Dare (In Safe Hands Book 2)

by S. M. Shade

  It wasn’t until he almost brought his lips to my face that reality set in. I don’t know if he just got carried away or maybe had his eyes closed as he kissed my neck, but I couldn’t stand the thought of his lips landing on that puckered skin. The revulsion he was sure to feel, even if he hid it well. Thank goodness his friend showed up when he did.

  I can’t bear to go to my room where I might hear him, so I grab a blanket from the closet and lie on the couch, tucking a throw pillow under my cheek. I just want to sleep and pretend this never happened. Apparently, the pleasure given by a Greek God of a man knocks you out after years of only self-induced orgasms, because I’m asleep in seconds.

  The beeping of my cell alerting me I have a voicemail wakes me the next morning. Groggy, I sit up on the couch, shaking off a dream I can’t really recall, but I know included a lot of naked, muscled skin. Damn it, I can’t even escape Dare in my dreams.

  Lisa’s voice rings out when I play back my messages, asking if I could meet with her student, Ryan, this afternoon at one. It’s nearly eleven o’clock, so I shoot her a quick text, letting her know I’ll be there, then jump in the shower. My reflection in the bathroom mirror makes me pause. There’s a pink spot on my neck. A hickey. He gave me a damn hickey. I should be annoyed, but seeing it only reminds me of his lips on my neck, the heat of his body, how amazing he smelled.

  What has happened to my life in the past few days? I’d normally spend the day working on a design project, reading, watching T.V., then maybe dancing alone in the evening. How did I end up rubbing makeup over a hickey before heading to teach at a dance school?

  Traffic is light and I end up pulling in the lot of the studio in plenty of time. Lisa greets me as soon as I walk into the lobby. “Ayda, glad you could make it. Ryan is so excited to get a new routine.” She waves to a blond headed boy down the hall and he grins, practically running to meet us. Ryan is twelve years old, but small for his age, with a thin body clearly sculpted by years of dance.

  “Ryan, this is Ms. Brooks,” she introduces us.

  “Nice to meet you,” he says with a shy smile.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  Lisa lays a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “You can use the purple room. It’s empty until three.” While her advanced classes take place in the main studio, Lisa has two other rooms where she holds the smaller classes for the youngest children. She turns to me. “Come find me if you need me.”

  I give Ryan a reassuring smile. “I’m going to change, then I’ll meet you there. Why don’t you run through the warm up exercises?”

  “Sure.” He heads down the hall, and Lisa looks at me.

  “Thank you for helping him. If you have any issues, I’ll be in the office.”

  “We’ll be fine,” I assure her. I can feel the eyes on me when I walk back to the dressing room. A young, pretty woman is teaching a group of five and six year olds in one room, while a teenage couple practice a routine on the main floor. I’m sure they’re curious who I am, since I’ve never been here when the school was open.

  I change quickly and join Ryan at the barre to warm up. “Have you heard the song you’ll be performing to?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, I love it. Lisa sent me the title last night, and I think I drove my dad crazy playing it over and over.”

  He smiles when I laugh. When our muscles are sufficiently warm and limber, we get started. I’m blown away by this young boy’s skill and determination. Lisa is right. He feels the music, bringing a passion to dance most boys his age aren’t capable of. It isn’t until we hear his father’s voice nearly two hours later, that we fall to the floor, sweating and breathing hard.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” his dad says, “but Ryan has a birthday party to get to this afternoon.” He’s not what I’d expect a dance dad to look like. Big, bearded, and burly. He approaches me with a wide smile. “You must be Ms. Brooks. I’m Kevin.” His eyes land for a moment on the scar on my face, but it doesn’t bother me. He isn’t staring, and it’s actually weirder sometimes when people go out of their way not to look.

  “Please, call me Ayda. You have a very talented young man here.”

  “Yes, I do, although, he could smell a little better,” he teases, and Ryan tries to wipe his sweaty head on his dad’s shirt.

  Laughing, I tell Ryan, “You did a great job. Lisa will let you know when our next practice session will be.”

  “Great! Bye Ms. Brooks!” he calls, and I hear him tell his dad as they’re leaving, “You have to see this routine. It’s awesome. I’m going to win.”

  Lisa catches me on my way out. “Ryan’s excited. I guess the lesson went well?”

  “He’s a quick study.”

  “Yes, he is. Would you be willing to work with him once a week until the competition?”

  Pausing, I consider her offer. To my own surprise, I had fun today. I expected to be preoccupied by the stares and whispers surrounding me, not just because of my scar, but because of my name. Once upon a time I was an up and coming ballerina, destined for stardom, and a fall from that sort of height is news in itself, never mind the awful circumstances that caused it. I’m thrilled no one recognized me.

  “Sure. Just let me know what day.”

  “I’ll text you,” she promises, and flashes a smile before heading to teach her next class.

  Maybe it’s because I managed a day in public without wanting to crawl under a rock somewhere, but I decide I’m not ready to go home. It’s getting cooler by the day and I really need to shop for some new winter clothes.

  Sadie picks up the phone on the first ring. “Hey, woman. Are you still working?” I ask, unlocking my car.

  “Nope. Had an early day. What are you doing?”

  “Just thinking about heading to the mall. Want to meet me?”

  The pause in her response is long enough that I start to wonder if the call dropped. “You want to go to the mall? Voluntarily?”

  “I need some clothes, and I’m starving. I want one of those giant cinnamon rolls from the food court. You want to come or not?”

  “Absolutely, just had to peek out the window, see if there were any flying pigs in the area. Meet you there in twenty?”

  “Very funny, bitch. I’ll be by the north entrance.”

  Sadie bounds up to me a few minutes later, her blond hair whipping in the wind, and links her arm through mine, leading us inside. “So, does this guy you’re ‘sort of’ talking to have anything to do with why you’re suddenly willing to shop in the middle of the afternoon?”

  “No, that’s no big deal, I told you.”

  “Have you actually met him face to face yet?” she asks, as we grab our cinnamon rolls and sit at a nearby table.

  “Uh…yeah. He brought me dinner.”

  I stop there, but I know Sadie will never let me off that easy. “And?”

  “And he kissed me,” I admit, feeling my cheeks heat when I recall what the kiss lead to.

  Nearby customers glance in our direction when she squeals. “You slept with him!”

  “Sadie! Shut up!” Christ, tell the whole mall. “I didn’t sleep with him. We just…I mean…he just,” I stumble over the words, finally leaning toward her to whisper. “We made out and he fingered me, okay?”

  Her smile is wide and mischievous. “I’ll bet it was way better than okay. Damn girl, he’s a pile of sexy. Did you, you know, return the favor?”

  “No.”

  “Why the hell not?” She pops a chunk of cinnamon roll into her mouth.

  “His friend showed up.”

  “Cockblocked. Bummer. So, when are you going to see him again? We should go to the spa, get you a wax, do our nails, the works.”

  I knew Sadie would run with the information. I love how excited she gets, it’s part of what makes hanging out with her so fun, but I don’t want her to get carried away. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.”

  “What, why not?”

  “We’re too different.” I shrug, keeping my eye
s pointed at the shoppers flowing by.

  Sadie sighs and shakes her head. “Bullshit. You’re making excuses. You’re scared.”

  Damn it. I can never put anything past her. “He didn’t see me naked, just slid his hand down my shorts. Once he sees me, it won’t go well. I’d rather have a good memory of him, and maybe be able to keep talking to him occasionally.”

  “Just because one asshole was too blind to see what you have to offer doesn’t mean they’ll all react that way.”

  Rationally, I know she’s right, but she has no idea how it feels. The only guy I dated after my injuries showed me exactly what to expect. His name was Lawrence and we met a few weeks after I was released from the hospital. Back when I still bothered to wear makeup, spending hours finding the best way to cover the facial scars as completely as possible.

  They were still discernible, but not as instantly visible as they are without makeup. We dated for a few weeks, and everything was good until the first night I brought him home with me. No amount of concealer can cover the marred skin that runs down my right arm and covers my ribs on that side. Luckily, my neck escaped damage, but my right shoulder bears skin that’s crumpled and misshapen.

  I knew before we even finished fucking that he was done. I didn’t miss the way he winced when he saw me bare. His eyes were closed most of the time and he was careful not to touch me anywhere near the scarred tissue. Blurting a lame excuse about having to work early the next morning, he couldn’t get away from me fast enough after we were done, and I never heard from him again.

  That was when I knew I had to accept the harsh reality. This is my life. I’m lucky to be alive, and generally healthy, but some things are always going to be off limits to me, and sex is one of them. Oh, I’m aware there are guys out there who would still fuck me. Let’s be honest, most men will fuck anything with a pulse and a wet spot, but I can’t stand to have sex knowing the guy is disgusted.

  “I know,” I answer Sadie, tucking my hair behind my ear. “But have you seen this guy?”

  “Yes, and that’s why I know you need to climb him like a tree.”

  Laughing, I take the last drink of my soda. “You’re crazy. Now, let’s go spend some money. My jeans don’t fit, and I’m tired of pulling them up.”

  “Skinny ass.”

  “Jumbo tits.”

  “Don’t hate,” she giggles, and we head for the department store.

  * * * *

  It’s late when I get home and I’m relieved when I make it inside without running into Dare. I’m not ready to face him yet. His apartment has been quiet, so I assume he’s not home when I crawl into bed, but his deep voice travels through the wall seconds after I lie down.

  “What are you wearing?”

  Maybe if I just ignore him, he’ll get the message.

  “Hmm…no answer. Maybe you’re naked.”

  Shoving the pillow over my head, I try to block him out.

  “If you don’t answer me, I’m going to assume you’re naked. No wait. You’re naked except for the whipped cream.”

  Now, I’m fighting not to laugh.

  “I can’t be ignored, Ayda. I know lots of annoying songs. I’ll sing until you answer me.”

  There’s no way I’m answering now. I want to see if he’ll actually sing.

  “Okay, darlin’. You’re forcing me to do this,” he warns, amusement thick in his voice.

  I expected a rendition of one-hundred bottles of beer on the wall, or something similar, so the unexpected sound of Rebecca Black’s Friday catches me off guard. I’m sure he can hear me laughing as he runs through the whole song and then begins again. I wonder how long he’ll really keep it up?

  “Okay, shut up!” I laugh, when he begins again for the fourth time.

  “Well?” he asks.

  “Well, what?”

  “Are you wearing only whipped cream?”

  Smiling, I pull my comforter to my neck. “Of course, that’s what I always wear to bed. Plus a couple of chocolate kisses.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  I can’t tell if he’s serious or still screwing with me. “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m exhausted. I’m going to sleep.”

  His bed creaks and I picture him rolling over. His ass looked amazing in those boxer briefs and my mind conjures an idea of how it’d look bare. “Did you work today? What do you do?”

  “No, I didn’t work today. I’m a graphic designer, and I dabble in marketing a bit.” My curiosity outweighs my desire not to encourage him. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a hacker.”

  Again, I have no idea if he’s serious. “So, I should worry about my bank account and change all my passwords?”

  He chuckles, and I picture his smile. It’s really not fair for a man who looks like him to also have the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen. “Your accounts are safe. I work in cyber security.”

  “You work from home?” I ask, surprised we may have that in common.

  “Sometimes. Depends on what I’m working on.” He’s vague, and his tone shows me he really doesn’t want to elaborate even before he changes the subject. “So, what did you do today?”

  “A friend of mine asked me to come in and teach a dance routine to one of her students, then I hung out with a friend.”

  “You dance? What style?”

  “I used to dance ballet, but the dance we’re working on is contemporary. Her student has a competition coming and needed some help.”

  “A dancer,” he groans. “That explains your tight little body. How am I supposed to sleep now? All I can picture is you in only a tutu.”

  Hearing him describe my body is bittersweet. I do have a well-toned dancer’s figure, but it’s sure not what he’s picturing. “I don’t wear a tutu.”

  “In my spank bank you do.”

  “Oh my god. You didn’t just say that.”

  “Naked in a tutu moaning for me when you come, just like last night.”

  I’m so torn. Part of me wants to go over there, strip naked and ride him like a two humped camel out of Egypt, but I just can’t. I don’t want to see the revulsion on his face when his fantasy dancer turns out to have a body like Freddy Krueger. “I’m going to sleep now.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. It was hot as hell. Next time I want to hear you scream my name.”

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  “Like hell there won’t.”

  “Good night, Dare.”

  “Good night, Ayda.”

  Chapter Six

  Dare

  “Are you sure about this guy?” Landon asks. All the members of ISH are gathered at our new headquarters, and I’ve spent the last few minutes vouching for Tucker. Justus and Jeremy are on board, but Landon is a bit skeptical.

  “As sure as anyone can be. He’s killed to protect a woman. He’s not going to turn us in for protecting children. Also, he was a soldier, so he knows how to handle himself.”

  Landon’s girlfriend, Zoe, cuddles up to his side. She’s the only one outside of our group who knows what we do. We intervened when her brother’s boyfriend was being abused. I never thought Landon would settle down with a woman, but watching him with Zoe makes me think of Ayda.

  There’s so much she doesn’t know about me, and though I want to get to know her—and fuck her brains out—I’m afraid to let her get too close or learn too much about me. She’s sweet and kind. I doubt a criminal ex-con would be her type.

  I finally get a reluctant nod from Landon and he asks, “Do you want me to go with you when you take Tucker out to the farm?”

  His gaze travels to Zoe and back to me, and I know he’s hoping I’ll pass on that offer. I swear he tries to spend every minute with that girl. Don’t get me wrong, Zoe is great. She has no problem hanging out and she can throw our bullshit back at us without hesitation. I’m happy for Landon, even though it means we don’t get to hit the bars like we used to.

  “No offense, but I’d rathe
r take him in the daylight.”

  “Poor raisin,” Justus teases, faking a mournful tone. He’s joking around like usual, but I know Jed is still on his mind.

  “Fuck off, stripper,” Landon replies, slinging his arm around Zoe. Landon and I have been friends since we were kids. He has a genetic disease that prevents him from going outside in the daytime. The smallest amount of sunlight leaves him with severe burns and a high risk for skin cancers.

  “I’ll go if you want. I’ve got nothing going on today,” Jeremy volunteers. “We can hang out and drink a few beers, get to know the guy.”

  “Sounds good. Meet me out there about four?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I turn to Landon. “Justus told me about the new forum. You think you’ve discovered a trafficking ring?”

  “Looks that way, but we need a lot more info. If it is a ring, they cover their tracks well. I hacked in and lurked last night. Lots of talk about seasoning a new addition who got caught reckless eyeballing.”

  Christ. Seasoning is synonymous with torture, both mental and physical, to get the victim to obey with questioning. Victims are instructed to keep their eyes on the ground. If they make eye contact with another pimp, they can become his property. Fucking crazy shit.

  “Do you need me back here tonight?”

  “Nah, get the new guy settled. I’ll catch you up tomorrow if there’s any news.”

  Tucker is sitting under a tree across from my apartment when I return, and he hops in my passenger seat when I wave him over. I pull into a gas station to fill the tank and grab a twelve pack of beer. “My buddy Jeremy is going to meet us there. He works with ISH as well.”

  “How many are in your group?” Tucker asks, as I pull back onto the highway.

  “Four. I’ll take you to meet Landon one night. He has a genetic disorder and has to stay out of the sunlight. Plus, he has a new girlfriend.” I wave my hand.

  Tucker laughs and nods. “Nothing makes a guy go MIA faster.”

  “She’s cool, though. She also knows what we do, but she’s the only one outside the group.”

  Tucker eyes me for a few moments. “Are you seeing Ayda?”