Shooting Dirty (9 page)

She seemed impressed. “So you destroy buildings?”

“Mostly houses, or just rooms. I do tear-outs in preparation for remodels. Jackhammering concrete, trash removal. That sort of thing.”

“Where are you from?”

“This area. I live in Coachella now.”

He wasn’t the type of man mothers usually wanted around their daughters, but Renata’s attitude was welcoming and friendly. Maybe he’d earned some brownie points by finding Jamie. Ace supposed that any guy, even him, was a step up from Shane.

They chatted about inconsequential things for a few minutes. Ace didn’t mention Patrick or the paper with the crude drawing, but he told her about Jamie falling in the eggs. Renata laughed along with him, slapping her thigh.

They were still laughing when Janelle walked in. She still had her work make-up on, with a loose dress and cowboy boots. Her brow was furrowed in concern. She probably hadn’t expected him to be cozying up to her mother. “Where’s Jamie?”

“In his room,” Renata said.

“He’s okay?”

“He’s fine.”

Janelle strode forward and grabbed a plastic cup. Ignoring the lemonade container, she filled her cup with pale pink wine from a box in the fridge. Then she closed the door, looking back and forth between them.

Ace rose to his feet. “I’d better go.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Renata said.

“Thanks for the lemonade.”

“My pleasure.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Janelle said. She followed him through the door and stopped to talk in the front yard. “Where was he?”

“Slab City.”

“Doing what?”

Ace told her.

“Was he drunk again?”

“No.”

She sipped her wine and shuddered. “Ugh. I hate wine. Do you want it?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Since when?”

“Since Skye’s mother died driving drunk.”

Her lips parted in sympathy. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Ace didn’t have a response for that. So he said nothing.

She dumped out the wine and set her cup next to a pink flamingo lawn ornament. “Thank you for picking up Jamie, and not...taking advantage of the situation.”

He studied her for a long moment, a war waging inside him. She must have known he hadn’t acted out of the goodness of his heart. He’d done it to score points with her, and maybe to assuage his guilt a little. He wanted to keep seeing her, which was stupid. The timing couldn’t have been worse for him to pursue a relationship, and she wasn’t one-fuck material. They had too much history between them.

“No problem,” he said, heading toward his truck.

She accompanied him to the driveway. He didn’t think he had a chance to hook up with her at her mother’s house, but he wasn’t in a rush to leave. He leaned against the wheel well, enjoying the sight of her pretty face in the moonlight.

He preferred her without makeup, but only because he liked the feel of bare skin and the taste of unpainted lips. He didn’t care much for perfume, either. He was a natural kind of guy. When he was going down on a woman, he wanted her to smell like pussy, not a fucking bouquet of flowers.

She crossed her arms over her chest, seeming uneasy.

“Did you grow up here?” he asked, gesturing to the house.

“No, I was born in Texas. We left when I was eight.”

That explained her mom’s Southern accent, and Janelle’s fondness for cowgirl style. “Why did you come to California?”

“To get away from my dad. He was abusive.”

“To you, or your mom?”

“Mostly her. He got me once when I stepped between them.” She touched her cheek, as if remembering the blow.

Ace put her father on his mental hit list. “Where is he now?”

“Still there, I imagine. My mom thought he might come after us, but he never did. She met my stepfather and remarried less than six months after we moved. I think she wanted his protection. He was a cop.”

He froze at this news. A cop?

“Don’t worry,” she said in a bitter tone. “He’s dead now.”

“Was he good to her?”

“No.”

“Better or worse than your father?”

“Better to her. Worse to me.”

Ace figured she was talking about sexual abuse. Although his mind tried to reject her admission, to change it into something less disturbing, he could read the truth in her expression. There was pain and shame in her eyes, along with the unshakable resilience he’d seen from the start. Fury welled within him at the thought of her being mistreated. He wanted to make any man who’d hurt her pay—himself included.

He stepped forward and cupped her chin, brushing his thumb over the same cheek she’d just touched. She grasped his wrist, but she didn’t pull away. She stared up at him, waiting for him to speak.

“I’d kill him for you, if he was alive.”

“That’s...very comforting.”

He smiled at her sarcasm. If she felt safe enough to joke around with him, they were making progress.

She had good reason to be wary of him. He was a dangerous man in a desperate situation. He’d done bad things to her, and imagined doing plenty more. She was a strong, sensible woman who’d been through a lot. She deserved better than him.

But when he lowered his head, she tilted hers back, as if she wasn’t opposed to letting him ease her troubles, just for a little while...

He covered her mouth with his, happy to oblige.

Chapter Ten

Janelle couldn’t believe she was doing this.

She couldn’t believe she’d opened up to him about her father, and her stepfather. His reaction wasn’t what she’d expected. He didn’t seem surprised by her background. Abuse was practically a prerequisite to her profession—or so people thought. She’d met a wide range of dancers and plenty of them came from nice, quiet families. Tragic childhoods were common in the sex industry, but not every girl who’d been preyed on became a stripper. If they did, there’d be a club on every corner.

Ace didn’t press her for details or recoil in disgust. He appeared agitated, but not turned off. She imagined he would have killed her stepfather without blinking an eye. She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Kissing Ace would introduce a whole new host of problems and not solve any old ones, but she couldn’t resist. He’d gone out of his way to help her and find Jamie. He’d charmed her mother somehow. He’d refused to take her up on the offer for sex. She shivered, remembering his words on the phone.

Don’t talk about fucking me unless your pussy’s wet and you’re hungry for my cock.

His mouth descended on hers and all rational thought fled. He didn’t waste any time easing her into it. He just backed her up against his truck, slid his hand into her hair and filled her mouth with his tongue.

She gasped at his bold manner, melting against him. He tasted like citrus and smoke. Her heart pounded with excitement and her knees went weak. She had to twine her arms around his neck for balance. He changed the angle of the kiss, making a low sound in the back of his throat. It was as if he’d been waiting for this moment, fantasizing about it. He finally had her where he wanted her, and he was going to keep her there.

Janelle kissed him back with breathless excitement, her tongue seeking his. There was no softness in him, other than his mouth. His chest was like a brick wall, his arms rock-solid. His hand on her cheek had felt scratchy, callused. The scrape of his stubble chafed her skin. She moaned at the thought of his rough fingertips on the rest of her body, stimulating her nipples and stroking her clit.

Don’t talk about fucking me unless your pussy’s wet...

It was.

He made a fist in her hair, taking her mouth over and over again. His cock jutted against her belly, thick and hard. She was hungry for it, all right. She dug her fingernails into his broad shoulders and tilted her hips, encouraging him.

Breaking the kiss, he glanced back at the house. They were cloaked in shadow, but the driveway was hardly private. Anyone could see their entwined figures. Janelle moved her hands to his chest, knowing she should push him away. When he tried to kiss her again, she turned her head to the side.

“Let’s go somewhere,” he said, pressing his lips to her exposed neck.

She couldn’t. Not tonight.

“I want to fuck,” he said, as if she might be confused about his intent.

She laughed softly, enjoying his blunt approach. With a strangled growl, he shoved his hands under her dress and cupped her bottom, lifting her against him. She was wearing plain cotton panties, nothing fancy. He slid her cleft along the length of his cock until she whimpered with pleasure.

“Are you wet?” he asked, watching her face.

She bit down on her lower lip. “Yes.”

He moved around to the passenger side of the truck, away from the house lights. Then he pushed her arms over her head, as if he knew about her dark fantasies. Encircling her wrists with one hand, he held her there, trapped against the door. Her breasts strained against the buttons at the front of her dress. He snuck his free hand under the hem, palming her pussy.

She trembled at his touch, nearly swooning. She remembered this morning’s steamy solo session and groaned. It was too intense. If he kept going, she’d die of pleasure.

He kept going.

Stripping her panties down to her upper thighs, he brought his lips to hers again. It was an open-mouthed kiss, shallow and erotic.

Her entire focus was below the waist, on the sensitive flesh throbbing between her legs. She was exposed beneath her dress, cool air caressing her bare skin.

“I want to tie you up like this,” he said, breathing heavily. “I want to suck on your nipples and eat that pretty pussy until you scream.”

She panted against his open mouth, needing release. She was on edge, uneasy, desperate to drift away. But his grip kept her grounded and his gaze pinned her in place. She’d never let anyone get this close before. She’d never let anyone hold her down.

His fingertips brushed her bare sex. His expression grew pained as he found her wet, swollen lips. He slid his middle finger between them, plumbing her slick pussy.

She panicked, despite her arousal. He was penetrating her, overpowering her, examining her face. Their encounter had escalated too quickly. What had been a sexy fantasy in the safety of her bedroom felt scary in real life. She tried to yank her arms free and he frowned, his finger buried deep inside her. “Do you want me to stop?”

She couldn’t speak. She felt trapped and helpless, mute with fear.

He withdrew his finger and she struggled in his grip, bucking against him. Finally he let go of her wrists. She swung out with her open hand and connected with his cheek. He jerked backward, his eyes flashing with anger.

She stared at him in horror.

“What the fuck?” he asked in a furious whisper. He was pissed off, but discreet enough to keep his voice down.

When it became clear that he wasn’t going to hit her back, she tugged her panties into place. She wiped her nose against her knuckles, shaking from tension. Her eyes burned with tears and her palm stung from the impact. She was a freak and a screw up, unable to handle the mildest form of restraint.

“I asked you if you wanted me to stop,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

He touched the red mark on his cheek, his jaw clenched. “You woke me up when you called earlier. Did you know that?”

She did. His voice had been gravelly from sleep.

“I was having a very dirty dream, and I had a raging hard-on. But I got up and went to look for your smartass kid anyway. I even turned down your offer for sex because it made me feel like a john. Then I told you I wanted to fuck you, and you didn’t say yes, so I figured I’d pet your pussy for a few minutes and go home with a hot memory to jack off to. Instead I get slapped for my trouble.”

Janelle wasn’t sure what to say. They were at her mother’s house, for Christ’s sake. The front door was less than twenty feet away. She shouldn’t have let it go so far, and she certainly shouldn’t have struck him. He hadn’t been too rough or aggressive. She had no excuse for lashing out at him.

She took a deep breath, staring up at the stars. “I’ve never let anyone restrain me before.”

He gave her a measured look. “You seemed like you were into it.”

She flushed, picturing herself tied up with the vibrator buzzing. “I’ve been fantasizing about it. About...you.”

That confession quieted him. He swallowed hard, studying her.

“I’m not good at giving up control.”

“But you want to?”

She shrugged, her heart pounding. “I might not be able to.”

His shoulders relaxed and he appeared calm again. “We can work on it. Or not. I don’t have to hold you down if it scares you.”

Tears filled her eyes at his easy acceptance. She brushed them away. Damned stress and...hormones. She must be PMSing. That would explain her heightened state of arousal, too. She always got super horny right before her period.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

She usually slept in on Saturdays. “Jamie’s got a soccer game around noon.”

“Can I come?”

“Do you like soccer?”

“I like you.”

She ducked her head to hide her smile. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had told her that. “What was your dream about?”

“My dream?”

“The dirty one,” she prompted.

“Oh. It was about you.”

“Doing what?”

“Sucking my cock,” he said in a low voice.

Her face heated, though she was no stranger to this activity. Unlike bondage, she knew blowjobs.

He stepped forward and brushed his lips over hers. “I’m going home now.”

“Enjoy yourself.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up as he climbed into his truck. He started the engine and drove away. She sighed, imagining him fisting his cock. Groaning her name and spurting over his tattooed knuckles.

Mercy
.

She walked up the front steps, her cheeks warm. She needed to be careful with him. He was hot, and exciting, and actually kind of nice—for a professional criminal.

To her surprise, her mom was still in the kitchen. Janelle glanced down the hallway. The door to her old bedroom was closed. Just the sight of it made her chest tighten with unease. Living here was going to be a challenge.

“Are you sleeping in the sunroom?” her mother asked. She looked tired. Worrying about Jamie weighed on her, too.

Janelle sat down across from her. “I guess so.”

“We can move Jamie there instead, and you can have your old room.”

“No,” she said, shuddering. “I don’t want it.”

“Tell me about your boyfriend.”

Janelle started to say he wasn’t her boyfriend and thought better of it. “He’s new.”

“He must like you a lot, to go after Jamie.”

She didn’t want to talk about Ace. If her mother knew how they’d met, she’d be horrified.

“It’s good to have you here,” Renata said quietly. “I hoped you’d visit more after Gary died.”

Janelle felt like a cold hand had squeezed her heart. It pumped faster, filled with blood and pain and secrets. She’d never told her mother what Gary had done. She’d avoided him and Renata as much as possible.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to visit,” Janelle said.

“Of course I did.”

“You sent me away,” she pointed out.

When Janelle was fourteen, she’d been a handful, like Jamie. She’d rebelled by falling in with the wrong crowd and sleeping around with boys who treated her badly. Her mother had sent her to her aunt’s house in Brawley.

Janelle hadn’t fared much better there. She’d met Shane, gotten pregnant and dropped out her senior year, but at least she’d been safe from Gary.

“I did it to protect you,” her mother said.

Janelle stared at her in confusion. Then the puzzle pieces fell into place and an awful realization dawned on her. “You knew,” she said in a hushed tone, unable to fathom it. “You knew he abused me.”

“I suspected.”

Janelle was stunned by the revelation. This was so fucked up. She wanted to flee from the kitchen and run screaming from the house. Her eyes filled with tears for the scared little girl she’d been. “Why?”

“Before my diagnosis, I was working a lot of night shifts, and I was exhausted. One night I came home early and Gary was in your room. He said he was just checking on you, but he acted strange. The next day, I asked if he’d hurt you.”

Janelle blinked the tears from her eyes, remembering.

“You said no.”

“I was afraid,” Janelle said. She’d also been
ashamed
, and convinced that the abuse was her fault. He applied his perverse attentions in a courtly manner, coaxing and coercing her rather than overpowering her.

“I kept an eye on him after that. I caught him outside your door again about a week later.”

“Did you confront him?”

She shook her head, her fleshy chin wobbling with emotion. “I blamed myself. I hadn’t been feeling well. I did my best to satisfy him, but...he seemed disinterested.”

Janelle felt sick. Absolutely sick.

“I knew you’d be better off at Jackie’s.”

“Why not divorce him?”

Renata frowned as if the option had never occurred to her. Janelle’s biological father had threated to kill her mother many times before they left Texas. Renata had escaped from one monster only to find another. The fact that Gary had been a police officer made the situation even more precarious.

“I’m not strong like you, Janelle,” she said. “I never have been.”

Janelle looked away, her throat tight. She couldn’t hate her. Gary didn’t deserve forgiveness, but perhaps her mother did.

They stayed up for another hour, and Renata drank several glasses of wine. Janelle helped put her to bed. She turned off the lamp and studied her mother’s prone form, uncertain how to process the night’s tumult. She closed the door gently and walked away. In the sunroom, she curled up on the cot, thinking.

Setting boundaries with men had always been difficult for her. She’d said no to her stepfather, but he hadn’t listened, so she’d stopped protesting. He’d threated to kill her mother one minute and told her he loved her the next. She wasn’t strong enough to fend him off physically, and she was afraid he’d become violent if she tried. Disconnecting from her body had been a very effective self-defense mechanism.

When she couldn’t fight, she could drift.

The abuse had gone on for less than a year, but it still haunted her, complicating her relationships with men and sex. As an adult, she’d tried to make clear choices. Going home with a man meant yes, and she didn’t change her mind after they started. She was afraid they’d ignore her protests, like her stepfather had. Instead of communicating her desires or being an active partner, she drifted. She drifted even when she was enjoying herself. It was an automatic response, like breathing.

Tonight, however, she’d been unable to drift. Although she hadn’t found her voice, she hadn’t remained passive, either. She’d struck Ace the way she’d wanted to strike her stepfather, and that motorcycle club member, and every other man who’d hurt her.

It wasn’t an appropriate reaction. Ace hadn’t deserved the slap. Even so, she felt pretty good about their exchange. She’d opened up to him, and he’d listened. He hadn’t left angry. They were a work in progress. He still wanted to fuck her, and maybe even play some kinky games with her.

She might let him.

Smiling, she tucked the blanket around herself and drifted—into sleep.