Charged (18 page)

“When you put it that way, I guess I have no choice. I have no car, no money, no clothes, and no help unless I let you.” Her answer is distant and detached and I can almost see the second she’s resigned herself to defeat.

“I’m not going to toss you to the wolves. I know the Lusi. I know what they are capable of, and I’ve been working my way to be free of them myself. If anyone understands your predicament, it’s me. I get having your balls over the fire — figuratively speaking. So spill.”

Downing her drink, Kate mutters low under her breath. It’s sexy as hell. I want her mumbling, and muttering, moaning, and screaming out my name — but I have the feeling, this is going to be a long night of storytelling and my dick is about to be sidelined.

Kate

I
swear the Mississippi air must be getting to me. How asinine this is? Not only do I want to have sex with Ryker, but I’m considering telling him everything, even though my gut is telling me I’d be leaving myself vulnerable. 

Pushing my glass across the counter for another fifth of liquid courage, I wait as Ryker refills it, and I down it quick. I don’t even feel the burning sensation from the bourbon, my senses are so battered. 

Looking into his absolutely stunning face, and channeling my inner bravado, I take a deep breath. Lightning quick, I spew it all out. “My name isn’t Kate. It’s Georgia.” I pause, nervously anticipating his reaction. “Georgia Katherina Lusi. Gianfranco, is my father.”

Ryker takes a step back, leans on the counter behind him and stares at me wild eyed. He looks at me, as if I’d dropped an atomic bomb. I can see it now; in under ten minutes, my ass will be back on that bike and dropped at the doors of the shop, hog tied and waiting like a pretty little package for my father. Well, the man whom I’m related to. He lost the designation of father the day he murdered my mother and destroyed my life.

“I call bullshit. No fucking way are you Gianfranco’s daughter, she was killed —”

“About twenty years ago, right?” I push up off the chair grabbing the bottle that sits between us and drink straight from the neck. “I’m sure you know the circumstances as well as I do,” I say sucking back a new mouthful of fire. “Anyone who’s anyone knows Gianfranco, and the story of his daughter, Georgia and his wife, Messina. The story of how they died.”

“This is bullshit. Georgia’s dead.” He snatches the bottle of bourbon back, pours the caramel liquid down his own throat then coughs lightly, pounding on his chest. 

“
She’s
not dead.
She’s
me.” Ryker hands it back after filling his glass, and I take the half empty container, sloshing more into my own. “The DEA had me patched up at the hospital, and I ended up with WITSEC, until I ran away.” Lifting my shirt, I reveal the neat little mark just below my heart where I was shot. 

“What happened to you?” he asks incredulously. 

“When I tried to cover my cousin,
this
is what happened. He thought he had no witnesses as he watched the car burn around me.” I’ve drank way too much, but the empty glass feels heavy as the remaining ice cubes tinkle back and forth. I reminisce on the past and feel the weight of it. It’s crushing.

“Daddy dearest thought I was dead. My uncle Mario, shot my aunt Cassia, then turned on his daughter. I’d tried to cover my cousin, but he hit me in the process as I tried to protect her. That’s when I knew there was nothing that could stop them.”

Ryker, knowing this will be a long night, pulls out more ice from the freezer, clinking it into his glass. “I heard the story differently. They said it was a hit. That someone put out a mark on Gianfranco’s and Mario’s family.” 

“No. Not unless they don’t trust their hitmen to do a good job. I was there. They did the deed themselves.” I can see the night clearly. I know that the moment the madness takes over, my father has this incessant burning need to cause mayhem, which only fuels his psychosis. 

“My mother made the mistake of trying to leave GF, and while we were leaving town, he caught us.” Ryker stands stoically against the counter, absorbing the gravity of it all. I’m still not sure if I’m going to be trussed up like a present and delivered, but now that I’ve started the story, I have finish. 

“
My father…he
saw me there, and it didn’t stop him from getting rid of the evidence. Messina;d betrayed him.
We
were the fire sale — everything must go.” Swallowing the amber, drinking it down, I start to feel the tingling sensation of an early buzz. I pour in as much as I can handle without my cheeks bursting. 

I’m surprised. Ryker has listened stoically, not saying a word the whole time I’ve recited my history. I haven’t been tossed across his shoulders, or duct taped to the seat of his pick up, and I haven’t been carted to the shop. Yet.

“He didn't know I was still alive when he set the car on fire.” I pause, licking the bourbon off my fingers and think about that horrible fucking day. “You wanna know the worst things?” Ryker stares back at me, an unreadable emotion reflecting back at me from his eyes. “I can still feel the heat. I felt it as it crawled across my mother’s clothes, as it licked at my skin, and engulfed the front seat where my best friend laid dying.” 

Standing up, and lowering the edges of my jeans, I show him the puckered skin. I see it every time I look in the mirror, reminding me that life is unpredictably cruel. That destroyed skin, the destroyed life, and dead child left in a burning car, that was all that remained of who I was.  

“I waited until they left and snuck into the trunk through the pass thru, popped it open and slipped into a dark alley. I was lucky.” I recall watching from the side of the building as the fire desiccated all of the evidence.

“CJ, my handler, found me curled up against the building with burned flesh and a bullet wound. He placed me in protective custody immediately, and the rest is history.” Not great history, but that’s all in the past too. 

I reach across the counter, grabbing the whiskey. Fuck, it’s empty. To get through the rest of this evening we will need to be drunk. I don’t want to feel a fucking thing when he leaves me to die. 

“Let me get this right. You’re Georgia Lusi?”

“Didn’t we just go over that? Yes, I am. So do what you have to do. Take me back to the shop, call GF, and let him know I’m in rural butt-fuck Mississippi. He can come get his long-lost daughter.”

Ryker tips his glass back and blows out a deep breath as he stares me down. His eyes blaze dangerously bright, while he’s deciding the next course of action. 

“I need something stronger.” 

“No shit.” I fully agree. 

Ryker pulls out a bottle of Irish scotch from the cupboard, pulls the cork, and proceeds to refill both our glasses. “Ok. So, say I believe you, ‘cause I doubt you’d make that shit up.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

“I doubt anyone would want to be his daughter on purpose. And no, I won’t be the one to tell him.
That
I promise you.” 

“Thanks.” Relief washes over me, but I remain wary. Ryker is the first person I’ve trusted this with and I’m hoping it doesn’t bite me in the ass. 

“Now what?” 

“Well, first thing. That car of yours isn’t going anywhere. It’s toast. The engine and doors were the least of your problems.” He puts his hand up to stop me from interrupting him. “I already looked at the cars in the back, and before this little revelation, I’d yanked a wrecker for you. It should get you to your next hiding spot. Also, Gianfranco and Mario, are expected here tomorrow.” 

“Fuck off!” Slamming my glass on the counter, the alcohol sloshes all over my fingers. “Why would GF come here?” 

“We’re his biggest — and best — chop shop in the southern states. Jack’s been working on this Roadrunner Superbird for months. It’s for Gianfranco’s personal collection.” 

I sit silently, chewing my lip as I try to process the fact that my father will begin this very town in just a few more hours. 

“You ok with all of this?” Tipping his glass back, I think he feels the gravity of this. I’ve thrown him directly in front of a freight train with no brakes.

“Are you?” 

I don’t need to answer it any more than he does, as we both understand the position we’re faced with. Words are not necessary.

“Stay here tonight. I’ll tell Hazel a bullshit answer that you weren’t feeling well, and you can hang out until I can bring you the car tomorrow. Then you hit the road, and don’t ever look back.”

“You’ll let me go? Like — I can run and be gone, as if I never landed in this godforsaken place?” 

He steps closer to the counter, and I take in his heavenly scent. He was delectable before, now he’s downright irresistible. Ryker leans over, leaving only inches between us, grinning that beautiful, brilliant, full lipped smirk I’m learning to love. It lights his eyes and makes me want him touching me everywhere. 

I don’t care if he’s a manwhore. Heck, he might have laid with every college girl, housewife, and hooker in town, but it doesn’t matter. My desire is too close to tipping. Tomorrow I’ll be leaving, and I want to know Ryker intimately. It’s a baser need than hiding. I want to feel every inch of him and I’m hungry. 

Touching his face, I stroke the rough, soft hairs that blend together in his beard, feeling them between my fingers. Feeling his languid soft lips, I anticipate having them caress every inch of me. This tension; it’s pure anguish. 

“Ryker,” I say softly, thinking of all the dirty things I want to do with him. 

“Georgia, don’t think about tomorrow. Think about me, and you, right now. In this house. I want you stripped naked, panting and moaning — screaming out my name until I decide to let you cum.” Ryker looks at my lips with hunger — a searing stare — before finally taking what he wants. Without invitation, pressing up against me he takes my mouth with his. It’s hot and it’s greedy, and it’s oh so good. 

Giving myself over to the assault, I let Ryker lead. My own tongue meshes with his, tangling and vying for control as we fall prey to our desire.
We’ve
both needed the release of this pent up frustration, and there’s no fucking way I’m stopping. Roaming hands search impatiently along my sides, skimming the edges of my breasts. 

Devouring Ryker is all I think about, and I ache deep inside. My breath is tight as I moan and whimper for his touch, pulling him even closer. But just as quick as it began, he tears his mouth from mine, leaving me feeling robbed instantly. 

“I won’t stop. Don’t ask me to,” he rasps out. His voice is strung tight and breathless. He trails his mouth along my collarbone, his teeth pinching and nipping. My skin feels like it’s on fire for his touch, the need growing as every sensitive nerve in my body is firing at full tilt. My heartbeat increases, anticipating the satisfaction I know he can offer as his lips smack a song. I’m being played like a concerto. 

“I need you,” I plead, gripping his soft hair, pressing myself against him. “Please,” I whimper. The desperation in my voice is unmistakable.

His rigid cock is pressed against my stomach, straining against those Levis’. I want every orgasm he promised. I want to shudder, and I want to fall apart. I want it all. 

“Come with me,” he commands. Bending low, he scoops me up and presses me tight to his heaving chest. I drink it all in — the sexual thirst, the scent of his need, and the feel of his breath as his lungs shudder with desire. It’s beautifully excruciating as he hums, growls, and groans against my skin.

I was on fire at Hazel’s, I could hardly stand being on the back of the motorcycle holding his body close to mine, and when he teased me through my jeans in public, I was done for. 

I kiss him on the cheeks, on the nose and on his lips, as his whiskers torture my skin. It’s sweet torture and I’m sure my face will be rough in the morning, but I don’t give a damn. A bit of rug burn is worth it. 

Shifting me off the chair and moving us down the hall, his bedroom looms in the dark. Ryker opens the door, and without turning on a light, we move. Lit only by moonlight, he carries me to the edge of the bed, setting me on my feet as I frantically pull at his belt buckle, loosening it, and taking the zipper down. I set his stiff cock free, wrapping my hand around it, not missing the sexy inhale as he sucks in a breath through his teeth. His pleasure is a huge turn on.