Sweet Ride (12 page)

This doesn’t stop her
from having a good time. Hell no, my girl continues to dance by
herself, shaking her sweet, sweet ass enticing anyone who’s
interested. Everyone else can just fuck right off because no one else
is having her but me. I need this girl so fucking badly.

“Gotta go,
sweetheart,” I say to Rhonda. She pouts for a second, but turns
around and quickly finds a new dance partner, easily forgetting about
me. I walk over to my sexy blonde haired angel and wrap my arms
around her warm body from behind. “Bella, you’re so much better
than him, let me have you. I fucking need you,” I rasp out against
her ear. She lets out a sexy-as-fuck gasp that I want to hear when
she’s underneath me, and I’m deep inside of her. She pushes her
ass against my groin and my cock screams for release. I want to take
her, but not here. She’s going home with me tonight, one way or
another.

“Jack.” Her moan
goes straight to my cock. I flip her around and cup her beautiful
face with my hands and capture her lush lips with my mouth. As my
tongue darts inside her mouth, I get the taste of strawberries from
her lip-gloss.

“Payton,” I mutter,
against her lips in between kisses. My hands glide down her back,
grabbing her ass and lifting her up against my body. Her long fucking
legs wrap around my waist as she grinds her hot pussy against my
erection. Fuck, this is heaven.

That’s when I hear,
“What the fuck?” come from behind us. Then all hell breaks loose.

* * *

I’ve got one of the
windows in my condo cracked open as I pull in a draw of my cigarette
and exhale. Right now, it’s the only thing that’s calming me
down. I quit after my undercover as Diesel, but I tend to smoke when
I get stressed. Payton Clare stresses me the fuck out like nobody
else. I’m going to have to knock it off because if my mother finds
out I’m smoking again, the woman will probably take me over her
knee, regardless of the fact that I’m thirty-five years old and
haven’t lived home since I was nineteen. I can’t relax not
knowing if Payton’s all right or not, and this cigarette is the
only thing taking the edge off right now.

After the so-called
fight with Dag, Ryder told me to back off, and he’d make sure
Payton was taken care of, but I’m not so sure. She’s so goddamned
stubborn sometimes, it’d be just like her to go home with him to
fucking spite me. This is not how I imagined the end of the night. I
had high hopes of having Payton in my bed this evening, but no such
luck.

My work cell buzzes, so
I answer it. I don’t expect to hear what I do.

“Why the fuck’s
Payton with our supplier?” It’s Devon.

“Come again?” I
ask, wanting him to repeat his question.

“We found out who our
supplier is. His real name’s Diego Gael Sanchez, aka Dag. We’ve
got surveillance of him with one Payton Ann Clare. Is she in on this
shit?” he asks.

“She’s fucking
clueless,” I answer, never doubting for a second that she wouldn’t
be with this guy if she knew.

My personal cell starts
ringing. I ignore it.

“You have a conflict
of interest due to the hard-on you have for this girl. You might be
willing to overlook any wrongdoing that she’s involved with,” he
barks out.

“Fuck you, asshole! That’s
uncalled for, and you fucking know it,” I rebut. My other phone
starts buzzing this time. I pick it up and look at the incoming
message from Ryder.

Call me. Payton needs u.

“We’ll fucking
discuss this tomorrow,” I grit out, disconnecting and hitting speed
dial.

“What the fuck,
Ryder?” I ask, not giving him any time to greet me.

“Ella just got a call
from Payton. She went home with that asshole, and he fuckin’
attacked her. Ella still has her on the line, tryin’ to keep her
calm. She’s hidin’ behind a dumpster in an alley off of Fallon
Circuit. I’m headin’ out, but you’re closer and can get there
sooner. I’m goin’ to Dag’s.”

“Jesus! Fuck! I
thought you had it covered, man!” I curse, disconnecting the line
and running out to my car. I fucking knew it. I knew I shouldn’t
have left her. If anything happens to her I’ll only have myself to
blame.

In my haste to get to
Payton, I break at least a dozen traffic laws and what would normally
take me fifteen minutes to drive, takes me seven minutes. I bring my
car to a screeching halt, putting it in park and jumping out.

“Payton?” I shout.
Please, let this be the right alley.

“I’m here,” she
whimpers, coming out from her hiding spot.

“Jesus fucking
Christ! He did this. Dag did this to you? I am going to fucking choke
the life out of that fucking prick. He’s so dead,” I say, my
thumbs softly stroking her cheek where I can see a bruise forming.

She tries to reassure
me that she’s okay, but I can see how scared she really is. I try
to tell her that it’s not okay. That it’s never okay for a man to
lay his hands on a woman to hurt her. My lips gently brush across her
swollen cheek, and I make the decision to bring her home with me. I
put my arm around her waist and pull her against my body, leading her
toward my car.

“Come on Payton,
you’re staying with me tonight.” Of course, she tries to tell me
she’s not because Ryder’s coming to get her. I explain to her how
Ryder called and asked me to get her and that he was going to look
for Dag at his apartment. When I tell her this she panics.

Fuck that! Ryder can
take care of himself. I need to get Payton out of here now. So I tell
her to get in the car, and she actually fucking listens to me. Once
inside the car, I try to adjust her top to cover her up, but the
thing is shredded and practically falls apart in my hands. Her
bra-covered tits are on display, and if I weren’t so fucking scared
and pissed off, I’d be all over that.

I need to know what he
did. Ryder told me she was attacked, but he didn’t go into detail.

“Payton, what the
fuck happened?”

“Ryder didn’t tell
you?” she asks me. I shake my head.

“No, what the fuck
happened?” I demand again. She tells me what happened to her at
Dag’s, but I can sense she’s keeping something from me. Just the
little bit of info she tells me, pisses me off. Instead of driving
toward Dag’s, I turn the car around because I know that if I see
that fucking prick right now, I’ll end up in prison. No fucking
joke.

When Payton asks me why
we’re not going to Dag’s, I don’t answer her right away. So she
asks me again with panic lacing her voice. I stop the vehicle and
shift over on the seat to unbuckle her seatbelt. I’ve got to hold
her in my arms because the thought of what could’ve happened to her
is making my whole body tremble with pent up rage. I tell her
straight up why we can’t go right now “We can’t fucking go
there, Payton. I’ll fucking kill him if we do.”

“Oh Jack,” she
sighs. “I’m okay. It’s over,” her shaky voice tries to
comfort me, but it’s not enough.

“No, it’s not. No
man hits a woman or forces her to do something they don’t want. I
need to know what happened.” I need to know all of the details,
even if it kills me. For whatever reasons, Payton refuses to talk to
me about it. All she wants to do is check in with Ella. As she makes
the call, I move back over to the driver’s side and take her with
me, tucking her into my side. I put the car in drive and make my way
back to my condo.

Twenty minutes later,
we pull up to this expensive looking condominium in the richer part
of town. My house isn’t bad, but it’s nothing like this place. I
can only dream for something this nice. He must’ve moved because he
certainly didn’t live here when I first met him. When I went home
with him years ago, he lived in a small and modest one-bedroom
apartment in a shady neighborhood. He’s really moved up in the
world. Once inside the parking level, Jack gets out of the driver’s
side of the vehicle, turns around, and twists my body to face him.
Then he grips me by the hips and pulls me across the bench seat, so
that I’m sitting on the edge.

“Come on, baby. Let
me take care of you.”

“Jack, I told you I’m
okay,” I say.

“Payton, you’ve
been through a lot tonight and so have I. We both need some rest so
we can talk in the morning,” Jack pleads.

“Okay,” I agree.

He walks me into the
building. It’s just as beautiful, sleek, and modern inside as I
suspected. The only thing that could use improvement is the crappy
music currently playing in the elevator we’re in. I start to
giggle.

“Beautiful, what’s
so funny? I find nothing funny about tonight,” he tells me.

“This elevator plays
crappy music. I thought in a modern building like this it would be
something better than … than … this!” I laugh out loud. Maybe
I’m going crazy because I don’t think I’d usually find this
very funny. It could have something to do with the fact that I’m
still feeling the effects of the alcohol I consumed this evening.

“I think I need to
call a doctor,” he remarks, shaking his head with a grin.

“What?” I snap.

“You sure you’re
not cracking up on me, baby?” he asks “I can see if they’ve got
a room available in the next asylum.”

“Seriously? You’re
cracking jokes? Jack De Luca’s cracking jokes!” He leans in and
traps me in the corner of the elevator with his tight body.

“Yeah, babe, I am.
And I’m glad I did because you’re smiling now, and I fucking love
that smile,” he whispers against the corner of my mouth. The heat
of his body and the words that he’s speaking in that husky, sexy
tone is driving me insane with want. I want to push my fingers
through his hair, rub my hands on his sexy rock hard chest, run my
tongue along his neck and abdomen, and wrap my lips around ... DING!

The dinging of the
elevator interrupts me, letting us know we have reached his floor.
Jack turns around and takes my hand in his, leading me to his
apartment door. My chest is thudding so hard that he can probably
hear it. Nervousness is something that I don’t experience often
because I usually don’t care, but this is Jack. Holy cocksucking
motherfucker, I’m at Jack’s place. I get to see where he lives,
how he lives—for real this time.

Opening the door to his
condo, I can see it’s an open-plan studio apartment. One full wall
of the room’s completely lined off with floor-to-ceiling windows.
WOW. Looking over to the left, I see that it’s decked out with a
sleek, modern, and manly kitchen. The cabinets are a dark cherry with
black granite counter tops and top-of-the-line stainless steel
appliances. What I wouldn’t give to have this place. I’ve
imagined myself living in a place like this. It just screams my name.

On the other side of
the room is where you can totally tell this is a bachelor’s
apartment. You have your leather sectional with a matching leather
recliner, chrome and glass coffee table, and then, of course, your
widescreen television mounted on the wall with all the other
electronic shit that goes with it. I could care less about any of
that stuff. I don’t watch much television, other than the
Twilight
movies.

I’d much rather
listen to music. Some people just like to listen to the melody of
songs, but I listen to the story in the lyrics. Every song has its
own story and some I can just lose myself in completely. I love
turning on a song and getting this feeling that someone gets you, but
when it’s over, you remember that it’s just a song, and someone
in the world who has no clue who you are or that you exist wrote it
and understands how you feel. That’s something that helps me along
in life, knowing I’m not the only fucked up person in the world who
has shit happen to them.

Next to the living
room, there’s a small bathroom and a few other doors that look like
closets. Where’s the bedroom? Turning around, I look back to the
kitchen and notice a set of stairs to the side leading to a loft
area. Walking over I start to climb them feeling Jack’s eyes on me,
so I put a little extra sway into my hips. Ha-ha. Take that fucker.
Up on the landing, I find myself in the master bedroom. Holy Fuck Me!

This is a man’s
bedroom. Two walls consisting of floor-to-ceiling glass windows join
together in the corner, giving an amazing view of downtown Del Mar on
one side and the beach on the other. Coming off of one of the glass
walls is a king size bed with a very low padded leather headboard.
The bed is made up with a black comforter, gray sheets, and red
accent pillows. Umm, it looks cozy, and I can imagine cuddling with
Jack in that bed, amongst doing other things. Other than the bed,
there’s no other furniture in the room. I feel his hot breath blow
against my ear as he approaches me from behind.

“Do you like it?”
he asks.

“It’s amazing,” I
say in a wistful voice.

“This room is what
sold me. I bought it a few months ago. I knew it would be perfect,”
he whispers.

“For what?” I ask.

“Come on, you need to
take a shower and clean up, baby. Get that fucking bastard off you,”
he says, ignoring my question.

“I don’t have
anything to wear, Jack. I can wait until tomorrow when I go home.”
I really do want to shower, but it can wait, I guess.

“I might have
something that fits you. Check out my closet,” he says, pointing to
one of two doors. I walk over to the door and pull it open. It’s a
huge walk-in closet that’s bigger than my whole bedroom at home. I
take a white button up shirt off of a hanger and walk toward the
en-suite bathroom. It’s a crazy ass bathroom, decked out with a
jetted whirlpool tub big enough for two people and surrounded by a
wall of windows. The shower’s next to it and is enclosed in glass
and black and gray slate tiled walls. The black granite top vanity
has a double sink with the glass bowls that are above the counter. I
love this look—completely my style.