Shake It Up

by J. Kenner

Her lips curved into an ironic smile. "Definitely, but I was thinking about all the non-public things I enjoy doing with you. Too bad we have to play out the public side of this charade at all."

  Her words lit a fire in him that only got hotter when they'd returned to Dripping Springs, and he'd taken her straight through the house to his old bedroom, then made love to her slowly for most of the afternoon.

  Later, as they lay naked in each others arms, Taylor rolled over, then propped herself up, her elbows on his bare chest. "I liked doing nothing with you this afternoon," she murmured, her eyes never leaving his.

  He reached up and stroked her silky hair, enjoying the way it trailed over his body now that it was falling loose around her face and wasn't tied back in her usual ponytail. "Me, too," he admitted. Then he grinned. "I could get used to this," he said, repeating the words he'd spoken to her after their first time together.

  Only this time when he said it, what he meant was, I love you.

  * * *

  Up until the moment they actually met with Easton in a quiet corner of the small back bar section of The Fix, Taylor had been terrified by the prospect of revealing all her secrets to anyone other than Landon. But then Easton had arrived wearing an air of cool confidence and trustworthiness as prominently as he wore his perfectly tailored gray suit, and her hesitations evaporated.

  She'd officially retained him earlier that day over the phone, and at the same time, he'd suggested that Landon retain him as well, ostensibly so that they could all three freely discuss any legal ramifications of Landon's continuing to help her now that he knew about the stolen drug money.

  "Oh, God," she'd said. "He's like aiding and abetting, isn't he?"

  Easton had only chuckled and told her that at the moment, his only concern was letting them both speak to him with each other present without waiving the attorney-client privilege. "That means Landon needs to be my client, too," he'd said.

  Now at The Fix, he reminded them both that, "Anything you tell me is protected by the privilege. I'm like a vault. So you can tell me anything."

  It was the perfect thing to say to calm her nerves. Even more, the fact that he'd taken such care to make sure that Landon could be with her during this key conversation, ensured that Taylor was not only relaxed, but trusted him completely.

  She had no idea if Easton knew the law, but he definitely knew people. And she figured that was half the game.

  After that, it was easy to dive in and tell him the same story that she'd told Landon. He let her do most of the talking, only interrupting for clarification before he wrote a note on his yellow legal pad.

  When she finally sat back, finished, Easton asked Landon about the results of the search for outstanding warrants.

  "Several in Arkansas. Mostly drug related. But I got a text this morning. He's got an outstanding warrant in Louisiana. A murder charge. Apparently the prosecution had an airtight case, but the judge let him out on bail before trial. He skipped."

  "You manage to catch him, then you can pretty much guarantee that between the Louisiana and Arkansas warrants, your buddy Beau will be going away for a nice, long time."

  "Exactly," Landon said, then reached under the table for her hand and held it tight. "Hopefully so long his sorry face never sees the sky without there being bars or a fence between him and the view."

  "Cheers to that," she said, then took a sip of the beer she'd ordered when they'd first arrived.

  They moved on to the money next, and Easton's thoughts pretty much tracked what Landon had outlined, only in a lot more detail. Still, the bottom line was that she returned the money, but didn't end up with any dings against her because she'd also testify against him and her father. Not to mention Beau's entire organization.

  "What about the money I spent?"

  "I'm hoping that they'll consider your testimony valuable enough to call it even," Easton told her. "He shifted his attention to Landon. "No sign of Harkness recently?"

  "Nothing, and we've been coming into Austin and being very public together at The Fix and around campus for over a week now."

  Easton nodded slowly. "Could be he gave up and went home, but I don't believe it. He's biding his time. And you either wait, or you draw him out."

  "Not much luck there," she said. "But I'm not sure what we're supposed to do. Strip naked and frolic on Sixth Street?"

  "Maybe something close to that," Landon said.

  She thought he was joking, but when she turned to shoot him a be serious look, she saw that he was looking through the open doorway into the main bar area ... and right at the stage that hosted the Man of the Month contests.

  "Perfect," Easton said, without missing a beat. "Get Megan to include you in the flyer for this week's contest. He'll know exactly where you'll be--and when."

  "And if I'm on that stage, then I'm not at Taylor's side."

  "Exactly," Easton said.

  "Um, hello? Doesn't this plan kind of suck for me?"

  But Landon only grinned. "Trust me," he said.

  And since she did, she nodded and said the only thing she could. "Okay."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Taylor sat cross-legged on the bed, her computer on her lap, wearing only plain cotton underwear and one of Landon's APD T-shirts. It was two in the afternoon, and she hadn't brushed her hair yet, much less thought about make-up.

  Normally on a Wednesday, she'd be hurrying by now, getting dressed so that she could get to The Fix by five in order to set up with plenty of time before the contest. Tonight, though, she was playing the role of bait. Which was why Mina was once again stepping in as the stage manager--and Taylor was enjoying a lazy afternoon trolling the classified section of The Hollywood Reporter, checking out potential LA jobs.

  For the last year or so, that had been her favorite mindless occupation--poking around and fantasizing about what sort of job she'd get right out of the gate in New York or LA after she graduated.

  Lately, though--as in, post-Landon--she'd been less enthused by the New York and LA listings. Instead, the job postings from the Texas Film Commission seemed suddenly quite fascinating. There was even a job at the company where Mina had recently started working.

  And, yeah, she was going to ask her friend for the scoop.

  Or, maybe she wasn't.

  The simple fact was that her entire perspective on her future had changed. Before, it had just been her, alone in the world even though she was surrounded by friends. Leaving town would be easy.

  Now, the thought made her stomach ache. She didn't want to be just Taylor. She wanted to be Landon and Taylor.

  Trouble was, she wasn't sure if Landon wanted the same thing.

  The attraction between them was real--no doubt about that. And she didn't question that he cared about her. But how far did that go? Until they caught Beau? Until he went back to his day job?

  Forever?

  Please, let him want forever.

  She needed to talk with him--she knew that. But when? Not today. Not when they were trying to catch a guy who probably intended to kill her once he caught and dragged her back to Arkansas. The last thing she wanted was to distract Landon with relationship stuff. He needed to be on-game. He was running the whole operation--all while strutting half-naked across a stage.

  So when?

  It was a question she didn't find a quick answer for, but when he walked through the door moments later in the jeans he wore so damn well, his shirtless torso damp from a shower, her resolve ratcheted up a thousand-fold.

  Tonight.

  They'd catch Beau, she'd invite Landon to her apartment to celebrate, they'd have wine and make love, and as he held her close, she'd tell him that she loved him.

  Assuming she didn't die of nervousness before then.

  "You okay?" He sat on the edge of the bed, his brows drawn in concern.

  "Just scared," she said, offering the truth and knowing he'd misunderstand.

  He took her hand. "We'll have ten plainclothes officers on site. A
nd we don't have to wait for him to make a move against you. Those warrants are cause. You see him, you signal."

  "He may not be there at all," she said.

  "It's a possibility, but I'm betting he comes."

  She hoped so. They'd walked their legs off delivering three times the normal number of flyers around downtown. "Fingers crossed. And of course I'll be looking. But your view from the stage will be better."

  He nodded. "True, but I've only seen photos. You're our best hope since he'll undoubtedly be wearing some sort of disguise. Hard for me to see through, but easier for you."

  She swallowed and nodded. He was right. Even after eight years, she'd recognize Beauregard Harkness even if he was disguised. His image was burned onto her soul.

  "I asked Reece to move one of the tall cocktail tables near the stage," Landon continued. "You can pretend to be so enamored of my awesomeness that you climb on top of your stool to get a better look."

  She grinned. "Like a groupie. Nice."

  He reached over and plucked at the shirt. "Looks like you already are."

  A wave of mortification swept over her. "I'm sorry. I wanted something oversized, and I just pulled open a drawer. I wasn't thinking, and I--"

  He silenced her with a kiss. "I like it."

  "Yeah? What exactly?"

  He chuckled. "All of it. The way you look in my shirt. And the fact that you're comfortable enough to plow through my stuff."

  She bopped him with the small pillow supporting her knee. "There was no plowing. I was very neat."

  "I may not wash that shirt for months, you know. Once you take it off, it's going to smell like you. The guys at work will wonder why I'm walking around with a constant hard-on."

  "Oh, no. No talk like that. We have to get ready. There's no time for sex."

  "There's always time for sex."

  She bent forward and kissed him, very slow and with a lot of tongue. "After you win the Mr. August crown."

  "Well, hell. Now I have to really try."

  "Landon? Your mom said you don't date much since you and Vanessa divorced."

  Not surprisingly, his eyes widened at the sudden shift in topic. "My mother talks too much."

  "Your mother is amazing." She wished she'd kept her mouth shut. Because she was edging very close to the very territory she'd just told herself she wanted to avoid tonight.

  But the question of Vanessa had been bothering her, and dammit, it had just popped out.

  He'd mentioned her almost in passing to Taylor one day when they'd taken a picnic basket into Austin's Zilker Park. He'd been matter-of-fact, but she'd sensed real hurt beneath the words. And after talking with Gayle, she feared that he'd pretty much sworn off relationships.

  And if he had, what did that mean for the two of them?

  "Landon?" she pressed when he stayed quiet.

  "Mom's right," he said. "Once bitten, twice shy, I guess. Plus, I'm in a hard profession. Tends to scare off anyone who wants stability. You know, sane people. And anyone who does get caught in the net ultimately tears themselves free and runs far and fast."

  She nodded, hating that she understood where he was coming from. And hating even more that his view of the world might be a view that didn't have her on the horizon.

  She blinked, aware of the tears filling her eyes. "It was like that with my mom," she said, as much because it was true as to camouflage her tears. "You're right. People don't stick. Things get hard, and they fail you." She drew a shaky breath. "But I really am sorry about your wife."

  He took her hand, then held it to his heart.

  "And I'm sorry about your mom. But Taylor, whatever happens with Beau, I'm seeing this through to the end. You can take that to the bank."

  She nodded, those damn tears finally spilling down her cheeks.

  And still the one big question remained--when exactly was the end? And would they still be together afterwards?

  * * *

  By seven o'clock, Taylor was a live wire of anticipation, so hyped up that not even the Fizzy Watermelon she was sipping took the edge off her nerves.

  By eight o'clock, she was parked at the cocktail table by the stage squeezing Megan's hand so tight she was probably shattering bone.

  By eight-thirty, her body had started to feel cold, even though she'd started to sweat. She caught Landon's eye from where he stood on the stage, having just walked the red carpet as contestant number six. He made a campy silly speech about protecting and serving the community by displaying himself half-naked at the contest, then proceeded to strip off his shirt to a chorus of wolf whistles and applause.

  If she'd been paying more attention, she might have been jealous of the high level of female appreciation compared to the previous contestants. As it was, she hardly noticed. All she could focus on was his subtle shake of his head. And her own disappointment reflected on his face. No sign of Beau.

  By nine, she was so frustrated by Beau's failure to show that she didn't even hear when the emcee announced that Landon was the winner, and it wasn't until Megan shoved her forward that she leaped to her senses and started applauding.

  He did the usual bow-taking, then hurried down the stairs to her side.

  Immediately, the nearby women surrounded them.

  Megan, thank goodness, swooped in, telling everyone to give Mr. August some space, and he'd circulate for autographs and pictures in just a minute.

  "Nothing," Landon said to Taylor. "Not even a hint of a sign. Goddammit."

  Her lips felt cracked and dry, her entire body cold. She'd been so certain that the nightmare would end tonight. "I can't--I don't want to keep looking over my shoulder."

  "He may have left town. Realized we had a bead on him, and gotten himself lost. He knows he's got a stack of warrants following him. He gets caught, he's in a cage."

  "Maybe."

  He took her hand, then held it tight in his own. "You don't sound convinced."

  She exhaled. "It's just that even if he did leave, he'll be back. When does it end, Landon--" Her voice broke, and she felt like a fool. But, dammit, she wanted this to be over.

  "I know, baby. But we'll--shit." He cursed the interruption, then grabbed his ringing phone out of his back pocket. "We were supposed to silence them for the contest, but with a ten man team inside and outside the building, I wanted to be able to get calls."

  Now, he frowned at the screen, then lifted the phone to his ear. "Go ahead, Sanchez."

  He was silent for a minute, and even in the noisy bar, Taylor could hear the beating of her heart. Something was happening. She didn't know what, though. His face was blank. Or at least it was until he looked at her. Then a wide smile lit his face. "Baby," he said. "We got him."

  "What?" The squeal broke out of her at the same time she launched herself at him. He caught her and spun her, barely missing one of the speakers.

  When he put her back down, she was breathing hard, but deliriously happy. "Tell me."

  "The team outside identified him and grabbed him. Smooth as silk. They've already notified Louisiana and Arkansas, and he's currently in a cruiser on the way to a holding cell."

  "It's over." She held his arm, because if she didn't, her legs probably couldn't support her weight. "I can't believe it."

  He bent to her, his lips brushing her ear. "Let's get out of here and go celebrate."

  Laughing, she danced backward. "Oh, no. You have to spend time with your adoring public. And I," she added with a wink, "need time to get ready. My apartment. Come when you've finished here. I'll make sure I'm ready." She stepped closer, then rose up on her toes to kiss him, slow and deep and very thoroughly. "Make sure you're ready, too," she whispered.

  She broke away then, blowing him one last kiss before she hurried out the door to a street that was safe. A town that felt like hers again.

  She'd loved her days with Landon, but dear God how she'd missed the freedom of not feeling like she was under a microscope.

  Since she still didn't have a car, she caught a
rideshare home, using the short drive to think about the various pieces of sexy lingerie she owned. Or, maybe she should just meet him naked at the doorway...

  She was considering all the possible outcomes of that lovely idea when she reached her door and slid her key in, only then remembering that she had a security system that she didn't know how to use. For a second, she hesitated, then recalled that she was supposed to have come back with Landon so that they could arm the system and he could make sure she knew all of its features.

  Which meant the place hadn't been locked down. But, she thought gleefully, that didn't matter since the supreme asshole jerkwad of her life was on his way to a long and fruitful life in prison, where she hoped he'd enjoy his new status as the butt-monkey of someone named Brutus.

  With that happy thought dancing in her head, she opened her door and stepped inside--then screamed so loud it felt like she'd ripped her vocal cords as Beauregard Harkness grabbed her by the ponytail, slid the cold blade of a knife against her throat, and whispered, "Hey there, little girl. Bet you missed me, huh?"

  Chapter Fifteen

  There was no doubt that the women gathered around him begging for selfies were good for his ego, but after fifteen minutes, Landon had his fill of the adulation. He wanted Taylor, and only Taylor. He wanted to hold her, touch her.

  And, yes, he wanted to tell her he loved her. Something his mother had realized even before he had. But Gayle Bartlett was a smart woman, and she knew her son. Because he was head-over-heels. And the sooner he told her--the sooner he learned if she felt the same--then the sooner their life together could begin.

  Brent came up to him and slapped him congenially on the back. "Congrats. Couldn't have happened to a better man."

  Landon chuckled. "Be careful what you say. You know you're not getting out of playing this game, right? Eventually, either Jenna or Megan's going to talk you into standing exactly where I'm standing now."

  "But until then, I'm the one wearing a shirt."

  Landon rolled his eyes and grabbed his shirt off the stage. He was pulling it on when his phone rang, and he missed the damn call. As soon as the shirt was over his head, he pulled his phone out, then frowned when he saw that it was Sanchez. He was about to hit the number to call the detective back, when the phone rang again.