Red Handed by Jessa Wilder

The hot summer sun beat down on me as I lounged by the pool, taking advantage of both the weather and the privacy. The pool deck was a little slice of paradise smack dab in the middle of a hellscape. I took a sip of my drink and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the side of the pool.

“Good morning Little Thief. Missed you at breakfast.”

I cracked one eye open. “Where did you come from?”

Beck ran his tongue over his lip ring. “Your wildest dreams.”

I snorted. To be fair, he looked good. I was practically drooling and by the way he moved under my gaze, he’d noticed. He wore board shorts and a black t-shirt, his messy blonde hair hidden underneath a baseball cap with the Red Bull logo splashed across the front.

“Breakfast isn’t really my thing,” I lied, praying he wouldn’t call me on my shit.

“We’re going to have to change that, then.” He sent me a playful grin. “You seemed to like my pancakes the other day.” Hell, this guy made anything sound appealing. He could sell snow shovels in Florida.

I cleared my throat, shaking my head as if to clear it. “Why are you here blocking my light? I’m assuming I’m in for another day of doing nothing, right?”

He shifted on his feet, which I took to mean “Yes.” I sighed loudly. Nico was really testing my fucking patience, and my father was a close second. I hadn’t been able to reach my dad once since the shooting. He was clearly dodging my calls. Sophie had no luck either when I’d made her try. You would think we were literally prisoners.

“I’m going to the track. Want to come?”

I racked my brain trying to figure out what he meant. “The track?”

“I have to swing by the stadium to pick up some paperwork from my manager.”

Right. The mysterious motocross side gig. I pretended to think about it, but couldn’t hold back my smile. Literally anything to get out of the hotel. As long as I brought my guns, we’d be fine. “Sure, but it better be fun.”

A cocky grin formed across his chiseled face. “Oh, you’ll enjoy it.”

* * *

If I’d realized we were going to be driving forty-five minutes to the local NFL stadium…well, I still would’ve gone. If only to get out of the hotel. Beck grumbled as we got into another bullet proof silver Range Rover. “Next time, we’ll take my car. I hate these things.”

“Why can’t we take your car now?”

“Because if Nico finds out I took you out of the house in anything other than one of the tanks, he’ll shoot me. Literally.”

I laughed, then wondered if he wasn’t kidding. Nico, Rush, and Beck seemed pretty close. Then again, I had seen my dad shoot one of my uncles in the leg before, so who knew.

We pulled into the back entrance of the football stadium, and my eyes went wide. Holy shit, it was huge. The entire front was glass from roof to floor. Gigantic billboards lined the sides. The one front and center was a picture of Beck’s smiling face.

“Show off.”

“Had to get your attention somehow.”

He had it. This place was amazing. Beck drove around the side of the stadium to a gated entrance and stopped in front of a security booth. The window opened and Beck held up a scannable ID pass.

The elderly guard met us with an enormous smile. “Hey, Mr. Bellamy. Thanks so much for the swag. I meant a lot to my grandson. He showed everyone he could find his signed jersey.”

“Anytime. Did you get the tickets I left for him for the upcoming race?”

“Sure did.” The guy smiled wider, awe written across his face.

“Make sure he comes to see me after the race. I’ve already put him on the guest list.”

“Thank you so much. That will mean the world to him.”

Beck just smiled at him in return. Like he’d do this for anyone. “Anytime.”

“Good luck, Mr. Bellamy. Make sure to show off a little for your girl there.” He winked.

I blanched, but didn’t have time to correct him as Beck said goodbye and pulled through the gates. We parked in a spot that had a sign “Red Bull—Beck Bellamy” written across it.

“So,” I said. “When Rush said you ‘thought’ you were a professional…” I let my voice trail off.

“He was fucking with me.” He grinned sheepishly. It was adorable.

“Okay, Hot Shot, let’s see it.”

He smiled. “Alright, guns stay in the car though.”

My eyes widened in horror. “Excuse me?”

“There are cameras everywhere, and metal detectors. And this is a major public stadium. They check for weapons all the time.”

“There’s no one here right now, though,” I complained.

“Still. Trust me. We don’t want to get caught on the field with a bunch of unregistered weapons. That would bring FBI heat, not just local cops. We can’t have that hassle. I’m leaving mine too, promise.” He made an X over his heart like a kid on the playground.

I rolled my eyes and unstrapped my gun holster from around my leg. “Fine.”

We got out of the car and he entwined our fingers. My heart beat violently against my ribs, and I willed it to stop. This wasn’t a big deal, it was just that this stadium was huge, and he didn’t want me to get lost, that was all.

He led me down a flight of concrete stairs, through several doors that required badge access, and past a set of locker rooms.

“What’s this?” I asked.

He turned that boyish grin on me—near impossible to resist. “The NFL plays here, but in the off season they truck in a bunch of dirt and build the courses for motocross events.”

We pushed through another door and I blinked at the sudden sunlight after having been underground. There were stalls, almost like for horses, but filled with bikes, set up all along the edge of what used to be a football field. The field was covered in huge mounds of dirt, shaped into ramps and jumps, separated by colorful barriers displaying the names of the various sponsors.

“This one is mine,” Beck said as we stopped at a larger stall. The huge bike stood well over my hips. It was predominantly orange, but was covered in red, white and blue Red Bull stickers. The number thirteen was splashed across the front.

“Lucky number thirteen,” I said. “It looks heavy as fuck. How do you lift it?”

He threw me a lopsided grin. “Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed my muscles. It might break my heart.”

I choked on a laugh. “Don’t worry, Big Guy. You’re hard not to notice.”

He suddenly swung me up into a bear hug. “That’s what I was hoping to hear, Little Thief.”

“Fishing for compliments?”

“From you? Always.”

My heartbeat doubled again. I needed to calm down. It was perfectly normal to be affected by such a stupidly hot guy. What wasn’t normal was to keep forgetting the situation. My eyes fixed on the Gentlemen tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Beck wasn’t a normal guy.

It was slightly easier to ignore his ties to Nico and the Gentlemen because, unlike Rush, I wasn’t totally sure what his job was. Clearly, he was part of the inner circle, but why? Even this motocross thing added an extra level of confusion. Most hardened criminals didn’t also have sponsorships with Red Bull and their faces on billboards.

What. The. Fuck.

If any of my indecision showed on my face, Beck didn’t notice or comment. “Want to get on it?”

“What?” I tipped my head in confusion.

He gestured to the bike, and I bit my lip. Yeah, I wanted to get on it.

“Okay, I’ve got you.” He laughed and lifted me easily by the hips until I could get one leg over the seat.

“Wow.” It felt even bigger now that I was on it.

“Ready to start it?” he asked, smiling like a fool.

“Yeah.”

He hadn’t taken his hands off my waist, and warmth and giddiness crept up my skin again. Dammit, I was giving myself emotional whiplash.

“Okay, put your foot here and press down on the pedal.” He guided me exactly where I needed to be and did something on the handle. The bike roared to life. The sound filled my ears, drowning out my squeak of surprised laughter.

“You look hot on my bike,” he growled in my ear, making me shiver. “I’ll have to take you for a ride sometime.”

My body buzzed as an electric current snapped between us. I met his dark, hooded gaze and watched his tongue run over his lip ring, tempting the fuck out of me. Heat pooled low between my thighs, and his devious smirk told me he knew exactly what he was doing. He stepped in closer and turned off the bike. I breathed in his sandalwood scent and felt lightheaded at his proximity. I gasped when he wrapped his hands around my waist, lifting me up so he could reposition me to sit sideways on the bike.

His eyes searched mine and must have found the answer he wanted, because he lowered his mouth, barely grazing my lips. They were soft, and the cold metal of his lip ring slid over my sensitive skin. He didn’t move to deepen the kiss, instead looked at me with a dare in his eyes. Fuck, he was going to wait for me to make a move. Effectively erasing my ability to pretend I didn’t want this just as much as he did.

His fingers threaded through my hair, and I lost the little control I had. My tongue slipped out, and I ran it over his piercing, drawing a groan from deep in his throat. His restraint broke just like it did the first time we kissed, but this time was different. I didn’t want it to stop. He stepped between my legs and I nipped, sucked and licked his mouth, both of us fighting for control of the kiss. His other hand gripped my hip, and he ground me down on his hard length. I became a desperate, needy thing as I rocked into him.

“Beck!”

I jumped, and Beck turned at the sound of his name, still keeping one hand on my waist to keep me from falling off the bike. Not that I would have—If I could scale a fucking building, I could stay on a motorcycle—but I sort of appreciated his concern.

“Sadie.” Beck put up his hand in half a polite wave.

Even from twenty yards away, I could see the woman approaching us across the dusty stadium was gorgeous. She wore a black tank top over a pair of those baggy, plastic-looking riding pants I’d seen in the video of racers. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, which showed off her strong bone structure and big, dark eyes. My own eyes widened. Who the fuck was this?

“Hey!” she said, as she came within a few feet of us. “I didn’t know you were coming down today.”

“I didn’t know anyone would be here either,” Beck replied. “I thought they were still setting up for next weekend.”

“They are. I’m here for press pics.”

The woman’s eyes fell on me, still sitting on Beck’s bike with his arm around my waist. Her eyebrows rose. “Hello,” she said slowly, a heavy dose of skepticism in her voice.

I squinted at her, the sun shining in my eyes. “Hi.”

“Oh, sorry,” Beck said. “Rae, this is Mercedes Hill. She’s one of the riders on the women’s team. Sadie, Raegan O’Rourke.”

It bothered me that he didn’t give me any qualifying title. Sadie was one of the riders. I was just me. I mean, what was he supposed to say, I guess. “This is Raegan. She’s from a rival gang and we’ve kind of kidnapped her, but are also using her to potentially steal money and/or information. She can’t ride bikes, but she can shoot you in the head.”

That probably would not go over well.

Sadie smiled coyly at Beck. “A couple of us girls are going out tonight.” She stepped closer to him, shooting me a fake smile. “You and the guys should come out. It’ll be fun. Like that night in New Forge when you and Rush came out.” Her implication was clear: I could go fuck myself.

Beck still held my waist. The weight of his hand was the only thing stopping me from climbing off the bike. My blood boiled in my veins. I was pissed he took my guns because I was going to murder this tactless bitch and I didn’t want to bruise my knuckles.

Beck scanned my expression and chuckled. He didn’t look away, effectively dismissing her. “Nah, we’re good.”

She scoffed. “Since when?” Her face turned red as she glared daggers at me.

Beck looked down at me. “Recently.”

“Who is this again?” She sneered.

Beck’s gaze snapped back to her. For the first time, I was seeing the hardened gangster. Goddammit, he was hot. My entire body heated when he turned his eyes back on me and didn’t look away. “Don’t be jealous Sadie. It’s not a good look for you.”

“Fine, whatever,” she huffed. The tips of her ears turned red.

I waited two seconds for her to be slightly out of earshot before turning to Beck. “Friend of yours?” I said, as casually as I could manage.

“Not really.” He grinned. “You’re hot when you're all murdery, Little Thief. Love the violence.”

I snorted, holding out my arms for him to help me down. He did, swinging me back onto the ground. “Yeah? You into that?” I joked.

His eyes flashed, but he ignored the question. “You going to come to my race next weekend?”

For the first time since I met him, he looked unsure. I wanted to wipe that look from his face. “Hell yeah, I will.”

His smile was like the cat that ate the canary, so big it took up his whole face. God, what must it be like to be so happy so easily? I wanted to soak up his good mood and save it for later. If I wasn’t careful, I could get addicted.