by Nikki Wild
"I’ll make sure you’re safe" I said softly, hoping my words were lost in the engine rumble once I’d said them. It was a big promise to be making, especially considering what it would mean.
I was off the hook though, since it didn’t seem like she’d heard me. Kara put her hand on the window, and it looked like she was tracing the constellations with her finger. "You can see so much sky out here, can't you?"
Not for the first time, I wondered if she had a concussion. What was this daydreamy shit? People out here didn't talk like that, and I got the impression that she normally didn't either. “You mean the stars?”
“Yeah.”
I shrugged. “I guess the sky above New York City is pretty empty, huh?"
She nodded. She was still staring wide-eyed out the window when she started to open up to me.
“So what happened out there on the road?” I asked, changing the subject.
“The bikers came out of nowhere. I didn't know what to do. I figured they wanted the car, but I wasn't going to just give it to them. A few of them pulled up alongside me. One of them took out a gun. He aimed it at me, maybe just for show… I think he shot my tire... I don’t remember anything else. My head is still throbbing.”
I felt my grip on the steering wheel tighten. This was the sort of shit that Reed and his Reapers had been pulling the past few months. Good old fashioned highway robbery. I wasn’t about to tell her that I knew exactly how things had went down.
I wasn’t going to tell her she wasn’t the first person I’d pulled out of that ditch, and I wasn’t going to tell her about what was supposed to happen next. They’d run her out of town just like all the others and that Bentley would be in a thousand little pieces.
I wasn't going to let that happen to Kara. She hardly seemed innocent, but whatever amount of business knowledge and corporate cutthroat instinct she'd gathered in New York, I didn't think it would translate very well to Silver Creek.
We had our own rules here.
I cleared my throat. "You were saying something when I pulled you out of that wreck. Somewhere you had to be…"
Kara nodded. "I'm running a conference. Everyone's going to be there. Dolce and Gabbana, Yves Saint Laurent, everyone. It's make or break for me."
I gave her a smile that I didn't feel. I hoped it looked genuine enough, though. I didn't really want her to leave, not so soon after meeting her. But this place was dangerous, and if her life really was hanging in the balance, there was no point in her wasting any of it with me. "You should get there as fast as you can. The guys that did this are dangerous."
Kara shrugged. "Yeah… But to be perfectly honest, I could use some rest tonight. I can figure out what I need to do tomorrow. A couple of hours of sleep will do me a world of good. I don't think I've slowed down in…" Her voice trailed off, and I could see her nose wrinkle the way people's do when they're doing a little bit of mental arithmetic. "Four years? Almost five?"
I let out a low whistle. "That's more than dedicated," I told her. "That's just plain bat shit crazy."
"I'm starting to think that you're right. I feel like someone pulled my plug and my batteries are draining."
"The motel isn’t far. Just hang in there.”
"Okay," she said.
Kara shifted in her seat, laying her head gently against the cold glass of the window on her side. I felt bad for her. I could tell that she was running under an incredible amount of stress. A woman like that, so driven and ambitious, she must feel like the whole weight of the world was pressing her flat.
Of course, that didn't stop me from letting my gaze slide up her parted thighs and shifting into a higher gear in the hopes that the roar of the engine and the roughness of the road would inch her skirt up even higher on her tender flesh.
Chapter 7
Kara
Even with my eyes closed, I knew that Dane was checking me out. I was too tired to stop him, and some small part of me didn’t want to stop him.
But taking a minute to enjoy Dane’s attention wasn’t going to solve my bigger problem.
How on Earth was I going to get to Orlando on time?
I suppose there was an easy answer to that question. I wasn't. The conference would go on without me, and every little mistake or hiccup or schedule clash would be blamed on me. I could see it now. My bosses would shake their heads at each other slowly across the table and mentally draw a line through my name.
I could forget about my new career. Forget about the dream of launching my own company. The fact that I wouldn't get a chance to pitch to the investors after the conference was going to be the least of my worries.
After this debacle I'd be lucky if I had a job at all. Worse than that, I doubted anyone in the fashion industry would be bold or brave enough to touch me with a ten-foot pole.
And I suppose I wouldn't blame them. I'd had six months to prepare, and even though I had a magnificent guest list, an immaculately prepared venue, and tons of interesting workshops and informal meet and greets, I hadn't trusted anyone to work on it with me. I'd locked myself in my office and done all the work on my own. Whenever help was offered, I turned it down. I knew I could handle it, but with every refusal I’d put more and more of the pressure on my own shoulders.
That meant I was the only one taking the blame if everything came crashing down.
I wanted to lay down and close my eyes. I wanted to sleep forever, to tell the truth. I didn't want to die, of course… I guess I just wanted to sleep so long that I could wake up and really be someone else. A chance to start over… That was what I needed.
"I know what you're doing," I told him, my forehead still pressed against the glass of the passenger window and my eyes still shut. "Don't think for an instant that I don't."
I couldn't help but smile at the little jolt in his driving. I'd startled him. He was afraid I was going to call him out for eyeing me up, and I let him think that until he finally said, "Yeah? What am I doing, exactly?"
I decided to let him off the hook. He wasn’t a bad guy, and the feeling of his gaze on my body reminded me that there was more to my life than just work. At least, there could be if I let it… "You’ve got some deal with the motel owner. You get a kickback. I'm sure tow truck drivers all over the country have the same type of deal. A little gentleman agreement with rental car places and motels and mechanics? If there’s a better place to stay anywhere nearby, I’d rather you take me there… I’ll pay you."
He chuckled, and my smile got even bigger when I heard the relief in his voice. "I wish that were true, but it isn’t. There’s only one motel out here and they won't give me any extra for bringing you there. Doesn’t matter though. I’ll sleep better knowing you have four sturdy walls and a roof over your head."
I sighed. I didn't want to be looked after like this, but it was really nice for someone to care about my fate.
I couldn’t remember how long it'd been since someone had. Three years? Four? I'd spent so much time working my ass off that I hadn't even realized how many of my friends and family I was cutting off until they were gone. Christmas cards and birthday texts and the occasional Facebook update were the only ways I stayed in touch with them now, and even that was starting to dwindle.
I was alone in the world, and even though I'd chosen career over a personal life I was still surprised at the lump that appeared in my throat when a complete stranger told me that he gave a shit whether I lived or died.
Dane reached over and turned on the radio. I sat up a little straighter and looked over at him, rubbing at my eyes with my fingertips. A country tune spilled out of the surrounding speakers. Something about someone's dog, or maybe it was his pickup. Either way, the singer preferred its company to his wife's.
“Have you called the police yet?” I asked quietly. I started fumbling around for my cellphone.
“Won’t do any good. Nearest trooper is probably sitting in bed seventy miles from here, and besides, what are you going to tell them?” Dane replied.
“I’ll tell them I got shot at!” I said incredulously.
“And he’ll smile and go on his way. This isn’t the big city. Things work a little different down here. Those bikers have deep connections and you’re just a out-of-towner with a blown tire. It’d be better to let me get you back on the road.”
I took a moment for his words to settle in. "Do you really think you can fix the car?" I finally asked.
He shrugged. "Depends on what parts I can scrounge. I'll do my best. If it's just something that takes a little know-how and some elbow grease, I could probably get you back on the road. If not…" He let his voice trail off.
I knew he wasn't trying to make threats, but the way that sentence ended sounded like one, anyway. I thought back to what the guy at the rental counter had said, that he'd need to run a credit check to make sure I could pay for repairs. The machine hadn't worked, which I’d considered a blessing at the time.
I sure wasn't thinking that now. If Dane couldn’t fix it I was going to have to worry about a lot more than just losing my dream along with my job. A rental car place that had cars as expensive as the Bentley would have an equally expensive lawyer. I was sure they wouldn't hesitate in suing me into the ground. I'd be lucky if I ever earned another red cent and got to keep it…
"Can we… I mean, could you…" I was struggling with my words around him, which made me angry. Yeah, he was a hot guy, but so what? I'd spent an entire six months in Italy dressing hot guys only a summer ago. Attractive men were nothing new to me, certainly not in my line of work.
But there was something different about Dane. Something more… grounded. More down to earth. The models that I dealt with had charming grins and dancing eyes, but they were one hundred percent fake. They knew they were attractive, and they could turn those smiles on and off at a moment's notice. They were physically attractive, but you could see that they were using their looks as tools or worse, as weapons.
Dane wasn't like that. He was ruggedly handsome, but he wasn't perfect. I saw tattoos spilling out from underneath his sleeves, and now that I looked closely in the light of the dash, I could see that his hands were crisscrossed with old scars. The history of a hard life was written on his skin.
There was something honest about the way he looked. Something that told me that he just happened to look like a Greek God. If he could choose not to, maybe he would. Either way, I didn't think that he was going to use those looks against me. As tired and beat up as I felt right now, I’d probably fall asleep even if he tried to have his way with me. The body may be ready, but my mind was exhausted.
I caught myself grinning. Who was I kidding?
"You were saying?" he asked, jarring me out of my head and pushing my thoughts away. I had been trying to tell him something, but my inner monologue had gotten away with me. There was just so much going on in my mind right now, it was hard to keep my thoughts straight.
Besides, it wasn't just how gorgeous he was at that made me not be able to ask him the question. I didn't like feeling like I was going to have to ask someone to do me a favor, especially when that favor may well be illegal. "I was just wondering if you and I could keep this crash between us. At least for now, until we see if you can fix the damage. The rental company is probably going to charge me a fortune if they find out about this.”
Dean nodded. He didn't even hesitate. The way he brushed off my words with a shrug and a simple, casually honest grin told me that he didn't care much for the rules of big corporations in the first place. "I'll do my best to get you on your way. Just don’t go pointing to me if they notice the repair."
I nodded enthusiastically. That was exactly what I wanted to hear. Maybe there was a chance I could still make the conference.
In fact, as the bright lights of a mostly run-down motel rolled into view and Dane stopped the tow truck outside of the front office, I wondered if things weren't starting to look up.
Not a lot. Just little…
But maybe enough, just the same.
Chapter 8
Kara
Stop feeling awkward, I told myself. It was a losing battle. I felt like Dane was dropping me off at the end of a first date.
There was just something about him… He was a guy I could trust. That protective comment earlier had hinted at something more. He may have been rough around the edges, but Dane was looking out for me.
Still, there was a darkness in his eyes sometimes. I didn't know what else he was wrapped up in, but I was starting to suspect that it wasn't all legal. The way he'd been on the scene without me even needing to call and… and the quick, efficient way he'd checked on me before loading the Bentley onto the tow truck. Was it a set up?
Come to think of it, he’d asked about the bikers before I’d even told him. How did he know?
Something told me this wasn’t the first time it had happened…
Was I being naïve? I mean, here I was in a tow truck, sitting next to a man I didn't even know. He could have given me a false name. He could have given me any number of lies and I'd be none the wiser.
I couldn't help but turn around and glance through the back window at the Bentley, sitting in the center of the tow truck's bed, albeit slightly slanted because of the exploded tire. Was this the last time I’d see it? Would Dane abandon me in this shitty motel and make off with his prize?
"I'll keep it safe, I promise," he said, practically reading my mind.
Of course, that's just what a liar would say too, now wasn't it?
"I really do hope so," I said. "I'm not sure of its exact value, but I know there's no way I could ever repay the company if something happens to that car. Hell, I’m not even sure how I'm going to pay you when you repair it, but I promise I'll make good. I always make good."
He gave me that grin that I was starting to think of as his trademark and let his hand drift to my knee, which he gave a friendly squeeze for second. His palms were rough. The calluses and scars I’d taken notice of earlier were certainly earned, but now I questioned whether or not the work was honest.
"I won't do wrong by you. I promise," he said.
I wanted to believe it. I had to, really. What other choice did I have? I didn't know anyone here. I wasn't even exactly sure where 'here' was. And it wasn't like I could drive the Bentley off the back of the tow truck and call someone else.
"Dane," I said, shifting in my seat so much that I pointed my knees at him. I was careful to keep them together, but I didn't miss the way his gaze dipped to my thighs once more. So what? Let him look. God knows I've done my share of drinking in his muscles during the ride. All's fair in love and war...
“I know,” he told me. “You don’t have to say it. I can see it in your eyes. You're going to have to trust me. I have an idea of what this trip is worth to you, and I'll do my damnedest to make sure that your car gets fixed and you get back on the road. You have my word.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“That may not mean that much to you, but you can take it to the bank. Give me a call when you wake up. I'll look after you until your car is fixed." He handed me his business card, and I took it gratefully. At least now I had some contact details. If things went wrong, I’d have someone to point the police toward.
Of course, I chided myself, it isn't as if someone could have lied about their name and their phone number on a business card. You're good as gold, girl!
Those were the type of thoughts I just had to ignore. They weren't going to do me any good, and there was nothing I could do to change my situation right now.
Besides, there was every chance that if I didn't get out of this tow truck and rent myself a room, I'd fall asleep right here in my seat.
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind then a wave of exhaustion hit me. I felt my eyelids actually flutter, and I gritted my teeth and reached over to him.
I wanted to touch his face, the way I had before. I wanted to lay my palm against the stubble of his cheek, and feel the warmth of him. Dane was so real. He was so d
ifferent to everything I knew.
But how many times in my life had I reminded myself that ‘you don't always get the things you want’? Instead, I stuck out my hand so that I could shake his, just like we were ending a business meeting. “I'll give you a call in the morning, Dane… I’m sorry… I didn’t get your last name?”
I looked down at the business card. There was no last name there. It was just 'Dane'… and a phone number. And the words, 'Tow Truck Driver'.
He shrugged. " What can I say? Everyone around here knows me…"
I laughed. I had to. It was just so ridiculous, making a wild road trip to Orlando and getting stuck here, having to trust this man after being attacked by… whoever they were. "Dane it is then. Thank you for everything, so far. Be careful with the car, okay?"
He nodded before putting taking my little hand in his big one and shaking it. I could tell that the formal gesture was almost completely alien to him, but he did it for my sake.
"Until tomorrow," he said.
I nodded. When I reached over to open the door, I was surprised at how easily the latch popped open in my hand. The tow truck was much higher than I remembered when he'd helped me climb into it, and between my tiredness and the angle that the truck was sitting, there was one instant of frightening vertigo as I felt myself tipping out. I imagined myself spilling out onto the pavement in front of the motel, bloodying my knees or worse, my face.
But, as much as I hated to admit it, my hero saved me again. Dane caught me by the elbow and held me tight, easily preventing me from tumbling free.
Dane gave me a second before letting me go. “Do you want me to walk you in?"
I shook my head, embarrassed. "No. I'm just a klutz, that's all. I might hang out with a bunch of guys and girls who can walk the fiercest catwalk you've ever seen, but my momma always told me if I had to walk a straight line I'd need three tries. I'm okay."