Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“Mmm. Let’s get out of here.” Candace’s gloss-covered lips brushed over his, sending desire through Brock’s body.
He tangled his fingers in her red locks and pulled his mouth away from hers.
A bass beat rattled through the soles of his boots.
Tasha’s bar was a happening place, and when his buddy Milo, Dani’s sister Serena’s fiancé, had asked him to help bounce on weekends, he’d agreed.
Tonight, he wasn’t on duty, but since he’d met Candace at The Fainting Goat last weekend, they’d agreed to meet here for dinner.
Only because he needed the distraction. Needed to get out. Needed to get Dani Metcalf off his mind and another woman into his lap. Like Candace. She was full in all the right places. Her red dress hugged each contour and swell of her body.
Still nothing like Dani’s.
A memory flashed through his mind, taking hold of his breath.
Her laugh. God, he loved her laugh, and he suffered every day that he couldn’t hear that giggling sound that started with a rumble in her throat.
Her eyes were the clearest aquamarines he’d ever seen.
So sharp, so intense, they could turn from sultry to damn near diabolical in seconds.
While he was attracted to Candace’s red curtain of hair, there was no way in hell it was natural.
Not like the soft hay color of Dani’s. He shook his head, releasing the image he so desperately wanted to cling to.
“No? You don’t want to?” Candace said with a pout, bringing him back to the moment.
He looped his arm around her, dropped some bills on the table, and stood. “Hell yeah, I do. Let’s go.”
Her palm pressed down on his shoulder. “Wait here. I need to tinkle first.” She winked, scooped up her small purse-thingy, and sashayed away.
Tinkle? Geez, why did some grown women talk like they were children?
So annoying. He lifted his phone, which he’d laid facedown on the table.
One missed call. He usually didn’t check his phone while he was at the bar.
Any one of his associates would know where to find him, and Milo had just left.
He frowned. The number was longer than his arm.
Something from overseas. Telemarketer, probably.
Whatever. They’d called over an hour ago. Couldn’t have been important.
A few minutes later, Candace’s swaying hips caught his eye. She curled into him. Her frame was much taller than Dani’s slight one, which could snuggle under his arm.
Jesus. He hadn’t had it this bad before.
When he and Dani broke it off a few years ago, he’d been too mad to miss her this much.
But after she’d been kidnapped and he’d forked out a hundred and fifty grand—plus organized a heist with Milo—to get her back, he hadn’t been able to chase her from his mind.
And in true Dani fashion, she’d run.
His phone buzzed against his thigh and he fished it out. The same foreign number lit the screen. Long, red fingernails covered his phone. “Hey, no distractions,” Candace sang sweetly.
He met her heavily made up eyes. He needed this release, to get lost with Candace for a night, but for fuck’s sake he’d never enjoy himself if he had the nagging sensation of someone trying to reach him.
“One sec, honey.” Plucking her hand off his device, he swiped to answer it. The number blinked off. He’d missed it. Oh, well. He shoved open the bar door and let Candace precede him outside. The night air, cooler than the inside of the bar, hit his cheek.
He was about to place the device back in his pocket but a short vibration alerted him to a voicemail.
He stopped at the curb. Candace’s voice lolled on, not penetrating his thoughts.
A little ball of dread unwound in his chest. Who the hell left voicemails anymore?
Usually a text was enough. But if someone was in trouble . . .
Dani.
Fuck! Milo had mentioned that Dani had left the country.
But she wouldn’t call him. No, it had to be a wrong number.
She’d avoid him in almost every circumstance.
He tightened his grip on the phone despite wanting to chuck it against the sidewalk.
Candace lifted her fingers to signal one of the many passing cabs.
Goddammit. He couldn’t ignore the message—for peace of mind, and to enjoy the sex that lay before him, he had to check it.
“One sec, hon.”
She made a face as he hit the Voicemail icon. He took a few paces back, entered his password, and turned his back to the scowling redhead.
“Brock!” Dani’s voice burst against his eardrum, sending a shockwave to his core.
Sharp pants followed the word. Was she running?
He ran his hand through his hair. Though the possibility of the missed call being from Dani had crossed his mind, nothing could have prepared him for hearing her voice. Calling him.
“Brock, I—I’m in trouble. I can’t say too much.
” Her voice broke, and splashes sounded in the background.
“Someone’s after me. I need—just call me, please.
I know . . . I know you’re probably pissed at me.
But I need you.” Pain tugged at her words, and if he didn’t know her so damn well, he’d think she’d just sucked back tears.
Rage heated his blood. He needed to be there.
To get to her before whoever was after her did.
If she was still alive.
“Don’t tell Serena.” Menace replaced the panic in her words and the line went dead.
He curled his fist around the screen and let out a growl. “Motherfucking shit . . .”
Candace stepped in front of him. “Cab’s waiting.” She cupped her hands around his fist and tugged. He didn’t budge, and the sultry glimmer in her eye vanished.
He dropped his hand and her hold loosened. “Sorry. I just got some bad news. I need to go.”
“Are you serious? You’re bailing?”
He towed her by her elbow toward the cab. Was he really bailing on sex just because he’d received a frantic long-distance call from his ex? How pathetic was that?
“I’m sorry.” He peeled out a fifty-dollar bill, placed it in her hand, and tucked her into the cab.
“Wait.” She dug in her purse and slapped a card in his palm. “Call me if you come to your senses.” The cab rolled away and he turned to pace in the shadows. All Brock wanted to do was kick his own ass. Not for ditching Candace but for once again putting his life on hold for Dani.
He couldn’t fucking help it. He had some kind of compulsion—she called, and he came running. He found the number that had cockblocked him and hit redial. The line rang once, twice, three times . . . Christ. If he’d just canned Candace for nothing he’d—
“Hello.” Dani’s raspy voice broke through his consciousness.
“Yeah, it’s me. This better be good.” A sound crackled in the background and she inhaled. “What’s that? Where are you?”
“Uh. Just a storm.” A beat passed. “I’m in Geneva.”
He folded his arm under his elbow. That didn’t surprise him. After her kidnapping, he’d told her about his cousin who’d just moved to Geneva and she’d gushed about always wanting to travel there. Dani was the type to follow through with all her wants.
Except when it came to him.
“You’re breathing, I hear. Not being held captive, I assume.
What’s the emergency?” If his voice was a little terse, too bad.
He’d put his life on the line to rescue her from Milo’s dad just three months ago.
Although he hadn’t expected that to mend all the broken pieces between them, it had to stand for something.
Especially since she’d been glued to his side for the first two days after she was safe.
Then her shield of armor went up again, blocking him out.
A day later they’d had a blowout fight about all their past shit and went right back to not talking.
Dani had a lot of great qualities. An ability to forgive wasn’t one of them.
A long, exhausted sigh met his ears. “’Course you’d bring that up.
Yes, physically I’m fine. But a couple hours ago, two men were in my apartment.
I climbed out my third-story window and into one of the neighbor’s units, cut the building’s electricity, stabbed a man in the leg, then beat him in the head with a frying pan.
” Her voice trembled on the last part. “Then I shot a man and here I am. So yeah, I guess by your standards, I’m perfectly fine. ”
Brock fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his SUV.
He couldn’t get that involved again, but he also couldn’t not help.
What the hell he was supposed to do from halfway across the world was beyond him, though.
He opened the door, dropped into the driver’s seat, and turned over the ignition.
He’d had only two drinks over the last three hours, and even if he’d been drunk as a skunk, this conversation would have sobered him right up.
He stretched his fingers around the steering wheel and measured his words. “Dani, are you all right?” He kept his voice even, controlled. Something about her always softened him. Trying to stay mad at Dani was like trying to squeeze water from a rock. Was he bitter? Yes. Hurt? Hell yeah. Angry? No.
A memory of the day he’d met her, sixteen years ago, floated into his mind, and a smile tugged at his mouth.
He’d come out of a CD store to find her cutting the lock on his bike.
He’d been sixteen at the time and she’d been twelve.
Even though he’d caught her red-handed, her defiant blue eyes had dared him to do something about it.
He’d promised her ten bucks if she’d let him walk her home.
At the time, she’d been far too young to spark any interest in him other than for her well-being, and it was at that moment that he’d nominated himself as her protector of sorts.
“Mmm.” The sound came out strained, as if she were holding back a wave of emotion.