All the Way Page 28

  Suddenly Blake tensed around her. He swatted her rump. “I need up. Trouble’s brewing.”

  Layla leaped off the table. Was it Robby? Blake moved away too quickly to ask.

  She tried to follow him, but the mob squeezed together, blocking her way. So she stood on the chair Blake had shoved away to see what the fuss was about. At the same time she scanned for signs of her brother. From her new height she saw a crowd had formed around two meatheads who spent way too much time at the gym.

  The band played on, but she saw Tanner whistle through his fingers and Blake answered him with a hand signal. The meatheads paced around each other. They were preparing to let fists fly. She braced herself to witness a nasty brawl.

  Layla glanced at the stage. The band was absent a front man.

  “Don’t tell me they’re going to…” She saw Blake and Tanner lunge into the fray. Her hands flew to her hips. “Oh, brilliant, guys. Go jump right in the middle of it.”

  They both reacted quickly, like they’d done this before. They each grabbed a meathead and pulled him back. The one Blake retained didn’t seem to appreciate the interference. He took a swing, and it clipped Tanner’s jaw. Blake flipped the guy flat on the ground before she could blink, his boot against the man’s throat.

  Tanner held the other one back by sheer might. He shouted, “It’s not worth it, man. Let it go.”

  In under a minute, the brothers had diffused what could’ve escalated into a bloody, bar-wide brawl.

  Layla pushed through the crowd toward the bar. Quickly she flagged a bartender and asked for an ice-filled cloth. While she waited, she turned back anxiously toward where the fight had nearly broken out. It seemed several bouncers were escorting the meatheads out of the bar. The Desanto brothers were both in one piece. Still, Tanner would need ice to reduce the swelling.

  Growing antsy, feeling the hum of energy ignite throughout the place, she distracted herself by listening to two rough-looking guys next to her at the bar. Strange patches covered their vests. A skull with vines encasing it caught her attention for some reason, like it was familiar. The man said, “I could’ve used a fight tonight. Wish I’d jumped in before they broke it up.”

  “No way, man. Lay low. You know what’s coming in tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah. Huge deal going down. Is Big Red still working through that cop?”

  Layla stilled.

  “S’far as I know.”

  “The cop always comes through, I guess. Seems like a risk, trusting a blue, out of state like he is.”

  Layla swallowed hard and tried to keep her hands from shaking.

  The man with the bandana around his head and that formidable patch shrugged. “S’long as we’ve got Johnny playing the middle, we’re cool.”

  “Guess so. C’mon, let’s move. That girl over there’s about to take her shirt off.”

  The two ambled away. Layla watched their backs until they disappeared. They hadn’t noticed her eavesdropping, but she’d memorized their every word.

  Could they be talking about Jack?

  Maybe their conversation could shift her search into better focus?

  Absently she received the iced cloth from the bartender and brought it to where Tanner stood near their table. He arched an eyebrow and accepted. “Thanks.”

  “After raising my little brother, I know the cure for any injury.” She sounded a little too bright, she realized. But her mind was on other things. She blinked and looked up at Tanner. “With your view from the stage, have you seen Robby in here tonight?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, Layla. No sign of him yet.”

  A distracted frown pulled at her lips. “I haven’t seen him, either.”

  “The kid’s lucky to have a sister like you.” Tanner held the cold cloth to his jaw.

  “I doubt he thinks so.” Her gaze dropped to the floor.

  The fight officially over, Blake arrived at her side in time to hear her comment. “You’re wrong, baby. He looks up to you more than anyone.”

  “More than you?” she asked, startled by the discovery.

  “Yes. But I’m not related to him, so he actually listens to me.”

  Tanner said, “You two make a good team. Together you’ll get that kid home in the next four days, no problem.”

  The reminder of how little time she had left flooded her with worry. “I hope you’re right.”

  “How’s the jaw?” Blake turned to Tanner.

  “Still attached.”

  “More ice?” Layla offered, thinking she might be able to steal more details from those two gang members.

  “Nah, but I’ll sit with it another minute to stop the swelling.” He looked at Blake. “Feel like taking over, bro? Just for a song or two?”

  Blake scratched his neck. “I don’t know. It’s been ages since I played for an audience. Since our talent show days, man.”

  “One song.”

  He nodded reluctantly. “Only because you asked.”

  Intrigued at the revelation of Blake’s musical talent, Layla set aside her thoughts of the gang members for a minute and watched him mount the stage. He slid the guitar strap on, played a few chords to warm up and adjusted the mic.

  “I know you’ve been listening to seventies and eighties rock, but I want to step it up a few decades. The song’s by Nickelback, called ‘Feelin’ Way Too Damn Good.’”

  By the time Blake played the intro, the band caught on to the beat. It sounded like she was back at the pavilion last year, when Blake had treated her and Rob to the concert. When Blake and Layla’s dormant attraction ignited fully between them.

  “My gosh, I never knew he could sing like that. He sounds just like the CD!”

  “I bet my brother’s been full of surprises on this trip.”

  Layla tilted her head curiously. “Why do you say that?”

  Tanner lifted a shoulder and nodded at his brother. “Listen to the song he picked, the words he’s singing. It’s about you.”

  Surprised by Tanner’s bold assertion, she tuned in. Blake sang about falling in love, and finding his heart facedown. How the two of them should probably start to fight, because something had to wrong—things were way too damn good.

  “So here’s my idea,” Tanner said, eyeing her flushed cheeks. “You two cut out all the crap from the past. Admit you love each other, because any idiot can tell anyway. Get hitched. And live happily ever after. Because one of us needs to carry on the family name, and it’s not going to be me.”

  Layla smiled and threw him a sidelong glance. “Is that right?”

  “Do the world a favor and stop acting like you’re clueless that my brother’s totally in love with you.”

  Layla’s heart stopped. Her eyes widened. “Did he say that?”

  “Like he had to.”

  “Then how do you know?”

  Tanner scoffed. “Why is it the people who can’t live without each other are the last ones to figure that out?”

  “How do you know so much about love anyway?”

  “Been there. Once.”

  “And?”

  His eyes shuttered. “And now I know it when I see it. But if you take too long, it won’t wait.” He picked up an abandoned beer bottle, contemplated the amber liquid at its bottom and tossed it in a trash barrel. “Not even ‘til you’re sober.”

  Layla could almost feel the pain he hid behind that handsome, careless smile. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Shrugging, he tossed the rag on the table. Blake’s song had ended. “Thanks for the ice.”

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  “For what it’s worth.”

  “A lot, coming from you,” she said sincerely.

  He winked and headed to the stage. The brothers clasped hands, Blake hauled Tanner up, and they traded places. Cheers and applause followed Blake offstage.

  Tanner said into the mic, “The guy can carry a tune, can’t he?” A chorus of feminine whoops and whistles rose up. “Sorry, ladies, he’s taken.” He th
rew out a dynamic grin. “But I’m not.”

  The next song that sailed from the speakers brought a private smile to her lips. Going back to 80s cover tunes, Tanner wailed on guitar and nailed the vocals—Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again on My Own.” Fitting, after what he’d revealed.

  Tanner seemed the type not to waste his breath unless he meant what he said. Blake had been singing to her. She held bad-boy Blak e Desanto’s heart in her hands? It seemed almost surreal after the year it took them to return to where they started.

  Blake—the man who had resembled a god the first time she walked up his driveway to get Robby, the man she’d once secretly hoped might give her a second glance, maybe even the time of day—was now walking across a crowded room toward her. Layla memorized this moment. His smooth, confident stride, the straight hair that brushed his muscular shoulders, his black vest open to show off his toned body, his green eyes locked on her like she was the only person in the room.

  When he reached her, she stood on her toes and pulled him into a kiss. After a minute he came up for air. “Do I get one of those every time I serenade you?”

  A blush of awareness seeped into her cheeks. “I’ll do one better if you give me my own private show.”

  “Check please.” He took her hand and led her to the bar where their tab waited, paid, and tugged her out of the saloon.

  “Shouldn’t we stay in case Robby shows up?” She paused on the sidewalk.

  “Tanner said he’d keep a look out. There are plenty more bars where Rob could be. We can’t stay put all night and waste valuable search time.”

  “Blake…” She took a deep breath and plunged ahead with her suspicion. “I think I overheard something important.”

  “Back there?” He nodded behind him at The Full Throttle as they kept walking.

  Layla repeated what she’d heard. Blake agreed it seemed like the out-of-state cop they mentioned could’ve been Jack. She added, “And they were gang members. Just like the ones from that small bar across the motel where we stayed. Where they almost fought you over that pool game you won.”

  Blake stopped. His hand tightened over hers. “Did one of them recognize you?”

  “No. I recognized him. I don’t think it was that same guy, but he wore an identical patch as the man from the pool game. A skull with vines wrapped around it.”

  Blake nodded grimly. “Yep. Sounds like the same group. If that guy from the motel bar knew Rob, so would that man you overheard in the Full Throttle.” He exhaled gruffly. “I wish there hadn’t been a fight over that pool game. Then I could’ve gotten close to one of them. Maybe gotten more information to go on.”

  “We could go back. I remember what he looked like.”

  Blake shook his head. “Sorry, baby. They travel in packs. His pal who threatened me won’t be far away.”

  “Well, what about the name he dropped? Johnny?”

  A frown of contemplation pulled at his features. “There might be something to that. Or it might’ve been Johnson’s code name. I’m not sure how to tell the difference.”

  “The biker sounded like he was talking about two different people, the cop and then Johnny. It sounded like the cop was the facilitator. The other guy was just…” Layla snapped her fingers. “His go between. Blake—Johnny could be the passenger!”

  “The guy with Johnson at the fairgrounds?” Blake rubbed his jaw, nodding. “You may be right. It’s definitely more than we had to go on before. Good job, baby.” He kissed her. “Now let’s duck into some of these beer joints and see what we can find out.”

  However, he made her stay outside most of them. Too dangerous, he claimed. So she paced. Bored. Restless. Hot, even though the sun had set hours ago. And tired. When they’d brought their things back that afternoon to Frank’s shop, where they were staying upstairs, they’d tried to take a nap to catch up on a few hours of sleep.

  Instead, they’d found other ways to keep themselves occupied. Sexy ways.

  While she paced outside of the dimly lit bar Blake had disappeared into, the vision rose unbidden in her mind of him making good on his promise. To take her as he’d threatened to the first time they made love. Up against the wall. Her legs hooked around his waist as he ground into her with deep, penetrating thrusts. Their bodies striving toward climax, turning slick with perspiration, finally quivering with powerful release…

  Layla shivered. Then she jumped as the door behind her slammed open.

  “Man, must be something in the air tonight.” Blake took her hand and led her away quickly. “Barely got out before two guys went at each other.”

  “Geez. Another bar fight?”

  Blake shook his head as if he couldn’t understand it. “Men can be such idiots.”

  “I know.”

  “Hey.”

  She giggled when he tweaked her under her ribs. She shoved his hand away and asked, “How many more places am I going to have to stand outside of tonight?”

  “I think we’ve covered most of them. Those with the best potential, anyway.”

  “So what now?”

  “We wait it out.”

  “That’s it?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Layla. We’ve done what we can for today. We’ve covered a ton of ground. Let’s wait and see what comes of our efforts.”

  Anxiety clawed through her. “But we only have two days left in Sturgis!”

  He stared at a spot of artistic graffiti on the cracked sidewalk. His face looked drawn, as if he were personally bearing the weight of her disappointment. “I know.”

  “Blake,” she murmured. Rising on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “You’ve been amazing. I’m sure some news will come after everything we’ve done. It has to, right?”

  As they walked hand in hand through Sturgis’s nightlife, along streets crowded with a rowdy bunch of rebels having a blast, Layla kept thinking about the brawl Blake and Tanner had circumvented. Blake had walked away without a scratch. Perhaps Jack hadn’t exaggerated entirely when he’d slapped Blake with false charges, saying Blake was a deadly weapon unto himself.

  She’d avoided discussing that fiasco with Blake, but broached the subject now to reconstruct the truth from Jack’s lies. This seemed like the right time to put the issue to rest. She squeezed his hand. “Did you know the last argument that ended my relationship with Jack was about you?”

  “Good for me.” He grinned down at her, though she noticed his eyes tightened at the corners.

  “It started because I defended you the night Jack put you in cuffs on false charges.” She swallowed, remembering the fight that ensued. Jack had shown his violent side, and Layla knew she needed out. “He said something about breaking up a bar fight.”

  Blake stiffened at her side. He opened the door of Frank’s shop, but once they entered he didn’t take her hand again. They climbed the stairs as he spoke.

  “Johnson was desperate for any excuse to get me off his back. I’d reopened the case of my parents’ accident, but my witness backed down in the end and Johnson walked free.” Blake sighed. “So when he stumbled onto a bar fight, resembling what almost happened at The Full Throttle, he framed it. Making it look like I’d started what turned into a bloody mess. My martial arts background almost gave him cause.”

  “I didn’t believe him,” Layla said as Blake unlocked their bedroom door.

  “Anything that comes out of Jack is either spun to his benefit or a boldfaced lie.”

  As they stepped into their room, she replied, “I know that now. I guess I knew it then, too. Because after that fight our relationship was over.”

  Blake locked the door and loomed over her, backing her toward the bed. “Can I tell you something else?”

  “What?” she asked, breathless as the backs of her legs met the bed frame.

  “Don’t ever bring up Johnson right before I make love to you, or I’ll be forced to give a performance that will burn away any memory you have of him in your bed.” Territorial anger edged t
he words.

  Desire rolled through her abdomen. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  “I can tell you…or I can show you.”

  Eyes widening, she sat back on the mattress in answer. Tearing off his clothes, he came over her. He growled with possessive hunger as his lips seized hers. He stripped her down, his mouth roving over her skin, claiming every part of her. Flipping her onto her stomach, he kissed the unexplored regions of her back.

  He tasted the dip in her lower back, kissed the dimples at the base of her spine. An arm slid under her waist and lifted her backside into the air. He spread her knees.

  Layla gasped.

  Blake flipped onto his back, wedged his shoulders between her legs and brought her down to his mouth. His tongue traced the outer lips of her sex. She inhaled sharply, her elbows digging into the mattress as she scrunched the sheets in her hands.

  A guy was supposed to go down on a girl, not… up . Right?

  Then he licked.

  Or not . “Blake,” she moaned.

  All thought dissolved as his tongue glided between her folds. She reveled in the feeling of him tasting her in this new way. His tongue made luxurious sweeps over her wet, aching flesh, flicking the peak over and over. She liquefied under the acute ecstasy.

  He made love to her with his mouth the way he made love to her with his body—thoroughly. A shattering orgasm built, first in quakes of pleasure, then thrashing waves, and finally a burst of white-hot heat that rocketed her into bliss.

  When Blake slid out from between her legs, she collapsed onto the mattress, drugged with pleasure. She felt the slide of his body above her. He rolled on a condom, guided his cock to where she was wet and ready. He slid in to the hilt. Threading their fingers, he took her from behind.

  He surrounded her everywhere. Layla felt every band of muscle in his torso skim across her skin as he moved. His lips caressed her skin as he stroked inside her. The ends of his hair swayed back and forth, feathering across her back, a steady rhythm to his gliding thrusts. Mist formed on their skin. Their bodies skated across each other as Blake drove them toward a powerful climax.

  His lips fastened on the back of her neck as his thrusts deepened, his fingers tightened, and they came at the same time.