Mercy (Sin City Outlaws #2)(5)

“You still don’t get it, do you?” His tone is talking down to me, and it’s pissing me off more than I already am. He opens the door and slams it behind him. I contemplate just sitting here, seeing how far he walks before noticing I’m not with him. But I’m the one in cuffs, in the middle of nowhere.

“Shit!” Frustrated, I open the door and climb out, jogging to catch up to him.

“You’re right, I don’t get it. How the hell am I just supposed to believe I can’t go back and explain my innocence? Alessandra is practically my sister; she would have my back—I know it. Not to mention, who the hell is going to feed my cat?!” He ignores me, his eyes focused forward as his boots stomp along the dirt road. “You know what I think it is, you’re using me to save yourself!”

He turns, pinning me with a stare that stops me in my tracks and causes me to swallow hard. His hair is sticking to his face, his tan skin glistening with beads of sweat from the night’s humid air. It’s like the dirtier he gets, the hotter he gets.

“That is where you’re wrong. The only reason I’m here right now is because of you. Otherwise I would be back in Vegas taking my club back. Do you get that? Do you get that I chose you over saving my club?”

I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes searching his face for any indication that he’s lying.

“You’re—” I stumble on my words, not sure how to banter with that. “But my father, Lieutenant Oaks, you…” I trail off, so confused right now.

He runs his hands down his face, clearly agitated with me.

“I told you, I didn’t know who he was to you, Jillian. He was dirty though. You need to understand that. Do you get that?”

I can’t stop the tears from filling my eyes. “No, I don’t get that. It doesn’t make any sense at all, so why don’t you explain it?”

“Dirty is dirty, Jillian. It doesn’t matter now.” He shakes his head. “We need to keep moving, I don’t have time to explain this over and over to you. I can’t penetrate your naive little brain any more than I have.” His Adam’s apple bobs, and he grips my cuffs, pulling me after him.

“Why do you have to be such an *!?” I yank back on the cuffs to get his attention.

Looking over his shoulder, he jabs, “I guess you just bring it out in me, Rookie.”

That stung.

We walk for what seems like forever, and not one car drives by. The moon is high in the sky, and the wind is beginning to blow with a chill that has me shrinking into myself to keep warm.

My emotions are a mess. I don’t know what to accept as truth, and what is a lie. I’m always so sure of everything, until Zeek walked in my life. Now, I know nothing about nothing.

A shiver trembles from my lips causing my teeth to clatter. Zeek looks over his shoulder and stops.

“You cold?”

“I’m fine.”

Ignoring me, he shimmies his leather cut off.

“Here, this will help.”

I shake my head and hold my cuffed hands up.

“No, really I’m fine.” The last thing I want is to wear the insignia of the club that just offed one of my family members.

His face hardens, his eyes narrowing in on me.

He grips my upper arm turning me forcefully, and places the warm leather on my back. The smell of cologne, worn leather, and a hint of mint cocoon me in a blanket of danger. I find it comforting, the lingering scent a warning of adventure and risk. It’s no surprise I crave an adrenaline rush, and Zeek is a non-stop high.

Peering up under my lashes I catch Zeek looking me over hungrily, the look in his eyes anything but earnest. They’re hooded and trailing up and down my body unforgivingly.

“What?” I whisper. Running my hands down my pant legs I look down at myself a little uncomfortable.

“You look so beautiful wearing my cut.” He blinks, his eyes hardening like he didn’t mean to go there.

I swallow the lump of lust forming in my throat. My body flushes with excitement that wearing his cut is such a big deal to him. But my head battles with what the hell my body is thinking. It’s like there is a much more rational woman in my head waving little red flags around wildly, yelling, “Hello, he’s a cop killer, let’s not just go throwing our panties at him!”

Pressing on the small of my back he urges me forward, snapping me from my internal war on whether or not to hate the criminal, or toss my underwear to the side for him.

An old raggedy motel comes into view a few miles up. The sign reading Whispering Petal Inn. I quirk a brow at the name. It sounds like the name of a porn star.

I point at the motel.

“Maybe we can stop, get some water and rest our feet.”

Zeek stops, and looks over the building, rubbing his chin.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Getting closer the motel is an ugly blue color, and has ten rooms or less. It looks like something out of a scary movie.

“Maybe we should keep moving after all.”

Looking over his shoulder, the corner of Zeek’s mouth curves into a grin.

“You scared, Rookie?”

“Look at the place.” I gesture toward the beat up motel.

“I can assure you, it will be fine.”

“If you say so…” I respond and step forward hesitantly.