Identity Crisis (16 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Garrett felt like a naughty teenager as they sneaked out the back door, through the gate of the privacy fence, and down the alley. He wore a shapeless tracksuit with the black hoodie pulled up over his head and a scruffy pair of Converse sneakers that weren’t exactly designed for dancing. And Kendra, well, she hardly looked ratty, in his opinion. She wore low rider jeans, and where they weren’t hugging her body like a second skin, they were full of threadbare, flesh-revealing holes. The black sweat top she wore was cut short enough to show a tantalizing flash of her navel and hip bones when she moved just right. It slid off one shoulder to reveal the thin, lacy strap of a red bra. She wore all of her russet locks tucked up under a leather beret. Her fashion statement was topped off with black ankle boots. She looked very, very dangerous. And hot. Of course, she didn’t need to dress the part for either, he thought. He was already certain on both counts.

‘You live a little closer to The Boiling Point than Dee does.’ She took his hand and nodded to where the alley
T-ed with the street, and then gave way to the park on the other side. ‘She never goes there, of course. Well, she did once, but that was just for Harris, then he hated it.’ She giggled. ‘God, I wish I could have been there for that.’

‘Am I going to hate it?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘Probably not. You’re much more of a bad boy than Harris is, or is that all an act?’

The long line of shiny chrome Harleys out front of the squat cinderblock building gave Garrett the first clue that this was not
Dancing with the Stars
. Kendra waved them away absently. ‘The Boiling Point’s not really a biker bar, but it’s kind of the warm-up act, I suppose you could say. Lots of bikers start off here before they head on to their usual haunts. Makes for an exciting mix. Later in the night there are almost no bikers. But there are always lots of interesting people.’

Any other time, Garrett would have been up for meeting interesting people, but tonight he couldn’t imagine anyone interesting him more than the woman on his arm. He paid the fee at the door and a surly man the size of a small house with fire-engine hair and a scruffy beard stamped their hands with a red ink TBP.

Inside, a live band had just begun to play to a full, but not yet crowded house. ‘The place gets raided from time to time,’ Kendra said. ‘I don’t know what all goes on. I just come here because it’s interesting.’

‘A good raid and us carted off to the police station will really give the press something to talk about,’ Garrett observed.

‘Don’t worry.’ She yelled to be heard above the band’s bass-heavy version of
Highway to Hell
. ‘They just got raided last week. They’ll be good to go for a while now. We can relax and enjoy ourselves.’ She pulled him onto the dance floor. ‘Best dance while there’s room. In a few hours it’ll be a real tit squeeze.’

Kendra Davis was just as stunning dark and dangerous as she was golden and romantic, as she was naked in his kitchen, and she definitely knew how to move on the dance floor. But it made Garrett more than a little nervous that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to be noticing the way the woman could shake her booty. He thought about asking her to try not to draw too much attention to herself, but he wasn’t even sure it was possible for Kendra Davis not to draw attention.

The place smelled of leather and beer, and sweat. Already there was a thick haze of pheromones invisible to the eye, but everyone there breathed them, gave them off, and reveled in the dark anticipation of what the night might bring. The look in Kendra’s eyes was bright and wicked, like she would do anything, try anything, like all the boundaries were suddenly negotiable.

And fuck, as amazing as she was like that, as much as he wanted to lose himself in the place, in the experience, there was no way he could keep from thinking about who might be watching her in that crowd, about who might be waiting for just the perfect opportunity.

As though she was reading his mind, she pulled him to her with a hand curled around his neck and spoke against his ear. ‘Oh, would you relax, Garrett. Do you really think this is the kind of hangout Tess Delaney would frequent?’

Then she slid both arms around his neck and let him pull her into a deep, hungry kiss. When it ended with an aggressive flick of his tongue, she offered a throaty giggle. ‘Marking our territory, are we?’ Before he had a chance to respond, she returned the favor, plunging her tongue in deep, and tightening a fist in his hair to pull him closer.

He moved a hand to the small of her back and gave her the full frontal rub-up, enough to be sure she knew she’d gotten his cock’s attention. ‘You see where this is leading if you keep that up?’

She pulled away and gave his crotch some breathing room as the music settled into a heavy metal beat that filled the dance floor with lots of heavily booted bikers and their spandex and leather women. Garrett was surprised to find more than a few men in pressed jeans and designer polo shirts bellied up to the bar in the mix that looked like it was probably mostly low-brow. He wasn’t the only man who looked like he’d just come from a workout at the corner gym and Kendra’s shredded jeans seemed to be the fashion statement of more than a few women among a smattering of Goth and grunge and plain old redneck jeans and T-shirts with baseball caps.

With each song the band played, the dance floor became fuller and fuller. The strobe light flashed and the disco ball bathed the floor in sparkles as people rocked and strutted and sweated, and it became more and more difficult to tell who was dancing with whom. Garrett was about to grab Kendra by the hand and reel her back in so they could stay connected when a biker in a ZZ Top T-shirt that smelled like an ashtray and looked like it might have been painted across his bulging pecs managed to slide in between them, turn his back on Garrett, and focus his full attention on Kendra. And suddenly all Garrett could see was his broad back.

‘Kendra,’ he called, but his voice was drowned out in the roar of Def Leppard. And that might have been OK if the man hadn’t been so fucking big. Kendra was certainly entitled to dance with whomever she liked. But he couldn’t see her. He fucking couldn’t see her! Not even her feet between the man’s shuffling boots. ‘Kendra!’ He called again. Louder this time. That at least got the man’s attention, but when he turned to see what Garrett wanted, and he could see beyond the biker’s bulk, Kendra was not there! The woman the man was dancing with had cropped blonde hair and a leather bustier several sizes too small.

‘Kendra!’ Garrett called out, louder this time, shoving his way past the biker, who pulled the blonde to him protectively. Frantically Garrett scanned the burgeoning crowd on the dance floor, scanned the women with hats. There were cowboy hats, police hats, even a few stocking caps, but there were just too many people, too many lights, too much noise. In his mind he could only think of Razor Sharp’s horrid email and Kendra’s response to it. Why the hell hadn’t he forced the issue? Why the hell hadn’t he made her tell him why she was so upset, made her tell him about the stalker Dee had mentioned? And fuck! Why had he let her talk him into bringing her here?

He shoved and pushed his way to the edge of the dance floor, fumbled in his pocket for his BlackBerry, and punched in Kendra’s number. It rang endlessly with no response until Kay Lake’s voicemail picked up. ‘Where the hell are you?’ he growled into the phone, then shoved it back into his pocket and resumed his search. A tall woman in a red jumpsuit and a cowboy hat tried to entice him back onto the dance floor, then flipped him the finger and an insult about the size of his dick, which he only caught part of as he shoved past her, wishing they’d shut off the damn strobe light so he could see, wishing the band would take a break and clear the dance floor. Had she gone to the restroom? Surely she would have told him if she had. He cornered one of the biker women coming out of the bathrooms. ‘Excuse me, have you seen a tall woman in a black beret in the restroom?’

She shook her head and walked a wide path around him like he was some pervert, and she wouldn’t have told him anything.

He had just pulled out his cell phone to call again, when he looked up to find Kendra standing at the bar with a drink in her hand, and his knees nearly gave from relief. One of the designer fashion boys was chatting her up. And immediately the relief was replaced with something a lot more tetchy. He shoved past a knot of Goths who mumbled and gave him a few nasty looks, but he was way past being polite at the moment.

‘The Porsche outside, it’s mine,’ Fashion Boy was telling Kendra, preening with one hand while he held a beer in the other. ‘Bought it with my bonus from last year. It’s one helluva ride.’ He moved in closer. ‘If you’re interested.’

‘I’m not.’

‘She’s not.’

Both he and Kendra spoke at the same time.

The man raised his hands and backed away, and Garrett grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and marched her toward the door. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he said, half shoving her out into the warm summer air, past the curious gaze of the bouncers.

‘What do you mean, where have
I
been?’ She yanked her arm away. ‘I was dancing. I looked around and you were nowhere to be found. So I went to the bar to wait. I figured that would be the first place you’d look for me, and why are you so angry?’

‘Why am I so angry? You scared the shit out of me, that’s why I’m so angry.’ He jerked her closer to him. ‘One minute you’re dancing with me and the next minute the Incredible Hulk steps in between us and then you’re gone.’

‘Where are we going?’ she said, pulling back.

He jerked her forward. ‘Home, damn it. We’re going home, where it’s safe.’ He half marched, half dragged her through the parking lot across the road and to the edge of the park before she gave him a shove, pulled away from him altogether, and turned on him.

‘Fuck you, Garrett! I haven’t done anything wrong and even if I had, you’re not my father. I’ll go home when I’m damn good and ready.’

‘So what? You want to go back and ride banker boy’s Porsche, do you? Is that it? He buys you a drink and you let him give you a ride.’

That she didn’t slap him was the first shock; the second was that she didn’t turn back to the Boiling Point, but that she headed on into the park at a pace that a racehorse would have struggled to keep up with.

‘I bought my own drink, you asshole. And I came with you. You’re the only one who gets to give me a ride.’

‘Kendra, I’m sorry. Kendra, wait!’ He struggled to catch up with her. ‘I just panicked when I couldn’t find you. I’m sorry, OK. I panicked.’

‘And you just assumed that I was on the make. Fuck you, Garrett! Fuck you!’

It was then that he realized she was leading him off the main path into the darkened edge of the park. ‘Kendra, where are you going?’

She didn’t respond, so he kept following her up a winding path deeper into the center of the park.

At the top of the hill, in a grove of hawthorn trees and rose bushes in fragrant full bloom, there was a bench. The leaves of the trees admitted a tiny pool of light from the street lamps just above it. ‘Kendra, where the hell are you going?’ He grabbed her hand, and she turned on him so quickly that he thought for sure this was when she would slap him – certainly, he couldn’t blame her – but instead she fisted both hands in the front of his hoodie and pulled him to her in an angry kiss, then one hand migrated into the front of his track bottoms, and inside his boxers.

‘God, Kendra, what the –?’

She swallowed up his words, biting his lip, sucking his tongue, licking at the back of his teeth and his hard palate until he couldn’t breathe. Her fist around his cock was a stranglehold, and even in its discomfort it felt like he was in heaven. ‘Kendra, I can’t …’ He tried to push her hand away, but the other hand snaked in and jerked his bottoms and boxers down over his ass until he could feel the night air on bare flesh. He wriggled and squirmed, his heart racing in his chest. ‘Jesus, Kendra, you can’t be serious. This is a public place. What if someone –?’

She bit his lip hard enough that he wondered if she’d drawn blood, and his cock surged so strongly in her hand that he feared he’d come right there.

‘Shut up, Garrett,’ she growled against his mouth. ‘I need you to fuck me, so just shut up.’

He heard the crackle of foil and, with a sleight of hand that nearly took his breath away, she sheathed him in the condom. Then, with hands that seemed as full of anger and need as the rest of her, she ripped open the fly of her shredded jeans and shoved them down. Christ! There were no panties!

‘I need you, Garrett.’ She struggled to breathe. ‘I need you to fuck me right now. I can’t wait. Right now. Right now!’ She turned her back to him, still shoving and pushing at the jeans until they were down around her thighs and the rounded heart shape of her bottom showed in the pale light. Then she bent over and rested a palm onto the seat of the park bench. With the other hand, she reached behind her, grabbed his hip, and pulled him up close until his cock pressed into the valley between her buttocks. ‘Do it, Garrett. I can’t stand it any longer. Do it now!’ She wasn’t trying to be quiet. She wasn’t trying to be subtle. She didn’t care that there were other people still using the park, that they might get caught, and Garrett felt like he’d burst at the very thought of what they were doing – and where.

She opened herself to him and shifted her hips, while he, with one hand low on her back and the other on his cock, fumbled and maneuvered until he slid home. She grunted a curse and pushed back onto him hard, and they both cried out as they began to thrust.

Her beret tumbled off behind the park bench and he grabbed at her ponytail as it fell free, reining her in with it. He yanked her back toward him like it might help him control her somehow. He yanked her back until he could bury his mouth against her neck, rake her pulse point with his teeth, suckle and nip until the sounds coming from both their throats were feral groans and grunts.

With a quick movement, she unhooked her bra, grabbed his free hand, and guided it to the bounce and the fullness of her breasts, nipples tight and puckered against the rake of his thumb. Then she grabbed his hand from her hair and brought his fingers to her mouth, licking and nibbling before she shoved them down between her legs, down to the heavy strain of her clit.