Chapter 5
Cash
Should I have asked a few questions?
Probably.
It felt like I had enough details to sort the situation out, and quickly.
My mistake.
As I stand outside at two in the morning taking photos with the bouncers, the hour justifies the means to get in, get out, and try to get some sleep while I still can.
When the rope is finally lifted to let me into the South Beach nightclub, I think I should have gathered a few more facts before agreeing to rescue my bosses’ little sister from the bathroom inside.
Blue and pink lights flash into every corner of the two-story dance venue, including under the edges of the sunglasses I hope help to hide my identity.
I cut through a sea of sweaty bodies dancing to endless beats that are supposed to resemble music.
Although no one wants to hear a race car driver analyzing music tracks, I do have an affinity for great music, and this isn’t it.
I finally reach the hall and walk past what some might call lewd acts.
I’m no saint to judge others. I’ve not always made the best decisions when a pretty woman offers the pleasure of her company, or mouth for that matter, on a drunken night out.
It’s been longer than I care to recall since that happened.
Italy, maybe Brazil. Too long. But when I’m off the track, I don’t get to be a priority.
That’s the sacrifice I’ve made to put my son first.
I find the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. Two women’s bathrooms on the right and the exit to the alley farther up on the left.
“Marina?” I call just outside the first bathroom.
No answer. I repeat in front of the other door.
When there’s still no reply, I pull my phone from my pocket and text:
I’m here.
Because I’m impatient as fuck—I’m a race car driver for a reason—I also knock on both doors and then stand back to see which one opens.
The door on the right opens enough for one narrowed and beautiful eye to see me before it widens. I come forward, but the door doesn’t budge. “You going to let me in?” She looks me up and down one more time before cracking a smile and stepping away for me to enter.
I walk in and lock the door behind me. “Get your stuff, and let’s go.”
Surprise shapes her face before she anchors her hands on her hips. “Just get your stuff, and let’s go? You’re not going to ask me why I called you?”
“You’re drunk and called the hottest guy you’ve ever met because you need to get laid?”
As tempting as her open and deliciously rounded mouth is, her eyes tell a different story. “Um, no.” She flips her hair over her shoulders, then raises her chin in the air like the very thought of being with me is offensive. “No. Liam Hemsworth didn’t answer.”
Removing the dagger from my ego, I ask, “You’ve met Liam Hemsworth?”
“It was one date before he met his current girlfriend.”
“He’s in a relationship? What happened with Miley?”
She smirks. “Why? Are you interested in him?”
“That’s a riot.”
Laughing, she snorts. “Riot. Ryatt. Like you.”
I side-eye her, not amused in the least. “I knew you knew my name.” Okay, fine. She’s sort of amusing and cute when she’s tipsy. Flirty.
This still isn’t my scene. Not anymore at least. I grab the doorknob, ready to bolt. “Can we please get the fuck out of here?”
“You’re not having fun?”
For a nightclub that appears to be popular by the size of the crowd outside this door, the corner of the mirror’s frame is rusting, the toilet roll is bare, and the lock is barely holding by how it rattles when someone checks to see if the bathroom is occupied.
By how long she’s been in here, it’s a good thing other restrooms are available.
Spying her cracked phone on the edge of the sink, I slide it onto the counter to keep it secure. The screen lights up, so I guess it’s not as broken as she claimed. “How’d you get my number anyway?”
“I have my ways.”
“Mm-hmm.” I’ve never seen a more mischievous grin on someone than the one she’s sporting now. “Whatever, stalker.”
She reaches for her bag and pulls a tube out as if we have all damn night to hang out in here. Leaning against the sink, she drags a wand across her lips, leaving them shiny and capturing my full attention. Maybe I’m not in such a hurry after all.
Her lips were already appealing, but the way they shine for me, combined with that killer body, makes them so damn tempting to kiss just to find out if they taste as good as they look.
My thoughts get away from me, imagining her bent over that sink with me taking her from behind with our eyes locked together in the mirror.
Fuck.
Or maybe I’ve been reading her wrong all along, and she tricked me into her little lair to have her way with me.
I shift my dick.
She drags her gaze from my erection to my eyes and shrugs. “You make it so fun to push your buttons.” Poking me in the chest, she adds, “Why are you wearing sunglasses in a nightclub anyway?” Taking them from my face, she puts them on and smiles like we’re spending the weekend in this place.
She looks better than I do in them. “To keep from being recognized.”
“I think you’ll need more than sunglasses, Cash.”
“That’s big of you to admit.” Guess she’s ready to drop the act that she didn’t know who the fuck I was at the track yesterday.
“What?” She feigns innocence, which I’m starting to think is her fallback.
I’m also beginning to believe she gets away with a lot because she’s so hot or because she’s a Westcott.
I don’t imagine she hears no very often.
“That you’re a hotshot race car driver, according to you, who can’t go into a dark club without getting recognized?
” A quick huff leaves her mouth. “If you’re going to draw all of this supposed attention, I shouldn’t have called you. ”
I reach for the glasses, but she backs away and crosses her arms. So fucking hot and cold. “What exactly was your plan again? Why are you hiding out in a bathroom?”
“I called someone who promised my dad to take care of me.” She rests back on the edge of the sink and stares at me like she’s searching for answers.
“Bullshit. Why’d you call me, Marina?” Leaning against the door across from her, I say, “Look, this was fun, but it’s late, and I’m not in the mood to play these games with you.
” I’ve fucked up by being here. I need to be in top condition, and I’m playing tit for tat with her at two a.m. “I’m tired, so we need to wrap this up.
” Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I try to restrain my rising temper from tipping to the boiling point.
“I promised to get you back to the hotel safely after dinner. Not to be your bodyguard as you go dancing around Miami in the middle of the night.”
“Morning.”
“Exactly.” I shift my disposition along with my feet, trying to devise a plan, but our only option is to walk out of this place. I look at my watch. Fuck. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but I have a race today with millions of dollars and my career on the line.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She sounds surprisingly sincere. Coming close again, she places the glasses back on my face and carefully pushes them up the bridge of my nose. “I called you because I knew you’d help me get out of here, that you would understand.”
I catch her wrist, gently holding it between us before lowering it. “Understand what, Marina?”
Our gazes are fixed. Despite the loud music on the other side of the door, I can hear her swallow before she whispers, “I shouldn’t have gone out. My agent wanted me to be seen, so I went out.”
“Alone in Miami?” The anger, the upset, the smart-ass comments and slick tongue are forgotten.
The virtue shines in her eyes as she exchanges her trust with a modest smile. “My friends hooked up and left me.”
“You need better friends.”
“I’m starting to think I need a whole new life.”
Her honesty makes me feel . . . something. I rub my chest to break up the knot. “I’ll get you out of here.” I grab the doorknob again. “Stay close.”
“We can’t go out there, Cash.” Panic rises in her tone. “The paparazzi will ask me about Corbin.”
“That’s what this is really about? Your ex-asshole of a boyfriend? Competing for headlines?”
She takes a shaky breath, a nerve left raw in her exposed expression.
“I wasn’t thinking.” Looking down as shame washes through her pretty features, she pauses.
As if to collect herself, she summons her eyes to look up at me again.
“It wasn’t my best idea, but at the time and after more wine in my room . . .”
I exhale a deep breath, wondering how she thought either of us would get out of here unscathed.
“I’ve had the shittiest ideas over the years and made plenty of bad decisions, so I get it.
Alcohol only fuels that fire.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to think of anything that makes this makes sense.
“You called someone the paparazzi loves to harass and has been following all over Miami to help sneak you out so you can avoid the paparazzi. There may not be a clear path out of here without being seen.”
Her eyes stay on mine, but not a word escapes. As the silence lengthens between us, she finally replies, “You were my best option.”
“I’m your only option since Liam Hemsworth wasn’t available.”
She cracks a smile, and the sight instantly lifts my mood.
“I’m going to get us out of here, but tell me why they’re targeting you. I deserve that much.”
She rolls her eyes, getting some of her spunk back. “Other than I’m in movies?”
“What’s the story beyond you and your ex not being together anymore?”
Pushing off the sink, she appears ready to finally leave. Standing in front of me, she says, “He cheated on me.”
I nod, unsure what to say. The fact it happens to almost everybody at some point won’t make this situation or her feel better. But as I stare into her blue eyes, the words come easy. “He’s a fool.” Then I look down at my phone and text the driver:
We’re leaving through the exit door in the alley. Meet us there.