by Sybil Bartel
My entire marriage, I’d heard those same words from him. I was better than this person or that job or that endorsement or that shoot. He’d said it so many times, I’d stupidly started to believe it. Before I knew it, he accomplished his intent, and I was isolated from anyone and everyone except his daughter.
Sitting in a car he’d bought, wearing clothes he’d paid for, jewelry on my wrists he approved of, I made a decision.
A decision I should have made ten years ago.
As soon as I unloaded Summer’s problems off my back, I was going to pack a bag and leave Miami. I was going home. To Marstrand.
“Goodbye, Leo.”
“Wait, wait, wait, Fallon. I know that tone.”
No, he’d never heard this tone. This tone was different. This tone wasn’t sitting in a Mercedes S-Class coupe because I wouldn’t look good in the full-sized SUV I’d wanted. This tone wasn’t the silence of a stepmother who never had more control in raising a small girl than any of the dozens of nannies hired despite me being home full-time. This tone wasn’t the tone of a woman who was going to sit back and wait to be pushed around by an overbearing, unappreciative tyrant.
This was my tone.
And I was better than this.
“You’re right, Leo. All those years of saying it, I finally get it. I am better than this. I’m better than everything you never gave me. Including a stepdaughter you never wanted me to raise, because even when you didn’t want the responsibility that came along with bringing a child into this world, you couldn’t give up control long enough to let someone else parent who actually wanted the job. All of which is irrelevant now. You don’t trust me with her, you never wanted me to have the authority of a parent over her, and you never wanted more from me than a quiet arm piece who took what scraps you were offering.”
“Now wait just one goddamn minute. If you think—”
I hung up and turned my phone off.
Then I programmed Club Frenzy’s address into the GPS.
SITTING OUTSIDE HER HOUSE IN the Escalade, I rubbed a hand over my unshaven jaw. “Where the hell are you, Fallon?”
I glanced at the clock on the dash.
It’d been almost twelve fucking hours since she’d walked out of L&A.
Then she’d up and disappeared.
Tyler had tracked her Mercedes until she’d gotten on the highway, but we’d lost her after that. Summer was MIA, and no one had seen any of Estevez’s men, either near the club or at Summer’s or Fallon’s. Neither woman had used their personal credit cards, and both of their phones had been turned off.
Sitting on my ass in the Escalade outside her house, going stir-crazy, I’d spent the morning ordering furniture for the apartment over the stables from one of those same-day delivery places. Then I begged the elderly wife of my nearest neighbor to let the delivery people in, and she’d agreed.
After that I’d spent the day thinking about every wrong step I’d made.
Goddamn it, where was she?
My cell rang and I answered it through the SUV’s speakers. “Knight.”
“Amherst just called,” Luna clipped. “Apparently Fallon called him two hours ago, asking about Estevez and the club.”
Goddamn it. “And the prick didn’t think to call us then?” I threw the Escalade into gear.
“Asshole said he was busy.”
Fucking dick. I’d heard about how busy he liked to get. “I’m on my way there now, but that leaves her place unguarded.”
“That’s fine. You’re better off intercepting her at Frenzy. Tyler has the feeds for the club up now, but she hasn’t shown yet. Call it in if you need backup. We’re still looking for the daughter and Estevez’s other men. I’ll do a drive by of Fallon’s place later. Report as soon as you have something.” Luna hung up.
I drove to Club Frenzy and parked. As I was getting out of the SUV, my cell buzzed with a text.
Tyler: Fallon entered the club two minutes ago. Still no sign of any Ninja fuckers. I alerted security you’re coming in. Need backup?
I fired off a response.
Me: Copy. No backup needed. Thanks.
I jogged across the street and went to the front of the line waiting to get in. When the bouncer saw my shirt, he nodded and held the rope open for me to pass.
Striding into the club, I was immediately assaulted with heavy bass and bodies everywhere. Hating the fucking club scene, I scanned, looking for blonde hair.
Second pass, I glimpsed her going up the stairs to a VIP section.
Adrenaline surged, and I pushed through the crowd, stopping at the bouncer standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Personal security for Fallon Amherst.” Pointing to the logo on my shirt, I nodded at the stairs. “She just went up.”
The prick looked at me skeptically. “Bodyguards don’t usually leave their clients unattended.”
I forced a sheepish smile. “I was parking the car, and she got impatient. Women. What can I say?” I held my hands up.
Eyeing my waist, probably for a weapon, he didn’t respond, but he lifted the rope and let me pass.
I took the stairs two at a time.
When my gaze landed on her, my heart fucking stopped. Then it kicked into gear, double-time.
Jesus, she was beautiful.
Standing at the railing, looking over the crowd, her back to me, she scanned the sea of bodies dancing.
Faking a confidence I didn’t fucking feel, I walked up next to her and casually leaned on the railing. “You know what I think?” I’d had all day to fucking contemplate her anger.
Her shoulders rose with a sharp inhale, but she ignored me.
I turned toward her. She was more beautiful than the first time I laid eyes on her all those years ago, and I fucking hated myself for how I’d handled this. Every damn one of her tears and orgasms had been running through my head on repeat all day.
A million ways to play this, I didn’t apologize. Not yet.
I went on the offensive. “I think you’re looking for something you’re not gonna find.” There was only one reason she’d come here looking for Estevez. Whether she wanted to pay him off, threaten him, bribe him, hell, yell at him, it all boiled down to the same damn useless sentiment. She was here on Summer’s behalf.
“You don’t know what I’m looking for,” she retorted, moving to her right. “Leave.”
Watching the silk of her dress shift around her hips, I moved with her. “You might be surprised.” I knew misplaced loyalty when I saw it. I’d lived it for eighteen years.
Inhaling, she turned to look at me. Her arresting eyes, more green against the gray of her dress, took me in and spat me out in less than a single breath. “First of all, I don’t associate with liars. Second of all, I’m not repeating myself again. Leave or I’ll call security.”
I took no pleasure in my next words. “Does your daughter tell you the truth? Do you associate with her? Would you even be here right now if it weren’t for her?”
Her back stiffened in perfect posture. She was still in the dress and heels I’d taken off her, but unlike last night, not a single strand of her hair was out of place.
She didn’t comment.
I kept going. “Do you think what you’re doing is safe? Did you ask yourself who might be responsible for shooting Summer?”
Fear passed across her exquisite features before she quickly masked it.
I raised one eyebrow. “Do I have your attention now?” I wanted my hands in her hair.
The anger she was holding onto came right back. “Where is she? Where is Julio Estevez?”
“Not here.” I leaned back on the railing and scanned the club. Drugs, assholes on the make and easy sex everywhere. Fallon didn’t belong here.
“Tell me where they are,” she demanded.
Turning my head, I took in every inch of her troubled, angry expression. And underneath it all, I saw the same damn thing that I’d felt for so many years. Pain.
I had one shot, and I took it. “Have a dr
ink with me, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“No,” she snapped.
Pushing off the railing, standing to my full height, I crossed my arms. “You sure about that?” It was a cocky, dick move, but I played it anyway.
Her gaze immediately went to the logo on my black company polo. “If that’s supposed to impress me, that you work for André Luna, then you’re seriously barking up the wrong tree.”
I kept my tone even. “I’m not barking.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” Smelling her intoxicating perfume that was prettier and more exotic than anything I’d ever encountered made me want every second of last night back. “Is getting involved with drug-dealing sex traffickers worth risking your life for?” Because that’s what she was doing.
“Screw you.”
“Who are you really mad at, sweetheart? Me or your daughter?” Or herself? But I had enough sense not to fucking ask that.
Her face twisted with rage. “Don’t you dare call me that.”
I pushed harder, because goddamn it, my instincts were kicking hard on this, and I wanted her mad. I wanted her so damn mad she eclipsed the shit she’d been putting up with from Summer and opened her eyes. Because I could guarantee Summer’s antics the other night weren’t a one-off, and I’d bet my ranch she’d been pushing Fallon and pushing the envelope for years. “You and I both know I wasn’t the one who lied to you.”
“You withheld information,” she ground out. “Just like you’re doing now.”
“I’m not withholding anything. I asked you to have a drink and talk it out.”
She spat venom at me. “That’s blackmail, and I’m not drinking.”
I nodded toward the bar across the balcony. “Water then.” She didn’t strike me as a Coke girl.
Her nostrils flared with an aggravated inhale. “Where is my daughter?”
Relentless, I kept pushing. “Club soda?”
For two seconds, she stared at me like she wanted to take me out. Then she shoved past me and aimed for the bar.
Hustling to catch up, I put my hand on her lower back like the gentleman I wasn’t and led her to the bar. Nodding at the bartender, I pulled a stool out for her. “Have a seat.”
“I’m not staying long enough to sit.”
The bartender came over and smiled at her as he checked her out. “What can I get you? Hey, aren’t you—”
“She’s thirsty.” Leveling the guy with a look, I tossed a twenty on the bar. “Two club sodas.”
His gaze cutting from the logo on my shirt to the size of my arms, the bartender dropped the smile and nodded once. “Coming right up.”
Anger radiating from every one of her tensed muscles, Fallon turned to look at me. “Tell me where they are right now, or I will start asking every single person in this godforsaken club where Julio Estevez is.”
The bartender set the drinks in front of us. “No charge.” He nodded at me again and moved on.
Leaving the twenty on the bar, I handed Fallon her club soda. “Go ahead.” Making a calculated move, I called her bluff. “I’m sure you’ll attract plenty of attention.”
She took the drink and set it right back down. “I don’t have time for games.”
I didn’t either. It was why I’d always gravitated toward older women. Or maybe my whole damn life had been one fucked-up joke since the day she’d walked into that hospital room and I’d been chasing a dream that was never gonna be real. “I can assure you, I’m not playing games.”
Anger colored her cheeks. “Then where the hell is Summer or this Julio Estevez? My ex-husband wouldn’t tell me a damn thing except that she’d been shot.”
Stalling, wondering how much to tell her, I drank half the club soda. “Did you ever consider that he wasn’t telling you for your own security?” I hated defending the asshole.
“What?” she asked sarcastically. “Am I going to get shot now too?” She waved her arm around. “In a crowd of people?”
Jesus, she didn’t even know how it’d happened. I glanced around us to make sure no one was listening, then I laid it out. “Summer was shot in a crowd of people, right in the middle of the Ultimate Music Festival. That’s the kind of person Julio Estevez is. Those are the kinds of things he does when he’s not busy kidnapping young women or selling drugs.”
She blanched, and her hand went to her chest.
Driving my point home, I asked a rhetorical question. “Did you come here looking for Estevez by yourself?”
Her hand still on her chest, she tried to spit more anger at me, but her fire was fading. “You followed me, you tell me the answer to that question.”
I set my drink down. “Then answer me this.” I held her pretty green-eyed gaze and hoped like hell she was getting the message about her fool’s errand. “Why does your ex-husband have a security detail and you don’t?”
Her hand dropped, and her shoulders straightened. Then just like this morning, she turned all business. “I don’t need one, but clearly my daughter does, which is why I need to find her. If you have anything else to add, then do so. Otherwise, I’m done with this conversation, Mr. Knight, if that’s even your real name.”
“I deserved that.” I nodded, then inhaled. “But for the record, Thomas Knight is my real name, and I was born and raised in Texas before moving to Florida at eighteen. Every personal detail I shared with you was the truth.”
Keeping up the same cool tone, she dished out more words I didn’t want to hear. “I couldn’t care less who you are. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re done here.” She turned to leave.
I threw down my Hail Mary. “We met before. Years ago.”
Her back to me, she paused.
Fucking nervous, about to admit to something I never spoke about to anyone, I picked up the club soda.
She turned.
I held her gaze. “South Florida Children’s Hospital.”
Perfectly still, perfectly poised, she stared.
But then she blinked, and I saw it.
The flicker of a memory.
A memory I lived and breathed through every shit trial in my life.
A memory that’d become the one beacon of good in my life.
A memory that had saved me.
Slow, deliberate, I set my glass down. “Eleven years ago.” I met her gaze again. “You came to visit the critical care wing. You gave me a stuffed dolphin.” A fucking dolphin. “You were the single most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on.” I pushed off the bar and stepped alongside her. “You still are.”
She sucked in a sharp breath.
Meeting her gaze one more time, I gave her the only information I safely could. “Your daughter was shot twice at the festival, but one of Luna’s men happened to be there on another assignment. He got her out, got her stitched up, then her father hired us to make the whole mess go away before it became a bigger problem. I was assigned to watch her, and in the twenty-four hours she was in my presence, she skipped out on me, took illegally prescribed drugs and drank like a career alcoholic. I reported it to Luna, and we took her to rehab. This morning, less than twelve hours in, she checked herself out of the treatment facility. She contacted one of the men who worked for Estevez and bartered for drugs. We believe he picked her up. We think she’s with him now.”
Both of her hands went to her heart.
I wasn’t finished. “While I omitted the fact last night that I work for Luna and that, for the twenty-four hours before I met you in that bar, I was watching your daughter get strung out, I didn’t deliberately withhold my occupation. If you had directly asked, I would have told you.” Fuck, I would have told her. “I didn’t outright lie to you. I’m not like your daughter or your ex-husband. I’m nothing like them.”
Her eyes wide, her expression crushed, she stared at me like she was so fucking lost, it hurt.
I soldiered on. “and for the record, I would never, ever, put your life in danger. Jesus, Fa
llon, I would give my life for yours. God as my witness, I would.” I was who I was because of this woman. Every damn time I’d wanted to give up in my life, I remembered her. The woman who stole my twelve-year-old heart and fucking kept it. I’d soldiered on because one day, I wanted to be a man who deserved a woman like her. I wanted to deserve her. “I don’t take a single second of last night, or you, for granted. I’m sorry for not telling you who I was. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you we’d met before. But if I had, last night never would’ve happened, and I can’t regret that. Not for one damn second.”
Turing in on herself, her eyes welled.
I leaned down and kissed her cheek. Her scent, her softness, her vulnerability, all of it reared up and kicked me in the fucking chest. “Thank you for last night.” My voice fucking broke. “It was the best night of my life.”
I didn’t wait for a response.
I walked the fuck out.
OH.
Dear.
God.
“Dolphin Boy,” I whispered.
MY CHEST CAVING IN, WANTING to punch something, I walked down the stairs and pushed my way out of the fucking club.
Jesus, I’d walked away from her.
I didn’t have a fucking choice.
I saw her face.
I knew that look.
I saw the betrayal she felt.
I fucking hated myself for putting that look on her face, but I knew I was right. If she’d known who I was last night, she never would’ve gone upstairs with me. And sweet Jesus, last night. Her taste, her body, her mouth, her eyes, her trust, her tight fucking heat, coming inside her…
Fuck.
Fuck.
But goddamn, was it worth it?
One fucking night?
When I could’ve had more?
FUCK.
Instinct telling me to go back, to not take no for an answer, to do what I had to do to make her mine—that shit fucked with me and my head spun. I should’ve kept talking until I convinced her. Convinced her of what, I didn’t know. But this didn’t fucking feel right. It felt like giving up, and goddamn it, I didn’t crawl out of the hole my life had become only to be a fucking pussy now.