Texas Hold 'Em Read online

  Sam fetched me a wine-red crop top to switch out with my white one, and neither of them batted an eye as I stripped down and changed in front of them.

  I’d done undercover work before. I knew how these circles ran. If the girls liked me, the men would follow suit.

  Once dressed, I checked myself out in the standing mirror propped up in the corner of the bedroom beside a tall plant with wide green leaves. I ran my hands over my hips and thighs, which strained against the fabric. I had thicker legs than Sam, but I had to admit, they looked pretty good in leather.

  Suzie hopped off the bed and came over to rest her arm on my shoulder. She whistled. “You look like a straight up hoe.”

  “Tex won’t be able to pick his jaw up off the floor,” Sam said encouragingly.

  I smiled.

  If Tex liked what he saw, great. If not? Well, truth be told, I didn’t really care because I’d lied.

  This outfit wasn’t for him.

  This outfit was to get me a few steps closer to my real target—Caroline Bates.

  “It’s perfect.” I turned to Sam. “Mind if I borrow it for a few nights?” I started pulling the leggings off.

  Sam frowned. “You don’t want to wear it right now?”

  “Nope. I have a special occasion in mind,” I said.

  I could feel Sam and Suzie sharing a look as I struggled to peel the skintight leather off my ankles.

  “Keep them as long as you need,” Sam said.

  I’d just managed to put my own pants back on when the bedroom door swung open. Jackson stood in the doorway with his hand resting on the doorknob. His electric gaze flicked from his woman, to me, to his sister, and back to Sam.

  “What are you three doing in here?” His voice was hollow.

  Sam flitted over to him. “Carrie just needed to borrow some clothes.”

  “For what?” he grated.

  Sam rolled her eyes. “To wear. Come on. Let’s rejoin the others. My drink is empty.”

  Sam took Jackson’s hand and pulled him out into the hall. He kept an eye on me over his shoulder as Suzie and I followed.

  I wondered what he thought of me—what he really thought of me. He wasn’t a fool, so he knew keeping me close was to his advantage, but I doubted a man with experience like his could trust me so blindly.

  I was sure he’d warned Tex to keep an eye on me.

  They had every reason to be cautious. Even though I had saved Mason’s life, I was a flight risk. I had connections to the law. If I wanted to, I could up and bail any time I wanted and Jackson wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it.

  Then again, maybe that was what he wanted.

  Maybe he wanted me confined to Tex’s depressing apartment so that I ran back to Austin.

  Back to my home.

  Back to Dan.

  I gritted my teeth as we passed through the kitchen.

  No.

  I would not run. Bates picked this fight with me as much as he had with Jackson’s club. I wanted to see him rot in jail for what he did. Besides, I didn’t have family to go home to. I didn’t have a home I shared with children and a husband. I was as much a loner as Tex was.

  When this mess was behind me, I’d go home.

  Until then, I had to keep my wits about me. The Devil’s Luck might have saved my ass and was currently the only thing standing between me and Bates and me and the cops, but I couldn’t be naïve enough to believe they would protect me like I was their own. If push came to shove, they’d leave me high and dry.

  So I had to make sure I could still look out for myself.

  I wouldn’t wait around for Jackson’s orders to come down the line. It was time to take matters into my own hands, starting with Caroline Bates.

  All I needed was the right window of opportunity.

  For now, I would work recon. I would let these men in. I would laugh at their jokes, drink beer with them, and let them think I was just another girl with a tight ass and a flirty smile.

  In my experience, it was always better to be underestimated, even by your alliances.

  Back out on the porch, Grant fetched me another beer while Sam did dishes in the kitchen. He and Brody chatted me up while another joint was passed around and I did my best to give them all my attention. It wasn’t easy. I could feel eyes on me.

  Between Grant and Brody, I caught a glimpse of Tex leaning on the porch railing, watching us.

  No. Watching me.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  I used to think Dan was sexy. I liked his boyish charm and clean-cut good looks. I thought his dimples were cute and his haircut was sophisticated.

  Tex was none of those things.

  He stood with his shoulders pulled forward, like the weight of the world was balanced on his back. His jaw flexed as he watched me with the men, and I felt a primal energy rolling off him as he averted his gaze and looked down to pull a cigarette out of his pack, drop the pack back in his pocket, and light the cigarette. He took a drag and the ember lit up his features—the dark stubble along his jaw, the shadow of his sharp nose and long eyelashes, his hooded brow. He was the opposite of cute.

  In fact, some women might pass him on the street dressed all in black and think he looked scary. Dangerous.

  And he was. They all were.

  But the way he looked at me, I liked it. I craved it. There was a reason I walked around his apartment in a T-shirt and little else in the mornings. I knew he watched me with those hawk-like eyes of his.

  Maybe fucking a biker wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it was the release I needed to keep a clear head in the middle of this bullshit with Bates.

  And what was more, a man getting good sex was always easier to bend than a man who wasn’t.

  Chapter 7

  Jameson

  I grabbed Carrie’s wrist and pulled her away from Chips and Toke.

  “We’re leaving,” I said.

  She stumbled after me across the porch before managing to wrestle her hand free as we passed through the patio doors. “Hands off, pal. What’s your deal?”

  Pal? Seriously?

  “My deal?” I asked sharply. “I’m not the one parading my ass around like a hooker trying to get attention from everyone with a cock.”

  She blinked and pulled back as if I’d slapped her. “I beg your pardon?”

  I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m going home. You’re coming with me. Let’s go.”

  “Maybe I want to stay.”

  This woman was going to be the death of me.

  “Listen,” I growled. “Jackson let you hang around, but there were conditions. One of which is that you’re under my watch. So, you know what you’re going to do from now on? You’re going to smile and nod and say ‘yes, sir’ when I tell you to do something. Is that clear?”

  Carrie’s azure blue eyes narrowed. “You’re a jackass.”

  “We all are, sweetheart. Time to wake up and smell the roses. Let’s go.”

  Carrie hesitated, but I didn’t look over my shoulder to make sure she was following. I marched toward the front door and heard her fall into step behind me. I grabbed a spare motorcycle helmet from the storage bench in the entranceway and handed it to her. She picked up her bag from the floor, which overflowed with shiny black material and something red, and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Put it on,” I said.

  Carrie sighed but did as she was told. She followed me out into the night and across the driveway. It was lined in solar-powered pocket lights that cast an eerie glow on the other parked bikes and painted long, spooky shadows across the pavement.

  Carrie fumbled with the buckle under her chin but refused to ask for help. I pulled on my leather gloves and flexed my fingers while I waited for her to figure her shit out.

  When she still didn’t have it done up properly a minute later, I swatted her hands away and did it up myself.

  I gave the strap a sharp tug, and the helmet didn’t move around. It was a perfect
fit.

  “Thank you,” she said grudgingly.

  After settling into the saddle, I put up the kickstand and nodded for her to get on the back. Carrie stepped on the foot peg, swung her leg over, braced herself with her hands on my shoulders, and sank down onto the seat behind me. She shimmied back and forth a bit to get comfortable and adjusted her bag over her shoulder, pushing it so it lay across her back instead of along her side. Her thighs hugged me as she inched forward to wrap her arms around my chest.

  She sucked in a breath of surprise.

  I turned my head to the side to look over my shoulder. “What?”

  She ran her hand down my back until she felt the pistol tucked in the back of my jeans. “I didn’t know you were packing.”

  “Always. Too much for you, princess?”

  She wrapped her arms around me once more. “Just drive.”

  Her breasts crushed against my back and I tried not to think about the warmth of her body as I turned the bike on and pulled out of the driveway.

  As soon as we left the residential area, I opened up the throttle. To my surprise, Carrie let loose with childish laughter. She held on to my jacket with one hand while leaning back and throwing her other arm in the air, riding the wind with her hand. I grinned into the wind and wondered who this woman really was.

  Was she just the straitlaced Ranger? Or was there more to her?

  What does she do alone in my bed at night when I’m sleeping in the next room?

  She tightened her grip around my chest as we took a wide corner. She leaned with me, easing gently into the bend and coming back up. I knew instantly that she’d spent time on a bike before, either riding herself or on the back.

  Her hands moved higher and slid inside the open part of my jacket.

  What the hell was she playing at?

  We came to a stop at a red light. No other cars were at the intersection, so the only noise was the rumble of my engine, and it wasn’t enough to drown out Carrie’s voice when she called my name.

  “I think we’re being followed.”

  I checked my mirrors. A pair of headlights two blocks back nearly blinded me with their high beams.

  Odd.

  “Hold on tight,” I called. “We’ll lose them up ahead.”

  She inched a little farther forward and held me tighter with her arms and her thighs. I couldn’t deny that I liked the way her whole body held me. Her muscles seemed to tighten and coil like that of a snake as she kept herself tucked in tightly behind me to make us more aerodynamic.

  She’d definitely spent time on a bike before.

  The streetlight up ahead turned yellow.

  Carrie pressed the heel of her hand against my sternum. “Go.”

  I rolled the throttle grip toward me and the bike lurched forward before catching pavement. The back tire wiggled as the speed climbed, but we straightened out and picked up speed, screaming through two more intersections before our tail blew through the one we’d left. Carrie never faltered in her seat and didn’t dare a glance over her shoulder for fear of ruining our balance.

  I’d have to remember to thank her for that later.

  I hunkered down low as we came into another corner to get us off the main streets of Reno. An SUV with the windows down blasting rap music cut the line pretty close and forced me into the middle of the lane. I had to drop our speed, and when I checked our mirrors, I saw that the two headlights I’d initially took for one vehicle were actually two motorcycles, and they were gaining on us.

  “Shit,” I hissed.

  Carrie released her hold on me for half a second to point up ahead. “Take the alley!”

  I dropped our speed, pulled up onto the curb, and drove into the darkness of the alley. I killed my headlight and turned off the bike as we pulled into the shadows beside an overflowing dumpster. Carrie twisted in the saddle and we both looked back out onto the street.

  “Do you think they saw us?” she asked.

  I held my breath and watched the road through the opening at the end of the alley.

  Seconds later, the two bikes tore past.

  Carrie exhaled and slumped forward to rest her helmet on my back. “Shit, that was close. Do you think they were Bates’s guys?”

  “There’s a good chance,” I said.

  “How long do we wait?”

  “Give it a few minutes. We don’t want them to circle back and…” I trailed off as we were suddenly lit up under bright lights.

  Carrie shielded her eyes as we both faced forward. At the opposite end of the alley the two bikes revved their engines.

  “Hold on!” I yelled.

  Carrie seized hold of me as I opened the throttle and spun the back of the bike around. Our tails, whoever the fuck they were, plunged into the alley after us. Carrie kept her head down as we sped over cracks in the asphalt that made for a bumpy ride. We came flying out the opening we’d entered just as a blacked-out SUV drove past. I had to let go of the throttle, squeeze the brakes, and turn sharply. The bike slid across eight feet of pavement before the tires caught grip again. I straightened us out and let it fly. We surged forward and the two bikes and the SUV flew after us.

  “We have to get out of the city!” Carrie yelled in my ear. “Or we’ll never lose them!”

  She was right.

  I swerved left down a one-way road. An approaching minivan jerked up onto the sidewalk and laid on their horn. Carrie squealed as we blew past them.

  “Hang on!” I roared.

  We plunged down a side street, cut across two lanes of oncoming traffic, and raced away from the city lights down a winding road that led to the industrial park near Hogey’s storage facility. Dimly, I wondered who was running it in his absence.

  “They’re still on us!” Carrie called.

  I gritted my teeth. Who were these bastards? They were relentless!

  Unwanted thoughts of how William died flashed in my mind. He’d been shot down just like this in the middle of the road. I’d seen his body in the aftermath—the road rash, the gaping, bloody hole in his chest, the blood in his hairline.

  Fuck.

  I couldn’t let that happen. Not with Carrie clinging to me for dear life. She deserved better than a bloody death on a back road in Reno.

  Suddenly a shot rang through the night.

  Carrie screamed.

  “Are you hit?” I yelled.

  “No!”

  Another shot.

  “Fuck!” I hissed.

  Carrie was too exposed. I had to do something. Anything. Otherwise she was going to get a bullet in the back.

  I checked my mirrors. The two bikes were six car lengths back. The SUV was tailing farther behind, and I wondered who was behind the wheel. Moss, the bastard who beat the shit out of Mason the other week? Or Caroline, Bates’s sadistic daughter?

  A car pulled out in front of us from a side street without its lights on.

  Carrie shrieked in my ear.

  I released the throttle and hit the brakes hard, but we weren’t going to stop in time. The side of the car grew closer and closer and I lost control of the bike as it swerved and wiggled, fishtailing across the pavement until the back tire went out and we toppled over, sliding three feet across the road until we spilled out onto the grassy edges. Carrie tucked and rolled while I was a little less graceful, my limbs getting thrown all over the place until I landed heavily on my stomach seeing stars and trying to pull air into my lungs.

  Carrie was already on her knees and crawling toward me on the grass. Her jeans were torn up, her knees bloody, the elbows of her jacket ripped to shreds.

  “Get the hell out of here,” I wheezed.

  But she wasn’t listening. It took me a minute to realize what she was doing as she pulled the back of my jacket up. When she pulled my pistol out of my jeans, I knew immediately what was happening.

  Carrie knelt in front of me and fired two rapid shots right at the fast-approaching motorcycles.

  She took them both out with shots right
to the chest.

  They dumped their bikes in a shriek of metal on pavement. Their corpses flopped across the street. One was crushed under his bike. The SUV came to a screeching halt and slammed into reverse. The tires screeched as they applied too much gas to back up.

  Carrie got unsteadily to her feet, held the gun straight in front of her, and pulled the trigger.

  A shot fired right through the windshield. The car suddenly caught traction and went screaming backward until it crashed into the median on the other side of the road. The tires continued spinning and the engine revved as the dead driver’s foot remained on the pedal.

  I watched in shock and bewilderment as Carrie limped across the road, opened the driver’s door, took their foot off the gas, and turned the car off.

  She tossed the keys into the field behind the car before racing back to me and grabbing my arm to haul me to my feet.

  “We have to get out of here,” she said.

  “No shit,” I breathed as I looked at the aftermath of her destruction. Three men dead, just like that. She hadn’t even batted an eye.

  I jogged to the SUV.

  “Jameson, we don’t have time!” Carrie hissed.

  I peered in the open door at the dead man inside and recognized him instantly. He’d been there that rainy day on the tracks when we did the trade off to get Sam back from Bates.

  Carrie bent down and struggled to lift my bike from the grass. “Help me!”

  I hurried back to her, the truth of what had happened not lost on me. She’d just saved my life from a hit by Bates.

  I heaved the bike back up. She swayed on her feet and I grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her close.

  “Are you good to ride?” I asked.

  She nodded but grimaced and pulled her helmet off. “I hit my head and it’s pressing into me.”

  I checked her scalp. No blood. Feeling the inside of her helmet, I felt the damage of the impact. She must have taken a good hit to the head. I took my helmet off and put it on her before getting back in the saddle and struggling to start the bike.

  “Come on,” I grated. “Come on!”

  Carrie stuffed everything back in her bag. It had dumped all over the ground when we went down. She slung it over one arm and gripped my shoulders to climb on behind me.