13. Thirteen

The sun was high in the sky by the time we hit the highway heading north on I-15, the endless stretch of blacktop shimmering with mirages in the desert heat. Jamie dozed fitfully in the passenger seat beside me, his long legs sprawled and his head lolling against the window. Dried blood still crusted his hair, the stitched gash at his temple red and angry looking.

I glanced over at him. Like the rest of us, he'd left his bloody clothes at the vet's to be tossed in the incinerator, trading them out for a set of bland scrubs. My gut twisted with an unfamiliar emotion. Guilt, maybe. Or something softer, more dangerous. Something I couldn't afford to examine too closely.

I never should have let things go this far with the kid. Never should have let myself get attached. It was a fucking liability in my line of work. The kind of weakness that got you dead or locked up for life.

I was a killer. Had been for a long damn time now. Spilling blood came as naturally to me as breathing. But I'd always had rules. Lines I didn't cross. Killing was business, nothing more. I didn't mix it with pleasure.

Until Jamie. The crazy little fucker blurred all my lines, smashed right through every wall I'd ever put up. Made me want things I had no right wanting. Made me feel things I didn't know I was still capable of feeling.

"So what's the plan, man?" Tammy asked, flicking her lighter.

I grunted, tapping my fingers on the worn steering wheel. "We head up 395 toward Reno. Stick to the back highways long as we can 'til we cross outta California. Romeo and his boys'll have eyes on I-5 and the southern routes."

"Reno?" Tammy exhaled a plume of smoke, her brassy blonde hair whipping in the hot wind from the open window. "I always wanted to go back to Vegas. That's where me and Deacon got married."

"This look like a fuckin' vacation to you?" I growled, my knuckles whitening on the wheel. "We're runnin' for our damn lives here. Gotta stay low, off the radar."

My eyes flicked to the rearview, scanning for any sign of a tail. Just the empty highway stretching out behind us, wavering in the heat. But I knew it was only a matter of time before Romeo caught our scent. The bastard had eyes and ears everywhere.

I pushed the accelerator down, urging my rig faster. The big diesel engine rumbled, the cab shaking as we picked up speed. Beside me, Jamie stirred, letting out a soft moan.

"Stu..." he mumbled, shifting restlessly. "Where...?"

"Go back to sleep, kid," I said gruffly. "Still got a long way to go."

I chewed on my lip, mulling it over as the miles rolled by. Maybe Tammy was onto something with this Vegas idea. Sin City was a good place to get lost for a while, disappear into the crowd. Plenty of shady motels where we could hole up, tend to the kid's wounds. Let things blow over with Romeo.

I glanced at Jamie again, a strange tightness in my chest. He looked so damn young and vulnerable curled up in the seat like that, his pretty face slack with exhaustion, those sinful lips parted slightly. An unfamiliar urge to protect him swept through me.

Fuck. I was going soft. Losing my edge. This was exactly why I didn't do partners, didn't get close to anyone. Attachments made you weak, clouded your judgment. But somehow this crazy kid had gotten under my skin.

"All right," I grunted, making the call. "Vegas it is. But we play it smart, keep our heads down."

"And then we go after the motherfucker who murdered my Dee-Dee?" Tammy asked, taking a long drag on her cigarette.

I grunted noncommittally in response to Tammy's question, my mind still churning. Part of me wanted blood for blood, to hunt down the sick fuck who'd tortured Deacon to death. But another part, the cold pragmatic part, knew that a quest for vengeance was a good way to wind up dead myself. Or worse, to get the kid killed.

I glanced over at Jamie again. He was still out cold, his chest rising and falling evenly. In sleep, the hard lines of his face softened, making him look almost innocent .

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" Tammy asked.

"Shut it," I growled, shooting her a warning glare.

But she didn't listen. "The way you look at him reminds me of how Deacon used to look at me when we first got together, all steam and sex. Goddamn, I'm gonna miss that fucker."

I didn't say anything, just kept my eyes on the road ahead. Love. What a fucking joke. I didn't know the meaning of the word. Never had, never would.

Jamie stirred again, letting out a soft whimper. Without thinking, I reached over and rested my hand on his thigh, my thumb rubbing soothing circles through the soft cotton scrubs. He settled instantly.

Fuck. I was in trouble. Deep fucking trouble.

I snatched my hand away, curling it into a fist on the wheel. I had to stay focused, remember the plan. Get to Vegas, lie low, wait for the heat to die down. Then I could figure out my next move.

But even as I told myself that, I knew it was a lie. There was no next move, no going back to the way things were before. Jamie had changed everything, flipped my world ass over teakettle. And now I was stuck with him, for better or worse.

The Proud Mary rumbled down the Strip, her chrome flashing under the neon lights that lit up the desert night. Towering casinos rose up on either side, their garish facades promising every vice imaginable. A seedy sea of pawn shops, strip clubs, and wedding chapels filled the gaps between the gambling meccas.

I eased my rig into the flow of traffic, just another anonymous big rig swallowed up by the glitz and grime of Sin City. Billboards flashed past, hawking everything from high-class call girls to all-you-can-eat buffets. It was the kind of town where you could satisfy any appetite, no matter how depraved. Where no one asked too many questions as long as you had cash to burn.

Jamie stirred in the passenger seat as we cruised past Circus Circus, the big top casino where vacationing rubes came to piss away their life savings. "We're here?" he mumbled groggily, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Welcome to Vegas, kid," I grunted.

Tammy leaned forward from the sleeper cab. "First time?" she asked as Jamie blinked owlishly at all the neon and flashing lights.

Jamie nodded slowly, his eyes wide as he took in the spectacle of the Strip at night. "Yeah."

There was something in his voice, a hint of old pain that made me glance over at him sharply. I remembered what he'd told me about the trucker who'd picked him up when he was just a punk kid hustling tricks on the road. The sick fuck who'd held him captive, brutalized him.

My hands tightened on the wheel, a cold fury knotting in my gut. If that bastard wasn't already dead, I'd hunt him down myself and smash his skull in with my bare hands. No one got to hurt the kid like that. No one but me.

Jesus. I gave myself a hard mental shake, disturbed by the direction of my thoughts. I was getting too attached, too possessive. Letting my emotions cloud my judgment.

I forced myself to focus on the road ahead, on the neon jungle of vice and sin closing in around us. "We'll get a couple rooms, lie low for a week or two," I said gruffly. "Long enough to get healed up and let things cool off with Romeo. Then we'll figure out our next move."

"A motel?" Tammy said, smoke curling from her nostrils. "Classy. You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Stu."

I scowled at Tammy in the rearview mirror. "You wanna go back to working the corners, be my guest. Me and the kid'll manage just fine on our own."

Tammy flipped me off, blowing a smoke ring. "Fuck you very much."

Jamie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes darting between us. "Whatever fleabag motel is fine by me. I'm not picky. I've slept in worse places."

There it was again, that hint of old hurt in his voice that set my teeth on edge. Made me want to wrap my hands around the throat of every sick fuck who'd ever laid a finger on him.

I pushed the thought away, pulling into the parking lot of the SleepEazy Motel. The flickering neon sign was missing several letters, dubbing it the 'Sle zy'. Classy joint.

"Stay put," I ordered as I threw the truck into park. "I'll go get us a pair of rooms."

The clerk behind the bullet-proof glass barely glanced up from his porno mag as I slid a couple of twenties through the slot. He passed me back two sets of keys attached to plastic diamond-shaped fobs.

"Rooms sixty-nine and seventy," he drawled, already turning back to his magazine. "Check out's at noon. No refunds."

I grunted my acknowledgment and scooped up the keys, heading back out to the rig. Jamie was leaning against the passenger door, smoking one of Tammy's Virginia Slims. The red glow illuminated his angular face, casting shadows beneath those sharp cheekbones. Damn, but he was a pretty thing.

"Got the rooms," I said gruffly, jerking my chin toward the faded pink doors. "You and me will take sixty-nine. Tammy will be next door in seventy."

Jamie raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

I snorted. "Just a room number, kid. Don't read into it."

But even as I said it, I couldn't stop my gaze from dropping to his mouth, to those full, sinful lips wrapped around the cigarette. Jamie noticed, his smirk widening into a wicked grin. He took a long, slow drag, hollowing his cheeks obscenely.

Fuck. The little tease was playing with fire and he damn well knew it. Blood rushed south as I watched him, pooling heavy in my groin. I shifted, my pants suddenly way too tight.

Jamie blew out the smoke in a long exhale, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips. "Whatever you say, Stu."

Goddamn. I nearly swallowed my tongue at that.

Tammy rolled her eyes as she grabbed her bag from the sleeper cab. "I'm gonna go grab a shower. You boys have fun."

"Hold up." I counted out a portion of the cash and shoved it in her hands. "You're gonna need some new clothes and supplies. Don't go hog wild, though. Funds are limited."

"This is Vegas, baby," she said with a grin. "Your funds are only limited by your imagination."

She sauntered off toward her room, her hips swaying. I watched her go, trying like hell to get my body back under control. It was one thing to acknowledge that Jamie was attractive in an objective sense. The kid had the kinda looks that could stop traffic. But it was another thing entirely to pop a stiffie every time he so much as glanced in my direction.

I grabbed my gear from behind the seat, slinging the duffel over my shoulder. "C'mon," I grunted. "Let's get settled in."

Jamie took one last drag before flicking the cigarette away. The lit end pinwheeled through the air, landing on the oil-stained asphalt. He grabbed the duffel bag full of money and fell into step beside me as we headed for the room.

The key stuck in the lock, forcing me to jiggle it a few times before the door finally creaked open. I stepped inside the dingy motel room, Jamie close on my heels. The air smelled stale, like old cigarette smoke and industrial cleaner.

A sagging queen-sized bed dominated the small space, its comforter a garish paisley print that might have been fashionable back in the seventies. A battered dresser with a chipped veneer squatted against one wall, an ancient TV bolted to its top. Limp floral curtains hung at the window, blocking out the neon glow of the Strip.

I dropped my duffel on the bed, the springs groaning under its weight. Jamie shut the door behind us, flipping the deadbolt with a soft snick. The sound made my pulse kick up a notch.

We were alone. Really alone, for the first time since this whole crazy roller coaster had started. No Tammy chain smoking in the passenger seat, no imminent threat of a gangbanger's bullet in the back. Just me and Jamie, shut away from the world in this crummy little room.

Jamie set the money bag down more gently, his eyes roaming the room before settling back on me. There was a new tension between us, electric and pulsing. I could feel it like a physical thing, raising all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.

Jamie sauntered over to the bed, perching on the edge with his long legs sprawled wide. He leaned back on his hands, the position making his shirt ride up to reveal a strip of toned stomach. My eyes zeroed in on that tantalizing patch of skin like a heat-seeking missile.

"So..." Jamie drawled, "Just you and me, Stu. Whatever will we do to pass the time?"

His voice was pure sin, low and smoky with invitation. I swallowed hard, trying to hold on to my rapidly fraying control.

"Change your bandages for starters," I said gruffly, averting my eyes from the temptation of his body.

Jamie laughed, a husky sound that went straight to my cock. "You know how to show a guy a good time."

But he didn't protest as I grabbed the first aid kit and sat beside him on the bed. The stained mattress dipped under our combined weight, making him slide closer until our thighs brushed. Even through layers of clothing, that simple contact was enough to make my blood burn hot.

I focused on the task at hand, carefully peeling away the old gauze taped to his temple. The stitches had scabbed over, but it was still an angry red. I dabbed at it with antiseptic, my touch gentler than I ever thought myself capable of. Jamie hissed through his teeth, but held still.

"Sorry," I mumbled, smoothing a fresh bandage in place.

"Kiss it better?" he suggested with a wicked grin.

I snorted. "Nice try, kid."

But when I made to pull back, he caught my wrist. His fingers were hot bands around my pulse point. "I'm not a kid, Stu. I haven't been for a long damn time."

There was no mistaking the heat in his gaze as it raked over me, lingering on my mouth. Fuck. He was going to be the death of me.

"You should heal up some before we go messing around again," I said firmly .

He rolled his eyes. "You didn't seem to care when you had me bent over the bathroom sink in that veterinary hospital."

I gritted my teeth, the memory of taking him hard and fast against that grimy sink flashing through my mind in vivid technicolor. The desperate sounds he'd made, the tight heat of his body clenching around me. I'd never wanted anyone the way I wanted him in that moment. The way I still wanted him now, even beat to hell and bandaged.

"That was different," I said gruffly, trying to banish the vivid images from my mind. "We both needed to blow off some steam after all the shit that went down. But you took a hard knock to the head. You need rest."

Jamie made a low sound of frustration. "What I need is you, Stu." His hand slid up my thigh, palming the bulge of my hard-on through my jeans.

I groaned, my hips rocking into his touch. It would be so goddamn easy to give in, to let him have his wicked way with me. To lose myself in his tight, willing body and block out the rest of the world, if only for a night.

But I couldn't let myself forget what he was: a liability. A weakness that could be exploited if I let my guard down. If I let myself care too much.

"Kid..." I protested, but it came out embarrassingly close to a whimper as he popped the button on my fly, slipping his hand inside. I caught his wrist and held his gaze. "We both need to rest."

Jamie stared back at me, defiance and desire warring in his eyes. For a long, charged moment, we just looked at each other, the air between us crackling with tension. Then he abruptly pulled his hand free of my grip .

"Fine," he said coolly, rising from the bed in one fluid motion. "You rest. I'm going to take a shower."

He grabbed the duffel of spare clothes and stalked toward the bathroom, his lean hips swaying enticingly. I watched him go, my cock throbbing almost painfully against my zipper. It took every ounce of my fraying self-control not to follow him, to strip him bare and take what he was so blatantly offering.

The bathroom door slammed shut with a bang, making me flinch. A second later, I heard the hiss of the shower spray and a low groan from Jamie that sounded unmistakably like my name.

"Fuck," I hissed, falling back against the faded bedspread. That kid really was going to be the death of me.