“Not by choice. Brandon recruited Dash’s father as a client. Then he tricked both men into a signing together. He made a splash with the press so they couldn’t back out of the event, which was for a charity. The two of them together went very badly. The confrontation was inevitable, and that connected to a highly personal loss the two share, which drove Dash over the edge. Dash has an addiction, not a conventional one, but an addiction. One he promised me was over.”
“That’s not how addiction works,” Mark points out. “Not a true addiction.”
“I know. But he made it seem as if he fell off the wagon, so to speak, but it was under control. I don’t believe that now. He pushed me away the minute this fight with his father happened. And of course, I know why.”
“He needs his high,” he supplies.
“Yes. And this could destroy his career. And he’s going to act on this need of his now, tonight, while his father and Brandon are watching. I need to find him before they do.”
“What is the addiction?”
“Fighting. Underground fighting. Illegal fighting. There’s a place in Nashville I know he’s been to, but I don’t think he’ll leave the city before indulging in that high. He needs it too badly. He has film deals and a TV show in negotiation. If he ends up in the press over this—”
“It won’t kill the deal,” he assures me. “In fact, it will bring attention to the movies and the books. But that doesn’t mean it won’t kill him.” He picks up his phone from the table. “Lucky for you, I have the right people around me to get you the answers you need.” He stands and walks away.
I grab my phone and check for a message from Dash or Tyler, but there is nothing. I text Dash: Please call me. If you care about me even a little bit, you will call me.
My cellphone rings and I glance at the caller ID. It’s an unknown caller and I know that means Neil. I decline the call and text Dash: I’m not going back to Nashville, Dash. Not now and maybe not ever. So tell Neil to stop contacting me.
He doesn’t answer. I try to call him. It goes to voicemail. His phone is off. And I know why. He doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t want to be stopped.
My phone buzzes with a text message and my heart leaps with the hope that it’s Dash. It’s not. It’s Tyler: No luck yet. Still working.
My lashes lower on a sigh, and a complete utter feeling of defeat. I can’t save him. Because he doesn’t want to be saved.
CHAPTER THREE
Mark leaves me at the table so long that I down my coffee and head to the bathroom, which is large and offers me the privacy to pace. And so, I do. I walk into the one-person bathroom and start pacing. It’s a four-step pace and turn, but it helps. After I’ve done about twenty laps, I wash up, freshen up, and check my phone for the hundredth time. With a deep breath, I exit the bathroom to find Mark and another man waiting on me.
My heart thunders in my chest with the certainty something is wrong. I step to the table and slide uneasily into my chair. The newcomer is blond, with ink down his arms and piercing blue eyes.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” he says. “You look like I’m your worst nightmare. You don’t like ink?”
“Oh God no. I mean, yes. I mean—”
To my shock, Mark laughs. Mark never laughs. I didn’t even know he was capable of laughter. “This is Lucifer, Allie. He works for Walker Security.”
Walker Security is the company that runs Riptide’s security, but their reach is far and wide, worldwide in fact, and their skillset is far beyond what they do for us.
“Lucifer is more than a little comfortable in the underground boxing clubs. Which I know because I bet on a few of his fights. Now you know something dirty that you can hold against us if we burn you.”
I perk up. “Do you know Dash?”
“I do know Dash,” he says.
My heart sinks. “So, he’s been fighting? Often?”
“Not here. Not for a long time. Not since all of his success.”
Until me, I think, and a part of me wonders if I’m not the problem. If I don’t need to just go away. But even if I am the issue, not his father, and this time I do think it’s his father, he’s neck-deep in trouble now, tonight. I have to pull him out of the quicksand before I can walk away.
“And I’m going to piss him the fuck off if I take you to him,” Lucifer adds.
“Oh,” I say, my gaze jerking to his. “Oh okay. I just—can you—”
“Take you to him?” he asks. “Sure. I don’t care much who I piss off unless they’re a client of Walker Security. Your boss just happens to be a client of Walker Security.” He leans closer and whispers, “Not that I really care if I piss him off either.” He glances at his watch. “It’s seven o’clock. The first fight will be at eleven.”
“Are you fighting tonight?”
“Not tonight,” he says. “I have a job in progress. I keep my play out of my day, if you know what I mean.”
“Then you can’t do this.”
“I’m a client,” Mark replies. “I’ll pay Walker to do this for you.”
My eyes go to Mark’s. “You’d do that?”
“Of course, I would. I am.”
“Nah,” Lucifer says. “I’ll do it for free, but there’s no way I’m taking you there to the club. It’s not the place for a lady. Here’s how this plays out. You go home. If Dash is on the card—which I won’t know until my inside man calls me back—I’ll send a car for you. That car will pull up to the front door. I’ll ‘bump’ into you at the front door and you’ll beg for my help finding Dash. Make it loud. Make it obvious.”
“And then?” I ask.
“Then I blow you off, but not really. I’ll tell Dash some chick is upfront trying to see him. He’ll freak, of course, and I’ll follow him up front. Just so I can be there if someone causes trouble. You and Dash can then do your thing, whatever that ends up meaning. Cool?”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, thank you, Lucifer.” I glance at Mark. “Thank you.”
He gives me a barely perceivable nod.
“Will you be there?” I ask.
“Yes, and that’s part of the plan. I’ll be the way you made it to the club.”
“He’ll be furious with you,” I say. “And if we do work things out, I don’t want him to hate my boss. Isn’t there another way?” I don’t give him time to answer. “Actually, there is. He already hates Tyler Hawk. And Tyler knows about his fighting. Tyler told me where the club is located in Nashville. It would be believable that he tracked down this one as well, though, in truth, he tried and failed.”
“No to that,” Mark states, his tone absolute. “While Lucifer is inside, someone has to be outside, in case you need help. That means me.”
“Jacob can go,” Lucifer offers. “I already talked to him. He’s on standby. He eyes Mark. “That keeps Mark out of the mix and since Jacob oversees the security team at Riptide,” Lucifer adds, glancing at me, “it would be easy to have assumed you’d go to him for help. He’ll be the fall guy and no one hates anyone. If everyone agrees, I’ll get to work.”
“Agreed,” Mark states.
“Agreed,” I say as well.
“Good,” Lucifer says. “Go home, Allie.” He slaps his hands down on the table. “More soon.”
Mark lifts a finger in my direction, “My car is outside. The driver’s been instructed to take you home. He’ll also be the one picking you up should Dash show up at the club.”
In other words, I’m dismissed but I’m pretty alright with that right about now. I need to think and process on my own before I see Dash tonight. And I will. He’ll be at that club. I feel it in my bones. “Thank you both. I know I’ve said that, but I mean it.” I glance at Mark. “I owe you for this.”
“Your loyalty is my price, Ms. Wright. And I’m aware that Dash makes that complicated, but I’m a forward-thinking man. I do believe we can find a working solution for all. Go home and drink a glass of wine. You have time to use its influence to calm down, but n
ot fall down.”
It almost sounds like a joke, but Mark Compton doesn’t tell jokes. Does he?
I decide he does not.
I push to my feet, offer both men small nods, and walk toward the door. A few minutes later, I’m in the hired SUV, and a man I’ve seen with Jacob a time or two greets me. He’s dark, Hispanic, I think, and good-looking, with a friendly disposition. “I’m Adrian. Your guardian angel.”
“You work for Walker,” I assume.
“Bingo.” He pulls us onto the road. “Speaking of bingo. How do you get five sweet, kind, angelic, Christian old ladies at the community center to swear like sailors?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“It’s a joke. What’s the punchline?”
“Ah, tell them there’s no more chocolate?”
He laughs, low and masculine, and says, “No, but that would probably work. The answer is, have a sixth one shout, ‘Bingo!’”
I surprise myself and laugh. “Thanks for that.”
“Well, hopefully, a ride and a smile are all you need tonight but just in case there’s more, put my number in your phone.”
I pull out my phone and by the time I’m in front of my building, I’ve stored his number, Lucifer’s, and Jacob’s. “Now go try to relax. Hopefully, Dash won’t go to the fight night and you won’t see me again, unless it’s at Riptide.”
“Thanks, Adrian,” I say sincerely, appreciating all Mark and Walker are doing for me and Dash, even if Dash doesn’t appreciate their efforts as I do.
Exiting the vehicle, I huddle into myself and my coat as I run through the night that is far more bitter cold than just the weather, and enter my building. Once I’m at my door, my heart sinks and I realize some part of me hoped Dash would be here waiting. Silly girl. Tricks are for kids. I enter my apartment and glance at my watch. I have hours here to fret before any news will follow. I shiver with the low temperature of my apartment and turn up the heat. With my coat still on, I walk to the kitchen, fill a glass with wine, and read the message I sent to Dash. I’m not going back to Nashville, Dash. Not now and maybe not ever. So tell Neil to stop contacting me.
Neil hasn’t contacted me again. God, maybe he read the message. Maybe he just wants me to go away and instead I’m riding in with the cavalry to save him. I down the wine and pour another glass. I don’t even care just how badly me and more wine mix.
CHAPTER FOUR
Neil does, in fact, call.
After my relief that Dash has not blown me off completely over my message, I check myself. Dash may not have even seen that message. He could be that disconnected, with only one love right now, and it’s not me. It’s fighting. I don’t answer any of Neil’s attempts to communicate. There’s really no point. I’m not going to the airport. I’m not going anywhere until I hear from Lucifer.
I wait for his call as time ticks by with such excruciating slowness. Trying to stay busy, I change into a casual skirt, boots, and a warm sweater, all of which I’d left here in my closet, in my apartment. Unfortunately, I have no tights left here that are not ripped so my thigh highs are all I have to keep me warm. This brings me to the dilemma of all my personal items that are still in Dash’s hotel room, and back in his apartment in Nashville, which was never really mine—I know that now—is a real one. I debate going to the hotel now, when he’s gone, when the retrieval of my things would be far less sticky. But then I check myself yet again. I don’t know Dash isn’t in his room. I know he doesn’t want me in his room. After all, he didn’t say, “Go to the room, Allie.” He said, “Go home.” With this painful thought in mind, I inventory my closet and my kitchen, and decide a good way to kill the wait will be a run to the store for basics like coffee, creamer, shampoo, conditioner, and so on.
I do just that and while it keeps me busy, it’s a painful dose of reality. I need these things, I think, filling my shopping bag because these things are for my apartment, which is my home again.
No.
It was always my home. I was just visiting elsewhere.
I’ll fly to Nashville for the critical coordination of the auction, and for Thanksgiving and Christmas, as well. Of course, there is the auction that Dash will be at and I’ll have to attend, but I’ll stay busy and far away from him.
All of these decisions are made by the time I walk back into my apartment. I unpack my bags with at least an hour left until I will hear something about the fight lineup for the night. I down the last of glass number four of my wine, my mind going back to the cocktail party. To that moment after Brandon had cornered me. When Dash had pulled me into a quiet place, just me and him, the rest of the world shut out. I squeeze my eyes shut and I’m there again.
Dash slides one hand between my shoulder blades and molds me close, and the other holds my head. “Do not be embarrassed with me, Allie. God, woman, I love you so fucking much you don’t ever have to be embarrassed.”
I blink, stunned, all kinds of crazy emotions flooding my entire body. “You love me?”
He tilts my head back, looks into my eyes, and says, “So fucking much and I don’t want you to go back to New York.” His mouth closes down on mine in a kiss I feel to my toes, a kiss that is so much more than a kiss. It’s passion, it’s friendship, it’s love.
“I love you, too,” I whisper, when his lips part mine. “And I want to stay with you.”
He strokes my hair from my eyes and says, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Can you?”
“Hell yeah, baby.” He closes his hand around mine and leads me to the door.
My phone buzzes with yet another message from Neil, which I ignore. Right now, reality hurls rocks at me. Dash saved me from Brandon. Now it’s my turn to save him from Brandon. No matter what the cost to me. Most likely that cost will be my relationship with Dash, but I’m pretty sure I’ve already paid that price. And I’m not sure what we had was as real as that moment he confessed his love made it feel to me anyway. Of course, whatever I do won’t cost me my job. I owe Mark now, and in a big way for all he’s done tonight, but he’s apparently a reasonable man under all his arrogance and demand.
My cellphone rings and my heart leaps as I reach for it, anxious for something, anything but my empty apartment and a bottle of wine that I’m drinking alone.
Disappointment jabs at me as the caller ID reads Tyler’s number. “Hi,” I answer, aware that I owe him an update.
“Tell me you’ve heard from him.”
“No,” I say, “but my boss at Riptide is a little more connected to that world than I imagined. He’s helping me.”
“You told him? Damn it, woman—”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I trust him. And he gave me a little dirt on himself for reassurance that he won’t hurt Dash. I’ve got this. I’ve got Dash, too. I’ll save him from himself and he’ll hate me after. But I’ll save him, Tyler.”
“If he hates you for saving him, you’re better off without him. But whatever you do, it needs to be low-profile.”
“I know. I’ve got it handled. I have a plan.” And because I know that won’t be enough for the man aiding in the management of Dash’s career, I spend the next ten minutes sharing details about Walker, Lucifer, and Mark’s role in all of this.
“This is a good plan,” Tyler assures me. “It’s the best possible plan under these circumstances. And the very fact that you just happened to have someone in your path that is also in Dash’s path, says there’s a bit of fate at hand right now.”
“You don’t strike me as a man who believes in fate, Tyler.”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, but there’s one thing I want you to know. I’m on his side, Allie. And yours.” He disconnects.
I reach for the bottle of wine but my phone buzzes with a text. I abandon the wine to read a message from Lucifer: I just got word from my inside man. Dash is scheduled to fight tonight. I’m sending Adrian to pick you up.
CHAPTER FIVE
Adrian is waiting fo
r me outside the SUV, greeting me by opening the back passenger door. I slide inside, stunned to find Mark already present. The minute the door is shut, I whirl on him, and as illogical as my fear is, considering I’m all but ensuring Dash and I are over with our plan tonight, I demand, “What are you doing here? Dash will hate you. I can’t do this like this.”
“Glad to know you’re concerned for your future with Riptide, Ms. Wright, but I’ve discussed how this goes down with Lucifer in more detail. You and Dash having a blow-up at the front of the club entrance is not a smart idea. That means we need another plan to get you inside. Since I’m a big gambler, it comes with perks. I can get you in through the private fighters’ entrance. Dash has his own dressing room. You can talk to him there. Let the blow-up happen there.”
“Dash will hate you,” I reply and turn away from him.
“He doesn’t have to know I’m involved. I’ll get you in and I’ll stay outside. But if he finds out I’m involved and hates me because I helped you get to him, then he’s blind and stupid and no better than the ex who created this problem.”
I don’t know if he’s right or wrong. I’m not feeling all that logical right now. Emotions don’t breed common sense.
Adrian climbs into the front seat of the SUV and the car begins to move. I sink back against the cushion in acceptance. This is going to happen. There’s no way around it. We’ve been driving all of thirty seconds when I turn and face Mark again. “Stay in the vehicle. I’ll tell him I went to the security team from Riptide on my own.”
“I can’t stay in the car and get you into the facility.”
Right, I think. He said that. I know that. “Just please stay as low-profile as possible,” I reply. “If he doesn’t see you, he’ll be too angry to know who got me into the club or to care. At least tonight. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I can’t even think about that right now.”
“I’ll go back to the vehicle as soon as you go into his dressing room.”
“Okay,” I say. “Yes. That works.” I sink back into my seat and watch the bright New York City lights go by without actually seeing them. You’re doing the right thing, Allie, I tell myself, and do so on repeat, but my heart races, and my palms grow clammy.
When I Say Yes Page 2
