Tilting her head up, he kissed her while his finger played with her mound, but Cara clamped her legs together as she twisted her hips. “Come on, baby. Open your legs more so I can get into your hot pussy.”
Resisting, Cara said, “I don’t feel comfortable. You know, doing it in public and all.”
“No one’s looking, Cara. Everyone’s too busy fucking to give a shit about what we’re doing. I’m fuckin’ horny for you.”
“Some of the people are looking. I see them.”
“You worry too much about that kind of shit. This is about you and me wanting each other. Come on, babe, I need you,” he coaxed.
Cara’s heart thumped and her pulse raced. Maybe it would be exciting. Hawk wanted to bang her, and he didn’t seem bothered by the fact that there were about forty people out in the yard. She did want to please him, but in public? Her stomach was a tight ball, and she had the urge to run away. In the golden reflection of the bonfire, and in the shadowy darkness of the yard’s outskirts, everyone was fucking and no one cared who was looking, but Cara didn’t want the pleasure she and Hawk shared to be on display. It just wasn’t her style, and if he cared anything for her, he’d understand. Call me a prude, but this isn’t my scene.
“Come on, babe, open up.” Hawk’s hands tugged at her closed legs.
“Hawk, I’m sorry, but this isn’t for me. I know you’re cool with this, but I’m not. I don’t mind kissing and stuff, but screwing you in front of a bunch of people just isn’t my thing.”
Hawk was quiet.
“I know this is the way things are done in your world, but you have to respect my world, too. I don’t feel comfortable with all this. I hope you understand,” she said.
Hawk still didn’t say anything. He withdrew his finger, wrapped his arms around her, and ran his fingers through her hair.
“Are you mad?” Cara said.
“No, I’m not mad. I don’t want you to do anything you feel uncomfortable with. It’s cool.”
“I like our intimate moments to be for us only. It makes it special that way, you know?”
“You don’t have to explain, babe. I get it.” Hawk kissed her head. Turning around, she cupped his chin in her hand, licked his lips, and kissed him possessively.
“Down deep, you’re a real sweetheart,” she murmured.
Holding her close, they sat on the ground, arms wrapped around each other, and watched the sparks of the bonfire spit and sputter. Well after the flames died to smoldering embers, they held each other.
* * *
Later that night, in his room, Hawk held Cara as she slept, allowing an intimacy he had never felt with any woman grab hold of him. It amazed him that he could enjoy holding a woman without fucking her. Remembering their fucking, his cock twitched. My wildcat is too fuckin’ hot. When I’m deep in her pussy, it’s like nothing in life matters except for her. Fuck, I need her in my life.
Earlier that day, Cara told him she was happy, and he wanted to tell her he was happy, too, but he couldn’t. Fearing that his revelation would give her the upper hand, he didn’t say anything. Shit, what the fuck is wrong with me? Cara is the best thing that’s happened to me besides the Insurgents. Why can’t I tell her how she makes me feel?
Trusting a woman was not in his makeup—in the end, they always fucked the man over. Even though what he had with Cara was good, it was almost too good, and dread permeated his mind at the thought of losing it. Fear she’d take off like his bitch mom gnawed at him. He couldn’t be sure Cara would stick around for the good and the bad, and although the barriers around his heart weakened, he wasn’t ready to give Cara all of it.
Shit, I’m fucked-up.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The early morning frost crunched under the detectives’ feet as the sun attempted to cut through the clouds’ grayness. The small group of men viewed the lifeless body of a young, blonde woman on the mountainside next to Platte Creek. Her body had all the earmarks of the Mountainside Strangler, a name coined by the Pinewood Springs Tribune.
“Fuck, the sick bastard did a number on her,” Earl McCue, lead detective, hissed through his teeth.
The men stood over the body and imagined the horrific way this young woman spent her last hours. The detectives were quiet; a few thought of their own daughters, safe at home in warm beds, while others thought of stringing up the sadistic fucker responsible for such havoc.
“He stepped up his game on this one,” observed Earl.
Young Jane Doe #8 had the same bruises, cuts, cigarette burns, and ligature marks around her neck as her predecessors. However, the killer added a new twist to his mayhem: he sliced off her nipples and slashed open her vagina.
In canvassing the area, the investigators located motorcycle tracks again, as well as car tracks. Earl had no doubt an outlaw biker gang was messed up with this. He didn’t think they did the murders, but their involvement was clear. Except for Hannah and Dana, all the other women the fucking monster tortured and killed were petite and blonde. They had also been Jane Does until Nadyia Kravchenko; the sheriff’s department received a big break when her sister identified her.
The two local women didn’t fit the pattern, but the way they were tortured and killed was the same as with the other victims. Fuck, we have to stop this sick bastard before he kills another. Earl rubbed his face, and the pressure to catch the serial killer possessed him. He lived and breathed this case, the images of murder victims invading his dreams. Knowing he’d never rest until he cracked it, Detective McCue shuffled around the area to look for more clues.
The morning wore on as the evidence was collected and bagged. Finally, the team of investigators, grim-faced and silent, treaded back to their vehicles as the body of Jane Doe #8, bagged and on a gurney, trailed behind.
* * *
Hawk woke Cara up as he rummaged through the small dresser drawers. Glancing at her, he saw her rubbing her eyes as she yawned. “What time is it?”
He came over and kissed her forehead. “Sorry, babe, I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s eight o’clock.”
“Damn, it’s too early to get up on a Sunday morning. Come back to bed.” She patted the empty space beside her.
Hawk stared at her hand. “Don’t tempt me. I gotta go. I’ll be back later.”
“Where are you going?”
“Club business.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“Club business, babe. You know I can’t tell you.”
“Are you going alone?”
“No, Jax, Axe, and Chas are going, too.” He came over, gave her a tight hug, kissed her, and pinched her exposed nipple. “You make it hard for me to leave,” he said, winking at her.
He kissed her pouting lips, then was gone.
Hawk and the others mounted their Harleys, but before he took off, he glanced up at the window. Cara watched him, standing at the window with a blanket draped over her naked body. It took all his strength to keep himself from running back to his room to fuck her. Tearing himself away from her gaze, he hit the open road. They had a mission to accomplish: scope out the Deadly Demons Nomads. The vote from the members was unanimous; they’d teach the fuckers the Insurgents did not tolerate any one fucking with them. Hawk chomped at the bit with anticipation, knowing he’d enjoy every punch to Viper’s face.
No one touched his woman.
* * *
Going back to bed, Cara tried to sleep, but Hawk had only been gone fifteen minutes and she already missed him. Feeling claustrophobic, she wished she could meet up with Sherrie, but knew she couldn’t. Since she’d arrived at the clubhouse, Hawk had given her strict orders not to leave the compound until he told her it was okay. Saying she was antsy was an understatement.
It wasn’t so bad when Hawk was around, but Cara’s confinement made her climb the walls. Anxious about her clients and the piles of work on her desk, she had to get back to work the following week, whether this thing with Viper was resolved or not. If she remained incognito, she might as well shut down her practice, and she wasn’t going to do that.
After a long shower, she turned on her laptop. When she typed in “Pinewood Springs,” the headline of the Tribune read, “Mountainside Strangler Strikes Again.” As Cara read the article, nausea assaulted her. Why can’t they catch this sadist?
Something wasn’t right. Cara grabbed her phone and sent a quick email to her buddy, Josh. Playing a hunch, she had to know if she was on the right track. Of course, Hawk would be livid if he knew she was still playing sleuth, but this was her club business.
After a couple of hours online, Cara’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten anything since early last night, so she padded to the kitchen to scrounge up some food.
When she came into the room, Brandi and Kristy sat at a table, drinking coffee. They looked like they had partied too much the night before—Brandi had her head in her hand while Kristy stared at the wall in front of her.
Cara opened the refrigerator and found eggs, green peppers, cheddar cheese, and leftover potatoes and made a quick meal. Sitting at the table across from the two women, she ate her breakfast burrito.
As Cara finished her food, Lola strode into the kitchen and glared at Cara. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?”