Dare To Love Series: Icy Dare (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  The stranger’s hard body brushed against hers as she backed from the hook she’d left her coat on when she’d arrived.

  “You have no idea how much I long to touch you.” His breath, warm with a hint of alcohol, skimmed the nape of her neck. “How I want to secure you to my bed, but it isn’t going to change that fact I’m taking you to Miami.”

  Like hell. She headed to the door, determinedly avoiding any more thoughts on how he’d said secure in terms of her and a bed.

  “Out,” she ordered.

  “I like in better.” His tone reminded her of warm cognac trailing down her throat, warming her from the inside out.

  She nearly clamped her legs together to stop the pulsing of her clit. “Then, get in the cold.” Her teeth chattered as the brutal winds and rain blew.

  She locked the door and shoved her hands in her pockets after yanking on her coat. Her pain should be a distraction tonight. And, right on cue, he walked into view.

  “Evening, Carla.”

  “Josh,” she replied. The local man had taken to showing up after her shift with the insane and crazed idea they would be wonderful together. One day, I’ll find a place where the weirdos leave me alone.

  The stranger shifted in front of her, blocking Josh. “Leave her alone.” The words were rumbled.

  “Carla’s my woman. I protect her. She’s going to be my wife.”

  Well, that’s new. She bit her tongue, not wanting the attention on her.

  “Find a new one.”

  Two more walked into view. Josh’s brothers. They may not understand his infatuation with the chunky black woman who worked in the bar, but they would back him for anything.

  “You should take my brother’s advice, stranger, and walk away.”

  The energy coming off her self-appointed protector changed. Harsh, coiled, deadly. This time, it was more than cold which had her shivering.

  Jacob, the eldest, swung a bat. Josh, the youngest, had his typical chain, and the middle one, Jonathon, had brass knuckles.

  Unsure of what set them off, she flinched when they all jumped at once. And she slipped away—her conscience yelling in severe disapproval on how she left the stranger there. To face three assailants.

  “He seemed capable,” she said as she hurried to her tiny shithole of an apartment.

  Only once she was secure inside her place did she relax. She tossed her coat on the twin bed and lifted it enough to remove the panel beneath the leg. She pulled out her money and counted it. Five thousand.

  She grabbed her backpack and pulled out her map of the States as she sat on the mattress. Unfolding it, she gazed at her options.

  “Best I stick to establishments that don’t want to do taxes on me and will pay cash.” She had a pretty good knack for locating places like that. With a sigh, she packed up her meager belongings.

  “I hate this life.” She got ready for bed, set her alarm, and crawled between the sheets.

  Cold metal around her wrist woke her. Her watch had a cloth strap as metal attracted attention. With her luck typically unwanted. Exhausted, she struggled to figure out the reason for the metal.

  She began to turn, only to find herself against a hard male body. Panic surged, and she struggled.

  “Did you really think three men would stop me?”

  Recognition sank in. “You! What the… How the… Get out of my bed. How dare you break in here?”

  Anger lent her strength, and her shove rolled him off the narrow bed. Her satisfactory smirk lasted mere seconds before she was jerked off to land on him. And, yet, not chest to chest. No, her luck was such that her face sat buried in his crotch. His cock stiffened against her lips as she sputtered. Her right hand was stretched away from her body, and her shoulder screamed in agony.

  It clicked in her head as to why. Handcuffs.

  “You cuffed me?” Her tone dangerously low. “Cuffed me?”

  As if she weighed nothing, he drew her up his body, easing the pain in her joint.

  “Yes.”

  Non-apologetic. Steadfast.

  His hand—the one she wasn’t cuffed to—settled against her ass and flexed.

  Damn her traitorous insides that were all for being locked to him. “Uncuff me.”

  “No.”

  His cock was hard and pressed against her core. She nearly rocked herself against him.

  “We’re going to have a very ugly relationship, this way.”

  “I’ll uncuff you when we get to Miami.”

  “I’m not going there.”

  His chuckle blew warm air along her hypersensitive skin. “That’s what you think. I’m like a bounty hunter. Since you’re not the one who hired me, I’m bringing you back.”

  Her leg jerked as she tried to knee him. Bastard must have been expecting her move and blocked her before rolling them. She lay pinned beneath him, her legs wide and cradling him.

  Late morning sun filtered through the window and graced his features. Almost with hesitation. He wasn’t a pretty man. Hard. Chiseled.

  Drool worthy. The man over her was no boy.

  “You really think you can drag me all the way across the country?”

  “That’s what I was hired to do.”

  “I dare you.” She forced it between clenched teeth.

  “I accept.” His grin was akin to a teasing flick along her clit.

  Hell, she was in trouble.

  Chapter Two

  Dorian had it bad for the woman beneath him. She wasn’t cowering or crying. Quite the opposite, she was pissed. Anger flashed in her brown eyes. Tyler had said to go easy. Dorian hadn’t. Still, this woman, who was running from someone, stood toe to toe with him. Or lay chest to chest with me.

  There was no denying the lush curves beneath him, and his body responded eagerly. He rose up, saving her from his weight. Sparks danced in her eyes—eyes that weren’t plain brown but mouthwatering chocolate.

  Go easy.

  Again, Tyler’s words echoed in Dorian’s mind. He had no wish to go easy. Hard. Fast. And against any surface he could use.

  This woman didn’t have the fear he would have expected. Then again—when someone was being pursued, he would expect them to seek or accept help. She had done quite the opposite. Avoiding her brother. Going so far as to drop off the grid. That’s why it had taken Dorian the time it had to locate her. She was damn good at hiding. She worked for cash and had no credit cards to speak of. Not what he’d expected.

  Her knee swiped dangerously to his cock, and he glanced down at her.

  “You really need to stop that.”

  “Fuck you,” she snapped.

  He grinned, enjoying her sass and the spark it gave him. “We could.” His smile fell away. “I’m still taking you to Miami.”

  Defiance swelled in her gaze before fading away. She shrugged as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Do I call you asshole or do you go by a secret identity that hides this personality?”

  “You can call me Dorian.”

  She grunted, shifting beneath him and, again, reminding him how long he’d been abstinent.

  “Feel free to get off me.”

  Her icy tone had him smiling once more.

  “That implies it’s my decision if I move or not.”

  “Maybe.” Her reply curt.

  Conscious of her being attached to him, he rose cautiously and lifted her to her feet, as well. His cock pushed hard against the rough fabric of his jeans. On one hand, he was thrilled to be commando for it meant there was no choking from boxers or briefs. Yet, on the other hand, it was one less layer of clothing between them.

  Her scowl remained in place. He winked, and her frown increased.

  “We need to go.”

  “Uncuff me.”

  He headed to the couch, brought up short when her lack of motion resulted in his arm being yanked.

  “Not happening. I was hired to bring you back to Miami. That’s what I’ll do.”

  He expected more argument from her. All sh
e did was narrow her eyes and set her mouth. Dorian leaned closer, his inhalation close enough it carried her scent to him. Nothing floral or warm but a cool, almost sharp, smell.

  “I want no trouble from you.”

  She didn’t speak, just walked away, tugging on him, her glare nothing but hostile when she halted before the bathroom. “Uncuff me.”

  He did and smiled again when she slammed the door in his face. His smile dropped away the moment he heard the shower kick on.

  She’s got nothing in there except that tatty bag.

  Shit. She was running.

  He tried the knob. Locked. He pounded. “Sakharre.” Nothing. “Damn you.” He put his shoulder to the door, pushing in. Dorian spied the open window and headed in that direction when he tripped and fell forward.

  Reflexes saved him from cracking his skull on the heavy porcelain sink. Curses poured from his mouth as he hit the floor—a floor she’d spread baby oil all over.

  “I’m never uncuffing her again,” he ground out, trying unsuccessfully to get up.

  He managed to make it to his feet and carefully peered out the window. No sign of her and no indication of which direction she’d left in.

  “Fuck.”

  He reached into her shower and shut it off. Back in the main room, he ignored the baby oil running off his clothing and skin while he tried to lock down where she would be heading.

  Thirty minutes later, his mood had soured completely, and he was envisioning ways of making her pay. Yes, it was his own fault, technically, for he’d severely underestimated her.

  There was nothing in her place of a personal nature. Not a single piece of mail. No magazines showing what she enjoyed reading. Nothing.

  He’d checked and found no credit card activity. Hell, not even an electric bill or any utility for the past twenty-one months. She’d dropped off the grid.

  How the hell does someone not leave a digital footprint, anymore?

  He went to the kitchen and checked there, wincing at the pain radiating from his wrist. Barely the necessities. The plates and bowls were mismatched and cracked. Thrift stores wouldn’t want them. In fact, most of this stuff looked donated.

  He sat and withdrew his phone. She didn’t have a car, so she’d most likely walked from the store she’d gotten them from. Locating the nearest thrift shop, he left her place and headed for it, ignoring both the cold and odd looks he received.

  Like they’ve never seen a man dripping baby oil walking down the streets in this cold ass weather. Perhaps they hadn’t.

  His plans of finding her and flying back to Miami had just been nixed. There was no way he’d get her through the airport cuffed to him. Not a chance.

  Entering the thrift shop, he immediately canvassed for the exits. Habit. A young man with stringy hair looked up at him before dropping his gaze. Dorian didn’t pay him much mind, just wandered the aisles, occasionally pausing to look at an item.

  A couple people came and went before he grabbed some pots and pans. After Dorian set them on the counter, the boy lifted his head and gave a small nod.

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope. Wondering if you know Carla, though. I’m getting these for her, but she’s not at home, and I was curious if you know of where else she may be?”

  He blinked, and Dorian stared at him, doing his best to appear unthreatening. The youngster moved his lips, the rings in them flashing in the brilliant overhead lights.

  “Sometimes, she’s at the lake; she goes there to think. But, in this cold, not sure she would.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll just wait until she returns.” He dug for some money and paid for the items, waited while they were bagged and left. “Thanks for your help.”

  He gave them to someone else in the building then headed for the lake. The wind had picked up and howled around him with biting force. He longed to change into something dry but knew he had to find her before she got any more of a lead on him. The lake came up empty, and he swung by his hotel room on his way to the bus station.

  The incoming storm brought darkness early, and the building shook from the nearing booms of thunder. He kept to the shadows as he searched. People kept to themselves as they waited. When the announcement came to board, he watched with a sharp eye.

  A woman in a hoodie and a bag over her shoulder moved onto the bus. The hoodie was familiar, but the bag wasn’t, and he frowned. She never looked back, just propelled her way on to the bus and vanished inside the vehicle.

  Dorian scanned the station again and watched another woman head into the restroom. That bag he recognized. Do I get on this bus or take the chance that she gave her hoodie to someone and is waiting for another ride? If it were him, he would give it to someone and see if anyone was following him.

  He made note of where the bus was heading and walked to the entrance of the women’s restroom. Leaning against the wall, he waited. One woman went in, and he nodded at her. The bus pulled out, and the back of his neck prickled. He waited, and she passed him.

  Quick as a snake, he clicked the cuff on her wrist, securing them together, then spun her back to the wall and, with their latched hands between them, stared into her eyes. Her gaze went from surprise to resignation.

  “You have an evil streak in you, woman. Baby oil?” He lowered his head until they were nose to nose. “I could have hurt myself.”

  “Shame you didn’t.”

  “I’m not uncuffing you, again. Come on, we’re getting tickets for a bus to Miami.”

  People walked by them, and he kept pressed close to her, shielding the cuffs all the while, making it appear as if they were making out.

  “Kiss me,” he murmured, claiming her mouth.

  Her lips, which had been flattened tight, slowly relaxed as he applied gentle pressure. The pain in his wrist, the exhaustion he’d had before finding her once more, vanished. Her taste flooded him, and he groaned low in his throat, stepping closer, allowing their bodies to touch more.

  “I hate you,” she growled, shoving against his chest.

  “I’m not here for you to like, babe. I’m here to do a job.”

  “It’s going to be a long trip back to Miami for you, then.”

  He gripped her chin in his hands, ignoring the demand of his libido that he make damn good use of the wall before him. “Why?”

  “You’ll not be able to sleep. I will fight you every step of the way, and if you slip for one second, I’ll be gone.”

  He dipped his mouth to brush hers again, the electricity snapping through him. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep that in mind. Now, let’s get some tickets for Florida.”

  “What, no car?”

  “I’m not giving you the chance of crashing us.” He slid his cheek against hers. “We’re taking the bus. What the hell were you thinking with the baby oil?”

  “Saw it in a movie, looked as if it would do the trick. Going to make bathroom breaks difficult, wouldn’t you say? How do you plan on keeping me cuffed to you on the bus? You can’t come in with me. Nor can I go in with you.”

  “Then, it’s a good thing you’ve gone, now. I’d advise not to drink anything on the way back. Let’s go.” He put their hands inside his jacket to hide the cuffs and walked up to the ticket counter.

  “We need two tickets to Miami.”

  The old lady looked at them and nodded. His arm jerked as Sakharre collapsed on the floor, body convulsing. He swore as the place erupted in chaos over her actions. He had to uncuff her when the EMTs arrived in a very short time.

  “I’m riding with her,” he dictated.

  “Sorry, sir,” one man said as they rushed the stretcher toward the waiting ambulance. “You can’t be with her.”

  “I’m not leaving her. She’s faking.”

  Both men glared at him. “No way,” one said. “Move.”

  They put her in and shut the door.

  “Where are you taking her?” he hollered as they headed for their doors. Why isn’t one riding
in back with her?

  “Glendell Memorial.”

  Christ, this woman is more trouble than she’s worth. And, yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about the press of her lips to his.

  He pointed at a cop. “Take me.”

  The young man nodded, and they hurried to his car. The ambulance had already left, and he didn’t like the implications of that.

  “How far away is Glendell Memorial?” he asked.

  “Glendell Memorial?” The man eased up on the gas and looked in his direction.

  “Yes, that’s where they said they were taking her. How far is it?”

  “We don’t have a Glendell Memorial.”

  His heart plummeted as anger surged. The officer spoke in his radio, putting out an APB on the ambulance.

  Dorian scowled when they pulled up to the police station. “Shouldn’t we be out looking for them?”

  “We have a few questions to ask you first. Namely, why was she handcuffed to you?”

  He ran a hand over his head and sighed. The sooner he got through this, the sooner he could locate her. Now, more than just annoyance nipped between his shoulder blades. Concern raged. Someone else had her, and the clock was running out.

  αβ

  Her limbs were uncooperative, heavy, and painful. So was her chest, lungs laboring mightily to merely rise and fall. She struggled to lick her lips, only to finally give up at the monumental task.

  Dank, stale air filtered slowly past her nostrils. Made her think the struggle to breathe may not be as important as she’d originally believed. Survival instincts kicked in, and she worked her fingers, sliding her wrists in a feeble attempt to loosen the bindings.

  This is because I was so focused on the one wanting to haul me back to Miami I didn’t think about anyone else. Damn it!

  Her body tensed as fear sank into her bones. Was it Clay who’d caught up with her? How had he found her and so quickly? Was he working with Clay? Him, Dorian? No, she didn’t think so.

  As she moved her fingers, she attempted to make sense out of how this happened. She’d been in the restroom before going to purchase a ticket. There had only been one other woman in there, and they’d brushed into each other. She must have injected me with something, or did something. When she’d run back into Dorian, her heart had kicked up, and pulse pounding, she’d begun to feel a bit off. After the kiss that rocketed her heart rate and breathing into the stratosphere, it had hit her even more. Then, her world had gone black. She couldn’t recall anything until now.