Page 12 of Beautiful Killer

“Ma . . .”

“He’s fine. But it’d be nice to have you home. Promise me you’ll try?”

Shit. “I’ll see what I can do.”

We talked for a little longer then she had to go and get her peach pie out of the oven. My mother made the best peach pie in the known world. I was pretty sure she brought it up to try and lure me home faster. The truth was, I hated the idea. I hated being reminded of the life I thought I’d have before I served, of the family I’d wanted. We’d lived in New York for a few years when I was a teenager, for my father’s work, which was how I met Van and the other guys. But my folks had moved back to Texas as soon as they could. I’d always assumed I would, too. Now Roxford held nothing for me, not anymore. Nothing but a ghost life. Some other person’s ideal. A version of me that had been destroyed in Afghanistan. My family thought I was some kind of hero. I was anything but.

Grabbing my keys, I headed out. I had a job to do. An impossible debt to try and pay back, to the men I failed, and to their families.

Three hours later, I was in a biker bar with Jude and Van. Music blared from speakers around the room, so loud it was all I could hear. I spotted the guy we were here for and tilted my head, letting Jude know I’d IDed our guy. He elbowed Van in the ribs by way of passing on the information. Jude cracked his neck then his knuckles, and a smile spread across Van’s face that was evil as fuck. I wasn’t the only one keen for fight tonight. I didn’t know what their reasons were, but we’d come to the right place. The guy we’d come for, the president of a local motorcycle club, made sure he was never alone, and there was no way we were getting out of here with him without adding some of our blood to the scarred wooden floor. Fine by me.

I looked at Jude and held up three fingers, to count down. I’d only dropped two, when he turned, strode across the room, dragged our guy’s VP from his seat, and head-butted him, knocking him out cold. The room erupted and Van and I waded in.

We walked out thirty minutes later, bloody, and with not only our guy, but a bonus asshole we’d received paperwork on earlier that day.

“Not a bad fucking payday,” Jude said, slamming the back of the van shut after cuffing the two skips inside.

His lip was split and when he grinned his teeth were coated in blood.

“You better go get that checked out,” Van said motioning to Jude’s arm. “Human bites are germy as fuck.”

Jude glanced down and scowled. “What kind of asshole bites a man?”

Van shook his head in disgust and turned to me. “We’re gonna head to Mack’s after we drop these two off and get Godzilla here checked out. I need to let off some fucking steam. You in?”

I wasn’t the only one with a fuck ton of adrenaline pumping through me after that fight. Van and Jude never had any trouble finding a way to burn it off, which usually meant going out and finding some company for the night. They asked me along all the time, but I never went. I tended to frighten women away, not the other way around . . .

Except for Sunny.

She was different. She sure as hell hadn’t been frightened of me. Just thinking about her and my dick got hard.

Fuck.

I shook my head. “Catch you tomorrow.”

I got into my car, pulling out onto the street. My knuckles were busted and I could feel my eye swelling. I felt none of it, no pain, not with the adrenaline, the tension firing through me, the hard, driving need. I should go straight home, get in the shower, and jerk off until my dick was sore and I was so spent I could barely stand up, but that’s not what I was going to do. I was heading toward Sunny’s, I knew I was, and I knew why, even as I tried to pretend that I didn’t. Even as I told myself, if I did, I’d just drive by, I wouldn’t go in.

I didn’t allow myself to think about it, not even when I pulled up outside her place and stared up at her darkened bedroom windows, or when I climbed out and took the stairs to her front door. My breath was puffing from my lungs hard and fast. Shit, I’d been fighting the relentless urge to come and check on her for two days. Tonight, that urge couldn’t be denied. My fist was beating on her front door before my brain engaged and I changed my mind.

Leave. Turn around and get the fuck gone.

My boots stayed planted where they were. I wasn’t going anywhere.

A minute later the light behind the door flicked on.

I didn’t hear her feet on the floor as she approached the door. They’d be bare since she’d been in bed. I stared at the peephole, knowing she’d be looking out at me, and waited for her to make her decision.

Let me in or walk away.

The rattle of the locks came next and my blood fired faster, hotter, pumping through me. I kept my hands at my sides, fists clenching and unclenching restlessly. I could already feel her skin under my hands. Taste her on my tongue.

The door opened and she stood there, framed by light, hair wild, in nothing but a pale pink satin nightie. It hit high on her lush thighs, hugged her breasts. Her nipples puckered and I lifted my eyes to hers.

She sucked in a breath. “You’re hurt.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

She reached for the door frame then lifted a foot, resting it on top of the other. The way that delicate foot, with its yellow painted toenails, was slightly turned in, made my insides tighten.