Convict: A Bad Boy Romance (23 page)

“But you watch TV now?” he asks.

I just nod.

“My first semester of college I didn’t make honor roll because I practically mainlined television and movies,” I say. “Have you seen
Die Hard
?”

“Everyone’s seen
Die Hard
,” Stone says.

“It’s amazing,” I say. “The part where he reaches behind him and there’s a gun taped to his back? Oh my god, I jumped out of my chair and shouted.”

Stone’s shoulder is shaking slightly, and I look up at him.

“You’re laughing at me,” I say.

“I think I saw
Die Hard
when I stole the VHS from Blockbuster,” he says. “That’s how I saw most movies as a kid.”

“Such a badass,” I tease, looking up at him.

“I haven’t stolen a VHS tape in years,” he says.

“I haven’t
seen
a VHS tape in years,” I counter. “It’s probably because you stole them all.”

I move my hand on his thigh.

“Keep it appropriate, Detective,” he growls.

At the same time, he slides his hand under my hair, the pad of his thumb against the back of my neck, his fingers under the neck of my dress.

I’m a little worried that my chair is going to have a wet spot on it when I stand up.

“Just trying to seduce you into buying a free cow,” I tease. I have no idea what I mean, because margaritas, but I look up at Stone as I say it and he grins in response.

“Well, that’s gonna be hard,” he says. “I have a strict ‘no sex until the third date’ policy.”

“How strict?” I ask, sliding my hand up his thigh.

“Very strict,” he says, his hand under my dress, against the bare skin of my shoulder. Then he leans over and puts his lips against my ear. “No exceptions,” he murmurs.

I feel like his voice is molten and dripping down my spine.

“So no matter what I do, I’m going to bed alone?” I say.

“You can try to seduce me as much as you want,” he says, his lips still nearly against my ear. “I’m virtuous as fuck.”

I turn my head and we kiss slowly. I forget that I’m in the middle of a Mexican restaurant as Stone licks my bottom lip and I let my tongue find his, curling them together.

“Thank you very much,” someone says, and I jerk my head back. The waiter is just walking away and I sit upright, taking a final sip of my drink. Anything to pretend that I wasn’t just making out with Stone like that.

He grabs the check, and I get an idea. I stand and grab my bag.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, and walk toward the bathroom.

Inside, I take a deep breath, then pull my underwear off completely.

I’m going to try something I read about in
Cosmo
.

I
sign the check
, figure the tip without even counting on my fingers, and finish my drink, waiting for Luna. I’m already rock hard and nearly jumping out of my skin with anticipation for the
rest
of the night.

No one called me asking after Ellwood. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I don’t know if that means no one’s looking, or if that means all I did was confirm I’m in Tortuga, and now they’re going to find me in a matter of days.

But I know two things. One, if they get me, they’ve got no reason to go after Luna. And two, I made it to our date, and I can worry about everything else
later.

She walks out of the bathroom and back toward me, and I swear I hold my breath for a second. I have no idea what it is about Luna, but one look from her turns me into a gibbering sex idiot. Like I’m the ignition and she’s the key that gets my engine purring
perfectl
y.

Your place is ten minutes away
, I remind myself.
You’ll survive
.

I stand.

“Ready?” I ask, a nice, normal thing to say to a person you’re on a date with.

She comes right up to me and puts one hand on my chest.

“Give me your hand,” she says.

I hold it out, palm up, and she puts something soft and damp into it, then pushes my hand back down, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

“What’s this?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

“It’s a present,” she says, an absolutely
devilish
grin lighting up her face.

I’m almost certain she just handed me her panties in the middle of this restaurant, but it’s not like I can check right now. I put them into my pocket carefully, so hard I think I might break the zipper on these pants.

Tonight’s gone from
I’ll survive a ten-minute drive
to
it’s going to be a miracle if we make it to my car
.

“Let’s go,” Luna says cheerily, and puts her arm through mine. We walk out of Bandito’s together and onto the pier, the waves sloshing to one side.

The moment no one’s looking, I pull her around the side of the restaurant, where it’s dark, and push her against the building. I kiss her hard, desperately, my tongue already in her mouth, my hands cupping her breasts through her dress.

“If that was an extra pair of panties you keep in your purse, I’m going to be really disappointed,” I say, panting.

I push my hand up under her skirt as Luna laughs, low and husky. She grabs my belt, her fingers cool against my lower belly, and pulls me against her.

“If it was extra panties, why were they wet?” she says.

I stroke my hand over her hip. No underwear. I kiss her so hard my teeth scrape against her lips. She makes a noise so I slide my hand between her legs.

She’s
soaking
wet, so wet her juices are starting to run down the inside of her thighs. I pull back and clench my jaw, forcing myself not to groan even as Luna whimpers. Just knowing how turned on she is right now makes me so hard it hurts.

“Jesus, Luna,” I whisper.

She leans her head back against the building, her eyes heavy-lidded and half-closed.

“God, I want you,” she whispers.

I circle her clit with two fingers and she takes a deep breath, like she’s trying to keep control of herself, but at the same time she puts one hand down my pants and grabs my cock. I growl into her ear.

“We can fuck right here if that’s what you want,” I say.

“We shouldn’t,” she says.

I start rubbing her clit harder, my fingers slippery against her, and Luna makes another noise like she’s trying to be quiet.

“But you want to,” I say.

“That doesn’t make it a good idea,” she says, her eyes closed, breathing hard, her fist around my cock.

I want her now, hard and fast against this wall. I want her to whisper filthy things in my ear and then come so loud that people come running to see what’s going on.

But this is also part of project
be someone Luna deserves
, and she probably doesn’t deserve to get busted for public indecency. Pulling my hand out from under her skirt and pretending nothing was happening is one thing. Getting caught balls-deep is another.

I make a decision.

“I’m gonna make you come right here against this wall,” I whisper into her ear, my fingers working faster and faster. “And then we’re going to my house so we can fuck properly.”

She turns her head to one side, panting and biting her lip, clearly trying not to make noise. I grab her knee with my other hand and pull her leg around me, holding it up so she’s half-straddling me, still against the wall.

“I should never drink margaritas,” she whispers.

“Because you get drunk and want to fuck in public?” I whisper into her ear.

“Usually I just get drunk,” she murmurs.

Her breath hitches in her throat, and she bites her lip.

“It’s your fault I want to fuck in public,” she says, and her voice trails off into a whimper.

I glance over my shoulder, because I’m getting an idea. There’s no one there.

I’m not sure if it’s gonna work, but it’s worth a shot.

I kneel in front of Luna, still holding up her leg, and put it over my shoulder, pushing her skirt a little higher.

“Stone,” she gasps. “Are—”

I don’t let her ask the question, I just push my face between her thighs and slide my tongue along her opening, then lap at her clit as hard and fast as I can.

“Fucking oh my god,” Luna whimpers. “Don’t stop, Stone, please don’t stop.”

I don’t, but I push my fingers inside her and stroke her from the inside, again and again.

“Mmmmfk ee aahhhh,” Luna says, and I look up.

She’s got both hands clapped over her mouth and I keep going as hard and fast as I can. It’s only seconds before her muscles flutter around my hand, spasm once, and then clamp down so hard I think they might break my fingers.

Luna’s still got her hands over her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut, and I can tell she’s doing her absolute best not to make any noise, but tiny, desperate whimpers escape her as waves rock through her body and I do my best to keep her upright.

Finally, she put one hand on my head, and I stop. She’s still panting for breath, legs akimbo, eyes closed, head back against the wall, hand stroking through my hair.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, and kiss the inside of her knee.

I move her leg off my shoulder, steady her, and stand to kiss her.

“Sorry,” she murmurs between lazy kisses.

She wipes her thumb along my chin, looking slightly embarrassed. I grin and take her thumb in my mouth, licking her juices off.

“Don’t apologize,” I say. “When are you gonna figure out that everything you do is fucking sexy?”

“Not everything,” she says.

“Handing me your panties so I know just how wet I make you is pretty sexy,” I say. “How’d you know I thought about my tongue in your pussy all day?”

I kiss her again. She tugs me toward her, then bites my bottom lip.

“We should go,” she murmurs, sliding the palm of her hand along my rock-hard erection. “So we can take care of this.”

Somehow, we stop making out. We hold hands and walk down the pier toward the street where my car’s parked, and we’re almost there when Luna stops.

“Shit,” she says. “My sunglasses are in the restaurant.”

It’s only two hundred feet away, but I don’t exactly want to backtrack right now.

“It’s dark, you don’t need sunglasses,” I say.

“I’ll be two seconds, I swear,” she says.

“Sure, you got off already,” I tease.

We head into the restaurant, and I wait by the door as she darts off to our table. A few moments later I see her talking to our waiter, then nodding and heading in another direction.

Luna doesn’t reappear for another minute. Then two minutes, three, and a cold dagger of panic starts to knife through me.

You thought you could protect her
, I think.
You’re a fucking idiot.

I walk through the restaurant, looking for Luna. They’re closing soon, and people are putting chairs on top of tables, the last few diners paying their checks and leaving, but Luna’s nowhere to be found.

There’s no way
, I think.
I was right here. They couldn’t know she’d forget her sunglasses, they couldn’t know I’d wait by the door.

Another room. No Luna. Now I’m nearly running, imagining her getting hit on the head and dragged out the back door of the restaurant. She’s probably already miles away.

You told them where you were, you idiot
, I think.
It’s your fault for being dumb enough to think they wouldn’t come after Luna
.

I’m wild as I come back to the entrance of the restaurant.

This was a fucking mistake
, I think.
Every step of this. Going into WitSec. Thinking I could be normal.

Dragging her in with me
.

Then I stop in my tracks. Luna’s standing by the front door, sunglasses on her head, talking to a tall bald guy. He looks kind of familiar, but I figure he’s come into the auto shop before.

Luna’s not kidnapped, not tortured. I take a deep breath.

“There you are,” she says. “Found my glasses.”

Relief fizzles through my body, and I swallow hard, trying to act like I wasn’t just ready to burn the restaurant down to find her.

“Great,” I say. “Ready?”

I glance again at the guy she was talking to, because he’s acting weird. He’s just staring at me, kind of smiling, like he knows something that I don’t. It’s fucking suspicious, and I can feel the hairs on the back on my neck start to stand up.

Then he looks at Luna, and suddenly I know who he is.

It’s Hammer, and he was just talking to Luna.

One of Valdez’s men,
here
, with
her
.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I just launch myself at him.

My shoulder goes straight into his stomach and we both fly to the floor, knocking over a side table. People shout, but I can’t tell what they’re saying because I’m already on top of him, slamming my fist into his face again and again.

There’s blood. It’s on his face and on my hand and there’s a little on the carpet, and Hammer is holding his arms in front of his face, trying to fend me off.

I’m shouting. Everyone’s shouting. My knuckles are bruised but I don’t stop until, finally, I get hauled off him and shoved to the floor, my face buried in the shitty carpet.

“Don’t you
look
at her,” I’m snarling. “I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”

I thrash. I
have
to get up. I
have
to make sure he doesn’t hurt her, but there’s at least three people holding me down.

Someone puts a knee in my back. They bind my wrists together behind me, and I kick, trying to knock them off even though I feel like a fish out of water, increasingly helpless.

“Don’t let him—”

“Shut the
fuck
up, Stone,” Luna’s voice says, right behind me. She digs her knee into my back harder. “You’re under arrest for assault.”

T
he second I say something
, Stone stops struggling. He’s panting, sweat sliding down his face and into the carpet.

“Sorry,” he whispers, his face half-smashed against the floor.

Then he tries to turn his head and look at me, his eyes desperate.

“Luna, that’s—”

“Shut
up
,” I say, keeping my voice low. Then I clear my throat and start reciting.

“You have the right to remain silent,” I say, hoping he gets the hint. “Anything you say can and will be used...”

I’m still drunk, still not wearing underwear, and I’m fucking
bewildered
. The other guy is still on the floor, and one of the waiters is holding a towel to his nose. Someone’s on the phone, talking low and fast.

Stone closes his eyes, his jaw clenching. I steal a glance at the guy he beat up. One second he was asking me if I knew any good bars that were still open in town, and the next second Stone was slamming him into the floor.

I’ve got a very,
very
strong suspicion it’s not because he was talking to me. Or, rather, not
just
because he was talking to me. Stone’s a little protective, but he’s not insane.

This is something deeper. Stone recognized that guy.

They know he’s here
, I think, and a shiver runs down my spine.

In another minute, there are flashing lights outside. Paramedics run in and kneel over the other guy. Two cops in uniform — not Chad, thank
God
— come in, grab Stone, and put him in the back of a squad car. A third takes witness statements, including mine.

It’s all a big fucking mess, but at least while he’s in custody Stone will be okay. The holding cell at police headquarters is probably the safest place in Tortuga. I get a ride back there from the cop who took witness statements, a female rookie who can’t be more than twenty-three.

“You’re okay?” she asks once we’re in the car.

“Yeah, thanks,” I say.

“You always carry zip tie handcuffs in your purse?” she asks, sounding genuinely curious.

I laugh a little.

“Yeah,” I admit. “This is the first time I’ve used them, though.”

She nods, and we don’t say anything else, which is fine. I don’t particularly want to talk about how I was on a date with a guy I had to arrest.

* * *

A
t the police station
, everything takes forever. Processing Stone and getting him into the holding cell takes forever. Filling out my arrest report takes forever. Giving another statement takes forever. At least I sober up while I wait.

The other guy, who gives his name as Blake Paxton, refuses medical treatment beyond letting the paramedics patch him up on-site. Then he
insists
on coming to the police station and giving his account as soon as possible.

I let someone else interview him. I was there. I’m biased. But I stay at the police station and look up Blake Paxton, even though I suspect that’s not his real name.

I wish we could get his fingerprints, or a hair, or at least a good photo or
something
. If he’s with the Syndicate, there’s a great chance he’s connected to my arson case, and if I can prove that, we can put him away
and
I can solve this thing in one fell swoop.

The only problem is that Blake Paxton may as well be a ghost. The only person I can find with that name died in 2009 at the age of eighty-five. It’s suspicious, sure, but absence of evidence is just that. It doesn’t
prove
anything, and law enforcement databases in the U.S. are notoriously incomplete, no matter what cop shows want you to believe.

It’s close to midnight when Chad comes in. I wonder what he did that they gave him the night shift — he’s been on it for about a week now, I think, and the night shift is
definitely
punishment.

He takes a route through the main room that manages to go right by my desk.

“Looking lovely, Rivers,” he says, a smug look on his jerk face. “Hot date?”

Great, so he’s already heard.

“Go fuck yourself, Chad,” I say. I don’t even look up at him.

He disappears. People go home. The rookie cop who was talking to Blake comes out of the interview room, frowning, and comes over to me.

“Paxton says he doesn’t want to press charges,” she says, clearly concerned.

I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but I raise my eyebrows.

“He doesn’t?” I ask.

He
could
. It would be open-and-shut, because about seven people, including a police officer, watched Stone attack him
completely
unprovoked.

But then again, I’m pretty sure Blake Paxton isn’t a real person. If that’s true, of course he doesn’t want to press charges.

“Will you talk to him?” she asks. “Just to make sure he understands the implications?”

“You know I was on a date with the guy who assaulted him, right?” I ask. “I might not be the very best person.”

She looks around.

“You’re kind of the only person,” she says. “Besides, if you tell him to press charges against your date, maybe he’ll listen? Maybe he’s afraid of police retaliation?”

If he presses charges, at least we can keep Stone in custody a little longer
, I think.
And maybe they’d let Stone off with community service or something, since he doesn’t technically have a record...

It’s not like either option is great.

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll talk to him.”