Riding Temptation

Page 4

They looked everywhere, then swung back around and rode the main streets again, but finally Diaz called it quits and they headed to the hotel where they’d made reservations and checked in. As they walked down the hallway toward their rooms, Jessie’s stomach gnawed with disappointment.
Her first day of her first assignment and absolutely nothing had happened.
She reached her door and turned to the two of them. “You want to get something to eat?”
Spence shook his head. “I’m going to stow my stuff, then head back to one of the bars on the main drag and keep watch for any of the Skulls.”
“I’m going to do some research into their gang, so I’ll stay here,” Diaz said. “Jess, you can go with him if you want.”
Research? What kind of research was Diaz going to do in his room?
“I’m tired. I think I’ll just hang here,” she said.
Spence nodded and moved down the hall to his room while Diaz unlocked the door across the hall from hers.
Jessie went into her room and closed the door, quickly unpacking her things. She sat on the bed, staring out the window. Pent-up anxiety kept her from relaxing.
It was early. She had nothing to do. She needed some action.
Research. That’s what she needed to do, find out what kind of research Diaz was doing. She picked up the phone, called down to the hotel restaurant and ordered two sandwiches, then took a quick shower and changed clothes.
Thirty minutes later she stood in front of Diaz’s door with a bag of sandwiches and sodas. She raised her hand to knock, then paused.
What if he had a girlfriend in this town and he’d just made up the research excuse so he could be alone with her?
No. That was stupid. Why would he lie? Because they were supposed to be working and he was goofing off instead? What difference would that make? If Diaz wanted to get laid, he’d just say so. Wouldn’t he?
Her stomach panged at the thought. Had to be hunger. What right did she have to be jealous? She had no claim on Diaz. They didn’t even have a relationship. They had . . . nothing.
He was definitely researching. But what? And how?
She meant to find out. Besides, she’d brought him dinner, a legitimate excuse for knocking on his door.
Oh, quit debating and knock, dumbass.
She rapped three times, hoping like hell some half-naked woman didn’t answer. Her instincts were usually right. Diaz would be working, not screwing some biker babe.
She’d hate for this to be the first time she was wrong about something.
THREE
DIAZ CURSED WHEN HE HEARD THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR. HE pushed back from the too-small desk, cursed again when he bumped his leg, and hobbled to the door, mentally letting loose another string of obscenities when he saw who it was through the peep-hole.
Jessie.
He unlocked the dead bolt and pulled the door open.
“What?”
She arched a brow. “Wow, you’re grumpy. Do you need a nap?”
“No. Just some solitude.”
“Too bad.” She slid her way past, carrying a bag and two cans of soda, which she put on the nightstand next to his bed. “I brought dinner, figuring you wouldn’t order anything since you had some sort of research to do.”
She kicked off her sandals and climbed onto his bed, pulling one of the pillows out from the bedspread and tucking it behind her back. “Hope you like turkey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Weren’t you listening? I brought dinner.” She opened the bag and laid two sandwiches on the nightstand, then popped open the top of one of the soda cans. “I’ll take care of setting things up, so, don’t let me disturb you.”
Too late. One look at her and he was distracted. One whiff of her as she passed by, her br**sts brushing his chest, and he was definitely disturbed. Deeply, profoundly disturbed. She smelled like sunshine, outdoors, and Jessie. He wanted to lick her neck.
How the hell was he supposed to work with her in the room?
“Are you hungry yet?” she asked.
Yeah, he was hungry all right. But not for a turkey sandwich. “No.”
“Is that a laptop?”
He took the chair and resumed his spot at the desk again. “Master of the obvious, aren’t you.”
“Smartass. I didn’t know you brought one. What are you doing?”
“I told you. Research.”
She slid off the bed and came up behind him. He tried not to breathe her in, but he couldn’t avoid it. The scent of her was right there, as was her body as she leaned over him.
“The Devil’s Skulls have a website?”
“Yeah,” he managed, though he wasn’t concentrating on the screen anymore. “Most of the prominent groups have their own websites so they can show off pictures, list their activities and where they’re going to be. I figured if the Skulls were big enough, they would, too.”
“Show me.”
He flipped through the pages of the website, showing her pictures of bike rallies and fund-raisers, lists of their officers and members, some of the charities they gave to.
“Do they have a calendar of events?”
“Yeah.” He clicked on it. “It brings up the current month as well as future months and what’s happening.”
“It says they’re going to be at the rally.”
“Yup.”
“Hmm. Wonder why they weren’t there today?”
“No clue.”
She laid her hand on his shoulder, leaned farther in, her br**sts pillowed against his back. For the love of God, the government could use her as a torture device. She could break a man in less than ten minutes by rubbing her br**sts across his back. His balls were already twisting up in a knot.
Diaz always prided himself on his self-discipline. Torture him? Fine. He could handle it. He had a high threshold for pain, could tune it out and focus inward on something else. There wasn’t much that could faze him once he decided to power his concentration on the task at hand.
He tried that now, focusing his attention on the computer screen, trying to cull as much information as he could about the Skulls so they could come into the group well informed.
It wasn’t working. Jessie was devastating to his senses, and the information on the laptop was a total blur.
“Well, this is surprising,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck.
“What is?” He hoped he hadn’t missed critical information. How would he explain something right in front of him? I’m sorry but your br**sts distracted me?
“You. A laptop. I never took you for an Internet geek. You’re always outside, riding, or working on the bikes. You never spend time in the tech room.”
“You know very little about me, Jessie.”
She pulled away, much to his relief. Now he could exhale.
“Well, fill me in. I’m dying to know.” She flounced on his bed and grabbed her sandwich. “Tell me all about yourself while I eat.”
He half turned in his chair. Was she joking? “What is it that you think I’m going to tell you?”
She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Since you’re a complete mystery to me, how about everything?”
Giving up, he grabbed the turkey sandwich and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. What could he say that would get rid of her? “I was born. I grew up. I screwed up. You know the drill. I came to the Wild Riders in the same way the rest of the guys did. You’ve been around me for years. You know who I am and what I do. End of story.”
“Oh, come on. Out of all the guys I know the least about you. Why is that?”
“Because there’s nothing to tell.” Nothing he’d want her to know about, anyway.
“I don’t believe that. Everyone’s told their story about who they were before Grange dragged them into Wild Riders, what kind of trouble they were in. I never heard yours, though.”
He shrugged. “It’s not that eventful.”
“So are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to fantasize and make up my own horrible stories about you knocking off a couple of banks, terrorizing small towns, on the run from the Feds . . .”
Anything to shut her up. Even the truth. “I was seventeen. I liked to hijack money out of ATMs and use stolen cars to get away.”
She raised both brows and lifted her lips. “Really. So I was accurate about knocking off banks. You stud.”
He shook his head at her teasing remark. “Some of the ATM machine and bank cameras showed vehicles and license plates, so I typically stole a car before I broke into an ATM.”
She nodded. “Rather industrious of you. Where did you lift the ATM cards?”
“Pickpocket. Easy to grab a wallet or purse on a busy street. Business people talking or a woman distracted while shopping. And then the cars were easy to grab. I went for older model vehicles—usually beat-up, left unlocked, and a no-brainer to hot-wire. Since I used them once and abandoned them, I didn’t need them to be in top condition.”
“How did you bypass PIN numbers?”
“I know computer stuff.”
Her brows lifted. “I’m intrigued.”
She really had no idea. “I picked up things here and there. I didn’t just steal cars.”
“So, you had it made, did you?”
“I thought so. Until I got caught and tossed in jail. No money, public defender who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about me or whether I ended up in prison for life or not. When Grange showed up and offered the deal, I would have sold my soul to take it.”
“You were grateful for the second chance.”
“Eventually, sure. But not at first. You know how it is. You were the same way. At that age you think you’re hot stuff, that no adult is going to save you from yourself. All you want is out, so you can get back on the street, be independent, and do things your way.”
Jessie nodded with a smile. “I remember. Grange had other ideas, though. Didn’t take any crap from us.”
“No, he didn’t. Worked me hard from the first day and never let up. Told me it was either his way, or prison. For the first few months I wondered if prison wasn’t the easier way to go.”
Jessie laughed. “I know. He didn’t cut me any slack because I was a girl, either. Made me study, eat well, exercise, lights out early, no phone, no friends . . . all these damn rules. And here I thought I had slipped away from school. It was worse being under his care.”
“Yeah. School first, then all the physical workouts, plus shop—learning more about cars and bikes than I had ever known before. Stripping them down to the chassis and building them back up again. I learned a lot.” At first he’d hated every second of being flattened under Grange’s thumb, but then he started to respect General Lee. The man ruled with an iron fist, took no shit from the smartassed kids he’d taken under his wing. Eventually, Diaz came to appreciate three meals a day, no abuse, and being taught that if you wanted to be respected, you had to earn it and show respect in turn. He’d learned how to be a man from Grange Lee, something his own father had never taught him.
“I’d fall into bed at night—nine p.m., no less—completely exhausted,” Jessie said.
“He’d drag us out of bed at dawn. No wonder we had no problem going to bed at nine.” Diaz hadn’t gone to bed that early since he was five years old. But working under Grange’s laws made it easy.
“I had family,” Jessie said. “A hard taskmaster for a father figure, but for the first time in my life, I finally had a family who cared about me. A father, and brothers who looked after me.”
Brothers. There it was. That chasm he couldn’t cross.
“Yeah. Family is good.” He finished his sandwich, crumpled up the napkin and tossed it in the trash, then turned back to the laptop, hoping Jessie would get the hint and leave his room.
She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, but then he heard her move behind him, her br**sts once again pressed against his back as she studied the laptop screen. He sucked in a quick breath, heat surging through his veins.
Christ. Just being near her sent his nervous system haywire. And she thought of him as a brother. He was such a f**king pervert. He had to get her out of his room.
“I think I can finish this up now.” He shut the lid on the laptop and pushed the chair back, forcing her to move away from him.
Jessie backed up a couple of steps, a confused frown on her face. “That’s it? You’re done with your research?”
“Yeah.” He moved to the door, hoping she’d follow.
She didn’t.
“Diaz.”
He hovered near the door. Come on, Jess. Get the hint.
“What?”
She walked toward him. He watched the way she moved. So graceful, so slow, so seductive. She stopped in front of him, tilting her head back to look him in the eyes. Her lips were parted a fraction of an inch, revealing just the tip of her tongue as she studied him.
He was beginning to sweat. His c**k twitched. His heart pounded.
Fuck. He wasn’t seventeen. He was thirty-one goddamn years old, too old to let a young woman affect him this way.
She inched closer, so close that the tips of her br**sts nearly brushed his shirt. His knees almost buckled.
“Why are you so afraid of me?”
He tilted his chin down and stared at her. “What?”
“You’re afraid of me. It’s obvious. You’ve been avoiding me for years. You never talk to me. I enter a room, you leave. I try to talk to you, and you mumble a few unintelligible phrases, but otherwise, you won’t engage and then you make up some excuse to get away from me.”