Steal The CEO's Daughter - A Carny Bad Boy Romance

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Steal The CEO's Daughter - A Carny Bad Boy Romance Page 18

by Layla Valentine


  Cassandra started to protest, but the words stopped short of her lips as she felt the rasp of Jack’s stubble against the back of her neck, the surprising softness of his lips pressing a kiss along her hairline.

  The part of her brain that insisted she should resist fell silent, and Cassandra gave into the deeper instinct of her body, twisting in his arms, longing to feel that delicious hardness pressing against her back, against the curve of her ass. One of his hands began to slowly drift downward, tickling her abdomen, sliding underneath the waistband of her pants.

  His fingertips brushed against her slick folds, and she heard a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, Cass. You’re soaking wet already—you must have been fantasizing about this ever since I grabbed you, huh?”

  Cassandra awoke with a start, her whole body tingling, heat rushing in floods through her veins, her breaths coming short and fast. She opened her eyes and looked at the passenger seat—empty, save for her purse, the pack of cigarettes and the lighter. She was soaking wet, her body almost painfully aroused.

  She gasped, reaching into her purse and fumbling for a moment, still half-asleep. Her fingers found the handle of the screwdriver she had stolen and pulled it free of the bag and Cassandra turned her head to face the backseat. Her blood roaring in her ears, she realized that she was alone in the car—it had just been a dream.

  She closed her eyes for a moment once more, shivering as she pushed down the intense arousal that had risen up inside of her, under the influence of her dream’s phantom caresses.

  Wait, she thought abruptly, opening her eyes once more. I’m alone in the car.

  She sat up, scrubbing at her face, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess of insufficient sleep. Aches began to make themselves known in her body; a few hours of sleep in the driver’s seat of her car had not been enough to make up for staying up for more than twenty-four hours.

  Jack was nowhere to be seen. One of the back doors of the car was open, and for a moment Cassandra was convinced that the fugitive had made an escape, leaving her alone in the woods. Her grip tightened on the screwdriver. A moment passed, and Cassandra heard the sound of water flowing onto leaves—someone was pissing into the underbrush nearby. Of course, she realized; it wasn’t as though Jack had had a real opportunity to use the bathroom at any of the few stops they had made on their bizarre adventure.

  The crunch of dead leaves under heavy feet warned Cassandra that Jack was returning to the car. Quickly, blushing at the instinct that had prompted her to take her impromptu weapon out in the first place, she slipped the screwdriver back into her purse, trying to shake off the last remnants of her incredibly vivid dream.

  I’m losing my mind, she thought. Having crazy sex dreams about convicts—this is how Stockholm Syndrome starts.

  A moment later, the car shifted and groaned, and Cassandra turned around to see Jack sliding into the back seat. He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve lost that cute little toy you put in your bag to deal with me,” he said, his lips twitching in an almost-smile.

  “Toy…?” Cassandra’s heart beat faster in her chest.

  Jack leaned back against the seat, folding his arms.

  “The screwdriver you got at the gas station. I figured you picked it up in case I lost my mind and tried to murder you.”

  Cassandra’s whole face burned as the blood rushed into it, and she clenched her teeth. How did he know about that?

  For a long moment, silence stretched out between them, and Cassandra couldn’t quite bring herself to meet Jack’s gaze. She realized that if Jack had wanted to kill her, then at any point when she had been asleep he could have. Hell, he could have taken me as soon as I walked into my apartment, or when we got to his storage unit, before Riley came to. It’s not like he’s squeamish about violence.

  “Do you really think you have it in you to kill me?” Jack asked.

  Cassandra finally summoned up the courage to look him in the eyes.

  “If you tried to kill me or—or something else…” She licked her lips as her cheeks heated up again. “Yeah, I think I could.”

  Jack nodded slowly. “Fair enough,” he said, the faint ghost of a smile on his lips, a hint of respect in his piercing blue eyes. “Come on. We need to get back on the road.”

  Cassandra reached down and pulled her seat back up into its upright position. She looked around, trying to figure out how she could navigate back onto the path.

  “I’ll get you out. Just do exactly what I say.”

  With Jack’s instructions, Cassandra got the car turned around and back onto the path. Her mouth tasted sour, her neck and back ached. She had the strong impression that her deodorant and perfume had worn off hours before, but it was the lingering dampness of her labia which felt dirtier than anything else. Squirming slightly in her seat, she made her way back onto the road in silence.

  As she drove up the country road leading towards the Interstate, Cassandra considered everything that had passed between her and Jack in the hours they had been together. She had seen him on the point of torturing someone, only to back off when it became clear that Riley was innocent. She had trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence, though that was as much because she was simply too exhausted to stay awake a moment longer. Back in the storage facility, Jack had trusted her enough to let her witness what could have been a very ugly—and supremely incriminating—moment.

  Of course, I was his getaway driver. He couldn’t exactly let me wander off. But he trusted me enough to let me—to make me—be his getaway driver.

  Ever since she had found herself pinned to her kitchen wall, a hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming, a question had been simmering at the back of Cassandra’s mind. Between her fear, confusion and utter fatigue, she hadn’t yet let herself think about it, much less ask it of the man himself, but now that she was certain that whatever else happened in the course of their adventure together, Jack hadn’t started out with the intention of killing her, Cassandra was free to wonder: why had he picked her?

  “Hey,” she said, flicking on her turn signal as she approached the highway entry ramp. “I have a question for you, if you’re willing to answer it.”

  “No promises,” Jack said from the back seat.

  Cassandra shrugged. “Why did you choose me to accompany you on your…mission?”

  She glanced in her rearview mirror, finding Jack’s face. An expression like amusement flitted across his face for just an instant.

  “You really don’t know?”

  “No,” Cassandra admitted. “I mean, I helped the cops put you away. It seems like a strange choice to me.”

  “You’re smart, Cassandra,” Jack said. “I checked your stuff out—lots of free time in prison. I know you do your research. Even with my case, it wasn’t like you just jumped to the conclusion that I must have murdered Laura Granger. You looked at the evidence, the things you’d seen, and you talked to people… You took all the information that was available and came to the conclusion that it pointed to me being the killer.”

  “But you’re insisting that you’re not,” Cassandra pointed out.

  “That’s because I know I’m not the killer,” Jack explained. “If I were in your position, hell, I’d probably think I was lying. But you, you keep your mind open and examine shit. You base your opinions on facts, and you never assume anything of anybody. I figured that was a good trait to have in someone who I needed to help me.”

  He paused for a moment and Cassandra wondered if that was all he intended to say.

  “Other than the NYPD, Laura, and her killer, you’re the only one that knows so much about the case. And obviously, it’s not like I can go to the police; they decided a long time ago that it was me. The system doesn’t work once it’s already convicted you.”

  “That makes sense,” Cassandra agreed.

  She could see how it had to look for someone like Jack. He could try as hard as he could to get an appeal, but withou
t new evidence no judge was going to grant it, and the police—even the best of them—were not interested in looking like they’d made a mistake and gotten the wrong guy. The whole system was stacked against people once they’d been convicted. Hell, even once they’re accused, Cassandra thought, remembering some of the other cases she had covered in her time at the newspaper. The law was supposed to assume that a person was innocent until proven guilty, but the police assumed that whoever they arrested was guilty of something, and if that happened to be the crime in front of them, so much the better.

  “Of course,” Jack added, “it doesn’t hurt at all that you’re hot as a five-alarm fire.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Okay,” Cassandra said, glancing in the rearview mirror, “explain to me why we’re going back into Manhattan, where tons of cops are no doubt still looking for you?”

  Good question, Jack thought. He had been considering the issue of the police ever since he’d given up on the idea of Riley being involved in framing him. He couldn’t think of any way around it, they were going to be taking a big risk.

  “The next name on my list,” he said simply. “A guy named Lenny.”

  “So if Riley’s supposed beef with you was that you destroyed his relationship, what’s the deal with this Lenny guy?”

  Jack stretched against the seat cushions, remembering the man’s sallow, discontented face. It was easy to picture Lenny the way he’d seen him last: dirty and disheveled, bruised from a rough takedown, screaming obscenities as Jack led him into the police station.

  “He’s one of my bounties,” Jack explained. “It’s been a little while now since I caught him, but he’d definitely want my guts for garters.”

  “What was he arrested for?”

  Jack combed his fingers through his hair, yawning as the car swayed on the road. “Drugs,” he said. “He was a big guy in…used to be coke, but by the end he’d graduated to meth. And a little pot, on the side, I think.” He shook his head. “He was arrested after being set up in a sting operation. He managed to make bail, but of course, idiot that he is, tried to dodge the trial.”

  “In your case, they didn’t let you out on bail because they figured you’d run, and as a bounty hunter, you’d know better than the usual criminal how to evade the cops,” Cassandra said.

  Jack shrugged. “It was a fair assessment. I wouldn’t have split, though.” He laughed bitterly. “That was still when I was convinced that the legal system worked the way it should, nine times out of ten at least. I figured there was no point running and implicating myself when I knew I was innocent. And surely my lawyer would be able to prove I didn’t do it, right?” He let out another laugh, shaking his head.

  “So, why would Lenny—of all the people you’ve taken down—set you up? I mean, if you’re going with former bounties, there’s got to be at least a dozen more candidates, right?”

  Jack shifted onto his side, tilting his head enough to catch a glimpse through the windows. They were still on the Interstate, but then they’d driven hours away from the city to get to Riley.

  “He’s a scumbag,” Jack told her. “A real rat. I know Riley turned out to be a pretty decent guy...” Jack paused and considered for a moment. “But Lenny is a total bastard. He told me when I was bringing him in that he’d do whatever it took to get back at me.”

  “But you’ve got to hear that all the time,” Cassandra insisted.

  “You get it a lot of threats, in my line of work,” Jack agreed. “Nobody running away from the law wants to be caught, and they run for all kinds of reasons you wouldn’t want to hear about. But Lenny…he had a history of his enemies conveniently ending up either dead or having the dime dropped on them.

  “After I handed him over, they took him in, but he was out again real quick. Fancy legal team or something—justice works if you can pay for it. But I heard through the grapevine that he’s fallen on hard times since then.” Jack shrugged, bringing his arm up to cushion his head. “Even if he could have walked out of that courtroom a free man, he’d want me dead, just for fucking up his escape. Now that he’s out, and not doing well, he probably blames me for screwing his life up, and wants to get even.”

  Jack pressed his lips together, thinking back to hunting down Lenny; taking him down where he’d hidden—in a church, for crying out loud.

  “Where did you hear about him being on hard times?”

  Jack smiled bitterly. “Prison. Where else? A ton of his associates are in there. That bunch might not be the most reliable source, but they were the best one I had available to me.” Jack rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks and jaw. “They told me he’s holed up somewhere, doesn’t get out much nowadays. Like I said, he’s not smart. I can bet he’s lying low in the hole he was living in before his life went to shit. Finding him shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “Well, you’re in charge,” Cassandra said nervously.

  Jack looked up into the driver’s seat and watched her in profile for a few moments. “I’d bet good money that Lenny was involved in this somehow,” he said. He snorted, remembering the payout he’d gotten for Lenny, back when he’d captured the scheming, thieving rat. “I don’t know if he was the one who actually killed Laura, but it’s good odds that he had something to do with framing me.”

  “If he’s on the list, you do what you need to do, I guess…”

  Jack smiled to himself, turning his face towards the seat cushions to hide the expression in case she decided to look into the back. She’s tougher than she seems, he thought. In a different situation… He let the thought break off, suppressing even the slightest hope that if they’d met in different circumstances, something could have happened between them…

  Keep your head in the game, Jack. Focus on what you need to be doing here. She’s hot, she’s capable, and she knows the facts. She’s not your girlfriend.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cassandra looked up at the enormous buildings that surrounded them, forming a canyon of concrete, steel and glass. The building Jack had guided her to was not at all the sort she would expect someone to be “holed up” in—it was one of the grandest high-rise residences in Manhattan.

  As they walked toward the entry, Cassandra could see guards dotted around, at the door and stationed around the lobby. It definitely wasn’t a promising situation; she couldn’t imagine that there was any decrease in security in the rest of the building.

  “What are we going to do?”

  Jack smiled slightly, leading Cassandra passed the entrance, toward the next building down, before turning sharply down the adjoining alley.

  “They always forget about the roof,” he said simply, gesturing to the fire escape ladder system along the exterior of the neighboring building. The area near the dumpsters was deserted. Cassandra wrinkled her nose at the stench coming from the garbage nearby.

  Jack reached up, jumping slightly to catch the bottom of the ladder to tug it down to the ground. Cassandra looked up at their route doubtfully; if she had been fleeing a fire, she was sure it would seem a lot safer than what was behind her, but from the stability of the street, it looked rickety and dangerous. Nonetheless, as Jack started climbing, Cassandra followed, telling herself that if nothing else, it would make for some excellent details in her article.

  She lost track of the number of ladder rungs she climbed; a few of the levels had slightly rusty stairs instead of a ladder, which at first seemed more comforting until the wind came up as they got above the fifth floor, and the whole fire escape seemed to tremble.

  She looked up ahead and caught sight of Jack’s muscular legs, his firm ass, several feet above her, and as her palms went slick with sweat she told herself to focus; it was not the time to let her mind wander. Falling from the tenth story to crash onto the street below was not the kind of headlines she wanted to make.

  “You okay back there?”

  “Yeah,” she called up, wondering when Hardy had started being concerned about her welfare.

  C
assandra’s mind began to wander again. If Lenny was on Jack’s list, wouldn’t it be a natural thing for the police to stake out the building? Then there was the matter of the security force she had seen on the ground floor—what if they needed to get out in a hurry?

  She lifted herself onto a landing and saw that they were nearing the top of the fire escape. Jack had come to a stop, and Cassandra peered up to see what the cause might be, noting that he didn’t seem to be the least bit fatigued by the exercise.

  “The last part is going to be tricky,” Jack told her, looking slightly amused.

  “What do you mean?”

  Jack pointed upward, and Cassandra followed his gesture. Above the stairs, there was a gap, and then a final ladder leading to the roof of the building. Cassandra’s mouth fell open as she took in the size of the gap.

  “That can’t be safe.” She glanced down at the corrugated metal beneath her feet and looked through the landing at the ground below.

  “They don’t really plan on people being on the roof,” Jack pointed out. “Besides, if you’re going down it’s not nearly as dangerous as trying to get up.”

  Cassandra took a slow, deep breath, biting her bottom lip.

  “You’re sure this is the best way?” she asked.

  Jack nodded. “You should go first,” he told her. “I can help you onto the ladder that way.”

  Cassandra looked at him doubtfully for a moment longer, then shrugged. I’m already way too deep in this. It’s not like I can really back out now. She started up the steps, aware of Jack behind her. She thought fleetingly that she could feel his gaze on her back, feel it shifting down to take in her legs, and—for just a moment—her ass.

  She put the thought aside. Her throat felt dry and tight, and her heart had begun beating faster in her chest. She turned around carefully, and saw Jack step onto the landing with her.

  “Okay,” he said, looking at her intently for a moment. “I’m going to need you to trust me.”

 

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