Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

BABETTE

Dash is a gorgeous animal when awake, but asleep, he’s majestic. He sprawls out and takes up the bed with sinewy arms and thick thighs. His chest hair gathers in whorls beneath his belly button, trailing off into his bright red boxers. It’s silly of me to feel shy about looking lower. This is the man who took my virginity beneath the moon last night, down and dirty, then held me like a priceless treasure as I slept.

Setting my chin, I let my gaze fall to the steep rise of his hard penis, the rounded pedestals of his balls, all outlined beneath thin material. My pulse goes triple time. God above. There is nothing left to mystery in the morning sunlight that washes down over his body lovingly.

His past, however, is a mystery to me. Where he came from and where he hopes to go. I can see the deep etches of pain around his mouth, at the corners of his eyes. There’s a lot to discover about Dash, and if I’m patient, I think he’ll let me.

I sit up carefully so I don’t disturb him, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Although this is a nicer motel than we stayed in the first night together, the carpet that greets my feet is still scratchy and worn. No matter, though. I love it. I love that I’m waking up with no idea of what adventures lie ahead. Dash is going to wake up soon, and my belly heats thinking of what he’ll do to me. If his tented shorts offer any prediction, he’s going to use my body to ease himself.

There’s already wetness pooling between my thighs even though I’m still pretty sore. It’s as if my body and mind are in agreement that they want to please Dash at any cost, even a little tenderness during and after. Wanting to be here when he wakes up, I stand, searching the room for a bottle of water. I’m always dehydrated first thing in the morning and usually sleep with a glass of water on my nightstand. Since I’d been half-asleep when we walked in, water had been the furthest thing from my mind. My throat is parched now, though, and I know there must be a vending machine outside, as with all motels.

I pull on a long, sunshine-yellow T-shirt and hunt for singles in my bag, before easing quietly out of the room. Knowing I’ll only be a minute, I leave the door propped open half an inch with the metal doorstopper, then creep out into the bright sunshine. There’s a smile playing around my lips as I look out at the closest row of cars in the parking lot, deducing we’re still in Louisiana based on the license plates. Wonder where we’ll go next. I’ve always wanted to see Florida. Maybe even the East Coast someda—

“What do we have here, fellas?”

An arm snakes out of the concrete stairwell to my right, jerking me off balance and out of the sun. I’m so stunned, it takes me a few seconds to process I’m in danger. Crazy enough, I think maybe Dash is playing a joke and scaring me, even though it would be impossible for him to move so fast. But when a hand slaps over my mouth and I recognize the men surrounding me, the danger stabs me in the spine like a hot knife, and I immediately begin to hyperventilate. My choked scream is caught in the palm of a meaty hand. I get a warning squeeze that causes my teeth to cut into my gums, sending a metallic taste rushing into my mouth.

They found us. The men we stole from last night found us. How? Dash drove at least fifty miles from their location, passing at least ten motels on the way, twisting down back roads. They must have searched all through the night, asking about people who fit our description. And now…now they have me. Dash is asleep at the other end of the motel and they have me.

What are they going to do?

Tears cloud my vision, but I blink them back and focus on the man who’s sneering so close to my face. He’s the one who asked for a peek up my dress, the one who touched himself so crudely in front of me. He’d scared me last night, and in the light of day, he’s even more terrifying. Because he’s not tipsy and ignorant, he’s downright pissed.

“Where’s your daddy, girl?”

The hand over my mouth lifts for a split second, and I let loose a piercing scream, before it claps back down, cutting me off. The man who addressed me rears back with a hand and slaps me across the face, hard enough to make my ears ring. Something cold and metal presses against my throat, and I know. I know without looking, he’s taken out a knife.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, pretty thing. Where’s that son-of-a-bitch father of yours?” The knife presses down and moisture trickles out from beneath the blade. My blood. “We aim to get our money back. You’re going to lead us to it, nice and quietly. If you scream one more time, I’ll cut your throat. Be a shame, you having that pretty singing voice and all, wouldn’t it?”

There is no way in hell I’m taking these men to Dash. He’s asleep and unprepared. They’ll murder him and it’ll be my fault for leaving the room alone. And I might be young, but I’m not stupid enough to think they’ll spare me afterward. We’ll both be dead. The hand releases my mouth, and I take a hard swallow. “Daddy left. He won’t be back for a few days.”

“Bull. Shit.” Sneering Man leans in so close, I can smell his sour hangover breath, count the veins in his eyes. I have the urge to vomit, but I force my expression to remain steady. Until he drops the knife and slashes my T-shirt straight down the middle, nicking my skin in several places on the way down. “If that’s your story, though, I guess we can find a way to pass the time until he comes back, huh?” Using the tip of the knife, he parts the shirt and sucks in a breath over revealing my body, which is totally nude, save my panties.

Around him, the men crowd in to get a better look, and the energy changes in a snap. It goes from hostile to hungry in a heartbeat, the men already unzipping their pants, grunting as they reach into the opening of their flies, forearms flexing. Oh God. Are they going to…touch me, hurt me right here? Outside in the stairwell?

The motel is dead silent this early in the morning. Anyone coming to my aid would be outnumbered, so they probably wouldn’t even bother, would they? I don’t know. I just don’t—

My breath is knocked from my lungs as I’m spun and shoved up against a wall, my cheek scraping off the stucco. More than one set of hands kneads my bottom roughly. My panties are yanked down to my ankles to a chorus of groans. And I can’t help it, I start to cry. Warm, salty tears coat my cheeks, my throat feeling punctured with holes as the sneering man plants a flat palm on the wall above my head, guiding himself roughly between the cheeks of my backside—

The horror stops. Like the snap of two fingers. The sound of a heavy object collapsing behind me is followed by the deadliest voice I’ve ever heard in my life. “Would anyone else like a bullet for breakfast?”

Dash.It’s Dash. I almost collapse with relief, turning to run the panties back up my legs, cover my breasts with the slashed shirt. My progress stutters slightly when I see the hole in Sneering Man’s head and the pool of blood forming on the concrete landing. I command myself to move, though. Move toward my savior, who is clad only in unbuttoned jeans, no shirt or shoes. He’s eerily still, his gun—complete with silencer—leveled in the men’s direction.

They all put their hands up, half of them leaving their male flesh dangling out.

Without lowering his firearm, Dash reaches into his pocket and removes a handkerchief, pressing it to my bleeding cheek with barely concealed rage. “They’ll pay for that.”

“I’m fine—”

“In my waistband, baby,” Dash whispers hoarsely, that familiar cold malice marking his words. “Take the other gun out. Point it at every one of the dead motherfuckers that touched you so Daddy knows who to kill next.”

Is it wrong that my nipples tighten? Is it terrible that sparkles prance along the edge of my vision? I’m excited. Or I’m hopped up on adrenaline, like last night. The giddiness invades me all over, like I’m made solely of funny bones and someone is tapping me with a rubber hammer.

But my logical brain is intruding, reminding me this is real life. In real life, people don’t get away with shooting men in public. Dash could get into a lot of trouble and all because I left the stupid room alone. We need to move and move fast, before someone walks out and witnesses the scene or calls the police. I can’t let Dash go to prison for defending me.

“Let’s leave,” I whisper in Dash’s ear, my fingers picking their way along his abdomen, rubbing over the sleek ridges of heaving muscle. “I’m fine. We need to go now. Forget about them.”

“Forget about them?”Torture and misery collide in his demeanor, his gun-holding hand starting to shake. “They were going to rape you, Babs. Your…your goddamn mouth, your face…they’re bleeding. Blood on my girl.” He slams the butt of the gun into his temple, baring his teeth. “Fuck. Fuck.”

In my periphery, I see one of the men slowly lowering a hand and I catch a glint of metal around the back of his hip. Before I can warn Dash, there’s a shhhhpop noise. The man jerks, his cry of pain short, before he goes down. That only leaves two men and yeah, they look scared. Heck, I’m a little scared of Dash right now. Blood trickles down his temple where he struck himself, and there’s madness in his eyes. Insanity.

“Are there more of you?” he asks the men in a voice that could freeze a summer breeze. “I’ll know if you’re lying, and you really don’t want that.”

“It’s just us,” the man who initially grabbed me says, and I notice there’s a wet stain gathering along the inside of his pant leg. “Four of us, that’s all. I swear.”

“Dash…” I whisper, ready to urge him again to leave.

“Go to the room and grab only the important things, baby.” Controlled hysteria. That’s the only way I can describe him in this moment. “Bring them down to the car, lock the doors, start the engine. And wait. Don’t open the goddamn doors for anyone but me.”

“What are you going to do to—”

“Go!” he shouts at me through clenched teeth, his eyes wild.

I’m already moving by the time I hear the next body drop.