All the Way (7 page)

“Nothing.”

When he came up behind her, she felt the heat of his hard chest against her back.
Open palms coasted up her bare arms. Fingertips traced the thin straps of her tank top.
“Nothing?” he whispered close to her ear…too close.

She jerked away. “
Nothing
.”

An arrogant snort preceded his comeback. “That’s not the impression you gave me last night—
twice
.”

A blush singed the tips of her ears. “I’m not going anywhere with you on a motorcycle.”

“We have to take the Harley. How else do you expect us to wind our way through the bike-packed streets of Sturgis looking for Rob?”

“Ever heard of walking?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “How’s it going to look trailing a biker gang on foot?”

Pretty stupid.
And pointless
.
“Well, then…we’ll stuff the bike into your SUV and drive it to Sturgis.”

“There’s no way my Jeep will fit a motorcycle, even with the backseat down. And it definitely won’t fit two bikes and three passengers when Rob comes back with us.”

Dang
.
Layla had run out of alternatives. She grasped for excuses. “I can’t afford to call off work that long, to ride a motorcycle there and back.”

“The way I see it, for your brother’s sake, you can’t afford not to.”

“Look, Blake.” She turned, hands on her hips. “All the Cleveland Heights cops drop by the diner for coffee breaks, and I serve them. They’ll start to wonder after ten days. But they can’t find out about Robby’s disappearance. If word spreads, he’ll get busted for violating his probation. He’s this close to freedom. I can’t risk it.”

“Layla, the cops are the least of your problems.”
His voice hardened, deadly serious. “Do you know what goes on in biker gangs?” She shook her head. “I didn’t think so. Drugs, violence, murder—you name it.”

Layla paled. “Robby wouldn’t get wrapped up in that,” she said, the quaver in her voice betraying her fear.

“They got him to run off to a bike rally.
You’re fooling yourself if you think they’ll let him go, just like that.”

“You’re just trying to scare me.”
Her lips trembled.

“Yes.
I am.”

Angry tears filled the corners of her eyes.
“Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t think you realize how serious this is.
If you did, you wouldn’t hesitate to hop on my motorcycle and head out of town as fast as possible.”

“Remember last year when you refused to let me go with you to find Robby? What’s so different now?”

He leveled her with his gaze. “Remember the way Dan Green cornered and accosted you at the bar last night? When I found Robby last year, he was playing with his band at the Handle Bar. I kept you out of the search to protect you.”

That stopped her tirade. “Really?”

“Yes. Satisfied?”

“Hardly.” More informed maybe, but not satisfied. Why hadn’t he told her that before? The sudden revelation of his caring side—when she had pinned him as a thoughtless jerk—confused her, pushing her irritation to new heights.

She wanted to throw him out. Instead, she reached for a pillow off her bed and let it fly. He ducked. It met the wall and fell with a soft thump. In the next blink, Blake had her pinned between his hard body and her bedroom wall, one hand flattened beside her head, his other hand firmly cupping her chin.
The man could move.

“Listen to me, Layla—”

“Back off.”

“I’m getting your attention,” he said.
“Seems the only time you
hear me out
is when I’m pressed against you.”
His lips formed a tight smile.
“That has its advantages.”

“Tell me that from across the room, and I’ll decide whether or not to listen.”

“Tell me you’ll rethink this.”

As if thinking were an option with his mouth so close to hers. Lightning-bright desire flashed through her, and her heart pounded like peals of thunder. Resentment rippled through her in the aftermath.
“Stand back.”

“If you come with me to Sturgis.”

“No problem,” she said sarcastically. He dropped his hand and stepped away.
“But you’re forgetting one thing.
I don’t ride
.”
She whipped around and flounced down the stairs. “This
discussion is over.”

Oh, no it’s not, Layla.
We haven’t even started
.
Blake was at her heels, his eyes blazing as they followed her descent.

But he broke the pursuit mid-stride
in her living room.
This argument could go on for days—years, knowing them.
Unless he threw out one well-timed comment.
“Layla, what are you so afraid of?”

She froze rounding the corner.
His aim had been true.

“Nothing,” she shot back, but the second syllable sounded watery, as though she was battling emotions she wanted to keep hidden. Hands at
his
waist, he waited.
Her voice sounded small echoing off the tile floor as she entered the kitchen. “Go away, Blake. I don’t want your help.
I don’t need you
.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. To his dismay the feeling traveled upward, a straight shot to the center of his chest. The spot under his ribs felt empty, like something had been ripped out of him, and he stumbled back a step.

Numb, he turned, headed for the door. But when his fingers curved around the metal handle he couldn’t make himself do it. He couldn’t leave.

He had never been able to turn away from her.

Layla would always be the one who walked away first.

Even that night on her porch—while Jack barred the door, Rob and Layla upstairs screaming at each other as doors slammed—Blake hadn’t walked away.
Even when Johnson tore Blake’s heart out and dangled it in front of his face, Blake hadn’t walked away. But Jack had the advantage.

Blake’s chest clenched with the memory.
If he’d stayed, Officer Jack Johnson would’ve promptly called Rob’s juvie officer to tell him Rob had broken curfew, a direct violation of his probation. Jack swore he’d make up more lies, and Rob would end up in some detention center. Or,
Blake could take a hike, back off for a while, and
take his chances that she would forgive him that choice, for turning his back on her.

He’d had no idea how deep Jack’s vendetta ran against him until that night.
Countless times Blake had come close to nailing Jack for the unspeakable crime he committed against the Desanto family. And this was Jack’s version of payback, because Jack could see how much Layla meant to Blake.

The bastard had backed him into a corner. He’d decided to let things settle down, leaving for his annual trip to Sturgis.
When he returned two weeks later, there were no messages from Layla. It was the worst feeling, realizing he shouldn’t have left, that no blackmail threat had been worth losing her.

Between last night and today, he and Layla had exchanged more words, touches and kisses than they had in the year they’d been separated.

And he still wanted her. He still couldn’t walk away.

He hated that vulnerability, that influence she had over him. It made him want to do things like pull her into his arms when he should push her away, and brave the minefield of their past to keep her safe as they looked for her brother. It made him want to know what she was so afraid of, what he could do to help. Feeling seeped back into his chest, undermining his struggle for indifference.

She ruined me for every other woman but her.
His fingers slipped off the door handle
in resignation.
And she doesn’t even have a clue
.

His boots sank into the carpeting as he treaded toward her kitchen. Shrugging out of his jacket, he draped it over a dining room chair and propped one shoulder against the open archway that separated the two rooms.

“Talk to me,” he said with quiet intensity.
“I won’t go anywhere until you do.”

Layla’s spine snapped straight at the sound of his voice behind her. She’d expected him to disappear again. For once, he’d acted opposite her expectations. The one time she wished he hadn’t.

She was tempted to send him to Sturgis alone.
She’d catch a bus there by herself.

But then Rob would know she’d refused to ride with Blake. Rob might suspect her angst over motorcycles—his passion. Rob had already accused her of not understanding him. Their tentative relationship might snap under the weight of another
disparity.

Her brother’s opinion of her meant everything, and she’d tried to understand him.
But who could understand a teenager?

Blake understands him perfectly
, her mind mocked.
No wonder Rob turns to him instead of you
.

Drawing out the silence, Layla tested the soil in an aloe plant propped on the window ledge above her sink. It was as dry and inhospitable as the Black Hills where her brother was heading. While she stood in her kitchen, ignoring Blake—the only hope in this whole scenario—something awful could be happening to her brother.

Layla couldn’t let Robby down. She couldn’t risk his record to avoid her fears, just because she didn’t have the spine to ride a motorcycle to South Dakota.

“We have to get him back here in ten days, Blake. Or it’ll be for nothing.”

“We can do it.”

She wished she shared his certainty. “How do you know for sure?”

“Nothing comes with a guarantee. We’ll do the best we can. Together.”

Layla needed one more reassurance. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Turning to face him, she met the intense gaze trained on her. A small jolt of awareness
followed. She cleared her throat. “Please don’t say anything to Rob about last night.”

“Which part?” he asked, with a small tilt to his lips.

“All of it.”

“Your secrets are safe with me.” He winked.

“Especially the part about when you found me on the road. I don’t want him to know about that.”

“Layla,
I
don’t even know what happened.
Much as I’d like to.”

“Just promise you won’t bring it up, and…I’ll go to Sturgis with you.”

“You’ll let me take you all the way—on my motorcycle.” His expression looked suspicious, like he was biting his cheeks to staunch a grin.

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes,
all the way
, Mr. Everything’s A Sexual Innuendo.”

“And you won’t complain the entire time?”

“Scouts honor.” She held up two fingers.

Blake shoved away from the partition and approached. Layla backed up until she arched against the sink rim.

“Wrong number,” he murmured. Reaching for her hand, he straightened three of her fingers, instead of two. “There, much more believable…
girl
scout,” he drawled.

The heat in her eyes evaporated. “Always have to have one up on me, don’t you?”

“Offering to put me in me my place, girl scout?”

“I’m offering a swift kick in the pants.”

“Do you know how sexy you are when you act all tough?”

She started toward him. His eyes widened in mock fear. He ran out of the kitchen, swiped up his coat and headed for the front door, Layla hot on his trail.

“The bike’s safe,” he hollered, as he flew out the door and swung a long leg over the black seat.

Layla skidded to a halt. “I just wish you were safe,” she said, catching her breath.
“Promise me. No driving each other crazy on this motorcycle, got it?”

“I don’t know,” he said rubbing his jaw in speculation. “Think you can resist the temptation? You will be riding all the way there with me
and
my libido.”

“Can’t you leave that at home? Just this once?”

“Don’t think so. It’s especially partial to you.”

“Great,” she groaned. “Then promise me you won’t bring that lasso you threatened me with last night.” Her eyes sparkled with humor.

Something caught in Blake’s chest. When Layla smiled like this, totally candid, as if any moment she might burst into unrestrained laughter, he turned cartwheels inside.

It was a feeling he’d never experienced with anyone else.
She had something different, something more. Some things in life you just knew. Like the day he met her, he just
knew
she was special.

Blake shook his head at himself. That was a long time ago. A lot had happened since that day.
Too much.

He adopted a careless expression. “Think you can throw your stuff together in a hurry?
Remember to pack light. Not much trunk space on a Harley.”