by Anne Conley
“He’s part of my past, Quinten. And I’m ready for my future.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” This was weird. Her brother, the holier-than-thou Quinten, never apologized. Lots of people worshiped at his feet, but she knew him. He wasn’t perfect.
“For Zack. The way I’ve been about him. I know you’re grown, and I haven’t given you much of a chance to make your own mistakes, and I’m sorry about that. The protective side of me wants to dictate everything. Zack included.” His jaw ticked, and she saw how hard it had been to make that apology.
“Valerie’s been nagging you, hasn’t she?”
Quinten flashed a wry grin. “Maybe.”
“Well, thank you. Apology accepted.”
With that, Bonnie grabbed her purse and strode out the door, leaving Quinten in her kitchen as she flashed him a carefree “See you later.” She was sure he would lock everything up tightly and set her alarms before he left.
She was going to South by Southwest.
Chapter Three
Fucking Andrew. Zack was going to kill the sack of shit for this. Here he was, doing what he’d been told— meeting a fucking client, for Christ’s sakes— at South by Southwest, the largest musical festival in the free world.
And he had a boner the size of Alaska.
And he was still in a fuck-ton of pain.
Yeah, not only had Quinten kicked his ass on the mat today, but then Andrew had given him the wrong little blue pill. Instead of Aleve, the asshole had given him fucking Viagra.
Son of a bitch had probably done it on purpose, too. No wonder Zack had never found the guy funny. His sense of humor was totally warped.
Zack was at one concert, in the midst of two thousand other concerts on Sixth Street and the surrounding areas in Austin, and he kept bumping into people with his dick.
Wonderful.
The kicker was, he’d known a guy on the force who’d taken Viagra regularly, and Zack knew the boners weren’t typically perpetual. There was supposed to be some sort of stimulation involved. Not Zack’s. No stimulation necessary. What the ever-loving-fuck? Why did he have to be the medical anomaly?
Dude was pissed and kept stalking around his head, doing his best impression of The Rock, holding his .50 caliber with one arm while looking around fruitlessly for a target.
The music was some ridiculous techno shit, more of a light show than anything requiring musical talent, and that was fucking with his visuals on a whole other level. Zack was legally blind, but could see lights and bright colors, so the laser show accompanying this madness seeped through his sunglasses and messed with his equilibrium.
“Let’s get closer to the meeting spot and we can have a drink. It’s not for two hours, anyway.” Ryan was yelling into his ear over the noise. “Besides, this shit sucks.”
“Absolutely,” Zack agreed.
Thank God Ryan wasn’t bringing up the unfortunate boner. Surely he’d noticed; Ryan noticed everything. But the bro code was insistent that one man didn’t talk about another man’s junk. Thank fuck.
“Scuse me … Scuse me …” It was like trying to break through an immovable wall, and he finally gave up, pulling his fold-up cane from his pocket and extending it. That always parted the seas of people, and since he wasn’t trying to score some pussy tonight, he didn’t need to pretend he wasn’t blind.
Yeah, it was better to pretend he wasn’t impaired if he was trying to score something meaningless because as soon as chicks found out he was blind, one of two things happened. One, they wanted to spend the rest of his days taking care of him, or two, they dumped him like yesterday’s trash. Neither one of those options appealed to him. And meaningless was all he really seemed capable of, anyway.
“Wow, you’re a lifesaver. I need to get me one of those,” Ryan said about Zack’s cane. Zack grunted, his typical response when a non-handicapped person coveted one of his implements. What the fuck do you say? Yeah, it totally sucks to not see, but look at my cool cane! Right. He knew Ryan was joking, but still. Zack was in a shitty mood.
Outside, the music wasn’t as loud, but it came from more directions. He leaned against the wall, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings.
How long did Viagra boners last?
“You okay?” Ryan’s voice was solicitous, not pushy, and Zack appreciated it. Ryan would have his back if he needed it, but he wouldn’t coddle him.
“Yeah, man. I just need to take a minute. My internal compass is fucked with all these lights and shit.”
“Where’s Shania? Would she help here?” Ryan, like the other guys, had taken to Shania. Zack been nervous about the way the guys would take to a service dog in the office, but Ryan was obviously a dog person. Zack had to give him a talking to about how she was working when her harness was on, versus being able to play and receive pets when the harness was off.
“No. It’s too noisy for me to give her commands. And all the people would pet her and shit. I wouldn’t be able to walk down the street with her without five hundred people stopping to pet her. It’s distracting for both of us, and she wouldn’t be able to do anything for me.”
The overpowering smell of garlic and oregano hit his nostrils. Now, he wasn’t one of those blind people with super senses, but he’d noticed a sharpening of his other four senses since his sight had begun failing almost two years ago. And he was certainly more sensitive to smells. Especially rotten manicotti like this poor bastard was sporting.
Manicotti Man had evidently leaned against the wall Zack and Ryan were occupying because the smell settled, and Zack could feel it seeping into his pores, growing tentacles and taking root.
“You with those Pierce guys?” a phlegmy voice enquired, entirely too close to his ear.
And that raised a big fat alarm. It wasn’t like they were a top-secret organization or anything, but the nature of the work dictated they didn’t wear Pierce Securities t-shirts and ball caps.
“Who?”
“Must be my mistake. You sorta looked like a couple of the guys for a minute there.”
Zack adjusted his sunglasses, a habitual gesture when he was nervous, and pushed off the wall. “Sorry to disappoint. Catch ya later.” To Ryan, he said, “Let’s book.” Folding up his cane, he made his way down the block, anxious to get away from the odor as much as the creepy, sweaty man.
They’d walked a little ways when Ryan broke the silence. “So what’s the story with you and the bosses’ sister?”
“Why do you ask?” That was out of left field. Zack had tried not to think about Bonnie since he’d seen her at the masquerade thing. Not that telling himself he wasn’t thinking of her wasn’t actually thinking about her.
“I don’t know. I can tell there’s something there, and we’ve got time. I was just making conversation.”
Zack couldn’t hear deception in Ryan’s voice, and nothing the guy had ever done pointed to him setting a trap, so Zack just went with honesty.
“We dated in high school. In fact, Quinten used to be my friend when we were kids, too.” He spoke carefully, trying to be aware of his surroundings so he didn’t fall. “She was my first love, and I fucked it up, but I sort of just want to see what she’s up to now. That’s why I’m always asking about her. Besides, it riles the guys up so much, I just can’t help myself.”
That was only a partial lie. He did enjoy riling up the Pierce brothers, always had. But he felt awful about what he’d done to Bonnie and desperately wanted to make it up to her somehow. Truth was, he thought he still had feelings for her but had no idea what to do about that.
“You think that might be why Quinten kicked your ass so hard today?” Ryan was chuckling now, and Zack embraced it.
“Without a doubt. But he’s got to know I don’t have a chance with her. So why get so twisted, you know?” He wondered again, for like, the jillionth time, why she’d just walked away last time he’d seen her. They hadn’t even swapped numbers. She just acted like he was some fling to dispose
of.
And that stung more than he cared to admit.
“Why don’t you think you have a chance with her?” Ryan’s guilelessness was refreshing, even if he didn’t know half the story. Which he wasn’t spilling. Not tonight.
Suddenly uncomfortable, Zack lashed out at his friend. “When did you grow a pussy?”
“Never fucking mind then.” The chuckle was still in Ryan’s voice, so Zack was safe. For now.
Bonnie Pierce had been his since they were all kids. She just never realized it. Then the Pierce brothers had gone off to do their thing, Bonnie had gone off to college, and he’d gone blind.
Zack and Quinten used to be best friends. He didn’t know when it had all fallen apart on them. Maybe when Quinten’s dad had died? Or was it when Quinten had realized the depth of Zack’s feelings for Bonnie? Or was it when Zack had purposely broken Bonnie’s heart so she wouldn’t be saddled with less of a man the rest of her life? Or maybe it was something totally different. Once again, he wondered if she’d told Quinten what had transpired at the charity event. He had no idea.
Zack indulged in a quick memory of Bonnie, pushing aside the vision of Dude smirking at him with an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Instead, he and Bonnie were canoeing on Lake Travis, something they’d done a lot the summer before her senior year of high school. They hadn’t gotten intimate yet, but he’d wanted to and was just waiting for her to let him know she wanted it, too.
The sun reflected off her hair just so, giving her dark-brown curls a reddish tinge around her smiling face. The red triangles of her bikini top were barely big enough to cover anything, and all her curves were on display. They’d laughed so hard that day, with Bonnie trying to steer but never really doing much besides pushing them in circles. Zack would probably have gotten hard at the memory, but thanks to Andrew, he already was.
The memory was a nice one, but it still shrank something inside him, like all the memories of Bonnie. He missed her badly, and Simon and Quinten’s refusal to let him see her, or even talk about her, was killing him.
They were making their way into a blues bar when Ryan broke into his memories, thankfully. “So how did you guys figure this was a human trafficking thing?”
“Well, they all fit the pattern. When we talked to the parents, most of them either didn’t care their kid was gone, or they’d been in a troubled relationship. A lot of the girls were talking about this older guy, a nice-looking clean-cut dude who promised to make their lives better. It’s a classic pattern.” Teenagers were always looking for the greener grass. Teenaged girls sought drama. If they could run away with a man who would make their parents sorry, even better. Whoever this guy was, he was capitalizing on that.
“Do you have a description of the other guy?”
“Not really. None of the parents saw him, if they cared to look. We don’t even have a name.”
“So we need to find Macy.”
“Yeah.” Macy was the first one the Pierce Securities guys had been assigned. Once they started getting some cooperation with Hollerman on the force, they’d realized there was a spike in the number of young runaway girls in the last month. It was a blessing she actually thought she could run away with this guy and still stay in contact with her boyfriend. It gave them clues.
He really had to do right by this girl, or she was likely to be sold into something foul. He had to find her despite the obstacles in his way—his lack of vision, the random erection in his pants, all the fucking lights.
And Manicotti Man. The dude stank, but still, something about him was wrong. There was no reason for him to approach Zack like that.
A woman with a sexy, throaty voice was singing a John Lee Hooker cover, which was pretty cool. He closed his eyes behind his shades and succumbed to the fantasy of her whispering dirty words in his ear.
Yeah.
This was what he needed.
That brought to mind all sorts of other memories of Bonnie, but Dude— wearing a tight t-shirt with the word “security” across the front—managed to kindly bounce her out of Zack’s thoughts. He politely ushered her tight curves and dark curls into a room and closed the door, locking it and tossing the key carelessly over his shoulder.
Exactly how he had dealt with her then, and since, until Zack seen her at the masquerade party. Where she’d done the same thing to him.
The faceless singer had a head full of rusty-colored tresses in his mind, and they snuggled together in some silk sheets he manifested in his head. Yeah. This was good. Bonnie was gone and singer lady was here.
“Krista would really like this. She digs this sort of music,” Ryan said thoughtfully.
“She should work with us. She could do the honeypot cases.” Zack, grinning with anticipation, knew exactly what Ryan’s reaction would be.
“Fuck no. She’s fine where she is. I couldn’t stand it if she put herself in danger on purpose just to work with me.” His voice was a gritty growl, and Zack slapped his back.
“I know, man. I was kidding.”
Still angry, Ryan kept growling at him. “Dude. Stop fucking bumping me with your dick. Get that shit under control. I have no idea what your problem is. We’re not at Hippy fucking Hollow.”
Zack’s face straightened instantly. “Fine. Sorry.” Hippy Hollow was a fun nude beach on the lake in the sixties, or so he’d heard. In recent years, it had turned into one of the more outlandish places in Austin, where men and women of all orientations could be as free and as naked as they liked. “Let’s just chill for a minute. We need to get our game faces on.”
The perma-erection didn’t make him horny per se, although the increased blood flow was making him hyper-aware of things going on down there, which, in turn, was a huge distraction. Coupled with the woman’s voice, it was lending itself to some serious fantasy world-type shit, and now really wasn’t the time.
But he could take five minutes to indulge. Honestly, he already had the boner, right? Might as well.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Zack leaned his head back against the wall, allowing the woman’s husky voice to wash over him. In his mind, it was exactly like liquid sex, her voice hoarse from screaming after the incredible orgasm he imagined giving her.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t had sex like that in a while.
Sure, he’d had sex, but nothing like what he wanted. He wanted a connection. A symbiotic experience, not the one-sided, first you-then me that had seemed to be the mantra of his love life lately.
He wanted a woman in bed with him who explored him as much as he explored her, who was interested in his pleasure, too, and would respond to him on a visceral level. Someone to connect with. But it hadn’t happened. Every woman he’d ever been with besides Bonnie had been meaningless to him. But not having Bonnie was his own damn fault. He’d done that and couldn’t be a pussy and cry about it. Besides, it was years ago; he’d moved on, right? She certainly had, just like he’d planned.
But they had definitely connected six months ago.
Holy hell. This was a bad idea. He had no business thinking about Bonnie Pierce now. Zack had a job to do.
The pungent smell of garlic and body odor was coming back, and Zack pushed himself away from the wall to go deeper into the club. Manicotti Man was following them. It normally wouldn’t have been a big deal, except there was a menace to his voice when he’d spoken earlier, and there were just too many unknown variables in this setting. About two million of them.
Out of the side of his mouth, he warned Ryan, “Manicotti Man is back.” Zack started moving, leading Ryan away from the scent. Without his cane, it was a series of muttered “Scuse mes” and “Sorries” but he managed to find a hallway.
“Zack?”
Christ on a stick. Had he conjured her? He couldn’t deal with her right now. He had to get rid of Manicotti Man, find his contact, get the girl, and get the hell out of what was quickly turning into a clusterfuck.
Plus, he didn’t know how the hell to explain his ha
rd-on.
He ignored the familiar voice and kept walking.
Chapter Four
Motherfucker was ignoring her. She had to admit, after Quinten’s declaration that Zack would be here, she’d kept half an eye out for him. But Bonnie hadn’t been prepared for the level of melancholy that bubbled up when she’d seen him. And for him to ignore her was irritating.
“Zack Ward!” she shouted, desperate for him to hear her, to see her. She had a thing or two to say to him now that she was all grown up and had gotten over everything.
Yeah. Right. She was obviously over it with the way her insides twisted when she saw him.
Bonnie buried her pain. It was a long time ago, and they’d sort of made out since then. She’d told herself it was over now. She’d gotten back at him—using Zack and disappearing—to make up for his betrayal years ago.
But seeing him again warped her insides into something she couldn’t recognize, and she longed for normalcy between them again, but Zack had taken off down this hallway like his pants were on fire.
Bonnie wanted to express condolences for his father’s death. That was the polite thing to do and would open the door between them for a dialogue.
If he would talk to her.
“Zack!”
The way he’d reacted to her voice was uncanny. After she’d shouted his name the last time, his shoulders slumped at the recognition, and he spun on his heels, stalking a beeline for her. She had followed him down the hallway he was ducking into, but when he cornered her against the wall, everything came back.
His cologne. He still wore it, just not as much. The spicy scent didn’t mask his natural smell—earthy, musky, male. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and his dirty-blond hair sported slightly pink ends, as if he’d recently had a dye job which had grown out. But his body was way different.
Zack Ward used to be a sweet boy. But now, as he muscled her against the wall with a hand over her mouth, she could feel the danger he’d grown into. Bonnie tried not to react, to school her body, but her insides warmed with his steely flesh pressing into hers, and a wetness pooled inside her panties in spite of herself.
