Page 19 of Captive Audience
Would she be free once our night was through?
Thosewere the ones that mattered.
The exterminator card? Aidan’s idea of a joke. I’d tossed one into my wallet ages ago and forgotten about it, but it’d come in handy tonight.
“Are you ready?” I extended my hand.
Asha smiled and placed her warm palm inside mine. Just like that. Trusting as a kitten, with no clue where tonight would lead.
Her skin felt smooth and supple, her bones slender and fragile. One squeeze could crush them, but that wasn’t my intent. I’d hurt Asha in other ways, though. There was no avoiding that.
I didn’t feel guilty for what I was about to do. Not even a little. Not when I’d buried my brother and the person responsible walked free. If putting Asha in an impossible position was what it took to get justice, then so be it.
I wasn’t a good man. But tonight, I would be very good to Asha and give her exactly what she asked for. Exactly what we both needed.
And come morning, the spell would break, and she’d never look at me the same way again.
But she’d still be mine.
12
ASHA
Rook led us out of the bar hand in hand like this was a date and not the start of something wildly irresponsible. We’d barely walked a block when we reached the bright-red two-wheeled death trap parked in a motorcycle bay.
Uh-oh. “Is that your ride?”
He nodded. “You like motorbikes?”
“I’ve never been on one.”
“Then let me introduce you to the Ducati Panigale V4 S,” he said, sounding like a proud father. “Two hundred and fifteen horsepower and a top speed nudging three hundred miles per hour.”
Oh, goody. Mr.Dark and Dangerouswas also a speed freak. Still, it was cute how he geeked out over a bike.
“Wow. Only three hundred miles an hour? How do you get anywhere on time?”
As we drew nearer the machine that, despite being sex on two wheels, wouldn’t be the most breathtaking thing between my legs tonight, a young guy standing beside it straightened his posture.
Rook handed the baggy-jean- and ball-cap-wearing teen what looked like several Benjamins. “Good job, Colin. Make sure your ma gets half of that.”
The kid lit up like Rook had just made his year.
“Will do, Mr. O’Connell. I mean, thank you, sir.”
Colin hurried off with a spring in his step as if he couldn’t wait to tell his friends what he’d been up to.
“You pay someone to watch your bike?” I asked.
Rook lifted one shoulder and returned his wallet to his breast pocket. “He’s the son of one of my…staff. I promised his ma I’d help keep him out of trouble.”
Was this guy for real? Next I’d find out he rescued shelter dogs and was working on a cure for cancer.
On the seat of the bike sat a matte-black helmet and a man-size leather jacket. Rook held the jacket open, and I slipped my arms through. It swallowed me whole, soft and warm and smelling faintly of leather and his cologne.
I might’ve sighed. Loudly.
There was just one problem. “Where am I supposed to sit on this crotch rocket?”
