Shake It Up

by J. Kenner

  "Come on," he said, standing up with her still curled in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her to his bedroom, still decorated as it had been when he was a teen.

  "Martial arts. Baseball. Marvel comics," she said, glancing at his walls.

  "What can I say? I was a pretty cool kid."

  "And an incredible man."

  He put her on the bed, then told her to relax. Slowly, he undressed her, and though she tried to touch him, he insisted that she stay perfectly still. "Tonight's about you," he said, then proceeded to caress her bare skin. The touch of his hands--roughened by all the work he'd been doing on his apartment--made her squirm and roused her senses. Silently, she spread her legs, then sighed with pleasure when he took the hint, his fingers teasing and playing with her, making her crave a more intimate touch.

  "Please," she murmured, but he said nothing. Instead, he moved between her legs, his body hard above hers. He kissed her mouth, nipping at her lower lip before trailing kisses down, lower and lower, until the muscles of her abdomen were quivering in anticipation and her sex was throbbing with desire.

  And then, thank God, his mouth closed over her, his tongue laving her core as she arched up, electricity zipping through her, firing her senses and sending her spiraling over--the speed and intensity of the orgasm completely unexpected.

  "Oh, God," she sighed. "I didn't--that was incredible."

  He slid up her body, then kissed her gently. "Someone needed some stress relief."

  "Mmmm. Someone did." Exhaustion weighed heavily on her. She wanted to return the favor, but she could barely keep her eyes open. It had been such a day.

  "It's okay," he murmured. "I've got you."

  And since she knew he did, she closed her eyes and let herself fall into the dark.

  * * *

  It was past midnight when Taylor woke with a start, her scream caught in her throat.

  The dream had been horrible. Beau finding them. Taking her. Torturing the Bartletts.

  And then, while she watched, killing Landon.

  What the hell had she brought with her?

  She knew better. She knew what Beau was capable of. And she damn sure knew that she should have gotten the hell out of Dodge the moment she'd caught even the slightest whiff that Beau was on her tail.

  She hadn't. She'd stayed.

  And she was going to bring hell down on so many people she cared about. People she loved.

  Loved.

  She closed her eyes, Landon's image filling her mind.

  Did she love him? Could she after so little time?

  She told herself it was impossible, but her heart said otherwise. He'd gotten inside her. Made a place for himself. She wanted him. More than that, she needed him. And if that wasn't love, she wasn't sure what was.

  In the end, though, that didn't matter. She wasn't going to put him at risk. Not when she knew how to fix it. To make it all go away.

  Quietly, she slipped out of bed. Silent tears streamed down her face as she dressed, then padded from the room.

  It was easy to get outside, and she started walking down the long drive to the gate at the end of the property. The lovely limestone house stood on five acres outside of Dripping Springs, a town just southwest of Austin. The property was gated, with excellent security, but she knew that anyone inside could get out without triggering an alarm. That was her plan. Walk out, call an Uber, and get her ass to South Austin to find Dominic.

  She glanced at her phone and flipped through her texts until she reached the one from yesterday. She'd sent it as a precaution. A safety net.

  But now it was time to use it.

  * * *

  Taylor: It's E. Are you still in the business?

  Dominic: I'm in. Talk in person. You remember the address?

  Taylor: Yes. Will be there if and when.

  * * *

  Satisfied, she nodded to herself. She'd see Dominic, he'd help her. And by tomorrow night, she'd be long gone.

  No more Landon.

  No more friends.

  Tears pricked her eyes again as she paused on the path, just a few yards shy of the pedestrian gate.

  Was this really the way?

  Could she really do this? Leave Landon behind?

  More important, did she want to?

  The answer filled her head, loud and resolute. Hell no.

  She froze, her heart pounding wildly. Because that was the real issue, wasn't it? She didn't want to leave. Didn't want to run anymore. She wanted to stay here, with the friends she'd made, living the life she'd built.

  She wanted Landon. His friendship. His laughter. His touches.

  And, yes, she wanted more. Or at least she wanted the chance for what already existed between them to grow into more.

  But she'd never get that chance if she ran away.

  And maybe--just maybe--he could help her to end this once and for all.

  Slowly, she started to turn around. She was still terrified, but she was more resolved, and one step at a time she started back toward the house.

  At first, she watched her feet as she walked, unsure of her footing in the dark. Then she lifted her head and saw something moving in front of her. A shadow.

  She froze, and was about to turn and run when she realized it was Landon. Jogging through the night toward her. Moving like a silent shadow over the crushed granite drive until he was right in front of her, his breath coming hard.

  "You were leaving," he said. "But now you're not?"

  "I'm not. I--I changed my mind."

  He studied her face. "Why?"

  She drew a breath. "A lot of reasons," she admitted. "But the only one that matters is you."

  A slow smile spread across his face. "I like that answer."

  "I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

  He laughed. "I assumed as much."

  "I was going to walk out the gate and keep on going."

  His eyes locked on hers. "I assumed that as well."

  Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lips. "You came after me."

  Gently, he reached out, then traced her lower lip with his thumb. Then he held up his own phone and showed her the little dot that represented her. "I would have come a hell of a lot further than the property line."

  "Why?" The question was barely a whisper.

  "I think you know why." He stepped closer, and the air between them felt charged with possibility. "Do you trust me?"

  "Yes."

  "Then don't you think it's time we finally talked?"

  There was an ironic twist to her smile. "If by talk, you mean that it's time for me to come clean, then yeah. It's time. I just--"

  "What?"

  "Nothing," she said. Because how could she tell him that her greatest fear was that once he knew the truth about her, he'd no longer want her anymore?

  Chapter Twelve

  They didn't go inside. Instead, they sat on a cushioned swing in the yard, far enough away from the house so as to not be in the glow of any ambient light. The night was moonless, and the dark surrounded them like a blanket as the stars blinked down, distant witnesses to the story she had to tell.

  He sat properly, his feet on the ground so that he could push them, making the swing rock in a soothing rhythm. She sat with her back to the armrest and her bare feet on his lap. He rested a hand on her ankle, and she focused on that point of connection. She needed his touch to tell the story, and though she was ready to share, she was also grateful that his face was half-hidden in the shadows of the night. Somehow, it was easier to talk to the dark.

  "I never lied," she began. "But I never really told the truth either."

  She paused, giving him a chance to comment or ask her a question. He remained silent though, and she understood that was how this would work. She'd tell the story from start to finish. And only then would the floor be his.

  After taking a long, deep breath, she began again. "It is Beau who's after me, but I really did think for a while that it c
ould be Reggie--I wasn't pulling your chain. But I thought so because of the theater references. And, well, because I knew the alternative, and couldn't believe that after so many years he'd found me."

  She cleared her throat. "I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyway, once we talked to Reggie, it was clear that Beau had found me. And when I told you he was a creepy ex, that was mostly true, too. He's definitely creepy. And he's sort of an ex. But not the way you think." She paused, looking into the darkness. "Landon?"

  She knew he was being quiet so she could get it all out. But she needed to hear his voice.

  Gently, he squeezed the top of her foot. "I'm here, baby. I'm listening. Tell it however makes it easiest."

  "He--I--my mother left when I was fifteen. My father abused her. I grew up hearing her cry. Hearing the lash of his belt against her skin." She heard her voice crack and paused to take a deep breath. "But she fought back in her own way. She saved money. From the very first day he hit her, she started hiding money away. And the day she left, she gave me what she'd saved up. Nine thousand, six hundred and fourteen dollars and thirty-seven cents. It was in cash--in a metal lockbox--and she showed me how to pull up the kitchen tile to get to the place where she'd hidden it. Then she left."

  "For where?"

  "I don't know. And she never came back." Her hands were on her thighs, and now she dug her nails into her legs. That had been the worst part--that her mother had said she'd loved her. But she'd left and hadn't once looked back. As if that stupid cashbox was a substitute for having her mother with her. As if those dollars could magically keep her safe from her father.

  She'd learned a lesson though. The words I love you didn't mean shit. Her father had said them. Her mother had said them. And even though those two were polar opposites, they'd both been lying when those words left their mouths. Real love wouldn't have allowed her mother to walk away like that.

  And as for her father ... well, Dale Tucker wouldn't know love if it bit him on the ass.

  "She just left me with him." Her voice was a whisper. "Even though she knew what he'd do. What he was capable of."

  "Did he ... hurt you?"

  She shook her head, then voiced the word when she remembered that she was lost in the dark. "No. Not like you mean. But he was not a good man. He dealt drugs. He dealt weapons. I'm pretty sure he ran hookers. And he double-crossed his business partner. Not that the business was legitimate."

  Memories started flooding back, and she hugged herself, trying to keep them at bay. It was no use. The past rushed up, making her stomach churn as she pulled the pieces out to share with Landon. "It was drug money, and the partner was Beau."

  "Go on." She heard the tight edge in his voice and was certain that he believed that Beau had killed her father. But it was so much worse than that.

  "My dad--he refused to give the money back. And the truth was that Beau didn't care about the money. He had plenty of money. But he saw an opportunity to get something he did want."

  "What?" Landon asked.

  "Me." Her voice cracked as she spoke. "He'd always watched me. From the time I was ten years old he'd told my mother that he was going to have a piece of me. And on that day, he told my dad that he could keep the money. So long as my dad gave him me. And my father said yes."

  "Taylor, I can't even--"

  "I ran," she blurted. "I was barely sixteen, but I took the money myself, along with what my mom had given me, and I ran to Austin." She drew a breath. "There are people--you know--who can fix paperwork. Give you a life. I'd been around my dad long enough to know how to find them. So that's what I did. Little Eulalie Tucker became Taylor D'Angelo. I got a driver's license. I manufactured parents. I enrolled in high school. And I tried so damn hard to kill off that old life."

  Warm tears streaked down her cheeks. "That's why I didn't tell you. I've kept that secret for over eight years now. And the money's drug money. And I stole it. I knew it was tainted, and I took it. Worse, I spent some of it. Not much. But I used it to pay for some college. Some other stuff. Mostly, though, I used my mom's money and what I've earned. Most of the stash I still have."

  She sucked in a breath of air, then slowly let it out. "So there you go. I'm not the woman you thought I was."

  "No," he said softly, her stomach twisting with that horrible word. "You're even more amazing."

  "What?" She couldn't possibly have heard him right.

  "To go through all that? To survive?"

  "But I stole that money."

  "I know. Doesn't change my impression of you."

  "I--" But that was all she could get out. She'd been living with the secret--the guilt--for so long that to have someone be so matter-of-fact completely threw her off her game.

  "I'm not saying you can pull it out of the bank and start running around town buying cars and diamonds. But I am saying that there are a lot of mitigating circumstances involved in what you did. How much money are we talking about, by the way?"

  "A hundred and twenty-seven thousand."

  "And how much do you have left?"

  "A hundred and seventeen thousand. And change. All neat and tidy in a safe deposit box."

  He actually laughed. "Almost a decade and you've only spent ten thousand? What on?"

  "I told you, I used my mom's money first, and for all the stuff I had to do to get my fake IDs. I never, never wanted to touch my father's money. But later, I needed tuition money. And a place to live. And I figured that my dad owed me as much. Hell, even if Beau had taken me, he'd have put me someplace to live."

  She flashed a wry smile. "Not that Beau would look at it like that. Or the cops for that matter. Oh. I mean ... shit."

  His soft chuckle filled the air between them and his palm closed more tightly around her ankle. "Forget who you're sitting with?"

  "For a bit. Yeah."

  "Don't worry. I'm not going to slap my cuffs on you. Not for the money stash, anyway. But I can think of some other uses--ouch!"

  "Watch it, mister, or the next kick will be real." She tried to sound stern, but she couldn't hide her relief. "You're really not going to, well, do anything?"

  "I'm going to do a lot." He lifted her legs, then shifted them both until he was sitting by the armrest and she was in his lap. For a moment, she studied his face, though without a moon, she could read nothing in his eyes. The night was too dark. And so she simply rested her head on his shoulder and let the cadence of his voice soothe her.

  "I'm going to find that bastard, for one thing."

  "Good," she murmured, her lids starting to get heavy now that the adrenaline rush had faded.

  "I'm going to talk to a lawyer about working out a deal for you to turn what's left of the money over to the Arkansas police in exchange for testimony against Beau and your father."

  "My dad's already in prison. I looked him up once. He killed somebody outside of a liquor store. But if it'll keep him behind bars longer, I'll repeat the whole sordid story again."

  "The bottom line is that we're going to get you clear."

  Tears clogged her throat as she nodded. "Beau trashed your house because of me. And yet here you are, doing everything you can to help me."

  He brushed her hair off her face, then gently stroked her cheek. "Well, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm rather fond of you."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah," he said, then kissed her so tenderly that she almost started crying all over again. This time, from joy. Because for the first time, she truly felt like she wasn't alone in this. And that felt just fine.

  Chapter Thirteen

  For the next few days, Landon didn't let her out of his sight.

  He told himself it was because he was afraid that she'd get spooked and leave again, but the warm, wonderful truth was that he didn't believe that. So he told himself he was sticking close because he was afraid that Beau would find her on his parents' property.

  But that was bullshit, too.

  No, the real reason that he stuck like glue wasn't because he feared for h
er safety, but simply because he was a selfish man who wanted her beside him. He wanted to reach out and touch at his leisure. To hold her close at night. To walk with her, laugh with her. To simply be with her.

  "She's all I think about," he confessed to his mom, and Gayle had just laughed. "Landon Ware, I can't believe it. You're finally in love."

  Was he?

  He thought back to his days--and his nights--with Vanessa. The truth was, with his wife, it had been more about the nights. They'd had decent chemistry--though in retrospect it was nothing compared to the intensity of the connection between him and Taylor--but with Vanessa, it had been almost all about the sex.

  Thinking back now, he couldn't remember a substantive conversation with Vanessa that didn't involve sex or her fears for her safety and his. With Taylor, in the days they'd been together they'd talked about everything from television shows to home renovations to the process of setting up a fake identity. And sex. Though that subject tended to lead to practical demonstrations instead of intellectual ponderings.

  They'd also talked about the situation, and although they were staying at Landon's parents, they'd made daily excursions into Austin, spending time on campus near the drama department and also downtown at The Fix. The idea was to draw Beau out--to reiterate to him that despite his real estate shenanigans, Taylor and Landon were a couple--but there'd been no sign of him for days.

  Other reasons for Landon's excursions into downtown Austin were to check in with his friends at the APD--no news there, either--and to arrange a meeting with Easton Wallace, a prominent local attorney who both Taylor and Landon knew from The Fix.

  Now, Landon stood in the reception area of Easton's office, frowning as his secretary explained that Easton was traveling, but would be back in the office before the end of the week. With that timeline in hand, Landon scheduled an appointment, asking that Easton please meet them in the back bar area at The Fix.

  "Why not his office?" Taylor asked as they rode the elevator back down to the first floor.

  "I want us to be as public as possible. Anything to catch his attention."

  She frowned, but nodded.

  He kissed her forehead right before the elevator doors opened. "Scared?"