Surrender (11 page)

I grunt. “She’s not a bottle brunette, idiot.”

He grins, picks up his beer mug, and chugs the remainder of his drink. We’re all pretty drunk. “Can you handle it alone? I have a date in a few minutes.”

“Where are you going?” Winston asks.

“VIP.”

“Can I watch?”

I end up in VIP alone. Other table dances are going on by the time I sit down. I watch the interactions between the girls and customers. Sex sells. Especially in dimly lit smoky back rooms where no one can see what’s going on. I gaze at the bouncer near the door. Full coitus could start and the bastard wouldn’t move. Robyn joins me fifteen minutes later. She’s wearing a black halter top, Daisy Dukes, and matching heels. Her hair is in pigtails. I thought she looked young before . . . I suck in a breath. The waitress brings us ice water and a bowl of pretzels.

“Winston and Wesley aren’t housebroken, are they?” Robyn asks.

There’s a tiny pause while I check her out. She’s too hot. “Red-blooded American cowboys,” I tease.

“Blue bloods,” she adds.

“Yeah.” They come from old Texas money. “Don’t hold it against them.”

“I don’t,” she says, her voice spiking a little. “Do I hold it against you?”

Mmmm.
I hope she won’t. But if she does, I’ll work doubly hard to convince her otherwise. She’s mine already. As far as I’m concerned, Robyn can hold anything against me she wants to, including that smokin’ body.

“I haven’t complained about your bling-bling.”

Bling-bling?
The first thing to come to mind is Kanye West and Kim Kardashian. We’re way better-looking, I think with a grin. “Want a little bling-bling of your own?” I think pearl necklace.

Her expression turns dark. “I’ll never ask you for
anything.
”

“Easy, girl. I
want
you to depend on me a little.”

She turns up her hand. “That’s the first step to complete dependency. I appreciate the offer, cowboy.” She cocks her head. “Sorry if I come off as a hard-ass. I’m overly sensitive sometimes.”

“Come here.” I motion. She eases into the chair next to me. I take her hand. “What’s going on, baby?”

She glances around to make sure nobody is listening. “I can’t keep my mind off you.” She looks miserable.

“Regretting what happened between us?” That thought has a sobering effect on me.

“Never.” She squeezes my hand. “It’s just . . .” She hesitates. “I can’t concentrate.”

Good.
Her response was so unexpected I almost laugh out loud. I’ll never admit it, but I feel the same. “Tonight?”

A ghost of a smile lights up her eyes. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Rob Zombie comes on and I slide my chair back. “Bring it, baby.” She’s near enough that I could reach out and pull her close. I don’t. I let her come to me. “Let it all go, darlin’ . . .”

She transforms into a siren. She’s naked in seconds and drapes her body across me, her ass sliding across my crotch. The tempo picks up, and she pumps her body like she’s riding me. Then she sits down on my lap again and arches her back so much I’m afraid it might snap. I dig my nails into the side of my thighs to keep from touching her. My erection pokes her backside. She wraps her arms around my neck, still facing away from me, and I think it’s the most carnal thing a woman has ever done to me. I’m sweating, stifling those animal urges. I’m going to do her doggie-style tonight. If she keeps wagging that little ass in front of me, I’ll bite it. She flips around, then straddles me.

Another song comes on and she keeps dancing. Nothing is real time with this girl. I keep expecting to hear some Hollywood director yell
cut.
Instead, we’re interrupted by Craig. He’s standing in front of us, his Maglite shining in my face.

“What the fuck?” I growl.

“Come on, Robyn,” he says. “You’re dancing too close to the customer.”

Robyn stops moving. I can’t see her face, but she’s rigid as stone. I hold my hand over my eyes to block the light.
Goddamnit.
I grab ahold of Robyn’s hips and gently set her aside. I stand. Craig and I are only a foot apart. He’s a couple of inches taller than me, but I have more muscle mass—and more to fight for.

“Is that all you got?” I point at his flashlight.

“Don’t be an idiot, Craig,” Robyn interjects. “Why are you doing this?”

I hold my hand up. “Go to the dressing room, baby.”

Craig sheathes his flashlight and squares his shoulders. I look back at Robyn, who’s staring at him. “Go on,” I repeat. She throws me a caustic look. I understand her frustration. She sighs and grabs her clothes off the table. After piercing Craig with another
go to hell
look, she leaves.

“What’s your fucking problem?” I’m two seconds away from dropping this asshole.

“Don’t touch her again.”

“I’ll do better than that,” I snarl.

Craig takes a step toward me and I’m on him. I grab his shirt and yank him close. We’re nose to nose. “Maybe I’ll help you understand why the lady doesn’t want you following her around anymore.”

He shoves. We crash into a table and chairs. I regain my balance and pile-drive him against the wall. I’ve got two fistfuls of his pullover, and he grabs ahold of my hands. My knuckles go white. “If you ever touch her again . . .” I’m all over his shit. “I’ll kill you. Understand?”

Hatred clouds his eyes. “Let go.” He tries to wrestle free. I hold on tighter.

“We’re not doing this tonight,” I say calmly. “Not here. If you want a piece of me, name the time and place. Leave Robyn and the club out of it.” I let go.

He straightens his clothes. I know the customers and dancers are watching. The last thing I need to do is get into a fight with Craig before I work my first shift. He’s out of control—roid rage or something. He continues to stare me down. I smile evilly, unaffected. Ignoring him, I set the table upright and arrange the chairs so it looks like nothing happened. I salute the cowboys across the aisle and smile at the girls. “Evenin’.” I casually walk out.

Chapter Nine

Silence is a mood killer. And that’s what I get when Robyn meets me outside the club to go home. “Look at me.” I cradle her chin.

“I thought maybe you’d talk some sense into him.” She avoids my eyes. “Not get into a fight.”

“Darlin’ . . .” Copious amounts of testosterone pump through my veins. “We didn’t go to blows. But someone needed to put him in check. What kind of a man do you think I am?”

My question earns me a shattered look. “I don’t know,” she answers. “Apparently the kind that takes things for granted.”

I grimace. “For granted?” I repeat, offended. The girl must know how I feel—how she feels. This has already bypassed simple hormones. “I’m not feral. I know when to hold back, and I know when to throw a punch. If we’re going to do this,” I gesture between us, “you need to trust me.”

Those big blue eyes are searching my face. “I want to, Garrick. Really, I do.” She’s nervous. “I’m not used to someone taking over for me. I’ve dealt with assholes like Craig for a long time now.”

“Under normal circumstances I bet you can handle it,” I say. “But that guy . . .” I grimace. “He’s another breed altogether.” She couldn’t possibly disagree.

She stares anywhere but my direction now. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to be alone tonight.”

It feels like someone hit me in the chest with a sledgehammer. The Texas boy in me wants to throw her over my shoulder. In the time I’ve known her, this girl has demonstrated nothing but strength. If she needs space, I’m man enough to give it to her. But, I’m not the kind of man to let her face these problems alone. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I lean in and give her a brief kiss.

She’s rooted in place. And I force myself to walk away and get in my truck. As I back out, she’s leaning against her car. I look over my shoulder and check the entrance to the club. No Craig. I punch the gas, determined to follow through. But I don’t like it.

I drive around the corner of the convenience store next door to the club and throw my truck in park. I get out and walk a few feet so I can see Robyn. She’s still there. I’ll wait until she drives away to go home.

I wait until Garrick leaves to get in my car. I turn right on South Padre Island Drive. I’m going to the pier. I don’t understand why Garrick dismissed me so abruptly. I’m capable of handling Craig. I don’t want my life—my job—complicated. I’m most definitely a creature of habit. I get up at the same time every morning, eat the same breakfast, and watch the same news . . . Change is uncomfortable.

The parking lot is empty. I grab my backpack and walk briskly toward the office. Franco is inside. I tap on the glass. He turns and smiles. The door opens, and I step inside. There’s a cast on his left arm. I’m afraid to ask.

“What happened?”

“Carlos,” he answers. His smile fades.

“Is that his name?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry he chased you. You’re no threat; you didn’t see anything. I’m not even sure what you overheard. I think it’s a cat-and-mouse thing for him. He’s a maniacal bastard, likes to scare the shit out of people.”

Fear flickers in his eyes. “Why did he hurt you?” I ask, though I know I shouldn’t probe.

Franco kicks a piece of wadded paper across the floor. “My job doesn’t pay well enough . . . I have a third kid on the way . . .”

I nod; he doesn’t need to finish. To make ends meet, he sells drugs. I hate seeing good people reduced to nothing. “Can you find another job?”

He flings himself into his chair. “I’ve tried.”

“The club is always hiring. With your managerial experience . . .”

“My wife would kill me.”

I smile. Most women would kill their husbands for going near the front door of the Devil’s Den. I dig in my backpack and pull out one of the fifties Garrick gave me. “Take it. I know it isn’t much.”

He makes an exasperated sound. I’ve hurt his pride. But pride doesn’t buy diapers and baby formula. “Consider it a loan.”

He nods and takes the money.

“Am I still allowed to come to the pier after hours?”

“I’ll give you a key,” he jokes.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” I say. “I was worried.” I turn to go.

“Robyn . . .”

“Yeah?” I look at him again.

“Carlos doesn’t know how to back off. He’s still pissed about the whole thing. Watch your back. If I hear anything, I’ll leave a message for you at the club.”

His concern touches my heart. I walk around the desk, then kiss his cheek. “Don’t do anything if it puts you or your family in danger.” I mean it. I’ve faced guys a hundred times more dangerous than Carlos. I open the door and go outside.

The wind whips my hair, and it feels good. I walk slowly to the end of the dock and spread my towel over my favorite bench. The lights are all working. I pull a copy of Shakespeare’s
Taming of the Shrew
from my backpack. I loved Elizabeth Taylor in the movie. She reminded me of me. I smile. I’m sure Garrick would agree. I’m stubborn. Set in my ways. I’ve never relied on anyone. Couldn’t. My own mother hates me. Marisela thinks our mother is jealous. I know the difference—some women just can’t love their offspring. I push those thoughts out of my mind.

I have nothing to complain about. I’m employed, in school, I have a roof over my head, and now I have . . . Garrick . . . My stomach groans.
What. Have. I. Done.
I retrieve my phone, but the battery is nearly dead and there’s no reception. Of course there isn’t. But I know where he lives because he stored all his information in my phone. There’s enough juice left for me to look at my address directory. But I don’t want to intrude. I don’t like people showing up unannounced (except Macey). His sister lives with him. What would she say? I kick it around inside my head a few times. I’m growing desperate. I want to apologize and make love. I’ve never felt this way before.

I run to my car. He lives off Weber, only a few streets away from me. I jump in, turn the key, and peel out of the parking lot. I do eighty-five all the way back to Corpus. I turn off Weber onto his street. All the houses on this block are well lit and have meticulously manicured lawns. I see a set of bushes trimmed into the shape of swans. I roll my eyes. As if there’s nothing more important to spend your money on. I’m watching for house numbers. Come on, 1847 . . . I find it. I parallel park and get out of my car.

I stand at the end of the driveway. His house is beautiful. The façade reminds me of Tara from
Gone with the Wind.
Six colonnades stretch across the front of the two-story white brick house. There’s a cobblestone walkway leading to the front door surrounded by gardens. I quietly make my way to the door. But not before I notice the Lexus and Corvette in the driveway. Garrick’s truck is parked on the street side. I’m staring at the doorbell now. I nervously peek at my watch. Three thirty is way too late to ring it. In fact, I shouldn’t be here at all. Fear takes over and I turn to go. The front door opens and I freeze.

“Robyn?”

I melt. It’s Garrick. I drop my backpack and run into his arms. It feels like I haven’t seen him in a year.

He’s all over me. “Did something happen, baby?” he whispers into my hair.

“No . . . I’m . . . stupid. I’m sorry.” I stare past him. “I need to be near you—with you. I don’t know how you do it, but whenever you’re around, the world is a better place.” Did I say too much? Am I getting too clingy too fast? I hope not.

He breaks away and grabs my backpack. “Go inside,” he directs.

I cross the threshold and don’t bother looking around. My eyes are glued on him. Butterflies descend again; my belly is a fucking mess. He closes the door and stares at me. There’s a hint of urgency in those eyes. Then we collide. He sweeps me off my feet and carries me upstairs. It’s dark. I can’t see anything. He walks down a long hallway and turns right. I see a light. He carries me inside his bedroom and I notice the massive bed that he drops me on. He’s wearing only pajama bottoms. Garrick shuts the bedroom door and rushes back to the bed.

He doesn’t say anything. My halter top is off in seconds and so are my shorts. He’s between my legs, working my panties off with his teeth. One side at a time. I’m helpless—completely dick-whipped. I moan, propping myself up so I can watch him. He throws my underwear on the floor and turns back. My snatch is on fire. My legs are like jelly. He slips out of his bottoms like Houdini does handcuffs. My legs are wide open and he crawls between them, watching my eyes the whole time. I want to look at his body, but that face sucks me in. I can’t get enough of him.