Because I Can

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Then Dash’s fingers are between my legs, stroking me, teasing me, but the tease doesn’t last long. I’m wet and ready, and he needs no further invitation. He drives into me, his hand smacking my backside, harder than I expect, but something arousing in a way I also do not expect, before he thrusts yet again.

  There’s a part of me then that knows that this is a time when Dash would fight, when he would look for an outlet. I’m that outlet tonight. But he’s holding back. With his secrets, and how he fucks me. I don’t know all there is to know about this man. Because he thinks I’ll hate him if I do. But I won’t, and as I push against him as he thrusts inside me, I know that this, what we are doing right now, isn’t enough for him.

  If I don’t find a way to break through to Dash, he’ll fight again. And he’ll shut me out when he does.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Dash doesn’t say another word about his father.

  After that cold, sexy encounter on the hotel balcony, we go to the gym and he runs for an hour. After that, we go to the room and have sex again. We wake up and repeat. Sex. Gym. Sex. All of this is a better outlet than fighting or booze, which the latter doesn’t seem to be a vice for Dash. Just as he didn’t let Tyler drive Allison home drunk, he doesn’t let us drive drunk either. For all his self-hate, Dash is an amazing, giving person. I’m baffled as to why his father wouldn’t feel the same.

  It’s almost noon when we eat a light lunch in the room. Dash heads to the shower, and I call Bella, who’s been texting with me since Dash ordered her to stay home.

  “How is he?”

  “Broody,” I say. “Don’t tell me details, it’s his story to tell, but do you even know why they hate each other?”

  “No. He doesn’t talk about it, and that’s saying a lot considering how close we are.”

  “Yes. And I’m glad for it, Bella. He needs you.”

  “He needs you, too. I want to come there, I want to help.”

  “He knows that. And that’s enough. He wants to fly home after the signing anyway. He chartered a plane,” I say, sharing the news Dash had shared with me before we ever went to bed last night.

  “I think that might be a good idea. Call me after the signing. Or text me if you can’t call.”

  “I will,” I promise, and set my phone down, praying this signing isn’t going to go as badly as I think it might.

  ***

  Dash dresses for the signing in black jeans, a thin black sweater, and a jacket, that he pairs with his favorite black boots. He looks handsome, cool, and every bit the famous writer that he’s become. I wear a downplayed black dress for a reason. This day is about Dash. My role is one of support, my attention, and everyone else’s, will be on him.

  The signing itself is at a hotel overlooking Battery Park, where the ocean views are second only to the direct line of sight that is the Statue of Liberty. And holy wow, there are people waiting to get into the hotel everywhere. “They have to be freezing.”

  “I have loyal fans,” Dash says, glancing over at me. “But then, so does my father.”

  Not like Dash, I think, and I wonder if that’s a problem between them, perhaps not “the” problem, but a problem.

  Dash laces his fingers with mine. “Stay with me, even when I’m signing.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I promise, certain this attachment is about the other promise I made, to avoid his father.

  The driver pulls us to a side entrance and security ushers us inside. A petite woman with dark hair and glasses, whose age I just can’t name, greets us. Tina, as she tells us is her name, quickly declares herself Dash’s ambassador. Ambassador of what, I don’t know, but apparently making him comfortable because she guides us to a private room where there are chairs, water, a television, and snacks.

  “Your father is one room over,” she says. “Or he will be when he arrives. We’d planned on doing a little chat with both of you and the press before we opened the doors, but we’ll have to run with that after the event. He’s running late. The guests are outside freezing their asses off so we will want to start right on time.” She eyes her watch. “That’s in half an hour. Can I get you anything now?”

  “No,” Dash says. “We’re good.”

  Her phone buzzes with a message, she quickly reads before she says, “Dash, I just got word that the powers that be would like to go forward with the photo op and question-and-answer session without your father. Are you okay with that?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” he says. “To do whatever I need to do to ensure the event is successful.”

  “I heard you were down to earth and really great to work with. I heard right. Give me five and I’ll be back to get you.

  She exits and Dash glances over at me. “Chicken shit is hiding.”

  “You don’t think he’ll no show, do you?”

  “No. He’ll come in the last minute to avoid being compared to me on stage, or better yet, asked about me being his pride and joy. He’d choke on the words.”

  I step to him and wrap my arms around him. “Well, I’m excited to experience this. I can’t wait to see all the fans that love you almost as much as I do.”

  “You love me, huh?” he says, molding me closer.

  “I do, Dash,” I say, surprised at how easily those words roll off my tongue. “Very much.”

  “Say it again.”

  I laugh. “I love you, Dash Black.”

  “I love you, too, cupcake.”

  There’s a knock on the door and Tina pokes her head inside. “We’re a go.”

  Dash releases me and draws a breath, and gives Tina a wave of readiness. Turns out, the press and photo op are in a private room that is quite large. I sit in a row of what must be fifty seats, all filled with book and entertainment reporters.

  Dash sits on a stage with someone named Alex and answers his questions, which range from his books to the movies, before Alex takes questions from the crowd. All the while, cameras flash, from all sides of the room. And all the while I wait anxiously, nervously, for Brandon or Dash’s father to show up, or perhaps both.

  When finally, Alex announces, “Nathan Black is in the house. And the crowds outside are ready for food, prizes, and signed books.”

  Dash stands and walks down the stairs, motioning for me to join him. He reaches for my hand and cameras flash. Someone calls out, “Who’s your lady friend, Dash?” but Dash keeps walking.

  We exit to a private hallway where Tina meets us. “They’re opening the doors right now. We need to get you to your table.” She motions for us to follow and hurries forward.

  We enter a room lined with windows that open to a view that is ocean blue brilliance. The room itself is decorated with Halloween décor and there are little tables of cupcakes and finger foods.

  “Thank fuck,” Dash says, when he realizes his father’s table is on the far side of the room. They literally cannot interact, nor can I interact with his father. I can’t even really make out what he looks like from this distance. That’s how big the room is. That’s how far away he is. I don’t think Brandon is here either. I guess he stirred the caldron with a little acid and then left us all to fall in. The problem is that Brandon isn’t someone who leaves anything to chance.

  Even if he’s not here, he has a plan to make that acid burn.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Dash sits down at his signing table and pulls a chair up for me beside him. I claim it eagerly and say, “I know how crazy signings can get. I’ll help you manage the craziness. I love this, Dash. The readers. The books. Focus on this being your life, not your father.”

  “Good advice, cupcake. Good advice.”

  And no sooner than he says those words, the doors open and the crowds rush forward, security guards forming lines. Before long, Dash and I are talking to his fans, and he’s not the only one in the pictures. I’m with him so the fans want shots of me, as well. It’s kind of silly but I go with the flow. Time ticks on and the lines don’t ease, but Dash’s father’
s line is not anywhere near as long as his. I feel a pinch of discomfort for him. I mean, it has to be hard to be second best, but then again, shouldn’t a parent have pride in their child?

  Dash’s ex-editor, Ellen, checks on him several times, giving me a side-eye as she does. Guess she knows I get to read his books first now. I kind of can’t help but get a thrill from that after she had me edit his book and took the credit way back when.

  Hours pass, and the crowd disperses. Tina reappears and kneels between us. “I want to get you and your dad in a few photos, Dash.”

  I glance over at his father’s table and he’s already left the signing area, which I can assume means he’s already at the photo op. Dash isn’t getting out of direct contact with him, but then neither is his father with him.

  Tina’s phone buzzes with a text and she glances at it before saying, “Okay, I need to talk to security. I’ll meet you in the hallway.” She hurries away.

  I rotate to face Dash, my hand on his leg. “Just do it and get it over with. Take the photos. Say nothing. Come back to me.”

  He stands and pulls me to my feet. “I need you to wait in the holding room, Allie.”

  “Dash—”

  He presses his hand to my shoulder. “Please.”

  My belly flutters with worry and I reluctantly say, “Yes. Okay.”

  He laces the fingers of one hand with his and starts walking. He doesn’t stop until I’m in that holding room.

  “This will be fast.” That’s all he says, and then he’s gone, exiting the room and shutting the door. I start to pace, fretting over what could go wrong. If either of them shows animosity with each other, they’ll be all over the internet. But I’m only pacing five minutes when the door opens and Dash reappears.

  “He’s not feeling well,” Dash announces of his father. “No photo op. We are free to get the hell out of here.”

  “Oh good. Yes. Now. Please.”

  Dash already has my hand in his and we’re walking down the hallway, toward the exit. “The driver’s waiting on us.”

  We’re almost to the door when I spy a bathroom. “I have to stop. We’ve been at that table for hours.”

  “Yeah. Not a bad idea, especially since there’s apparently a traffic jam we have to make it through to get back to the hotel.”

  “I’ll be fast,” I say, darting into the bathroom. And I am fast, so fast, but not fast enough.

  I step into the hallway to find Dash and his father standing toe-to-toe. I inhale and step to Dash’s side. His father, who resembles Dash, but with gray hair, his stature less potent, his skin a bit too sun-kissed, jerks his gaze to me.

  “Does she know who you really are?” he demands, as if I’m not here, as if he’s not looking right at me.

  “Go to the car, Allie,” Dash orders.

  “Why?” his father demands. “So she won’t hear you’re a killer? So she won’t know you were with your brother when he died?”

  “I wasn’t with him when he died. Allie—”

  “You let him die.”

  “I was not his damn keeper,” Dash snaps.

  “Piece of shit. You don’t deserve your success. Sounds like you made a deal with the devil to me.”

  My God, I think. The way he’s talking to Dash. “Let’s go, Dash,” I say, tugging his arm. “Let’s go now.”

  His father looks at me again. “He’ll hurt you. Maybe you’ll accidentally end up dead, like my son.”

  “He’s your son, too,” I snap at him. “Then again, you’re no father. Come now, Dash.”

  Dash stares at his father another beat and then turns and starts walking, taking me with him, but I’m a willing companion. Security opens the door for us and we climb into the back of the SUV.

  “Drive,” Dash orders the minute he shuts the door.

  The driver sets us in motion, but Dash doesn’t look at me. He lowers his head, fingers tunneling into his hair. I want to touch him. I want to talk to him, but I know we’re not alone and he’s a hair away from snapping. And he does. Suddenly, he looks up and says, “Stop the vehicle.”

  I turn to him. “What? Why?”

  The driver pulls us to a sidewalk and Dash opens the door and gets out. I follow him, but he catches my arms and halts me at the door.

  “We don’t work. I was selfish to think we worked, Allie. Go home. It’s better that way. Neil will watch over you until this Allison thing is figured out. He’ll call you. Answer when he does.”

  My eyes burn and my chest pinches. “Don’t do this,” I plead. “Don’t let him blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault divide us.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t my fault, Allie? How do you know anything about me when you don’t know that?”

  “Don’t go and fight, Dash. Brandon, and your father, they’re watching. This was all planned. They want to take you down. Don’t fight. Please. I’m begging you.”

  “Go home,” he says again, and with that bitter command, he releases me, and turns, and starts walking. I round the door and intend to follow, and I try, but I make it half a block and he’s just gone. I can’t see him anymore.

  I’m trembling when I climb back into the SUV and shut the door. “Where to, ma’am?”

  Where to?

  Home, Dash said. I don’t even know where that is right now, but obviously, Dash just broke up with me. I give the driver my apartment address. I sink back into the seat and try to breathe and calm myself. I will not melt down here, right now. I won’t. And somehow, I really do hold it together. I arrive at my apartment and dig in my purse, thankful I always keep a key in my side pocket, just in case. I’m still trembling, so much so that I can barely open my door. I flip on the light and just stare at the familiar space. My apartment. I lock up and walk to the bedroom, sitting on the mattress and plopping my purse on the bed next to me.

  Now, the tears flow. Now, they stream down my cheeks. Maybe this really is where I belong after all.

  THE END…FOR NOW

  The finale for the Necklace Trilogy will be out next month!! Get it here: https://www.lisareneejones.com/necklace-trilogy.html

  ***

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  ***

  Don’t miss the Lucifer Trilogy coming soon—the latest Walker Security series!

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  EXCERPT FROM THE WALKER SECURITY: ADRIAN TRILOGY

  I exit the bathroom and halt to find him standing in the doorway, his hands on either side of the doorframe. “What are you doing?

  “This,” he says, and suddenly, his hands are on my waist, and he’s walked me back into the bathroom.

  Before I know what’s happening, he’s kicked the door shut, and his fingers are diving into my hair. “Kissing you, because I can’t fucking help myself. And because you might not ever let me do it again. That is unless you object?”

  That’s the part that really gets me. The “unless I object,” the way he manages to be all alpha and demanding and still ask. Well, and the part where he can’t fucking help himself.

  I press to my toes and the minute my mouth meets his, his crashes over mine, his tongue doing a wicked lick that I feel in every part of me. And I don’t know what I taste like to him, but he is temptation with a hint of tequila, demand, and desire. His hands slide up my back, fingers splayed between my shoulder blades, his hard body pressed to mine, seducing me in every possible way.

  I moan with the feel of him and his lips part from mine, lingering there a moment before he says, “Obviously, someone needs to protect you from me,” he says. “Like me.” And then to my shock, he releases me and leaves. The bathroom door is open and closed before I know what’s happened. And once again, I
have no idea if or when I will ever see him again.

  FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THE ADRIAN TRILOGY HERE:

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  THE BRILLIANCE TRILOGY

  It all started with a note, just a simple note handwritten by a woman I didn't know, never even met. But in that note is perhaps every answer to every question I've ever had in my life. And because of that note, I look for her but find him. I'm drawn to his passion, his talent, a darkness in him that somehow becomes my light, my life. Kace August is rich, powerful, a rock star of violins, a man who is all tattoos, leather, good looks, and talent. He has a wickedly sweet ability to play the violin, seducing audiences worldwide. Now, he’s seducing me. I know he has secrets. I don't care. Because you see, I have secrets, too.

  I’m not Aria Alard, as he believes. I’m Aria Stradivari, daughter to Alessandro Stradivari, a musician born from the same blood as the man who created the famous Stradivarius violin. I am as rare as the mere 650 instruments my ancestors created. Instruments worth millions. 650 masterpieces, the brilliance unmatched. 650 reasons to kill. 650 reasons to hide. One reason not to: him.

  FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THE BRILLIANCE TRILOGY HERE:

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  THE LILAH LOVE SERIES

  As an FBI profiler, it’s Lilah Love’s job to think like a killer. And she is very good at her job. When a series of murders surface—the victims all stripped naked and shot in the head—Lilah’s instincts tell her it’s the work of an assassin, not a serial killer. But when the case takes her back to her hometown in the Hamptons and a mysterious but unmistakable connection to her own life, all her assumptions are shaken to the core.