Wicked Ride (5 page)

“She’s on the rag,”
Jacob mutters. “So I’m getting a dick suck instead.”

“Nice,” McKay mutters
sarcastically, and his eyes slide down to mine. “You want to go
with him?”

His first words spoken to me.
Even if he hadn’t
voiced a single syllable, he could have looked at me with that same
question in his eyes and I would have known just what he was asking.

My expression back to him is
pointed. Eyebrows knitted with tension, biting hard on my lower lip
with unease and eyes filled with a desperate plea for help, I still
manage to say, “Yes.”

Because that’s
what Magnus would expect of me.

McKay stares at me for a long
moment, seemingly undecided as to which answer he should deem as the
truth. Even though there’s
nothing he can do to stop my fate, I hope he accepts my silent answer
as the one I mean, so he knows I want nothing to do with this creep.
I wonder if he can also glean just by my look that I would have
gladly gone into that room with him.

“Auralie.” I hear
Magnus’ cultured voice behind McKay, who is so tall and broad
shouldered I hadn’t seen Magnus walk up. “What’s
going on?”

Before I can answer, McKay turns
to Magnus and says, “She’s
not feeling well. You can take one look at her and tell.”

Thank God he didn’t
give my “period” lie to Magnus. Magnus would demand an
inspection for proof because he’d be pissed I was messing up
his grand display of showmanship and superiority.

Magnus’
gaze cuts to me, and in a tight voice that he tries to pass off as
concerning but doesn’t quite make it, he asks, “Auralie,
love… is that true?”

I give a slight nod, trying to
look pathetically sick, but I know I come off as terrified of how
this situation has gotten out of control. When I risk a look up to
McKay, I see that muscle in his cheek jumping harder as he takes in
the fear in my eyes.

With a surprising amount of
humility that I wouldn’t
have guessed this big, powerful man would possess, but with complete
manipulation that I admire, he turns to Magnus and says, “With
all due respect, sir… perhaps you should let her rest tonight.
She’s put on quite a show the last few nights, and you’ve
admirably whipped up everyone in here. It’s been a real treat
to watch for sure. And if she doesn’t make an appearance
tonight, it’s only going to increase every man’s appetite
for her.”

Magnus looks at McKay. For
someone who regularly takes advantage of and manipulates people, he
still immediately buys into the flattery that McKay gives to him. His
chest puffs out a bit, and he says, “You
have an excellent point.”

Jacob’s
hand falls away as he growls in frustration. McKay looks right at me,
but he says, “Jacob… why don’t you and Heather
head into the Orgy Room? I’m sure she’ll make things
better for you.”

“Yeah, fine,” he
mutters, but as he reaches past me to grab Heather’s hand, who
looks just as happy to be going with Jacob as she was with
McKay—weird girl—he looks to Magnus and says, “I
want another crack at her though before you make the sale. I’m
going to make a serious bid you don’t want to miss.”

Magnus smiles magnanimously and
says, ‘Of course,
Jacob.”

Without another word, Jacob and
Heather head off down the hall. I’m
left alone with a man I despise and a man who I feel an intense
connection with even though we’ve hardly spoken at all.

Magnus reaches a hand out and
asks, “And you are,
sir?”

“Logan McKay,”
McKay—well, not McKay—says as he shakes Magnus’
hand. While his tone is warm and inviting to further conversation, I
can tell by the look in his eyes that he despises Magnus as much as I
do.

Logan.

I like that a lot.

“And what exactly do you do
for a living?” Magnus inquires politely, although I think it’s
overly rude. He’s asking because he wants to know if Logan will
be a serious suitor for me. If he’s got the bank to make a good
bid on my poor, underused vagina.

But I already know the answer to
this because while I know Logan is intense, sexy, deep, concerned,
protective, and commanding, I also know he’s
a simple man who lives a very simple existence outside of The Silo. I
can read it all over him loud and clear.

“I’m a fishing
guide,” he says, confirming my instinct as he releases Magnus’
hand. “I guide fly-fishing trips, mostly on the Snake River,
but sometimes I’ll go over to the Yellowstone or Gros Ventre.”

“Really?” Magnus says
with interest. “I’ve always wanted to try fly fishing. I
think I’d be very good at it.”

I roll my eyes, seeing that Logan
notices as those gorgeous lips tip upward slightly as he looks back
to Magnus. “I’d
be happy to take you out any time you’d like.”

“Let’s go tomorrow,”
he immediately demands.

Weird how I can read so much from
Logan’s posture and
eyes. He clearly doesn’t want anything to do with Magnus. The
offer was just politeness with a suspicion Magnus was not the type of
guy who would really go fishing, but he still says, “We would
have to leave early. Six AM? You’d have to meet me at the South
Fork boat ramp.”

“Then I should get my
little dove home so I can get to bed,” he says with the
exuberance of a little child trying to play grown up. “I’ll
Google directions to the boat ramp and see you there.”

God, he’s
so freakin’ weird.

Logan’s
eyes slide back to mine. This is not noticed by Magnus because he’s
reaching for my hand as he says, “Come, Auralie. If you’re
not feeling well, you probably need some rest too.”

I tip my head to the right a
little and give Logan a smile that is nothing but gratitude for
saving me from the terrible situation I was walking into.

Granted…
it only makes me safe for tonight as no telling what Magnus will make
me do tomorrow, but I’ve gotten a reprieve and I’m
grateful for it.

I let Magnus pull me back toward
the exit door, risking a glance over my shoulder back at Logan. He
watches me carefully until I round a bend in the hall. When I can’t
see him anymore, I look at Magnus’ stiffened back. He’s
definitely pissed at me.

I have to trot to keep up with
his long, skinny legs. As soon as we step out into the crisp evening
air, he releases my hand and rounds on me. “You
better not be messing things up, Auralie.”

I’d
like to say Magnus scares me, but he doesn’t. He knows I’ll
do my part when required because he knows I have no choice.

“I’m really not
feeling well, Magnus,” I say apologetically. To smooth his
ruffled feathers, I point out, “You wouldn’t want me
puking on a potential sale, would you?”

His pinched expression goes lax,
and he gives me a curt nod in acceptance. “Well,
it’s not like this really hurts anything. I’m not going
to be making a quick decision on this. I want the absolute top dollar
for you, so not only do we have to rile up their horny little senses,
but I also need to make sure I’m waving you under the proper
noses. Everyone who is a paid member in there can afford what I’m
going to ask, but not everyone will want you. I need to focus on
those who do.”

Logan does
,
I think bitterly. I not only see it in his face, but I also feel it
in my bone marrow when he looks at me.

Which makes me wonder…

“Why in the world are you
going fishing?” I ask curiously, because Magnus in his fine
custom suits and gel-slicked hair has never struck me as a person who
would want to go fishing. He’s too… prissy.

“To schoomze, of course,”
he says simply as I follow him to his rental car. A Porsche something
or other, because he has to maintain an image.

“Schmooze?” I ask
astounded. Surely, he has to know just by looking at Logan that he
doesn’t have that type of money.

“Oh, I don’t expect
that yokel to bid on you,” he says primly. “But I’ve
been watching him, and he’s well connected in that
establishment. He’s been a member since its inception according
to someone I talked to last night, and thus he’s going to be my
in as to who I should be focusing my attentions on.”

Figures.

He’s
going to use the “man of my very own dreams” to sell me
to someone else.

Logan

By six AM, I have everything set
up to take Magnus fishing, and I’m
waiting patiently at the back of my boat trailer for him to arrive.
I’m almost betting he doesn’t show, and it’s going
to piss me off because I actually had shit I had to do today that was
far more important than guiding his ass down the Snake River.

Nothing I hate worse than taking
a prissy douche fishing. I bet he won’t
even touch a fish if he’s lucky enough to catch one.

My sixteen-foot drift boat sits
in the shallow water off the bank of the South Fork ramp, held in
place against the current by a pyramid shaped anchor I dropped to the
rocky bottom. I then pulled my truck and trailer up to a parking
spot, where two local kids will pick it up and move it to another
ramp a few miles downriver where we’ll
end up porting at the end of the trip. I pay them ten bucks each to
do this, which doesn’t sound like a lot, but there is so much
fishing in this area and so many one-man crews like me who operate
that they can work at this solidly for eight hours a day moving
vehicles and make pretty good money for a high school kid.

I hear the crunch of gravel under
tires and look up from my brooding toward the river to see a black
Porsche pulling in. Nice car, but he’s
still a douche.

Magnus gives me a little wave as
he pulls in beside my truck. I push away from the boat trailer and
start walking down toward my boat, not even waiting for him. I hear
his car door open, then close, and the sound of his feet crunching
over the gravel to catch up to me.

“Good morning,” he
says pleasantly from behind me.

“Mornin’,” I
say, forcing a jovial tone to my voice that I’m just not
feeling. I peer over my shoulder at him and see he’s weirdly
dressed in a fancy-type tracksuit in black with silver racing stripes
down the legs. It’s apparent he sees my look of amusement at
his outfit as he gives me a smarmy grin and says, “I didn’t
have much in the way of clothing options. Afraid all I brought with
me to Wyoming was fancy suits and a few of my workout outfits. Left
all my jeans and cargo pants at home back in New York.”

I call bullshit because I can
tell that prissy motherfucker abhors the idea of sweat. I’d
cut off my left nut and hand it to him if he’s ever worked out
a day in his life… skinny, pasty, weak motherfucker.

“You’re good,”
I force myself to say lightly. “Doesn’t matter what you
wear, really. Except… you’re going to need a hat. Once
that sun gets up, it will burn your head if you’re not
careful.”

“I didn’t bring one,”
he says worriedly as we reach the boat.

“No worries,” I say
as I stop at the bow, which rests only about two feet off the bank in
water that’s only a few inches deep. “Let me just help
you in, and I’ll get one for you.”

With my right hand on the bow, I
hold my hand out to Magnus in an offer to steady him as he climbs in
the boat. But he doesn’t
make a move, looking worriedly back and forth between the water and
what I’m guessing are very expensive and never before worn
tennis shoes.

“I have to get in the
water?” he hesitantly asks.

“Yup. Although you can take
your shoes and socks off to get in so they don’t get wet,”
I explain, not thinking he’ll be that big of a sissy.

But to my surprise, he sits down
on the gravel and pulls the fuckers right off. With his pale, bony
bare feet, he gets back up, hobbles over the gravel, and lets me help
hoist his body into the boat. I pick up his shoes and socks and hand
them to him, trying hard to keep my facial expressions pleasant and
not downright disgusted.

Because everything about this man
disgusts me.

I had a crappy night of sleep.
You’d think I’d
have slept great since I’d succeeded in getting Auralie out of
something she clearly didn’t want to do. I just assumed she’d
had some experience with oral since she sucked dick like a champ, but
she was clearly wigged out about having Jacob put his mouth down on
her unmentionables.

I was wigged out by it too, which
is utterly ridiculous. It smacks of jealousy, which is an emotion I
haven’t felt in
years. In my life, I’ve been envious of many things.

People’s
ability to handle stress.

Other people’s
skills.

Hell…
other people’s jobs.

Love.

Security.

Season tickets to the Bulls.

A speedy metabolism.

The ability to yodel.

Whatever.

But not once in the past two
years has jealousy even flitted through my senses when it comes to
sex and a woman. That’s
because in order to be jealous, you have to desire something as if
it’s precious to you, and while it’s true I desire
Auralie’s body, I most certainly don’t desire the purity
of it in a way that makes me proprietary.

As I said…
don’t care if she’s a virgin.

Don’t
care she’s sucked other guys’ dicks at The Silo.

Okay, well…
that does bug me, but whatever.

The point is I shouldn’t
care one bit if another man touches her, but for some reason last
night, the thought of Jacob having her pissed me off so badly, I was
on the verge of taking Heather in that Orgy Room and fucking her
pussy with my mouth right beside Auralie so she could see what she
was missing.

It was utter madness, and it
actually frightens me the lengths I was willing to go to try to foil
Magnus’ plan to
display Auralie out like a piece of meat and let another man touch
what isn’t mine but I wished to hell was.

I shake my head and try to get my
head in the game. Because while I have absolutely no desire to spend
the next four hours with this jackass—which is how long the
trip will take downriver—I most certainly am going to use this
opportunity to try to find out exactly what his plans are. The
“rumor” has
been heavy that Magnus intends to sell her virginity, and I say rumor
only because I haven’t heard it straight from his mouth. He’s
told other people—namely Bridger—but he’s not made
a formal type of announcement.