Dare to Surrender Page 2
Besides, Gabe always had an elegant woman on his arm, a different one each time. He could have any beautiful female he desired. Why would he choose me? Even Lance, who I’d been with for what felt like a lifetime, liked ownership, not me. And let’s face it, my parents hadn’t wanted me either. So believing in myself wasn’t my strong suit.
“So. What are you in for?” Gabe settled in his brother’s chair, propping an elbow on the cluttered desk so he could lean closer. “Prostitution?”
“Excuse me?” I choked out. “You know I’m not a hooker!” I said, offended, the whispers I’d heard when Lance and I had first gotten together rushing back.
Gold digger and mistress were among the chosen words, never mind that Lance’s single-minded pursuit had broken down every one of my defenses.
Gabe chuckled, assuring me he’d been joking. “Seriously, you dress down as well as you dress up.” His gaze raked over me, hot approval in the inky depths, appreciating me in a way Lance never had.
My insides trembled at the overwhelming effect this man had on me. “Where’s the cop with my money?” I asked, glancing around.
“Worried about your stash?” Gabe drummed his fingers on the desk. “Are you sure you’re not a hooker?” he mused.
I didn’t want to grin, but I did. “Why are you so desperate to think I am? Are you a pimp or something?”
He burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the walls of the quiet station. “Not quite,” he said, obviously amused.
The tread of his brother’s heavy footsteps announced his return.
Gabe looked at the other man with a disappointed expression. “Bro, didn’t anyone tell you you’re supposed to handcuff a lady to the headboard, not a desk?” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “It’s no wonder you can’t get any action.”
I ducked my head, trying not to laugh.
A flush highlighted the other man’s cheeks. “What are you doing here, and why are you bothering my suspect?”
Gabe tapped on his wristwatch. Gold. White face. Rolex. All my jewelry was in Lance’s safe, I realized, the thought making me sad. Not because I was materialistic but because some of the pieces, the few I’d chosen myself, I really had liked.
Gabe glanced at his brother. “Didn’t you say you were off at eleven? I thought we’d go check out the club I’m thinking of taking over.”
“Are you really looking for a new club? Or is this trip an excuse to find some new woman to warm your bed?”
His sibling doesn’t pull punches, I thought, glancing away, not wanting Gabe to see my reaction to the thought of any female in his bed.
“I’m still with Naomi.”
My stomach still twisted uncomfortably.
His brother frowned. “She’s a bitch.”
I cleared my throat, unwilling to sit here a minute longer and listen to details of Gabe’s love life. “Hello? Prisoner still here!” I reminded them with a wave of my free hand.
Gabe grinned at me.
I looked away, not wanting to acknowledge the utter rush of pleasure that small gesture brought me.
“What’s she in for?” he asked his brother.
“Grand theft auto, but her boyfriend dropped the charges.”
Gabe swore under his breath. “That son of a bitch had you arrested?”
I latched onto the latter part of his statement. “Lance dropped the charges?” Relief swamped me, and if I’d been standing, my knees might have given out.
“Charges dropped,” the cop restated. “As long as you agree to relinquish the car.”
My head whipped up. “That bastard.” He was still trying to control me. He knew I’d left with next to nothing, yet he still had to strip me of the one thing he knew I loved. Realistically, however, since I couldn’t afford to park my baby in the city, Lance had done me a favor.
“Deal,” I said to Gabe’s brother. “He can have the car.”
“I wasn’t negotiating,” the cop said.
“Decklan.” Gabe’s tone held a definite warning.
I didn’t need or want Gabe going to bat for me, and I ignored his hot—and I do mean hot—stare.
“Release me?” I jangled my chain.
Decklan—I now knew my jailer’s name—nodded. “Your boyfriend said he’d come down to get you so you two could talk out this … misunderstanding. In which case maybe you can keep the automobile.” He glanced at his watch. “He’ll be here in about thirty minutes, give or take.”
“Oh hell no.” I wasn’t going anywhere with Lance, and I certainly didn’t want the confrontation sure to come if he showed up. I jangled my cuffed wrist, suddenly desperate to escape. I had to get out of here now, and I needed a head start.
“Decklan! Unlock the damned cuffs,” Gabe barked at his brother in a baritone that ironically settled me.
His officer brother, however, jumped to do his bidding.
I shook out my hand and glanced down. A red stripe bruised my skin, and I rubbed my sore wrist.
Gabe’s gaze followed my every movement, his eyes darkening once more. With a low growl, he lifted my hand and stroked my marked flesh with his strong, tanned fingers. A sudden vision of him gripping me harder, pulling me roughly against him, grinding his muscular body into mine, took form, and I trembled, aroused by his tone, his sensual touch, and my torturous thoughts.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asked gruffly.
His voice returned me to my current location and predicament. “Yes. Fine.”
An intimate smile curved his lips, and I would swear he knew exactly how hot he’d made me, how wet.
Shaken by the thought and my impending reality, I grabbed my sweatshirt from the chair. “I’m free to go?” I asked, pulling on the light jacket.
“You are,” his brother said. “Stay out of trouble, Miss Masters.”
I would, I thought, once I escaped his brother. I held out my hand, and Decklan handed me back my money.
“Thanks,” I said and winced.
What was next? Gratitude for arresting me?
At least I hadn’t gotten as far as the booking process and mug shot. I ran a hand through my wild curls, suddenly aware of how I might look.
“See you guys around,” I said on a wave and a forced laugh.
“Wait!” Gabriel’s deep pitch almost had me melting toward him again.
“What?”
“Do you have someplace to go?” he asked, too kind for me not to be embarrassed, and I refused to look him in the eye.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Isabelle—” Gabe’s voice deepened.
“Oh no,” his brother said. “Absolutely not.”
“Shut up, Decklan.”
I narrowed my eyes, wondering what conclusion the cop had arrived at that I wasn’t privy to. My gaze swung back to Gabe, who merely nodded at his sibling, as if all had been decided.
“You’ll come home with me,” Gabe said, his tone definitive.
“What?” I hadn’t seen that coming, nor could I begin to process the words.
He braced one hand on the wall beside his brother’s desk. “You’ll come home with me. I have plenty of room, and you can stay till you get back on your feet.” His words sounded confident, sure, and obviously made sense, at least to him.
Panic spiraled through me at the thought of going from one controlling man to another.
“Are you insane?” Decklan asked. Loudly.
I nodded, agreeing with him. “Listen to your brother. I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re practically a stranger.”
Gabe frowned at that comment.
“And she’s a stray,” Decklan added.
“Hey!” I turned to him and scowled. “That’s just insulting.”
“You have a thing for strays,” Decklan said to Gabe, ignoring me. Giving me more reason than just my arrest to dislike Officer Decklan Dare.
“Shut the fuck up,” Gabe muttered, his jaw set as he glared at his brother.
Decklan had hit a hot button, I note
d, and wondered who the stray woman was to Gabe. What she’d meant to him.
I couldn’t afford to find out. “It’s been interesting,” I said on a rush. “Later, boys.”
And while the two brothers remained locked in a silent, combative stare, I turned and strode out of the station house without looking back.
Chapter Two
Isabelle: Into the Fire
I’d barely escaped the door of the police station and hit the night air when rain assaulted me, soaking through my clothes almost instantly.
I dove back beneath the awning, where it was dry. Plan, I thought. I needed a plan. I’d left my cell phone at Lance’s house, and even if I hadn’t, Lance would shut off my service as soon as he realized I wasn’t coming back.
I hadn’t yet made it into Manhattan, where a taxi would drive by, light on, waiting to be hailed, and I had no ride to the nearest bus or train. I ran a trembling hand through my damp hair, wondering why I’d bolted out of the station when I really had nowhere to go. Even if the rain miraculously stopped, I was all alone.
“Hey.”
I turned. Gabe had followed me outside. From the tips of his black shoes up the dark denim jeans that molded to his hard thighs and the white collared shirt open enough to reveal his tanned chest and dark hair, he looked delicious enough to eat. And I wanted a long, thorough taste. I might be panicked and needing to get out of here, but I couldn’t deny his appeal.
At the sight of him, a rush of relief washed over me, though I couldn’t say why. “You’re leaving alone? Did your brother decide the nightclub scene wasn’t for him?” I hugged my arms tighter around me. It might be summer, but I was growing colder and more chilled.
He studied me as if he knew exactly how uncomfortable I was, both in my clothes and with myself. He didn’t answer my question, merely waited for me to come around to the inevitable—I might not want to be beholden to him, but he was my only option.
I swallowed the little that was left of my pride and met his gaze. “Can you take me to the nearest bus station?” I asked through chattering teeth.
He shoved his hands into his front pants pockets. “So you can go where?”
I swallowed hard. “I’ll figure it out when I get away from here, and I need to do that before Lance arrives.” I stuck my head into the rain and looked up and down the quiet street, afraid the sound of a car motor would break the silence and ruin my escape.
Gabe grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back under the awning before spinning me around, turning me to face him. My terry cloth jacket hung open, and my nipples, hardened from cold, grew tighter beneath his hot stare. If I peeked, no doubt I would see them poking through my thin shirt.
He looked there, saw what I was too embarrassed to do more than imagine, and a vein throbbed in his temple.
“Let’s go.” He grasped my hand and steered me out into the rain, to the parking lot on the side of the building where a black Porsche 911 Turbo waited.
He unlocked the door, opened it for me, and helped me inside. To my surprise, he popped the front trunk and returned, covering me with a blanket before closing me inside the small car.
He strode around to the driver’s side, climbed in, and started the ignition before hitting a series of buttons, turning the heater on, including the one in my seat. I didn’t relax until he pulled away from the small police station, leaving any possibility of a confrontation with Lance behind.
I wrapped the quilted covering around me for warmth, and as more distance passed, it slowly dawned on me I was safe. The feeling was so at odds with my normal tense state I almost didn’t recognize it. I also understood a big part of that relief stemmed from being with Gabe, something I didn’t want to question too strongly at the moment.
Once on the highway heading back to Manhattan, Gabe broke the charged silence. “Is there anyone you want to call?”
I clutched the blanket more tightly. “I have old friends in the city, but I’m not sure they’re still living where they used to. It’s been a long time.” I stared out into the dark night.
“So that leaves you where?” he asked, the kindness in his voice reminding me he wasn’t just a stranger I was attracted to, he was a friend. Or could be.
I sighed heavily, hating myself even as the breathy sound escaped. “I don’t know. I left a bad situation without thinking things through.”
“That much is obvious.” One hand on the wheel, he drove with precision and confidence, turning his eyes from the road to face me for a moment. “But you did leave.” Satisfaction sounded in his tone. “What were your plans?”
I shivered, and he raised the temperature.
“I thought I’d find a cheap motel where I could hole up and think. Which I still can do since your brother returned my cash.”
Gabe set his jaw, much the same way his brother had when I’d said something to aggravate him. “You’re coming with me.”
I sighed, the sound heavy in the enclosed space. “It’s not smart, Gabe.” I didn’t need to elaborate on why.
He reached over and covered my hand with his. “Maybe not in the way you mean, but for my peace of mind? Your safety? It damn well is.”
I closed my eyes in acknowledgment. The sexual tension between us scared me, but that didn’t come close to more immediate fears. I wasn’t afraid of Lance tracking me down, but if I were honest with myself, the kind of rattrap I could afford in the city freaked me out.
I wasn’t stupid. Gabe was offering me a lifeline. I might not know him all that well, but the way he took control and his dark edge gave me a sense of security Lance never had, not at the beginning, middle, and especially not at the end of our relationship.
Okay, I thought to myself. Decision made. “I’ll go home with you. For now.”
His deep exhale told me my answer pleased him, and I liked having his approval. I narrowed my gaze, confused by the reaction and the warmth rolling through me.
“You won’t regret it,” he assured me.
A smile curved my lips. “That remains to be seen.”
His wry chuckle echoed around us.
He maneuvered the stick shift as if the car were a part of him, the high speed no match for the powerful man. Which made me wonder more about him.
“So what do you do for a living? Besides invest in nightclubs?” I asked.
“Various things.”
I rolled my eyes. “Such as?”
“I own hotels and nightclubs,” he said.
“It’s better than you being on Wall Street,” I mused.
“Technically, one of the hotels is on Madison, but I live off the East River.”
I whistled before I could stop myself. “Swanky address.”
“Decklan picked you up on your way from the Hamptons. Not so rough yourself,” he reminded me.
I swallowed hard. “That’s over.”
Yet here I sat, en route from one man’s cushy beach house to another’s deluxe apartment. I exhaled and said what I should have from the beginning. “Thank you for helping me out.”
“My pleasure, kitten.”
The term of endearment sent a rush of warmth skittering through me and a distinct pulsing between my thighs.
“Stay as long as you need.”
I shivered at the prospect of being alone with Gabe. I wished I knew how long I’d need to remain there, but the hard truth was, his generosity would help me get my head on straight and give me breathing room to make decisions about my future.
“If I stay, I need to earn my own way.” I was finished being kept by any man.
“So we’re back to prostitution after all?” he asked, laughing before I could take offense.
I blushed, my cheeks hot. “I just don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”
“I’m not kind,” he said, his severe words at odds with the lightness from seconds before. “But if you insist, we’ll work something out.”
I exhaled in relief. More relaxed now, I leaned my head back against the sturdy leath
er and closed my eyes, when a very unwelcome thought intruded.
I bolted upright in the seat. “Won’t your girlfriend have a problem with me staying over?” Even before I’d been on the receiving end of being cheated on, I drew the line at going after another woman’s man.
His gaze slid to mine. “It won’t be any of her concern,” he said, the words clipped but certain.
“I… Oh.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek, not knowing how to respond to that or what he meant.
We remained quiet, only the rain lashing down on the windshield breaking the silence. I shut my eyes and let the steady beat wash over me, lulling me into oblivion.
“Wake up, kitten.” A familiar, soothing voice washed over me.
A gentle shake and I came fully awake, my surroundings registering. Gabe’s car.
“We’re home,” he said in the deep voice that caused a flood of moisture between my thighs and a distinct softening of my brain.
The one that told me I was in trouble. Sexy, compelling trouble.
* * *
Isabelle: Home?
I’d assumed Gabe’s apartment would be huge. Gorgeous. Expensively decorated. He looked like a man who expected and would only accept the best. And I’d been around enough of Lance’s associates to know how the other half lived.
Gabe’s place put anything Lance owned to shame. It was a three-bedroom, three-and-one-half-bathroom apartment with not one but four terraces on Fifth Avenue. Yep. Apparently off the East River meant on the most expensive street in the world. I was a fountain of useless knowledge, as Lance liked to remind me when I’d occasionally spout out a tidbit or fact I’d learned from the Internet, television, or books.
Something else about me, I’m a bookworm and not the least bit ashamed of it. So when, in the midst of my tour of Gabe’s living space, I found myself in a den with fully lined bookshelves and a movable wooden ladder, I instantly fell in love. Not with the man, I assured myself, but with the library.
“You can read in this room anytime you like,” Gabe said, pleasure in his voice that I loved his library as much as he obviously did.