Golden Trail Page 18

  He walked to them, grabbed them and when he turned toward the door, he saw her torso twisted to look at him.

  “I’ll be back,” he muttered, left the apartment, jogged down the stairs and to his truck. He bleeped it open, went into the passenger side, pulled down the door to the glove compartment and nabbed his smokes. He jogged back, let himself in and walked directly to the balcony doors without looking at her, bending slightly to drop the keys on the table on his way. “I’m havin’ a smoke.”

  He twisted the fancy-ass lock, noting, with some annoyance, that if someone managed to scale the wall to the balcony, not hard with tall trees on either side of it, they could break a window, reach in and open that lock. An exterior door like that should open only with a key. His eyes lifted, checking for security sensors and he saw them on the windows but not on the doors. Asinine mistake and shoddy work. No one would shatter those huge glass plates to breach the apartment, they’d go through the fucking door.

  He set this aside to talk to her about later, pushed down the handle and stepped out on the balcony. He pulled the lighter out of his packet of smokes, shook out a cigarette, put it between his lips, cupped his hand around the lighter and fired up.

  He slid the lighter back into the packet, set it on the railing, lifted his head and exhaled smoke, scanning her view and wondering what to do next.

  One could say he had not handled that with care and they were in this for the long haul. He was sensing she definitely got where he was coming from but something had to give. They couldn’t go on like this. Firstly, he needed to know a lot more about her life and he didn’t want to know. He did, he admitted, but he also didn’t. But he had to keep her safe while this shit was going down and knowing the little he knew about her life, her friends and her schedule, that would be difficult. Secondly, they couldn’t work under this cloud. The air had to be cleared and he didn’t want to do that either.

  He looked from the view to her. She was still looking down at her papers but she was holding her right wrist in her left hand and doing it gingerly.

  Fuck.

  She was in pain and she thought his attention was elsewhere. She didn’t do that when he was lying on the couch, she did it when he was outside. She was hiding it from him. She didn’t want his attention and she didn’t want it with the added reminder of how she hurt her wrist.

  He looked back to the view. He should give her that play. He knew he should.

  But he wasn’t going to.

  He took another drag and prepared to flick the mostly unsmoked cigarette out into the landscaping when he saw movement.

  He stilled, only half a moment, then he brought the cigarette to his lips and took another drag. He kept smoking as he pretended to scan the view, lost in thought, when he saw him. Mostly hidden by a bush on the top swell of a hill, a man with a camera snapping photos.

  What the fuck?

  Excellent positioning, the hill was high, he was looking right into Rocky’s apartment.

  Jesus.

  Layne finished the cigarette, flicked the butt out into the landscaping and made a decision.

  He turned, his eyes going to each side of the windows as he opened the door. She had no blinds.

  She was getting blinds.

  He entered and her head came up.

  “If you’re going to smoke, I have ashtrays. You can take one out with you.”

  He didn’t answer and skirted the coffee table.

  Her head went back and back as he got closer.

  She kept talking, “I have garden furniture ordered from Violet at the Garden Center. It’ll be delivered –”

  She stopped speaking when he bent double and put his hands to her pits, dragging her legs out from under the coffee table, he lifted her to her feet.

  “Layne! What –?”

  “We’re bein’ watched,” he mumbled right before his head came down and his mouth went to hers.

  His hands went to her hips and he kissed her, long, hard and closed mouthed as she held onto his shoulders. Then he turned her, backing her into the couch, she went down and he went down on top of her.

  “Layne,” she whispered, her fingers clutching his shoulders.

  “Go with it, sweetcheeks, he has a camera,” Layne muttered against her lips, ignored her body going stiff under his, he slanted his head and kissed her again.

  Her lips tasted like wine and he liked that taste. The longer he kissed her, even without tongue, the softer they got, the stiffness went out of her body and it melted into his. Because of that, he did something on instinct and it was something stupid. Stupid and dangerous.

  He touched his tongue to her lips.

  They opened instantly.

  Heat flooded his blood and that blood rushed to his cock.

  His tongue slid between her lips and the show was over. This kiss was real. It was real and it was fucking great. She tasted good and she kissed not in the hungry way she kissed when they were together. She kissed like in his dreams, giving, her tongue dancing with his, not dueling, her body relaxed under his, their legs tangling. He gave up her lips to taste her neck as one hand went down and under her shirt then up the soft skin of her back, skin he’d wanted to touch since he saw it last night. His other hand went to the band in her hair, tugged it out and then buried itself in her thick, fucking mane and after he did this, her hands did much the same.

  He wanted her mouth again, took it and when he did she arched her back, pressing her tits into his chest, her soft hips into his hard ones and she moaned against his tongue.

  He growled against hers.

  Then he took the kiss further, made it deeper, wetter, harder, demanding more from her and she gave it.

  He felt her nails drag his back and he groaned into her mouth, his lips sliding down her jaw and her head turned so her mouth was at his ear.

  “God,” she breathed, “I forgot how good you tasted. Tobacco.”

  At her words, his hand fisted in her hair and he held her head to kiss her again, his other hand moving in, over her ribcage and up, to cup her breast, his thumb rubbing hard against her tight nipple.

  Her body jerked, then arched and she whimpered into his mouth.

  Fuck but she was hot.

  Too hot.

  This was not fucking good.

  He tore his mouth from hers, pressed his face into her neck and tried to order his thoughts. This was difficult with her breast in his hand, her body under his and her hand trailing his back.

  He rolled to the side, partially off her, his hand leaving her breast to move to her waist and he said against her neck, “Rocky.”

  Her hand kept moving for a second then froze.

  He gave her a minute, giving the same to himself, and her hand slid out from his shirt to disappear entirely, her bandaged hand moving from his hair to rest lightly on his neck. She turned her head away.

  He lifted his up. “You okay?”

  She was looking at the coffee table but she nodded.

  “Roc,” he called and she waited a few beats then righted her head to look at him.

  Lips pink and bruised, cheeks flushed but her eyes were blank. He was lying mostly on top of her but she was hiding from him.

  He decided to give her that play.

  Then he sought to lighten the atmosphere.

  “You’re a nut, sweetcheeks. Only you would think cigarettes taste good,” he joked.

  “You smoked when we were together, Layne. You were my first kiss, my first everything. I’m conditioned to think they taste good,” she replied, her voice funny in a hard way, he took that shot to the gut and, while he recovered, she slid out from under him.

  He got up on a forearm and watched her grab her wineglass and walk into the kitchen. She went to the bottle of wine opened on the counter and poured more in. She took a sip, her back to him, dropped her hand and stayed where she was.

  He pulled in a breath, rolled off the couch and went to her.

  She didn’t move so he fitted his front into her
back and rested a hand on the counter in front of her.

  “You gotta put in blinds, sweetcheeks.”

  “Yes,” she agreed quietly.

  “You also need to text me the number to the management office of this place. They need to send someone to put in sensors on your doors and change the locks. You’ve got vulnerability there.”

  He felt her body stiffen in front of him and he put the hand not on the counter to her hip. If someone was still watching, they’d think this was a post-make out session, lover’s conversation.

  “Rocky,” he called.

  “I’ll text you the number.”

  Layne pulled in breath and his fingers at her hip pressed in.

  “We gotta talk about what happened on the couch.”

  “Not now,” she replied instantly.

  “Roc –”

  “Not now, Layne, I have papers to grade.”

  He dropped his mouth to her ear. “We got lots of shit to discuss, baby. What just happened, last night –”

  She cut him off. “I’m not talking about last night.”

  “You are. We are.”

  She turned to face him and her head tipped back. “I’m not talking about last night, Layne.”

  He moved into her, pressing her back into the counter. He took her wine from her hand and put it on the counter. Then he put his hand on her neck.

  “The air has to be cleared,” he stated quietly.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “It does, Rocky.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “No. It. Does. Not,” she hissed.

  He studied her then he relented. “I’ll let that go for now but only to let you get a pain pill.”

  “I don’t need a pain pill.”

  “I saw you holdin’ your wrist, sweetcheeks.”

  “I know when I need a pain pill, Layne, I don’t need you to tell me.”

  “You landed hard on it,” he reminded her and she surprised him by suddenly coming up on her toes and into his face, her face going tight with anger.

  “Yes, Layne, I remember,” she snapped.

  “Then take a goddamned pain pill,” he shot back, her anger tipping his.

  “God!” she exploded. “Will you leave me alone?”

  “No,” he returned. “You took all day to be alone.”

  “Go to hell, Layne!” she hissed.

  He leaned further into her. “That attitude you’re servin’ up, sweetcheeks, evidence we need to clear the fuckin’ air.”

  Her shoulders shot straight and she tossed her hair, dislodging his hand so he put it to the counter beside her.

  Then she said, “You want the air clear, okay. Here it is or, at least, what’s bothering me right now, bothering me enough to serve up my attitude,” she bit out. “See, last night was not good. You know it, I know it, we don’t have to go there. But, even you knowing how not good it was, you came here and got in my face. That wasn’t nice, you doing that when I know you know but I can take it because I deserve it. Then, on that couch, shit went down and you proved that you haven’t changed in eighteen fucking years.”

  He felt his neck muscles contract and he forced his voice to a whisper when he asked, “What the fuck?”

  “You had yourself a leggy brunette last night, baby.” Her voice was an insinuation mixed with deep sarcasm. “And as far as I know, she’s waiting back at your house and you still took what you could get from me on my couch.”

  “Not that it’s any of your goddamned business, Raquel, but Melody left ten minutes after you did.”

  “I don’t really care, you’re right, that’s none of my business.”

  “You just threw it in my face, baby.”

  She blew out some air before she said, “It’s not my business but you should also know I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

  “And why the fuck would you not believe me?”

  “Because, Layne,” she ground out, “Jarrod replacing me so fucking quick wasn’t the first time I experienced that, was it? Gabrielle Weil was carrying around your son within weeks of me leaving our bed.”

  Instantly, Layne’s back snapped straight and he stepped a foot away from her.

  Then he whispered, “What?”

  “And she was wearing your ring in less than a year.”

  His neck muscles weren’t just tight, every muscle in his frame had turned solid.

  “You are shitting me.” He was still whispering in an effort not to shout.

  “No,” she returned immediately, “I’m not. So don’t come off all wounded ego that I broke your heart and left you to lick your wounds because we both know that’s not true. You got over me pretty fucking quickly and moved on. You acted to Dad and Merry and everyone like your world was rocked but it wasn’t.”

  “You left me, Rocky, and after doin’ it, you didn’t get to tell me where to put my dick.”

  “You are correct. My point is, you don’t get to throw in my face what happened when you don’t understand what happened and you moved on and got something better out of it.”

  He lifted a hand to curl his fingers around the back of his neck, staring at her hard and asking, “Are you insane?”

  “Jasper has been in my school for three years, Layne, and for a semester in my class every day. I’ve been around kids for a long fucking time. I know a good kid when I see him and I know you got something better out of it. Knowing Tripp only upped it.”

  Fuck him, but she wasn’t exactly wrong.

  She also wasn’t right.

  Before he could reply, she finished. “I’m going to take a bath and you’re welcome to finish your game but, you should know, I’m not coming down here again until I know you’re gone. We’ll get through this because we have to but no more of that shit.” She pointed to the couch. “Whoever was out there was probably hired by Jarrod. What we did to him last night made him angry and he is not nice when he gets angry and I’ll bet, just about five seconds after he saw us walk in last night, he decided to play dirtier than he’s already been playing. And, head’s up, he’s been playing dirty even after putting her in my bed before there was time to change the sheets. But with our current situation, I’ll do my part, you do yours and we retreat back to what we’ve been doing the last two weeks. That was working. But this,” she waved her hand between them, “is as clear as the air is going to get. You don’t like it, tough. You’re just going to have to deal with it.”

  Then she walked around him, out of the kitchen and kept her head bent to her feet as she walked up the stairs and landed her last. “Tuesday’s good for me for pasta bake and Keira. I’ll be at your house at six.”

  Then he lost sight of her at the top of the stairs.

  Layne kept his hand at his neck, clenching and unclenching, trying to release the tension in the muscles there as he stared at the top of the stairs.

  Then his eyes fell to her wineglass and he resisted the urge to throw it across the room.

  Then he turned on his boot and stalked out of her apartment, slamming the door when he went.

  Chapter Nine

  Proceed with Caution

  The next afternoon, Layne sat at his desk and flipped open his phone.

  Using his thumb, he typed in, “Management office, The Brendel. Number. Now.” Then he sent the text to Rocky.

  He clenched his jaw and flipped his phone closed.

  You were my first kiss, my first everything.

  Her words from last night sounded in his head.

  He was, even as pretty as she was, he was her first kiss and her first lover. For her eighteenth birthday, he gave her a pair of emerald-cut emerald stud earrings, her birthstone. She’d given him her virginity.

  He was her first date, her first kiss, her first boyfriend. She had friends and she was popular at school but she didn’t date, never got close to a boy, until him.

  And she let him in immediately. Out of respect for father, but mostly for her and because of her inexperience, he’d played it
cool the first year and he’d taken great pains her first time. He couldn’t say he was entirely successful. He could say he made her come before he caused her pain so at least she knew she had something to look forward to.

  And she looked forward to it. Christ, it was like breaking a seal then what was held in exploded all over the place.

  But she’d never even kissed a guy, until him.

  He’d never thought about it, not once, except to thank his stars and consider himself lucky.

  Now, he thought, what the fuck was up with that?

  He flipped and twisted the phone around in his fingers and stared at his desk, jaw clenched, mind filled not just with last night but with a lot of shit, a lot of shit from the last three weeks and a lot of shit from nearly two decades ago and he only looked up when the security beep sounded.

  His eyes went to the monitor and he saw Merry, a white coffee cup in each hand, coming up the stairs.

  Answers.

  He’d called Merry half an hour ago and told him he wanted a meet but he didn’t tell him why. But Layne was going to get answers and he loved Merry but if his friend held out on him, after the shit that came out of Rocky’s mouth last night, Layne would resort to any means necessary.

  He kept flipping his phone around in his fingers as he heard the front door open and close and then he saw Merry coming through the door to his office. He was smiling but he got one look at Layne and his brows went up.

  “I’m guessin’ you aren’t havin’ a good day,” Merry remarked, walking straight in.

  “You’d be guessin’ right,” Layne agreed.

  Merry put Layne’s coffee in front of him and sat opposite him, lifting a leg to hook his ankle on his knee.

  “Well, join the club, brother. Today is officially shit,” he declared before he sucked back some joe.

  “You got problems?” Layne asked and Merry nodded.

  “But let’s get your shit outta the way first. Why’d you call? Somethin’ up?”

  “A lot of things are up. It sucks I got shot because it delayed me hiring a receptionist. I got so much up I can’t fuckin’ keep track of it all.”

  “Break it down for me, brother.”