Taking Control (Kerr Chronicles #2)

by Jen Frederick

  “Melinda.” Her friend says in warning but the woman shrugs her off.

  “Please,” Melinda pleads. What else can I do? I go and sit down, but I perch on the very edge.

  “He’s wonderful isn’t he?” Her lips are trembling with the effort to keep her sobs in. I’ve never seen anyone look so amazing while crying. She looks like a kicked puppy.

  “Yes.” I find myself nodding to her. “He’s truly wonderful.”

  “So thoughtful and tender.” She sighs.

  “Yes, very thoughtful and very tender.” I hide my impatience. It’s one thing for her to be sad that she’s not seeing Ian anymore, but if she starts talking about their sex life I’m out of here. The friend gives me a pained look, clearly wishing to be anywhere but here.

  “I remember—”

  I hold up a hand because I don’t want to reminisce with her. “I’m sorry that you’re sad, but I hope you can appreciate that talking about what you did with my current boyfriend is really not cool. If you have something you want to say, then say it, but I’m not going to sit here and listen to you tell me about how much better you are for him than I am.”

  “Oh,” she cries in surprise. “I wasn’t going to say that at all. I just . . . I just miss him so much. I’ve never had a better boyfriend. He’s ruined me for all other men.”

  I run an agitated hand over my forehead, searching for the right words so that I don’t come off as an utter bitch. But Ian is mine and I’m keeping him, no matter how sad this chick is. “I’m sure you’ll find someone perfect for you, but Ian Kerr is mine now. And since you know how wonderful he is, you also know that I’m going to fight to keep him. I’m not going to tell you to stay away because that’s stupid. Just know that he’s in love with me and we’re going to get married and have a family.” The marriage thing might be a slight exaggeration. He’s mentioned it, but I don’t have a ring on my finger.

  A gasp sounds in the room as if everyone has drawn in a breath.

  “You guys are getting married?” Sarah cries.

  I bite the side of my lip. What did I just say? I nod because it’s true. If I believe that Ian is sincere, and I do, then it’s all true. “Yes.”

  “If he’s said he wants to marry you, then he must,” Melinda says with a wail. “Because he never lies. He’s always completely honest with you.”

  Her friend pulls Melinda in for a comforting embrace and mouths, “I’m sorry.”

  I grab Sarah’s hand and scoot out of the bathroom as fast as possible. “That was the single most awkward experience of my life.”

  “Hey, at least you know he’s a good guy.”

  “One that ruins girls for all other men. Shit, if Ian ever left me, I’d be like that too.” I press a hand to my racing heart.

  “Given that he wants to marry you, I don’t think he plans to leave.”

  “I’d seriously fight for him.” I smooth back my hair. “Against anyone.”

  Sarah leans against the wall and looks at me with envy. “I want what you have.”

  “Let’s get back. I have a pressing need to stamp my ownership all over him.”

  As we’re walking through the crowd, someone bumps me hard, almost turning me around. Before I can see who it is and yell at them for being rude, I realize that the person pressed a crumpled up piece of paper in my hand.

  “What is it?” Sarah asks, coming to look over my shoulder.

  “A note, I think.” I open the paper and hand it to Sarah to read. There’s no way I’m going to make out any letters in this light. “Read it for me.”

  Do you really think a stupid bitch like you can hold Ian Kerr? Leave him or you’ll be crying just like the brunette in the bathroom.

  “Shit,” Sarah says, stuffing the note back in my hand. “Those bitches. We’re going after them.”

  “No,” I put my hand on her arm. “That wasn’t from them.” I scan the crowd looking for my target, but I’m not sure who I’m looking for. A woman, I think. It’s the same person who left me the message in Jake’s office, I know it. It’s the same type of wording. The same paper. I bet if I had it tested it would be the same ink and the same handwriting. This has to do with Richard Howe. I know it. I just know it.

  CHAPTER 8

  IAN

  “Maybe you should just tag her,” Kaga suggests as I watch Tiny and her friend thread their way through the crowd toward the bathrooms.

  “Is that what you’ve done with Sabrina?” I don’t take my eyes off Tiny’s sexy ass. If she didn’t have a friend with her, I’d meet her at the bathroom door and drag her into a stall. A skirt could be very convenient in a nightclub. I’d have to remember that in the future when we weren’t patronizing bars with glass floors.

  “Don’t need to. She’s at Columbia.”

  “Damn, Kaga. Even though I didn’t go to college, I know that there are more temptations there than there are in this entire bar. You’re insane if you think that she’s completely untouched simply because you know her general whereabouts on a college campus.”

  He glares at me, his dark eyes narrowing. “What do you know?”

  “Jake says she’s having a great time. She’s been spending a lot of time with a DJ. Plays at one of your clubs, in fact.”

  I shouldn’t enjoy needling Kaga so much, but shit, if he plans to sit back and wait for his girl to ripen like a peach and fall into his waiting hands, he’s more than insane. He’s certifiable.

  I’m about to launch into a sustained discourse on the futility of waiting when Tiny and Sarah appear at the table. Kaga and I both rise to allow the women to take a seat when I notice the tight expression on Tiny’s face.

  Before she can sit down, I cup her elbow and draw her toward me. As gently as possible, in direct contradiction to the fury that’s generating inside me, I ask in a low voice, “Everything all right?”

  Either I’m not quiet enough or Sarah can read my concern because she pipes up. “Just bathroom gossip. Nothing serious.”

  I give Sarah a nod but the only person I care to hear is Tiny.

  “It’s nothing, Ian, really.” She slides into the booth next to Sarah. A server brings another round of drinks for the table, but Tiny doesn’t reach for her Singapore Sling. Instead she picks up my whiskey and takes a deep gulp.

  “Why don’t I show you the owner’s lounge,” Kaga invites Sarah, trying to give Tiny and me some privacy.

  Sarah scoots out immediately. “I’m yours.” Before Kaga can take her away, though, she turns and leans across the table. “There were two women in the bathroom. One had dated you in the past. She started crying when she saw Tiny because apparently you were the best boyfriend she’d ever had. She’s never been able to maintain a steady relationship with another guy since you broke up.”

  Tiny presses her lips together and nods her head in confirmation.

  Sarah went on. “She wasn’t mean or anything. Just really, really sad. We all felt bad for her. She wished Tiny luck and said to do what she could to hang on to you.”

  Kaga’s face is impassive but I sense humor lurking behind his eyes. I’m going to get shit about this at the next poker game.

  “Come along, my dear,” Kaga murmurs, tucking the brunette’s hand into the crook of his elbow. “The two lovebirds need a moment.”

  I lay my arm across the back of the banquette and curl my hand around her shoulder. “Is this something we should talk about?”

  She tilts her head back and takes a deep breath. “I just felt bad for her. We all did. The entire bathroom started sniffling.”

  “I hope you didn’t offer me up as appeasement,” I joke lightly.

  “How long did you date Melinda?”

  Melinda? I roll her name around in my head but it doesn’t ring any bells. “I can’t remember,” I say honestly.

  “She’s gorgeous. Looks like a model. Probably s
ix inches taller than me. Long brown hair. She had it in a high pony.” Tiny puts a fist on the top of her head to mimic the hair of this unknown girl.

  “I don’t know if this will make you feel better or worse, but I don’t actually know who you’re talking about.” A few stray hairs have fallen forward on her face. I brush them back, dragging my thumb across her cheek.

  “How can you not remember her? She said you were her best boyfriend.” Tiny’s frown is not soothed by a few tugs of my thumb.

  Snatching up my drink, I down the contents before responding. “I didn’t have girlfriends, bunny. I dated women. We enjoyed each other for some period of time and then we went our separate ways. At times, we simply used each other for pure, safe physical release.”

  “But you said you weren’t a manwhore.” She’s puzzled because her paradigm consists of a steady relationship or a nonstop stream of hookups.

  “I wasn’t. I don’t enjoy casual sex. It’s better when you know the person, but knowing a person and sleeping with them doesn’t a relationship make.” I don’t like the distance she’s putting between us. I slide my hand around the curve of her waist and pull her to me. With a finger under her chin, I tip her head so she can look me in the eye. “I’m thirty-two, almost thirty-three, and I’ve had my share of encounters with the opposite sex and some have been more casual than others. But no one I’ve ever been with has been anything like you. I don’t remember other women. I don’t want to. Melinda obviously remembers me because she hasn’t had anything better. That’s on her.

  “You’re the best I’ve ever had, Tiny. In bed and out of it.” I grin roguishly, memories of some of our activities outside the bed tripping through my mind. I can see by the flush in Tiny’s cheeks she’s sharing similar visions. “When I close my eyes, I think of you, and the only memories I have are those I’ve made with you.”

  “How?” she looks bewildered.

  “Because I make it so.”

  She lets me capture her mouth for a long, drugging kiss. With steady pressure I affirm all the words I’ve just stated. She’s the only one I want now and forever. Beneath me she softens, her lips part, and her body cants toward me. Under the table, I press my palm against her cloth-covered sex.

  “If you’d let me wear a skirt, you could be touching me right now,” she whispers naughtily against my mouth. Her words are like gasoline on a flame.

  I grind the heel of my palm down and press my fingers tight against her. “I can make you come right here at the table.”

  Her thighs tighten around my hand. “Without taking my clothes off?”

  Is she issuing me a dare? Challenge fucking accepted.

  “I can make you come at least once, no penetrative touching. No under the clothes touching.”

  She laughs then, a low sultry sound that strikes me right in the groin.

  “I know you can. This is why that girl is crying in the bathroom.”

  “Back to that?” I sigh and withdraw my hand. “If you aren’t going to let me make you come here, then let’s go home where you can scream without anyone but me hearing you.”

  “Can’t.” Her lips twist into a wry grimace. “Sarah.”

  “Kaga will take care of her. He’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

  “You should leave with the one who brought you,” she quips. I can tell I’m not moving her from this seat until we get some reassurance from her friend.

  I pull out my cellphone and call Kaga. He answers at the first ring. “You need some pointers? Can’t close the deal?”

  “Tiny lives with me. I’ve already closed the deal.” I wink at Tiny but she rolls her eyes at my comment. “Unlike you, whose girl is currently roaming the halls of an ivy-covered campus with feral frat boys chasing her down.”

  “I’m going to take so much money from you at the next poker game, you’ll be in a fetal position begging for mercy after the first hour.”

  “If money is going to make you feel better about your inaction, I’ll just leave some here on the table because I’m a good friend.”

  “Fuck you, Kerr. What is it you called about?”

  “Tiny won’t leave without knowing that Sarah is going to be okay, but if Tiny doesn’t leave now then we’re going to put on a show that will probably get your bar closed down for public indecency.”

  “Hold on,” he sighs.

  “Hello?” Sarah comes on the line. I hand the phone to Tiny who carries on a short conversation with her. After she hangs up, she gives me a nod.

  As I help her out of the booth, she says, “You have some good lines, but it’s still pretty bad you don’t remember her.”

  “Are we back to Melinda? My guess is that she’s sadder she lost her VIP access than anything else.” I place my hand at the base of her spine, just under her blouse, enjoying the feel of her warm skin against my palm.

  “That’s cruel.”

  “Maybe, but more than likely the truth.” I shrug. I’m not interested in discussing a random woman I slept with and have since forgotten. The only woman I care about is standing in front of me. I press a button on my phone to signal that Steve should bring the car around.

  “Wait.” Tiny gasps. “She’s right there with Howe.”

  I follow her arm and spy a tall, thin brunette standing right next to Richard Howe, who apparently hasn’t yet left the bar. He has a hand around her bare waist and she’s dressed in a backless tank and a tiny mini. They’re talking at the base of the VIP stairs. It’s hard to say whether they’re arguing or whether this is Richard’s move to get her to have sex with him in one of the plunge pools or a banquette.

  Her appearance sparks a vague memory. “I think I dated her for a period of a couple months—maybe three—several years ago.” She looks generic to me. At one time, early on in my success, I slept with models and aspiring actresses and any other lady who turned my head. As I got older and needed something more than physical interaction, I started dating women in finance. Bankers, lawyers, and writers. The pillow talk was more interesting, as was dinner conversation. But still, none of them held my interest and I’d always moved on.

  “What’s she doing with the scumbag?” Tiny scowls, her forehead crinkling angrily. We watch as Richard’s hand dips down over the model’s ass and cups it. From our superior angle, it’s easy to see his fingers disappear under the girl’s skirt. She looks surprised and then resigned. Her fingers run up and down his lapel. Even if she doesn’t want him, she’s willing enough.

  “He’s a meal ticket. Modeling is a tough gig.” I apply light pressure on Tiny’s back to urge her forward. I don’t really care what Howe is up to tonight. He can fuck a hundred models as long as he doesn’t look Tiny’s way.

  But there’s no way to avoid Howe as we exit, since he’s standing at the base of the stairs. Both he and the model turn toward us, and Howe gives Tiny an appraising look that makes her shift slightly to use my frame as cover. I reach behind me and draw her to the opposite side, away from Howe.

  “I see your taste in women still runs toward the trashy side,” Howe says snidely.

  Melinda gasps, but Tiny only squeezes my hand.

  Kaga wouldn’t care if I laid Howe out on the floor with a punch to the jaw, but I’m not going to give Howe ammunition for an assault charge. The one thing you learn when dealing with cops is to never throw the first punch.

  “Your inability to judge quality when you see it is why you are a failure, Howe. In the future, it’d be good for your health to pretend Tiny and I do not exist. Remember what I said before. Your time here is limited.”

  I give a short nod to Melinda. She reaches out a hand toward me, but I shift away so that it merely brushes my sleeve.

  “Someday you’ll pay for all this,” Howe says.

  “That day is never going to happen.” Kaga’s place is too successful, and the packed crowd is preventing us from
making a quick escape.

  “He’s not worth it.” Tiny directs this to Melinda.

  “Not all of us get Ian Kerr to take us home,” she says sadly.

  “You could do better.” Tiny reaches out a hand. “Trust me. You’re an amazing girl. Don’t settle.”

  I stifle a laugh. Nothing could be more insulting than for two gorgeous women to be completely ignoring Howe. It’s better than a punch in the face because it hits him where it really counts—his vanity.

  Howe’s face turns livid as the model allows herself to be drawn away.

  “You’re right.” She visibly straightens her shoulders. “You’re so right.”

  Leaning forward, she gives Tiny a kiss on the cheek and sends me another sad smile before drifting into the crowd. I take Tiny’s hand and push through to the exit. Howe is left behind us, completely alone.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Is seven too early?” Tiny asks.

  “No, but if my meeting runs late, just start without me.” I glance at my watch. “How do you want to run this meeting? You know that the likelihood that he has anything of your mother’s is almost nil.”

  “I’ll regret it if I don’t at least go and hear him out.”

  “He wants something,” I warn.

  “I know that. I know he’s not a good guy. I lived with him, remember?” she shoots back with asperity. “But wondering if he does have something of Mom’s will bug me far more than if I let him bullshit us for a couple hours. You don’t have to come.”

  “I’m coming.” Reluctantly I agree, knowing she’s right. “But I’m going to be late.”

  “We’re going to be in a public place. There’s nothing he can do that can hurt me. Words, Ian, can’t hurt me. I don’t care enough about Mitch to let his opinions about anything bother me. Go forth and be your bad investment self.”

  After telling her I love her, I hang up and hurry to the conference room. Today’s meeting is with the wearables firm. They have ideas for everything from clothes that change colors depending on your mood to shoes that provide differing cushioning depending on the walking surface. The meeting runs longer than I anticipated but a few glances at my watch has them hurrying to wrap it up.