All the Way Page 20

  “Baby, I could barely stop myself from pulling you onto my lap and getting two rides for the price of one. You expect me to have self-control to spare?” He dropped her hand so he could curve his arm around her. He pulled her to him.

  Layla felt his hard length straining against the fly of his jeans and wished they were alone. Someplace warm, dark and cozy—minus the denim. She moaned softly. “How long before we stop for the night?”

  “Moan like that again and it’ll be five minutes.” The skin tightened at his temples. He blew out a breath and shook his head ruefully. “Much as I’d love to, we’ve got a few hundred miles to log before we call it quits.”

  He was right. Making the most of every mile was the sensible thing to do. Trouble was, Layla didn’t feel like being sensible at the moment. A delicious first.

  “Man, I’m still hungry, though,” he said as he scanned the nearby food stands.

  “Sure, what can I get you? Cotton candy or an elephant ear?”

  “No dice, babe,” he said, gently tapping her nose.

  Blake walked up to a counter glistening with grease in the sunlight and ordered fried dough coated with powdered sugar. Layla turned to watch a brass quartet in twenties-style white caps, striped pants and suspenders march past playing “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

  A plume of straw dust followed behind them. The cloud reached Layla, tickling her nose right as Blake turned with his plate in his hands. “Achew!”

  Her sneeze blew powdered sugar all over Blake’s black T-shirt and ruined his snack. She felt bad. Except that it was so amusing a giggle spurted from her. He stared at her stonily.

  “Sorry.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to sneeze on your food.”

  He looked down at himself and back at her. “Nice.”

  “I can’t help that I’m allergic to hay.”

  “That information does me a lot of good now.”

  She shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry about the pastry. I’ll get you another one. But you know, the white-on-black isn’t bad. Maybe you’ll start a fashion trend.”

  “And try to compete with wife-beaters and mullets? You give me too much credit.” The humor of his condition seemed to dawn on him. His lips turned up. “I think we’ve worn out our welcome. Let’s ditch the greasy carnival food and get out of here.”

  “When will we be stopping for the night?” Layla drew out the question with a sexy lilt.

  His hand paused over the trash bin before he dropped in the ruined plate. He arched an eyebrow at her sultry tone. “As soon as I find someplace classier than a motel. That’s for sure. How would you feel about staying at a bed and breakfast?”

  “They always seem so romantic when you read about them in magazines,” she murmured wistfully. Plush bed. Scented candles. Ambient light caressing naked skin and soft shadows flirting with the darkness tucked into the corners. The sound of passion a suggestion on the breeze. Her insides liquefied. “Can we stay at a place like that tonight?”

  He offered her a glance filled with heat, followed by a promise laced with masculine warning. “If we do, there’s a really good chance that I’ll end up kissing every inch of your body.”

  “Really?” she breathed.

  “Then I’ll taste all the parts of you that make my mouth water. I’m not going to stop until I’ve had my fill of you, Layla.”

  “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “How soon until we stop?”

  He groaned. “Baby, you’re killing me.”

  “I’d bring you back from the dead just to spend this one night with you. I’ve pictured how it would be in bed with you since the day we met.”

  “Do you think I haven’t?”

  He tightened the arm he’d slid her waist and steered her through the exit, toward the row where his motorcycle waited.

  “I want you to know something.” His steps slowed. “I have to say it now, in case…I don’t know, in case I don’t get the chance again.”

  Layla looked up, startled to see the intensity that sharpened his green eyes.

  He said quietly, “A part of me died anytime I thought of you with Johnson. You probably don’t want to hear that. You’re thinking if I really felt that way, I should’ve crashed through your door and never left your side until you took me back.”

  “Blake, I—”

  “And you’d be right.”

  She tried to speak, but the pain etched into his features silenced her.

  “I never told you because I assumed you knew. So when things fell apart I chalked it up to lack of trust and blamed you. The worst mistake of my life. Please believe that, baby. I should’ve come for you.”

  Softly she reminded, “Blake, I pulled away just as hard as you pushed.”

  He shook his head. “I want to make up for my mistakes, for all the moments we missed.

  She took a deep breath and shared the words that came from her heart. “I miss the dreams I believed in when I was with you.”

  He stopped beside his motorcycle and drew her tight against him. Their lips brushed. He looked deep into her eyes. “Give me one more chance. I’ll do it right this time.”

  Blake pried back the seal that had sealed the truth inside his heart. He poured all his emotions into the look he gave her.

  He watched her blue-violet eyes swirl with mixed reactions. The blue seemed to hint at the joy of his proposal to let him back into her life; the blue that hovers on the horizon of long-held dreams she wanted to come true. The violet seemed to rim that azure lightness with doubt, uncertainty; the hesitation belonging to one whose self-preservation weighed down those dreams and prohibited swift surrender.

  It would take time. He knew that. He had guided her back to the place they were a year ago, gently, step by step, moment by moment.

  Now he had to wait for her trust to follow. Enduring the wait would be easy compared to withstanding the emotions he recognized in her eyes. He saw it all—the hurt he’d caused her, the curtain fear she’d have to walk through to meet him halfway, if they fell in love again. Everything he’d ached for during the past year.

  Stripped of pride, exposed and vulnerable, he murmured, “If you let me into your heart, this time I won’t let you go. I won’t let you down.”

  A fretful pause followed. Blake’s chest shuddered at the thought of losing her.

  Finally her lips parted to offer an answer.

  But it wasn’t Layla who spoke next.

  A masculine voice tore through the intimate silence. “Look at you, Desanto,” came the voice from a short distance away. “All sappy and pathetic, making promises you know you’ll never keep.”

  Blake’s head snapped up. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. That sneering tone steeped in biting sarcasm could only belong to one man. Jack .

  Blake whipped around, saw the guy with his arms crossed, standing in a deceptively casual pose against the driver’s side door of his undercover car, ten yards away. The venom of loathing leaked into Blake’s blood, burning through his veins.

  Frost coated his tone. “Well, look who finally showed up. What took you so long, Johnson? I practically led you right to us.”

  “Don’t be so sure of yourself, Desanto. Layla knows she can’t trust you. She never could. That’s why I’m here.”

  “You won’t get near her.” Blake’s arms tightened around Layla reflexively. Then he shoved her behind him, standing before her like a human shield. “Come at me with whatever you’ve got, Johnson. Because I have all sorts of things stored up for you. Let’s do this now. Let’s finish it.”

  Jack tipped his head back and let out a maniacal laugh. “I had no idea you were so sentimental, Desanto. I’m touched. Really.” Jack’s voice dropped low. “But I’m not here for you. I want Layla.”

  Slipping a glance back at Layla, Blake saw the fear mounting in her eyes. He turned a glare on Johnson. “You’ll have to go through me to get her.”

  Jack slid his gun from the holster at his hip. The
death-black gunmetal glinted in the afternoon sunlight like the grim reaper’s wink. Blake heard Layla’s strangled gasp behind him, felt her hands dig into his shirt. Jack inspected the gun as if lazily assessing the damage it could do, and said, “I will have her, Desanto. Step aside. Before I drop you to the ground.”

  Blake stiffened but didn’t ease his warrior-ready stance. “Not if I get to you first.”

  “You won’t.” Jack nodded to the passenger seat of his Crown Vic. Peering into the tinted glass, Blake saw a shadow move. “I know better than to take you on solo, after what you did to me the last time we crossed paths. Practically ripped my throat out. I couldn’t breathe right for a week. So I brought along reinforcement.”

  Blake swallowed. “You’ll put a hole through me just to get to Layla?”

  To Blake’s surprise, Johnson lowered the gun. The guy’s signature cocky grin twisted his lips. “I don’t need to go through you at all, Blake. I’ve got a better chip to bargain with. This has nothing to do with you. Step aside. Let Layla decide who she’ll ride to Sturgis with.”

  The sun heated his skin and turned his black T-shirt into an oven. Even though a bead of sweat tracked down his temple, Blake felt a block of ice hit the pit his stomach.

  One thought tore through his mind. Would Johnson go as far as to use Layla’s brother for bait? Was Rob waiting in the undercover car?

  Suddenly his own hunger for vengeance became as immaterial as a shadow in light of this new, frightening possibility.

  Damn it. Blake cursed himself.

  He’d let his stewing hatred for Jack and the crippling anger over what had happened to his parents cloud his vision so he couldn’t see what really mattered. Just like he’d done last year, when things had fallen apart. He’d been too furious, too vengeful to direct his anger at the true source. Instead, he’d let it seep out and poison the last precious remnants of his relationship with Layla.

  This underlying rage over a past that had been beyond his control came back to haunt in the present. Right now, the nightmare would begin anew.

  He could lose Layla all over again.

  Panic made him lightheaded. He fisted his hands, trying to regain control of himself, trying to steady his world spinning out of his control. He focused on Jack, on the car, on the shadow shifting inside.

  Instantly the whole picture became clear. Jack was going to force Layla to come to him. He was going to use Rob to manipulate her emotions. Again. Sonovabitch .

  “Jack. Don’t.” They were the only two words Blake could force beyond his clenched teeth.

  A cold smile slid onto Jack’s lips, filled his eyes. “Are you begging, Desanto?”

  Blake’s jaw tightened until it ached. He said nothing. Layla’s grip tightened on his shirt. Her breath came in frightened puffs against his shoulder blades.

  “A shame you’re reduced to that.” Jack shook his head at Blake in resigned disappointment. “You ought to hold onto what’s left of your pride, Blake. Or you’ll have nothing to console you when Layla chooses me over you. Again.” His smirk returned. “Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Neat and circular.”

  “It better be, for all you’ve got coming to you, Johnson.”

  Jack gestured with the gun again. “Go on. Move. Layla and I need to talk.”

  “I have nothing to say to you,” came her bitter reply.

  “Sweetheart, you wound me,” Jack said. Mock sadness gathered his eyebrows over stormy gray eyes. “What misery have I caused you to make you so hateful to me?”

  He had to be mocking her—or did her rejection honestly affect him? Blake wasn’t sure, but he was stunned to see that Jack’s face could transform into something soft, pliable. Pitiable.

  “I just want you to come with me. We can talk about everything on the way to Sturgis.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Layla voice sounded thin, threaded with fear that tore through Blake’s gut.

  “Don’t say that. Don’t force me to use Rob to get to you again.”

  Layla stepped out from behind Blake. She looked pale, her eyes shadowed with trepidation. “You leave my brother out of it.”

  The guy’s shoulders stooped. His posture pitched forward as if magnetized to her draw. “Layla.”

  “No.”

  “Layla, please.”

  At his soft entreaty, she revealed, “Jack, I can’t. I just can’t do it anymore.”

  “You don’t have to do anything. I can do it all. I’ll feel everything. It’ll be enough for both of us.”

  “Jack, you have to understand. What we had, it’s…”

  “Don’t say it’s gone. I can bring it back. Don’t say it!” A plea choked his words.

  Now who’s begging? Blake glared.

  “Oh, Jack.” She shook her head sorrowfully. Blake assumed she was simply appeasing the guy so he wouldn’t flip out. Yet Blake’s stomach pitched when he heard compassion sweeten her tone. “I just don’t feel for you what you feel for me. The relationship would never be equal, and that isn’t fair to either of us.”

  Jack’s lashes lifted. A look of pathetic, unrequited adoration spilled from his gaze to cover Layla with a sticky web of neediness.

  Going slackjawed, Blake ran a hand down his face. Holy Christ. Johnson thinks he’s in love with Layla.

  Then a shudder of recognition ran through his body. Because Blake suspected the same thing—of himself.

  He shut his eyes tight, turned away from the sight of the two of them engaging in a past Blake had no part of. Seeing them look at each other with a recognition he couldn’t participate in, something between them he couldn’t understand or change, took a chisel to his heart. It began to chip away at him, cutting, slashing.

  God, he would break apart if Layla picked Johnson.

  That’s when Jack’s tone changed. Blake’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing.

  “Then you leave me no other choice.” Jack’s words were spaced like a threat.

  The hair at the back of Blake’s neck stood on end. He spoke in a low murmur of warning. “Johnson—”

  “Stay out of it!” Jack’s voice cracked with unspent fury, his face reddening as he gestured with his gun. He jerked his head toward the passenger side of the Crown Vic. The door opened.

  Blake held his breath. There was no telling what violence or threats Jack had used to coerce cooperation, if it turned out to be Rob. Or what violence and threats were about to be issued.

  Blake’s eyes closed for a split second. Please don’t let it be Rob.

  When he opened them, he watched the passenger door yawn wide. A pair of combat boots met the ground and sank in the caked mud as a young-looking man stood up. Jack’s passenger turned.

  A face Blake didn’t recognize stared straight at him.

  With an exhale, Blake sent a glance of gratitude heavenward.

  Of course, now that he knew it wasn’t Rob, this presented a whole host of new problems. Mainly, how to avoid getting shot as he tried to protect Layla from her ex’s abduction.

  Jack’s eyes glowed with a demonic light. Gone was the pitiful appeal and pleading voice of a boy who wanted the person he loved to love him back. The replacement was a man who oozed a chilling aura of bitter hate and demented entitlement. If Jack got to Layla in this crazed state, he would damage her, physically and emotionally. Blake couldn’t let that happen.

  “Layla, no matter what he says, don’t go near him,” Blake told her, while he kept his gaze locked on the passenger.

  “Shut the hell up!” Jack screamed at him, then refocused on Layla. “Don’t listen to him. I’m the one you need. I’m the only one who can take you to your brother.”

  “What?” she gasped.

  “He’s with a biker gang. I know everything. And I know how to find him, exactly where to look, when we get to Sturgis.”

  “But…how?”

  “Because I introduced them,” Johnson replied, regaining his cool. Fear twisted Layla’s features. It seemed to fuel his craving to b
e in control, to have Layla at his mercy. The realization sickened Blake.

  Layla’s mouth tightened in shock. “How could you have done such a thing?”

  “Rob was poking around in places he had no business being. I needed some way to get him out of my hair—and get you to come back to me.”

  “Jack!” Fire ignited in her eyes. “You can’t make people do things. You can’t force me to come back to you.”

  “Oh, yes I can.”

  “What have you done to him?” The agony in her gaze made Blake’s chest ache and his hands clench. “What have you done with Robby?”

  “Nothing. Yet.”

  “Don’t you dare touch him! Don’t go near him, do you understand me?”

  “Or what?” Jack mocked. “What could you possibly do to hurt me, Layla, except refuse me? Oh, wait, you already did that. Looks like you’re fresh out of leverage.”

  Tears glittered in her eyes. “Jack, it’s me you want to punish. Please, don’t go after Robby.”

  Johnson flashed an evil grin. “I like the way you beg me.”

  Possessive jealousy burned and clawed through Blake’s veins. Unable to hold back any longer, he darted forward.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” Jack warned. “Johnny?”

  The passenger tapped something on the roof of the undercover car. The clang of metal on metal echoed to him. Through the waves of heat rising from the black roof, Blake saw a dark object cradled in the passenger’s palm. A gun.

  Blake drew up sharply. He settled an equally lethal look on the passenger, whose dark eyes were shaded beneath the shadow of the baseball cap he wore low on his forehead. Despite the shadow, Blake saw something that made him do a double-take. Blake blinked, peered at the guy, wondering…was that…a wink?

  “Now, back to your begging, sweetheart.” Jack’s upper lip curled with sneering pleasure. “That’s something I could get used to, all the way to Sturgis. If you come with me, you’ll see for yourself that little Robby’s okay. But if you don’t come with me…” His pause of silence drew out the threatening possibilities. “Well, I’m sure you can imagine what might happen to a teenage kid playing with the big boys. Danger that could be prevented if you come with me. If we rescue him together.”