Dare to Surrender (29 page)

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Joy announced.

Ash and Heather just looked at her.

“So… I’ll go. To the bathroom.” She turned and went to the downstairs bathroom. Once inside, she collapsed on the toilet seat
and threw her head into her hands. She couldn’t help but think about what Ruby had told her, that Ash had cheated on her.
If he was taking sexy shots of women like that all the time, if he was tying them, his hands on their perfect bodies, his
eyes always staring at submissive, feminine perfection—

Her stomach lurched, and for a second she thought she might be sick.

Shooting to her feet, she blasted into the living room and picked up her giant bag. Plastering a smile on her face, she looked
to Ash and Heather. “Okay. I guess I’ll just be going.”

Ash stood. “Are you sure?”

Joy started backing toward the door. “Mmm. Yeah, I gotta… go.”

Ash started after her, catching her at the door. “What’s going on?”

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Heather watching them as she crossed her spidery legs.

“I just… I have some work to do tonight.” She laughed nervously. “You know, for the show. Busy, busy. That’s me.”

He didn’t look like he was buying it, but he let it go. “Okay. Is your phone charged?”

“I think so.”

“Good. I’ll call you later.”

She kissed him quickly on the cheek and left.

“I don’t know why I freaked out like that.” Joy tilted the margarita to her lips and took another gulp. “I mean, he’s a bondage
artist… I know that, but oh my God. You should have seen her.”

Kate rolled her eyes, her heavy eye makeup exaggerating the look. After Joy had run away from Ash’s place, she’d rounded up
the group for an emergency drinking session. Now she sat in a booth at Mario’s, surrounded by Kate, Scott, and Erica.

“I bet she was tall,” Kate said scornfully.

“Of course,” Joy said. “And gorgeous.”

“You’re gorgeous, too, Joy,” Erica said.

“But not in
that
way. I’m cute,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Nothing wrong with being cute, Joy,” Scott said.

“Anyway.” Joy drained the rest of her margarita. “I don’t know why I felt so threatened.”

“Well, you don’t always have the best luck with men, sweetie,” Kate said gently. “Maybe it’s your selfprotection instincts
kicking in.”

“Maybe… but the thing is, Ash hasn’t done anything that would make me doubt him.”

“Yet.”

Everyone turned to Erica. She shrugged. “I’m just saying he hasn’t done anything yet. But come on. He’s known as this big
erotic artist; it’s what he lives for. Do you think a guy like that could be happy with a ‘normal’ life?”

“Hey,” Joy said. “I can be freaky!” In fact, her friends would probably be shocked if they knew how freaky she actually could
be.

“I’m sure you can, honey,” Scott said with a grin that implied he didn’t believe it for a minute.

“The thing is…” Joy swirled her straw in the icy remains of her drink. She was almost afraid to admit it, but alcohol had
loosened her tongue. “The reason Ruby broke up with him was because he cheated on her.”

Erica raised her glass. “Men suck.”

“Even though,” Joy went on, “he never admitted that he had been unfaithful.”

Kate snorted.

“I don’t know…” Her gaze drifted through the crowd and through the front window. The bar was located on a small side street
in North Beach. The street twisted up a steep hill, and Joy’s eyes were drawn by a movement just near the edge of her view.
It was a person dressed in black baggy pants and a black hoodie. He had a backpack. He placed it on the ground and, after
he’d looked around a moment, pulled something out of the pack.

Something that looked like a can.

She froze. Could it be her phantom artist? But it didn’t make sense. This was a more public street than he usually tagged.
If it was him, he was getting braver, bolder. And as she watched him outline what could only be Picasso’s
Blue Guitar,
she whipped her head to Scott. “Move!”

“What?”

She gave him a hard nudge. “I said, move, you big lug! Let me out!”

Looking at her as if she was crazy, he scooted over and let her out of the booth. As she pressed through the crowd, she noticed
the bartender eyeing the stranger in the hoodie.

Joy burst through the door and was immediately hit by damp, chilly San Francisco air. She also smelled the mouthwatering aroma
of garlic; this neighborhood was known for its amazing Italian restaurants. But Joy ignored her suddenly growling stomach,
instead walking slowly toward the figure with the spray-paint can.

He looked over his shoulder, and when he saw her, he jumped back and looked ready to run.

“Wait!” Joy said, trotting toward him. “You know me!”

He paused, and she saw he was young, pale, and very suspicious.

Joy stopped about five feet from him. “I mean, you don’t
know me
know me, but have you gotten my cards?”

She saw his interest pique. “You’re the one?”

“Why haven’t you called?”

“How do I know you’re not a cop?”

“I’m not.”

He took his time looking her over. Apparently her image reassured him—Joy wasn’t sure if that was good or bad—because he relaxed
slightly. “Okay. You’re not a cop. So what do you want?”

“What’s your name?”

“Ben.”

She didn’t believe him, but she let it go. “Well, I think your work is amazing, Ben. Would you be interested
in meeting with me at the gallery? I want to discuss representation.”

“Are you serious?”

She nodded. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time. I think you have major potential.” He looked dubious.

“Seriously. How do you think Keith Haring got started?” she asked, meaning the famous artist who did the colorful dancing
figures. He’d started out as a graffiti artist in New York, and by the time he died, he was a household name.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Let me give you another card.” She began digging in her bag.

It was then that the police cruiser pulled up.

N
ot a cop, huh?” Ben said, his voice full of anger.

“I’m not—”

“Shit!” he said, shaking his head as the cruiser stopped in front of them, blue-and-red lights flashing in the night.

“I swear, I didn’t call them.”

“Right.”

Both doors of the cruiser opened, and two men in uniforms emerged. The passenger-side cop was compact with short brown hair;
the driver was Asian and looked like he could punch through a door with one of his beefy arms. Joy’s palms dampened when she
caught sight of the weapons on their belts. Just looking at their guns brought up feelings from when she’d been robbed.

“Identification,” the linebacker said.

Ben pulled a ragged-looking ID card out of his back pocket. “I wasn’t doing anything,” he mumbled.

“That’s right,” Joy said, the margaritas she’d consumed making her bold. “We were just standing here, minding our own business.”

The blond cop turned to Ben and pointed toward his backpack. “I want to look in that bag.”

“What?” Joy asked. “Why?” She figured if she argued with the cops a bit, Ben would believe she was the good guy. Plus, she
didn’t think Ben should be punished for gifting the city with his wonderful pieces.

“Excuse us, miss. We have reason to believe this person is in possession of graffiti materials, which is a misdemeanor.”

She drew herself up. “Are you calling art a crime?”

“No, the city of San Francisco calls defacing public property a crime.”

She glanced at his nametag. “I’m sorry, Officer Quan, but I certainly don’t think anyone would consider beautiful murals that
add beauty to our city a crime.”

“Lady, I’d advise you to stay out of this.”

By now, several people had come out of the bar and were happily regarding the free entertainment. Erica was just shaking her
head, Scott was smiling, and Kate was making a signal across her mouth indicating Joy should shut up.

But Joy didn’t feel like backing down. She felt like sticking up for Ben’s rights as an artist. And she was tipsy.

Blond cop picked up Ben’s backpack.

“Wait!” she said, stepping forward.

“Miss, if you don’t move aside, I’ll book you for obstructing and delaying a peace officer’s duties.”

“It’s your duty to censor people?” She sensed Ben shrinking away from her, as if he wanted it known they weren’t together.
But Joy couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Do you really believe art should be illegal?” She sighed. “So, so sad.”

Quan frowned. “I’m not kidding, lady. If you say one more thing to me, I’m going to arrest you.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Everyone turned to see a tall man walking toward them, his expression grim.

Shit. What’s Ash doing here?

“I apologize, Officer. My girlfriend is just a bit passionate and forgets herself sometimes.”

“She’s lucky I didn’t throw her in a cell.”

Ash had his hand on her shoulder now, his grip firm and unyielding. “Thank you for that, sir. I’ll take her back inside now,
if you don’t mind.”

“Ash Hunter?” Ben was moving toward Ash, his eyes wide. “The artist?”

“Yeah,” Ash said.

“Man, I love your work. I’m a huge fan.”

“Oh.” Ash shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“If you don’t mind?” This from the brown-haired cop. “I need to have a talk with our little friend here.”

“You’re not going to arrest him, are you?”

“Not tonight. But I’m taking the graffiti materials and giving him a hard warning.”

“Oh, thank you, officers!” Joy said over her shoulder as Ash dragged her back to the lounge.

“Joy,” he said in a low voice, “when are you going to learn?”

“When are you going to stop hauling me around and telling me what to do?”

He stopped suddenly and turned to face her. “When you start using your head. So. I guess
never
!”

She sucked in a breath. “I can take care of myself, Ash!”

“You were just nearly arrested back there. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be handcuffed, sitting in the back of a police car.”

“And it would be fine with me, because I would be there because I was standing up for what I believe in.”

They were standing in front of the lounge, and Joy felt her friends’ eyes on them, watching and listening. She didn’t care.

“Tell me, Joy. How would you make bail? You don’t have any money, remember?”

She lifted her chin. “I wouldn’t.”

“You would stay in jail.” It was a question, but he made it into a statement.

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been in jail, Joy?”

“No.”

He leaned in closer, until they were nearly nose to nose. “Well, you wouldn’t like it.”

“How do you know?”

“I know
I
sure as hell wouldn’t like you in a cell!” he said, and she felt his breath on her face.

“Why do you care what happens to me?”

“I just do!” he shouted.

They stared at each other, panting. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and her pulse raced. Ash looked furious at her; his
cheeks were flushed with what she assumed was anger.

And yet, something pulsed between them. Something electric and exciting and active.

He finally seemed to realize they’d become a bit of a performance, so he yanked her hand and dragged her into the lounge.
“Where’s your giant bag?”

“It’s over in the back booth. Why?” she said, trotting behind him.

“We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?”

Ignoring her, he led her to the place where her friends had abandoned her purse and jacket in the deserted booth.
Traitors,
Joy thought as Ash picked up her things. He slung the bag over his shoulder and carried her jacket as he led her through
a door at the back of the bar. Soon they were in a back alley behind the building.

On one side of the alley was a building, and on the other side wooden trees and fencing lined the uneven pavement. Ash led
her about fifty yards away from the bar and then made a quick turn and pulled her into a little alcove, above which a big
maple tree blocked the sky.

He pushed her against the fence. She watched him begin to pace, looking a bit ridiculous, because he still carried her purse
and coat.

He froze. “Are you laughing?”

“No.” She put a hand to her mouth but giggled anyway.

He just stared at her, and even in the dim light, she saw a vein pulsing in his neck. Interesting. She’d never noticed that
before.

“You’re not going to be laughing in a minute, woman.”

And just like that, a shot of lust darted through her. “Why do you say that?” she asked, trying to sound coy.

“Because you’re going to be too busy begging me to fuck you.”

His crude words made her breasts tingle. “In a minute? Just one minute?” she taunted.

“Yup.” He dropped her bag and coat on the ground, where the items landed in a pile of fallen leaves. Then he came at her.

He took her arms and spread them wide and high. “Hold on to the fence and don’t let go.”

If she stretched, she could just grip the top of the fence. “When does your minute start?”

“Now.” Dropping to his knees in front of her, he lifted her skirt and yanked down her panties until they fell to her ankles,
and he tossed them aside. And then his mouth was on her flesh, sucking her clit right over his teeth. She gasped, suddenly
glad to be hanging on to the fence; she thought her legs might buckle.

“Yes… ,” she said as he thrust two fingers into her pussy. Already, she was so wet he slid in easily, deep and hard, in and
out.

He ignored her, instead sliding his hand around in her wetness, coating himself before he plunged into her again. She cried
out as her body started to tremble.
“Yes… unh…”

He was working her clit hard now, using his tongue to flick at the engorged flesh until she nearly begged, but instead she
bit her lip and thrashed her head against the fence.

Was he going to do it? Make her come in a minute? Not that she had any idea of time; all she knew was that he knew exactly
what her clit needed; he knew just how to use two fingers to make her insides clench—and then she felt his pinkie finger,
slick from her juices, sliding against her ass. He didn’t ask; he slid it in, using his hand to fuck both her holes, fast
and deep and beautiful.