Bare It All
Page 94
“Do it,” he told her, “and I’ll go talk to your family instead.”
Big tears filled her eyes. She looked around, probably hoping for help.
Hickson didn’t have time for her dramatics. “Call the police, scream, make a single wrong move...” He shrugged. “And they’re dead. Every f**king one of them. Don’t doubt it.”
The tears spilled over. “Wh-what do you want?”
“Get in the car and we’ll talk about it.”
She didn’t want to—but she also didn’t want her family murdered. He’d been mostly bluffing about that. He didn’t mind doing what had to be done, but he wasn’t dumb enough or reckless enough to slaughter a whole family.
But Cheryl was too chickenshit to realize that.
Patience running thin, he leaned across the seat and shoved open the passenger door. “Get in. Now.”
Shaking all over, she joined him in the car.
The second her ass hit the seat, Hickson drove off. “Shut the goddamned door. And stop that sniveling!”
She obeyed the first but not the second.
Hickson rode to a quiet park, not stopping until he found a secluded area. He turned to face Cheryl, looked her over. She wore jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. For only a moment, that amused him. “Hiding your tat?”
She rubbed her forearm as if it still hurt. “I...I...”
“Where were you going?”
Confusion mixed with the stark terror.
“Today,” he said, impatient with her hesitation. “Just now. You were slinking off somewhere, right? A new boyfriend?”
She shook her head hard. “No, I...” Swallowing, she swiped away her tears and met his gaze. “I had an appointment to see a doctor.”
“Yeah?” He looked her over again, but she didn’t look sick or hurt. “What’s wrong with you?”
That trembling chin went higher. “I was going to have the tattoo removed.”
Anger expanded. “That’d be a big f**king mistake.” Before she could move, Hickson grabbed her wrist, then hauled her half over the console. He shoved up the sleeve of her shirt. “You see this? It stays, bitch. Do you understand me?”
Snuffling and sobbing, she fought to get away from him. Hickson tangled a hand in her hair and held her still. Now, with her truly hysterical, he said, “The one that helped you get away. What’s her name?”
Cheryl bawled and fought—until he tightened his hand in her hair. “Who is she?” he demanded.
“I—I don’t know.”
He snatched up her arm—the arm covered by a long sleeve even on what promised to be a blistering day. “Wanna do it the hard way, huh?”
“I said I don’t know! Alice something. She—she never told me her last name.”
Hickson read the truth of that in her wide eyes. “All right.” He rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “Tell me what you do know. And, Cheryl, honey, I hope it’s enough. Otherwise you and I are going to take a nice long drive to the river.”
Her slender throat worked before she finally got the words out. “She—she gave me a number to call.” Frantically, Cheryl dug in her purse until she found the scrap of paper. Hand trembling, she offered it to him.
“A number? What the hell for?”
“She said...in case I—I needed her.”
Hmm. Interesting. So the busybody had thoughts of playing in the big league? “That just might work.” He pulled out his cell phone and offered it to her. “Call it.”
Cheryl treated the phone as she would a two-headed snake. Hands pulled back to her chest, her expression horrified. “What—what would I say?”
Hickson grinned. “That you need her, of course.”
“Oh.” Tentatively, Cheryl accepted the phone.
“Ask her to meet you at the bus stop across from the tattoo parlor. And Cheryl? Pray that she agrees.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ALICE WOKE THE next morning in the usual way—or at least the way that had become usual now that she had Reese and Cash in her life. Reese spooned her from behind, one brawny arm over her waist, and even in sleep, his hand curled around her breast.
She loved his hands so much. Big and strong and so incredibly capable, whether he cooked, brushed Cash, or drove her insane with sensual need.
Cash rested at the foot of the bed, his head over her ankles.
She could hear both man and dog breathing heavily in their sleep, and a softball-sized lump of emotion lodged in her throat.
She loved them both so much. But last night she’d blown it. She’d gotten so caught up in the incredible pleasure of sex with Reese that she hadn’t uncovered his feelings about her. She hadn’t discovered if he was in it for the long haul, if his heart had gotten as involved as hers.
Sure, some of the things he’d said were nice. Better than nice. But they didn’t give her a clue about a future together.
Swallowing down her worry, Alice put her hand over his, marveling at the size of his wrist, his fingers. She touched him gently, tracing along the seam of his middle and index finger—and suddenly felt the rise of his interest against her rear end.
She turned her head toward him. “You’re awake?”
“Mmm.” His hand contracted carefully, caressing her. “Awake and wondering what you’re thinking.”
Cash grumbled, snuffled away from her feet and stretched out again with a lazy sigh.
Big tears filled her eyes. She looked around, probably hoping for help.
Hickson didn’t have time for her dramatics. “Call the police, scream, make a single wrong move...” He shrugged. “And they’re dead. Every f**king one of them. Don’t doubt it.”
The tears spilled over. “Wh-what do you want?”
“Get in the car and we’ll talk about it.”
She didn’t want to—but she also didn’t want her family murdered. He’d been mostly bluffing about that. He didn’t mind doing what had to be done, but he wasn’t dumb enough or reckless enough to slaughter a whole family.
But Cheryl was too chickenshit to realize that.
Patience running thin, he leaned across the seat and shoved open the passenger door. “Get in. Now.”
Shaking all over, she joined him in the car.
The second her ass hit the seat, Hickson drove off. “Shut the goddamned door. And stop that sniveling!”
She obeyed the first but not the second.
Hickson rode to a quiet park, not stopping until he found a secluded area. He turned to face Cheryl, looked her over. She wore jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. For only a moment, that amused him. “Hiding your tat?”
She rubbed her forearm as if it still hurt. “I...I...”
“Where were you going?”
Confusion mixed with the stark terror.
“Today,” he said, impatient with her hesitation. “Just now. You were slinking off somewhere, right? A new boyfriend?”
She shook her head hard. “No, I...” Swallowing, she swiped away her tears and met his gaze. “I had an appointment to see a doctor.”
“Yeah?” He looked her over again, but she didn’t look sick or hurt. “What’s wrong with you?”
That trembling chin went higher. “I was going to have the tattoo removed.”
Anger expanded. “That’d be a big f**king mistake.” Before she could move, Hickson grabbed her wrist, then hauled her half over the console. He shoved up the sleeve of her shirt. “You see this? It stays, bitch. Do you understand me?”
Snuffling and sobbing, she fought to get away from him. Hickson tangled a hand in her hair and held her still. Now, with her truly hysterical, he said, “The one that helped you get away. What’s her name?”
Cheryl bawled and fought—until he tightened his hand in her hair. “Who is she?” he demanded.
“I—I don’t know.”
He snatched up her arm—the arm covered by a long sleeve even on what promised to be a blistering day. “Wanna do it the hard way, huh?”
“I said I don’t know! Alice something. She—she never told me her last name.”
Hickson read the truth of that in her wide eyes. “All right.” He rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “Tell me what you do know. And, Cheryl, honey, I hope it’s enough. Otherwise you and I are going to take a nice long drive to the river.”
Her slender throat worked before she finally got the words out. “She—she gave me a number to call.” Frantically, Cheryl dug in her purse until she found the scrap of paper. Hand trembling, she offered it to him.
“A number? What the hell for?”
“She said...in case I—I needed her.”
Hmm. Interesting. So the busybody had thoughts of playing in the big league? “That just might work.” He pulled out his cell phone and offered it to her. “Call it.”
Cheryl treated the phone as she would a two-headed snake. Hands pulled back to her chest, her expression horrified. “What—what would I say?”
Hickson grinned. “That you need her, of course.”
“Oh.” Tentatively, Cheryl accepted the phone.
“Ask her to meet you at the bus stop across from the tattoo parlor. And Cheryl? Pray that she agrees.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ALICE WOKE THE next morning in the usual way—or at least the way that had become usual now that she had Reese and Cash in her life. Reese spooned her from behind, one brawny arm over her waist, and even in sleep, his hand curled around her breast.
She loved his hands so much. Big and strong and so incredibly capable, whether he cooked, brushed Cash, or drove her insane with sensual need.
Cash rested at the foot of the bed, his head over her ankles.
She could hear both man and dog breathing heavily in their sleep, and a softball-sized lump of emotion lodged in her throat.
She loved them both so much. But last night she’d blown it. She’d gotten so caught up in the incredible pleasure of sex with Reese that she hadn’t uncovered his feelings about her. She hadn’t discovered if he was in it for the long haul, if his heart had gotten as involved as hers.
Sure, some of the things he’d said were nice. Better than nice. But they didn’t give her a clue about a future together.
Swallowing down her worry, Alice put her hand over his, marveling at the size of his wrist, his fingers. She touched him gently, tracing along the seam of his middle and index finger—and suddenly felt the rise of his interest against her rear end.
She turned her head toward him. “You’re awake?”
“Mmm.” His hand contracted carefully, caressing her. “Awake and wondering what you’re thinking.”
Cash grumbled, snuffled away from her feet and stretched out again with a lazy sigh.
