Burn: A South Beach Bodyguards Book (20 page)

“Were you at a party?” the cab driver asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

“Yes,” I lied, because it was the perfect excuse as to why I would be leaving at that time to go back home. I clearly wasn’t a tourist. “Rehearsal dinner for a wedding.”

“Dude, I bet a wedding there would be sick. And expensive.”

“No doubt.”

“Some people got more money than they know what to do with.” He was young, probably my age, Latin. He shook his head back and forth, like he couldn’t wrap his head around it. “I once drove a hooker to one of them parties. She said she was getting ten grand for the night. I was like maybe I should be a hooker.” He laughed.

I sighed. I didn’t really want to have any conversation, let alone this one. I also thought he was reaching if he thought he could get ten grand for a night with him. He was no Julia Roberts. “She probably lied about how much she gets paid.”

“You think?” He sounded surprised, like that had never occurred to him. “I don’t know, why would she lie?”

That seemed obvious to me, but I didn’t want to sound like I was correcting him.

“There are plenty of rich people who would pay premium for a piece of pus-“ He stopped himself and gave me a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

I no longer felt the need to protect his feelings. “Maybe that’s just what you would pay, if you could afford it. Most wealthy men don’t need to pay for it.”

He gave me a look like he thought I was a bitch and shut up. Fine with me.

At home, I jumped out of the cab and threw the fare at him. Then, my bag over my shoulder, I ran inside the house, wanting to get away from the driver. He hadn’t creeped me out exactly, but I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of him knowing where I lived or thinking I was alone. So I crammed the key in, opened the door, dashed inside, and locked it as quickly as possible, heart racing.

Sighing in relief, I turned.

And ran smack into someone.

I opened my mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over it.

Yet another woman slid alongside of me to get to the bar and I fought the growing impatience. I just wanted a damn beer and yet the parade of half-naked women could score a cocktail in two seconds while I had been standing there for ten minutes.

“Excuse me,” I said to the woman who elbowed me the gut. She was about four foot eleven and ninety-five pounds yet she had the nerve to glare up at me and swear in Spanish.

I swore myself and stepped back to give her room. I couldn’t be a dick. It wasn’t her fault I was in a sour mood. Alejandro was out on the dance floor grinding up on some beautiful and enthusiastic girl and I knew without a doubt he would manage to finagle her out of the club and back to his place, maybe with her friend in tow. Me being there was pointless.

After the feisty girl who had shoved me got her very large cocktail in a plastic tube, she turned and instead of maneuvering past me gave me a flirtatious smile. “Are you proportionate?” she asked. “Because you’re
huge
.”

Subtle. I had to give her props for being willing to hit on the giant frowning beast in front of her. But I wasn’t going there. “State secret.”

She tilted her head and smirked. “That means you have a pencil dick.”

“Think what you want. I’m not here to prove anything.” Well, that was a bullshit lie. I was there to prove I didn’t care about Isabel. That was working out really well. Not. She was all I could think about and every woman in the club paled in comparison to her.

Almost every guy there would call me nuts because Isabel’s beauty really was understated. She wasn’t tanned and plumped and covered in mascara and wearing hair extensions and false eyelashes. She didn’t have glitter on her tits and a belly button ring peeking out from the cutouts of a very small and very tight spandex dress. She wasn’t South Beach. She was real. And she was fucking beautiful.

Fuck. I couldn’t prove a goddamn thing other than that I was totally head over ass for Isabel. This was bullshit. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do Isabel, but I couldn’t do this at the club either.

“Tough guy. I like that in a man.”

“I would break you,” I said, to dissuade her.

She just tossed her hair back over her shoulder and gave me a feminine growl. “Yum.”

I sighed. I actually sighed. “Look, I’m not interested. I’m… involved with someone.”

“Oh, God, please don’t tell me it’s complicated or you’re on a break or whatever. Or you just hook up but you don’t want to be with anyone else right now and all the other crap that goes on now with dating.” She blew air out of her mouth, making her bangs lift off her forehead before settling back down. “Why can’t everything just be straight forward? Like, if you just want to fuck me, say you just want to fuck me. Or you want to date me. There is no anything in between and I’m sick to fucking death of it.”

“It’s not always that simple,” I protested, feeling oddly defensive. Just fucking was what I had always done, but did she have to make it sound so rude?

“So which one are you doing?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “Refusing to define your relationship or telling her there shouldn’t be restrictions on what, or who, you can do?”

“I just told you I wasn’t interested. I’m not into dating multiple people at the same time.”

“Then why is it complicated?”

“Who said it was complicated?” God, she was annoying. It was like she was my conscience in the form of a tiny Latina with a bright blue dress.

“You did. You said involved. Not dating. Not girlfriend. No fuck buddy or friends with benefits. You said involved.”

“What do you care?” I asked, turning back to the bar. I was going to pull a gun on that bartender if he didn’t bring me a beer in the next twenty seconds. At least being tall I had the advantage of being easily seen. I waved my hand and yelled, “Hey! I’m sick of waiting here.”

“Rawr,” my new friend said. She was like a porcupine. Every direction I turned there were quills poking me. “I don’t care. It’s just a general observation on the bullshit of dating in your twenties now. Fuck Tinder. Everyone wants some kind of perfection, hedging their bets.”

I didn’t want to be rude, but I was done. I wasn’t up for debating the issues with modern dating and the influence of social media on dating culture. Hell, no. Isabel would be able to discuss that shit all night long, but I didn’t really care. I didn’t date. Boom. End of story.

“Look. You seem nice.” Bitter. “But I’ve had a long day and it’s loud in here and I don’t like yelling over the music.”

She stared at me for a long second. “So take me home with you.”

I didn’t actually see that one coming at this point. I could feel my eyebrows shot up. “I’m twice your size and I have a gun under my shirt. You shouldn’t offer for strange men to take you home.”

She made a face. “See, you just passed the creeper test. Come on, come outside for a minute while I smoke a cigarette.”

I didn’t want to. But I didn’t want to stay either. The music felt like a mallet was behind my eyes beating to get out.

Outside I took a deep breath and stuck my hand in my pocket. While the girl lit up a cigarette I pulled my phone out and checked to see if Isabel was wondering where I was or when I would be back. I kept picturing her alone in that big bed and wishing I had the guts to return to her. To hold her and make love to her the way she deserved to be held.

“Did she text you?” the girl asked.

“No.” I had nothing. Nada.

“So tell me why it’s complicated.”

“She’s my stepsister,” I said. It wasn’t true technically but it was weird.

The girl made a face. “Seriously? Awkward.”

“A little.” It was going to be even more so if Isabel let Kim know we had been naked together. She hadn’t seemed like she was going to keep it a big secret, which she should. Nobody needed to know our damn business. “What’s your name?” I asked the girl, because it seemed like she was going to stick around for a while and I didn’t like talking to someone without at least acknowledging they had a name.

She stuck her name out. “Alexandra. Nice to meet you.”

“Ryan.” I shook her hand.

“I would have thought you were like a Vlad or something. Ivan.”

“Because I’ve never heard that before.” I rolled my eyes at her, but I wasn’t really annoyed. She was keeping me from going into full-on brooding. “So what do you do, Alexandra, besides pry into strange dude’s business at the bar?”

“That’s it.” She gave me a grin. “You?”

“I glare at people.” My phone buzzed in my hand. It was an alert from work. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” It was the code to call in immediately. I dialed the office.

Mickey answered. “Security camera at the house in the Gables showed an intruder.” He paused. “And Isabel entering the house about five minutes after he did.”

My blood chilled and I froze. “What?” I patted my pocket for my keys. I needed to get to my car. “Are the police en route? When was it?”

“I called the cops. It was twenty minutes ago. We’re only doing random sweeps. It’s a miracle the staff even saw it. Usually that shit gets looked at the next day, not in real time. I’m all the way in Sunny Isles, it will take me forty minutes to get there but I’m on my way with Kim. She’s freaking out. Where are you at?”

“Ocean Drive.” I waved to Alexandra and took off jogging, phone still at my ear. “The traffic here sucks dicks though, as you know, but the causeway should be clear. I’ll be there in twenty.”

For a second I didn’t even remember where I had parked my car. I was frantic at the thought of someone hurting Isabel. What the fuck was she doing at the house? I knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t stupid. Isabel was smart and Isabel knew people. She knew I wasn’t coming back and she didn’t want to stay in the hotel alone. In the bed we’d had sex in.

I would never forgive myself if something happened to her.

She was a good person. The best. The kind who deserved only happiness and love. Not to be dragged down by me or endangered by my father. All I could think was that I needed to make sure she was safe, then keep her safe. I wanted to grab her and shield her from everything about the world that sucked ass, and wrap my arms around her.

It kind of felt like if I could love somebody, this was it.

I ran faster.

I
was so shocked, I didn’t even struggle when the hand clamped over my mouth. But then panic set in and I jerked back and forth in the dark. I couldn’t see anything and I was terrified. I tried to scream again but he pressed harder, so no air could move in and out of my lungs. His flesh tasted like sour sweat and I knew it was a man because I could hear his breathing, sense his body, smell his cologne.

“Don’t say a fucking word, do you understand me?”

The voice was low, manic, but familiar. I couldn’t place it. I couldn’t speak so I just nodded rapidly so that he would understand I wouldn’t challenge him or fight. I fingered my purse but there was no way to fish my phone out of it without him knowing what I was doing. So I concentrated on breathing through my nose and waited for him to tell me what the hell was going on.

Suddenly a light came from his side. His phone flashlight. I blinked, the sudden spotlight blinding me momentarily. Then the underglow exposed his face to me and I realized that of all freaking people in the world, it was Juan. The guy I’d gone on three dates with, who had been pushy and insisted I bring him home with me. The guy who sent me the questionable dick pic, which I now knew for sure was just a so-so penis.