by Sybil Bartel
“Go get it, hurry.” He came back to the living room with the water but he didn’t drink it.
I rushed into the bedroom, wondering how far I should let this go. My life experiences were limited and what little I had was this side of jacked up, but one thing I did have? Instinct. And my instinct was telling me that Buck wasn’t a bad person. He may even be able to help me. He was willing to try and that was more than I could say about anyone in three long years. So there you had it. In a selfish, out-for-myself kind of way, I was letting Buck take charge.
I riffled through the contents of my desk that were all over the floor, courtesy of Buck, and found my passport. Then I made a pit stop in my bathroom and reached under the sink for the familiar box before I went back to the living room.
“Ready,” I said to a waiting Buck.
Buck glanced at the small box of tampons in my hand but didn’t comment. His eyes took in my passport and then he stepped toward me with his hand out. “Hand them over.”
I did as he said.
Shoving the two items into one of his cargo pockets in his pants, his eyes locked on mine. “I’m going to wake him up then I’m going to make it look like I’m taking you by force. I won’t hurt you but just the same, don’t fight me. Pretend to be scared into submission.”
I might’ve rolled my eyes.
Buck stared at me, expressionless. “Better yet, pretend to be unconscious.”
“Is there a plan C?” My acting skills were super latent—like practically nonexistent latent.
Buck misunderstood. He stepped close and took my face in his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
Oh, he’d hurt me all right. I was sure of that now. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but he’d leave eventually and it was gonna hurt like hell. “That’s not what I’m worried about,” I lied.
“Then what are you worried about?” He stroked my cheek.
Oh man, I couldn’t think when he did that. It was like Valium or a stupid pill but much more instant. Buck touches me, my brain turns off. I had to force myself to step back. “Okay.” I put a couple feet between us and inhaled. “Unconscious, got it. But how, exactly, is that gonna work?” The logistics were escaping my fog-induced brain.
Buck watched me with a penetrating stare that slowly melted into liquid. He dropped his voice to a seductive whisper. “Come here.”
Gulp. Ah, yeah, no. Uh uh. Not happening. I might’ve shaken my head.
His giant hand rose up slowly, palm up. He said nothing.
Shit. I was such a goner. Why prolong the charade? I took his hand.
His monstrous hand wrapped around mine and he instantly pulled me to his side, whispering in my ear. “That’s it baby, just relax.”
His breath tickled my skin and his heat made me melt. I slunk against his side and inhaled the clean musk I’d grown attached to.
“You think too much,” he said softly, brushing my hair from my face and skimming his lips over my temple.
I wasn’t thinking jack shit. Wait, that’s not true. I was thinking Buck and muscles and sexy voice and hot breath. Total package wrapped up in a dominating, alpha, kick ass, swoon-worthy marine. It’s a good thing I’d sworn off men after my one and only encounter last year because Blaze-cum-Buck just ruined me for anyone else. Ever.
“That’s right.” His lips touched my ear. “You like mountains, baby? Or the beach?”
Holy cow, his voice. “Beach,” I whispered.
“Me too. Beach all the way. Hot sand under your feet, sound of the waves, you and me sharing a towel...sound like fun?”
“Mmm.” Buck, no shirt. “Yeah.”
“Drop your head forward.”
I didn’t hesitate. My hair fell over my face and concealed my view.
“Good girl. Just for that, I’m gonna take you to the beach.” Buck moved toward Shorty.
“Wait.” I tensed.
“Shh, I got you. Let go, don’t think.” Buck’s arm tightened around my waist. “Let your legs go slack and drop your center of gravity, baby. Make it look real. Don’t worry, I got you. Think about you and me and that beach day I promised you.”
I hesitated but I did it. Then I didn’t have a chance to think.
Buck moved into action. “Ready, baby?” It was a rhetorical question.
Buck threw the water on Shorty and kicked him, hard. “Wake up, asshole!” My body jerked when he yelled.
Shorty moaned and it was everything I could do to pretend to be passed out.
“I said wake the fuck up.” Buck kicked him again.
Shorty must have woken up.
“Take a good look. I’ve got her now. You tell your boss this. She’s mine. Everything she knows? Mine. Every incriminating detail? Mine. I don’t give a fuck if she lives through what I have planned for her. She doesn’t have to. We’ve got enough to put your boss away for a long, long time. Her shit’s icing on the cake. But your boss? Done. Tell him the state attorney is getting the last word.” And with that, Buck dragged me from the apartment, throwing me over his shoulder as soon as he hit the hallway. He didn’t wait for the elevator. He bounded down the stairs, my guts taking a pummeling on his shoulder.
I was too stunned to make a sound.
Chapter Five
Buck threw me in the back of my car. I didn’t make a peep in case Shorty had followed, not that he’d looked up to anything besides drooling bloody saliva the last time I saw him. We were a few miles down the road before Buck spoke.
“A few more minutes, just stay down.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t about to question his tactics. Mine had gotten me to where I was and frankly, that place sucked. Also, I was beginning to have a healthy dose of fearful respect for what Buck was capable of.
After what seemed like an hour, he stopped the car and turned to me. “You okay?”
“Peachy.” I sat up and rubbed my arm where I’d landed on it when he tossed me in the car.
“You hurt?” It was dark as hell, but I could still tell his face was scrunched up.
“I’m good. Where are we?”
“My mother’s house. Let’s go.”
I followed Buck out of the car and took in the large brick house in front of me. It was this side of new, set back from the street in a lot dead center at the end of a cul-de-sac. It had tall windows, a pitched roof, and it was surrounded by woods. Buck led us down a curved walkway to a set of glass front doors that looked right in on the house. His mother must not have been into privacy. That or no one ever came to the end of this street. He let us in and turned off an alarm.
Without turning on any lights, he walked through the front hall and open-plan living and dining room to an open kitchen and family room. The house was huge. It had to be at least four thousand square feet. Whatever Buck’s mom did for a living, she wasn’t poor. Buck grabbed some keys from the kitchen counter and handed them to me.
“I’ll be right back.” He disappeared down a hall at the other end of the family room. A moment later he came back with a duffel bag that looked like classic military issue.
“Going somewhere?” I may have sounded like a smartass but the duffel was a little worrisome.
Buck spared me a glance on his way through the kitchen to the garage. “We’re going somewhere, c’mon.” When he hit the door opener, a sleek silver Infiniti was illuminated, sitting all by its lonesome in the three-car garage. I was holding its key.
“You know where the Hilton is by the west end of campus?” He set the house alarm from a different keypad then shuffled me into the garage and pulled the door shut.
“Yeah...” Hotel room plus Buck. I broke out in a sweat.
“Drive directly there and park by the lobby like you’re going to check in. Lock the car doors and wait for me.”
I breathed in relief. “Where are you going?”
“To dump your car.” He glanced at his watch.
“What?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d been ready to dump the thing myself when it meant
getting rid of him earlier, but still.
“It’s a car, Layna, you can get another one.”
Was he made of money? Sounded like a pretty cavalier attitude for what amounted to a government employee. “What if I can’t afford one?”
“You can’t afford to keep it, not now. We’ll meet in half an hour. If I’m one minute late, start driving south toward Daytona.” He handed me his cell phone. “Call Talon and explain everything. His number is in Contacts. Tell him I told you to call and he’ll help you.”
“Talon?” Did he plan on being late?
“We served together but he got out a couple years ago. He’s a pain in the ass but he’s trustworthy.”
Shit. “Terrific.” Another dominating marine. I shoved the phone in my jeans.
Buck leaned down and left a kiss on my cheek. “Be careful and use the remote to close the garage. See you in a bit.”
Stunned by his kiss, I slowly got behind the wheel and watched as Buck backed out of the driveway at warp speed.
“Show off,” I muttered to the cushy leather interior.
I took my time adjusting the mirrors and seat. When I cranked the engine, the odometer confirmed what I suspected—three thousand miles. This car was brand new, and expensive. Was this his car or his mother’s? I didn’t get the impression he lived with his mom.
I pulled out of Buck’s mother’s development and passed the church, thinking he must’ve walked there tonight. I drove sedately toward the Hilton. It was getting late and the streets weren’t crowded. I loved Gainesville at night. It had all the buildings that hinted at the busy life of a college town, but still felt like a sleepy suburb with woods encroaching anywhere they could find purchase. The woods at night took on a mysterious feel and the empty streets with stoplights working for no one made me feel like a shadow lurking on the fringe of society.
It’d only taken sixteen minutes to get to the Hilton and park. The next fourteen minutes were the longest of my life. I watched the clock on the dash, every second getting more nervous. A few short hours ago I’d never heard of Blaze Buck Johnson. Now, he was my lifeline. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around that when I noticed I had three minutes left.
Something in my pocket buzzed. When it happened again, I remembered his cell and pulled it out. Buck had a new text.
Miss you sweetie! Hope your mom is doing ok. Want to come over tonight? Please? Kisses, Christie
Seriously? I wanted to barf. Then I wanted to rip Christie Kisses’ hair out, whoever the hell she was. A really, really bad part of me also wanted to text back. Something like: “Can’t, crabs.” Or “Your ass is big, lose my number.” Since Buck was helping me out, I refrained, but just barely. My only consolation was that Christie Kisses’ text came through from a number, not a name programmed in his contacts list.
I glanced at the clock. Two more minutes. I couldn’t help myself, I pulled up Buck’s other texts on his cell and wished I hadn’t. There were a half dozen other texts like the one he just got, all from girls hoping to see him. There was another from the server Jason I met tonight.
Who’s the hottie? Wanna hit the gym in the a.m.? Unless you’ll be busy...
Gee, classy. The last text was from the infamous Talon.
U fuck, u been home a week n haven’t called? Where r u? I’ll come 2 u
None of Buck’s texts showed a response. He either systematically ignored everyone or deleted his responses.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and drummed my thumbs on the steering wheel. One more minute. Shit. I ran my hands through my damp hair then glanced around but saw no one. In fact, it’d been quiet the whole time I was parked here. I watched the time slip away. Shit. Shit. Shit. 9:58. No Buck. Motherfucker.
I slammed my hands on the steering wheel then cranked the engine. I’d follow through with the Talon thing only because maybe Talon would know where to find Buck and I could give the fucking car back. Or at least dump the car with Talon.
I threw the Infiniti in reverse and braced my hand on the passenger headrest so I could see behind me to back up. I stomped the gas in irritation and jerked back a couple yards before I slammed the brakes and ground the gear shift into Drive. The knuckle rap on the driver’s window came a second before my foot hit the gas.
“Shit!” I jumped a foot in my seat and my hands flew to my chest.
Buck stood outside the car, face impassive.
I put both feet on the brake pedal and opened the window. “You gave me a fucking heart attack! And! And! You’re late!” I gulped air between yelling at him and patting my chest. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
Buck silently reached through the window, undid the lock then opened the door. He made a move over gesture and I barely had time to throw the car in park and crawl over the console before he folded himself behind the wheel.
He slid the seat back, raised the window and pulled out of the hotel parking lot all without saying a word. When he finally spoke, the anger in his voice was barely contained.
“Thirty. Two. Minutes.” Even though his voice was quiet, he bit the words out.
“Yeah, you were late,” I quipped.
“Thirty-two minutes, Layna!” he yelled.
The blood in my veins went cold. “Pull over.”
“What?”
He was like Jekyll and Hyde. The cork had been popped and good Buck was gone. Irate Buck was in full force, seething in the seat beside me. I was having none of it, none of it. I wasn’t going to trade one messed up oppression for another. Not a chance in hell.
“I said, pull over, NOW.”
Glaring at me, Buck stepped on the gas.
Without thinking about it, with no regard for my safety, I threw open the car door and reached for the seatbelt release.
What happened next was so fast I would’ve thought it only possible in the movies.
Buck grabbed the shoulder strap of my seatbelt and slammed on the brakes. Gripping the steering wheel with his massive left hand, he pulled hard to the right and sent the car spinning into three lanes of traffic. When we came to a stop, my door swung shut. Buck whipped the car around and floored it, never once letting go of his hold on my seatbelt.
“Thirty-fucking-two, Layna,” he said quietly.
I gulped.
“Thirty. Two.”
I was certain he could feel my heart pounding against his hand still holding my seatbelt. And because I had no self-preservation, I let the words pop out of my mouth. “Your point?”
“We had a deal!”
Okay, calm down. Breathe. I could manage this. “No, we didn’t have a deal. You gave orders, I acquiesced,” I said as non-combatively as I could manage. Besides, I left at thirty minutes. But I didn’t say that, because maybe, just maybe it was thirty-one and apparently semantics mattered to him. Or rather minutes, minutes mattered to him.
Buck held his hand out. “Give me the phone.”
I pulled the phone out and slapped it into his hand. “By the way, Christie Kisses texted you, she wants a little action tonight. I would’ve told her you were busy but I figured why ruin a good thing for you?”
Buck ignored me. With one eye on the road, he dialed his phone and put it to his ear. A few seconds later he spoke. “Don’t be a dick, Talon....Yeah, something like that. I’ve got a situation. Do you have an untraceable phone?...Good, I need a favor. Call—” He paused, glancing at me. “What’s the state attorney’s name?”
Shit, he really was doing this. I didn’t see the point of withholding the information. He could’ve figured it out with a simple internet search anyway. “James Lara,” I answered.
Buck spoke into the phone. “Call the Miami state attorney’s office and leave a death threat for James Lara. Make it sound real. Then place a second call to Lara’s number and leave an anonymous tip that Congressman Dellis’s murderer is after him.”
Buck paused then spoke again. “It’s a long story.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll tell you about in a little under two h
ours....Yeah, I’m on my way to you....Don’t even think about it.” Buck hung up.
Jesus Christ. Death threat? Who the fuck was this Talon person that he would just do that? And with no questions asked? This was bad, jail time bad. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
Buck sped down the highway, intent on the road. The silence between us came alive and grew into a vortex so big, it sucked all the air out of my lungs and pressed on me from the inside out. Usually I was a quiet person. When you have no friends and no family, you don’t have a choice, but this silence? It was killing me. I tried to breathe through it but my anxiety was quickly morphing into panic.
My hand covered my chest and I leaned forward in my seat. I needed a distraction. “How come you never reply to any of your texts?” I asked.
“What’s wrong?”
Jesus. What was right? “Nothing.”
“Why are you clutching your chest?” The car slowed infinitesimally.
“Heartburn. Texts?”
He glanced at me then sped up again. “You looked at my phone.”
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. “You have a lot of women who want to spend time with you.”
“They don’t want to spend time with me.”
Yeah, right. “Could’ve fooled me.” Those texts were pretty clear.
“Trust me, they don’t want me. They don’t even know me. They just want what I represent.”
The distraction of the conversation was starting to work. My lungs eased into a slow breath and the pain in my chest let up by a degree. “Represent?”
Buck glanced at me sideways. “Marine. Force Recon. It’s the uniform and the title, not me.”
From where I was sitting, he sure seemed like a marine. That whole force in readiness thing, swooping in for the rescue, squaring off with Shorty without a gun. He definitely seemed like a marine. “If you aren’t the marine in the title and uniform, then what are you?”
“Good question,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
“Isn’t what you are, your identity? Isn’t that what you signed up for when you chose the Marines above all other branches of the military? I may not know much about being in the service, but it’s a pretty common stereotype that marines see themselves as a cut above. It’s the whole package I thought—the few, the proud, the Marines? You even branded yourself with the tattoo.”