Page 13 of T-Bone
“You’re a dead bitch,” he snarled and lunged forward again but I was there quickly, and grabbed the asshole by his hair and yanked him backwards.
“Pick on somebody your own size, asshole.” With a smile I didn’t feel, I pulled my arm back and let two jabs loose before I stood and pressed my boot to his chest.
He smiled at me and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what you do to me.”
My boot sank deeper against his chest. “Yeah, and why is that?”
“Because this ain’t about you or your MC. This is a message that the bitch needs to hear. We know she’s here and we know about the kid.” His grin widened when Faith sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, we know, and three years won’t erase that blood debt. Three hundred years won’t erase it.” He looked so fucking smug, so sure of himself.
“We have to go,” Faith said, her eyes wide as emergency sirens tore through the early evening air. “Now.”
I watched the asshole on the ground and felt my anger bubble up. Faith didn’t need me angry on her behalf but I fucking was. This MC had taken her whole fucking world, they were the reason she wore that haunted look behind her pretty green eyes, and they wanted to scare her. “If it doesn’t matterwhat I do to you,” I said before I raised my foot and stomped his face twice until he passed out.
Faith grunted again but instead of a lecture or judgement, she gave me a shove towards the door. “We have to go right now, T-Bone.” She was insistent but I didn’t miss the look she shot at the unconscious men we left behind.
Quickly we got on my bike, and I took off fast, desperate to put as much distance between us and the studio as possible. The wail of the sirens grew fainter, which was a good sign but the cough that shook my body and the whole damn bike was a bad sign. I shook it off and kept going but another fit struck me, and I slowed down.
Faith tapped my shoulder and shouted, “Red Rock Roadside Hotel.”
***
Ten minutes later we walked into her room which was covered in papers. Every surface was covered in case files, photos, and handwritten notes. “What’s all this?”
“Research,” she said simply and kicked off her boots. “You need to rinse off your face. Eyes, nose and mouth,” she instructed, and pointed to the slightly open door I assumed was the bathroom.
I stared at her for a long moment, barely suppressing a smile. “You’re bossy.”
She shrugged. “Seriously, do it now, T-Bone.”
I could’ve argued but my throat burned like a son of a bitch, so I went in and rinsed my face and my hair in cold water. The relief was instant, so I rinsed off a few more times before I caught my reflection in the mirror. Traces of soot still stained my cheeks, and a bruise was forming just under my left eye. I was alittle banged up, but I was fine and so was Faith, and that’s what mattered.
It was clear now that she was right about the little girl. The Ghost Riders wouldn’t have come to the studio otherwise. They seemed to think she was alive too, which meant we needed to find her first.
But first I needed to inform my MC.
Chapter Nine
Faith
Gemma was alive and now I had proof. Okay, maybe not proof but if the biker gang thought she was alive, there was a reason. Right? They were bikers and criminals, so they could just be wrong, that was always a possibility. As a seasoned homicide detective I knew there were several obvious answers that had nothing to do with Gemma, but something told me I was right. Those thoughts had run through my mind on a nonstop loop while T-Bone was in the bathroom trying to recover from the smoke he very likely inhaled during the fight.
I tried not to think about it as I peeled the biker babe outfit from my body. He was so big and so powerful, the restrained power he used was more tantalizing than I expected. I wasn’t one of those women who saw men fighting as some sign of alpha dominance, it didn’t appeal to me in the least. At least, not until tonight. Every jab, every hook landed with pinpoint precision, striking the target efficiently. Making a big impact.
“Stop it,” I told myself and shook off the faint signs of arousal. Now was not the time and T-Bone was definitely not the man. Each time my mind wandered, I reminded myself that this was all based on circumstances, that I only thought about him because he was here. He was close. He was on this journey of truth with me, and yeah sure, he was hot as hell and built like a brick shithouse. Big and commanding, and bossy. Very fucking bossy.
Focus on Gemma and Ashley.
I started to unfasten the bustier, which did wonderful things for my boobs, and stopped. “Ashley.” If she knew Rachel or Amber Grey, there was a chance they had photos together. “That’s it. Photos!” I rushed over to the sofa where the photos from Ashley’s crime scene sat. Photos were on the walls, the tables and pinned to a corkboard in a small office-like area. They weren’t the focal point of the photos, but they were there, in the background, barely visible.
I moved to the bed because the light was better and pulled up the magnifying glass app on my phone, and slowly searched all the visible photos. I heard the door open behind me, but T-Bone never appeared, and he hadn’t said a word. But my body knew exactly what he was doing—watching me—because I felt it all over. Goosebumps prickled my skin and suddenly it was too hot and too cold in the room. Finally, the silence became too much, and I turned to look at him over my shoulder and the look I saw stopped my breath.
His gray eyes darkened to melted metal as they raked over my backside, which I now realized was partially exposed. His jaw clenched tight, and his hands balled into fists at his sides as if he was using all of that considerable restraint to hold back his need for me.
I felt my cheeks get hot and I rushed to fill the quiet before my thoughts turned to what I could do about that heat in his gaze. “I was about to change when I started thinking about Rachel and Amber and the connection to Ashley.” I spoke fast, too fast, but I couldn’t stop myself.
T-Bone didn’t respond when I turned to face him, if anything his gaze darkened, and his focus shifted from my face to my cleavage.
“It’s just a body,” I sighed, annoyed by my body’s response to him especially when I was wearing so little. “Grow up.” I wasn’t ashamed of my body, why would I be when I worked out regularly, ate right, and took care of myself?
