by Sybil Bartel
I quickly scanned left and right, then looked over my shoulder. I rushed across the parking lot and slipped inside a shit restaurant to hide until Buck-I-wanna-rescue-you got smart and left. I didn’t need a hero. I needed my cash and I needed to figure out how to rip off the Velcro hold Miami had on me.
I asked the bartender to call me a cab then I ordered two tequilas because I could. Maybe Miami was right. I should pop out some babies with one of his flunkies. Maybe he’d get lazy and reveal himself at a christening. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth as I threw back my first shot.
“I’m beginning to think you need AA.”
I jerked and about fell off my stool. Choking on the alcohol, I sputtered as the burn went up my nose instead of down my throat. In a flash, I was on my feet and Buck was holding my arms straight up like I was surrendering.
“What the hell are you doing?” I managed between coughs as tears leaked out of my eyes.
He tucked both my wrists in one hand and used the thumb of his other hand to brush at the tears. “Stopping you from choking,” he said in all seriousness.
I didn’t have a smart comeback. My wrists were tingling in an unfamiliar way and it’s all I could focus on, that and his eyes. And maybe his lips. He had really full lips.
“Are you okay?” His thumb lingered.
Not by a long shot. “You should’ve been at Bob’s Used Car Lot by now, trading my ride for a heap of cash.” I was going for sarcastic but failed.
Slowly, he took a wrist in each hand and lowered my arms to my sides, but he didn’t let go. “Not my car,” he whispered like he was telling me a dirty little secret.
Okay, I might’ve felt a little weak in the knees. I’m sure this approach worked really well for him. “You have no self-preservation,” I warned, but who was I kidding? I was the one without any self-preservation. I should’ve stepped away from him.
“I’m a Marine.”
“Yeah...” A big, giant, wall-of-muscle, gorgeous marine. “The tattoo kinda gave it away.” I definitely shouldn’t have had that third shot.
His jaw ticked.
I might’ve whimpered.
Without warning, he pulled me into his chest and wrapped an arm around me tight.
Holy fuck. Did he know how good he smelled? Was this even fair? Instant need, throbbing and unfamiliar, pooled between my legs and suddenly all I could think about was crawling up his body. I didn’t even realize he’d taken his wallet out and thrown a few bills on the bar. I was so caught up in his yummy goodness, I didn’t register his intent until he grabbed my purse.
“Hey!” Shit. Focus. “I didn’t finish my drink.”
“You’re done.” He propelled me outside and into the shadows.
I didn’t even try to stop him. He smelled ah-mazing, like now-I-really-needed-that-last-shot-super-bad amazing.
Curling his arm, turning my body into his, he scanned the parking lot.
“Looking for someone?” I leaned into his hard chest.
“A tail.”
“I’m pretty sure Shorty and his unconscious friend are out of commission.” I inhaled deeply, hoping I was right. His scent was sending me over the edge. If I did that again, I’d beg him to take me somewhere secluded. Not that I’d have any idea what to do with him, but I was pretty sure Buck had a real good idea what to do with a willing and able female.
“Why are you being followed?” He rushed us to my car.
I melted into him, savoring the contact because I knew the second we got into my car I wouldn’t let it happen again. “Does this He-Man act usually work for you? Big bad marine swoops in and saves the day? I’m just wondering, because if you ask me, I think it’s a little overkill.”
“Yes, yes and I didn’t ask.” Buck unlocked the passenger door and folded me in.
I waited until he got behind the wheel. “Oh-kay, good to know. But for the record, I don’t need to be managed or rescued.” Except for maybe right now when I’d had too much to drink to be driving. I may like my tequila, but at five-four and a whopping hundred and fifteen pounds, I wasn’t exactly a heavyweight in the drinking department.
“Could’ve fooled me.” He started the car then looked at me, really looked at me. Since his face remained impassive, I had no idea what he was thinking. After a moment, he shook his head, reached into the glove box and pulled out a piece of paper. “This your current address?” He held up my registration.
Oh, he was good. “Maybe.” I smiled like a Cheshire cat.
His eyes narrowed. “Am I going to find any surprises there?” he asked, still holding the registration up.
“Did you want to?” My lips eased past a smile and slid into a grin. What the hell was wrong with me?
Buck paused then dropped his bomb. “Not unless I can kill it or fuck it.”
My grin died and outrage took a choke hold. “Not attractive!” Thankful I hadn’t buckled in yet, I slammed my side against the door and pulled the handle.
I wasn’t fast enough. I was beginning to think I’d never be fast enough for him. One of his arms braced in front of me and the other went around my shoulders. He pulled the door shut and held me in place.
“I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to be attractive.” His breath tickling my ear, his voice had gone all liquid and sexified.
A squeaky little moan of protest or maybe defeat escaped my throat.
“You want me to try harder?” he whispered.
“Harder?” I choked on the word. His arms were like steel, his voice an aphrodisiac of the nth degree, and he smelled fucking incredible. I didn’t want to know what Buck trying harder would be like. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t survive it.
“Yeah.” His hand snaked under my hair and found the back of my neck.
“What are you doing?” Breathless, there was absolutely no, and I mean no menace behind my words.
His thumb stroked under my ear, his fingers made slow circles in my scalp. “You know what isn’t attractive?”
Jesus that felt good. “Hmm?” My eyes closed. Slow circles, stroke, slow circles, stroke...
“You.”
“What?” Outraged, indignant, I sat straight up and glared at him.
Buck slammed my seat belt home, cranked the engine and gave my glare right back to me. “Not telling me what’s going on, playing this little game of yours, that’s not attractive.”
* * *
Apparently, along with his superhuman strength and ability to put up with me for more than five minutes, Buck knew his way around town. We didn’t speak as he drove to my apartment. I was questioning my level of intelligence at letting him drive me home, let alone know where I lived. But at this point, I didn’t have a choice unless I wanted to jump out of a moving car. And I wasn’t even going to entertain the notion that I felt safe around him. Besides, if he decided to cut me up and throw away the pieces, I would never, ever, have to hear Miami’s voice again. I smiled.
“Something funny?” Buck took a corner, his arms all bulgy muscles as he turned the wheel.
I stared at him as the latent female part of me took over. His seat pushed back and reclined to accommodate his height, his thighs and arms giving new meaning to the word muscular—he wasn’t hot, he was movie-star-unreal hot. Handling the car like he could do anything, his take-no-prisoners attitude—he was making my mouth water.
“You’re staring,” he commented.
“Can you blame me?” Did he not look in the mirror?
“For being mouthy and petulant? Yes.”
“Goody for you.” Jerk.
He threw a glance at me then looked back to the road. “You live alone?”
A spark of fear crept in. “Why?”
He waited until we were stopped at a light then he turned to me. A patient look softened the hard angles of his face. “I’m not going to hurt you, Layna. Despite what you think, I’m trying to help. You won’t tell me anything so I’m trying to get some information to gauge what I’m dealing with. Recon, if you w
ill. Answer a few questions for me and we’ll take it from there, okay?”
Why was he being so nice? When I didn’t answer, he took my hand.
“You can ask me anything you want if that makes you feel more comfortable. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” He squeezed my hand then let go when the light changed.
Stunned, I just sat there. No one ever wanted to help me. Keep me quiet, keep me in check, keep me isolated, but never help me. I was at a loss. Then it occurred to me. What did I have to lose? My life? It was shit anyway. I wasn’t afraid of dying. Okay, a horrible raped and beaten or shoved-through-a-wood-chipper death wasn’t high on my priority list, but I had no family. I had no friends. I worked dead end jobs where I could be anonymous. If something happened to me, the few things I owned would be liquidated and given to a nice animal shelter in Miami, courtesy of one Matthew Barrett, Esquire, to whom I paid a hefty monthly sum. The thought was sobering.
“Yes,” I muttered, feeling like I was jumping off a cliff.
“Yes?” Buck sounded distracted as he glanced in the rearview mirrors.
“I live alone. Why are you doing this?”
He checked the mirrors again before answering. “Because it gives me something to do while I wait for my mother to die. It beats the hell out of feeling helpless.”
Wow. Okay, that was honest. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Cancer.”
“Shouldn’t you be with her right now?” Shit, now I really felt guilty.
“She’s in hospice. There isn’t much I can do for her that they aren’t doing already. By early evening, she’s asleep and doesn’t wake till morning. Even then she’s only lucid for an hour or two.” He turned onto my street.
“I’m sorry.” I knew how shitty it was to lose your mother. “Where’s your dad?”
“Don’t have one. He split before I was born. What happened to your parents?”
“Who says something happened to my parents?” Even though I’d decided to answer his questions, the defense mechanism was built in.
“You told the man on the phone you were no one’s daughter.”
I sighed. “They died.”
“Siblings?”
“No.” And I was glad because this was hell on me. I couldn’t imagine someone else having to live through it too.
“Other family?”
“Not that I know of.” I wasn’t keen on laying out my pathetic life story to a stranger but I had to admit, Buck seemed pretty non-judgmental. I liked the way he didn’t apologize or say any meaningless bullshit.
“Are you a student?”
“No.” Miami never would’ve allowed that.
“What are you doing in Gainesville?”
“I foolishly thought I could escape Miami.”
“The man or the place?”
He was pretty sharp. “Both.”
“Are you in danger?”
The million-dollar question. “Not as much as you are now.”
“What kind of danger are you in?”
His not so subtle avoidance of my statement wasn’t lost on me. “The kind where if I don’t talk about it, it’ll be fine. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for you.”
“Because?”
“Because you brought me my sweater. They saw you with me. I’m not supposed to socialize or do anything else they don’t want me to do.”
He pulled into my parking lot, cut the engine and turned to look at me. “What, exactly, does that mean?”
“How are you going to get home?” Now that he’d driven me to my apartment, what was he gonna do? Take a bus? “You don’t seem the bus type.”
His eyes flared. “Damn it, Layna, answer the question.”
“Jeez, testy much?”
“I didn’t get any dinner.”
The tick in his jaw was doing overtime but I didn’t give a shit. “I didn’t have dinner either but you don’t hear me whining about it.”
He stared at me.
Damn. He got more leverage with that stare than cold hard cash. What was the point of not telling him? He’d go back to wherever the Marines sent him and I’d never see him again. I was already planning on skipping out of G-ville first chance I got, so who cared? It wasn’t like Barrett didn’t have the full story in a sealed envelope with instructions to mail it to the Miami Times Tribune if I died. And the recording of Miami’s voice I’d managed to get last year? That would go to the state attorney.
I sighed. “I maybe heard my parents get killed three years ago and maybe know some things I’m not supposed to. And maybe some lowlifes in Miami want to keep me from blabbing my mouth. Since I might value breathing, I might do what they say...for the most part. Except move away. And get a job. And not marry into the family. And talk to strangers...and maybe get in a car with you.” There, I’d said it. I looked around. Nope, no apocalypse, I was good.
Buck looked out the windshield, his hand resting on the steering wheel. His fingers did a little tap of agitation then he turned back to me. “That’s a pretty far-reaching organization if they’ve got resources to follow you for this long.”
“Yeah, well, drug pushers get paid pretty well these days. Not as well as the eighties I hear, but still.”
“How come you’re not dead?”
Ah, here’s the tricky part. “I might’ve embellished what I know. I might’ve said I’ve got sixteen different resources sitting on loaded bombs just waiting for my death so they can detonate. I also might’ve said I’ve got a few friends in an online capacity that’d do the same thing if I went belly up.” I shrugged. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time.
“Do you?”
I paused, thinking. “Let me ask you this. When they pick you up and torture you before they kill you, are you gonna let slip what I tell you?”
Buck blinked. “No.”
“Then, no, I don’t have sixteen loaded bombs. But I do have one. And it’s getting harder and harder to keep him a secret.”
“If you’re killed, why wouldn’t he be next?”
I’d thought hard about this over the years. “Because by then he’d already have released what I gave him and since I’m dead, I won’t be contacting him every month to let him know I’m alive. Assuming he’s covered his bases, there’ll be no way to trace him after I’m gone.” I’d never met Barrett. I’d plucked his name out of the phone book after my parents died because I didn’t want to use my parents’ estate lawyer. Lawrence Westcott was old and pushy and he would’ve insisted I go to the police, or worse, taken matters into his own hands. It would’ve been only a matter of time before Miami got to him too.
I figured Barrett would have a better chance because we had no previous connection. He’d also assured me that, as a lawyer, he knew how to keep himself safe. But he’d recently passed the bar when I’d first contacted him and I suspected he was just desperate for the monthly fee he could bill me. Whatever his reasons, so far, it’d worked out.
“What’d your father do?”
I knew Buck didn’t mean his profession, although that tied into it. I didn’t see the point in not telling him. I’d already told him enough to get him killed. “He was a congressman with aspirations of becoming a senator who wanted to clean up the drug trade going through the ports of Miami.”
“And your mother?”
“Wrong place at the wrong time.” Although in retrospect, I’m not sure she would’ve survived living through my father’s death. They were joined at the hip. She loved him to hell and back.
“So you’ve been dealing with this for three years?”
“Pretty much, but the first year I was a kid coping with my parents’ deaths. The lawyer for their estate worked it that I stayed in my parents’ house with the housekeeper until I graduated high school. Private school. I threw myself into studying and finished when I was seventeen. The second I had a piece of paper saying I was a high school graduate, the housekeeper took off. Can’t say I blame her, she had to know what was up. She’d worked for my
parents since I was born.”
“Why didn’t they go after her?”
“I’m not sure they didn’t. We never talked about it. Everywhere we went, we were followed but she pretended she didn’t see them. The night before she left, I saw her sneak out and go to their car. She took an envelope from one of them. I figured they’d paid her to disappear. It’s not like she had anything to use against them. She worked at our house and my parents were killed at my dad’s office.”
Buck went absolutely still. The finger drumming stopped, the jaw tic settled, even his breathing seemed to stop. Only his eyes moved. They went wide with shock. “You’re Congressman Dellis’s daughter?”
And that’s another reason I changed my name. The double murder made headlines for a year in South Florida, not to mention the national attention it got. “Used to be.” I shrugged. “Now I’m Layna Blair.”
“You were just a kid,” he said, incredulous.
And every minute of it sucked, sucked so bad that I couldn’t think about it. If I did, the panic set in. “Now I’m not.”
Buck suddenly looked angry. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two?” My lie came out as a question because I didn’t think I wanted to see this man angry. He was a force to be reckoned with when he was all calm and stoic, but angry? I was sure I didn’t want to see that.
“Bullshit.”
Yep, definitely didn’t want to see him angry. “Bull-true.” That’s what my fake ID said and I was sticking to it. I’d paid a small fortune for that identity and damn it, I was twenty-two. Sorta.
“The murder was three years ago. You just admitted to graduating high school at seventeen. Try again.” He glared at me.
Maybe I’d had too much to drink, maybe I was tired or maybe I was just plain stupid, but I couldn’t see the point in lying to him anymore. “Nineteen.”
Buck swore. Both his hands brushed over his face and through his hair. He ripped the key out of the ignition and threw the door open. “Come on,” he barked.