RIDING DIRTY (Steel Titans MC Book 4) by Franca Storm (best books for students to read txt) 📗

“It ain’t over yet.”

Was he serious? Did he really not know when to quit? I’d known he was a stubborn ass, but this was something else. He was incredibly tied to completing this hit. I knew first-hand, his history with Nolan, but Slade’s reaction here was overkill for the situation.

What was I missing then? Where was this hot rage really sourced?

Whatever the deal was, I needed to ram it home to him either way. “You’re still tied to Steel Titans at the moment. Why would you do this now?”

“The guy’s got a long list of enemies. It would’ve taken a while to point to me. I’d made damn sure there weren’t no surveillance footage on me the entire time I was inside that shithole nightclub of his. Don’t gotta worry about witnesses in that kind of place, because the patrons are all hopped up on something and fucked beyond belief. That’s his clientele through and through. And the staff? Nolan abuses them and treats them like shit. They wouldn’t stick their necks out to help track down his killer. Hell, they’d welcome his death. Plus, I had a cleanup crew on standby for when I ended him, a favor owed to me. Wouldn’t be no evidence there neither after they’d done with their job. I can’t be walking while he’s alive. He ain’t gonna let it be. So, it’s gotta be now.”

Well, that was all very… comprehensive.

My surprise must have shown on my face, because he smirked and said, “You really don’t think much of me, do you, darlin'?”

“I don’t like rogue elements.”

“Yeah, I got that loud and clear the first time we met.”

I grinned. “Well, you should also know that I never would’ve even taken another meeting with you, years after you screwed me over, if I didn’t think a lot of you.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “That right?”

“Yeah, it is,” I confirmed, as I strolled over to my bar in the corner and snatched up the bottle of scotch. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.

I walked back to him and offered the bottle. “I respect you.”

He grasped the bottle, our fingers colliding during the handover.

Our gazes locked.

Heat flared in his eyes.

I knew he was seeing the same in mine.

The man had a hell of an allure about him.

A dark allure.

And I was most at home in the dark. It was where I lived, where I thrived.

Slade blinked hard and eased the bottle from my grip, breaking the charged moment between us. He took a couple of swigs, not even flinching as he gulped it down. “Why’d you help me out back there?”

“I told you during our meeting that we can’t both be acting at the same time. Not when it comes to dropping bodies.”

“So, you were saving your own ass?”

“I was saving both our asses.”

He shrugged. “Well, you still got it. I saw some major skilled combat from you tonight. And the Tranqs, jeez, I forgot how much you actually hate mess.”

“Unforeseen mess complicates things to an exponential degree.”

“The blade’s still there. Got my prints all over it. I gotta call my people in.”

“No need to waste favors. That’s already being taken care of. One of my ghosts is seeing to it.”

He whistled. “Damn.”

“I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said, slumping down into one of my armchairs.

Good. He’d finally calmed down. Now it was time to get to the meat of the issue here.

I perched on the arm of the couch opposite him and said, “You need to lay low for a while.”

His hand holding the bottle of scotch froze, inches from his lips. “What?”

“My intel on Nolan has me confident that he won’t bring the law in on what happened back there. He’ll handle it how he handles most things. Illegally and brutally. He’ll come for you.”

“Ain’t got no problem with that, darlin'.”

“I do.”

He sighed heavily and put the bottle down on the coffee table between us. Sitting forward in his chair, he eyed me intensely, and said, “Is this where you issue a bunch of threats and try to force my hand with some leverage?”

“I’m not your enemy.”

Speaking in a low growl, he warned me, “You block my way to that asshole and we’re gonna be enemies.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. You’re letting your desperation cloud your judgment.”

“Desperation?”

“You want out so badly that you’re willing to cross any line.”

He reacted, unwittingly letting me know that there was weight to my accusation. “You got some nerve.”

“It’s called truth.”

“Nah, it’s called crossing a fucking line and you’d better watch yourself.”

I rose to my feet, looming over him. “Threaten me one more time and there’ll be consequences.”

Our fierce glares boring into one another’s, he pushed out of the chair, getting in my face. “Think you could put me down?”

“No question.”

“Have at it.”

“What?”

“Have at it,” he repeated, crooking his fingers at me in a bring it motion. “Kick my fucking ass.” His gaze roamed over my body. “Lay your hands on me.”

Heat blazed in his eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was hunger or aggression.

And as I fisted my hands in his leather jacket, I couldn’t tell on my end either.

Even when I slammed my lips to his and jerked him tighter against me, the need to feel his hard, muscular body against mine taking me over.

The moment he kissed me back, though, everything became clear.

There was no more room for denial.

I wanted him.

An explosion of passion detonated all over me as he fisted his hands in my hair and used it as leverage to hold me at his mercy, the way he wanted me, the way he needed me.

He was brash and rough as he escalated the kiss and plunged his tongue into my mouth, tasting me ravenously, desperately.

I could hardly breathe with it, let alone think.

There was just heat and need. So much overwhelming, unmistakable need.

I slid my hands down his leather jacket and rested them on his belt.

The second I made contact there, he pushed us backward, my back jarring