Breathing His Air (6 page)

If Sanchez got to her, she’d never be the same. That goofy smile would no longer see the fun in life. A biker club with no scruples had a way of showing you the hardness in life. Sanchez would fill her head with garbage until there was no way out. Tori had a tendency to stay in her head, and Sanchez would use her escapism to his advantage. She’d be prey to a man with no conscious.

The Lagsturns were staying at Cozy Inn. His own damn business. He’d find answers there. If they had Tori, he’d kill them all.

His bike roared to life. He hit the main road, cut across the closed gas station, and squealed his tires around the corner. Running every light between Cactus Cove and Cozy Inn, he arrived at the hotel within ten minutes.

To shorten the time, he entered through the front parking lot, rode his chopper up to the entryway, parked, and stormed through the main entrance. Not a Lagsturns in sight.

Two couples sat in the lobby talking, but the large area remained quiet, and the lights were dimmed the way he’d expect, considering it was approaching midnight. He scanned the rear wall and connected with the front desk clerk. She smiled warmly, her eyes free from worry.

“Hi, boss. I wasn’t expecting you to come in until tomorrow.” Sally set down a magazine and stood.

“What room is Sanchez in?” He continued walking past the desk toward the hall.

“Room 212,” she answered.

Rain passed the elevator and went right to the stairs, taking them three at a time. On the second-floor landing, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He stopped and pulled his cell out. “Yeah?”

“We found her,” Taylor panted.

“She all right?” He closed his eyes a moment in relief before turning around and slowly walking down the steps.

“You need to get to the bar, boss.”

“I asked … Is she okay?” He grasped the banister, vaulted, and landed on the next level.

“Physically, I think so, but” — Taylor instructed Torque to close the door — “she’s spaced. You need to come back. She won’t respond to anyone.”

“I’m there.” He ran through the lobby, nodding at Sally on his way out the doors.

He flew through town, going seventy on his motorcycle, and had no plans on stopping until he reached Cactus Cove. Ronny met him at the door and ushered him inside.

He scanned the area inside the bar and came up empty. “Where the hell is she?”

“Office.” Ronny cleared the way.

Torque opened the office ahead of him and let Rain inside. Taylor came around the desk, but there wasn’t any sign of Tori.

“What the — ”

“Under the desk.” Taylor planted her palms on his chest. “Slow down. She’s in shock, I think. I don’t know what happened after she came inside. But I swear, boss, when she was outside, no one bothered her.”

“Leave,” he rasped.

Afraid to look in case there was more going on than they said, he braced his hands on the desk and tried to calm down. He’d been seconds away from breaking into Sanchez’s room and spraying blood. He couldn’t deal with Tori when he was this keyed up.

He walked around the desk, squatted down, and got angry all over again. She belonged in some penthouse, spoiled and pampered. He’d asked her to hide away from everyone for a damn reason. This wasn’t a gated community, but a biker town. There were dangers present that a woman like her would never understand. Why couldn’t she listen to him?

“Babe?”

Motionless and despondent, she sat curled into a ball. Her hair fell over her face, hiding it from his view. He cupped the top of her head. She whimpered. His fist tightened. This was not the confident woman who was silly enough to bring him cookie dough or give love advice to a group of roughneck bikers.

“Sh.” He dropped to his knee. “It’s me, Rain.”

Her arms were wrapped tight around her knees, holding them to her chest. He left his hand on her. “Tori, you need to come out. I need to see if you’re hurt.”

No response. Not even an attempt to pull away from his touch. His chest tightened. Not knowing what had sent her hiding into his office, he struggled with which direction to take that would help her the most.

Determined to get Tori spitting mad at him again, he took the power out of her hands. “Get up.”

She squeezed even tighter. He rubbed his arm across his mouth and spoke louder. “Now, babe. Get up.”

She jerked upward, smashing his hand against the top of the desk. He rubbed her hair, protecting her head in case she tried to retreat again. “You’re in my office.”

She turned and stared at him. The blank expression, the glossy eyes, the dry cheeks took him by surprise. He quickly studied her face, looking for injuries. Finding none, he gripped her arm and hauled her off the floor in the gentlest way possible.

Her legs supported her, but she stood lifeless in front of him. He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her chin up, and studied her eyes. Both pupils stayed dilated even though all the lights in the office were on.

“Tori?” he said.

She grabbed on to his vest. “He’ll kill you,” she whispered. “Hide.”

Understanding came, and he pulled her to his chest. She’d never witnessed a confrontation between bikers before, and she was in shock.

Taylor opened the door. He shook his head and watched Taylor grimace. There was no time to wait for Tori to snap out of it. “Bring me a bottle of whiskey.”

“Sure, boss,” Taylor whispered, backing out of the room.

He’d seen bikers go into shock after suffering road rash or fighting, and a few shots always brought them around. He held Tori, letting her know that she was okay and he had things under control.

Taylor came back in the office and set the whiskey bottle and two shot glasses on the desk. “How is she?”

“She’s zoned.” He wrapped his arm around her. “Shut the door on your way out.”

No heavier than a set of leathers, she sat pressed into the corner of the couch where he placed her. He gathered the whiskey and one glass and returned to her side.

After pouring a finger’s worth in the cup, he held the bottle between his legs. “Drink.”

She blinked at him and refused to move. He gently grabbed the hair at her nape, tilted her chin, and poured the liquid in her mouth. She swallowed automatically and sputtered. Ignoring the alcohol dripping down the front of him, he hurried and poured another one.

This time, she shook her head and tried to move away. He held her in place, poured, and pulled her head back, encouraging her to swallow. That time, she kept more inside her.

Her mouth opened and she gasped. One more drink in her, and he gave her a break. A believer that no one should drink alone, he lifted the bottle straight to his lips and let the whiskey burn the night away.

“One more, babe.” He helped her drink.

She closed her eyes and blew out her breath. “Rain?”

The relief of hearing her respond swept through him, and he set the bottle on the floor beside him and pulled her over to him. He simply held her, smoothing her hair. His hand shook, and he questioned how this little bit of woman trouble affected him so deeply.

Chapter Seven

Rain sat beside her, looking amused. Not any kind of humorous smile, but the one where he pulled up the right corner of his mouth and his eyes warmed to a degree that made her forget what a dumbass he could be to her. She struggled to swallow her reaction. Her throat burned, and the thick smell of alcohol surrounded her.

The way he looked at her, she wondered if she’d gone too far to prove she could come and go when she wanted. That had been her plan tonight, to show him she was a one-woman team. “How much did I drink?”

“Not enough.” He grabbed the bottle, filled a shot, and passed it to her. “Drink.”

“I hate whiskey.”

“Drink.”

“No.” She gave him back the glass. “I’m a tequila girl, but I only drink — ”

“Taylor!” Rain said.

The door opened. Taylor stuck her head inside, spotted her, and tapped her forehead, chest, and each shoulder in the sign of the cross. Tori frowned. Why would Taylor be thankful?

The night came at her in a rush. Her next breath never came, and she fought to bring air into her tightening chest. Oh God, there was a gun. She remembered everyone running and Taylor pushing her inside. Rain? She’d opened her mouth, but she couldn’t yell for them to hide with her.

“She wants tequila. Now.” Rain grabbed her wrist when she tried to stand. “Sit.”

She struggled against him. He picked her up in one move and put her on his lap. His arms came around her, turning her head and holding her against his chest, hidden from the outside world. She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled his leather, the testosterone, the musk. Beneath the vest, she felt his heartbeat and concentrated on the rhythm. He was alive. As long as she could smell him, feel him, she wasn’t alone.

“What the hell, babe?” he murmured, stroking her hair.

She squirmed, trying to disappear inside him. Nobody could see her. If she got closer, she’d stay out of sight. He’d keep her safe. He was bigger than anyone she knew.

“Sit up.” He nudged her.

She shook her head, pushed her hands between him and the couch, and locked herself in place. He heaved a sigh. She held on through the rise of his chest and the shift of his position.

He hooked his finger under her chin and forced her to look up. “Drink until you forget.”

All she could manage is to look at him and blink. Why wasn’t he hiding?

His mouth hardened, and he put the Tequila bottle to her lips. “Tonight, you’ll drink without a glass, babe.”

The liquid hit her throat. Warmth ensnared her chest and relieved the pressure. She stared as he took a drink. His lips softened, forming perfectly around the bottle. He had a gorgeous mouth. Not too thin, and she liked it when he smiled.

Impressed, she took the tequila from him and matched him swallow for swallow, wanting to go wherever he planned to go. Each turn blocked out the horror from outside earlier and left her content to sit on his lap.

“Better?” He swiped his thumb at the corner of her mouth, catching a dribble as she drank, and then he licked his own finger.

A delightful shiver rolled over her back. “Much.”

Wonderful, in fact. Give her ten more minutes, and she’d forget entirely about sitting on his hard, thick, sculpted thighs. Thighs she couldn’t help noticing all the time, because he wore his black Levi’s worn and tight to his legs. Thighs that, at this moment, she squeezed and wasn’t surprised at how rock-hard and warm they were under her fingers.

“Babe?” Rain laid his hand over hers, stopping her from going any higher on his leg. “It’s the booze talking.”

She wiggled around and straddled his thighs to face him. “I think you like me. Under all that snarling, you really do like me.”

“Snarling?”

She leaned forward. “Oh, yeah, loud and mean.”

“You haven’t seen mean,” he muttered.

He gave one of those half chuckle/half snorts that men do when they want to hide the fact they’re laughing. She found the act adorable on him, because no man had ever directed that snortle toward her before. And it made her feel nice and comfortable sitting on Rain’s lap.

“Are you going to show me your mean side tonight?”

“Booze talking,” he whispered.

She slipped her hands over his shoulders and played with the hair at his nape. So thick and soft, his hair was beautiful. “You called me your woman.”

“Shit.”

“I like when you call me that too, even if I don’t understand what it means. Well, I do, but I don’t like it … that’s what I tell you.” She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his. “You’re bossy when you say” — she lowered her voice — “you’re my woman, babe.”

He growled. “Gonna get bossier.”

“Mm. See? You snarled.” She laid her cheek against his and closed her eyes. “Do it again.”

“What?”

“Growl.”

She stood in front of him. He’d moved so fast, she missed how he did it, but there she was, standing on her feet, missing him and wanting his warmth back. She craved the warmth. The warmth meant everything was okay.

“Tori.” He stopped her from reaching for the tequila bottle.

“Tonight I like you too, Rain.” She stepped forward and pressed her breasts against him, extracting the bottle from his fingers. “Tomorrow you can be mean.”

She walked around him, opened the door, stopped, and gazed over her shoulder. “Say it one more time. Please.”

He stared intently into her eyes and nodded. “You’re my woman, babe.”

The fuzzy warmth multiplied in her stomach, and she quivered in pleasure. “I really, really, really like that.”

She walked down the hallway and into the bar. Everyone seemed to look at her, and she wanted to share her good mood. They could all be secure knowing everything was okay. Rain made everything all right and trouble go away.

Taylor approached her. “Tori?”

She hugged her new friend. “It’s okay. Rain is here.”

Taylor leaned back without letting her go. “Girl, you’re sick whiskey dick.”

She nodded and smiled. “I’m warm.”

Not only was her body warm, but her thoughts were warm and the room was warm. She leaned into Taylor. She was warm too.

“Oh, geez … ” Taylor pulled her hand and led her to a table. “Sit here. I’ll get you a coffee.”

“Don’t bother.” Tori stepped barefooted up on the chair, wobbled and held her arms out to catch her balance. “I make damn good coffee — ”

The bar customers shouted and held their fists in the air, shouting their agreement. She held the hem of her sundress and curtsied — well, she leaned over, and Taylor stopped her from falling off her perch. “But” — she put her finger to her lips, speaking to the room — “I can’t stand the taste of coffee. Doesn’t mean I don’t make damn fine coffee. I do. Ask anyone.”

“Drink the tequila,” a man’s voice encouraged her.

“Ex-cellent idea.” She laughed, swaying on the chair, and lifted the bottle to her lips. When her arm shook, threatening to spill the liquid, she lowered the drink and caught Rain’s steady, mean stare. “No, no, no.”

She jumped down and marched over to Rain. He was doing the tight-mouth thing he was so good at, but his eyes … They were still warm and gave her hope she could distract him. “You can’t be mad yet. Tomorrow you can be mad.”