“Anything I should know about?” His tone is brusque.
I drag my hand along my jaw as I explain as quickly as possible. “I think a friend of mine may be in trouble and Tyler and I are heading that way shortly to check it out.”
“Any concrete evidence?”
“No, just a hunch.”
“Just keep me informed.” Click. He hangs up while I stand holding the phone to my ear.
After retrieving my suitcase from the closet, I quickly pack and wait for Tyler’s arrival. Thirty minutes later, somewhere around three-thirty, headlights illuminate my living room as a car pulls into the drive. Just as I head out, I spot my laptop on the coffee table. I pick it up and tuck it under my arm. That’s my only connection to Syrah.
With my suitcase in the trunk, I wrench open the passenger door, slide into the seat, and click the seatbelt in place. Tyler and I drive away in his black SUV, the typical FBI vehicle.
Bags sag under his eyes. Tyler looks like he hasn’t slept in days. “You alright?” I ask, as he drags his hand across his face, probably trying to ward off the sleepiness.
“No, I’m not alright. It’s almost four a.m. and I’m driving down the fucking road.”
“You asked me when I wanted to leave,” I remind him.
“Yeah, well, I was already awake, and I knew you were excited to get going. Now I need sleep.” Tyler hits the interstate and heads north. There isn’t much traffic, so he floors it. “Any idea how to find her?”
“Maybe.”
Tyler glares at me with puckered lips. “Ah shit! You don’t have a clue, do you? We’re chasing a ghost.”
“We’ve had less information before.”
The way he keeps glancing at me from the corner of his eye is making me uncomfortable. When I think about it, it does seem crazy to take off after someone who didn’t ask you to come.
“You’ve fallen for this girl.” He shakes his head.
My fingers thread through my messy blond hair. “Don’t be crazy, I haven’t even met her.” I make a face at him. “Besides, you know I don’t do relationships.”
Tyler stares at me for an uncomfortable second before turning back toward the road. “Uh huh, what about Elena?”
I scoff. Elena was more of a friend-with-benefits relationship. Nothing serious, and nothing lasting.
Syrah is important to me, but not the way he thinks. When I talk to her, she sets off all my protective instincts. It’s a strange feeling to be protective about someone you haven’t met.
“So, tell me about this ‘maybe,’” he finally says.
“Syrah let . . .”
Tyler’s head whips around and his nose crinkles. “Syrah?”
“That’s her online ID, the only thing I know to call her besides the girl on the computer.”
“Syrah. Ok, so how do you plan to find her in a city that over eight million people call home?”
“She mentioned a bar and two names. Matt and Luca—”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so? That should be easy—”
“Don’t be an asshole, Tyler.” I clench my jaw before continuing. We are both stressed and sleep deprived, so I ignore his condescending tone. “As I was saying before you interrupted. She mentioned Matt and Luca. This Luca owns a nightclub in the city, so we find him, then we find the girl.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
It does sound easy. Too easy. And that worries me. A lot.
We drive the next couple of hours in silence, until we stop to eat at a place called Dinah’s Diner, a little mom-and-pop joint that’s seen better days.
Slamming the car door shut, I head inside, the bell ringing when the front door opens.
The middle-aged woman with bottled bright-red hair is standing at the coffeepot pouring a cup. She looks over her shoulder to see who came in. “Sit anywhere, darling, and I’ll be right with you.”
Tyler and I head to the rear and pick out a square corner table and face the dining room.
I grab the plastic menu. Tyler does the same. As I’m looking over the choices, Tyler asks, “So what’s the plan when we get to New York?”
I keep looking at the menu, not willing to admit that I hadn’t thought that far ahead. This is an impulse move based on a gut feeling, intuition, whatever you want to call it. I know she’s in trouble, and I know I’ve stumbled on to something huge.
Chapter Five
Ariel
Thursday night, Jimmy locks the doors at closing time. Tommy is in the back office counting the day’s earnings, and Alina is sweeping while I place all the chairs on the tables. I haven’t seen Matt or Luca this week, thankfully, although I miss Matt’s smiling face. He is handsome warmth where Luca is sexually intense. One is safe while the other invokes emotions comparable to jumping off a cliff. Intense.
Heart-thumping.
Adrenaline laced . . .
“Glad it’s over. My feet hurt.” When I glance up, I see Alina with one shoe off, rubbing her foot.
“If you’d stop wearing high heels, your feet wouldn’t hurt so much,” I chide with a snarky grin.
She shrugs. “What can I say, I like my heels.”
“Yeah, and your feet hate you. You should wear tennis shoes like me.” I raise an eyebrow when she gives me the look. “Just saying . . .”
She walks over, and with one hand on her hip, she tilts her head and asks, “What’s wrong with you tonight?”
I glance around the empty bar before meeting her eyes. Shrugging, I say, “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Spill it.”
Jimmy walks over and stands next to Alina, both giving me the look, the one that says we ain’t leaving until you spill it. With a heavy sigh, I give in.
“Luca says we have dinner reservations tomorrow night. He didn’t give me a choice. I told him I had to work, but then Tommy found me about an hour ago and said I have tomorrow night off.” I know deep down that Luca called Tommy, and that’s how Tommy found out. Luca made it happen.
“So, go out with Luca. He’s sexy as hell. And rich.” Alina waggles her eyebrows.
Jimmy never says anything when Luca is mentioned, so I finally ask. “What’s the deal with you two? Why don’t you like him?”
Jimmy purses his lips and for a minute, I don’t think he’s going to answer. I don’t say it aloud, but his dislike for Luca makes me even more hesitant.
“It’s not that I have anything against him personally. There’s just bad blood between our two families.” I narrow my eyes and study him. “He’s family,” he finishes.
I slap his shoulder with the palm of my hand, hard enough that my hand stings, but not hard enough to budge Jimmy. “Why didn’t you tell me this the other night? I thought you were in trouble!”
Jimmy laughs and shakes his head. I huff out an irritated breath. “So, what did that guy want with you the other night? The one at the club?”
“Luca wanted to see me, to find out who you were.”
The way he says it, so nonchalant, makes me angry. He doesn’t know, and I won’t tell him, but I’ve worried myself sick thinking that Frank and his goons had found me. This leads to another question, one I’ve also worried about.
“Is he into anything illegal?”
Jimmy slowly shakes his head. “Not that I know of. I just don’t like him.”
“Because of bad blood, not because of something he’s done?”
Jimmy nods. I let out a slow deep breath as I consider everything he’s told me. Luca is not into anything illegal, he’s not associated with Frank, he’s just some guy. Some powerful sexy guy who wants to go out with me.
Suddenly I’m nervous. I’ve never been on a date. I’ve been asked, but . . . what would I wear? How should I act? I’m not sure my first date should be with someone as intense as Luca.
“You two can stay here and talk about Luca all you want, but I’m going home. My feet are killing me.” Alina grabs her purse and heads for the back door.
“I’m with you,�
� I say, grabbing my purse and following her. Jimmy is right behind me.
As I’m walking along, I know someone is watching me. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickle. I glance over my shoulder and see a long black limousine slow to a stop beside me. The three of us turn and stare until Jimmy screws his face in annoyance and says, “I’ll see you later.” He takes off toward the subway.
When Alina sees who steps out, she smiles. “I’ll see you later, Ariel,” and then she briskly walks until she catches up with Jimmy.
It’s after two a.m., and now that my friends have taken off on me, I’m left all alone on the side of the street.
I look at the man standing in front of me. “What are you doing?” I ask.
Luca gives me a quirky smile and says, “Technically, it’s Friday.”
My eyes roam the length of him. Dark wavy hair, piercing brown eyes, a sharp, chiseled jawline that leads to full pink lips. Most women would love to have lips like his. He stands around six feet tall, his body hidden behind his tailored suit and tie.
“May I give you a ride home?” He cocks his head to the side and waits. I get the distinct impression that he doesn’t hear the word no very often. If ever.
I glance down at myself and grimace before shaking my head. “I don’t want to get your car dirty.”
He laughs. The sound is so masculine, so sexy. I feel it deep inside, igniting something I haven’t felt before.
“The car will be fine.”
I can’t stop staring at his lips. They look so soft, so moist.
I glance down at my faded blue jeans, worn-out sneakers. I even spot grease stains on the hem of my gray T-shirt. In confusion, I blurt, “I don’t know why you want to go out with me.” My eyes scan his body. Expensive black leather shoes, a perfectly tailored suit, even his watch is worth more than I can make in a year. “I’m nothing like you. I don’t have expensive clothes,” I grab the end of my ponytail, “my hair isn’t styled,” I touch my cheek, “and I probably have food all over my face.”
He laughs and then places one arm around my shoulder to guide me to his car. His touch is electrifying, so much so that I don’t notice where I am until I’m sitting in the back of his car. The black leather is soft, but I’m afraid to touch anything.
“Let’s go somewhere and have coffee. We can talk, get to know each other.”
I don’t know. My thoughts are jumbled as I try to figure out what the hell’s happening to me. How can one man make me feel this way? Overwhelming excitement that scares me a little. Just being here with him is out of my comfort zone.
He leans forward and tells the driver, “Take us to the club.”
My head whips around, my eyes narrow. “You said we’d go have coffee.”
“We will. And I thought you’d feel safe at the club.”
I throw my hands in the air and in a high-pitched voice, I say, “I can’t go there looking like this! Oh, God! I was out of place the last time, but this . . .” I glance down at my clothes and look back up at Luca, “No! Just no!”
He tugs on my ponytail, tearing the band away and letting the hair fall around my face. “You’re beautiful. But don’t worry, we’ll go in the back entrance and no one will see you.” He smiles. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
I have my doubts, but instead of saying so, I lean back and rest my head against the top of the seat and try not to show how nervous I am.
I can feel his gaze warm my body, and I don’t understand his attraction to me. I’m a nobody. Unattractive and unimportant. Okay, I’ve been told I’m beautiful, but I can’t compete with the hundred-dollar haircuts and perfectly manicured nails. My boobs are mine, born and raised with ’em, and they’re a little small. No perfectly round C-cup bought and paid for.
The driver pulls around to a back door, barely noticeable unless I squint. It’s brick and blends in with the wall perfectly. Ushering me out of the limo, Luca takes my hand and leads me through the door and into a waiting elevator. He stands close. My nose is inches away from his chest and I can smell his masculine cologne.
My heart beats rapidly, my breath quickens. How can he elicit such overwhelming feelings? Overwhelming desire? When he rests his hand on my lower back, an electric shock zings throughout my body, igniting a spark so intense . . .
I can’t breathe . . .
The elevator door slides open and I flee, needing to put distance between us. Before I can get too far, Luca grabs my hand. “Are you okay?” he asks in that sexy masculine voice.
I want to say, hell no, I’m not okay and ask him what he’s doing to me. But I don’t. I just nod and let him lead me to his office.
Two large men wearing suits, who could double as wrestlers, follow us inside. Turning to them, Luca orders, “Leave us.” Without a word, they do his bidding.
His office is immaculate, decorated with expensive paintings and rugs, but none of those things impress me. What catches my eye is the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the dance floor. I know how loud the music pumps through those speakers, I’ve heard it, but his office remains silent, free from the beat of the music.
I stare down at the table where I sat with my friends the one time I came here. “You watched me.”
He walks up behind me and rests a hand on my shoulder. “I did.” I can feel his breath on the top of my head as it brushes over my hair when he speaks.
“Why?” I ask, staring at the beautiful women on the dance floor as they sway with practiced moves. It’s packed tonight. I imagine it’s packed every night.
Without answering, Luca sweeps my hair back from my shoulder and skims my neck with his moist lips. I close my eyes and savor the feeling as my bones turn soft, barely holding me up. I’m losing myself.
My eyes pop open and I step to the side, away from him. “Stop.” I meant to say it forcefully, but it came out as a hesitant plea.
His lips twitch, and it makes me angry. He knows what he’s doing to me, and he’s enjoying making me uncomfortable. With every intention of heading home, I rush for the door. He grabs my wrist. “Where are you going?”
“You’re playin’ with me and I don’t like it!” My southern accent comes out thicker than normal, which happens when I’m angry. I jerk my wrist out of his hand.
He holds my angry gaze for a moment, then nods. “How about that coffee I promised you?”
Coffee? Shit, right now I’d like something a little stronger. My emotions are a rollercoaster and I’m ready to get off this up-and-down ride. A deep breath later, I give one curt nod and head to the chair. Turning it so I can face the dance floor, I plop down and fold my arms across my chest.
Chapter Six
Luca
Ariel sits in the chair facing the dance floor. Her arms are crossed, and it looks more like she’s protecting herself. It’s puzzling. She’s a mystery I’m determined to unravel.
I had Tony check her background, which checks out until he digs deeper. Ariel Hancock doesn’t exist. I want to ask Tommy, but I don’t think he knows anything about this lovely creature sitting in my office.
When Tony first informed me of her curious background, I suspected Ariel was a plant, someone sent to see if I was dealing drugs, like my family before me. So I headed to the bar where she works, intending to get answers.
Watching her stare at the dance floor, I wonder who she is, why she is using a false name. What’s she hiding from?
I open the door and tell Tony, who stands right outside, to bring two coffees. “Yes, boss.”
As I look back at Ariel, I let out a long deep breath and try to decide how to proceed. The more I look at her, the more I see a scared animal about to bolt. I need to tread lightly, be careful.
Standing behind her chair, I sweep her hair back and start to massage her shoulders. They’re tight, and as I knead the muscles with my hands, I feel her shiver.
“Are you cold?”
It takes her a minute, but she finally says, “No. I’m fine, thanks.”
&n
bsp; “I’m sorry if I moved too fast.” Words I never thought I’d hear myself say. My family has money, I have money, money that I inherited, fortunes that I’ve built on my own, and women have always come easy. None of these things seem to impress Ariel. She will not be easily swayed.
She never looks at me, just stares at the dance floor, watching. “Why do you even like me?” she says. “I’m nothing like them.”
As I watch the dancers, I know what she’s talking about. Who she’s talking about. I tread carefully as I answer honestly. “You’re different.” Her shoulders tighten under my hands and I know she’s offended, so I press on. “Uniquely different.”
She scoffs. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Fine. You’re raw beauty. Beautiful even in your work clothes with no makeup.” I can’t tell if I’m convincing her, so I keep going. “Look at the women down there. Yes, they are beautiful, but they hide under plastic surgery and fancy clothes. You do neither. And still you hold your shoulders back and act like you don’t give a damn.”
“You have fancy clothes.”
I chuckle. “I do. It’s what’s expected of me.” My family always made me dress in fine clothes, if for nothing else than appearances only. Now, I’m uncomfortable in anything else.
She glances at me over her shoulder. “Do you always do what’s expected?”
“I do what I want.”
A light knock on the door, and Tony walks in carrying two coffees. “Thank you,” I say and take them from him.
He nods and then heads back out. I hand Ariel a cup and say, “Join me on the sofa.”
She accepts the coffee. “Will you keep your hands to yourself?” She raises one eyebrow, waiting.
My lips twitch. “I’ll try.”
“Try hard,” she says with a smile that replaces her anger.
Sipping my coffee, I revel in the realization that I’m content just sitting beside her. Even with my dick straining against my pants, I know I have to take things slow. I watch as she barely drinks the coffee.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s okay, but I’m not really a coffee drinker.”
The Secrets We Keep Page 6
