Surrender (14 page)

By mid-afternoon, we’ve hung fifty Dallas Cowboys balloons and one Eagles balloon in honor of me, prepped five cheese and cold-cut trays, made chili, and filled various bowls with a half dozen kinds of chips. Two side-by-side refrigerators in the pool room are fully stocked with beer and wine coolers. There’s a bar near the pool and two big screens mounted on the main wall. It’s overcast outside, but hot. A swim later sounds good. Guests start to arrive by three. Fortunately, Pepper and her friends had moved to her bedroom.

Craig arrives at three forty-five with his latest conquest. As soon as he sees I’m alone, he drops her and chases me around the kitchen.

“Garrick will be here soon,” I warn.

“What, I’m not allowed to talk to you?”

“I didn’t say that,” I clarify. “But Garrick may feel differently.”

He heaves a sigh. “So you’re really doing this.”

I put down the dish I’m washing, pull off the rubber gloves, and twist around so I can see him. “It’s already done.”

A moment of silence passes between us. “You slept with that prick already? After everything I’ve done . . .”

“Craig,” I say in my sternest tone. “You dip your wick in anything that moves. I’m not interested in STDs, dating a man who has children with twenty different women, or more specifically, dating
you.
”

He takes two steps toward me. “That’s really what you think?” He’s mad.

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t stutter.”

We both turn. Garrick is leaning against the arched doorway.

I’m instantly relieved. Craig throws me a dirty look and pushes past Garrick.

“Still fighting off the dog, I see.” Garrick meets me halfway and we hug.

I shake my head. “He’s relentless.”

“Apparently I need to keep a closer eye on you.”

“Don’t push your luck.” I pinch his cheek.

“Where’s the beer?”

I point toward the living room. “Follow me—I’ll give you a tour of the carnival tent.” I tell him about Pepper and her friends.

He stops me in the hallway. “I’m not sure I want you hanging around anyone who does that.”

“Macey doesn’t participate,” I say. “She just happens to have a roommate who does.”

“I understand.” He cups my cheek. “You’re better than that.”

I appreciate his concern. “Thank you. And I promise if I’m over here and it starts up, I’ll leave. I don’t want to see it.”

“You know I trust you implicitly,” he says. “I worry about your safety.”

“If you trust me,” I say, “then have faith that I know when to call it quits if I’m uncomfortable.”

He smiles and nods. “That’s my girl.” We walk into the pool room. Nearly seventy people are packed inside like sardines. It’s three minutes after kickoff. The Eagles score. I cheer. I get the evil eye from a few hard-core Dallas fans and laugh it off. Garrick hugs me from behind.

“Didn’t really think you were a football fan.”

“I bleed green.”

He laughs. “Philly has the greatest fans,” he starts. “If you enjoy hanging with felons.”

“Don’t get me started on the Cowgirls,” I shoot back.

We watch the first quarter, then decide to tour the backyard.

“Can you believe the size of this garden?” I ask as we walk along a slate path.

We stroll several more yards and sit next to the custom waterfall, where we can see dozens of large goldfish peeking out from their shelters in the catch basin. There’s a large rock garden and gazebo to the left and half an acre of flower beds to the right.

“Where to next?” I ask.

“Here.” He slides his tongue between my lips.

Whenever he kisses me I lose my train of thought. “Do you want to go for a swim?”

“Sure.” He stands. “I’m wearing my trunks.” He lifts his T-shirt so I can see his washboard abs.

“Show-off. I need to change,” I inform him. “Are we swimming inside or outside?”

“It’s a bit crowded in there for my taste.” He gestures toward the house. “Besides, I don’t want Pepper to get the wrong idea.”

I swat his bottom. “I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

I walk away humming an Adele tune. All the bathrooms on the main floor are occupied, so I head to the only one left—in Pepper’s room. She pays the highest rent to occupy the master suite. It has a private entrance, sitting room, and his/hers bathrooms. When I knock on the door, no one answers. I slip in and notice the French doors leading to the garden are open.

“Pepper?” I call. I walk toward the doors. No one leaves anything open when it’s 90 degrees out. She doesn’t answer. “Pepper?” I say louder.

Suddenly I hear male laughter. Then I hear a woman scream. I’m almost afraid to look, but if Pepper is in danger . . . I peek around the doorway and see Carlos arguing with Pepper. He’s shaking her violently. I need to get help,
now.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. I let out a little yelp and retreat. I’m scrambling for the door and trip over a pair of shoes in the middle of the floor. I land on my left knee. As I push myself upright, I look up. Carlos is smiling down at me.

“Mira lo que ha traído el gato,”
he says in Spanish.

Gallons of adrenaline are pumping through my body. “What are you doing here?” I’m edging closer to the door.

“The same thing I was doing on the pier,
mamasita
.”
His voice makes my skin crawl.
“Collecting debts.”

I’m almost there, but he catches me by the hand and drags me deeper inside the bedroom. I scream, but nobody is going to hear me. I look wildly around the room. There’s a king bed, three dressers, a love seat . . . Carlos flings me on the bed. I land on my side and bounce. He’s on top of me, trying to flip me on my back. I’m breathless, hollering, kicking, and cursing.

“Get off me, you filthy son of a bitch . . .”

“I like when bitches talk dirty.” He slaps my face.

I retaliate and rake my long nails down his cheek. He grunts, slaps me again, and squeezes my wrist so hard I squeal in pain. He pins me, and leans back to unzip his jeans, leaving only one hand holding me down. With my free hand, I grab a fistful of his balls and twist. He yelps and falls sideways. I flip off the bed, make it to the door, fling it open, and run.

“Garrick!” I take a sharp left after I clear the hallway. “Garrick!”

I turn left again and smack into Garrick’s chest. Tears stream down my face. He takes one look at me . . . “What happened?” He holds me by the shoulders. “Robyn, what the fuck happened?”

I’m trying to catch my breath. “Carlos. In. Pepper’s. Room.”

He doesn’t wait for me to show him. He disappears down the hallway, trailed by three or four other guys. Craig appears at my side. I look up.

“What’s going on, Robyn?” He tilts my chin up. “Your bottom lip is swollen. Who did this?”

“Please,” I beg. “Go help Garrick.” He nods and takes off.

I smash through the half-open door. The bedroom is empty, but the contents of Robyn’s backpack are all over the floor by the bed. The bedspread is crumpled and the pillows are in disarray. I scan the room. The double doors going outside are wide open. Two guys who
 
followed me head outside. I check the bathroom and closets. No one. No Pepper. No fucking Carlos. Suddenly, the guys yell for me. I run outside. I clear the side of the house and stare down the long driveway. I see the tail end of a late-model black Cadillac screech off the property.

“Fuck!”

“Did you get the license plate number?” Craig is standing next to me.

I stare at him. I need to punch someone, something . . . and he’s a great start. I swallow my rage for Robyn’s sake. “Where is she?”

“She headed toward the kitchen.”

I’m there in five seconds. Robyn is sitting at the table with Macey. Macey is holding a small ice pack on the corner of Robyn’s mouth.

“Did you get him?” Macey asks.

“No,” I growl. I curl both hands into fists over and over again to calm down. “Baby—” I slide into the chair behind Robyn. “Tell me what he did.”

She’s surprisingly calm, but doesn’t want to talk. Macey fills me in blow by fucking blow. I smile evilly when she tells me how Robyn obliterated his balls. That’s the only reason she escaped. “Wanna go home?”

When Robyn looks up at me with those baby-blue tear-filled eyes, my heart shatters into a million pieces. There’s an emotional bond between us already; I feel her pain. “Yes. Please take me to your house.”

I nod. Whatever she wants. I won’t rest until I kill that bastard.

Chapter Thirteen

It’s eleven thirty. Robyn is curled beside me, her head resting on my chest. Gretchen fussed over her after we got home. Made her some tea and drew a hot bath. She’s finally comfortable, but my head is reeling. I’m full of rage. There’s nothing I won’t do to protect my family. And Robyn is quickly becoming a part of it.

A little grunt escapes her lips as she slowly crawls on top of me. Her hands slide up my torso. I’m not sure we should do this after what happened . . . Her tongue invades my mouth. My mind goes numb. Whatever she wants. I love the way her skin feels sliding across mine. I cup her ass, anchoring her against me. She kisses the way I kiss—like she wants to swallow me. I run my fingers lightly up her back and brush her hair aside. My new favorite part of her body is that neck. I can’t resist it. I stroke her with both hands and feel a ripple of pleasure permeate her body.

One of her tiny hands slides down my stomach and takes hold of my cock. She squeezes softly and I groan. I gently turn her over. I’m on top now. She’s unusually quiet, and I nibble the side of her neck, loving the feel of her hot breath on my face when she exhales. She squirms, then cups my face. Her gaze is fixed on mine. I can’t hide the depth of my feelings any longer. My gut aches. Her eyes are luminous in the near darkness. Everything feels right. She’s right—perfect for me.

“Robyn,” I whisper.

“I’m all right,” she assures me.

“I know, baby.” I kiss her nose and lips. My hands shake a little. I’ve never done this. Never felt this way about a woman in the twenty-five years I’ve been alive. Her hips buck. She’s letting me know what she wants.

I frame her heart-shaped face between my hands. I’m addicted. “I want you,” I say.

Passion explodes inside me. I capture her mouth. She shifts in my arms, but I won’t let go. My tongue slides deeper, claiming her mouth. Claiming her. Making her mine forever. I push upward, penetrating her. She’s so wet. My thrusts are deliberately slow. I want her to feel it, to believe I love her without having to say it. She whimpers. I nuzzle close. Her body convulses. She grabs a handful of my hair and tugs my face flush with hers. We’re staring again, our hips barely moving. I fantasize that she whispers she loves me. The sweetest words I’ll ever hear.

My desire for Robyn nearly overwhelms me when I leave her sleeping in bed. My dick is rock hard twenty-four/seven now. I grab a towel from the hallway linen closet and head to my sister’s bathroom. I don’t want Robyn to wake up. She’s exhausted and bruised from the attack. I take a cold shower, wrap a towel around my waist, and pad downstairs to the laundry room to get clean clothes. Gretchen is waiting for me in the kitchen.

“How is she?”

“Better.” I smile. “So am I.”

“I’m worried, Garrick,” she starts. “What if that guy tracks her down, comes here, or hurts us?”

There’s fear in her eyes. I give her a hard hug. “Nothing is going to happen, I promise.” I release her and she nods. “How do you feel about me asking Robyn to stay here for a while?”

“I don’t know, Garrick. This is our home—you hardly know her. And how is she going to react? You told me how independent she is—it’s a matter of pride for her, isn’t it?”

I look at the floor. “Things changed last night.”

“You didn’t propose or something, did you?”

I shake my head. “One step at a time.”

Gretchen sighs. “Garrick, you’re in love with a stripper. Think about it. What would Mom and Dad say?”

“I think they’d accept it eventually. I can’t change how I feel.” My heart races. “I hope the feelings are mutual.”

“I’m trying to understand, really. My first impression—she’s really sweet. But . . .”

“Don’t you have somewhere to go this morning?” I’m not prepared to discuss Robyn’s job with my sister.

“No,” she says. “I’m not leaving the two of you alone today. Not after what happened.”

Perfect.
“I’m gonna head out for an hour or so. Let her know I’ll be back.”

“Sure.”

“Drink some more.” Gretchen pours me a second serving of cranberry juice.

I’m uncharacteristically thirsty today. “Thank you.”

“Does your lip hurt?”

I touch the tiny bump on the left side of my mouth. “Only if I touch it.”

Gretchen grimaces. “I still can’t believe it happened. The nerve of that asshole showing up at your friend’s house.”

“Unfortunately,” I say, almost ashamed to discuss it, “when you live with dancers . . .” I don’t want Gretchen to have a negative opinion of all strippers. “You risk attracting shady characters. Especially drug dealers. They prey on dancers.”

She opens the fridge, puts the juice on the shelf, knees the door shut, and then joins me at the table. “After my parents died,” she starts, “Garrick and I didn’t know where we were going to live or what we were going to do. Garrick had a great job, but he didn’t make enough money to pay off the mortgage and cars. He refused to be in debt, even though we had some time to make financial decisions. We didn’t know our parents had a substantial amount of life insurance until weeks after their funeral. We struggled at first. I understand
why
you dance, Robyn. I hate that you
have
to do it. Understand?”

I manage a soft smile. She’s a carbon copy of her brother. “I wish my parents shared your outlook.”

She pats my hand. “Give them time. It must be hard accepting that your daughter . . . strips for a living.”

“I’m sure it is.”

She pulls back, a not-so-friendly look on her face now. “I don’t want you to hurt my brother. He’s all I have left and I’m super protective, Robyn. If you don’t care about him, walk away now. He deserves someone special.”

Hearing the somber note in her voice, seeing the depth of her devotion to her brother, drives a spike into my heart. “I won’t hurt him,” I guarantee. “I care.”