Lennox (27 page)

“You can’t run us out of town,” I say. “We
aren’t going anywhere. So stop trying to blacklist Lennox.”

Mr. Cartwright narrows his eyes at me. “And why on earth would
I want to do that? Life would be so much better for all of us if you
would just . . . vanish into the night.” He
spreads his hands like a magician.

Lennox snorts. “I’ve got a better idea.”

The men stare at each other for several seconds. Then, slowly, Mr.
Cartwright turns toward me. “You’re Mister Drazic’s
niece, right? Drazic Muscleworks? A pity you had to be caught up in
all of this.”

I return his frosty smile. “Why don’t you just hear him
out?”

“Fine.” Mr. Cartwright clasps his hands. “I’m
listening.”

“The McManuses have always been a problem for you, haven’t
they? They blocked your bid for city council. Your efforts to
expand.”

Mr. Cartwright’s lip curls back. “Mama has a certain
insufferableness and tenacity to her. Yes, go on.”

“We can give you information,” I say. “Dirt on
their entire operation. We can help you take them down. Cleanly.
Legally.”

Mr. Cartwright drums his fingers against his lips. “And in
exchange?”

No nonsense, then. Not that I expected anything less from him.

“Give me breathing room.” Lennox crosses his arms. “Don’t
worry, I won’t spill Amber’s secret further, but . . .
you’ve got to give me more latitude than you have.”

“And what is it that you need, exactly?” Cartwright asks.

“Funds,” I say.

Cartwright rolls his eyes. “Of course.”

“Nothing excessive. Enough to get the Muscleworks on solid
financial footing. To settle my grams’s remaining medical
bills. Enough that we can live, and not just scrape by.”

“And you’ll keep . . . your word?”
Mr. Cartwright says, looking at me as he says it, even though he
means it for Lennox.

“Everyone who matters to me knows the truth anyway.”
Lennox shrugs. “I’ve got nothing left to gain.”

“Then I’ll see what I can do.”

*

The Camaro purrs beneath me like a contented panther. We are power
and raw energy, working seamlessly together as I steer it into a
tight turn. My body lifts up and away, pulling at the far edges of
the turn, and then snaps back into the seat. Success.

I love a system I can figure out. Cars. Race tracks. Ways to
dismantle a criminal organization and widespread corruption. Lennox.
Slow down here, speed up there, pass that cocky asshole in the
Mitsubishi right over here. There are rules to follow and parts to
fit into place. But for all of that, I also find it freeing. I’m
in control.

Jagger’s Mitsubishi, still dented on the driver’s side,
closes in on me even as Nash up ahead starts to lag behind. Nash’s
new car still needs some work. He’s taking the straightaways
way too cautiously, not revving up nearly enough. I’m happy to
do the work on it for him, now that he’s pulled his shit
together. Hell, he even thanked Lennox for everything he’d done
for me and our crew. Things will be awkward for a while longer there,
but anything’s better than the way it was before.

Our family really is coming back together. And I’m coming out
ahead of the way things were.

“All right, sexy.” Lennox whispers to me through my
earpiece. “Just speed up past Nash and bring it home. You’ve
got this.”

I throttle the engine and rocket ahead, leaving Jagger in my dust.
I’m closing in on Nash, weaving to the left, trying to pull
ahead, but I’m just a little too late. I finish a split-second
behind Nash. I’ll take second place. Gives me something to aim
for next.

We skid to a stop and line up in a semi-circle around the picnic
bench at the rest stop, where Drazic, Cyrus, and Lennox wait. “Not
bad,” Drazic says, as I hop out of the Camaro. “You
almost looked like you knew what you were doing.”

Lennox sidles up to me—he’s moving slower, but otherwise
looks in good shape. I loop one arm around his waist, mindful of his
ribs, and lean into him.

“Looking good, gorgeous.” Lennox feathers a kiss against
my temple. “You’re going to be fearsome on the circuit.”

“Well, that’s not up to me.” I risk a shy glance at
Uncle D. I know he’s trying hard to be accommodating to Lennox
and me both, but I doubt he’s going to mess up our crew’s
roster just to give me a shot.

Uncle D crosses his arms with a weighty exhale. “Don’t be
so hard on yourself,
djevojka
.” He grins. “With
the McManuses all dead or in jail, I’d say we’ve gained a
few spare slots on the next circuit. Keep it up, and I’ll put
you in. Especially when you’ve got someone like Lennox calling
the shots on your comms.”

I squeal and toss my arms around my uncle’s neck. “Oh,
thank you so much! I’ll make you proud. I promise.”

“Oh, I know it.” He gestures toward a steaming plate of
burgers, which Jagger is already devouring. “If you want some
more burgers, by the way, you’d better move fast.”

Cyrus snatches one from the plate, then holds it aloft in toast to
me. “To our newest road warrior, Elena. And Lennox, once he’s
up to the task.”

“Hear, hear!”

Everyone raises their sodas or beers in toast. Even Nash, who gives
Lennox a grudging nod. “Glad to have you back with us. Both of
you.”

I slide my hand into Lennox’s. “I don’t think we’ll
stick around for more burgers. We kind of have other plans.”

Lennox’s grin splits his face as I lead him back to the Camaro.

We’re holed up in the Ridgecrest Hotel while his grandma’s
house is getting a much-needed overhaul. Sturdier handrails on the
stairs, a ramp up to the porch, and no-slip coating and handrails in
the shower and bath. Sure, we could have blown the money on a new car
for Lennox, but he insisted on taking care of Grams first. I don’t
mind. It’s nice to have the hotel room to ourselves while Grams
stays at a friend’s house.

“That was some sexy as hell driving you pulled off today.”
Lennox looms over me in the hotel room doorway as I dig around for
our room key. “You’re a natural.”

“Not even. I just have a very good coach.” I unlock the
room and the door swings open.

Lennox looks at me, his eyes dark, burning like embers. It stokes a
fire in me, that look. That expression I’ve dreamed of almost
every night since I was sixteen and he made a promise to me. I reach
for his face and scrub my fingers in his hair.

“I love you, Elena.” He slides his hands beneath my
T-shirt and rests them against my stomach. My thighs tighten at his
touch, flush with a fresh, sharp sense of want. “I hope you
realize that by now.”

“Yeah, I kind of got the idea when you crashed a car for me.”
I kiss his chest, right at the tip of the V of his thermal shirt.
“But you don’t have to prove anything to me. You don’t
have to reach some sort of milestone. And you
really
don’t
have to break any more ribs.”

Lennox answers me with a deep kiss. I curl my fingers farther into
his hair as he backs me against the hotel room wall. He tastes like
warmth and comfort, enveloping me in him. I breathe him in as he
presses against me. The tightness in my belly is coiled up like a
spring and I’m about ready to snap.

“I need you,” Lennox whispers as he breaks the kiss. His
lips find a tender patch of skin below my earlobe and he sucks at my
neck. Warmth flares inside me. I lower my hands to his belt and start
to fumble with the latch.

“I’ll be gentle,” I tell him. “I don’t
want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” He laughs, throatily,
and helps me with his buckle. “Just try it. Do your worst.”

I free him from his jeans and slip my hands beneath his boxer briefs.
His shaft is already firm in my hands, tightening the spring inside
me even further. Oh, god, I want him so badly. No time for teasing.
We’ve gone too many years apart to care. Lennox eases my jeans
down from my hips and shoves my panties aside.

“Every night in prison, I dreamed of you.” He presses his
fingers against my folds and teases them apart. I suck in my breath
as cold air hits my bared flesh. “I dreamed of making you
scream my name. Of pleasing you.”

“And every night, I dreamed of you calling me yours.”

“That’s because you are mine,” Lennox growls.

Lennox pulls his hand free, then wraps both palms around the backs of
my thighs. Hoists me up into the air. Winces, slightly, as I wrap my
legs around his waist, but then he’s backing me against the
wall and probing me with his cock.

“You’re all. Fucking. Mine.”

And then he plunges into me, pinning me in place. I cry out as he
sinks into me and I give myself over to delight.

Lennox teases one of my breasts out from my tank top as he thrusts
into me and wraps his lip around my nipple. I shudder at the
sensation of his warm mouth on cool skin and his deep, powerful
thrusts. We work together as a system, my thighs tightening around
him, his cock pulsing into me, until the world goes blurry and white
around me.

I dig my nails into his shoulder blades. “Oh, fuck,” I
warn him. “Lennox. Fuck.”

“Do your worst, Elena.”

He slams me against the wall. Our neighbors at the hotel probably
hate us. I couldn’t fucking care less. My climax is like a
thunderclap, rolling through my body, and judging by the intense,
hungry expression on Lennox’s face, his is much the same.

After a few moments, he eases out of me, and carries me to the bed,
cradling me in his arms. We sink into the fluffy comforter side by
side and I curl up against his chest, already breathing deeply.

“Your love was worth fighting for,” Lennox whispers as he
brushes a stray hair from my face. “It was worth becoming a
better man for.”

“You’ve always been the best man I know.” I smile
and kiss his forehead.

“And now I’m yours. For the rest of time.”

“Good. Because you can’t get rid of me again,” I
warn him.

Lennox laughs and pulls me close. “Don’t you know by now?
I’d burn rubber for just one kiss from you.”

I prop myself up on one elbow and look him in the eye. Then scan the
rest of him—the hard lines of his thighs, his muscled abdomen,
his scarred but gorgeous face. “Oh, don’t worry, baby.”
I roll on top of him. “I’ll give you a whole lot more
than that.”

THE END

Starting this
writing 
thang
 has
been such a crazy and awesome journey. I can't thank those that have
helped me along the way enough - I'm sure I'll miss someone, but bear
with me. Jenn Watson & the team at Social Butterfly PR: you
ladies are geniuses. That is all.
To the bloggers who have
shared my cover and reviewed Lennox: your support means so much to
me, I can't fully express it into words. Thanks for welcoming me with
open arms and jumping into this speeding car ;) 

My author
friends who have supported me from the beginning, your tips and words
of advice have been monumental. Lola Darling, Roxy Sloane &
Lizzie Hart Stevens - keep being dirty. I love it!

Of course,
thanks goes to my husband who puts up with my face shoved into a
computer for hours so that I can pursue my dream. You are my
everything. 

And
to the readers: you guys make my heart practically burst. Your
excitement for my book is ferocious and addicting - I hope to make
you proud! THANK YOU for reading!

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Keep reading for sneak peaks of new releases from Blake Austin and J.D. Hawkins!

Luke Crawley is a broken man.  He’s lost everything that mattered in the world, and now
he’s just trying to dull the pain with a blur of booze and women. Until the letters arrive. Nine envelopes, nine
last messages to guide him back. But how do you hold on to the memories of the past, and still have faith for a better
day?

Discover
NINE LETTERS
, the
stunning, emotional debut from Blake Austin. A stand-alone romance novel.
Available soon
.

Eighteen-wheelers rolled through
Kansas City on the 70 outside the window, and noon light came in
through the blinds. Neither the noise nor the light did much good for
my hangover, and I didn't so much wake up as I gave up on sleeping.
The day was weighing on me already.

Maggie was still asleep. I was in
her bed again, in her dead-end apartment, again, on her dead-end
street. Again. I said the previous time was going to be the last
time. Bad habits were like that.

Even with her makeup smeared by
sleep and sex, Maggie was hot in that way that bartenders knew how to
be in order to bring in tips. I eyed the black ink of the tattoos
that climbed the curve of her back, then looked away, looked down at
the floor in shame. My wife had been gone for a year already. I told
myself there was nothing to be ashamed of, the same as I did every
time I woke up next to my co-worker with a hangover and the vague
hope we'd remembered to use protection. Telling myself it was fine
didn't work most days, least of all on the anniversary of Emily's
death. She deserved better.

Maggie's arm was over my chest,
and I lifted it just enough to slide out of bed. Standing, the
headache came on worse. Physical pain was good. A headache was good.
Anything that kept me from thinking was good. I could handle physical
pain.

She rolled away, her long hair
black against her black sheets, her skin freckled and tan. Her mouth
was open just the slightest bit. It wasn't her fault we didn't get
along. We scarcely liked working together, and she didn't care about
much besides nightlife and computers and meaningless things like
that. But there was a sort of vicious chemistry between the two of us
in bed. I hated everything about the whole situation. If only I could
quit coming back.