beach on a stolen motorcycle. She ginned under the black helmet. She’d never ridden a Ducati XDiavel S before. She’d’ve pegged Soloman as more of an old school Harley kind of guy. But hey, she wasn’t going to complain. She needed the kind speed only a crotch rocket could provide to put some distance between her and the kind of hell that would fall on her head once Soloman found out she was gone.

  She knew better than to try to go through the gates of his private estate. Security would stop her in about two heartbeats and then there would be hell to pay when Soloman got home. There was going to be hell to pay anyway, but at least she got out for a joyride and was going to check on her shop.

  Thank god for Katie and her supreme patience in teaching Riley everything she knew about breaking out of impossible to escape places. Riley’s dad had taught her how to steal cars and Katie had taught her the fine art of breaking and entering. Between her two favourite mentors, Riley was unstoppable. Or unlockupable anyway. She grinned from beneath her helmet and enjoyed the feel of Soloman’s fine ass Ducati as it purred like a kitty between her thighs.

  Riley decided to go to her hideaway garage instead of her condo in case security had already informed Soloman of her departure. They would likely check her condo first. Once she exited the beach through one of the other private properties, she took as many back roads as she could, avoiding main thoroughfares. Dressed as she was, a half-naked curvaceous chick on a bike, she drew attention.

  First thing she did was pull on some underwear, a pair of torn up black skinny jeans and a low-cut camo tank top. Knowing she wouldn't have much time before her badass mafioso boyfriend came looking for her, she went flying back out of the garage, hitting the door code on her way out. She was in the process of lifting her leg over the bike when she found herself seized in a vice-like grip and lifted off the motorcycle.

  Riley shrieked and began clawing at the arm around her belly. She swung her head sideways and saw a familiar ghoulish grinning face. The fight drained out of her. The anger did not.

  "Shank, you fucking asshole!" she yelled, gasping to catch the breath he had scared out of her while attempting to shove an elbow against his chest and gain some distance. "How the fuck did you find this place?"

  "Followed you here a couple weeks back," he said easily, pulling her hips into what could only be an erection.

  "Fuck. Off,” she snarled. "And take your hands off of me right this instant."

  He finally lifted his hands. She whirled around and backed up into the bike. She only got another foot of space, but it was enough to give her some breathing room. God, the guy was such a prick!

  His gaze roamed appreciatively over her. "Been doing what you asked me to, angel. You like the results so far? Think I've been pissing off the big man, yeah?"

  A flash of guilt shot through her. Both at the trouble she caused Soloman and for dragging Shank into her mess. Something that could be extremely dangerous for his health. It was time to call her crazy dog off.

  "Yeah, Shank, you've done great," she agreed with a strained smile.

  She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. It was something she intended to put in the float at the shop to keep the guys going when Soloman put her back on lockdown, but this would be a better use for it. She pressed it into his hand. He looked down at it with a frown.

  "It's time to stop now, though."

  He pushed the bills back at her and shook his head. “No, angel baby, I say when it's time to stop. I don't want your money. Never did. I'll take my payment when I’m ready."

  She moistened her lips and tried again. “Please, Shank, I'm afraid it's getting too dangerous for you. What if he finds out? He'll kill you. Fuck, man, he'll probably kill us both. Please, just take the money and head back home."

  He looked down into her earnest features. She could see him softening and knew her little lie was working. Solomon would never truly harm a hair on her head, even if he found out she was the cause of his mischief, but she needed Shank to crawl back into the hole he came from.

  She studied the two teardrops beneath Shanks eye and wondered who he'd killed to earn those. A shudder rippled through her frame and she turned away from him. How many teardrops would Soloman have? He would pro
bably need a bucket tattooed across his face.

  That stark reminder of who she was in the process of pissing off with her disappearing act sobered her up. Once again she pressed the money into his hand. This time his fingers curled around the money and the fragile bones of her hand, pressing a little too hard for a moment before pulling away with the money.

  Finally, he nodded. "If that's what you want, angel."

  Relief flooded her and she flashed him a quick grin. She turned around and reached for the bike. Lifting her leg, she swung it over. She turned the key and stepped down on the kick start.

  Before she could take off, Shank grabbed her from behind again. She was half expecting it this time, so instead of reacting with anger she just sat stiffly in his arms. He pressed his lips against her ear as he brought a knife up to her face. Her eyes flashed in fear.

  "Until next time, my sweet angel," he murmured.

  He slid he blade through her hair, taking a section of it with him. She stared around in consternation as he jumped off the back of her bike, kissed the long, dark lock of hair and shoved it into his pocket.

  What a freak, she thought, shaking her head. She jammed Soloman's helmet over her head and took off before Shank could do anything else weird.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Fury and pride ripped through Soloman as he stalked out of the mess that had once been Merchant's beautifully furnished lobby entrance. Now, instead of dealing with this shit, as the boss should, he would have to go find his own personal Houdini woman and explain to her exactly what he meant by stay in the fucking bedroom. Goddamn was she ever a handful. And she'd stolen another fucking vehicle.

  He threw his cigarillo into the gutter and flung open the door to Roman's '69 Mustang. Soloman was starting to to run out of his own cars. Without being asked, Roman drove like a demon, running lights to get them to Riley’s garage. Their guy had spotted her pulling his bike into the lot thirty minutes earlier. Soloman already had three men sitting on the shop ensuring her safety. And making sure she didn’t pull another disappearing act on him before he could get his hands on her.

  “Gonna mess her up?” Roman grunted from the driver’s seat.

  Soloman turned his face slowly to look at his right-hand man. Roman’s jaw was knotted with tension, the old gang tattoos rippling down the cords of his throat. He knew he was overstepping with the boss, but he chose to ask the question anyway. Roman had a pretty fucked up moral compass when it came to everyone in the world except one particular blond. And now, apparently, the woman that was fiercely loyal to Katie Pullman had wormed her way into his affections.

  Soloman studied him for a moment, wondering if this was going to be a problem. He couldn’t have a man unwilling to pull the trigger, no matter who the gun was pointed at. Then again, that gun would never turn on Riley and he knew it would tear her heart out if he ever gave the order to take out her friends. So, he didn’t think there would be a problem.

  “That woman has disobeyed me at every turn, stolen at least two of my vehicles and I’m guessing is instrumental in turning my Audi to ash,” he responded quietly. “Have I harmed her yet?”

  Roman’s eyes met his for a second before turning back to the road. A flicker of relief had passed through them. “I’m fucking pissed that I have to chase this woman all over a city we both know I own, but I’m not going to mess up my future wife. I want her the way she is,” he growled, tapping his fingers impatiently against the windowsill as they pulled up to Riley’s garage. He reached for the door. “Maybe just a little less goddamned headstrong.”

  An uneasy hush fell over the garage when Roman and Soloman stepped through the shadows of the doorway. Something metal hit the concrete floor and an engine being quickly shut off were the only sounds that could be heard throughout the large area. Soloman’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the space. He didn’t see her. She was either in her office or she was hiding out in the bowels of the building where they kept the stolen vehicles. It wasn’t like her to hide.

  “Close the doors and get out,” he barked.

  The harsh words had every man dropping their work and moving for the exit. As loyal as they were to Riley Bancroft, they valued life too much to cross Soloman Hart for the sake of a job. Within seconds, there was no one left but the two tall, sinister men waiting on the owner to show herself. Silence reigned.

  Without turning to face his man, Soloman said, “Go and keep an eye on things outside. They won’t leave her for long. She inspires loyalty in dickless idiots.”

  Roman grunted, turned on his heel and slammed out the door. Seconds later, Riley emerged from the depths of the building with a frown on her face. Wendell Pullman was only a few steps behind her. He was scowling in an attempt to cover his fear.

  She crossed her arms over breasts chilled by the shadowy interior of the garage. He watched her every movement with a predatory glint. “I thought it might be you causing havoc in my shop,” she said, her voice a husky shiver of apprehension.

  “And yet you still chose to run from me,” he gritted out, anger sizzling through his veins. His dick pressed hard against the front of his suit pants. He did nothing to hide his sizeable erection. He’d discarded his suit jacket and tie in the back of Roman’s car already, knowing exactly how he would want Riley once he found her.

  She shrugged lightly. “Lock me up like an animal and you better believe I’ll find a way to escape my cage.”

  The negligent way she spoke to him, as though his words, his fucking orders, meant nothing to her, made him see red. Worse, she spoke back to him in front of someone. An outsider. That someone was taking a protective step closer to Soloman’s woman.

  “Next time I use chains, little girl,” he snarled, stabbing his middle finger at her. “Let’s see if you can turn yourself loose if you're chained to me or my goddamned bed at all times.”

  “You’re a fucking lunatic!” she yelled back at him, finally losing her cool and lunging toward him. Wendell caught her arm as if to remind her of exactly who she was freaking out at.

  Soloman’s dark gaze zeroed in on Wendell who must have sensed the imminent danger. He dropped his hand as though it were about to be ripped off.

  “Get the fuck out. Now.” Soloman’s deep voice held such quiet menace that only the incredibly brave would’ve disobeyed.

  Wendell’s feet immediately shuffled toward the exit, but he glanced desperately at Riley as though he wanted to grab hold of her and drag her out with him. He wouldn’t have made it two steps before he died an incredibly quick and gruesome death. She put a soft hand on his arm and gave him a quick, negative shake of her head, urging him to leave quickly.

  “Take. Your. Fucking. Hand. Off. Now.” Soloman gritted out with incredible patience that he was not known for. He was navigating new territory with this woman and he didn't enjoy it. A small, dark part of him questioned if he would have been better off just killing her all those weeks ago as he’d originally planned. Of course, he now knew it would have be like cutting out his own heart.

  Riley dropped her hand and watched with undisguised longing as her last champion left her alone and unprotected with the most evil man in the city. A man determined to own her until she bowed down and broke beneath him. When the door closed behind Wendell, she turned and faced Soloman, glaring at him with flashing velvet eyes. Her hands were fisted angrily at her sides.

  “Come here,” Soloman commanded quietly.

  She ignored him, standing her ground.

  He raised an eyebrow. “If I have to come over there, I promise little girl, I will put you on your knees and break that mouth in. And I won't be gentle.”

  “Fuck you,” she spat, “since when have you been gentle?”

  He didn’t give her any more chances. Stalking toward her, he reached out and took her arm in a brutal hold as she tried to stumble away from him. She cried out when he shook her and snarled into her face, “I have been more lenient with you than any other. No more, Riley.”

  She broug
ht her hands up, but he shoved them down, heedless of the delicate bones he might be bruising. He took her tank top and bra in one hand and ruthlessly yanked them down below her breasts, stretching the material to accommodate her cleavage. He let go and allowed the underwire and elasticized top to push the gorgeous globes up. She gasped and squirmed in his hold.

  “Soloman…” she cried out.

  Ignoring her, he bent his head and clamped his teeth over one already hard, succulent rose-coloured nipple. He sucked hard on the peak until she was begging him breathlessly to ease up. He wrapped a thick arm around her waist and clamped her hard against his rock-hard erection before moving to pay attention to her other breast. While sucking and biting it into turgid awareness, he fingered and squeezed the wet nipple of her other breast until she was practically crying in his arms. She alternately begged him to stop while at the same time clamping her arms around his neck and holding him hard against her and arching her back, thrusting her breasts toward his hot, torturous mouth.

  “Oh fuck, oh god, I think I’m go… going to come just from this,” she moaned in garbled surprise.

  He let go of her breasts and pushed her slightly away from him. “No, gorgeous,” he said with a cruel smile. “Bad girls don’t get to come.”

  She stared up at him, a cloudy frown on her beautiful face. As the dreaminess began to clear and anger set in, she reached for her bra. He slapped her hand away, catching her nipple in the process. She gasped and flushed at the small bite of pain. She tried reaching for her shirt again and he deliberately slapped her other breast, flicking her nipple. She cried out sharply and thrust her breasts out involuntarily.

  Her eyes popped open and she stared up at him in horror. They both knew she had just given him something very special. A piece of herself. Something she shouldn't have given. Something he could and would use against her. She enjoyed pain with her pleasure. Fuck, she was too perfect.

  “On your knees,” he demanded, steel underlying his words.