I Belong to You (6 page)

Six

Crystal . . .

The day zooms by with one challenge after another, and before I can blink, I’m in an Escalade with Jacob, to drive me to dinner. “Is all well in your neck of the woods?” he asks.

“As well as can be expected,” I say, shrugging out of my coat and setting my tote bag on the floor.

“Did you arrange security through your father?” he asks, moving the gearstick into drive.

“No. I realized that someday, one of you is going to have to protect Mark from me. Since he intentionally provokes me, it seems fair that he should pay for what’s essentially his own protection, not mine.”

Jacob chuckles. “Yes, I suppose he should.” He pulls out onto the street.

“Any news on Ava?” I ask as we reach the stoplight.

“Nothing,” he says. “But since Blake’s working with the police in California, we’ll know if anything turns up on that end.”

“Do you think she’s dead?”

“I really don’t know.”

The frustration in his tone tells me he’s giving me the truth. We fall into silence for the rest of the drive, and I think of the way Mark immediately whisked me to an airport after finding out about Ava’s escape. I also remember the taste of fear, regret, and guilt in his kiss. And I think of how those things must be magnified now that he’s here, with people around him who could be hurt if Ava shows up. It has to be destroying him—yet he couldn’t stay away. Will he ever be able to stop looking over his shoulder if Ava isn’t found?

As Jacob parks in the private garage of the seventeen-story Fifth Avenue building where the Comptons reside, I’ve begun to think about Jacob’s certainty that Mark is after Ava himself. And with my new perspective, I can’t help but wonder if, given the same risks and lack of answers Mark is faced with, my sanity wouldn’t require I look for Ava myself, as well.

Jacob motions to my door. “One of my men is approaching on your right, Crystal. You’re in such deep thought I didn’t want him to scare you.”

“Oh,” I say, not realizing how checked out I’ve been. “Yes. Thanks.”

Jacob exits his side of the vehicle and my door is opened by a tall man with long blond hair tied at his nape. Despite his dark suit, he looks more like a rock star than a lethal weapon. He offers me his hand, his sleeve rising up enough to offer me a glimpse of the tattoo on his wrist. “Asher is my name, Ms. Smith. I’m with Walker Security.”

Jacob rounds the hood to stand beside us, and Asher turns his attention to him. “I’ve let the Comptons know you’ve arrived, and the service hallway and elevator have been cleared. No one should know she’s here.”

“Good,” Jacob says, on edge and ready for any problem.

“Why are we taking the service elevator?” I ask. “The building’s security is excellent; no one gets in without invitation.”

“We have reason to believe that someone from the staff gave the press tips the last time Mark was here,” Jacob explains.

“Did the press come here today, too?” I ask.

“Yes,” Asher confirms. “Early this morning.”

My brow furrows. “Then how could the leak come from here? Mark hadn’t shown up yet.”

“But we had talked to the apartment and arranged security,” Asher replies. “And the word from some of the staff is that there have been issues for other tenants in the building.”

“Asher here has a way of making people drop their guard,” Jacob says. “He’s going to find out who it is.”

Asher smiles. “It’s the tats and ex-rocker background. They think I’m still that guy.”

Jacob points to the door. “Follow Asher. I have your back.”

Does he expect bullets to start flying? All of a sudden, I’m not sure Jacob’s claim of knowing nothing about Ava is true.

The elevator opens and Jacob follows me inside, keying in a security code for the fifteenth floor, which Dana and Steven own. “When you’re done,” he says, “call me and I’ll come up and get you.”

“I will. Any idea who’s going to be my security person?”

“Since you’ll have protection at Riptide, and Mark will have protection both here at his parents’ and while he’s at work, I’ll be able to stay point man for both of you, using backup as needed. At night we’ll have someone see you to your apartment, and we’ll be on call if you need to go out.”

Tension rolls through me. “I really hate every move I make being monitored, but I know it’s necessary. And you’ve already seen the dynamic between me and Mark, which makes you the best one equipped to protect Mark when I snap.”

He doesn’t laugh as I expect him to. The elevator stops and he holds the doors open. “Yes, I know about the two of you, as does Blake, but to every possible extent, we’ll keep the relationship private.”

“It’s not a relationship.”

His eyes narrow slightly and he looks like he wants to say something, but he only pauses before saying, “Call me when you’re ready to leave.”

“I will. Thank you, Jacob.”

“My pleasure,” he says, allowing the door to shut.

The instant that he’s out of sight, I cut to my right and go down a glossy, pale African wood hallway, nerves fluttering in my stomach. At the door I skip the buzzer, in case Dana has fallen asleep, knocking lightly instead. When it opens Mark is standing there, the knot to his red tie several inches down his shirt, his jacket off, his collar loose. I feel a jolt of pure heat as every nerve ending in me comes alive, and I quickly lower my lashes before he notices. Despite my certainty that a man like Mark Compton could never reach me emotionally, despite how he’s behaved in the past twenty-four hours, I am still devastatingly drawn to him. It must be a biological defect that I crave a man who’s destined to shred my heart.

“Ms. Smith,” he says, and the snap in his tone jolts me to the core. I look at him, giving him the control he wants over me.

In that moment he owns me as he’s promised, and Lord help me, as I look into the steely hardness of those gray eyes and find a predatory gleam, part of me wants to be owned by this man. I’m wet with the idea, my nipples aching, and my knees weak. He knows it, too. I see it in the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, and the freedom he feels to lower his gaze for an inspection that goes from my toes to my head, lingering in the more erotic regions. I swallow hard, feeling every second like a stroke of his hand, the lick of his tongue. I’m in big trouble, which he confirms when he grabs my hand and pulls me hard against his hard body.

“We need to talk,” he announces.

My hand flattens on the wall of his truly impressive chest. “Yes, we do,” I say, sounding remarkably firm, despite all the places he’s making warm and tingly.

He stares down at me, his expression unreadable. But the thundering of his heart beneath my palm tells me he’s powerfully affected by me, too.

“No time like the present,” he finally murmurs, taking my hand in his bigger one and pulling me inside.

“Not now,” I say. “Not here.”

“Now,” he insists, and the intimate way he laces his fingers with mine stirs odd feelings in my chest.

“Your mother—”

He pulls me forward and in a few steps we’re inside the elegant library, where walls of books are illuminated by droplights from a high ceiling. I turn to face him, not sure what to expect next with his changing moods.

He shuts the door, and before I can blink, he’s advanced on me and I’m against the wall. His hands are pressed to the wall above my head, but he doesn’t touch me. And I want him to. Too much. So damn much.

“Topic number one,” he says tightly. “You aren’t using your own security people. You’re my responsibility.”

My irritation is instant. “I am
not
your responsibility.”

“Don’t push me on this, Ms. Smith.”

“You know what? It
is
Ms. Smith to you. And don’t order me around like I’m your submissive. I didn’t sign your damn contract.”

“I think we’re both clear on that fact.”

“And you were right: We definitely need boundaries.”

“I won’t have my security process compromised by outsiders who aren’t fully accountable to me. You’re using my security team. Subject closed.”

“Spare me the dictator routine. I already told Jacob I’d use your people.”

“When?”

“On the way over here.”

“Why?”

“Because you and my father would be like the
Clash of the Titans
. You and I clash enough on our own. We don’t need to add more to the mix.”

His eyes sharpen. “Is that what you call what we do?” he asks, his voice a rough, low tone that creates a tingling in my nipples. “Clashing?”

I swallow hard, trying to control the heaviness of my breathing that I fear he’s already noticed. “You have a better name for it?”

“Many words come to mind. Should I start listing them?”

“No,” I say, certain I won’t approve of his choices. He glances at my mouth, and I suddenly remember the spicy, delicious way he tastes. Instinctively, my hands flatten on the hard wall of his chest. “Don’t kiss me,” I warn. The heat darting up my arms tells me how bad an idea touching him was.

“But you want me to,” he says, his hands sliding to my wrists, and somehow he makes it darkly erotic. This isn’t one of our spontaneous moments that we dismiss the next day. This is different, uncharted territory.

He leans closer and I splay my fingers on his chest, applying pressure. “I said don’t.”

“Because you don’t want me to, or because you’re afraid of where it will lead?”

“Because I said it. That’s the only reason you need.”

“Yet you didn’t deny that you want me to.”

“Eve really wanted the apple, and look where it got her.”

“If anyone’s being tempted by a poison apple”—his head lowers, lips close to mine, breath warm and tempting on my cheek—“it’s me.”

My fingers flex against hard muscle. “Mark—”

“I think it’s because you’re afraid of where it might lead, of the power you think it might give me over you.”

I try to tug my wrists away but he holds me easily, a gleam in his eyes. “I never fell into bed with you,” I say. “I was captive to the emotions you were feeling, feeding off those. You don’t have the power over me.”

“No. You have the power. That’s what you don’t understand.
You
have the power—or I wouldn’t be lying in bed at night remembering how you taste.” He pauses for effect. “And I do remember how you taste. All of you. Every last inch. Your mouth. Your neck. Your nipples. Your—”

“Stop it,” I hiss, knowing exactly what he was going to say next. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

He inches backward, releasing my wrists, and taking the promise of a kiss with him, those gray eyes resting keenly on my face. “What am I trying to do?”

“This is a game. It’s manipulation.”

“I want to fuck you. Many times. Many ways. How is that manipulation?”

“One minute you want to fuck me. The next—”

“I
always
want to fuck you. I just want to do it my way. With your pleasure at my mercy. Your hands tied up. Your legs tied up. Your clit on my tongue.”

“Stop.”

“Why? Am I making you wet?”

I glare, my only defense against an answer I’m not going to give him.

“I’ll find out myself,” he says, dragging my hemline upward before I know his intent.

I grab his hand and my skirt. “Don’t even
think
about it.”

“We’re both thinking about it.”

His cell phone rings and he stiffens, drawing a deep breath before his hands fall away from me and he steps back a good foot. He pulls out a phone I haven’t seen before and quickly answers, “Give me a minute.” He covers the receiver. “I need to take this,” he informs me.

I manage a nod despite my reeling senses, but his energy has changed, and his eyes harden along with his voice as he adds,
“Alone.”

The slap of the dismissal shakes me to the core, jolting me into a flicker of a memory of the past I never wanted to visit again. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the flashback. Mark Compton really
is
the apple. He’s stealing my control, to create his own.

I leave the room, pulling the door shut behind me. “The end,” I whisper. I will not let him play these games with me.

Mark . . .

I watch Crystal leave, and am cursing at the look on her face before she’s gone. Then I curse the damn disposable phone that chose the worst time to ring—when I should be glad that it stopped me from doing something we would both regret. I hadn’t meant to do what just happened, and that’s a problem. My plan to make her hate me won’t work if I can’t keep my damn hands off her.

Punching the Answer button, I say, “Give me good news.”

“Kilmer started the morning out with some devastating financial news that he spent all day trying to correct, but failed.”

“What happened to no names?”

“It leaves room for confusion, and I know you don’t like confusion. Trade out the phone. Text me the number and I’ll call you from another line.”

“Fine. What other news do you have for me?”

“There’s chatter about Ava in some of my circles.”

“What kind of chatter?”

“She was seen at a dive motel known to be popular with unsavory types, since they keep no records.”

“When? Where?”

“The day before yesterday. That’s all I know. I’m meeting the source tomorrow.”

“You don’t know if she’s still in Cali?”

“No.”

“Was she alone?” I ask.

“According to the information I was given, she was with a known mercenary.”

“A mercenary. By choice or as a prisoner?”

“My source wasn’t willing to disclose the information.”

“Let me guess,” I say through gritted teeth. “He wants money. Translation: You want money.”

“Another ten K.”

I’m irritated, but if Ava’s befriended a crazy killer, I need to know. “Ten K up front. Another five-K bonus when I get answers.”

“I can live with that arrangement.”

“I’m sure you can. I’ll transfer the money later tonight.”

“Then you’ll have answers tomorrow. This might be a good time to think about what you want me to do with Ava when I have her.”

“Find her. That’s what matters right now.” I end the call and tuck the disposable phone in my pocket to retrieve my regular cell, punching in Blake Walker’s number.