Before I do anything, further proof is required. “Can you get him on the phone, please?”
The big man presses some buttons and, sure enough, Beck appears on screen. Instantly I move closer. Still, his voice is hard to hear over the music. “What’s up, Smith? Is she okay?”
“She’d like to talk to you, sir.” He angles the cell my way, not letting me hold it. Guess he’s tetchy with his belongings. Or maybe he’s keeping an ear out for further instructions.
Beck smiles. But it’s a tired, weary one. “Wife. Get on the plane.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“No. But I’d like to be. That’d be fun. Or you could be the boss of me. Whatever.” His gaze shifts to something off screen for a moment and his smile dims further. Dark circles linger under his eyes. “Wish you were here.”
“Me too.”
“Here’s your chance then,” he says. “You want to be with me and I want to be with you. Enough excuses. Take the leap, Alice. Promise I won’t let you fall.”
I sigh. It’s so damn tempting.
“I’m sorry, I have to go. Things are happening here.”
“Okay.”
“You’re safe with Smith. I promise.” And he’s gone.
The screen blanks before returning to a close-up picture of a Persian cat. Smith turns the cell over, expression set in stone. I would not have picked him as a cat lover.
But the important thing here is that Beck is going through a tough time and wants me with him. That’s the clincher. He also asked me if I wanted an adventure and the truth is I do. I really do. I’d even go so far as to say I’m due one.
Not sure there’s actually any argument for the con side.
“One moment, please,” I tell Smith before heading toward the bar. I slap my apron, pen, and order pad on the counter. “I quit, Rob. You’re such an utter cock-splash. I don’t want to work for you anymore. Haven’t for a while now.”
A red flush emerges beneath his white skin and Rob stammers something unintelligible before working his way up to shouting abusive words at me. He’s not even original. You could read any of these insults on a bathroom door. Meanwhile, Phil the dickhead sits at a table with an odious smile on his face when he sees me coming his way. The man looks directly at my tits and licks his lips. He’s so gross. Seriously.
“Excuse me. I just need to borrow this for a minute,” I tell a dude at a table nearby as I pick up his glass of beer. With a polite smile, I pour the cold liquid into Phil’s lap. It feels good. Really good. Then he’s yelling too. Other people, however, are laughing and clapping. Maybe they think it’s a show or something. Whatever. I’m done.
“Thanks, buddy,” I say to the guy whose beer I liberated and slap down one of Smith’s fifties on his table. “Next round’s on me.”
“Ready, miss?” Smith asks.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER THREE
“Nice Taser,” says Beck, standing outside the hangar, hands in the pockets of his black suit trousers. His dark shoes are shiny, his button-down is white, and his black tie has been pulled askew. His hair is still a bit long, but artfully styled. In fancy clothes with the tattoo covered, the overall effect of him is quite different. A little intimidating, even. “Used it on anyone yet?”
“Not yet.”
“No?” he asks. “Well, the day is still young and you haven’t met my family.”
Carefully, I finish descending the stairs of the very shiny private jet with Taser in hand. Smith insisted I have one so I’d feel secure. I may have briefly had second thoughts after he still refused to give me Beck’s last name since he didn’t have permission to disclose same. And why the hell is his identity such a mystery? Anyway, in my black jeans with a matching T-shirt and cardigan, I feel decidedly underdressed. But then being in Beck’s general vicinity I feel like I’m a nonentity. His face is made for billboards and the silver screen. I should be asking for his autograph, not contemplating whether or not flying halfway across the country officially makes me his girlfriend. And yet here we are.
“How are you?” I ask.
“I’m okay.”
“Are you really? Because it’s okay not to be.”
He does a one-shoulder shrug and stares at me. With his pale face and subdued gaze, he looks as if something or someone has been sucking the life out of him. About what you’d expect from a person dealing with a death in the family. I want to take up sword and shield to protect him. Ride in on a white stallion like a kick-ass princess, et cetera. But I can’t guard him from this pain.
“I’m better now you’re here,” he says softly.
And I’m beyond happy to see him. I am. Though a lot has happened since my resignation yesterday and today’s arrival in Colorado.
Smith had been keen to leave last night, or early this morning, but there’d been a couple of things I needed to do. Given I had no idea how long this adventure would last, or quite where it would take me, I needed stuff. Clothes, cosmetics, the usual. Along with the chance to wrap my head around what was happening. My potted plant, Gretchen, needed to be placed under the care of Mrs. Flores and then I had to call my parents and do some explaining. Their reactions to me leaving my job (permanently) and California (temporarily) were not encouraging. But I’m a grown-ass woman and my decisions are my own. There’s also been some dwelling on my part over what Beck’s lies of omission about his life actually mean. If they matter. If he owed me the truth about his background sooner. Even though, at the end of the day, we haven’t known each other very long, I choose to take a leap of faith and get on the plane.
“So…that jet has big comfy leather seats and the fanciest bathroom I’ve ever seen,” I say. “The bedroom wasn’t bad either. So I guess the question is, how good is your fortune exactly?”
He grabs the back of his neck and looks away. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Hmm.”
“If you chose not to believe me, that’s not really my fault.”
“Is that so?”
“I’d come closer, but I’m kind of afraid you’re going to use that on me.” He nods at the Taser. “What do you think are the odds of that happening?”
“Probably pretty low. I’m quite fond of you, actually. Deep down.”
He cocks his head. “How deep, exactly? Just out of curiosity.”
“I have questions.”
“I know you do. But first, would you mind if…” Oh so carefully, he takes the Taser from my hand and passes it to Smith who happens to be walking past. The driver places it and my battered overnight bag into the back of a waiting large shiny Range Rover. Like everything related to this version of Beck, it looks new and expensive. Way out of my price range.
“Can I touch you?” he asks.
“I wish you would.”
His hands cup the sides of my neck, thumbs softly sliding over my jaw. The way he looks at me is…I don’t even know. It’s like there’s this roiling mass of emotion inside of me trying to get out. The man gives me goose pimples all over. And when his lips touch mine, everything is better and worse. On one hand, it’s not enough. I want to crawl under his skin. Get inside his head and find all the answers I seek. On the other hand, it’s fucking perfect. His tongue in my mouth and my hands fisted in his nice neat shirt. He explores my mouth like he’s already claimed ownership and fair enough. Because we’re not doing this in half measures. Our mouths stay melded together in a wet and hungry kiss that goes on and on. Six whole days of crazy coalescing into this one moment. Nothing outside of this matters. We’re both breathing heavily when he stops and rests his forehead against mine. I can taste him on my lips and he is delicious. Neither of us lets go.