Probably not.
“You’re quiet,” she said.
“It doesn’t happen often. I’m processing. I mean, I’m stuck. I want you. I love hanging out with you. You’re smart and funny and selfless. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Beyond that, it’s too early. I don’t know what’ll happen. I know I don’t want to walk out this door. I want more of whatever this is. And that usually doesn’t happen. It’s gotta be good, right?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes it ends up being painful. I don’t think either one of us wants that.”
“Hell no. But sometimes it winds up being great. I think we could be great. You get me. You get that I run my mouth and you’re not afraid to tell me when I’m pushing too hard. And I love that I listen when you tell me. Usually I don’t listen. I press on because I need the attention and I lose sight of the boundaries. I guess, with you, I know I have your attention.”
“That, you do.”
He held his hand palm up on the table. “What do you think? Can we give this thing, whatever it is, a try? I won’t stomp on you.”
He’d try damned hard. That he knew. She slid her hand over his and squeezed. “You may not be able to control it. When you leave, I might be heartbroken.”
“But when I leave, it might not be for good. We don’t know yet.”
Come on, Kris. Step to the plate. Would giving him a chance be so wrong? He had a feeling they might be the perfect storm.
“Well, I have a great steak here that my chef prepared. How do you like it?”
He grinned. “Medium well. You?”
She shrugged. “It’s been so long since I’ve eaten steak, I’m not sure.”
“So, you were going to cook me a steak and not eat it?”
“Yes.”
Twisted. “No. You need to eat some of it.” He held his thumb and index finger up and squeezed them together. “Just a little bit. The protein is good for you. Then we’ll go for a walk so you don’t feel guilty about eating. How’s that? A good meal, a little exercise. It’s perfect.”
A plate covered in foil sat on the counter and she glanced at it for a long moment. Come on, Kris, eat the steak.
She turned back to him. “Let’s try it. See what happens.”
Chapter Twelve
At nine the next morning, Billy stood on the fringe of the Dante parking lot, scanning his surroundings. Five guards were stationed throughout each quadrant of the exterior lot and the parking garage had two more guards monitoring the exit. He almost wanted the beefheads to attempt a breach of this set-up.
Early sun slipped through cloud cover warming him in spite of a fifty-five degree morning. Once the clouds burned off, it would be another great day in paradise.
I could stay here.
He breathed in the moist ocean air and let the idea of squatting in South Beach burrow farther into his brain. The idea was definitely growing on him.
And it wasn’t all about the weather.
Kristen Dante had a boatload to do with it, but he didn’t want to spend too much time analyzing it or he’d scare the crap out of himself. Not doing that. He’d do what he always did and roll with it. Where he landed, he landed.
Right now, he had to deal with this parking lot. The Secret Service had arrived at 8:00 a.m. and Kristen got right to reviewing the security procedures he had suggested. Hopefully, all would go well, she’d pass muster and Billy wouldn’t get his ass handed to him because his plan sucked.
He knew it didn’t suck though. Vic, Mike Taylor and Monk had declared it solid.
Still, the way Billy’s luck was running, he could see a bunch of cars getting boosted the day the Secret Service was on site.
His radio beeped and he slid it from his belt. “What’s up?”
“Not sure,” Keith said. “A car came in the southeast entrance a few minutes ago. Two young guys. They parked and are sitting there.”
Young guys. Didn’t sound like the beefheads. Adrenaline poured into Billy’s body, that amazing fix for his action deprived psyche, and he sprinted along the outer edge of the lot toward Keith’s location. This might be it. A chance to nab these fudgers. When he got within range, he slowed to a walk. Just a vacationing guy strolling by. He turned his back to the lot and buzzed Keith on the radio.
“Don’t approach me. Act like I’m a guest. Where are they?”
“Blue Volvo parked in row H. Third spot from the left.”
“Got it. Go to another area of the lot. Let’s see what these guys are up to.”
Billy kept walking, but peered at the blue Volvo from the corner of his eye. He reached the far corner of the lot and ducked behind some cars to make his way back to row H.
One of the guys—definitely not one of his buddies—got out of the car, a set of keys in his hand. He wore a blue sweatshirt and yanked the hood up.
Game on. Gotcha, you rat bastard.
Billy’s body hummed but he stayed crouched between two vehicles waiting to see where R.B. went. Finally, he’d nab this guy.
R.B. walked roughly fifty feet to a BMW 7 series sedan. A bleep-bleep pierced the air as R.B. unlocked the car and jumped behind the wheel.
That fucking simple. Unbelievable.
Billy radioed Keith to grab the other guy, snatched his nine-millimeter from the holster at his waist and exploded from his spot, hauling ass toward the Beemer.
The young guy hit the gas when he saw Billy jump in front of the car. Don’t you run my ass over.
Screeching tires fired a brain synapse—the guy in the Volvo bolting—but his eyes remained fixed on the kid in the Beemer.
“Hands up! Now.”
R.B. threw his hands up and Billy stepped over, gun still raised, to open the door.
“Hotel security. Out of the car.”
The kid, who couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old, did as he was told. “You got ID to prove this is your car?”
Silence, but junior’s gaze shot left and right.
“Don’t try to run,” Billy said. “There are guards everywhere.”
“Shit.”
“You’re not kidding.”
Thirty minutes later, Detective Wilson strolled into the Dante security office, saw the hoodie-wearing toddler and said, “What have you got?”
Billy had already checked the kid for weapons and parked him in a chair, but the kid wasn’t talking. Nor did he have any ID.
“You’re looking at what I got,” Billy said. “I caught him trying to nab a car. The car is registered to a guest from Alabama. We located the owner via cell phone. He was walking on the beach when our Boy Scout tried to take the Beemer for a spin. Owner’s never seen this kid before. And yet, he had a key to the car. He has no ID. His buddy was in a blue Volvo and scrammed before we could grab him. We got the plate.”
Wilson took the note with the plate number. “They’re probably stolen anyway. Has he said anything?”
“Other than ‘shit’? No. I told the security team to leave him until you got here.” Billy grinned. “Didn’t want to screw up anything by violating his rights before you Mirandized.”
Wilson twisted his mouth. “Thank you.”
Billy jerked his head to the hallway and Wilson followed him out. “Can I watch when you question him? I’m trying to figure out how the hell these guys are getting car keys.”
Wilson hesitated and Billy jumped in. “I did you a large by calling off the security team when they wanted to question him.”
Letting out a breath, Wilson said, “Awright. But you’ll watch on a monitor. It’ll be my ass if I let you sit in.”
“I’m good with that.”
“Let’s go then.”
“Hey, what are the chances these cars could be getting smuggled out of the country?”
Wilson shrugged. “In Miami? Anything is possible.”
* * *
After a long day with the Secret Service, Kristen decided the drive home would require more energy than she could summon and opted to stay in her sui
te at the hotel. Despite a foiled car theft, which the Secret Service never knew about, the security plan had been cleared.
Mission accomplished.
Billy had promised her he’d be by to give her an update on the car theft suspect, and, with that in mind, she’d opted to forego her normal ratty shorts and T-shirt. Instead she chose a nicer pair of ratty shorts with a nicer T-shirt. She’d even made it one of the plunging V-necks he liked. Why not? Give him a thrill.
A knock sounded, she checked the peephole, found Billy on the other side and opened the door. He held out his hand. Hanging from two fingers was a black blindfold.
She couldn’t wait to hear this one. Slowly, she took the blindfold from him. “And? What?”
He jerked his head toward her hand. “You’re going to have sex with me while I’m wearing that.”
Blood surged, but she remained frozen in her spot, rooted like a hundred-year-old tree, her limbs too heavy to move. Was he really standing in the hallway of her hotel proclaiming they’d have blindfolded sex?
Her mouth moved, but the words stayed trapped inside her throat. She tried again and managed a gurgling noise. A hard slap of her hand against her chest knocked the temporary paralysis loose.
She grabbed his arm, hauled him in and checked the corridor. No one in earshot. “You’re in the damned hallway.”
“Sorry. I got excited.”
“I realize that, but a little restraint would be nice.” She threw the blindfold at him and made her way to the sofa.
“Come on, Kris. This is a good plan. I wear the blindfold and you don’t have to be stressed about me seeing you naked.”
She laughed. Typical man. Anything to get a little.
“No, seriously. This is not bullsh—er, dung.” He whapped himself on the head. “I figure if we can get you comfortable being naked in front of me, you’ll relax and go with it.”
“And this has nothing to do with the blindfold being a little kinky?”
He grinned. “Can we say bonus?”
She grinned back. “Can we say no?”
He dropped onto the couch. “M.H., you’re being too hasty here. This plan has its merits.”
“You’re insane.”
“Pfft, what’s your point?” He slid the blindfold over his eyes. “With this on, I can’t see anything. Whaddya say?”
Tilting her head, she examined him sitting there, looking beyond ridiculous in that blindfold while he waited for her to respond. Clearly, he was serious. How incredibly funny. And, in an off way, thoughtful.
She puckered her lips, took a tiny step forward and waved her hand in front of his face.
Nothing.
Gave him the finger.
Still nothing.
If he could see anything, he’d be laughing by now. Maybe he had something here. This blindfold might work.
“You still there?” he asked.
“I’m here.” Losing her damned mind for even contemplating this idea. Billy Tripp was already creating chaos in her busy life. If she had sex with him, she’d get attached and then she’d be a goner. Total destruction.
But a man who looked like him, all wide shoulders and perfect cheekbones was hard to resist.
He snapped the blindfold off, wiggled his eyebrows. “How about it M.H.? Are we on?”
No. “I don’t know.” What? “It’s a little weird.”
“It is not. People do this all the time.”
“Please. I do not want to have that conversation with you.” Definitely didn’t need to know about his past sexual exploits.
“I know you’re thinking about it.”
She laughed. “I’m totally thinking about it. And I’m not happy.”
He sighed and gently rested his forehead against her stomach. Something in that small gesture seized her and she lifted her hands, set them on his head. Total destruction.
“What will get you over the finish line?”
Why would she want to cross the finish line when it terrified her? “Tell me about the car thief.”
Billy lifted his head, stared up at her like he hadn’t quite heard. Yes, she owed him an answer. If she couldn’t give him that, she should at least explain. “I need a minute, Billy. Tell me about the thief while I think about you in my bed.”
He smacked his hands together. “Now we’re talking. His name is Calvin Dobbs. He turns seventeen next week. He lives in Disciples territory.”
“A gang member?”
He nodded. “The cops can’t prove it. He’s never been arrested, but he was questioned about a robbery last year.”
Kristen sat on the arm of the sofa and propped her feet on the cushion next to Billy. “Barely seventeen and stealing cars? What a waste.”
“Outside of that, the cops didn’t get much from him. They turned him over to his parents but fully expect to see him again at some point.”
This was her fear about Manny. She hoped that sweet boy never wound up in a gang. She’d make sure of it. Even if Manny’s mother had to work long hours, Manny would be tended to.
“Do we know how he got the car key?”
Billy shook his head and ran his finger along her calf, making squiggly lines as he went. The sensation tickled, but the intimacy of his hands on her skin warmed her girl parts.
“He wouldn’t say. The kid is probably too terrified to talk. Wilson says he’ll probably get probation, which means his gangbanger friends will love him for not being a rat and he’ll continue on his path of criminal activity.”
Kristen slid to the sofa next to him and commandeered his wayward hand. “So, from what you know, does it help with your investigation at all?”
“Not sure. I need to get into your conference room and add the latest car information to my board. See if there are similarities anywhere. I’m gonna check the GPS on Alex again, see if he’s made any interesting stops. Tomorrow I’ll retrace his steps again.”
“We can head down to the conference room if you’d like.”
But if the solid stare he gave her was any indication, Billy had no interest in the conference room.
“In a while. Let’s talk about my brilliant blindfold idea. How close am I to the finish line?”
She rolled her eyes. “Getting closer.”
“Excellent.”
She backed away. “I opened a bottle of wine.”
“Good for you.”
He made a move for her neck and she nearly jumped off the sofa. “Want a glass?”
“No, but you should feel free to consume all the alcohol you want.”
She made her way to the wet bar. “Thanks so much.”
“We’ll get you good and relaxed.”
“How very unselfish of you.”
“I do what I can.”
After pouring her wine, she sat at the other end of the couch.
“Really?” he said. “You’re going to sit all the way over there? After I got you cleared with the Secret Service today?”
Leave it to him to blackmail her with the Secret Service. She inched closer.
“That’s so wrong.”
She scooted a little closer. “No cars were stolen today, so I’ll give you another couple of inches.”
He must have had enough and slid next to her. At least he kept his hands to himself. “Your security for the event is in place. Vic has a guy down here who helped us put a team together. I’m meeting with them tomorrow to go over everything.”
“Thank you. You’ve saved my butt on this Secret Service thing.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to compensate me.” He nudged closer, leaned forward and kissed her neck.
The man had great lips. Those lips traveled down the side of her neck, across her jaw, until he reached her mouth, where he nibbled on her bottom lip.
She slid her arm around his shoulder and held him there.
“She’s weakening,” he sang.
“Filter.”
“Sorry.”
He glided his hand up her waist—please don�
�t press too hard and feel the fat—to her breasts and hesitated. She didn’t stop him and felt him smile through the kiss. And then his palm was flat against her breast, pressing, and her girl parts required oxygen. Copious amounts.
“Happy girl parts,” she said.
He snorted, which, had it been anyone else, would have been a tad awkward. With Billy, it seemed status quo.
She retreated. “Get that blindfold out before I lose my nerve.”
He held it up and grinned. “Right here, babe.”
Figured. “Here’s the plan. You get into the bed, put the thing on and then I’ll get naked.”
“No. How about, I get into bed and you keep your clothes on. Then we can take them off piece by piece. I have this whole fantasy going about you stripping in front of me.”
“Billy, you’ll have a blindfold on. What does it matter?”
“Hey, it’s my fantasy. Stop ripping it apart.”
He made his way to the adjoining bedroom, stripping his shirt off as he walked. Oh, to have that confidence. When he got to the bed, he dropped his jeans and slid off his underwear. Just like that. No hesitation. Then again, if she were built like him, she’d probably have no problem getting naked.
And staying that way.
Well, it could be a goal. Something to work toward.
He snapped the blindfold on and dropped spread-eagle on the bed, his erection poking straight up in the air. “Service me.”
Kristen slapped her hands over her face, her cheeks ablaze. “You can’t just lay there. It’ll make me nervous. You need to participate.”
“I’ll participate. Just start stripping. How about a little music. Something stripperish.”
Not a chance. Still, she sat on the bed, snatched her iPod from the dock and chose a playlist that included Michael Bublé. “It’s not stripperish, but it’ll do.”
She glanced back at him lying there, flat on his back, his gaze—had he not been blindfolded—pointed to the ceiling. She leaned over and kissed him, let her hand travel down the smoothness of his chest and over his perfect pecs. She fiddled with the gold medal hanging around his neck. “You’re so beautiful.”
I can’t believe he wants me.
“Eh, everything landed in the right place.”
Adrienne Giordano Page 15