Leather and Sand (Riding the Line Series) by Jayna Vixen Read Free Book Online Page A

a total douchebag.
    The way the other man looked at Rhee bothered Dax in a very primal way. Something told him to stay close, and that something had obviously been right. Dax had learned not to ignore that little something that whispered to him when things were going sideways. He had acted on his intuition too late one time, long ago, and it had cost a dear friend his life. Dax wasn’t about to let anything remotely like that happen again.
    As the guests filtered out of the hotel, Dax cased the parking lot. The night wore on, and finally, there were only a few cars left. One of them had to be hers. He waited, fueled by a sadistic desire to see the stowaway again, even if he refrained from any direct interaction with her.
    Great. Now I can add “stalker” to my long list of accomplishments.
    Dax was taking a long pull of his second joint when Rhee finally entered the parking lot. She was walking fast, with the douchebag practically foot-racing her to her car. Dax was moving towards them before Rhee even realized the guy’s intent. When the other man put his hands on her, Dax just saw red. He wasn’t even sure what had happened, but now he was standing a few feet from the girl he had spent nearly three years pining over, blood staining his suit and his hands. It was rather surreal—even though it wasn’t the first time he beat the shit out of someone for mistreating an innocent person.
    Finally, he looked the stowaway full in the face and the shock of looking into her eyes took his breath away. Her face was just as expressive as he recalled. And just as hauntingly beautiful. More so, perhaps. Rhee’s eyes were wide, scared, and somewhat shocked as she regarded him silently. She blinked a few times, as if to confirm that he was really there.
    Dax said nothing. He could think of nothing to say. What could he say?
    Sorry I beat up your boyfriend? Sorry I fucked up your life? Oh, hey Rhee. How have you been?
    Dax’s eyes traveled from her bare feet to her rumpled dress. She shivered and he chastised himself for his insensitivity. Dax shrugged the stained gray jacket from his shoulders and approached to wrap it around Rhee’s shoulders. He was startled when she jerked away as though he was trying to burn her with a lit cigarette.
    “Jesus Christ, Dax!” Rhee hissed, pulling away from his touch. “What the hell are you doing here? And what did you do to my boss?” Rhee’s voice was angry and accusatory.
    Dax froze in his tracks, the jacket dangling limply in his hands. He was at a loss for words.
    She is angry with me ?!
    Dax could only stare in disbelief as Rhee crept to the man lying facedown on the ground. He rubbed his bruised knuckles as she tended to her boyfriend, or whoever the fuck he was. Dax felt a twinge of guilt as she worried over the douchebag. Had he misjudged the situation? It looked like Rhee cared about the schmuck.
    Dax watched Rhee, morbidly fascinated, as she rummaged in her purse and yanked out her phone, presumably to call 9-1-1. Did she need a reminder of his ability to handle things like this? He lifted her phone from her so fast she looked down at her hands in surprise. Then, she got in his face. Hm. She’s changed. Rhee was practically shouting, but Dax didn’t really hear her words. First, he was amused by her unexpected reaction. Then, he was distracted by her proximity, fascinated by her full, pink mouth as she railed at him. This was no timid college girl any longer.
    Although he was indignant that Rhee failed to acknowledge his timely assistance, among other transgressions of hers, Dax found himself unable to respond and defend himself. If he did, there was no telling what he would say, or do. So, he let Rhee have her tirade while he slipped his own phone from his pants and shot off a few texts.
    “A couple of affiliates will be here soon. They’ll patch up your boyfriend…”
    “Darren is NOT my boyfriend, Daxter Jamison! He is— was —my boss! Shit! What am I going to do now! I