Wanted - Dead or Alive: A Bad Boy Outlaw Romance (2 page)

"
C
heers
," I say to the girl, raising my glass, but she doesn't move an inch. Her eyebrows are knitted together in a worried expression as I walk over to the other side of the table. I want to get a better look at this mysterious girl, and I need to sit down opposite her to do this.

I’m instantly blown away by her beauty. She’s like a gorgeous, breathtaking piece of art. Her soft, wavy blonde hair spills down her back, her nose is tiny and perfectly formed, her plump lips are like those of a movie star—she’s a conventional beauty, but if you look deeper into her eyes there’s something more, something wonderful. And also something terribly sad…

She blinks a few times, as if she’s trying to rid her eyes of sleep. As she stares right at me, I almost gasp at the color of her eyes. They’re a bright, piercing blue. Brighter than I’ve ever seen on anyone. They’re stunning.
She’s
stunning. Every damn inch of her.

"Nice nap?" I ask before taking a sip of my whiskey. I make sure to look down, my face still hidden by my hoodie. I don’t want her to recognize me from the news and freak out.

"Erm," she replies, nervously looking around as if she’s trying to remember where she is. I see the sadness slumping her shoulders, and wonder what her story is. "Who are you again?"

I move in closer, just near enough so she can see the outline of my jaw, lined with stubble. "Who do you want me to be, baby doll?" I ask.

At the sound of my voice, the hairs on her arms stand on end. I’m not quite sure if she’s scared or turned on, and I don’t think she knows either. Then any passion floods from her expression, and all she’s left with is fear. I realize that I’m going to have to change my tactic if I don’t want her to run for the hills—and weirdly, I don’t. I want her to stay here, talking to me.

I slide backwards in my seat and casually sling my arm over the back of the chair. Then I smile brightly at her, trying to lessen her fear a little. “You don’t want to know my name,” I say. That’s probably the most honest sentence that I’ve spoken in a very long time.

"Why not?" she asks, her natural curiosity overshadowing everything else. She leans forward, balancing on her elbows, the frightened little mouse slowly ebbing away. Those perfect eyes drink me in and I drown in her dainty features; the perfectly soft hair, the wonderfully symmetrical face...all of it.

She is a beauty, this one. I wonder if she even knows it. She’s the sort of woman that I normally avoid, because I’d never have a shot with her. She’s just too perfect. I normally find myself with trashy, classless women. This is like a dream come true.

"You wouldn't like what you'd hear," I growl in response, emptying my glass of whiskey and setting it down on the table. "How old are you?"

I cut straight to the point. I don't have time for bullshit. If I want to sleep with this girl, I don't have time to question whether she's old enough for me and how much trouble I'll get in if I spend the night with her.

She might not be my normal standard of girl, but there’s no harm in giving it a shot.

"Eighteen," she replies, her eyes lowering in a shy expression.

I don’t think she’s lying. If she was, I’m sure she would have said twenty-one in the hope that I’d buy her a drink.

"Legal," I reply with a wide smile, trying to wind her up, and she gives me a disgusted look as a reply. I love to see her emotions run free. Her face is like an open book. She jumps up and makes to leave, but I grab her wrist, my fingers pulling her closer. Her eyes find mine as I pull her onto my lap.

The bar, which was annoyingly loud only a moment ago, is now quiet. I can feel her breath on my lips, her hands trembling under my touch.

"What's the rush?" I ask softly against her lips. They’re so damn close to mine that I could taste her right now if I wanted to. But I don't want to scare her off. I want her to stay. I need her to stay.

"You're scaring me," she whispers, her eyes resting on the bottom half of my face, which is the only part that’s clearly visible, since I'm wearing my hoodie. “Can I please see your face?”

“No,” I growl, but she doesn’t listen. She pulls up my hood until my face is revealed. I take a deep breath as her eyes explore the contours that define me. She’s drinking every inch of my face in. Grabbing her wrist, I glare hard at her, not pleased at all about her disobedience.

I wait for her to gasp, to realize who I am, but the moment doesn’t come. After a few long seconds pass, I realize that she actually doesn’t recognize me at all. A huge weight falls off my shoulders as relief floods me. She doesn’t know who I am, at least not yet, which means I’m safe for a little while longer.

“Like what you see?” I ask in a deep, cocky voice.

She smiles softly, like we’re playing some kind of game. And I guess in a way we are. Except it’s not a fair game, because I already know that I’m gonna win and that she’s gonna end up coming home with me tonight. I knew it the second I set my eyes on her.

She slips off my lap without answering the question before gathering her purse and getting ready to leave. I give her a questioning look but she won’t meet my eyes.

“Where are you going?” I ask, and she points outside.

“My car. Gotta go now. It was fun meeting you.”

I’m up before she can take another step, my body broad and tense against her slight frame. “Come with me,” I say, grabbing her hand one more time.

Her eyebrows furrow and she shakes me off. “No,” she replies. “I have to get going, anyway.”

Fuck
.

Denied, for the first time ever, and I’m none too pleased about it. This isn’t just some random chick. I really want this girl.

“Let me buy you a drink, then,” I offer, hating the fact I’ve turned into a desperate pussy for this chick. But she has a pull on me, and I want to see more…a hell of a lot more.

I want to taste her skin.

See what kind of panties she’s wearing.

Tear them off with my teeth.

She laughs, a soft and melodic sound that doesn’t belong in this seedy bar. Her light blonde hair is falling in her face, and she tucks it behind her ear like it’s nothing more than a nuisance while I’m standing there like a jackass, wishing I could be the one to touch her like that.

What the hell is it about this one?

“No, I really have to get going, but thanks,” she says in a sweet tone, pulling out of my grasp and walking towards the door. I’m left standing there like a fool, my mouth gaping as she steps outside. For some reason, I just can’t let this girl walk out on me. I need to go after her, just to get a few more precious moments with her. I can’t let go...not just yet.

I catch up to her, my hand finding the small of her back. She jumps and gives me a confused look as we both head out of the bar, but she doesn’t stop me—the first positive sign I’ve gotten so far.

“Need to walk you,” I say, barely able to hide my annoyance. “Something could happen to you out here. It’s not really safe.”

She nods, not giving me another response. The wind chimes above the doors jangle as we head outside, just in time to cover up some of the evening news report sounding from the TV above the bar.

“Dexter Hart, an outlaw, is still on the run from police...”

I slam the door swiftly behind us, tugging my hoodie back up to cover my face. It’s a small miracle that this girl hasn’t recognized me yet, and I’m not risking it now. I’ve been lucky enough; I don’t want to push that. I have to stay in the shadows.

I follow her as she heads for a shitty-looking car, which is sitting all alone in the parking lot. It’s dark, foggy and damp out here—a horrible night to be outside, let alone driving. I wonder where she’s going, but I don’t ask. She’d probably ignore me, anyway, seeing as she hasn’t really told me anything about herself yet. She must be a very private person.

“You’re just going to leave me here?” I ask her as we’re walking.

She gives me a quick, nervous look. She’s walking really fast, like she’s trying to get away from something. I hope it’s not me. “I just need to go,” she mumbles.

“Got family in town?” I ask, speeding up to keep by her side. Why can’t I just let her go? I should just turn the fuck around and walk away from this girl. I’m giving way too much attention to her; more than I’ve ever given a chick before, and I’m probably creeping her out.

She shakes her head in response, by which time we’ve reached her car. It’s freezing cold and she’s shivering in her clothes. Without thinking about it, I slide off my hoodie, revealing my face to anyone who happens to be nearby. I wrap it around her shoulders, no longer caring about being seen.

“You looked cold.” My voice sounds defensive as the words come out, and she looks surprised by my sudden kindness.

“I can’t return it,” she says with a sad smile. “I have to go now.”

“It’s all right,” I shrug, like it doesn’t matter at all. Right now I’m itching to rip the hoodie and the rest of her clothes from her body. I’m certainly not thinking about her returning it. “You sure I can’t tempt you for a drink?”

“No, I should really get going.” Her voice doesn’t sound too sure, and we both linger in the parking lot, like lost souls. “What’s your name?”

Her question takes me by surprise. She seems genuinely interested in finding this out, and I can’t help but give in, however dangerous this might be.

“Dexter,” I admit, even though I shouldn’t. Her pupils dilate, but not with recognition.

“I’m Willa,” she says.

“Willa.” The name is soft and sweet on my lips, and I wonder if she tastes the same as her name does in my mouth. Fuck, I want to know. “Sure you don’t need a place to stay, Willa? You seem a little lost.”

She looks at her car and laughs mirthlessly. It’s a miserable sound which convinces me that she really has nowhere to go. I wonder why she’s here with only that shit-heap for transport, and I wonder why she doesn’t have her own money to get a room. I wonder lots of things about this girl, and I still don’t have a single fucking clue.

“I’ll be okay,” she says. “And you, Dex, will you be okay?”

It’s then that I see a patrol car pulling into the parking lot.

Willa’s eyes spots the police too and I can see her expression turn cold. Her pupils turn almost black with terror, which causes me to do the very thing that I’ve wanted to do from the very first time that I saw her.

I grab her by the waist, put a hand over her pretty mouth, and drag her into the shadows of a dingy alley, away from prying eyes.

Shit. It had to be done, but now she probably thinks I’m a fucking serial killer…

I
don't have
time to react. One moment, I'm standing in the deserted parking lot, and the next, Dexter has pulled me into the shadowy side alley. I'm shivering, adrenaline rushing through my veins. My brain is screaming at me, begging me to stop this man from hurting me. It's no good, though—he's enormous, a wall of muscle and tattoos. I could never stop him, even if I fought with all my might.

What the hell am I going to do? How is this happening all over again?

I scream against his callused palm, my voice coming out as a small whimper, muffled by his skin. I'm really panicking now, the memory of Ryan still far too fresh in my mind.

He drags me deeper into the shadows, but strangely, it doesn’t hurt at all. There’s something in his softer movements that lead me to believe that perhaps his intention isn’t to harm me. He's almost gentle, his grasp on my body strong but not overpowering.

"Please," he begs me in the deep, gravelly voice which has come close to melting my heart so many times within the last fifteen minutes, although I couldn’t tell you why. It melts just a little more as I look up at him. "Please, just be quiet."

I try to calm down as I realize that he isn't going to hurt me. This is about something else entirely. Even though I feel more confident in my safety, it doesn’t escape my knowledge that we’re in a dirty alleyway, and that the man whose body is covering me is a complete stranger. Anything could happen to me.

Somewhere deep in the darkest recesses of my mind, I wonder what it would be like if he
did
ravage me in this filthy place. I can’t stop myself from imagining his strong, taut body thrusting against me, and an involuntary moan escapes my lips, much to my embarrassment.

But Dexter isn’t even looking at me.

I follow his gaze towards the parking lot, where the squad car has pulled up. Dexter’s grasp on my mouth gets stiffer, more rigid. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, the powerful
thump, thump, thump
betraying his stark fear even further.

What the hell is wrong? Why is he so afraid of the police? Is he a criminal?

I whimper, suddenly afraid all over again. I try to slide away from him, but he holds me more firmly.

"Shh," he whispers. "Just a moment longer, I promise."

The hand that’s wrapped possessively around my waist leaves my side for a moment, and his palm flattens against my cheek. I tense, scared of what he's going to do next. My heart starts to flutter, matching the frightened rhythm of his.

His hand slides gently down my face, stunning and soothing me all at once. He's caressing me softly, clumsily, like it's a motion that he's not used to. I remain tense at first, but once I realize that this isn't some sick prelude to a twisted game he's playing, I start to relax in his presence.

Slumping into his arms, I let him hold me, and as I nuzzle into his chest, I can feel every single one of his hard muscles pressing up against me. He’s a strong, powerful person who oozes masculinity like no one I’ve ever been close to before.

He hesitates for a moment, trying to gauge whether it’s safe to move away yet. Once he decides that I’m not going to run at the very first opportunity, his hands drop and he takes a step back.

I realize that I could use this moment to scream at the top of my lungs. There's a squad car only a few feet away, and the cops would undoubtedly come to my aid. But I can't bring myself to shout for help. I'm too engrossed in this stranger, too curious to let him go now.

Plus, my opinion of the police isn’t exactly the highest. When I first tried to report Nicolette missing, despite her insistence that I shouldn’t, they completely blew me off as some sort of hysterical idiot.

"What's going on?" I ask, my voice shaky with insecurity. I lean back against him, wondering what it is we’re hiding from. "Why did you drag me in here?"

"I needed to hide," Dexter replies sharply. He motions towards the two laughing policemen who are just now heading inside the bar. "I didn't want those two to see me."

"Why not?" I ask as my heart pounds. I'm not too sure I want to know the answer, but now it's too late. The words are already out in the open.

"You
really
don't know who I am, do you?" he asks me incredulously, and I give him a wide-eyed look as a reply. It's the first time we've met, isn't it? How am I supposed to know who he is?

"You're...Dexter," I say simply. He stares at me, stunned, like a wounded animal ready to strike back. There's vulnerability in his eyes, like I've just hurt him on some deep emotional level.

Should I know who this guy is? Oh God, is he famous?
I’ve never kept up with popular culture, so there’s no way I would know, even if he was.

"I haven't been
Dexter
in a while," he says, averting his gaze and looking down at the dirty ground beneath us. It's littered with trash and the wind is blowing leaves everywhere. It’s not really the ideal place for having a heart-to-heart. "And you don’t really have somewhere to go, do you?”

His question takes me by surprise, and it becomes my turn to look away. I'm blushing, embarrassed that I’ve been caught out; I can feel the redness creeping in my cheeks.

"Yeah, I don't really have a place to go," I admit. "My car...I ran out of gas, so I won't be able to go anywhere tonight anyway. I guess I’ll just sleep in there.”

"I see," he says.

I love that he doesn't question why I can't go further. He just accepts my answer and is now pondering where we’re going to go from here. "I'll help you, if you want. You’re more than welcome to come and stay with me. But first I have to tell you who I am."

"Okay," I whisper, giving him what I think is my most trusting look. For some reason, even though I've just met Dexter, he doesn't seem like he'd hurt me. He’s huge, ripped and has lines of ink peeking out from his sleeves, but I don't think he wants to cause me any harm. He seems too proud to be the woman-beating type. And I imagine he only beds girls that actually want him.

Just like I do. I want him so badly that it actually hurts.

Not that I’d ever say that out loud.

"Promise not to run?" he asks, and his eyes look vulnerable once again. "Promise you won't run away from me once I tell you?"

At a complete loss for words, I barely manage to nod at him. Dexter looks deep into my eyes, trying to look into my soul, trying to see if I’m telling the truth or not. We're still crouched in this alley, the harsh wind making me chilled to my bones despite the hoodie he kindly gave me earlier. I just want to get out of here, so I hope he'll get it out quickly and we can go somewhere warmer.

"I'm an outlaw," he says, his voice raw with anger and something more sinister. "I'm wanted for murder."

I stare at him blankly as the words spill out of his mouth, not quite comprehending what he's telling me. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice shaky.

Murder? Did he just say murder?

"Don't you watch the news?" Dexter gets up from the ground, looking frustrated. "I'm on every damn channel. Dexter Hart. A fucking murderer."

I stare at him for a while longer, and slowly, snippets of the news I'd heard over the past few days on the radio come trickling back.

I haven’t watched television for a very long time, so I’ve never seen his photo, but now that he’s said it, his name
is
familiar. Dexter Hart. A criminal on the run, I must’ve seen it sometime yesterday. He’s wanted for murder. The police issued a statement saying that he’s killed before and will do it again. This guy has caused a statewide manhunt, and there’s even a financial reward for finding him.

A reward that could be mine with a simple scream for help.

Dex and I stare at one another, each of us thinking about our options.

And then I make my decision.

I open my mouth to scream as loud as I can.

But no sound comes out, because Dexter grabs me and pulls me back, his mouth firmly latching onto mine, devouring me in a forbidden kiss.

Oh, god…