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  “You came back soaked to the bone. I tried to close the door, but you said to leave it open, just in case she came by, in case she needed you. Does she know about all the times you left that door open for her?”

  Blake shook his head. “We’ve talked about a lot of things. That isn’t one of them. It’s been a packed forty-eight hours.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet,” Tanner snorted.

  “We ran into trouble.” Blake leveled a look across the seat at his brother. “By the name of Jack Johnson.”

  Tanner did a double-take. “Where’s this information been in the last four hours?”

  Nodding at Layla, sleeping between them, he said, “I didn’t want to rehash it in front of her. She’s been through enough.”

  Since Layla was sound asleep, Blake took the opportunity to fill Tanner in on what was going on with Rob, Jack, and the latest development between himself and Layla.

  Tanner was instantly on board, volunteering to help find Rob. Jack was fair game for him, too, since Tanner had sworn the same revenge as Blake for the death of their parents at the hands of Johnson’s negligence.

  “I want to bust that son-of-a-bitch.” Tanner pounded a fist against the steering wheel. He stretched and cracked the fingers of his left hand, then shook it out. His hands were stiff from white-knuckling it the whole way.

  Blake knew Tanner hated driving any vehicle with doors long distances. He preferred the control a motorcycle offered, along with the instant escape option in the event of a collision. Their parents had been trapped in the car by seatbelts and crushed metal.

  Trapped was not a sensation Tanner handled well.

  He asked Blake, “Do you have any evidence he’s stalking her? That might help our case, to show the courts he’s about as stable as a two-legged chair.”

  “Nothing concrete so far, except for what I told you about Officer Munson’s involvement. And why are you still driving? Next stop, pull over. I’ll take the wheel.”

  “I’ll be okay for a while yet. Though I’d be fine with that trade—I’ve never said no to a hot chick’s head in my lap.”

  “Don’t make me reach across this seat and put the smack-down on your ass.”

  “You’re too easy.” Tanner looked pleased with himself, having discovered something new to hassle Blake about. He cracked all ten knuckles, shook them out and draped one arm over Layla’s thigh like an armrest.

  “I wasn’t kidding.” Blake looked pointedly at the spot where his brother was casually leaning on Layla.

  “Hey, if this is my future sister-in-law, then I’ll treat her like a sister. That means being comfortable enough to sit next to her without worrying you’ll take something out of context. It’s not like I’m going to bang her.”

  “You’re damn right.” Blake completed the sentence through clenched teeth.

  Tanner exhaled and didn’t budge. “You know, that’s another thing. You want to hang on to her this time, you need to relax and get over that jealousy thing. I saw what it did to you this entire year. It ate you up, man. Every time something made you think of Layla being with that cop, you tortured yourself. Why?”

  “I’m an idiot.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. So quit it. It’s going to ruin what you’ve got, if you let the past interfere where it’s got no business being.”

  “I thought I was the philosopher in the family.”

  “I just call it like I see it. You’re the one who has to make the change.”

  Yeah, he knew that. Easier said than done. Blake gazed down at Layla. “The more you care, the more you’ve got to lose.”

  “Then don’t give her a reason to duck out. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I hear you.” Blake sighed. “Thanks, Tanner.”

  “Yep.”

  Blake couldn’t help the adoring smile that slid onto his lips. “She does make a gorgeous armrest, doesn’t she?”

  Tanner agreed, eyeing the goods. “A damn fine one.”

  Blake arched an eyebrow in warning. “Look at her like that again, and I will reach across this seat.”

  “Boy, don’t make me turn this truck around.”

  “Boy? Who are you calling boy —little brother?”

  Tanner grinned.

  Blake raised an authoritative eyebrow and tossed him a half-smile. He kicked back, but what he felt was a false sense of ease.

  Because sooner or later, in the next few days, they were going to cross paths with Jack Johnson again. Blake didn’t want the result of this trip to be Layla, Rob and Tanner riding back to Cleveland, while Blake looked out from behind jail bars in South Dakota facing a murder rap.

  Blake looked down and saw he’d clenched the hand resting on his thigh. He released his fist and flattened his fingers on his worn-in jeans.

  Maybe his own vendetta ran that deep, but this trip wasn’t about him. It was about helping Layla find her brother. About being there for the woman he was falling in love with all over again.

  She chose you , he reminded himself, remembering the moment his crumbling heart had been restored in his chest. Jack didn’t present the same threat he did a year ago.

  No, Blake thought grimly. This threat was almost worse.

  If Johnson did anything to hurt Rob or lure him into trouble, it would be the end of Rob’s freedom. The damage to his record would haunt the kid for the rest of his life. Rob didn’t deserve that kind of sentence, even if he had made a bad choice and gotten in over his head.

  One solution remained. Blake had to get to Rob before Jack did.

  Once again, the two of them were pitted against each other, Blake versus Jack, racing against time. The one advantage Blake had over Johnson now was that his heart wasn’t exposed on his sleeve anymore. It rested in the palms of the woman sleeping in his lap. He hoped she’d keep it safe while he did battle for her brother.

  Whether Layla knew it or not, Blake wasn’t about to let her get near this mess. She probably wouldn’t appreciate the overprotective gesture. At all. He knew that. Still, there was no way he’d let her face life-threatening danger. Not after he just got her back.

  But he’d fight that battle with her when they came to it. In the meantime, he had to keep her safe, find Rob, and stop himself from killing Johnson.

  Piece of cake , he thought grimly. He sat back and tried to sleep, since he and Layla hadn’t done much of that last night. Too many scenarios cluttered his mind.

  Problem was, he couldn’t predict or control the outcome. There were missing pieces scattered all over this board. The more Blake thought about it, the more he came back to the same conclusion.

  If he could find out who that guy was with Jack—the one who obviously knew Rob, and who’d taken Blake’s side over Jack’s—Blake suspected the whole picture might suddenly come out clear.

  So they were really looking for two people. Amidst some five-hundred thousand.

  Perfect , he thought shaking his head. He stared ahead stoically, jaw set, and decided to welcome the challenge. Let the games begin .

  *

  Every hour they drove brought Layla steadily closer to her brother.

  As miles of flatland whizzed by, and daylight turned to dusk, their narrowing timeline consumed her thoughts. It was Thursday evening. They’d be in Sturgis by Friday morning. Would they get Robby home by Tuesday night, in time for his court appearance Wednesday when he turned eighteen?

  Lord. Robby would be eighteen in six days. Layla’s eyebrows drew together at the implications. Her baby brother was now an adult . No longer a teen she could shield from life’s harsher realities that she’d wished someone had been there to protect her from. A very independent young adult who would want to go on and create his own life, separate from her. Her eyes moistened. How had the years gone so fast?

  She sent a troubled glance out the passenger window, beyond Blake. Shadows lengthened and fanned out behind them. Eleven more hours to go…

  Then her eyes refocused on the profile of the man at her side. She wished sh
e felt as relaxed and calm as he looked. His head rested on the back of the leather seat, tall form slouched in sleep, hands folded over his lean stomach. Hands that had touched her in incredible ways and made her feel incredible things in the past forty-eight hours. They were beautifully formed like the rest of him and equally as powerful.

  After everything they’d been through, she wanted to believe she could count on his strength. Now more than ever she might have to. Especially with the threat of Jack lurking around every corner, watching, waiting for just the right moment to pounce—on her or her brother, whichever opportunity knocked first.

  She gulped. Taking a few deep breaths, she examined the strength of her fear. It wasn’t nearly as overpowering as it had once been. It seemed that standing up to Jack, when they’d stood face to face out in front of the fair, had emboldened her more than she’d realized.

  Although residual fear still lingered like a gnawing at the base of her spine, it was nothing compared to the paralyzing anxiety that had driven her to obedience, enforced by his invisible weapons of guilt and passive-aggressiveness he had once wielded over her.

  Jack would no longer enjoy such unchecked command over her. He had always turned her fears against her. Well, no more. She couldn’t let fear rule her life anymore—no matter that she harbored the private, irrational fear that Blake might leave her again.

  A rush of unnamable emotion surged through her. Unable to stop herself she reached out to him, smoothing a few strands of hair back from his face. She let her fingertips trail down his chiseled cheeks and jaw. Streetlamps flickered on over the highway and bathed his features in blue-white light at random intervals.

  In sleep his face turned toward her hand and nuzzled her palm.

  Awareness zinged through her, followed by a few licks of desire low in her abdomen. She brushed a light kiss to his lips and leaned her head on his shoulder. His cheek rested against the top of her head as she snuggled into him.

  Even sound asleep the man was affectionate. And even asleep the power of his presence enfolded her in its protective essence.

  When she woke at dawn, the sun just rising over the Black Hills of South Dakota, anxious enthusiasm gripped her.

  It couldn’t be much longer before they reached Sturgis, right?

  “Is this Sturgis?” she asked Blake. Evidently while she slept he’d woken up to take over driving, and now was maneuvering the truck and trailer through the narrow streets of a small town. Motorcycles were everywhere, but it seemed a little tame compared to the description the brothers had shared during the drive.

  Both men roared with laughter.

  “No, baby,” Blake said. “Trust me. You’ll know when we get to Sturgis.”

  “Then what are we doing here?”

  “Dropping off my crap,” Tanner said. “I’m holing up here for the next week.”

  “But I thought we were staying in Sturgis.”

  “You and I will be, assuming Frank got my message and found us a place last-minute.” Blake steered deftly around a tight corner and into a parking lot. “See, Sturgis is booked up as far as six months in advance, so it’s usually impossible to get a place in town. I’m hoping Frank will make one exception.”

  “Normally every year we stay here in Cheyenne Crossing.”

  “At a bed and breakfast. Not as scenic as Dottie Mae’s, but it works for us. It’s about twenty-five miles southwest of Sturgis. Then we ride in from here.”

  “I like my peace and quiet.” Tanner opened the door when Blake pulled the truck horizontally along the curb at the back of the lot. “No pipes roaring past at all hours of the night. Being front and center of the action isn’t all that great.”

  “But we have to be,” Layla said anxiously.

  “We will, baby. This is just a stop along the way. Someplace we can shower, change, eat breakfast. All that good stuff before we head in.”

  “Actually, that sounds good.” She could use a shower to work out the kinks of sleeping in the truck. They grabbed their things and headed inside, upstairs.

  Layla emerged from the steam fifteen minutes later with a towel wrapped around her. She almost tripped over Blake’s biker boots. It seemed he’d been waiting for her outside the bathroom door. He held out a flat box.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Open it.”

  Layla removed the lid, unfolded the tissue paper and held up a very skimpy, very sexy leather tank top with black lacing up the front. It looked like a corset with straps.

  She eyed him over the garment. “Isn’t this the sort of thing I should wear in the bedroom, when we bring out the whips and chains?”

  He grinned slightly. “Just put it on. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.”

  “If you say so…”

  And did she get an eyeful.

  Because nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared her for the moment they roared on Harleys through the main drag of Sturgis, South Dakota.

  Chapter 22

  Not hundreds, not thousands, but hundreds of thousands of motorcycles packed the streets of Sturgis and spilled over into the surrounding territory throughout the Black Hills of South Dakota.

  Acres of chrome glittered in the hot sunlight. Bikes and bikers crowded the streets, especially the main strip of Sturgis. Layla pulled off her helmet. She held onto Blake’s bare arms and peered around the brim of his hat, trying to take it all in.

  Above the steady thrum of pipes, she swore she heard Guns n’ Roses playing “Welcome to the Jungle.”

  Or maybe that was just her interpretation. But it fit.

  Tanner rode his motorcycle beside Blake’s. The brothers were a sight all their own. They made being bad look so good.

  The two of them were shirtless in black leather vests. When they gripped the handlebars every muscle bulged along their arms. They both had that Dirty Harry look perfected, their faces and bodies chiseled and tan head to toe, just begging to be noticed.

  Blake wore his hair down with a flat-brimmed hat resembling Richie Sambora’s from the “Wanted Dead or Alive” Bon Jovi music video. It looked stunning on Blake. All he needed was a long dark coat and he’d be the hottest outlaw she’d ever laid eyes on.

  Tanner wore a leather skullcap that tied in the back, his dark wavy hair spilling down to his shoulders. A pair of mirrored shades added to the dynamic effect.

  And the two of them side by side? Talk about impact.

  It filled her with a strange giddiness to be with these ultra sexy men, surrounded by a bunch of bad-ass bikers from all over the country.

  As she glanced around, a realization sank in.

  If not for Blake, she wouldn’t be here. There was no way she would’ve found her brother if she’d attempted this alone. The sheer multitude would have left her hopeless, if the intimidation didn’t force her back home the minute she arrived.

  She began to suspect Blake’s initial offer to take her to Sturgis stemmed as much from his concern for her well-being as for her brother’s. This place would have chewed her up and spit her out, going on sight and reputation alone.

  And what was with bikers and boobs, she wanted to know? First, those guys in the Handle Bar wanted her to take off her shirt, and now everywhere she turned that’s all she saw. Breasts. Large, small, any size seemed in demand. There were women all along the main strip under umbrellas and cloth tents advertising every bottle of beer in existence, and they had on little except bikini tops and Daisy-Duke shorts.

  Understanding dawned about Blake’s clothing purchase for her. Self-consciously, she held her hand to the laced-up front, checking for exposure. That morning she’d tried lacing her top all the way up, but it had given her too much of a boost. So she loosened the laces down to the undersides of her breasts, but that gave a full showcase of cleavage. Blake said it looked perfect. Layla supposed it beat falling out of the darn thing in public.

  A piercing whistle made her head whip around. “Hey, sexy thing!” some guy shouted at her.
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br />   She dropped her hand from her chest, mortified. Blake turned. Layla read the warning in his profile. The random guy melted into the crowd, and Blake faced front.

  The entire main drag was set up like one giant showcase. Motorcycles were parked in a double-row down the center of the street, more bikes packed both curbs, and two open lanes allowed bikers to ride as many as four across, one-way. She remembered Blake referred to it as “parading.”

  She funneled her attention from the overwhelming experience back to her main purpose. Robby. If they toured through the center of the action, she might spot her brother much sooner than if they parked the bikes and walked.

  They cruised the strip, rumbling along slowly. While Layla searched every passing face for signs of her brother, she noticed something else. The object of the parading game was to get noticed. Blake and Tanner had definitely dressed for the occasion. As had thousands of other bikers who were making the rounds through Sturgis along with them.

  Occasionally a woman would stand up on the back of her man’s bike, lift her shirt, and offer a show to anyone who happened to be looking. It was out of control. But pretty soon Layla got used to it. In a way, she appreciated women gutsy enough to strut their stuff. They were having a blast and loving the attention.

  Looking around—hoping to spot her brother’s big blue eyes, mop of curly black hair and the glint of sunlight from his lip ring—she saw everybody having a great time. People laughed, drank, shopped, inspected the most impressive motorcycles, and seemed to be enjoying the moment.

  People with a dangerous edge always seemed to live in the moment. They didn’t rely on the future and they didn’t drag the past around with them, either.

  A freewheeling group from all over the states gathered together under a common theme—the love of motorcycles. She began to understand how someone could get swept up into this passion for freedom. That passion created its own camaraderie built on mutual interest and respect, its most prominent flag boasting the Harley-Davidson logo.