by Cassie Wild
Ten minutes later, Celeste was gone.
I didn’t know if she’d be back.
It was the first time I’d ever considered that possibility, and I held in my hand the fattest tip she’d ever given me. Four hundred dollars. I was keeping every damn penny of it. I’d slip an extra twenty into the day’s take and say that was all she’d given me – she was pissed about the advice I’d given her or something.
That would explain why she didn’t return – if she didn’t.
She was also my last client of the day, unless I wanted to wait around for walk-ins. I didn’t, not really, but I wasn’t going to close up shop in case some last-minute unicorn showed up to save Tamara from me.
Pulling out my laptop, I sat down on the couch with my legs crossed and a cup of instant cappuccino steaming next to me. Screw the tea leaves. I’d take a jolt of caffeine and sugar any day of the week.
As I waited for the laptop to boot up, I took a sip of vanilla-flavored instant and sighed. I slid the door a look, but it stayed determinedly shut.
Where were all the rich assholes when you needed them?
Once the Google page loaded, I knew I couldn’t procrastinate any longer, and I began to research. I had a notepad next to me, and as I started to dig around in Tamara’s past, I made notes.
The brother’s disappearance was easy enough to dig up.
A little kid going missing from his bed always made the news. Tamara had unknowingly already given me important clue. I knew his estimated birthday and that he would have been forty-one, so tracking him down was child’s play. I’d always had a mind like a steel trap, and recalling the details she told me, I plugged more and more into the computer until I had a near complete historical background from one Tamara Robson – and her brother, gone too soon, a Philip Robson.
His picture showed a sweet-looking kid with an oddly familiar-looking smile. It didn’t seem to be Tamara’s smile, but pictures could be deceptive, especially those belonging to children. The grainy image didn’t show the color of his eyes, but they seemed to be pale. He would have been a blond if the light-colored curls in the image were anything to go by.
“What happened to you?” I murmured.
I started a search on the boy, but it revealed nothing more than what I expected.
Rewards offered, a few more articles written after his disappearance, and a follow-up on his birthday several years later. Somebody had tried to keep the interest going in the case, but it seemed like the cops had given up hope.
How did somebody give up hope on a little kid? But logically, I knew somehow, it had to happen. Kids disappeared all the time. People disappeared all the time. It just happened.
Feeling depressed, I backed out of the search and started to focus on Tamara.
She was the job, after all.
The possibility of finding anything on her brother wasn’t even a long-shot at this point.
It was an impossibility.
“You’re about to con her out of money. Don’t pretend that trying to find a happy ever after makes much of a difference,” I muttered to myself.
Tamara Robson was apparently a common name. I sighed and backed out of that search, deciding to take a different tactic. I went to a record’s search website. I had a good idea of her date of birth – at least the birth month and year, so I started skimming those records until I found a few that seemed reliable.
I had it narrowed down to a few and noted those DOBs down on my notepad before going back to a general search. Narrowing it down to the Tamara Robsons who lived in LA County, I managed to find her in a just a matter of minutes.
The third date of birth I’d noted was spot on.
The pictures were definitely my Tamara.
And she hadn’t locked down her Facebook profile.
“Oh, honey,” I murmured, feeling a little sad for her. Somebody needed to tell her to get on that quick. I doubted it should be me, because that would let her know I’d be online looking for information on her, but she really shouldn’t be out there with her profile public and for all the world to see.
I was about ready to click away when the pictures caught my eye.
Actually, it was a specific picture.
I clicked on it, dread curling in my gut.
Oh, no.
A familiar face with a familiar smile stared at me from the monitor of my computer. “No, no, no, no. Just…no,” I said, shaking my head. I flexed my hands over the keyboard, resisting the urge to just close the window and pretend I hadn’t seen what I’d seen.
“This isn’t happening,” I whispered. No way in hell. How could it be happening?
Out of the millions of people in LA, was I really about to con somebody I had a connection with?
“No,” I said again, but it was weaker this time.
Weaker, pathetic. After all, that face looking back at mine wasn’t lying.
It was Kian’s.
The man I’d slept with just a few days ago.
The sexy, blue-eyed blond who’d managed to rock my world for a couple of hours.
And according to the comment under the picture? He was Tamara Robson’s son.
Hours later, the money I’d gotten from Celeste tucked away, I lay on my bed, brooding.
I felt split in two.
It was never a good idea to run a con on somebody you had a connection with. That was just common sense.
But at the same time, how likely was he to find out?
He wasn’t.
And, also at the same time, how much of a choice did I have?
I’d heard Papa talking to Joelle earlier, telling her to stop looking so glum. She was going to be a member of one of the most powerful families soon, she should be happy, yes?
I’d wanted to punch him.
And just when was soon?
I had no idea, but he wouldn’t be saying soon if they were planning a long engagement.
It could be next month, it could be next weekend.
Okay, next weekend wasn’t likely, but next month wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. These things tended to happen soon once it was publicly announced.
I didn’t have the luxury of time. I couldn’t afford to look around, hoping another well-off client would fall into my lap.
I had to act now.
I hated what I was going to do, but the plan was already crystalline in my mind. I knew how I could handle Tamara and the connection she needed with her brother. I’d done it before even. It was simple, and sometimes, I could even pretend it was a mercy because nobody went to a psychic looking for closure unless they really needed it.
But it was a lie.
It was all a lie, and I didn’t want to lie to Kian’s mom.
“So, you stay here and let Joelle marry a man who will make her miserable, who might well hurt her. That’s the option,” I muttered under my breath, careful to keep my voice low.
And it was no option at all.
I wasn’t doing it.
So…I was going to have to do the other thing I didn’t want to do.
Closing my eyes, I rolled onto my side. “I’m sorry, Kian.”
Twelve
Kian
One car goes, another one comes...
Okay, it was a terrible twist on the one door closes, another one opens, but not long after the Maybach had been picked up by its owner, another luxury model came in with almost the exact same damage, and it happened because of another rich, joy-riding punk.
I shouldn’t complain. Rich, joying-riding punks made up a fair share of my income in one way or another, but I hated to see a fine piece of machinery mistreated.
I’d barely had a chance to finish up the estimate before it was quitting time for the day, but I wanted to get a little more done so I’d sent the rest of the crew on home. Now, with the rest of the shop quiet, I went over the car one more time.
The sound of a fist on the back door had me raising my head warily.
I wasn’t in a bad part of town, per s
e, but I wasn’t exactly on Rodeo Drive either.
With a wrench in one hand and my cell phone in my hip pocket, I went to answer the door.
Peering through it, I found myself staring at a face that had been bugging my dreams a little more than I liked – especially since I hadn’t gotten around to getting her phone number. Or her last name. Or much of any information that might help find her.
I knew she loved to have her neck nibbled on and I knew she was sensitive behind her right knee. I also knew she moaned in a low, throaty voice when she came.
And now I knew she was standing on the back stoop of my garage.
Opening the door, I gaped down at her. “Suria. What are you doing here?”
“Hello to you too,” she said, grinning up at me.
She wore a slinky black sundress that dipped down low over her breasts and outlined her narrow waist before flaring out at her hips. She looked like sex and sin and dreams, and I wanted to fist my hands in her hair.
Instead of hauling her inside though, I blurted out, “How in the hell did you know where I worked?”
She laughed and took a step closer to me. “It’s not that hard if you know how to use Google. It isn’t like you’ve got a real common name, Kian,” she said, sliding me a look from under her lashes. Glancing past me, she studied the inside of the garage, then asked, “Can I come in?”
Stepping aside, I let her come in. “So…you searched for Kian and mechanic?”
I vaguely recalled telling her what I did for a living, but seriously, she could find me like that?
“You said you worked at a garage in LA. You said you worked on luxury cars.” She shrugged as she walked by me, leaving a trail of some heady, musky perfume in her wake. “We hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, and I didn’t see you at the club last night.”
“You went looking for me?”
She spun around, smiling brightly. “Are you surprised?”
“You left without saying anything,” I responded. “So…well, kinda.”
She bit her lip and looked away. “I was…embarrassed. I don’t usually hook up with guys after meeting them just a couple of times, and I wasn’t sure what the rules were. And…well…” She laughed, the sound a little strained, a little offkey. “Like I said, I was embarrassed.”
“Okay.” Nodding slowly, I said, “I can see that.” I wanted to tell her that hook-ups on the first or second meet weren’t really my thing either, but hell, that was normally how I did things. It wasn’t really how I wanted things to be with her, but she’d run off before we could get to know each other better.
She’s here now, I reminded myself.
Gesturing toward the car I was working on, I said, “Want to have a seat? I’ve got to wrap up what I was doing before I kick off for the night.”
“Sure.” She followed me over to the car, but when she started to hop up on the hood of an Audi, I winced. “Let’s…um…here.” I grabbed a folding chair from where it sat against the back wall of the bay and hauled it over closer to my work area for her. “The paint was just done yesterday.”
She gasped and spun around to look at her butt, I presumed.
I laughed. “It’s dry, but when you own a car like this, you get pretty touchy about who plants their ass on the hood.” I dropped my eyes to stare in the vicinity of hers. “Even if it’s a first-class ass like yours.”
She grinned at me. “Glad you like it.”
Like didn’t touch it.
I went back to what I’d been doing, trying to pretend a casualness I didn’t feel. Suria, on the other hand, seemed to be perfectly calm. “What got you into working on cars so nice, their owners don’t like butts on them?”
I laughed a little before answering her, giving her the short answer instead of the long once since I didn’t want to see her eyes glaze over.
To my surprise, when I looked back at her, she seemed genuinely interested.
With a shrug, I wrapped it up. “It’s just really all I’ve ever wanted to do. And after my uncle passed away and left Mom and me with the money…well, I had a chance to buy this place, so I did.”
“Wow.” She sighed, looking away. “It must be nice being able to do the one thing you’ve always wanted in life.”
“It’s never too late, you know.” She looked sad, and I found myself wanting to go to her, hug her, coax her into my arms. Then, after that smile faded, I wanted to coax her out of her clothes and onto my lap where I could pull her down onto my cock. But first…I wanted to see that smile back. “I think you’ve got a few good years left on you. You could still chase a dream or two.”
I managed to get a chuckle out of her, and she brushed her hair back. “You think I got a few good years left?”
“A few.” Wiping my hands on the grease rag, I dropped down next to the clipboard I’d been using to make notes. I’d enter all the information into the computer tomorrow and start ordering parts. Tonight…well, I had other plans in mind.
But Suria still seemed distracted.
As I drew closer, she rose to her feet and paced around the car. “What does your mom think about this place? I bet she’s proud of her boy,” she commented, sending me a sly grin.
I snorted. “I could be working in a craft store making castles out of popsicle sticks, and if I was happy, my mother would be proud of her boy.” It was nothing less than the truth too.
“Easy to please?” She arched her brows at me from over the car, bracing her hands on the somewhat busted door.
“Nah. I’m just the only kid.” I shrugged, echoing her position.
“I’m glad I’m not the only kid,” she said, looking away. “My dad isn’t…he’s not an easy person to deal with. Having somebody else makes it a little easier to tolerate him.”
“Split the attention?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes at me. “I still tend to get the brunt of it, but at least I know I’m not alone in dealing with him.” Dropping her chin down, she studied me. “What’s it like being an only child? Is it lonely?”
“I…no. It never felt like it, but then I never thought about it.”
We talked for a while, me circling toward her around the car, her circling away. Then she pivoted, circling toward me and without thinking about it, I started to circle in the other direction.
Eventually, though, I stopped and let her come toward me.
When she reached me, I caught her hips, pulling her up against me, letting her feel the erection I’d been sporting almost from the minute she’d come into the garage.
“Why are you really here?” I asked her, dipping my head to skim my lips down her neck.
She arched her hips against mine, and I caught a handful of her skirt, dragging it upward. “Is it really hard to figure out?”
I found a skimpy pair of panties underneath. Tugging them out of the way, I slid my fingers through the soft patch of curls, then down her slit, finding her wet and waiting. “Are you here for this?”
Her reply was to grab my wrist and rock against me. She stared up at me with bold, hungry eyes.
“I don’t have anything here with me,” I said in a tight voice. I’d used up my last condom and hadn’t thought to restock.
“I do.”
She picked up her purse and let it swing between us like a pendulum.
“Fuck.” Boosting her up, I guided her until her legs were around my waist, then we made our way into my office. There, I closed the door, but I didn’t make it any farther. “Give me a condom, Suria,” I demanded just before slamming my mouth down on hers.
She tasted the same way she smelled, like sin, seduction, dreams.
Her mouth opened under mine as she fumbled in her purse for the rubber. Finally, she shoved it into my hand. She must have dropped the purse because something bounced off my foot. I didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was here.
She wrapped her arms around my neck as I boosted her up against the wall.
A little more fumbling and I had my jeans unzipped
and the rubber in place. There was no more fumbling after that. The two of us fit together perfectly, like a glove, as if we were made to fit each other.
She gasped as I filled her.
I grunted as she clamped down tight around me. Her eyes flared wide, then fluttered closed as I withdrew before flying back open as I surged deep.
Her legs were soft and strong around me, squeezing my hips, her heels digging into my ass and urging me on.
I didn’t need any urging.
Driving one hand into the hard, solid steel of the door at her back, I braced the forearm of my free arm under her hips, holding her steady as I began to shaft her with short, shallow digs. I wanted to fill her completely with each thrust, but the drag of her pussy over my cock was the sweetest torture, and I didn’t want this to end too soon.
She whimpered my name, her nails digging into my neck.
That little bite of pain added to the edge of the moment and I caught her lower lip between my teeth, biting down.
She gasped and responded in kind by biting me back.
It drove me a little crazy, and I slammed into her harder, filled her deeper.
Suria mewled and thrashed, trapped between me and the door, and her squirming was the last thing I needed. Feeling her working against me, her nipples stabbing into my chest, all of it snapped the final strands of my control, and I began to thrust deep and hard.
She wailed out my name and came, shattering against me.
I didn’t stop.
I didn’t think I could.
I kept moving until she’d wrung every last bit from me. Only then did I collapse against her, letting the two of us slide down the door, and we stayed there until the muscles in my thighs cramped, and I could hardly move…and I was pretty damn happy about the whole thing.
Thirteen
