ESCAPE: A Stepbrother Romance (These Wicked Games Book 2) (2 page)

“Tight,” Emily comments.

“For work.”

I look at myself as I take them off and am thankful to see I’m not bleeding.
That
would be embarrassing. I hate how my skin looks in the bright glare of the florescent lights, though.

I set the shorts next to my blood-stained shirt on the chair.

“Turn around and bend over.”

I close my eyes, and do as she says.

“Cough.”

I cough.

“Now get in a squat, no, legs further apart, yeah. Okay, now cough. Again. And once more.”

I crouch there, legs starting to burn. “Now what?” I glance over my shoulder at her. She’s writing on a clipboard.

“Hm?” She glances up. “Oh, you can stand up now.”

“I told you I didn’t have anything.”

“Yes you did,” she says without looking at me.

I cross my arms over myself. “Can I get dressed now?”

She looks up at me again. “Oh. Sure.”

“Thanks,” I grumble. Being naked actually wasn’t that embarrassing, surprisingly, and neither was bending over, if I don't think about it too much, but for some reason the idea of getting dressed while she’s standing there seems really embarrassing.

Better than standing around naked, I think, and grab my shirt.

I hear shouting and both Emily and I look up.

The door bursts open.

“You can’t go in there!” someone says.

Cade bursts into the room, with two men in suits close behind.

His eyes find me, my blood-crusted face. “God, what—” Then they drift down, and take in my naked body.

The room grows hotter as he stares at me, and everything else seems to fade away. I let the hand holding my shirt hang limply, exposing everything to him. I feel my pulse in my naked sex, wonder if Cade can see it throb. Throb for him. Ache for him.

Gus blunders in, and stops mid-protest when he sees me.

I clutch my shirt to my chest, and grab my shorts from the chair to cover my crotch with.

Gus looks at Emily. “You get to have all the fun.”

After everyone leaves the room at Cade’s and his attorney’s insistence, and to Emily’s, and especially Gus’s, protests—”There’s safety rules to follow,” he complained—I get dressed in private.

At least assuming no one is watching through the one-way glass.

Gus turned out to be good for something, and brought me my phone, even as he was arguing with Cade and his attorneys.

Dressed, I pick it up from the chair—which Gus took his time setting it on after trying to get me to take it (and in the process uncover myself)—and groan when I turn on the screen.

It’s shattered.

I shove it in my pocket, then go to the door.

Which is locked.

I bang on it, and it opens.

“Decent?” Emily asks.

“Hardly.”

She barks a laugh. “Least you’re honest.”

“We’ll take it from here,” one of Cade’s attorney’s says.

Cade’s been uncharacteristically quiet. He looks like he could kill someone, though.

I still don’t know how he knew where I was, but am almost ashamed of how relived I am now that he’s here.

He takes me by the shoulders and looks into my eyes. “Are you okay? What—” he stops himself, glances at one of the attorneys. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“Our plane.”

“Good luck with that,” Emily says.

He shakes his head. “We’ll talk in the car.”

We’re escorted out into the public area of the airport, where a supervisor apologizes profusely to “Mr Dorn.”

Cade remains silent, and the supervisor seems to shrink several inches under his glare.

As we’re leaving I say, “There was a cop—”

“Wait till we get out of here,” he says.

“Never say anything that could be used against you,” the attorney on our left says.

The other one—on his left, and at the edge of our little entourage—leans out to be seen. “Which means saying nothing at all, usually.”

“She gets it,” Cade says, and they shut up.

There’s a black SUV waiting outside for us, not the Mercedes he’d been driving.

“Home sweet home,” I say as we head toward the familiar loading zone.

“Hm?” Cade asks.

“Just been here a lot recently.”

As Cade and I get in the backseat, I notice the windows are blacked-out.

Figures, when there’s no press chasing us.

“No blob,” I say, while the two attorneys converse outside our window.

“What?” Cade asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing. It’s just that we have all this privacy, and there aren’t any reporters to try to steal it from us.”

He smiles. “Be glad.”

“Is it okay to talk now?” I ask, looking at the man in the driver’s seat.

Cade glances at him. “Yeah.”

One of the attorneys gets in the front seat, the other goes off and disappears into the crowd, and we begin moving with the aid of what looks like a cop stopping traffic so we can pull out.

“That was nice of him,” I say, twisting in my seat.

“Influence has its benefits.” He touches my shoulder, and I look at him. “What happened?”

“There was a cop. She chased me.”

Cade clenches his jaw. “Did she do that to you?”

I wipe at my nose, which still isn’t bleeding, and which doesn’t feel broken. Thankfully. Some crusted blood flakes off. “No. I tripped.”

“Go on.”

“I was rushing to catch the plane you were— I thought you were on, but I missed it. Then this cop appeared and said she’d take me home. I got her to leave me alone for a moment and then took off. And she chased me.”

Cade looks to the passenger’s seat. “What was the officer’s name?”

The attorney doesn’t respond.

“Mike!”

‘Mike,’ jumps.

“What?”

“What was her name?”

“Who?”

“Weren’t you listening?”

“I try not to, sir.”

“The cop.”

“Emily Dickinson, according to her nameplate.”

“Not her. The other one.”

Mike shakes his head. “Only woman on duty right now.” He looks at me. “That’s who you must have seen.”

“Thought you weren’t listening?”

Mike faces forward again.

“It wasn’t Emily,” I say to Cade. “I think she knew my mom.”

Cade’s eyes soften. “Your mom?”

I grunt and shake my head. “Fuck, I’m really out of it. Your mom. Cynthia.”

Cade frowns. “Why do you think she knew her?”

“I don’t know. I just got that impression.”

“Did she say anything?”

“Yeah. I think so. Like, ‘Your mom is waiting,’ or something. Oh! No, she said your mom will pick you up.” I speed up, getting excited as I remember. “And she said she didn’t want to get in trouble, because she was off her path.”

“Path?”

“Or whatever. A cop’s thing. A beat.”

“Mike, do the sheriffs patrol here?” He looks at me. “Was it the sheriff?”

I shrug. Not like I’ve had many run-ins with the cops. I hardly even drive anywhere. And my car would fall apart if I sped.

“I can check. I don’t believe so,” Mike says, not looking back at us.

“That’s suspicious,” Cade says. “What did she look like?” he asks me.

“Tallish. I think. It’s hard to tell. At my height, everyone looks tall.”

“Did you get her name?”

I shake my head.

“What color was her hair?”

“Brown or black.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember her face. It’s surprisingly blank in my mind. “That’s all I can remember. I wasn’t really looking at her. I was trying to catch the plane, and then when I saw it was gone, I was trying to stop my nose from bleeding, and then I was trying to get away from her. Not much reason to study her face.”

“What about the uniform color?”

“Beige?” I shrug.

“Sheriffs then.”

“I guess.” Then I remember. “Oh! Her name. Not her first name. But her last was Burns, or Burn something.”

“Burton?”

I nod. “Maybe.”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“I know who it is.” He shakes his head, his jaw clenched. “That fucker.”

“You know her?”

“No. Yes. I mean my mother.” He glances at me. “She’s…” he trails off, and averts his eyes.

“What is it?”

Cade shakes his head. “Cynthia knows her.”

“How?”

Cade doesn’t answer.

“Cade! Tell me.”

Instead of answering, he gives the driver an address.

“Where are we going?”

“A friend.”

“I thought we were leaving.”

Mike the attorney turns around in his seat. “Not the best idea right now with what just happened. Stay out of LAX for the time being.”

“But I didn’t do anything! They can’t ban me.”

“Oh, I don’t mean you’re banned. Not that I know of. Just that Mr Dorn wouldn’t want the kind of attention going back would draw.”

“I didn’t see any reporters.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mike faces forward.

“Hey!” I kick his seat, and hit Cade’s knee in the process.

“Calm down.” Cade puts his hand on my thigh, and I let my leg fall. His hand’s so warm and large. It makes my thighs look small.

I swallow and look up at him.

His hand tightens, slides slowly up my thigh, and I bite my lip, my pelvis lifting of its own accord.

I try not to moan as his fingers reach the hem of my shorts. He trails his fingers along the fabric.

I want to say his name, but stop myself, remembering what happened last time.

I’ll let what happens happen. I don’t want to change anything for the worse; it seems nothing I do can change things for the better.

His finger slips under the fabric, and I inhale sharply, letting out a quiet moan.

I doubt even Cade heard it, over the road noise.

He lifts his gaze from where his fingers are teasing me, and brings them to my eyes.

I smile.

Cade leans forward slightly and licks his lips.

I tentatively let my hand creep to his crotch.

Fuck, he’s so hard.

I wrap my hand around his shaft and squeeze.

He grunts. “Mags.” His hand goes to mine, makes it move up and down.

My eyes dart to make sure Mike’s not watching.

He’s oblivious. So is the driver.

Cade slips his fingers in further,
almost
touching now. So close.

I’m soaking, and dying to touch myself. Dying to have
him
touch me. I flash on his expression when he saw me naked earlier, on how it felt to stand there, under the harsh lights, and to have him see every part of me. To see the lust that it evoked in him.

I touch myself through my shorts, our eyes locked.

Cade’s hand tightens on mine, and he looks away. Then he pulls my hand away from his cock.

My heart implodes.

The way he did it, so violently. Like he was disgusted with me for even thinking to do something like that.

But, he liked it. I can tell. And he guided my hand.

“Cade,” I say quietly, both hands now limp in my lap.

“When we get to Amélie’s, you should get cleaned up. I have some things to do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He looks at me.

“I mean, you seemed upset.” I gesture at his crotch, and want to slap myself. The movement had implied something different in my head.

He looks out the window. “Stay inside. I shouldn’t be long. Then we can get out of this hellish town.”

I look at my hands, feeling awkward. I try to change the subject. “Another Emily?”

He looks at me again.

I smile. “I got checked-in by an Emily, then tackled by one. Now we’re going to a place called Emily’s.”

“No. It’s a person. And Amélie, not Emily. You know. Amélie, from before.”

My mouth falls open. “Are you kidding?”

“No. Why?”

“Why? What do you mean? You can’t be serious. Are you—” I stop. I feel even more awkward now. Before, I was his sister, and asking this kind of question would be normal. But now, will I seem jealous?

“Am I what?” His eyes burn into me.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t be so fucking coy.”

“Cade…”

“Why don’t you stand up for yourself once in a while?”

“What? Cade, what’s—”

“Oh stop with the puppy act. You’re a grown fucking woman, Maggie, you should start acting like it.”

“I don’t understand.” I glance at the driver and Mike, who are ignoring us. My eyes burn, and I have to open them wide to keep the tears from falling.

He looks out the window.

I scoot closer to him. “Hey.” I put my hand on his shoulder, and he shrugs it off.

I stare at the back of his head, vision blurring. “Cade,” I whimper.

He turns to me. His expression softens when he sees my face, and he takes my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just upset.”

I nod.

“Hey, little bird, I’m sorry.” He touches my chin, lifting it, then kisses my forehead. “I’m an asshole. I’m sorry. I’m just so fu— so upset about…”

“What? Tell me.”

“What happened to you.”

I shake my head, frowning. “Happened?”

“At the airport.”

“It wasn’t—”

“At home. Everything. I just want to protect you, and I keep failing.”

“No.” I lean my head against him. And instantly feel better for doing so. Like we’re in our own little bubble, and nothing else matters when we’re like this. When we’re together.

He places his hand on my head, stroking my hair. “You smell like chicken wings.”

I laugh and elbow him.

“I’m just being honest.”

“Jerk.”

“So you’re okay with staying with Amélie for a bit?”

I groan. “Why’d you have to remind me?” I’m quiet for a minute, then ask, “Why can’t we get a hotel?”

“I can’t check in under my own name. And I don’t want to risk calling anyone.”

“What could calling someone hurt? You think they’d tell the news?”

He gives his head a slight shake. “That’s not what concerns me.”

“Then what?”

“Stop.”

I bite my tongue and take a deep breath. “Cade. I just got chased, tackled, and strip searched. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“Are you saying it’s my fault?”

“No! Just… I wish you would tell me more.”

He kisses my forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you. I won’t fail again.”