Cross Fire (Padre Knights MC Book 3) (9 page)

Off in the distance, Ali thought she heard a gun roar. She stumbled to the window, the whiskey twisting her legs up. Cristina was sound asleep on the couch, snoring. She giggled. That couch had seen more action in the past few days than it had in the past few years. Hysterical.

No sign of Alejandro yet. No texts or phone calls. He’d left hours ago, and she didn’t dare to call him. What if he were hiding out somewhere, and the buzz of his phone gave him away? That probably only happened in movies, but still. What if?

She refused to think that he might be dead. All the time he’d been gone, at least she’d known that he was all right. Cristina had grudgingly answered her questions, and for all that she disrespected the life her cousin had chosen, it would have torn her to pieces if he were killed. So Ali had believed the updates, even if she was pretty sure that Cristina had edited them to make them as sensational and unappealing as possible.

Neither Pitbull nor Zig had returned either. She tried to believe that Alejandro had connected with them, and that was the reason for his abrupt departure. And that the three of them were fine, negotiating the deal that would set them all free, that would make Arroyo Falls safer for everyone. For her part, she didn’t really care which gang was moving drugs and guns through the town. She couldn’t see that it made any difference. There was still cocaine coming through, and people still needed to be extremely careful after dark. The real victory would be if they got the Sheriff out of his office, and the gangs had to find some other pipeline. And if Alejandro were President of a gang that was involved in more minor things, like pot and legal escorts, that was just different than running hard drugs and weapons that were used to kill people.

She twisted the hem of her shirt in her fingers and tried to find some faith. She thought about praying, something she hadn’t done in any earnest in an awfully long time, but the words didn’t come to her. Any God that she cared to believe in would know the inner goodness of a man like Alejandro, and wouldn’t need her begging to watch out for him. So she sat by the window, and she waited to see when he would arrive.

Dawn was kissing the horizon when she heard a motorcycle off in the distance. Ali couldn’t keep her seat; she ran out to the porch, and as soon as he planted the bike in the dirt, she was running to him, throwing herself into his arms with so much force that she nearly knocked him off balance. He picked her up, swinging her around and laughing.

“I love you,” she said between kisses. “I love you. Don’t you dare ever do that to me again! I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Go get your helmet,” Alejandro said, his eyes gleaming, his mouth wide in the most real smile she’d ever seen on him outside of her bedroom. “I want to take you for a ride.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

He took her to the rocks, to the same lookout point he’d brought her to the day he arrived back in town. This time, she had no trouble leaning in to him, no trouble giving in to the ever-present desire to be closer to him. She leaned against his chest and breathed in his scent, leather and man and something spicy and clean. “You’re alive,” she said.

“I nearly wasn’t. He put a gun to my head, just to see what I would do. To see if I would flinch.”

“Did you?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “If I had, I wouldn’t be here.”

“The truce. Did it work?”

He squeezed her tight as he whispered his “yes.” She squealed with joy and spun in his arms to kiss him. “He’s going to take over the hard business, and he gave me his word that he would personally answer to any trouble that happened in town. He’s— I know he’s a criminal, Ali, but trust me, there’s a code—”

“I get it,” she said, kissing him again. “I understand.”

“This is what Turk would have wanted,” he said. “I wish you could have met him,
mi amor
. He was a hell of a man. Bottled lightning, piss, and vinegar.”

“I’m glad. Did you tell Pitbull and Zig?”

He nodded. “We’re clearing out of town in the next few days. They’re at the warehouse, packing up what there is to be packed. Making arrangements for the men we lost, getting them where they should be with enough funds for their families to see them properly buried.”

“Do all your men have families?”

He sighed and shook his head. “No. It’s a hard life you’re signing up for, even with the club keeping things cleaner. There’s the guys who show up thinking there’s no rules, and you have to set them straight, and there’s always drama, people posturing, trying to be more than who they are. But they’re family. They’re more than family. And for some of them, we’re the only family they have anymore.”

“What about family?” she asked. “Do you want one?”

His dark eyes sparkled. “Ali Owens, are you asking me to make babies with you? I’m shocked, frankly, just shocked,” he said, in a goofy voice that made her giggle and poke him in the chest. He pretended to wince at the shove of her finger, though she was pretty sure he’d barely felt the jab.

“I mean, I had to figure you weren’t too worried about it. We haven’t exactly been careful.”

“Can you imagine a baby with my hair and your eyes?” He was glowing, positively glowing. She twined their fingers together and smiled.

“I think we could make some lovely babies,” she said. “Not just yet, though. I have to move, and get settled. But… maybe in the future.”

“To the future,” he said, and pulled her to him. She could feel him rock hard in his pants, and the surge of need that filtered through her was partially the aftereffects of whiskey, and partially his scent, and partially the raw need she felt whenever he was nearby.

“I want you,” she said, putting her hand down and rubbing him through his pants. He hissed against her hand, moving with her. “I want you
now
.”

“It’s against my nature to say no to a pretty woman,” he said, his forehead on her shoulder, panting just a little. “But I don’t have a blanket or anything with me, and I don’t want you to get— I don’t know, fire ants in your hair.”

“Then take me home,” she said, standing and pulling him to his feet. “And speed limits be damned.”

They ended up in the barn. Tip whickered softly at them as they climbed the ladder into the hay loft like horny kids, and he watched as she spread out a few blankets to protect them from the sharp pokes of the loose hay. The heat had dissipated a little as they rode home, taking the curves at insane speeds, but as he lay down next to her, it all roared back in.

“I gave the engagement ring to Cristina,” she said. Alejandro froze, listening carefully. “She’s going to give it back to him. Travis is going to arrange movers in the next few days, and he’s going to arrange a short-term lease for me near the offices, so I’ll have time to find a house up there. I won’t have to see him again at all, if I’m careful.”

“I trust you, Ali,” he said. “If you need to see him, get closure—”

She shook her head. “I’m here with you now. Where I should have been, all these years.”

She pushed his shoulder over, and he laid down for her. She straddled him, feeling the heat between them, even as they were encased in denim. When she dragged her hips over his, he groaned for her, his hands coming up to cup her breasts. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, and he lifted her breasts out of the cups of her bra before she could even take it off. He found her nipples with his tongue, and she growled for him. He teased them with his thumbs, and then his teeth.

“Why are we still wearing pants?” she asked him, and he laughed.

“I was just following your lead.”

Ali jabbed him in the sternum again. “Strip, mister.”

“
Si, senorita,
” he said, and stuck his tongue out at her.

They were naked in the hayloft, the sun shining down and heating up the hay, giving the barn a glorious smell that she’d always loved. The thick smell of the warm hay surrounded her as she moved over him, dragging her cleft up the length of his shaft without slipping him in. He groaned at the sensation, and she shivered when the tip of him brushed her clit again and again.

“Can you come like that?” he asked, almost idly. His hands were on her hips, tracing delicate patterns over her skin.

“I— I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Let’s see. For me.” His hands came to her breasts again, and he twisted and teased at them as she slid up and down him, feeling a very different sort of electricity building inside of her. It was a more intense sensation, more concentrated, a kind of compromise between when she touched herself, and when he touched her. She could feel his eyes on her, devouring her, drinking in every groan and shiver and movement as she thrust over him, again and again. The sensations built slowly, filling her body, leaving her crying out with need and want and lust. When she spasmed over him, it was somehow utter and complete, and yet still left her longing for more.

He didn’t wait. He moved out from under her, and she went to her hands and knees for him. She was open and ready, but he still pressed into her with a slow, deliberate pace, dragging himself over her with agonizing patience. “Tell me you’re mine,” he said.

“I’m yours.”

He pressed hard into her, sheathing himself fully, and then thrusting rapidly a handful of times, enough to make her cry out and buck against him, that sensation of lurid need building again, faster than she’d expected.

He slowed with no warning, back to that dragging pace that was going to send her out of her mind. “Please,” she said. “Oh, God, please fuck me. Please.”

He chucked, and his thumb started to circle the puckered opening of her ass, teasing at her. “I
am
fucking you,
mi amor
. I hoped you’d noticed.”

“Fuck me harder,” she said, hating the whining tone in her voice, and not caring, needing him to plunge into her, to drive her out of her mind until she screamed and cursed and flung herself into him, thrilling for him.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I said.”

“Say it like you mean it,” he said, and she could hear how much he was loving this, loving every second of it.

“I’m yours,” she said, and he
tsked
.

“Not good enough.”

“I’m all yours, I’m entirely yours. I’m no one else’s.”

His thumb pressed into her ass, just a bit, and she groaned, an open-throated sound that made his other hand tighten on her hip. “Keep going.”

“I love how you touch me. I love what you’re doing. I am your filthy girl, your dirty girl. Am I your dirty little slut? Can I be? Jesus, that feels amazing, please, more, I want more—”

He slapped her ass, hard enough to make her yelp, hard enough she was sure there’d be a handprint later. “You get more when I give you more,” he said.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t deserve it.” Her cheeks blushed bright red, talking like this, but her clit was heavy and swollen with her need and all that she could think about was relieving the pressure, finding the valve that would let her burst and come and throb for him, again and again.

“You’re good at this,” he said, and the praise in his voice made her glow. “I’d give you more in your ass if I had lube up here. I’d fuck your ass. Fuck you hard, fuck you until you were screaming with the joy of it. Is that what you’d want,
mi amor,
my Texas Rose?”

“Yes,” she whimpered as his thumb made delicate movements in and out of her body. The sensation of fullness was exquisite, and she desperately wished for something more, something to tip her over the edge. “Yes. Want. My clit. Can I? Please?”

“You want to touch yourself while I’m buried in you?” She nodded, beyond words. “Please do,” he said.

Her fingers moved so fast, swirling through her dripping wetness, making her thighs weak, making her groan in that insatiable way again, and she felt the swelling orgasm sliding over her, choking her throat closed as the clenching started, first in her belly and then moving lower, spreading through her body. She slammed back into Alejandro, hard and fast, and he met her, groaning as he met her thrusts with his own.

“God, you’re amazing,” he said as she sagged on his cock. “You’re not done, though.”

She laughed. “I really think I am. That was— I saw stars. Planets. Comets.”

She felt him shake his head. “Nope. I know you’ve got more in you. I can feel it.” He thrust into her again, and she felt her body clench at him, heard herself give a whimper. “Told you.”

He turned her in an advanced move she never would have considered on her own so that she was lying on her back, and he was buried in her. After the intensity of her orgasms, being able to stare into his eyes carried so much intimacy on its own that she found herself tensing again, clenching at his cock inside of her, tipping her hips to give him the deepest access to her, and then squeezing him as he pulled back, making his jaw tense and the muscles work.

He caught her knees under his arms and lifted them, giving himself even more access to her body, and she groaned as he pressed into that deep spot within her that made her twitch. Every time he brushed over it, she clenched harder, and she could see him now, biting at his lip and focusing to maintain control.

Keeping her eyes locked on his, she found her nipples with her fingers and teased at them, rolling them between her fingers like he had, taunting them and feeling the buzzing burn as they shot sensation directly down to her clit. “Jesus, Ali,” he panted as he looked on. “Are you trying to torture me?”

“No,” she said. “If I was trying to torture you, I’d do
this
.” She lifted her breast and leaned her head down, just able to run her tongue over her own nipple.

He went totally silent, plunging so deep inside of her that she could feel his sac pressed against her ass. He swore in Spanish and closed his eyes. His entire body was trembling, and she pressed her hips up one more time, almost delicately.

He came then, roaring with the force of it, lifting her hips off the blanket and slamming into her. She could feel him pulsing inside of her, and she met his movements with her own until he fell over her, gasping for breath as he slipped free from her. His fingers gave her no rest, though, darting down inside her curls and finding her swollen, soaking clit. She gasped as he brushed over it, and she felt his tired smile.

“I’m okay,” she muttered. “I really am. You don’t need to—”

“Hush,” he said, sounding almost sleepy. “Take your medicine.”

He knew her so well by now. His fingers moved in the perfect rhythm, stroking her clit, moving with her as she groaned and arched off the blanket, dipping into her wetness—mixed with his, a thought that made her gasp all the harder—and then returning to circle and stroke, circle and stroke until she cried out, shrieking into his shoulder as she convulsed. And even then, he didn’t stop. “One more,” he whispered, and his fingers continued their busy motion until an orgasm, bigger than anything she’d ever felt before in her life, came over her. It stole away sight and sound, pulling all sensation and focus of the universe down onto her clit, and his fingers, and their careful, steady motion. She screamed again as the world fell to pieces, and she heard his voice in her ear, his gentle reassurances that he had her, he had her, she was safe, he loved her, he would always love her. He said it in English, and in Spanish, and when she came down, she found herself sobbing, weeping with the intensity of it all. He held her through that too, rocking her sleepily back and forth, stroking her back and repeating over and over that he loved her.

When she could breathe again, she kissed him. “What was that for?” he asked.

“For being the man I always thought you were,” she said.

He smiled softly, and kissed her back.

“If you two are done,” came Cristina’s strident tone from the bottom of the barn. “I’m going to make bacon and eggs and hash browns. Sound good to you two lovebirds? I have a hell of a hangover, and I am not driving until I’ve eaten.”

Ali’s eyes met Alejandro’s, and they giggled like teenagers. “We’ll be down in just a little bit,” Ali said. “Sorry. Thank you!”

“Uh-huh,” Cristina said, but there was a quiet laugh in her tone that Ali hadn’t heard in a long time. She heard the barn door close as Cristina left, and she saw Alejandro sigh.

“Guess it’s my turn to take
my
medicine,” he said.

They dressed, folded up the blankets, and headed back into the house. Cristina, true to form, had three burners on the stove going as she turned out food like only a mother could. As soon as Alejandro walked back into the house, she started speaking in rapid Spanish. He nodded and took it, whatever it was. Ali tried to catch her eye, but Cristina skillfully avoided her, and she was left with nothing but Alejandro’s “
si”
and “
no
” at regular intervals. She could guess at most of it, though.

They ate. Cristina was more pleasant than Ali had expected, smiling and teasing Alejandro. She didn’t mention Bobby, didn’t subtly hint at the downsides to this new, more formal relationship between her best friend and her cousin, and she didn’t give either of them the nasty glares that had been her mode of operation whenever they were together for a decade. After they’d all eaten, and Cristina pronounced her headache cured, she kissed both Ali and her cousin, and left.

“What was all that, when we came back in?” Ali asked Alejandro as he turned to start washing dishes.

“Standard stuff. Hurt my friend and I’ll cut off your
verga
with a dull knife. Blah blah blah. It’s sweet she cares.”

Ali set about fixing herself another cup of coffee. “You’re not worried?”

“Should I be?” He met her gaze levelly. “As long as you tell me when I’ve screwed something up—because I will, I’ve never tried doing this long-term thing in my life—and give me a chance to fix it, my dick should be perfectly safe. And I think that’s good for both of us.” He flicked soapy water at her, and she shrieked, protecting her coffee. “You seem to like him, after all.”