GetOn (2 page)

Art Ford might have been a spoiled rich kid all his life,
but he was a dangerous spoiled rich kid. Garrett had underestimated him once,
and that had cost him his girlfriend’s life.

Garrett smiled grimly as he wove through traffic. He’d be
repaying Ford for that as soon as he could. His life’s mission had been to nail
that fucker to the wall, and even though it had taken him nearly three years to
get this close, he could feel the finish line coming nearer.

Tonight he’d start closing the net. At that street race,
there was sure to be drugs. All he had to do was get good hard evidence and
leak it to the press before Artie’s daddy could have his pet congressman take
care of it. If the public knew first, there wasn’t anything the powerful head
of the Grantman Corporation could do to stop it.

Artie would be caught red-handed, and the little shit would
have to actually answer for himself for the first time in his life.

Garrett’s heart thudded evenly as he imagined exacting his
revenge. It wouldn’t bring Priscilla back, but at least she’d finally have
justice.

He’d die to bring it to her. Since he’d failed to keep her
alive, it was the least he could do. He’d never forgive himself for letting her
go.

Mia stared out the window, cursing herself for her impetuous
nature. The music was loud, the inhabitants of the car were louder and she was
starting to get a massive headache. Besides, with six people inside a small
SUV, it was pretty damn crowded, a fact that Chris—or Hands, as she was
starting to think of him—was using to his advantage.

“Hey,” she snapped as his arm brushed her breast for the
fourth time. “Watch it.”

“Go easy, princess,” Chris laughed as he tugged her nearest
curl. “It was just an accident.”

She smiled sweetly, leaning close to him. “And when I kick
you in the balls later, that’ll be an accident too. Back. The
Fuck
. Off
my tits.”

His eyes went wide and he jerked back. Mia would have
laughed if she wasn’t already wondering how much it would cost to get a cab
back to the hotel. And since she was limited to the cash in her pocket, it was
kind of a moot point anyway.

They’d been riding for over forty-five minutes now, leaving
the city and winding their way down rural back roads, dipping and rising over
low hills that seemed to be getting higher. So much for
not too far
.

Petra was in the front seat, passing a bagged bottle back
and forth. Mia refused it for the sixth time.

“I thought you were more fun than this,” Petra pouted as
they pulled off the road and onto a dirt path. “She’s not normally such a
prude,” she told the driver in a conversational tone.

Mia bit her tongue so hard she was afraid it would bleed. As
irritated as she was, she also knew that she had to depend on these people to
get her back to the hotel. God, if her
abuela
was alive, she’d never be
able to tell her this story. The old woman would have had a heart attack, and
then screamed at Mia until she couldn’t breathe.

And she’d be right. This wasn’t the smartest decision she’d
ever made.

The SUV rumbled down the path into a clearing clogged by a
bunch of cars. As the engine cut, Mia was already out the door, glad to finally
have her body to herself again. She would refuse to be wedged up against Handy
Chris on the way home. No matter how cute he was, he didn’t understand the word
“no”. But if he kept it up, she’d explain, and he wouldn’t like her definition.

“Hey, Mia, wait up,” Chris called from behind her, and Mia’s
fists tightened as she kept walking.

“Oh, let her go. She’s not any fun today.” Petra’s voice
floated to her. “Come on, I’ll keep you company.”

Mia shook her head as she stalked toward the road, following
the crowd of people. This was stupid. She shouldn’t have come here. She
should’ve stayed in the bar and tried her luck with the bartender. At least
then she’d be ignored and alone in a bar instead of out in the middle of Freddy
Krueger’s backyard.

Loud cheers came from the crowd as a flashy red Corvette
rumbled down the country road, stopping just at the edge of the grove of trees.
Off in the distance, Mia could make out a car parked sideways at the end of the
road. A blue Bugatti stopped beside it, the driver hanging one elbow out the
window as he waved to the crowd.

A familiar voice laughed behind her, and Mia glanced back.
She resumed walking in the opposite direction, wanting to put distance between
herself and Chris’ gang of friends. She might have to ride back with them, but
she didn’t have to stand with them and listen to Petra complain about how
prudish she was. She wasn’t a prude, but damn it, she didn’t want to be pawed.

She’d only been walking for a few minutes when a hush fell
over the crowd. She cast a glance back over her shoulder, relieved when she
couldn’t see Chris or Petra anymore. The only vehicle nearby was a motorcycle,
and the guy who stood beside it wasn’t even looking her way. Good. She’d kind
of struck out on making new friends today.

She looked down the road at the starting line. A guy stood
in front of both cars, less than a hundred yards away. He was dressed in baggy
jeans, a nice button-down and a huge silver chain. Obviously the master of
ceremonies. He flashed a big grin.

“Hey everybody, are you ready?” he shouted.

A giant cheer followed his words. Mia crossed her arms and
leaned back against a tree. A few rich boys and their toys, revving engines to
see whose dick was bigger? Not really her scene.

“This race is one lap. Down Farriss Road, right onto
Packhouse, right onto Graceland, which loops onto Farriss again. Total distance
is two miles. First one back to start is the winner.”

The MC paced in front of the cars, working the crowd as the
engines revved. His mouth was moving, but Mia couldn’t really make out what he
was saying anymore, as the cars and people competed for who could be the
loudest. With a grand gesture, the MC pointed at the Corvette and the
bystanders went wild. But when he pointed at the Bugatti a few seconds later,
they went absolutely nuts.

“Ridiculous,” Mia said as she kicked a pinecone. “Why the
fuck did I agree to this?”

Even as she bitched aloud, she couldn’t help but admire the
beauty of both cars. She liked to go fast. Hell, who didn’t? But she’d never be
able to afford a flashy car like that, not by piercing for a living. She loved
what she did, but it wasn’t exactly the most lucrative career.

A beautiful girl stood beside the MC, a flag in her hands.
He moved aside, and the energy of the place was humming now as the crowd
anticipated that scrap of fabric dropping. She held it high for one beat, two,
and then it dropped.

The cars took off, their back tires smoking and the crowd
screaming.

Mia’s breath caught in her throat as she watched them tear
past her. God, they were fast. Flashy and powerful. Made her wonder what it’d be
like to go that fast, just once.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, a blue light caught
her attention. She stared off into the distance but it didn’t disappear. It got
larger.

The cops were coming to break up the race. This was illegal,
wasn’t it?

Mia’s stomach dropped. “Oh shit.”

Garrett scanned the crowd from his position a little ways
down the stretch from the starting line. There weren’t many spectators, most of
them crowding by the cars, drinking, partying and generally having themselves a
ball. He nodded to Quentin, who’d parked his bike in the thick of it. The
signal passed from Quentin to Trent, and then to Reg, who was somewhere behind
the Bugatti.

And then Garrett waited. While Art’s supposed friend and
right-hand dealer drummed up the crowd, Reg was scoping out the lay of the
land. More than anything, Garrett needed to know where Art Ford was hiding.
What he was up to tonight. There had to be more to this than a simple race. The
recurring theme with Artie was always drugs, money and influence. So what did
he stand to gain with this little performance?

Garrett grunted. He’d know soon enough.

The return signal came only a second later. Quentin’s right
hand raised and fell twice.

Disappointment tensed his shoulders. Art wasn’t driving;
Garrett had expected he wouldn’t be. The coward wouldn’t risk his own hide,
even for this kind of show. But the signal meant he wasn’t in the car, and he
wasn’t in the thick of the crowd on the sidelines.

Where the fuck was that asshole?

The starting flag dropped and the cars took off, but Garrett
wasn’t looking at them anymore. He was staring into the woods across the road,
beyond the spot where a woman was propped against a tree, watching the race.
The moonlight was glinting off something far behind her in the trees, but he
couldn’t tell what. He stepped closer, trying to get a good look.

That’s when the woman took off, running toward the crowd.

“Shit, it’s the cops!” The cry came from his left, and chaos
ran through the spectators. They clambered over one another, sprinting for
their vehicles as sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer with every
second.

Garrett didn’t pay attention to any of them, instead
hurrying across the road to stare into the near-darkness. Was that a car in the
woods? A black SUV maybe?

Only a half second later, the headlights flashed on and the
SUV rumbled to life, barreling straight for the road. Garrett ducked behind a
tree, glad he’d worn black leather tonight. Between that and his dark-knit
skullcap, it was likely he hadn’t been seen. He gained his feet just as the
vehicle turned onto the road and a pale white face caught his eye.

“Goddammit, it’s Ford,” Garrett hissed as he sprinted for
his bike, weaving through the traffic that was now pouring onto the road. He
could make it, he could follow him, see where he was going—

Just then, the woman who’d been standing with her back
against the tree ran down the other side of the road.

“Wait for me!” she yelled, waving her arms wildly at a
departing SUV. “Petra, Chris, wait!”

But the vehicle didn’t stop, just kept rolling down the road
as if the nearby blue lights were after them alone.

Garrett swung his leg over the bike, looking back to the
road. Ford’s truck was still there in the distance. On his bike, he could
probably weave through the traffic, catch up with him, blend in…

“Hey, somebody!” The woman drew near, still waving at the
traffic, a frantic look on her face. “Don’t leave me here, please! My ride left
me! I don’t even know where I’m at.” She had long black hair that curled and moved
like a wild thing as she turned her head this way and that; full, pouting lips
and expressive eyes that raged at the fast-moving cars. She was beautiful. She
was alone…abandoned.

Garrett frowned. God damn his sense of chivalry.

He kicked the bike into gear and barreled straight across
the road, not paying attention to the vehicles that had to slam on their brakes
to prevent a collision. He slid to a stop just beside the woman and held out
his hand.

“Come with me.”

She reached for him, then hesitated. “Really? Who are you?”

“I’m your ride out of here. Get on, the cops are coming.”

She glanced to her right, where the sirens were screaming
louder than ever. He could even see the blue lights reflected in her eyes—a
deep green, at his best guess in the flashing light. Her fists tightened at her
sides, and when she took a deep breath, he was impressed with his fortitude,
not even glancing at the way her cleavage swelled at the top of her burgundy
neckline. Well, not glancing
long
, anyway.

“I hope I don’t regret this,” she said as she grabbed his
hand.

He steadied her as she climbed onto the bike behind him. Her
thighs gripped his and her hands locked around his midsection. He tensed his
abdominal muscles and revved the bike’s engine. “Hold on tight.”

He kicked the bike into motion and they joined the flow of
traffic. Garrett smiled at the feel of wind on his face and the feel of hot
woman behind him. He was almost sorry he couldn’t see her now, that wild hair
streaming behind them like a living flag. Her face was plastered against his
back, and her thighs were clamped so hard against his that he couldn’t help but
imagine what it’d be like to have her beneath him.

Maybe later
, he thought with an evil grin, swerving
into a gap between two cars, a gap almost too small for his bike. For now, they
had to get the hell out of there without being arrested.

They tore off into the night, driving much too fast. Exactly
how Garrett liked it.

Mia held tight to the guy as he weaved the bike in and out
of traffic, the long country road clogged with other drivers with the same idea
they had—to get out as fast as they could. Her heart thudded against the guy’s
back, and she tried really hard not to think about how firmly muscled her
rescuer was. Good grief, it was like hugging a rock.

She turned her face into his back to get the wind off it,
and breathed him in.

Mmmm. He smelled clean, with a hint of musky cologne. Her
belly stirred. Man. He smelled like a hot man.

Chill, Mia, you don’t know that he’s single.

She ignored the inner voice and adjusted her grip around his
stomach, indulging her fingertips in a brief moment of subtle wandering. Good
lord, washboard abs. The man was ripped.

And he just might be a serial killer. You don’t know shit
about him.

His voice interrupted her internal argument.

“Traffic’s slowing,” he yelled over his shoulder. She peeked
to the side, and sure enough, brake lights were flashing ahead. “Roadblock, I’m
sure.”

“I need to get back into the city,” she shouted.

“We’ll have to go another way. Hang on.”

“What?”

He didn’t answer, just pulled a U-turn then and there with
absolutely no warning. She squeaked in alarm, gripping him tight to keep from
sliding off the back of the motorcycle. As he sped in the opposite direction,
and Mia’s heart had descended from its position in her throat, she yelled at
him.

“A little warning would have been nice!”

“Those cops are looking for information, and if they saw me,
they’d assume they could get some. Unless you’ve got another ride home, you’re
going to have to trust me to get us out of this.”

Mia swallowed hard. She didn’t have another option, and she
knew it. Calling Jules or Matt to pick her up would be mortifying, if not the
final straw that killed her job at Drama. And she couldn’t afford that.

They rode for miles under the full moon, trees and fields
surrounding them. But just when Mia thought they might be getting close to
civilization again, more brake lights flashed in the distance.

“Motherfucker,” her driver cursed. “This isn’t going to
work. Hang on.”

This time, at least, she was ready for the bike’s maneuver.
She gripped him tightly, using her legs to clamp herself still.

“What are we going to do?” Mia yelled toward his ear. A
little hoop dangled there, flashing in the moonlight.

“Just a second,” he called back, and in a moment he’d
steered them off the road onto a narrow dirt track between thick stands of
trees. He cut the bike’s engine and held out a hand to help Mia off first. She
hated to admit it, but her knees were sort of weak from the adrenaline and the
bike’s vibration.

The quiet was almost deafening, there beside the road. The
cars still blinked off in the distance, such a ways away that they were totally
alone.

And no one can hear you scream
, her subconscious
whispered insidiously. With a mental punch to shut up the doubting bitch in her
head, Mia turned to her rescuer.

Good god—and she’d thought Chris was a beautiful man? This
one had him beat. A slight cleft in his strong chin was offset by a pair of
lethal dimples. He was wearing a black knit cap pulled down over his ears. But
what had her transfixed wasn’t his yummy five o’clock shadow, or the fact that
his nose was just a little bit crooked. It was his eyes. In the moonlight, they
were clear as glass and pale as smoke.

They seemed to look right through her.

“Sorry about yanking you around back there,” he said,
dismounting from the bike and then pulling off his gloves. “I should have
slowed down a bit.”

“No, it’s okay. You saved my ass.” Mia tried to tear her
gaze from his eyes, but she couldn’t. God, they were incredible. “If not for
you, I’d probably be sitting in the back of a cruiser right now. Thank you.”

He nodded, giving her a smile that deepened those dimples.
Mia clamped her legs together to keep the throbbing to a minimum.

“It was my pleasure.” He moved to the edge of the trees,
looking over at the cars that were still sitting down the road, a half-mile or
more away. “We’ve got a problem though. It looks like they’ve blocked both
directions.”

“Shit,” Mia said as the gravity of the situation hit her.
“How am I supposed to get back to the hotel?”

“Where are you staying?”

“The Sheraton,” she said without thinking, and then winced.
“I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Hey, just out of curiosity, you’re
not a serial killer or anything, are you?”

She’d hoped he would laugh, but he just shook his head.

“Not me. I used to be a cop, actually. Garrett Long.” He
stuck out his bare hand and she took it automatically.

She gasped aloud as his skin came into contact with hers. Oh
my god, it was like being shocked by a faulty wire, but in a delicious way. The
electricity sizzled up her arm and down her body, focusing its energy on her
tight nipples and deep in the well of her belly.

“I… I’m Mia,” she said, tossing her hair like nothing had
happened. “Mia Bartholomew.”

“Well, Mia,” he said, dropping her hand after a
heart-stopping moment, “we’ve got three choices. Choice one, we can go get in
line and chat with the cops, which will probably land you in the police
station. They can’t arrest you for attending a street race but they can keep
you for questioning, and that can take hours. Two, we can cut through the woods
and go around all this mess to get back to the city. Which would also take
hours. Three, we can hole up in a nearby hotel for the night and wait them out.
The roadblocks will be gone by morning.”

Mia bit her lip as she considered. On the one hand, she sure
as hell didn’t want to end up in a police station. After her slightly
light-fingered teenage years, which still seemed to crop up at the most
inconvenient times, she wasn’t exactly a fan of being questioned. On the other
hand, she didn’t know Garrett at all.

But then he scratched his stomach, and she caught a glimpse
of those abs.

Her eyes bugged.

When she could think again, she plugged in her million-watt
smile and took Garrett by the arm.

“Hotel it is. Lead the way, biker boy.”

* * * * *

As they pulled into the parking lot of a sleepy little motel
just on the outskirts of Riverville, Garrett tried hard to keep his mind on the
mission.

He’d been so close and hadn’t even known it. He should have
at least gotten the plates of that black SUV, but he’d been so distracted by
the woman behind him that he’d let the bastard get away. Self-disgust rose in
him, but then she shifted on the seat, rubbing her thigh against his ass, and
the emotion turned into something else entirely.

Lust.

She was gorgeous, and he’d have had to be dead or blind not
to notice. She was short but thick, all breasts and hips and softly rounded
thighs. And that hair—good god. It had a mind of its own, especially after the
wild motorcycle ride. It was like a storm cloud of curls, and his fingers
itched to bury themselves inside it.

Garrett stopped the bike in an open parking spot beside a
bevy of Coke machines and Mia jumped off. Mia. Beautiful name for a beautiful
woman.

Cool it, asshole
, he snapped inwardly.
Focus on
what you have to do.

He yanked the keys from the switch and dismounted, turning to
Mia when she cleared her throat.

“I’m really sorry,” she began, not looking at his face. “But
I just have my ID and about twenty bucks in my pocket. So, I don’t have any
money for this.” She gestured at the hotel.

He crooked a half-smile. “It’s no problem. You want me to
get two rooms, I guess?”

“Oh god no,” Mia said, finally looking directly at him.
“That’ll be too much money. I don’t mind. Hell, you haven’t killed me yet,
right?” She laughed, but it was a nervous, high thing.

He took pity on her. “Listen, like I said, I used to be a
cop. Atlanta PD. I don’t have a criminal record, I don’t shoot women and I’m
not a creep. Here.” He tossed her his cell phone. “You can call anyone in that
address book, and they’ll tell you.”

She looked at the expensive phone then back at him. He
waited, not speaking just looking at her. Finally, she tossed the phone back.

“I trust you. It’s crazy, but I do.”

He held out his hand. “Then come on.”

She took it, and they walked to the hotel lobby
hand-in-hand, like lovers instead of complete strangers.

Garrett took care of business at the desk while Mia hung
back slightly. The transaction was completed so fast, a quick swipe of his
credit card and the passing of plastic keycards. Less than three minutes later,
they’d left the lobby and were walking up the stairs to room 215.

“Here we go,” Mia said, slipping the plastic card into the
slot. “Home sweet…home.”

Garrett looked over her shoulder and bit back his laugh. One
bed. One king-sized bed in the center of the room.

Mia whirled, her brows narrowed, color high in her cheeks.
Garrett raised both his hands to ward off the big storm that was most
definitely coming.

“I didn’t do this,” Garrett said, backing away and keeping
his amusement under on a tight leash. “The guy didn’t ask what kind of room,
you heard everything I said. I’ll go back and get the room changed…”

Mia deflated. Going from red-hot rage one minute to utter
defeat, she just sort of sagged where she stood.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t do this.
Hell, I owe you huge. You saved my ass from the cops and you’re putting me up
for the night.” She moved a step closer, the deep green of her eyes looking
dangerously wet. “Thank you, Garrett. Sincerely. Thanks.”

An invisible rope twined around him, an urge he couldn’t
place and didn’t fight. It pulled him down, bending low until he could capture
her lips. She gasped, and he took advantage of her parted lips, tasting her.
God, she was sweet, soft and wet, and he could only dream of how the rest of
her would feel. But then he remembered himself and straightened.

“You’re welcome.”

He waited for her to slap him but she didn’t. He waited for
her to yell, to rail at him, but she kept silent. She raised her hand to her
lips and touched them softly.

“I’ve got to make a few calls,” Garrett said. He tossed his
leather jacket on the chair by the window. He didn’t imagine the way Mia stared
at his defined arms, and he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t pleased. Good. She was
just as turned-on by him as he was by her. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Pocketing the second keycard, Garrett stepped onto the open
walkway in front of their room. When the door clicked shut behind him, he
dragged in a deep breath, gripping the metal handrail and staring out over the
half-empty parking lot.

Good god, he was horny. And she was hot. And that kiss had
made his cock stand up like nothing had in a damn long time. But he was a
gentleman, and he wouldn’t take advantage of her.

No matter how fucking much he wanted to.

He shook his head to clear it and pulled his cell from his
pocket. Leaning against the railing, he brought up his contacts and tapped on
Trent’s name.

“Where the hell have you been?” his best friend answered
halfway through the first ring. “Reg is in custody for questioning, and Quentin
and I are back at the house. I’ve been calling you for an hour, man.”

“Relax,” Garrett said, “I’m fine. Just took a little detour
to avoid the roadblocks. In Riverville now, riding out the night in a hotel.”

“Thank god,” Trent said. Quentin’s low growl of a voice came
through the background. “Hey, Q says he saw someone on the bike with you when
you left. What’s that about?”

“Just a damsel in distress.” Garrett glanced through the
small crack in the curtains but he couldn’t see her. “I’m doing my good deed
for the day, that’s all. Her ride left her, so I let her come with me. I’ll
drop her back home tomorrow.”

“If Q saw the two of you, someone else might have too. We’ll
do some checking. If the cover’s blown, we’ll need to do some work.”

“True. Let me know. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Garrett ended the call and turned to look out at the
deserted street in front of the hotel. He’d been so close today, close to
seeing Ford in person for the first time since Priscilla’s death. He had to
press his advantage. Tomorrow he’d follow up on some other tips, try to get
some hard evidence. But it wouldn’t be easy. Arthur Ford Jr. had been doing
this for a while now, and he didn’t leave too many leads. Especially since the
big bust. He was extra careful now, so Garrett would have to be extra diligent.

A breeze played up then, and Garrett gripped the railing.
What the hell would he do when he’d finished this job? Revenge had consumed his
life for so long, he hadn’t really given it a thought. But the parking lot
didn’t hold any answers, even after staring at it for a long time.

Turning to the hotel room door, he allowed himself a smile.
Maybe it wasn’t so hard to think of living after all.

The little light on the lock flashed green as he swiped his
card, and he pushed the door open. But two steps into the hotel room, he
stopped.

Mia was lying on top of the cream-colored blanket, bare feet
tucked together, knees drawn up tight. Sound asleep.

He stepped to her side, jammed his hands in his pockets and
looked his fill. Curves, curves, more curves and curls. That was Mia. Her
tanned skin looked even darker against the lightness of the blanket beneath
her. He wasn’t exactly sure what her heritage was, but in the dimness she
looked exotic. The patterned comforter was balled up at the foot of the bed, as
if she’d kicked it there. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and her
dark lashes dusted her cheeks.