Author: Jaci Burton

Larks had suffered all right, but it hadn’t been at Joey’s hands, or the hands of any of the other Thorns. And now it was up to Teresa to find the man who did it, so her brother could get out of jail.

The problem was, none of the Fists were at any of their typical hangouts. They rode around to the bars, the bowling alley and the pizza place Teresa knew they frequented, and there wasn’t a single bike—or biker—around. It was like they were hiding out. Or simply not there.

After an hour and multiple trips, Teresa tapped Pax on the shoulder. “Give it up. They’re not here.”

Pax nodded and led them out toward the highway and south, back to Teresa’s place. She realized as Pax pulled the bike into her driveway that she’d been so preoccupied with finding the guy who stabbed Larks, had been so worried about Joey, that she hadn’t once thought about being on a bike again.

One test passed with flying colors, at least.

They went inside. Teresa pulled a few beers out of the refrigerator and brought them into the living room, stopping for just a moment before she stepped fully into the room, still taken aback at the sheer size of the two men who stood there.

A normal woman would have died to be in the same room with these two men.

A normal woman would have.

She craved that feeling, wanted it more than anything. All it took was some determination and she’d have it.

She relaxed her shoulders and brought the beers in, handed them off and took a seat on the chair across from the sofa. Putting herself in between them was just too much. She was already aware of herself as a woman whenever she was with them, and she wasn’t ready. Or maybe being with them made her feel more ready than she had been in years, and diving into that scared her.

Coward.

“So the Fists were nowhere to be found,” AJ said, his gaze fixed on Teresa. “Maybe they were out riding.”

“If they were riding in their own territory I would think we’d have run into them,” Teresa said. “I think they were somewhere else.”

“Or in hiding,” Pax said.

Teresa screwed the top off her bottle of beer and took a long swallow, letting the cool liquid coat her parched throat. She leaned back and kicked off her boots, pulling her feet underneath her. “Why would they be hiding?”

“To protect the guy who killed Larks.”

She hadn’t thought about that. “You might be right.”

AJ leaned forward. “What about Joey’s guys? They might know.”

“They might.” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Russ and see if he knows anything.”

She dialed the number. After a few rings, Russ answered, the sound of loud music in the background. Teresa had to yell for Russ to hear her. Obviously, he was in a bar. But not her bar, since it was still closed. She grimaced at the thought of all that lost revenue and waited while Russ stepped outside, away from the noise. She could tell from the sound of his voice he wasn’t happy to hear she had been on a ride up north. Then again, all the guys were protective of her.

Russ had no idea where the Fists could be, but he spent some time spewing invectives about his dislike of the gang and pointed the blame at them for Joey being in jail. Teresa didn’t disagree.

“He couldn’t shed any light on where the Fists might be,” she said as she slid her phone onto the coffee table.

“They can’t hide forever. Once they surface, we can go looking for the guy who stabbed Larks. If they’re protecting him, we’ll uncover him.” AJ leaned back against the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table.

While AJ and Pax sat quietly drinking their beers, Teresa studied them side by side. AJ, with his dark good looks and smoky gray eyes, had always made her heart tumble. He had that sexy, bad-boy quality about him that would make any woman look twice. Pax had dirty blond hair that he wore short and spiked, a dark goatee lining his jaw, his body all lean muscle, the kind of body a woman would want to run her hands all over. The two men were a study in contrasts—so different and yet so similar. Both screaming masculine and sexy, commanding a woman’s attention in ways that were elemental and yet inexplicable.

And she suddenly pictured herself between those two men, their hands gliding over her naked body, their lips pressed against her skin. Being sandwiched between them, touching them in turn, allowed access to their bodies, sliding down to worship their cocks—first one, then the other. They stood still and allowed her to touch, to taste, and only when she’d satisfied her curiosity did they pull her up and turn her face to each of them and kiss her. She wondered about their mouths, their tongues, the different tastes and textures, what it would be like to have that sensation of both of them kissing her, both of them doing . . . everything to her, with her.

Heat settled between her legs, a pounding ache and awareness and need that hadn’t been there in far too long. Her breasts felt full and her nipples tingled. She blinked and looked in the direction of the men of her fantasies, and found both of them staring right at her.

They knew. Somehow they knew what she’d been thinking about. It reflected back to her as they looked at her. AJ’s eyes had gone even darker, a storm on the horizon as his gaze locked with hers. Pax’s gaze was molten heat, all directed at her in a blast as hot as this August summer.

She should look away, move, get out of the room. But she was melted to the chair, unable to break the spell that tied her to these two men. And when Pax stood and moved toward her, her heart knocked against her chest, but it wasn’t fear shaking her—it was desire, curiosity, the need to continue to experience the sensations and emotions she was feeling.

Instead of looming over her, he dropped to his knees at the side of her chair. Teresa inhaled the scent of leather, of sweat, of man. She wanted to reach out and trace her fingertips over his goatee, but she didn’t, her hands gripping the chair arms so tight her muscles protested from the effort.

Pax smoothed his hand over her head, down along her hair, gently reaching the ponytail holder and drawing it down, releasing her hair. He didn’t say anything, just slid his fingers through her hair, draping some of it over her shoulder. She didn’t consider anything he did to be out of bounds or dangerous. Except the look in his eyes, the deliberate sensuality she saw there—which he let her see—screamed danger at the highest decibel level.

She heard AJ rise from the couch. From the corner of her eye she saw him move toward her—toward them. He slid to his knees in front of her chair and laid his hands ever so lightly on her legs, pressing in just enough so she knew he was there.

Oh, she knew he was there. She was surrounded by two men who had awakened her libido to a screaming frenzy.

But could she do anything about it? Did she dare?

“There’s something you want that you’re denying yourself.”

Teresa shifted her gaze to Pax. She swallowed, her throat so dry she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to speak.

AJ slid his hand to her knee. Easy, a nonthreatening touch. “You’re skittish. Do we scare you?”

She turned her focus to AJ, forcing the words out. “No. You two don’t scare me at all.”

She felt the movement of Pax’s hand against her neck, lightly teasing her hair, massaging the tight muscles there. He leaned in and his breath caressed her ear. Her chest tightened as he pressed a kiss to her neck. She closed her eyes as desire flooded her.

AJ moved his hands further along her legs, light and easy movements, his fingers dancing along the denim to her ankles. He pulled her feet out from under her and let her legs drape over him, rubbing her calves with his strong fingers while Pax slid his tongue along her throat. Her breasts strained against her bra, her nipples tight with agonized pleasure. She fought for breath as delicious sensation danced along her nerve endings.

She wanted this so much, yet even as she did, the images assaulted her. She was on the ground and someone was spreading her legs, holding her down, tearing at her clothes. She fought to get away.

The heat and delicious sensation shattered as cold fear took hold of her.

Anger battered her, that even now, five years later, it still haunted her.

“I can’t do this. Not yet.” She pushed, and AJ released her as Pax backed away. Teresa stood and turned to them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t even look at them, had to get away. She went to her bedroom and shut the door, felt foolish even as she locked it, but couldn’t help herself. She still needed that barrier of safety between her and them.

Between her and men.

EIGHT

AJ WATCHED, STUNNED, AS TERESA LEFT THE ROOM. HE WENT to the hall to follow her, but she shut the door and he heard the snick of the lock, effectively shutting him out.

He walked back into the living room and stood there.

“Damn” was all Pax said.

“Yeah.” AJ sat on the sofa and grabbed his beer, finishing it off in two swallows. “You want another?”

Pax nodded, and AJ went to the fridge and grabbed a couple bottles, handed one off to Pax. “I don’t get it.”

Pax shook his head. “She was fine one minute. I felt her, man. Her body was hot, liquid relaxed and responding to us. The next second she froze up, went stiff and pale and shot out of here like she was spooked.”

“A lot of women can’t handle two men.”

“True enough. But it was more than that. Way more than that.”

AJ knew Pax was right. The problem was, what were they going to do about it?

“You need to talk to her.”

AJ’s brows lifted. “Me? Why me?”

“You have the past with her. You know her better than I do. She might be more comfortable talking to you.”

“I don’t think so. Leave it alone.”

“There’s something wrong. This went way beyond a simple ‘Hey, I just don’t want to be with two guys’ kind of thing. She’s afraid and I don’t want to leave it alone.”

AJ took a few swallows and pointed his beer at Pax. “That’s your problem and always has been. You push when you shouldn’t.”

“You lay back because you don’t want to confront. Some things are better out in the open.”

“And some things are better left alone.”

“We aren’t talking about how fucked up you are, AJ. We’re talking about Teresa.”

“You’re the one who wants to psychoanalyze everyone, Pax. So you go talk to her.”

“Fine. I will.” Pax disappeared down the hall. It took AJ a few seconds of fuming, just like it always did when he and Pax got into it. Then he stood and met Pax at Teresa’s door.

Pax was leaning against the wall, his lips lifted in a knowing smile. “I waited for you,” he whispered.

“Asshole.” AJ knocked on the door, light and easy, not wanting to make her think he was demanding to be let in. “Teresa? Can we talk to you?”

No answer for a minute or so. AJ was about to knock again.

“It’s not locked anymore. You can come in.”

He cringed at the softness in her voice, sensed her reluctance. He didn’t want to do this, but Pax was right—they needed to know if there was something they’d done wrong. AJ turned the knob and pushed the door. It opened. The room was dark. Teresa sat in the window seat, the moonlight casting a silver glow over her. Her knees were drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

“It is okay if Pax and I come in?”

She nodded, still looking out the window. AJ came into the room, Pax behind him. He circled around the bed but stopped there, not wanting to make her feel cornered.

“Five years ago I was riding my bike home after I closed down the bar. It was . . . two-thirty, three A.M., something like that,” she said, not looking at them. Obviously she was ready to talk, though. AJ took a seat on the corner of the mattress. Pax leaned against the wall.