Skin Game

CHAPTER 6

Kyra had miscalculated.

There probably wasn’t a score here. The guys at the Blue Rock weren’t typical yokels, and they almost seemed to expect her to try something. They’d been watching her with avid suspicion ever since she sauntered in the door. Something wasn’t right. There was something fishy in this little town, echoed by the paranoia of that motel owner.

She just couldn’t figure out how they’d made her. At this point, she hadn’t done anything but order; she’d only been in here for two minutes. Maybe they simply had something else to hide, and she was paranoid, thinking their secret had to do with her. A place like this might front any number of unsa vory enterprises. Kyra took a pull of her beer and locked eyes with the bartender, a big bald guy who watched her like a hawk.

Instinct told her to finish her beer, eat a few stale pretzels for the look of the thing, and then hit the road. There would be another town, another round of suckers. Instead, she tried a smile.

“Gonna be a hot one,” she said, conversational.

A ceiling fan stirred sluggishly overhead, not doing much more than moving the warm air around. Two guys played pool behind her, but she took care not to watch them overtly. Too much interest would seem out of place in a casual barfly.

“Yep,” he agreed with a nod. “What brings you to Mount Silver?”

The question surprised her, the modern equivalent of “what’re you doing in these parts, stranger.” She wondered, smothering a smile, whether it would be followed up with “we don’t like your kind around here.” The bartender propped his elbow on the counter, waiting for her reply. Generally, a lean like that meant the guy wanted a closer connection. In this case, it meant he wanted her near enough he could grab her.

So she shrugged. “Just passing through.”

Before the guy could reply, someone strolled out of the bathrooms in the back. Her nerves were on edge, so she wanted to categorize everyone in the place. Through smoky sunlight, she recognized him immediately as the guy she’d left exhausted in her bed at a motel somewhere outside Lake Charles. What the hell was he doing here? Her bad feeling exploded into a flash fire.

But he drew up short at seeing her. “Are you following me? Look, lady, I appreciate the ride and everything, but whatever it is you think I did, it wasn’t me. I didn’t touch your stuff.” Rey tried a placating smile. “If you’re mad I wasn’t there when you got back, then . . . uh . . . I promise our night was special, the best I ever had, but I’m not really the settling-down type.” His dark, rough face gained an expression of manifest horror. “You’re not pregnant, are you? It’s not mine.” He glanced at the other guys in the bar as if for moral support. “I wore a jimmy hat, every time. I swear.”

Furious color burned in her cheeks. Now everyone in the bar thought she was a slut. If it hadn’t been so embarrassing and inconvenient, it would have been funny. Much funnier if it happened to someone else. Coincidence? It seemed unlikely, but he seemed as shocked to see her as she was him. Sometimes life threw unexpected curves, and you just had to catch them.

“I’m not pregnant,” she muttered. “I just seemed destined to run across you.”

Rey grinned. “Some people are just born lucky, I guess. So . . . just to be clear, you weren’t looking for me?”

The room felt hot and thick. Somebody snickered. “Of course not.”

She couldn’t tell if the heat came from remembering how he’d woken her twice before morning, imprinting himself on every inch of her body, or embarrassment from his fear she might be hunting him down for seconds. Her bedroom show came to town one night only, no encores. So she’d never slept with the same man twice.

“You two know each other?” the bartender asked into the silence.

That roused an uneasy reaction from the guys playing pool. One of them whispered, “They gotta be cops, trying to play us.”

“Yep,” the taller one agreed. “It’s the only reason we’d have two strangers who ‘happen’ to be acquainted in on the same day.”

The big guy stepped forward, pool cue in hand, but it looked more like a bo staff, the way he held it, than an instrument of recreational fun. Kyra took a step back and came up against the bar. Rey took a position at her side that was oddly reassuring.

“If you think we’re cops,” she offered, “then it would be stupid to try anything. Just let us walk out of here and nobody gets hurt.”

She’d been right about them having something to hide. At this point, she had no idea what it could be. When she’d inquired about bars in the area at checkout, the girl at the motel had said her dad didn’t let her hang out here, but Kyra had thought that was because the man didn’t want his underage kid drinking. Maybe there was something worse going on.

The big guy grinned. “I got a better idea. We could just end you quietly, and bury the bodies out back. How many nosy cops we got out there anyway, Ed? Four? Five?”

Before answering, the bartender, presumably named Ed, did some math, counting on his fingers. “Five right now. Seven if we do these two.”

Rey shifted, leaning most of his weight against the counter, as if they weren’t outnumbered and receiving death threats. “Go on. Take your best shot.”

If she hadn’t stolen and used his capacity for mayhem, she’d think he was being cocky. She knew better. Kyra took care not to touch him. Crippling her only ally wouldn’t do them any good. It would serve her best if she borrowed from one of these guys; she just had to hope her target didn’t hide a secret gift for macramé.

Enraged, the ox lunged with the pool stick, but Rey stepped aside neatly and came into a fighting stance with an ease that said he was on a whole different level. He beckoned, curling his fingers up twice, and three guys ran at him.

Kyra didn’t take time to watch their tussle, as she had the smaller guy to worry about. He wouldn’t think he needed to use his best stuff on her. That assumption would cost him. She slapped him on the forearm as he came at her. Her sissy move stopped him dead in his tracks as laughter overwhelmed him.

“Is that the best you can do?” he demanded. “My ex-wife hit harder than you.”

She had no idea. Maybe he was really good at watercolors or refinishing old furniture, and just took a casual interest in fighting. But no . . . his technique flowed over her within a few seconds. Tae Kwon Do, huh? Okay, she could work with that.

“No,” she said, smiling. And spun into a jump kick that connected with his head. “This is.”

She fought him easily, using his own style against him, while he fumbled as if he’d taken no classes at all. There was almost nothing better than taking a belligerent man’s best ability and turning it against him, except maybe relieving some mean, greedy bastard of his money. The best moment of her life had come when she won at 21, playing with Serrano’s money.

Her opponent reacted with disbelief, rocking with every hit. His kneecap popped out of socket and he went down hard. Kyra kicked him in the head for good measure. The sound of the bartender cocking a shotgun put her on the floor. No matter whose skill she stole, she wasn’t bulletproof.

That didn’t seem to stop Rey. She heard him dive over the bar as the gun went off, and then there was the sound of breaking bottles. Something gave a wet pop and she thought it was probably a body part. Then there was a thump from the body falling.

She stood up, carefully. There were four guys on the floor, including the one she’d dropped, plus the bartender. Rey had taken on three men at once, and only suffered a scratch on his cheek from the flying glass. He vaulted lightly over the counter.

“So,” he said, “come here often?”

Kyra couldn’t help it; she laughed. “No. You ass. Did you kill any of them?”

“I don’t think so. That guy won’t be walking around for a while, though.” He tilted his head toward the bartender.

She sighed. “I just wanted a drink.” And a score, she added silently. “What the hell was this about anyway?”

“I dunno. But I’m thinking I’d like to find out.”

His target followed him toward the back room, where he found nothing but stored beer and booze. “It has to be downstairs then.”

“What does?” She watched while he broke the lock.

“Whatever they were trying to hide from the cops.”

He flicked the light on before they went down the stairs. If there had been anybody else on the premises, they surely would’ve come up if they heard the brawl, so he wasn’t expecting trouble. They came on an old unfinished basement with concrete block walls and a stained floor. The strong sulfur and ammonia smell gave away the secret before he spotted the paraphernalia, containers with tubes and funnels, coolers, boxes of supplies.

“Meth lab,” Kyra said from behind him.

Reyes wasn’t surprised she could ID one on sight. That was probably the least of the trouble she’d been involved with during her colorful career. He didn’t like ending women, but he’d done a little research before accepting Serrano’s job offer, and she had quite a record.

He pulled his drifter persona close and tight before turning to face her. “Don’t touch anything.”

“I know. It’s volatile.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’d like to burn this place down. Scumbags like that make their money dealing to high school kids. I have no problem with adults who choose to rot their brains like this; it’s sort of like natural selection—”

“They win the Darwin Awards,” he put in, smiling.

She looked at him in surprise. “Yeah. Exactly like that. But when kids get sucked in, not knowing what they’re in for, it totally pisses me off.”

“So do you want to?” He met her gaze levelly.

“Want to what?”

“Burn the place down.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you crazy? That’ll have the real cops and firemen out here before we get far enough away. I don’t want to attract attention.”

She’d said “we,” he noticed. His smile widened into something sharp and feral. It demonstrated progress for her to incorporate him into her plan, and he intended to capitalize on this opportunity.

“Okay,” he said easily. “I’m gonna disconnect some stuff. You go on up.”

Too trusting, he decided, as she took the suggestion at face value. He could be stealing meth for all she knew. Instead he rerouted some things and lit a cigarette, leaving it burning in a fashion that would wind up working like a fuse. This place was going up, one way or another. He didn’t like drug dealers any better than Kyra did, so he’d work this like a freebie. Nobody was paying him for this job, but sometimes it was just good karma to offer your services gratis to the universe.

Before they left, he made sure the men were still unconscious. If one of them woke before the blast, well, he was welcome to try to find Reyes for some payback. That kind of thing made life interesting.

In the gravel parking lot, he had the odd feeling they’d played this scene once before, but he wouldn’t threaten her tires a second time. His rental car was still at the motel; he’d hitched a ride over, as that was more in keeping with his role.

“Fate brought us together again for some reason,” he said, lying through his teeth. “You walk on the wild side, you’re gonna hustle the wrong person someday, and then what? You need some muscle at your back, and I need wheels. Let’s see where it takes us. We don’t have to hook up again.”

His body protested immediately. Since he’d first seen her ponied up to the bar, he’d had an insane urge to shove her down and take her, any way she’d let him. The scratches she’d left on his shoulders stung a little—in the best possible way.

Damn, they didn’t have time to stand here talking about this. But she didn’t know that. He had to reel her in slowly, or she’d fight the capture.

“Get in,” she said finally. “We shouldn’t hang around here. And maybe you’re right. I never thought about taking on a partner before, but you might fit the bill.”

Her eyes slid over his shoulder, as if seeing someone who wasn’t there—a former cohort? Hell, maybe she’d killed him. Reyes rather liked the idea of living dangerously. He also liked that she didn’t bother to deny what he’d noticed her doing at the last bar.

“You know anything about the biz?” She went around the vehicle.

“Not really.” He slid into the Marquis on the passenger side. “But I learn fast. I can watch your back while you work and just jump in if something goes wrong.”

She started the car, backed it out faster than anyone he’d ever seen, and slammed the wheel so that they spun onto the road. He loved the way she drove, all attitude and swagger, underscored with complete control. Reyes would bet she knew this car better than most women knew their own anatomy. It made sense; she practically lived in it.

She thought for a while. Neither of them turned on the radio. They had come about a mile when a big orange glow and a distant boom rose up behind them. Kyra noticed it in the rearview and said, “What the hell did you do? I thought I said not to burn the place down!”

Reyes grinned. “I didn’t. I blew it up.”

Would she get all girly on him and cry? Oh, hell. Please, no. To his delight, she burst out laughing. “Ah, shit. So much for low profile, but they had it coming.”

Something tightened in his gut. After a moment, he identified the feeling as pure lust. Most females couldn’t stomach the things he did; most flinched away from his eyes, seeming to sense the kind of life he’d led. She was brash and brave and full of wickedness.

Damn, he wanted her.

He made himself speak casually. “There was enough chemical in that place that they won’t find any sign of us, even if you’re in the system.”

“Are you?” she asked without looking away from the road.

She had to know the answer to that, if she had any skill at observation. But she didn’t seem to judge him for being an ex-con. Most people would.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve had military training,” she told him. “Probably not Special Forces. But I don’t think you enjoy taking orders. Is that why you opted out?”

“More or less.” It astonished him how much she’d picked up.

“And I think you must’ve gone East to study martial arts, the way you fight.”

“The East isn’t the only place you can learn.”

She picked up on the fact that he didn’t deny studying abroad. “Then where?”

“The Philippines,” he answered honestly. He didn’t let himself think about why he was answering her questions as Reyes. Maybe something told him she’d sense a lie. Professional liars often had a built-in bullshit detector, so whatever he said to her, he had to mean it. “Brazil. Indonesia.”

That was the key, he realized. She’d catch on to any elaborate ruse. To get to her, he had to be himself. In some ways, this would be the hardest job ever. He’d been pretending to be other people for so long, he didn’t even know who lived inside his own skin anymore.

“I thought I recognized some of your moves. Capoeira, combined with tarung derajat? Maybe some Jendo? You’ve blended the styles in a way I’ve never seen. But . . . it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful when you move.”

She didn’t seem to realize she’d just called him beautiful. In his experience, women didn’t think so. He scared the hell out of most of them. Reyes didn’t know how to respond to that, so he addressed the first part of what she’d said. “Yes, you caught all three. How’d you know? They’re not common.”

“I’m a fan.” Her dimples flashed as she smiled, cutting him an appreciative look. “UFC, mostly. I watch martial arts on ESPN whenever I get a chance.”

Mmm. He put himself in the picture beside her, a beer in one hand and her in the other. It was deliciously seductive. She’d clearly studied some herself, so maybe she’d even make a decent sparring partner. He could picture them on the mat, breathing hard as he took her down, fighting their way into the hardest, hottest sex ever. Her skin would shine with heat and exertion, sweaty-slick beneath him. She had a strong body, deceptively leggy. He wanted them wrapped around him.

Ah, damn. His cock went hard as a spike. He should not be thinking along those lines. Reyes shifted to cover the fact that he wanted to wrench the wheel, shove her into the backseat, and take her. By some miracle, he kept his breathing steady, though his hands curled into fists.

“I’m the brains,” she told him. “I’ve been doing this longer than you can possibly imagine, so I pick the targets. I plan the score. You just do as you’re told and maybe we can work something out. I’ll give you twenty percent to start.”

What just happened? She’d decided to hire him while he was thinking about sex? There was something to be said for keeping his mouth shut.

“Twenty-five percent,” he countered, knowing she’d expect it, which was why she’d lowballed him. “And we’ll renegotiate once I learn the ropes. This sounds like it’ll be dangerous.”

“Deal,” she said promptly, making him think he could’ve gone to thirty.

And I’m in.

It was a ballsy question, but he had to ask. “What about sex?”

“What about it?”

“Are we going to have any?”

She looked thoughtful, almost abashed. “I don’t know. I’ve never done it twice with the same person.” At his elevated brows, she amended, “Well—on a different night. So if we do, it’ll be a major event, and I’m thinking you’ll have to work for it.”

And a lance of pure lust ran him through.