Red Hot Blues by Rachel Dunning Read Free Book Online

tight ass under those tight jeans, his
broad back, his black hair flitting in the wind.
    I uncrossed my legs, wondered where my
stomach had gone because it wasn’t inside my body anymore; shuffled
my feet.
    Waited.
    Waited.
    Waited...
    And then I heard it.
    The Harley.
    Loud and hard and strong and powerful.
    Oh my god.
    It came roaring around the corner with a
hungry, voracious, loud and angry rumble. I turned to see Ace on
it, guitar strapped to his back, riding the chopper down the
street.
    Of course he’d drive a Harley.
    Of course he would.

~ ACE ~
-16-
    The storm, the hurricane, the thunder and
lightning in my head for a man I hate, a man I can’t think of
because it burns my skin and hurts my heart, disappeared when I
heard her voice.
    Completely disappeared.
    I need to hear that again. Peace. I need
peace. I need peace in my mind. She brought that to me—a moment of
it. But a moment is more than I’ve had in over a decade.
    A decade of running.
    A decade of fighting.
    A decade. Of hating.
    Before, as a kid, I ran away in my mind,
through my music, in those adventure books I used to read. Now, I
run for real, road after road after road. Looking for peace in a
head filled with erupting volcanoes.
    And finding none.
    Except tonight.
    Tonight.
    It was there, peace—a moment; a precious,
priceless, all-engulfing moment.
    A man could hunt that moment like water in an
arid, dying desert.
    A man could hunt that moment like food for a
starving body.
    A man could hunt that moment like the
seductive woman he desires, after years in jail, in prison,
barricaded, alone, with no one. Except himself.
    A man, finding it once, would hunt that
moment if every army in the world stood in his way and barred him
from it. Forever. Endlessly.
    Peace . A moment.
    I need to see her again.
-17-
    Before I heard her sing? Well...that was
purely hormonal. No gallant reason there. That was simple, pure,
unadulterated sex appeal on her part.
    And I, being the typical male that I am, fell
into character. And I spoke to her, we shook hands and I introduced
myself.
    But after I’d heard her sing...
    Something changed. My plans with her changed.
I realized I couldn’t just take her. Because I might want to see
her again. And if I took her, she’d hate me.
    Because I always run.
    Always.
    She’s not my usual kind of girl. Was I turned
on by her? Absolutely. Turned on in a whole new way.
    She’s a little larger than the girls I’ve
been with before. But she’s sexy. Damn sexy. A little too
sexy for her own good. Only problem is, she seemed a little
under-confident. Getting into her pants would end up being a
problem. I’m all for sex when sex is to be had, but I’m not into
shattering a girl’s opinion of herself.
    Does she know how hot she is? Does she have a clue how sexy her cleavage is?
    Those eyes. Damn, those eyes pierced holes in
me. Bullets through the tin armor of my soul. Light blue, sexy
eyes. Contrasted by that black-as-night hair, the way she had it
done, just the right make-up. And those breasts...
    I’ve mentioned those already. I know. I’m
mentioning them again.
    And then that dude walked in the bar, a
bottle of Dos Perros dangling from his dirty fingers, cowboy hat,
his eyes so glazed I was sure they were about to roll back into his
head. He stumbled. And I saw him smirk when he saw her. He hung
back by the ATM machine, the one by the entrance of the Blues Bar
that charges you three bucks to use it, and he just watched her,
leered at her, smiled. And it was a dirty smile. It was the kind of
smile I wanted to wipe off. Quickly.
    Why was I suddenly so over-protective?
    Because she’s hot. Red hot. And I was
jealous. If Ginger had any idea how shapely she is she’d
have men dangling from her little fingers at every turn. But it’s
never about the way you look, it’s about the way you feel.
Something happened to her. I’m sure of that. I only realized this,
again, when I saw her up on stage. When we connected—that