by K. A. Tucker
It was probably a mistake to let this happen.
* * *
The beginnings of dawn light the sky as Cain walks me to my apartment door. He casually suggested going back to his condo but I declined, barely able to get the excuses past the stabbing lump in my throat.
I have a dentist’s appointment.
I need to go grocery shopping.
I need to take my SUV in.
Lies. All lies.
He didn’t push, though, and I don’t know if it’s because the suggestion was not meant to be serious or because he took my excuses as a refusal of him. Or because he truly can tell when I’m lying to him and it pisses him off.
The car ride home was unusually silent and, as exhausted as I am after not sleeping for two days, as sated as I am, I almost fell asleep. If not for that sickness churning inside me the moment I pulled my dress on at the pier, I might have.
As I slide my key into the lock and push the door open, I sense Cain’s body step closer to me and I’m afraid he’s going to invite himself into my apartment. Afraid because I’ll have to send him away. Afraid because I would so much rather hold him close.
“Charlie?”
I grit my teeth for just a moment before I pull on a mask. Or try to. My adrenaline has finally worn off, leaving an empty shell of a girl who has experienced too many crippling emotions in the past thirty-six hours—both the best and the worst. I can’t even think straight. Thankfully, I’m too tired to cry; otherwise I’d be bawling my eyes out now.
I’m exactly where I was yesterday morning, only now the ache in my heart is all the more pronounced.
Finally, I turn around to face Cain, to soak in those warm brown eyes that peer down at me, his apprehension poorly veiled within them. “Thank you for tonight, Cain,” I begin, but I choke. Composing myself with a swallow, I manage to get out, “Thank you . . . for everything.” Why can’t I keep it together? Just for a little longer, dammit!
A deep furrow skitters across his forehead, but he smooths it over. “My friend Storm is having a small get-together at her house this afternoon. Kind of a celebration for her fiancé, Dan.” He holds his phone up absently. “Just got the text. Anyway . . .” His voice drifts off as his eyes drift down to my mouth. “You should come.”
I give him a pathetic attempt at a smile. “Sure, I’ll think about it.” I’ll think about it as I’m boarding the bus.
Something that looks like disappointment flashes in his eyes and I balk at the swift kick of guilt to my stomach. “Okay, Charlie.” He leans down to brush his lips against my cheek, close to my mouth but not landing there, as if unsure that I would allow it.
I don’t hesitate to turn toward him to steal one last kiss, to try to convey with my body how much he has come to mean to me in a short period of time, how much I wish this could continue.
How much I will miss him.
A powerful arm coils around my waist as he crushes me against his body, matching and raising my level of passion with his own as he dips me back, forcing my mouth wide as his tongue dives in.
Cain doesn’t seem to have any speed except “intense.” Combining that with my own personal turmoil is a disaster waiting to happen. I close my eyes and let myself sink within his strength as I lose myself in him yet again, as the familiar burn begins to course through my body.
At some point, my knees buckle and I find I can’t lift my eyelids. I barely hear the door close as I become weightless within Cain’s arms. The soft cushion of my mattress is like a cloud as Cain lays me down.
“Charlie, where are your sheets?” I hear him ask, but I don’t answer.
They’re packed in my suitcase, which is sitting idly in the corner.
Waiting for me.
A moment later there’s a hand smoothing the hair off my forehead. “Get some sleep.”
“Okay,” I murmur with a sigh, though I’m still fighting against the sweet pull of oblivion that beckons me to relent. I’m supposed to be leaving in a few hours, but I do need sleep. Just a few hours and then I’ll go. “Goodbye, Cain.” I can’t drive anywhere right now . . .
* * *
Someone is pounding on my door.
My body feels like it’s chained to my bed as I drag it up, reluctant to leave the comfort of sleep, even from a bare mattress.
“Charlie! Open up!” It’s Ginger and she sounds frantic. Worry blooming inside me, I stagger out to the front door in a rush, throwing it open without caution.
“You’re alive!” she exclaims, stalking past me, into my apartment. The ties of her colorful bathing-suit top poke out beneath a red-and-white striped sundress. “It’s the fourth time I’ve come by today. I thought you were dead! Go and get ready.”
“What?” I scratch my head absently, picking through my blurry memories. Get ready for what?
“It’s after three o’clock and we’re going to Storm’s.”
After three o’clock? “What?” I don’t believe her. Dashing over to dig my phone out of my purse, I confirm with a rising bubble of panic that she’s not lying. No . . . I need to get to the bank and then sell my car and then . . . leave Miami. I won’t have enough time!
Ginger makes herself comfortable on my couch, remote in hand, twirling a hot-pink strand of hair. And I know that, short of agreeing to go with her, it will take a fire or a forklift to get her to leave. Her eyes drift over the flowers adorning my table. “Those are gorgeous. Who are they from?”
“No one,” I mutter absently as I stagger back to my bedroom and shut the door. Falling back against it with a sigh, I close my eyes. What do I do?
I know that if I could shake Ginger, I could still make it work. I’d just be arriving in a foreign state and town in the middle of the night. I check the burner phone sitting in my purse, a twinge of anxiety stirring that I could have missed a call from Sam.
No missed calls. I release a sigh.
What if . . . could I stay for another day? I mean, is there really any danger in staying for just one more day? I have weeks before I can expect another drop request and Bob couldn’t even get into Penny’s if he wanted to cause me harm before then. And Sam is . . . I have to believe he wouldn’t harm me on a whim or a hunch, even as paranoid as he is. I’m too valuable to him. I’m his unsuspicious pawn.
He’d come down here first. He’d visit me in person, see for himself. I have to believe that. After all, he did raise me. That has to account for something.
My resolve dissipates in seconds, as if it were never there. Or maybe it was, up until last night. The swirling nausea in the pit of my stomach finally relents to a burst of anticipation. Throwing open my suitcase, I quickly root through my clothes for my bathing suit.
Suddenly, I can’t get to Storm’s fast enough.
chapter twenty-five
* * *
CAIN
“Hey, stranger!” Storm greets me at the door, wearing an apron and a beaming grin. “I’m glad you could make it on such short notice.” After claiming a tight hug, she rubs my biceps affectionately. Storm touches me a lot. I don’t welcome the contact from others, but from Storm, I don’t mind. I know it’s a completely platonic gesture and, from her—one of my very best friends—it actually relaxes me.
Surveying her apron—one that reads Warning: Woman Grilling—I pat my stomach and ask, “What’s for dinner?” Feeding people is Storm’s passion and she’s an excellent cook. They’ve joked about installing a revolving door for all the people who pass in and out of their Miami beach house on a regular basis.
“Homemade burgers and lots of other stuff. Enough for a crowd, and there seems to be one quickly growing around here.” There’s a pause and then, “So tell me . . . Are you or aren’t you with this alluring new dancer?”
“Thirty seconds in the door, Storm. And I don’t remember you being a gossip,” I toss back. Inside, my guts are twisting. I don’t know what the hell happened this morning. After what I can only describe as the kind of mind-blowing sex that sated every fiber of
my body and soul in a way that no other woman ever has, Charlie shut me out.
I expected her to gladly accompany me to my place, to my shower, to my bed.
To eagerly continue where we left off.
But the only thing she seemed eager to do was get away from me. She started stumbling over her words, offering weak excuses. Practically begging me to drive her home.
Confusing the hell out of me.
In fairness, she was so exhausted that she practically passed out in my arms and was out cold within a minute of me laying her onto her bed. I know because I sat beside her and watched her drift off, pushing her gorgeous blond hair off her face, worrying that I should wake her up to take those damn contacts out, searching for pricey bedsheets that I couldn’t find.
Still, exhausted or not, something didn’t feel right about the way we left things. Maybe everything I told her started sinking in and she freaked out. Maybe I should have taken her back to my condo instead of letting that happen on the pier. I couldn’t help myself, though.
I lay in bed for hours, analyzing every second, every word that escaped her mouth. Every moan . . .
And I still can’t make sense of it.
God, I hope I see her today.
Ginger promised that she’d do what she could to get Charlie here. Now I guess I’ll just have to wait. And dodge Storm’s interrogation.
“I’m not. I’m a hopeless romantic. There’s a big difference.” She smiles, showing me her perfect white teeth. “And when it comes to the mysterious Cain’s love life, yes, your friends are all extremely interested. I swear, Ben is infatuated. I don’t remember him talking about one girl so much in my life!”
I hand her a gift bag with several bottles of wine, attempting to distract her, as bare feet pad out from the kitchen. “Cain!” Storm’s mini-me barrels into me, her little arms coiling around my waist.
“Mia!” I chuckle to myself as I take a chunk of her golden-blond hair in my hand and give it a playful tug. She stares up at me with those innocent blue eyes, the same ones that pierced my heart the day she looked up and smiled as she toddled around the furniture in my office, enjoying her newfound mobility.
“All right, all right. We’ll talk later . . .” Storm takes the wine with a secretive grin. “The guys are in the cave.” Slipping her arm around Mia’s shoulder, she gently swivels her daughter around and leads her back toward the kitchen. “Come, minion. Those vegetables won’t wash themselves.”
I head down the hall of their palatial Miami beachfront house. Storm moved in here three years ago with Dan, Mia, and their friends—sisters, Kacey and Livie. That was around the same time that Storm quit Penny’s and opened up her own private acrobatics school. The day she came into my office to tell me—her fingers twisting the material of her skirt nervously, as if she wasn’t sure how I’d take the resignation of the most popular dancer at Penny’s—was the happiest day of my life.
Storm is my shining success story. She is why I do what I do.
Ben’s obnoxious voice carries halfway down the hall. “ . . . she was gone when I woke up, though, which sucked because damn, she had the most spectacular—”
“Cock?” I interrupt loudly as I step into the room, slapping Ben’s shoulder as I pass by him. I’m not surprised to find the lot of them with beers in hand, playing video games. It’s how I usually find them, while the women are hanging out on one of the many decks or in another room. Though Storm calls this room Dan’s cave, there’s nothing remotely cave-like about it. Light pours in through the wall-to-ceiling windows and, aside from the tan leather sectional and chestnut-brown cabinetry, everything’s decorated in whites and grays.
“Boss man’s here!” Ben yells as the guys burst out in a round of laughter over my well-timed interruption. “Just giving them the Mexico highlights.”
“Embellished, I’m sure,” I murmur, though I don’t really doubt that every bit of what Ben says is true and happened exactly as described. Sometimes I wonder how his dick hasn’t fallen off yet.
Dan rounds the couch with his large hand outstretched, a genuine smile stretched across his face. “Good to see you here, Cain.”
“Congratulations, again. How’s the head after last night?”
He cringes but then laughs. “Those guys are animals. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you. It’s been a while.”
“I know. Crazy summer . . . Storm’s doing well with the pregnancy so far?”
That light sparks in Dan’s eyes, the one that always does at the mention of Storm. Now that she’s marrying him and carrying his child, it’s like a homing beacon. “Yeah, doing well. Should find out what it is soon.”
“Girl,” Trent—Kacey’s boyfriend and a permanent fixture in the Ryder household—announces with a smirk, adding in a “hey, Cain,” though his focus doesn’t leave the intense one-on-one boxing round with Nate.
“Trent.” I like Trent. I didn’t like him so much when I found out who he really was, when everything about my bartender and Storm’s best friend—Kacey—came to an ugly, explosive head. To this day, I thank God I didn’t feel the need to have a background check done on him. If I had, I would have kicked his ass out of my bar.
And probably beaten him to within an inch of his life.
Dan casually leans over to flick Trent’s ear for that comment before shaking his head. “God help me if it’s another girl. I’m drowning in estrogen.”
“Get a dog,” Nate suggests, followed by a deep shout of “yeah!” as Trent’s player hits the ground in an exaggerated knockout screen shot.
“Why?” Ben snorts. “Storm will just have his balls cut off for humping everything in sight. Then, you’ll still be surrounded by estrogen, plus you’ll be stuck picking up a four-legged eunuch’s shit twice a day for the next ten years.”
Dan shoots a crooked grin his way. “Maybe not. Storm hasn’t had you fixed for humping everything in sight yet, mate.”
Another round of snorts and chuckles fills the room and I’m reminded of how much I’ve missed hanging out with the guys outside of Penny’s. I’ve just let myself get too wrapped up with all things club-related lately.
I need to get a life. Ideally, one that includes Charlie.
“A drink?” Dan offers, already reaching for the bottle of Rémy that he knows I prefer. Normally, I’d never accept any of my friends catering to my expensive taste, but Dan and Storm can easily afford it and Storm won’t have it any other way.
“How’s the club doing these days?” Dan asks as he hands me a filled glass. “Ben told me about the metal detectors. You’ve got more scum coming in, now that Teasers is closed?”
“Yeah . . . it’s an investment, but it’s worth it.” I take a sip of my drink.
He nods his head slowly, a curious look passing over his face, and I wonder where this conversation is headed this time. Conversations with Dan about the club tend to head in one general direction.
His voice lowers to say, “Starting to hear rumblings of someone new in Miami. From up north, bringing in pure street-grade heroin. Not one of these idiot gangbangers who we can usually take down in a few weeks. An organized operation. This could be big. They expect it’ll lead to a turf war with the cartel.” Dan studies me closely with his next question. “You haven’t seen or heard anything?”
This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. I’m not the only one who had a background check done. After Storm quit Penny’s, she admitted to me that Detective Dan had made inquiries and pulled some favors, suspicious of me. It didn’t take him long to dig up my past. I may have—miraculously—avoided a criminal record for my own crimes, but I’m still tied to an ugly paper trail as it relates to my parents.
I was only involved in the drug and prostitution scene by relation. I guess good ol’ Daddy didn’t think mixing me up with that side of the family business was a smart move, when he could make so much money off my fighting. Dan’s not stupid, though. He’s seen his share of that world. He knows it’s not bu
ilt in silos—separating the dealers from the pimps from the thieves from the murderers. He knows that I’ve made all kinds of connections, whether I meant to or not. Hell, I still get approached by bookies once in a while for a big-ticket fight. Ten years later, all the way in Miami! And then there’s the fact that I’m in the business that I’m in, where I’m constantly approached with illicit propositions.
Dan knows I could find out, if I wanted to get involved. If I wanted to risk being labeled a police informant, basically painting a target on my chest and putting everyone around me at risk.
“I haven’t heard a thing, Dan. And you know those scumbags are not coming anywhere near Penny’s. That’s why I have the security that I do. That’s why I’m selective with who I hire.”
Dan nods his head once. “I know, Cain. But I told the guys I’d ask, anyway.” With a heavy exhale, he quickly changes the topic, his tone lightening up. “So, tell me about this new dancer at Penny’s.”
“The one that’s got Cain choking the chicken in his office every night?” Ben hollers, while furiously clicking keys to pummel Nate’s player in the face. “Uh-oh. Look! He’s pitching a tent already. ”
“Fuck off, Morris,” I throw back with an annoyed chuckle. “I’m not . . .” I close my eyes and heave a sigh. There’s no point defending myself. We’re not at Penny’s. That means the gloves are off and the jackass is just getting warmed up. Thank God he doesn’t know about last night.
“That’s how it’s done!” Ben shouts, tossing the controller at Nate’s broad chest. “I mean, seriously, Cain . . .” Ben now turns to give me his undivided attention, shaking his head. “Such a travesty. You don’t deserve to own a club. Fuck, you don’t deserve to own a dick!”
I know Ben’s just shooting his mouth off for entertainment purposes. We’ve had more than a few frank drunken-Ben conversations in the past, where he expressed his undying admiration for me for not taking advantage of my position.
Still, I toss a glare at Dan, who can’t keep the smirk off his face. “Thanks, man, for bringing her up.”
