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  “Never,” she shot back.

  “Then I can’t be responsible for what happens to him, right as he turns eighteen. He won’t be a juvenile delinquent anymore. He’ll be an adult facing serious jail time.”

  “No!” Layla rushed forward and slashed her arms through the air in front of Jack, as if she could physically prevent that possibility. “ No ,” she demanded again to his face.

  “ Yes . Oh, yes, Layla. But that’s up to you.” Jack drew an index finger down her cheek. She recoiled, slapped his hand away. He glowered at her. “Whatever you choose, it will alter your brother’s life. Only you can decide which fate is in his future.”

  Chapter 17

  Seconds passed in silence.

  Blake dropped his chin to his chest, hooking his thumbs through his front belt loops. It felt like each of his major organs shut down as the minutes ticked by.

  This was it. They had arrived at their first make-it-or-break-it test of trust.

  True, he could risk a bullet and race over to her. Or he could shout reminders of all of Johnson’s grievous offenses, his bone-deep cruelty and heartlessness. Blake could take any number of actions. None mattered.

  Everything came down to the duty Layla carried inside her, woven into every fiber of her being. Her duty to her brother.

  Whoever she believed best fit to help lead her to Rob, that’s who she’d choose.

  The proof lay in the question she’d issues to Johnson. Blake didn’t look up, only listened to the tension-packed pauses between her questions as she asked, “Jack, how do you know so much about my brother? What part do you play in all of this?”

  Blake looked up, startled by her brilliance. Why hadn’t he considered that?

  There sure seemed to be another layer of subtext going on here. After all, Jack was carrying out some primary mission in South Dakota, confirmed by Officer Munson.

  Did it intertwine with Layla’s objective? Was the bigger picture more complex and intertwined than Blake had first assumed?

  “Jack,” she prompted quietly, “I’m not moving until you answer me.”

  Johnson’s eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “You’re either lying about this whole thing, or you’re controlling it somehow. I want to know where you stand.”

  “Then know this.” Johnson straightened. Rays of late-afternoon sunlight slanted against his back and cast a shadow of menace over Layla. She shivered but didn’t budge. “If you don’t come with me now, you will beg for my help later.”

  “Why? What power do you have?”

  “All the power I need to make you come back to me.”

  “Are you going to threaten Robby somehow?”

  “Don’t need to. He’s riding with a biker gang, Layla. They’re bad people who do very bad things—the illegal kind that I’ll be watching and waiting for.”

  “So you can’t tell me right this second exactly where Robby is.”

  “I know who he’s with!” Jack hollered in her face. Blake’s nostrils flared but he kept still. “When I bust them, your brother will be there, too, on the ground in handcuffs. Who but me knows he’s just an innocent kid who got in with the wrong people? Who but me will let him go before the local police haul everybody to jail?”

  So this was police business, undercover work, Blake realized. With a handy blackmail element Johnson would take advantage of in a hot minute. The same MO he’d used against Blake last year.

  “You need me, Layla,” Jack continued. “Your brother needs me.”

  Layla’s silence was profound. The quiet hit Blake like a clap of thunder and reverberated through him, rattling his insides like empty jars shaking on a glass shelf.

  “I’m the one thing standing between his big, bright future and jail time. Only you can save him. If you come with me.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ears, hands trembling slightly. “And if I don’t?”

  Jack snarled, “Then you can visit little Robby behind bars.”

  Blake watched Layla’s expression cool, then harden. “I guess you’ve made up your mind, then.”

  “I’m waiting for you to make up yours!”

  “My brother will still be your target. No matter what I do. Even if I go with you.”

  “But I can save him, Layla.” Now Johnson was the one trembling. “I’d risk my badge for you.”

  She drew herself up, her body taut and unyielding. “I’d never leave my brother’s fate in your hands. And I will never come back to you.”

  Blake began to breathe again.

  “You say that now,” Johnson replied, steadying his voice. But Blake saw a vein throb in Jack’s neck, betraying the effort it took him to remain under control. “I wonder if you’ll feel the same when Rob’s in my police car and I’m taking him into custody, when one little word from you will make all the difference. I think you’ll change your mind.”

  “I guess we’ll see. Won’t we?”

  Jack’s jaw dropped, disbelief widening his eyes. “You’re not coming?”

  “Oh, I’m coming to Sturgis,” she told him, her eyes flashing. “Just not with you.”

  Johnson spluttered incoherent words of shock, disconnected pleas, irate warnings.

  Layla held up her hand. Blake felt the brokenness inside him weld back together with her words. “Take your threats elsewhere, Jack. They won’t work on me anymore.”

  “Then I know what will.” Johnson raised his hand.

  Thoughts fled. In the next moment Blake sprang.

  Any second he expected to feel a bullet rip through his flesh but he’d still break every bone in Johnson’s hand, maybe his skull too, before he’d let the guy touch Layla.

  Within two thundering heartbeats Blake had Johnson’s arm twisted behind his back, pinned against his car. Blake spared a brief glance at the passenger, stunned to find the man hadn’t raised his gun.

  The guy stood relaxed, contentedly watching. A single, almost imperceptible nod answered Blake’s questioning glance. The guy almost seemed to be encouraging Blake.

  The wordless reassurance drew more curiosity than it resolved. But it was enough.

  Blake returned his attention to Johnson, who cringed and hissed in pain. “Get your hands off me. I’m a cop, you freak.”

  A scathing, humorless laugh escaped Blake’s tight jaw. “A freak, huh? Why, because I can break you with one hand—without using a badge or a gun?”

  “You’re assaulting an officer. I have a witness!” Jack choked out as Blake’s forearm crushed his windpipe.

  “So do I.” He flicked a glance back at Layla, who’d turned an unhealthy shade of white. Blake turned back and said in Jack’s face, “She’s under my protection from now on. I suggest you stay the hell away from of us. And Rob. Am I clear?” He added just the right amount of pressure to Jack’s twisted wrist. “Or do I need to give you a little more incentive?”

  “It’s clear,” Johnson managed hoarsely.

  “Here’s how it’s going to work. I’ll release you. You’ll get into your car—” Blake intensified the pressure to force a sound of compliance “—and you’ll stay there until Layla and I get on the bike and onto the freeway. Everything clear so far?”

  Johnson’s nod was jerky and desperate.

  “When I look back in my mirrors, I’d better not see you. And I mean for the rest of our trip. Or I’ll drag you onto the side of the road and finish this. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Jack gurgled in agony.

  Blake nodded. “Finally we’re coming to understand one another.”

  Before removing his vice grip on Johnson, Blake raised his eyes to the passenger. One side of the man’s mouth hitched upward, the thin line of his black goatee curving around the hint of a smile. They looked at each other over the dark roof of the car.

  Then Blake’s gaze fell to the passenger’s hand. The gun hadn’t moved.

  Blake believed he and Layla would be safe. As if to underscore the belief, the passenger offered another brief n
od.

  Then the man followed that with a startling gesture. A familiar one. He made a peace sign with his left hand, crossed his arm over his chest and tapped the two fingers under his right shoulder twice. Peace out —the way Rob always said “goodbye.”

  Blake froze. The guy knew Rob.

  That was the best explanation for the silent code he’d been relaying to Blake since the wink. Again, more questions rose up instead of answers, but this was a start. More to go on than they’d had before. It looked like Jack’s untimely arrival had resulted in an advantage. An unexpected ally. Thank you, Johnson .

  Blake shifted his concentration down to Jack, who hadn’t noticed Blake’s interchange with the passenger. Too busy squirming under excruciating pain. As an added reminder, Blake said, “You’re going to get back in your car, Jack. And you’re going to let Layla leave. No more threats. Right?”

  Johnson nodded.

  “Good.” Blake released him, turned his back and walked away.

  Blake’s gaze locked with Layla’s. Fear clashed with relief in those deep blue depths.

  All Blake wanted was to pull her into his arms and hold her for an eternity. But they didn’t have a second to spare.

  Assuming Johnson kept his word.

  Of course, he didn’t.

  Blake only had to see Layla’s eyes widen and her mouth open around a shout of warning. He’d expected Johnson’s betrayal.

  Whipping around, Blake ducked, twisted and narrowly avoided the stunning jolt of Jack’s Taser. “I’ve had enough of your sorry ass,” he spat.

  Blake moved with lightening precision. He landed a cross-chop on Johnson’s wrist. A howl ripped through the air. The Taser dropped to the ground. Blake kicked it toward Layla, but he wasn’t finished with Johnson yet. While Jack gripped his pained wrist, Blake deftly snatched both of Jack’s guns from the holsters and snapped them apart. Emptying the rounds, Blake stuck them in his back pockets and threw the empty weapons at Johnson’s feet.

  Jack threw Blake a vicious scowl. “What now, Black Belt Boy? You gonna attack me with one of your kung-fu moves?”

  Blake stood calmly in front of him. “Nope.”

  “What then?” Jack dropped his wrist to go on the defensive, his hands slicing the air like some bad B movie actor. “C’mon, Desanto. Give me your best Karate Kid crane move. I’m ready. Wax on, wax off, right?” he mocked with a sneer.

  “Sure, Johnson.” Blake smiled. Then he hauled back and slammed his fist into Johnson’s jaw, snapping the guy’s head back. The loud crack of knuckles hitting bone frightened a nearby flock of crows that took off into the blue sky above them. “That was way more satisfying. And its judo, asshole.”

  Jack came to, shook his head to clear it and refocused his eyes. Just in time to see Layla snuggled against Blake as they took off on Blake’s Harley. While helpless anger built inside him, he followed their trail with his gaze, heard the roar of tail pipes as Blake’s back tire kicked up clumps of muddy earth. They raced through the bumpy parking lot as if Blake drove an off-road dirt bike, not a thirty-thousand-dollar Harley. Then wheat fields swallowed them from the waist down until Blake mounted the entrance ramp and zipped up the freeway. Jack lost them.

  He’d lost her, his precious Layla.

  Something thick and indecipherable began to build in the hollow reaches of his heart.

  Jack released a cry of agony. His worthless shout drove the flock of birds back into the sky, black against blue. At the same time he felt an angry bruise forming under his left eye. It tightened, throbbed.

  Futility drenched his hopes until they dripped with vengeance. That bastard. How dare he? How dare he?

  Blake doesn’t matter . Jack hauled his battered body up from the ground, swayed slightly until he gripped the open window to anchor himself. Layla mattered. He couldn’t let Blake distract him from what mattered, here. Desanto was a nuisance. Nothing more. So was his sidekick.

  His gaze snapped to Carlos. “What the hell’s your problem?” Jack hollered at him, and Carlos blinked innocently.

  “What, man? You said you could handle him, that I was a just precaution and shouldn’t interfere.”

  “Yes,” Jack growled. “A precaution against getting my face split open!”

  Johnny spread his hands. “Just following orders, dude.”

  “Yeah, well, feel free to stray when the mood strikes. Dickhead.”

  “I told you I wasn’t good at fake-outs. I work drug deals. Not pansy threats.”

  “Then you stick to what you’re good at, and the rest of this trip should go according to plan,” Jack said through his teeth. Then muttered, “Something’s got to.”

  “You think she’ll come back to you, man? After the bust, and all that?”

  Jack didn’t like the breezy way Johnny said that. As if he were speaking of some hypothetical, and not the real, pending drug bust they were about to pull off. It sounded like Johnny wasn’t taking this seriously. Jack’s final chance to have the life he wanted, and deserved. “You think something’s amusing about all this?”

  “Naw, man.” Johnny shrugged. “Just asking.”

  “I’m the undercover officer. That means I get to ask the questions. Not you. Let’s get out of here.” Jack shielded his eyes, spotting police lights in the distance. “Before the boys in blue show up and ask questions I don’t feel like answering.”

  “For the record, I won’t tell anybody that dude whooped your ass.”

  Jack’s glare was glacial, accompanied by a frosty smile. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a waste of a life. C’mon, Johnny. We’ve got business to take care of. This is our last rodeo. Let’s make it count.”

  They both slid into the car.

  Jack started up the engine and raced out of the lot, onto the freeway and out of sight of the local police. Someone from the fair must’ve seen the argument. Guns flashing and fists flailing had that effect, he imagined.

  It would be nothing compared to the effect on Layla of seeing her brother getting hauled off to jail. Jack only had to get to him first.

  The rest would be smooth sailing. Jack would have Layla back in his arms. Three more days, the deal would go down, and she’d be his for life.

  If Desanto got in his way again, Jack would just have to remove him.

  Permanently.

  *

  Layla had overestimated her physical resilience—to corndogs and fries, the carnival rides, and Jack’s reappearance.

  The combination ate away at her stomach, her nerves, and fueled her mounting fear until she felt like she was going to be sick. She knew why Blake had swerved through traffic the entire way, driving the motorcycle at a relentless pace. They had to lose Jack. But the ride had taken its toll.

  She thanked every saint she could think of when Blake veered off the highway into the first rest stop, a miserable ninety miles later. Her misery intensified when they passed rows of trucks fueling up at the gas station. Fumes seeped into her helmet and lingered there. Bile rose in her throat.

  When they pulled into a parking space, she tore off her helmet. Layla pitched forward as Blake extracted himself from the seat. She held her roiling stomach.

  He propped his helmet on the tank. Turning to her, his brows drew together in immediate concern.

  Throat lumpy and tight from trying to hold back her sobs, her sick feeling, and her fear, she murmured, “Blake, I don’t feel well.”

  Quickly he lifted her off the motorcycle’s leather seat. She made it to the tall weeds behind the tourist information building before the contents of her stomach rolled up and demanded immediate relief.

  Blake held her hair back. When he wiped the sweat from her forehead his fingers felt cool, comforting, offering exactly what she needed. He left for a minute and returned with bottled water. She took a few swigs.

  Gathering her damp hair away from her temples, he asked, “Better now?”

  A nod preceded one last upheaval, which reduced to a dry heave. She grimaced at the whole
sordid mess. “This is so gross.”

  “Baby, it happens.”

  “Usually without witnesses.”

  He shrugged, smoothing a broad hand down her back. “This is nothing. My brother’s hangovers were way worse than this when he went on a binge, before he finally got sober. Trust me. I’ve seen it all.”

  “You’re good at taking care of people,” she whispered.

  His eyes softened. “I want to take care of you.”

  Her lashes swept up and she held his heartfelt gaze. So much feeling…so much…

  The wetness she tried to stifle seeped into her eyes, rimming her lashes. “I’m sorry about this. About everything, Blake.”

  A few weeds nestled beside her, where she crouched against the cinder blocks of the building’s foundation, and she pulled the one that drooped closest into her lap. She caressed the plant’s soft, vulnerable purple tuft as she spoke. “I never meant for this to happen. I’m sure when you agreed to take me, you never imagined I’d be so much trouble. This trip has been hell for you.”

  “Layla.”

  Her gaze remained fixed on the flower cradled in her palm.

  “Look at me,” Blake coaxed softly.

  She let go of the plant and it sprang back up. She lifted her gaze to his.

  “I’ve wanted a second chance with you, and I would’ve continued wanting it for the rest of my life, if it hadn’t been for this trip.”

  She poured her heart into her words. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Blake.”

  “That,” he said, tracing the shape of her face with his index finger, “makes it all worth it.”

  He reached out, gathering her to him. Layla let herself be held. She pressed her cheek against his chest and rested in the cradle of his arms. The feeling of safety soaked through her, soothing the knots in her muscles and settling the tension in her stomach.

  A quiet sense of peace drifted through her veins. A feeling she wanted desperately to get used to, the one feeling she’d had and lost with Kenny, and had never found since. Until she’d found Blake. She nestled tighter against him and he held her close. The nearness wasn’t close enough. She wanted to feel all of him, wanted him inside her, in an act that would weave together their physical bodies and their emotional chemistry into a single braid of intimacy.