Because I Can

by Lisa Renee Jones

  He folds his hands together in front of me and my gaze goes to his pinky finger, seeking the ring on Allison’s Instagram, but it’s not there. “I’m sure Tyler told you that and plenty more,” he assumes.

  My gaze jerks from his hand to his icy gray eyes. “Tyler told me nothing. I’m resourceful on my own.”

  “Gossip gets around,” he says, clearly jabbing at my resourcefulness.

  I slide right by that remark. “I hardly call the staff knowing a high-profile client, gossip. Who are you to Allison?”

  His eyes darken. “No one she would walk away from.”

  “Because you’re rich and powerful?” I challenge.

  “Because I’m an asshole she couldn’t possibly want for more than money and power?” he counters.

  His expression is unreadable but there is something about the inflection in his voice, the darkening of his eyes that tells a story I cannot quite read. In that moment, I wonder if the man in the journal could be him, not Tyler. Except that in the journal the man left her, not the other way around. Unless, the tide shifted, and she got tired of his games and walked away herself.

  “I know nothing about you,” I say.

  “I’m all over the press.”

  I think of Dash’s fight coverage Bella set up and say, “I have no doubt. But none of that is the real you.”

  Adrianna sets my coffee down next to me and then eyes Brad. “Can I get you something, sir?”

  “Nothing,” he says, and to my surprise, he looks at her and says, “Thank you.”

  It’s the first sign I’ve had that this man is human, and I’m not quite sure how to define him now more than ever.

  Adrianna smiles at him and walks away. Brad reaches in his pocket and sets a card in front of me. “If you talk to her, text me. I’ll pay you well for the contact.”

  “I don’t want your money. And I don’t know if she wants to make contact. But I’ll tell her how much you do.”

  He studies me several beats and then inclines his chin. He starts to rise but hesitates, long enough to meet my stare and say, “You have her eyes,” before he’s on his feet, striding away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I watch Brad Waters exit the coffee shop, with his words in my head: You have her eyes.

  I’m officially creeped out. I shake off the meeting and when I face forward again, it’s to realize that Dash is now standing above me on the opposite side of the table. “Hi,” I say, blinking him into view, only to realize that aside from looking like a tall, delicious drink of hotness, he’s scowling.

  He sits down in front of me. “What the hell was that, Allie?”

  “He called and—”

  “He called and the guy who creeped you out convinced you to meet him? And you didn’t call me?”

  “You were in a meeting with Hollywood, Dash, and I knew I’d be safe here. And he’s a client of Hawk Legal. I’m doing my job.”

  “We both know you meeting him was not about your job. What the hell were you thinking, Allie?”

  “You’re being confrontational, Dash.”

  “Because I won’t sit back and let you get hurt.”

  “He’s just worried about Allison. That’s all that was.”

  “Is he? Because my man looking into her location can’t find her. At all, Allie. She’s a little too MIA for either of us to feel comfortable. And right now, Brad’s reading like a stalker.”

  “You’re worried about her, too, now,” I say flatly. It’s not a question. It’s just me saying out loud what I already know. I’m not crazy. Something is wrong. Something happened to Allison.

  “Right now, I’m worried about you,” he says. “You know you resemble her, right? And before you read into that, I mean, just enough that you fit a type. And I don’t like that.”

  “He said that, too. Brad. He said I look like her.”

  His expression tightens. “Did he now?”

  “Yes, and while that sounds creepy all over again, I know, I don’t think he hurt her. He wouldn’t be looking for her if he knew where she was.”

  “Or maybe he would. You have no idea the things I’ve seen. Don’t do something stupid like this again.”

  “Stupid?” I demand, bristling all over again. “Did you really just say that to me, Dash?”

  “Your actions, not you, Allie. I’m protecting you. We’ve had this conversation. I’m going to protect you, Allie. That’s non-negotiable.”

  The bells on the door chime and I draw in a breath, trying to calm myself. I know Dash is worried about me and while that feels good, I’m also sharply and acutely reminded of that need for control he possesses. A need that comes from a dark place of pain and torment, that I can’t begin to understand but I believe it has to do with loss and death. Which means caring about me and believing I’m in danger in some way, has triggered him. But him being triggered is triggering me as well. I ran from my past, and part of that past was the control everyone but me had over me, to the point that I didn’t even recognize myself. And while I know that’s not Dash, I know that’s not his intent, right now, I just need a little space.

  I need to breathe.

  “I’m going to freshen up,” I say, grabbing my purse.

  I don’t wait for his reply. I’m already on my feet and walking in the direction of the bakery’s private bathrooms, my heart racing, and my hands all but trembling. Dash affects me, intensely and emotionally. I react to him in a big way that is good and bad. Good in that I’m alive with him, I’m all in with him. Bad in that he can cut me with a word, hurt me without even trying. I turn left down the hallway and then right again, and when I’m finally almost to the sanctuary of the women’s room, where I can just pull myself together, Dash is suddenly there, catching my arm and rotating me into him.

  “Don’t run, Allie,” he says, backing me against the door, his big body aligned with mine, his thighs capturing my thighs. I’m angry. I’m aroused by his nearness. I’m angry because I’m aroused when I should only be angry. Even angrier over the whole running thing. “Stop saying that to me.”

  “You’re always one push from being out the door. We just did that. Are we going to do it again?”

  “You’re pushing now,” I say. “That’s the point. You know you’re pushing me. Is that what you want? Because we both know whatever this is, doesn’t fit into your rule book for women.”

  “The rule book was gone the minute I met you, Allie. And damn straight I’m pushing you, but not away. To be safe.”

  “It feels like more.”

  “Because you want it to.”

  “Because it is,” I insist.

  “No. You’re looking for a reason to run.”

  “Oh my God, stop saying that to me, Dash. Because I’m angry at you does not mean I’m going to run or stop lo—” I catch myself before I confess way too much, before I confess my love for him. What am I doing? I try to deflect from my slip up. “Stop saying that to me.”

  He reaches around me and opens the door. Before I know his intent, we’re inside the tiny bathroom meant for one, and he’s locking the door.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “We can’t be in here, Dash,” I whisper urgently. “Adrianna will be looking for us.”

  “And yet, we are,” he says, his fingers tangling in my hair, tilting my gaze to his as he says, “I’m just making sure you know there’s nowhere to run. I’ll follow. That’s what you’ve done to me, Allie. That’s how much you’ve taken from me.”

  “Taken?” I demand. “That’s what I’m doing?”

  “Yeah, baby, but it had to be that way. And I like it. Say what you were going to say. You’re not going to stop what?”

  “Wanting you.”

  His lips curve, his breath a warm tease on my lips. “Well just know this, Allie, I won’t stop wanting you either.”

  My God, did we just tell each other we love each other in a public bathroom? “Dash,” I whisper. “Dash, what are we doing?”

  “This,” he sa
ys, and his mouth closes down on mine again. And just like that, he’s kissing me with such intensity, such passion, I can only moan. I have a vague moment when I realize this is still about control. His control, not my control. The problem is I like it when he’s in control. I like his kisses. I like the way his hands feel on my body and when my skirt is at my waist, and only when my skirt is at my waist, do I jolt back to reality. I catch his wrists. “We can’t.”

  “Until we do,” he says, cupping my face, kissing me again, Lord help me, his hand is between my legs, pressing under the silk of my panties. His fingers glide through the wet heat of my body and I moan into his mouth. He shocks me then by ripping away my panties. I gasp with the unexpected action, but already he’s lifting me, sitting me on top of the bathroom sink. His hands are all over me, and somehow my blouse is open, my bra shoved down, to the point I might as well not be wearing it. His fingers are on my nipples, teasing them, pinching them.

  He consumes me oh so easily, but I don’t fight it. I’m done resisting.

  I reach for him, my hands sliding under his shirt, and we’re instantly frenzied, both of us shoving his clothes until his pants are down and he’s hot and hard and pressing inside me. Dash scoops my backside, his hands on my now naked backside, and lifts me, folding me into him. Now he’s holding both our weights, when he leans against the wall, anchoring us, and I don’t even know the person doing this right now.

  I’m leaning backward, with nothing but his hand between my shoulder blades holding me up, my breasts thrust in the air, my hips thrust against him and I ride him right here in the bakery bathroom. It’s insane. I’m insane. But I don’t care. I lose myself in the pleasure, the moment, the man and it’s over way too fast but probably not fast enough considering our location. We are fast and hard and wild until we’re both panting and I’m leaning into him, my arms wrapping his neck.

  Dash shifts our weight and helps me to my feet. Wordlessly, we put our clothes back together before he cups my face and stares down at me. “I’m sorry. I know I pushed hard. I just—I can’t—I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  The words “I’m sorry” surprise me, and speak to the many layers that represent this man. The gentle, demanding, intensely talented man who’s taken my life by storm. The man who has loved and lost, who can’t bear the idea of losing someone else. “I’m sorry, too. I know I scared you. And I do appreciate you worrying about me. But you did push hard.”

  “I don’t like Brad Waters’ obsession with Allison, that doesn’t fit his persona. And I especially don’t like that obsession turning on you.”

  “I don’t think that’s what’s happening.” I hug myself. “Is it?”

  His hands come on my arms and he says, “We’re not taking any chances. Until we find Allison, I want you to be careful. And stop asking around about her. Let Neil—that’s my former FBI buddy—do the asking around. Promise me.”

  “Yes. Of course, I promise. I’m not trying to be stupid. That’s why I’m here, where I knew people.”

  “I shouldn’t have used that word. I would never call you stupid. I wasn’t calling you stupid.” His lips curve and he rubs my cheek. “You have lipstick all over your face. I’ll leave you to fix that. I’ll be at the table waiting for you. Our table. I’ll move your stuff over.”

  “Our table?”

  “Yeah, cupcake. Our table. That okay with you?”

  “Yes,” I say. “It is.”

  He strokes my face and when he would turn, when he would leave, I’m overwhelmed with emotion. I catch his arm, halting his exit, and when he looks down at me, I say, “I have no idea why I just stopped you. I just wanted to say something else—”

  He cups my face and kisses me. “Yeah. I know. Me, too. But I better go before we get more attention than we need.”

  I nod and he releases me, exiting the bathroom. I follow him and quickly lock up behind him. My God, what am I doing? Aside from having sex in a public bathroom and almost telling Dash I love him. And I do. I love Dash Black. I haven’t let myself go there, but it’s too late. I’m there. I can’t turn back and all despite the fact that Dash and I have a cycle starting. We fight, we have sex, we mend. Repeat. Apparently, no matter where we are at the time. And not for the first time, I’m certain that Dash and I are both broken, so very broken.

  And I just don’t know if we are fixing each other or breaking each other.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Cognizant of the time I’ve been in the bathroom, I quickly mend my face and self-consciously exit the bathroom with hurried steps that lead me to the bakery dining room. And as if having sex in a bathroom, in a place friend’s own, isn’t transparent enough, there’s no discreet way to join Dash because Dash isn’t alone. Adrianna is behind the counter, but her dear hubby Jackson is standing by our table, chatting it up with Dash.

  Drawing in a calming breath, I close the space between me and them, immediately drawing both men’s attention. Dash offers me a sympathetic look and says, “I was telling Jackson here how you tried to put makeup on my eye.”

  I slide into the seat across from Dash. “I’m not sure he’ll believe you considering how bad it looks right now.” I glance at Jackson. “Hey, Jackson.”

  “Hey there, Allie. And yes, indeed. I do believe you failed, missy.”

  “Yes, well apparently he wears a different shade than me,” I say, rolling with the punches better than expected. “Who knew, right?”

  Jackson chuckles. “Yes, who knew. But if you’re going to let him keep going to that boxing ring, you might better find his shade, too, and keep it on hand.” He squeezes Dash’s shoulder affectionately. “Talk about keeping the research real, man. Maybe a little too real. I’ll get you that coffee and cupcake.”

  He heads out and leans in closer to Dash. “I swear he has to know.”

  “Nah,” he says, blowing off the concern. “The eye thing worked like a charm. Can you stay here and work with me this afternoon?”

  “I wish I could, but it’s nuts at the office, the auction is coming together though. In a big way, actually. I need to go back and help Katie, especially if I’m going to New York with you.”

  His eyes warm with approval. “I want you to go to New York with me so I’ll walk you back to the office.”

  “You stay here and write your book. I’ll be fine. It’s a short walk.”

  “I’m walking you,” he says stubbornly, standing and calling out to Jackson. “Hold on that order. I’m walking her to the office. I’ll be right back.”

  I don’t fight the offer. There are things we need to talk about, some at home when we’re alone, and some right now. Dash grabs my coat and helps me put it on, while he sticks with the blazer he’s wearing. That Boston blood of his is warm, I guess. We exit to a clean afternoon as a group of kids wearing costumes walk by. There’s a pinch in my chest and out of nowhere, I think about having kids with Dash. My God, I’m going too far.

  I shove aside the thought and fall into step with Dash. “Your friend—”

  “Neil,” he supplies.

  “Neil,” I repeat. “He’s really concerned about Allison?”

  “Concerned enough to want to dig deeper,” he says.

  “Should we go to the police?”

  “The red tape there is so thick it might as well be stone. Let Neil see what he finds. Give him a few days.”

  “I know I’m a broken record, but I think something happened to her.” I halt and we face each other. “You do, too. That’s why Brad didn’t sit well with you.”

  “Obsession that isn’t me with you or you with me, doesn’t sit well with me.”

  There is that word again, my thoughts exactly. Is that what this is, I think. Is that all this is? Obsession?

  “No,” he says. “No to whatever you’re thinking.”

  “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

  “Yes, I do. And no.”

  We study each other a moment, that battle back at the bakery still between us bef
ore we silently turn and start walking again. After a few beats, I shift to another important topic. “How’d it go with Hollywood?”

  “There will be a crapload of legal mumbo jumbo, but it looks like we might not even end up with the studio I went to LA to meet. We have multiple bidders, the most appealing is a streaming service. They want me to get involved with the production, for authenticity.” He laughs. “Apparently my black eye reminded them of my hands-on experience.”

  “Oh wow. Well, there’s a bright side to all of this, I guess. And what did you say?”

  “I don’t like LA. At all. I don’t like the politics of Hollywood, either. But I promised to look at the offer.”

  “That’s exciting,” I say. “I mean, Dash. A TV show. In today’s streaming world that’s almost bigger than a movie. Ghost will be happy.”

  “You have no idea,” he says dryly. “As soon as the announcement is made, he’ll contact me.”

  “That’s kind of crazy. An assassin will contact you. You don’t think he’d ever—”

  “Hurt me?” he asks, glancing down at me. “No. I feed his ego and he likes it.”

  “Yes, well you talked about obsessed,” I say as we step to the Hawk Legal front door. “You and Ghost are basically obsessed with each other.”

  “I’m obsessed with you, baby,” he says, sliding a hand to my lower back and leaning in low, near my ear, to whisper. “And I’ll be thinking of you in that bathroom all afternoon.” He eases back and warm eyes meet mine. “Hurry back. Pick me up in the car. I want to see you behind the wheel.” He winks and then he’s gone, walking away, headed back to the coffee shop.

  I watch him, and all his swagger and confidence, and think again, I love this man. I really love him. I sigh and come back to the present as the back of my neck prickles, as if I’m being watched. Which is crazy. This Allison stuff has me on edge, but it does Dash as well, I think. And that tells me I’m not paranoid. Maybe someone is watching me and I don’t like that idea. I turn and hurry inside the building.