Golden Trail

Chapter Fourteen Scared of the Dark

Layne let Rocky into the house and Blondie assaulted them both at the same time.

Rocky took control and forced the dog into the kitchen with her hands and legs, giving Blondie scratches behind the ears as she did it.

Layne saw a note on the island and didn’t pick it up to read it seeing as the big black scrawl could be read from across a room.

“Out,” was all Devin had written.

Layne smiled at the note as he moved to the sliding glass door, disarmed the alarm which was always set for doors and windows since the dog would trip it if they used the sensors in the house. He pulled out the steel rod at the door and slid it open. Blondie immediately lost interest in Rocky and raced out the door.

“Tell me again why, when you’re working, I shouldn’t just sleep at home?” Layne heard Rocky ask, Layne slid the door to and turned to her.

They’d had this conversation in the car. He thought he’d convinced her. Clearly, Rocky remained unconvinced.

“Because enough people in town saw what went down tonight which means that most the rest of the town will hear about it before sun up tomorrow. After that shit went down with me and Jasper involved, they’d expect my woman to show her support, not sleep in her own bed,” Layne reiterated the point he’d made on the way home.

Again, he knew this was lame.

And again, she appeared to be buying it, if hesitantly.

She bit her lip, let it go then remarked, “But my car is at my house, they won’t know.”

Layne thought about Natalie and then he thought about Natalie’s big mouth.

“They’ll know,” he replied.

She visibly got nervous and cried, “Layne! They aren’t watching that closely!”

He shook his head. “You’re wrong, baby.”

She stared at him. He held her stare.

Then he said softly, “Get ready for bed, Roc.”

“Layne –”

“Bed, sweetcheeks, I’ve got to go.”

She stared at him some more. Then she bought it and Layne knew this because she sighed, loudly and heavily, and strutted to the stairs and up them.

Layne watched until she rounded the top and disappeared then he followed.

By the time he got up the stairs, Rocky had vanished into his room. Layne turned on the light over his desk and grabbed a digital camera from a drawer. He checked the battery and memory card then grabbed an extra one of both. He opened the drawer with the key to one of the cabinets in the unit taped to the bottom, yanked it off, unlocked the cabinet and took off his leather jacket, swinging it around the back of the chair. He pulled the shoulder holster with the .22 out, checked its load and hooked it around his shoulders. Then he pulled the holster with the .38 out and clipped it to his belt. Devin had taught him you could never be too careful and one part of careful equaled firepower. Since Devin taught him that, Layne had learned that Devin was right and life had proved that Layne was lucky to have learned it prior to learning it the hard way.

Layne locked the cabinet, replaced the key, shrugged his coat on, dropped the battery and memory card in his pocket and walked into the bedroom.

Rocky was moving out of the bathroom wearing his tee.

Layne didn’t hesitate. It was preview time. She was getting her guard back up and his job was to tear it right down.

He got in her space, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to his body.

She tipped her head back and put her hands on his chest. “Layne.”

His other hand went into her ponytail, he tagged the holder, slid it out and tossed it across the room toward his dresser where it skidded across the top and over the back to disappear, probably forever, or until he moved.

A good place for it to be.

“Layne!” Rocky snapped and shoved at his shoulders.

He looked down at her, her hair around her face and shoulders, her eyes igniting. Then he bunched her hair in his palm as he cupped the back of her head, tilted it to the side and his mouth came down on hers. She’d opened it, possibly to snap his name again, which was not a good move.

Layne took advantage, slid his tongue right inside her sweet mouth and he kissed her, deep, wet, hard and for a very long time. It had been a few days, he needed his fix. So he took it and kissed her long enough that he was losing his motivation for this mission; long enough that her fingers had curled around the edges of his jacket and she was holding on and holding him to her.

He thought that should just about do it. For now.

He lifted his head and saw her eyes were unfocused, gazing up at him.

She was off-balance, guard down, perfect.

He lifted his hand to cup her jaw and ran his thumb along her cheekbone as he whispered, “Sleep tight, sweetcheeks.”

His thumb moved to her lips so he felt as well as heard her breathy, “Okay.”

He grinned at her, turned and left the room, grabbing his camera before he went down the stairs. He let Blondie in, secured the door, set the alarm and headed out of his house.

When Layne arrived at the bar he saw Ryker wasn’t in the mood to have a drink and socialize. He was standing outside the front door, shoulders and the sole of one boot to the wall, biker jacket opened and Layne was right, another black tank was stretched across his massive chest. He was enjoying a smoke but flicked it in a wide arc when he saw the Suburban swing into the lot. He pushed away from the wall and Layne slid the truck to a halt in front of the doors.

Layne looked at the clock on his dash as Ryker folded his huge frame into the passenger seat and it was eleven oh seven.

Ryker slammed the door and instantly reached between his legs to push the seat back the two centimeters it had to give and then he adjusted the seatback so it was nearly in full on recline as if he was preparing to cruise with his homies.

“You’re late,” Ryker noted on a grunt once he’d settled in and Layne accelerated to turn around in the lot.

“Needed time to say goodnight to my woman,” Layne replied.

“I’ll accept that excuse,” Ryker muttered.

It was nuts but Layne couldn’t help it. He was beginning to like this guy.

As Layne drove, Ryker gave him directions and he also gave him information. They hit the storage units in Speedway and Layne knew instantly why this was the pay point. Easy to get to at the same time off the beaten track, neighborhood not close and also not great and the lighting was shit which meant rent on the units was either low or the people who rented there were stupid. No one around to hear or see and the light was so dim, if someone was around, they couldn’t be sure what they were seeing.

Layne cut the lights, parked behind a unit, they got out and Ryker guided them to their position.

When Ryker exited his SUV, Layne had noted he had a .45 shoved in the back of his jeans and he wasn’t hiding the huge-ass knife clipped to his belt. He might be beginning to like Ryker but he still didn’t trust him so he kept to Ryker’s back.

Ryker didn’t seem to mind.

The temperature had dropped and the bitter wind had not died down. It was fucking freezing, he was in Speedway, in the dark, with a man he didn’t trust who was a little nuts, crouching beside a big garbage container and Rocky’s soft, warm body was at home, in his tee, in his bed.

Definitely he needed a new job.

They waited twenty minutes and conversation was scarce, as in non-existent, which meant it was a long twenty minutes. Then the guy walked up.

Five foot six, maybe seven, slight, he had half a head of hair, the top so bald it shone in the dim lights lighting the storage unit. Wearing a navy windbreaker that probably wasn’t doing shit to break the wind. Company logo on the chest. Chinos. Visibly nervous. Layne pegged him as I.T. or an accountant. Probably I.T.

Looking at the guy, Layne hoped he had the money. He needed Stew out of his sons’ and Gabby’s lives but he didn’t want to watch Stew working this guy over. He didn’t particularly want to watch Stew working anyone over but especially not this guy.

Stew and his crew of three arrived ten minutes later, the guy was wired by the time they got there and the minute he saw them, he became jittery.

Shit, he didn’t have the money.

Layne assessed the scene. Stew did not need a crew to deal with this guy. Especially not this crew of thugs. He brought one because he was an asshole.

Layne lifted the camera, quickly and expertly adjusted the telephoto and started shooting.

Stew no sooner made it to him than the guy handed over an envelope. Stew took it, bent his head to it, thumbed through what was inside, handed it to a lackey at his back and then turned and hammered the guy, fist to cheekbone.

There it was. The envelope was light.

Layne shoved back the instinct to move in and kept taking shots as Stew whaled on him with his fists until he was down and then kicked him in the ribs with his boot four times after he was down. The guy was curled in a ball on the pavement, whining, loudly and shrilly, “It’s all I’ve got!” when Stew stopped, bent over, said something to the guy that Layne couldn’t hear, his finger in his face, he lifted up, kicked him one more time and then stood over the guy, staring down.

It was at that point when Layne would understand why Ryker said Stew had a special flair.

The guy was down, cowed and beaten, bleeding from the face and likely had one or more broken ribs. The message had been delivered and, by the look of him, the guy would talk his grandma into selling her plasma so the next payment wouldn’t be light.

Stew still pulled a gun out of his jeans and drilled a round in the prone man’s thigh. The guy cried out in agony and curled into himself deeper, cradling his thigh.

Flesh wound, it’d bleed like a motherfucker and hurt worse, but it was way over the top.

Then Stew kicked him again, this time in the spine, turned, jerked his head at his crew and they all disappeared.

Layne tensed to move toward the guy but Ryker curled a meaty hand around Layne’s shoulder.

“Focus, bro,” he whispered. “Tonight you’re a hero for your boys, not this guy. Let’s go. Baranski’s not done.”

Layne clenched his jaw, knowing Ryker was right. It would be the right thing to do but being seen would also jeopardize the mission. People talked even if you told them to keep their traps shut. He didn’t need his and Ryker’s attendance at the festivities getting out.

Though Ryker was right and Layne was pissed about it, he still moved through the shadows with Ryker to the Suburban. Once they were in the cab, they still had eyes on the guy and Layne waited with Ryker, both of them silent, until the guy crawled to his feet, arm wrapped around his ribs, bent nearly double with his other hand at his thigh, blood oozing between his fingers, and he scuttled into the night dragging his bad leg.

When they lost sight of him, Ryker muttered, “Bet that dipshit lost the urge to visit the track anytime soon.”

Layne turned to Ryker, not in the mood for a breakdown. “Stew has another collection?”

Ryker shook his head, Layne felt his eyes on him in the dark and he didn’t get a good feeling when he saw the white of Ryker’s smile. “Nope. After he’s done a job, he gets horny.”

“Come again?” Layne asked.

“Your ex ain’t gonna like those photos you just took but he’s got her hooked deep and he knows it. You wanna be certain to get a woman to set a man out, you show her pictures of that man porkin’ another woman. Even Baranski isn’t stupid enough for you to show him those kind of shots and not know his time in Big Momma’s House o’ the Free Ride is up.”

This just got worse and worse.

Jesus.

“You know where he’ll be?” Layne asked but he knew Ryker knew.

“Yeah,” Ryker sounded like he was laughing. “Sorry bro, ‘bout to show you the only thing that’ll put you off that piece you got waitin’ for you at home.”

“Great,” Layne muttered and started the SUV through Ryker’s chuckle.

Ryker led him to a trailer park just out of the ‘burg. Negotiating it, Layne knew that Stew’s other woman might not carry extra baggage like Gabby, on her body and through two boys fathered by another man, but she wasn’t a supermodel either.

Layne cut the lights when Ryker told him they were rolling close, parked where Ryker instructed and they both walked through the cold, silent dark of the trailer park. When they got to the trailer Ryker indicated, one end was lit, the curtains opened. Ryker stayed clear and kept lookout as Layne approached the trailer.

When he got there, Layne saw that Stew was already celebrating and Ryker’s information, already proved legit, became even more so. She was naked on her hands and knees, she was absolutely no supermodel, Stew was naked behind her and he was going through the backdoor. Not pretty.

Layne’s mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed it down.

Jesus.

He definitely needed a new job.

He wasted no time and didn’t try to hide. He’d done this often enough. Even with him right at the window, they weren’t going to spot him. They were both concentrating on other things. Layne got his shots, moved from the window, crouched with his back to the trailer, scrolled through what he had viewing the screen on the back of his camera, decided he had enough at the same time deciding, once those shots were printed, he was going to destroy the memory card and the camera.

His eyes went to Ryker and he nodded, Ryker nodded back and they moved to the SUV.

When they were underway, Ryker said, “Drop me by my babe’s.”

“You got it.”

Ryker directed him to a neighborhood in the ‘burg. Lower middle class, neat but tiny houses that people took care of. Layne pulled into the drive that Ryker indicated and no sooner had he stopped when the outside light came on. There was a black flag by the door with an orange pumpkin on it and three carved jack o’ lanterns lining the front steps. Layne was mildly surprised that Ryker bagged a babe who lived in a tidy neighborhood and had a pumpkin flag flying at her door and jack o’ lanterns on her steps.

He was more surprised when the front door opened, a leggy woman with a mass of curly red hair stood in it, her thin, short robe not hiding much of her phenomenal figure but it also wasn’t putting it on show either. She was peering at the truck, looking awake but ready for bed and whatever might happen there. She’d waited up for her man.

Layne looked at Ryker and noted, “Not bad.”

At Layne’s words, Ryker turned to him and shared, “She makes pumpkin bread that should win awards and the same can be said for the way she gives head. Seriously, bro, every time she goes down on me, every single time, I swear my dick’s gonna explode. She’s that good.”

Layne shook his head. “I already got Stew goin’ at his piece burned in my brain, Ryker, now you’re just bein’ cruel.”

Ryker shot him his ugly smile, opened his door and folded out of the cab. Layne put the SUV in reverse, pulled out but caught sight of Ryker entering the house, his huge frame hiding his woman but he had an arm around her, his neck bent to look down at her, shuffling her back. Ryker kicked the door closed and Layne’s eyes went back to the road.

He drove home and noted no Calais on the curb or in the drive and, when the garage door went up, no Charger. Seth apparently decided to brave the homefront and Layne hoped he hadn’t made the wrong decision.

Layne entered the house and Blondie moseyed up to him, prepared to give a greeting but tuckered out. He gave her a quick rubdown then moved beyond her, up the stairs, Blondie following and they separated at the top, Blondie heading to Jasper’s opened door. He shrugged his jacket off and swung it around the back of his desk chair. Then he secured his guns and the camera in the locked cabinet and walked into his room.

He stopped at his side of the bed. Moonlight was shining through all three of the windows, the curtains opened, Rocky on her side of the bed curled tight into a ball. He reached under his pillows, got his pajamas and didn’t bother going to the walk-in to change, he did it right there. Then he walked to the windows and started to close the curtains. He was on window three when he heard Rocky.

“What are you doing?”

He turned to her and replied softly, “Closin’ us in, baby.”

He watched, the moonlight from the window he hadn’t shut off to outside illuminating her as she threw back the covers and got out of bed.

She went to one of the windows he’d done and threw open the curtains.

What the fuck?

“Roc –”

She turned to him and whispered, “It’s too dark.”

Okay, again… what the fuck?

She’d never been scared of the dark.

“Rocky, we need the curtains closed.”

She shook her head and moved to the window next to the one he was at. “No.”

He walked to her as she threw one side of the curtains open and asked what was on his mind. “Baby, what the fuck?”

“It’s too dark,” she repeated.

“We don’t need people seein’ in, Roc, and there are people out there who’ll be lookin’.”

“It’s too dark,” she said yet again.

She moved to pass him to get to the other side of the drapes and he caught her by hooking an arm around her belly. She stopped and looked up at him.

“Rocky –”

“I need them open, Layne.” She tried to pull from him but he tightened his arm, sliding it around her to bring her up against his front.

“We can’t sleep with them open, Roc, too much exposure.”

“I need them open,” she repeated.

“Sorry, sweetcheeks, that’s not gonna happen,” he told her, felt her body get tight, not with anger, with something else, something that started seeping into the room, something not good and not right.

“I need them open,” she whispered, her voice suddenly trembling.

Layne heard it and treaded cautiously when he reminded her, “Baby, you’ve slept with them closed the last three nights.”

“Yes,” she was still whispering, “but you were here.”

Layne’s body went solid at her words and whatever was coming from Rocky started filling the room, pressing into them and he sensed that whatever it was, she didn’t have it in her to beat it back. Whatever it was, he needed to beat it back for her.

“You scared of the dark?” he asked gently.

She didn’t answer. Instead she said, “I need the light.”

“You scared of the dark, Rocky?”

“I need the light,” she repeated, now her body was trembling.

“You weren’t scared of the dark twenty years ago, honey.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she whispered again. “Because you were there.”

Fucking hell.

His hands went to the sides of her head and he turned her, moving her backward toward the bed.

“What scares you?” he asked, she didn’t answer except to shake her head in his hands. “What scares you, baby?” No answer, her legs hit bed and he stopped, thinking he knew so he explained, “Tonight wasn’t dangerous, Rocky.” She tried to look away but he kept her head tipped toward him and his face got close to hers. “It wasn’t dangerous and I had backup.”

She lifted her hands and curled them around his wrists, whispering, “Layne.”

“I’m good at what I do,” he told her and she shook her head in his hands again so he gave her a gentle squeeze and moved even closer. “Swear, I’m good at what I do.”

She stared in his eyes through the dark and, suddenly, she lifted up on her toes half an inch and her mouth was on his.

He didn’t know what was happening with her and it more than concerned him but, even so, Layne didn’t hesitate. He accepted her invitation by slanting his head to the side, his hands moved from her head to her waist, curling around her back, trapping her in his arms and he kissed her.

After all those dreams, Layne was ready for what was about to happen and had been ready for a long fucking time and Rocky showed him she felt the same. She gave with her mouth and took with her hands. Greedy, hungry, she was all over him, pressing into him, communicating need.

He understood her need, her need was in his blood, blood that was now coursing through his body and making his cock hard.

He put his hands to her pits and lifted her up high, his mouth disengaging from hers, he growled, “Knees,” and she knew what he was saying. She kicked her calves back and he set her on her knees in the bed.

His hands went to the hem of his tee and he nearly growled again when, without delay, her arms went straight up to help him. He yanked off the tee, tossed it aside and one hand went to the middle of her back, pushing in and up, arching her back, he bent and used his other hand to lift her breast, he took it with his mouth and sucked deep.

Her fingers slid into his hair and she moaned, arching her back further, holding him fast. He pulled hard then swirled with his tongue, pulled hard again and then moved to the other side to do the same. When he was done, she was clenching his hair in her fists and she pulled him up, his mouth to hers and he took it, the kiss deeper, wilder, out-of-control as she pressed her bared tits tight to his chest and one of her hands went into his pajamas to curl into his ass, the other one went in the front to wrap around his hard cock and she pulled him to her.

Christ, she was primed already.

He tore his mouth from hers and she stroked his cock before gently tugging him toward her again and he shook his head. “Unh-unh, baby, I’m hungry.”

He listened to her breath catch and he knew she remembered. He’d say that to her when he wanted to go down on her, whenever he wanted to go down on her. He’d walk up behind her as she was doing the dishes, he’d whisper it in her ear when she was curled into him on the couch, when he’d wake her up in the middle of the night or when he woke up in the morning wanting the taste of her. It got to the point if he said it because he was hungry for food, her eyes would go half-mast, her mouth would get soft and he knew what she was thinking and would have to fight against going hard.

And she knew now and he knew she knew because she let him go and moved to her back. He moved in, sliding his fingers into her panties, he yanked them roughly down her legs and tossed them aside. She pulled herself up on the bed and was opening her legs before he got a knee to the mattress.

She wanted it, his Rocky, fuck, she was magnificent.

Hands to the soft skin of her inner thighs, he spread her wider and put his mouth to her. Her hips jerked and she gave him another mew. That coupled with the taste of her, having it back after so long meant he didn’t go slow, he didn’t take it easy, he just took. Her feet went into the bed and she lifted her hips to offer more, rubbing herself against him.

Christ, amazing.

He took and she gave and he listened as her excitement increased, became feverish, his cock so hard it was aching by the time her hands slid into his hair, her hips surged up, she cried out and he heard and felt her come.

He left her still moaning, going up and over her, hooking the back of her knee with one hand to pull it up as he pulled his cock out of pajamas, guided the tip to her slick pussy and drove in.

No, he’d been wrong, this was amazing.

“Layne,” she breathed, her pussy still convulsing with her orgasm.

“Take me, baby,” he grunted, driving in, hard, deep, fast.

“Yes,” she whispered, lifting her other knee, holding him tight at his sides with her thighs, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

He buried his face in her neck and kept driving. “Christ, you feel beautiful.”

“Baby,” she gasped and he heard it, fuck, he heard it, she was going to come again.

“That’s it,” he kept thrusting, her arms tightening around him, he pushed deeper.

“Oh my God.”

Shit, he was close, she sounded just as close and he hoped to God she was.

He moved his lips up her throat to take her mouth in a kiss as she took his driving cock and she panted through his kiss then sucked his tongue deep with her orgasm.

When she did, Layne let go and joined her, groaning into her mouth as he buried himself to the root and his world erased of everything but his cock and Raquel and the beauty only she could give him.

When he was done, he stayed rooted but moved his face into her neck and listened to her heavy breathing as he fought to control his own. He let minutes pass before, one by one, he moved her legs so her calves were swung in and she was wrapped all around him.

Her head turned so her lips were at his ear. “I think that’s about as real as it gets,” she whispered.

Oh yeah, that was about as real as it got, and about as good.

He lifted his head and grinned down at her in the shadows. “You’re right about that, sweetcheeks.”

He felt her body tighten around him even as she moved a hand to lay it against his jaw.

“Layne –” she started.

Oh no. Fuck no.

He pulled out of her, righted his pajamas then moving off her and up. He took her with him, planting her on her feet beside the bed. He found the tee and she stood there, motionless, as he pulled the neck of his tee over her head and then she finally shoved her arms through.

He put his lips to hers and whispered, “Get cleaned up, baby.”

She remained immobile, her head tilted back to look at him but she whispered so softly it was hard to hear, “You remembered.”

He remembered.

He remembered she didn’t like to sleep naked. She might fall asleep that way but she always got up and put something on. She also liked to clean up after they were done. Even if they’d go for a second or third round, she’d clean up after each time. Sometimes he’d do it for her.

Yes, he remembered. He remembered everything.

And she should know that.

His fingers curled around her neck and he put his forehead to hers before sharing, “I remember, Rocky. I remember everything. I remember every… fucking… thing.”

Her fingers curved into his at her neck and she breathed, “Layne –”

He cut her off by ordering, “Get cleaned up and come back to me.”

“Sweetheart –”

“Go, baby, and come back to me.”

She hesitated a second before nodding, he let her go and she moved away. He closed the curtains and got into bed on her side. He was in the middle waiting for her when she returned and slid in the bed then instantly moved into him.

“You want your panties?” he asked.

“Do you know where they are?” she asked back.

“No fuckin’ clue,” he answered and heard her soft giggle, liked it, so he slid one hand down her back, pulled up the tee then cupped the soft, generous cheek of her ass.

“No,” she said softly when his fingers curled into her. “I don’t think I want my panties.”

“Good,” he whispered and pulled her deeper into his body as her arm stole under his and around his waist.

He fell silent and so did Rocky until she called tentatively, “Layne.”

He knew by her tone where she was going.

“No, Roc,” he replied.

“Baby,” she whispered, “this was a mistake.”

His hand tightened on her ass, his arm tightened around her back and his voice was a rumble when he returned, “Made a lotta mistakes in my life, didn’t know about them until later. Sayin’ that, sweetcheeks, I know deep in my gut this was no mistake.”

“But –”

“It wasn’t, Rocky.”

“I think –”

His hand and arm gave her a squeeze and she stopped speaking.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he told her.

“But Layne –”

He interrupted her. “It’s dark.”

She paused before she asked, “What?”

“It’s dark, baby, you scared?”

Silence and then a soft, “No.”

She hadn’t even noticed he closed the curtains.

So he made his point by repeating, “This was no mistake.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He held her in the dark, it was late and he’d just fucked Rocky for the first time in eighteen years. He’d come, hard, after months of dreaming about her, each dream hot, but having her was far, far hotter.

He was sated, relaxed, tired and close to sleep when she whispered, “Layne?”

“Yeah, baby.”

He heard her hair move on the pillow before she snuggled closer and, still whispering, said, “I’m hungry.”

Layne suddenly wasn’t tired anymore. He rolled to his back, pulling her over him and he found her mouth with his.

“Feel free to take as much as you like,” he invited on a mutter against her lips, felt her lips smile then she slowly made her way down his body and she took as much as she liked.

Then Layne took as much as he liked.

Then Rocky got up, pulling the tee back on, she cleaned up, came back and pinned him to the bed.