HONEY FOR NOTHIN' Page 10

  And behind him, Keys, bigger, broader, one arm around Remi in a tender embrace, the other working in a motion that said clearly he was pumping Remi’s cock with his hand. His jeans loosened as he flexed his hips, thrusting rhythmically. He’d been taking Remi in the ass—and Remi had wanted it, had clearly been loving it as much as Keys had, from the sounds they were both making, and the pleasure stamped on Remi’s beautiful face.

  She’d been so stupid, thinking either of them wanted her. Why would they when they had that? The way Keys held Remi, the way Remi let him do what he was doing ... every line of their bodies said it had been more than just a quick fuck, the emotionless coupling she’d seen on those online porn sites.

  These two truly couldn’t resist each other. And they were so beautiful together, both of them lean and strong, with those braids that announced they were their own men, rocking to their own beat.

  While she was ... fat and pale and a hot mess, on the run from the only man who wanted her, a biker with a bad attitude and a mullet.

  Tears stung the back of her eyes. Two things—she had to get the hell away from here, and she had to pee. The bathroom was definitely in use, so that left the woods.

  She unlocked the door, peered outside. The morning was still and cloudy.

  There were two pickup trucks parked across the clearing by the cement foundation, and four young guys standing with their backs to Kit, while one of them gestured and spoke. Keys’ contractors.

  She jogged along the cement apron and around the corner out of their sight, wincing and cussing under her breath as she stepped on a pebble.

  She tiptoed behind a clump of brush just off the paved apron, did her business and then straightened her mussed, wrinkled clothing. Gah, she needed a hot shower, clean clothes and a huge cup of coffee. And some painkiller would not go amiss—her head hurt. Thank you, whiskey.

  She picked her way back along the apron, around the corner and bumped straight into a man coming the other way. Both their eyes widened, his with shock and then glee. He was a stranger, short, wiry and stinking of cigarettes and stale sweat.

  He grabbed her upper arms, and Kit let out a shriek of terror. Then she kneed him in the balls. Unlike Keys, he did not get his leg up in time to fend her off. Instead, his face turned an ugly shade of red, his eyes bugged out and he sagged, his hands sliding from her arms.

  “Hey, come back here, bitch!” called another voice behind him. “You’re s’posed to come with us.”

  Kit took one look at the other man, this one tall and skinny with long, scraggly hair, who had moved out from behind the racks of vehicle parts. Then she turned and ran, back the way she’d come.

  She barreled straight into Keys, who went back on one foot and held her, lifting the long barrel of the gun he held to sight past her. He was still barefoot, and wore only his jeans.

  His face was hard, his eyes cold.

  “Get behind me,” he ordered curtly without looking at her. Kit obeyed, her entire body shaking like jelly, her heart trying to beat its way from her chest.

  “T-two of them,” she stuttered. “They s-said I had to come with them.”

  “Got it. Now quiet.”

  He glided forward along the wall, and peered around the corner. Then he relaxed visibly and moved out, the gun propped on his hip.

  “Havin’ a little trouble there, fellas?” he drawled.

  Kit peered over his shoulder. The small man who had grabbed her was on his knees on the ground, his partner standing over him with a disgusted look on his face.

  Remi stood behind them, a pistol in his hand, a towel around his hips which he held with the other hand. His eyes held fury. When he saw Kit, he relaxed visibly.

  “Dumb shit,” the tall man mumbled to no one in particular. “Knew we shouldn’t ‘a come up here.”

  He eyed Keys. “You gonna call the cops?”

  “Nope,” Keys said. “Gonna have you take a message to whoever sent you up here, an’ I think we both know who that was.”

  The guy shook his head. “Don’t know no names. Got a phone call, said this woman was hidin’ out ‘cause she owed money, an’ there’s money in it for us if we brought her back.”

  “And you believed that?”

  Scraggly hair shrugged.

  Keys snorted. “Congrats, man. You’re the sacrifice play. We catch you, no skin off his face. You succeed, he doesn’t have to show his hand.”

  He handed the shotgun to Kit, the barrel pointed skyward. “Hold this, Red. Not aimed at me or Remi.” He prowled forward, his pace smooth and lethal. The tall man’s eyes widened, and he backed up.

  The sound of Remi cocking the pistol in his hand stopped the guy in his tracks. He closed his eyes in defeat. “Shit.”

  Keys hit him solidly in the face. Kit winced as blood sprayed and the man’s face went slack. He fell back against the rack of parts, and a rounded fender teetered and then fell, hitting him over the head with a clang. He went down with a whimper.

  Without pausing, Keys grabbed the rusty fender and swung it, hitting the kneeling man on the side of the head. He fell over sideways, blood splattering the concrete.

  Kit winced, letting out a squeak. What if he’d killed the guy?

  Footsteps thudded, and the builders dashed around the corner, their faces full of alarm.

  “Heard a woman scream,” the one in the lead said breathlessly, his fists doubled. He surveyed the scene and his brows went up. “Shee-it. Looks like you got it covered.”

  The other young guys fanned out beside him, eying first the downed men and then Keys and Remi and Kit with fascination.

  “Bad ass,” one of them breathed. They all wore heavy work boots, tool belts and a couple of them had baseball caps on backward. Kit was nearly on hot guy overload.

  “You want us to call the cops?” the lead builder asked.

  “Nope,” Keys answered. “These pieces of shit are gonna take a ride down the mountain in the back of my parts truck. They can walk the rest the way back where they came from.”

  The builder, a brawny blond, nodded, smiling crookedly. “That’s what I figured. Well, reckon we’ll get to work then.”

  He and his crew traipsed off, one of them grinning at Kit. She gave him a finger wave, and Remi scowled.

  Keys turned to her, ignoring the men whimpering on the ground. “Seriously, Red? This time you are gettin’ that spanking.”

  She glowered at him. “Seriously back, Keys. I had to pee, and the bathroom was a little crowded.”

  “Well, next time grab an empty coffee can or something.” He turned to Remi. “You can get dressed, then I could use some help with the trash, here.”

  Kit swallowed the lump of hurt in her throat. That, it seemed, was all he had to say about him and Remi. Well, fine. She could find her own way back in. She turned and hurried back along the side of the building, blinking away the tears that this time managed to erupt.

  Remi made it to the door before her. He held it open, and followed her in. “Kit,” he said, his voice low.

  “Just leave me alone,” she told him. “I need a shower.” And then she needed to get the hell out of this place. She could hide somewhere else—anywhere else.

  Remi was dressed by the time she came back down the stairs. She felt his gaze as she hurried past him into the bathroom, a bundle of clean clothes in her hands, but she ignored him, focusing instead on the steaming mug of coffee he held out to her. She paused long enough to take it, mumbled her thanks, then went into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

  She gulped half the cup before she realized it was burning her tongue. Then she dove into the shower, where her tears mingled with the hot water and soap.

  * * *

  Remi yanked on his jeans, tee, socks and boots in a funk. The look he’d seen on Kit’s face sat like a lead weight on his chest. She was disgusted with him.

  Damn Keys for tempting him into a quick liaison in the shower, and damn him for giving in. He should’ve held out, he should
’ve known Kit would consider him a perv if she knew he was bi, he should’ve ...

  Right, like that he was gonna hold out. Keys was his addiction, his crack—and yeah, he got the joke.

  He’d known since he was old enough to have urges, that he was attracted to both sexes. But with the life he’d had, and the series of foster homes—if you could even call some of them homes—in which he’d grown up, he’d also known better than to reveal anything except a normal sexual interest in girls, then women. In the foster system, that kind of difference might as well be a sign stamped on a kid’s forehead that said ‘Kick my ass’.

  It wasn’t until he was on his own, living in Spokane where there was a small but active gay community, that he’d finally tried it out with a guy. The experience had been less than stellar. Neither of them had known what they were doing, and there’d been no emotional connection worth trying again.

  Then he’d met Keys, and fallen so hard and fast it would have broken him, had Keys been less than the strong, steadfast man he was. Laid back where Remi was tense, seeing the humor in every situation where Remi was apt to see the worst, and the most generous lover Remi had yet to have. And most of all, seemingly unafraid of what anyone else on God’s earth thought of his life choices.

  The last month had been a revelation.

  But now there was Kit, and damn him for a fool, but Remi wanted to kick his own ass for helping to put tears in her big, green eyes, and disgust in her trembling voice. She couldn’t even look at him.

  However, he had more urgent shit to deal with right now. He’d have plenty of time later to be depressed as fuck.

  He laced up his boots, tied his messy hair back with a faded bandanna, and ran downstairs to help Keys. Getting rid of the two assholes who wanted to grab Kit, that he could do for her. And if they acquired a few new bruises on the way, that was fine with him.

  Outside, the builders were hammering away over at the house site, having evidently decided to ignore whatever happened at the shop.

  The ‘63 Chevy truck that Keys used to haul parts, so faded and scratched it resembled a ‘rat rod’, sat running behind the shop. Keys leaned on the tailgate, watching the two men on the ground at his feet.

  The smaller one was out, but the taller one had his eyes open. He mumbled something through his bloody, swollen lips and Keys answered, his voice hard and cold. “Don’t care, asshole. Want you off my property, and want you to carry a message for me. This time, I’m bein’ nice--lettin’ you leave in one piece. You come back, next time I’ll dig a hole and bury the pieces, along with anyone else who tries this shit. You get me?”

  “I getcha,” the guy mumbled.

  Keys jerked his chin to Remi, and they bent and each grabbed an arm of the little guy. “Augh, think he pissed himself,” Remi muttered, trying not to inhale as they tossed the man’s limp form into the bed of the truck.

  The other guy stumbled to his feet, so Remi let him climb into the bed by himself, although he gave the guy his coldest stare as he slammed the tail gate. The dude huddled against the side of the bed, his gaze on Remi like he was afraid of being scalped. Like Remi would wanna touch his greasy hair.

  “I’d say take ‘em to Bouncer’s doorstep,” Keys told him, “but that would mean crossin’ state lines, and we’re not messing with kidnapping, even if they’re that stupid. So just dump ‘em wherever you want, man. Maybe in the lake--they could use a bath.”

  “My car’s down by t’highway,” Scraggy hair muttered. “Take us there ‘n’ we’ll dis’pear. Swear.”

  Remi climbed into the cab and slammed the door. “I might take you there,” he called out the open back window. “But you better buckle up—gonna be a bumpy ride.”

  Except of course there were no seatbelts back there, just hard slippery metal truck bed.

  Keys gave him a nod, and Remi put his foot on the gas and drove along beside the shop and across the graveled sweep. He waited to gun it until they were on the road down through the trees, and then he made sure to hit every rut and bump. There were many.

  By the time he hit the brakes on the old truck by the turnout where the two had left their car, the only sound from the back was groaning. Luckily the bigger one made it out before he puked, ‘cause Remi would’ve made him clean it up with his own shirt.

  He drove away as the guy was shoving his still unconscious pal into the old hatchback.

  It was Monday, and thus the BeeHive was not open, but Remi used his key to let himself in to the café. Kit and Keys needed to eat. He’d make them the best damned breakfast he knew how. Maybe it would even be enough to get the two of them to talk with each other, and for Kit to stay.

  It was illogical, he knew, but with the two of them, he felt the closest he ever had to having a family. And he wanted to keep that for however long he could. Wanted to herd them together, feed them and watch over them like a wolf with his pack mates.

  He grabbed some frozen cinnamon rolls from the big freezer—made by a local bakery so they were stellar. He scrambled some eggs, dumped them in a Styrofoam container with some bacon crumbles and shredded cheese, grabbed a can of pineapple chunks, and packed his booty in a bag, leaving a note in the till for Lindi itemizing everything he’d taken so she could write him up a bill.

  He double-checked that the grill was off, locked the doors behind him, and headed up the mountain, his gut filled with longing and fierce determination.

  Chapter Nine

  When Kit came out of the bathroom, clean and dressed in a short denim skirt, a yellow tee layered over a green tank, her hair in a wet tangle down her back, the shop was empty. Since she had spent the time as she dressed having a conversation in her head where she coolly told Keys and Remi that there was no need to explain or apologize, that she was cool with their hookup, but that she was also out of there ... she was now angry all over again that neither of them had even cared enough to waylay her and talk her out of going.

  She stomped upstairs, shoved her things back in her duffel, and carrying it back downstairs.

  There she found both of them sitting at the small table, cups of coffee and what looked like a full café breakfast on the table. They both watched her come down the stairs.

  Keys waved his hand at the food. “Come and eat, babe. Remi cooked for us.”

  Kit’s mouth was watering, but she swallowed, and shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m taking off.”

  Remi shot to his feet and came around the table. “No, you can’t,” he blurted, then swallowed. But he didn’t look away from her.

  Keys rose more slowly. “Why, Red?” he asked, his voice strangely gentle.

  Her gaze darted between the two men, and uncertainty caused her feet to falter to a stop. Keys’ gaze was gentle and warm, but Remi looked awful, drawn under his natural tan.

  She searched his face as he came to her, but he said nothing more, merely took her duffel from her and set it aside.

  “Kit?” Keys said. “You wanna answer me, babe?”

  “Well ... because,” she said, uncertain why he was even asking. “You don’t want me here—you’ve made that real clear. And you two are ... together. So I see why I’m in the way here.”

  “You’re in the way?” Remi repeated, shock parting his lips. He stared at her. “No. No, Kit.”

  “Uh, yeah,” she said. “Seems obvious to me. So, I’ll go stay with, uh, Sara.”

  “You’ll go?” Remi repeated. “No. Not you. I’ll go.” But he nearly choked on the words.

  She stared at him in incomprehension. Why would he leave?

  Keys stepped in front of her, and when she took a step back, Remi was there, hemming her in, his lean body a barrier or a support, she wasn’t sure which.

  “Look at me, babe.” Keys eyes were warm and blue. “You’re not in the way, Red. And what should be clear is that I don’t like it when you put yourself in danger, that’s all.”

  “He’s right,” Remi murmured in her ear. “Scared us bad, Kit.”

  “Sorry.�
� But she still glared at Keys, because she wouldn’t forget the chill he’d enveloped her in outside.

  He gave her a chiding look. “Give it up, Red. You scared the ever livin’ hell outta me, so yeah, I was pissed. I’m over it, you need to get over it too. And Remi’s staying too. So where that that puts you is not in the way, but in the middle.”

  “Uh ... the middle of what?” she managed.

  But instead of answering, the biker moved in, cupped her face in his hand and bent to kiss her. It was a sweet, slow, coffee-flavored kiss and Kit could no more help kissing him back than she could stand alone, but it didn’t matter, because both men were there to support her, Remi behind and Keys before her.

  And when Keys stopped kissing her, Remi leaned in to kiss her cheek, and press his forehead against her hair. “Don’t go, Kit,” he pleaded, his voice choked. “Please.”

  Kit gaped at Keys and then turned to peer into Remi’s face. His dark eyes were full of turmoil, his mouth tight. His hands were biting into her waist.

  “You want me to stay?” she whispered wonderingly.

  “Yeah. If you, uh, if you don’t think it’s too fucked up that we—that Keys and me ...”

  His voice trailed off, and Kit’s heart swelled with pain for him. “No,” she blurted. “No, Remi. I don’t think you’re fucked up.”

  His eyes widened, and he searched her gaze. “You sure, axa’ashe?”

  “Remi,” she whispered, and shook her head.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, and leaned his head against hers again. His heart pounded against her back. “Then why’d you wanna leave?”

  With two sets of warm, strong hands holding her, petting her, two vital, handsome men waiting for her to speak, their gazes rapt on her face, Kit had never been more confused in her life. “I--you ... I--just ...” Why on earth would they want her, when they had each other?

  “Think she’s tongue-tied,” Keys teased gently.

  This was true. Her mouth was totally not connected to her brain right now.