Up to Me (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR- Cash

It makes me feel both reassured and guilty when Olivia’s grip tightens around my waist.  I’m so glad I waited around for her to get safely inside.  If I’d been just a few minutes earlier dropping her off or if she’d driven home by herself… 

The air cools the cold sweat that pops out across my forehead. 

I release the handlebars long enough to reach down and brush my fingers across the back of her hand.  I want her to know that I
know
and that I’m
here. 
In fact, I’m the reason she’s even in any danger, which is where the guilt comes from. 

If I hadn’t taken such an interest in her, if I’d left it at just a fling, like all the others, no one would think to threaten her to get to me.  By caring for her, I messed up.  Now they’re onto me and, as a result, onto Olivia. 

I wouldn’t wish anything bad on Marissa. I mean, she’s a cold bitch, but she doesn’t deserve to die because of it.  And I’m sure that’s what they have planned for her.  What they had planned for Olivia. 

The thought makes my stomach clinch.

I speed up.  My only concern right now is getting her someplace safe.  And then I can work out the rest.  I don’t have a contingency plan for this; after all this time, I never thought they’d find out I have the books.  Not until it’s too late for them to do anything about it. 

But, I’m a smart guy.  And my dad’s got real experience with these kinds of people.  We’ll figure out something.  We have to.  It’s that simple.

I take the most convoluted path I can think of to get downtown to the hotel I’ve got in mind. Constantly, I check my mirrors for lights or any other sign that someone’s following us.  I can’t take anything for granted now.

When I pull up to the extravagant front entrance of the hotel, the valet appears. He’s young and looks anxious to drive my motorcycle. 

After we’re off, I tip him and watch as he drives the bike into the gated, underground parking area.  I figure my ride won’t be
easily discovered there.  I’ll take as many precautions as I can think to take.

I grab Olivia’s hand, leading her into the luxurious lobby of the hotel.  Holing up here with her will cost me a pretty penny, but she’s worth every cent.  Besides, she might never have had the opportunity to stay at a place like this before. If I can manage to make her feel safe enough, she might actually enjoy it.  The fact that I get her all to myself, in surroundings like this, for an indefinite amount of time is a huge bonus for me. 

There’s a brunette behind the reception desk. “May I help you?”

“We’re just passing through.  No reservations.  Do you have any suites available for the week?”

“A suite?  Of course, sir.  Let me check availability for those dates.”

As she types on her computer, I glance down at Olivia.  She looks like she’s holding up pretty well, all things considered.  She’s a little pale, but I’m sure she’s scared shitless, so that’s to be expected.

She looks up at me and smiles. It’s a small, tight smile, but a smile nonetheless.  I’ll take it.

I squeeze her hand and bend to kiss her cheek.  Before I straighten, I whisper in her ear, “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

When I lean back and look into her big, green eyes, they’re shimmering with unshed tears.  Her chin trembles and my heart squeezes in my chest.

I’ve done this to her.

I don’t know if it’s fear for her or Marissa’s safety, or just the shock of what’s happened on top of everything else that’s happened in her life lately, but something is overwhelming her.  I can see it and I feel responsible.

She squeezes my hand back.  I take that as a good sign that maybe she doesn’t completely blame me.  Well, maybe that she doesn’t completely
hate
me.  Because the blame, no doubt, falls to me.

“Sir, we do have a suite available through next weekend.  Do you have a Rewards card with us?”

“No.”

“Yes, sir.  I’ll just need your driver’s license and the credit card you’d like to use for payment.”

I notice she doesn’t mention a rate for the room.  I suppose it’s understood that, when you ask for a suite at a hotel like this, it’s going to be exorbitant.  I hand her the card for
Dual
.  It’s listed under the name of the corporation, so no one should be able to track its usage. Also, I specify that I want the reservation under that same name, for billing and tax purposes.  She nods her head in understanding. 

For most people, that would seem completely reasonable.  And she’s no exception.  Several times, I see her eyes flicker to Olivia.  No doubt she thinks I’m a business man having an illicit affair on the company dime.  I don’t care what she thinks, though, as long as it’s nowhere near the truth.

“Here are your keys, sir.  Your suite is on the fifteenth floor.  Suite elevators are just behind the water wall.  Wave your key in front of the infrared eye once the elevator doors close.  It will take your floor.  Your room will be to your left as you exit the elevator.  If you have need of anything, my name is Angela.  It would be my pleasure to assist you.”

“Thank you, Angela.  One question: do you offer twenty-four hour room service?”

Yes, sir.  In-room dining is available at any time to our suite guests.”

“Fine.  I think we’re all set for the night then.”

“Yes, sir.  Enjoy your stay.”

After taking the keys and the packet of information Angela hands me, I put my hand in the small of Olivia’s back and guide her to the elevators.  Once inside, her silence continues.  I don’t try to urge her into conversation because I know she has only questions, questions about things we shouldn’t be discussing in a public elevator.

When the car comes to a smooth stop and the doors open with a muted
whoosh¸
I usher Olivia out and to the left.  I open the suite door and let her precede me into the room.

I can tell by her expression she’s never seen accommodations like these before.  Despite her shock and fear, she’s still clearly impressed.  And the suite they gave us is pretty upscale.  It makes me happy I’ve got the money to treat her to something like this, even though the circumstances are less than desirable.

The first thing I notice when I walk through the door is the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the impressive Atlanta skyline.  They are the backdrop for the living room straight ahead, as well as the dining room to the left.  Both rooms are done in a beige color and dark red.  The lighting is soft, which has a soothing effect.  As a guy, I totally approve.  There’s a huge flat screen at one end of the living room and, beyond that, double doors that open to the bedroom.   

I walk straight to the leather-bound hotel guide on the coffee table.  Opening it to the menu, I hand it to Olivia.

“I’m sure you’re hungry.  Why don’t you pick something to order from room service.  I’ll wait until they deliver it to leave.”

“Leave?  Where are you going?”

“Someone will be calling me back in another forty minutes.  I want to be at the club when they do, just in case they can track my GPS.  After the call, I’ll get us burner phones to use until I can get this taken care of.”

“Taken care of?  Cash, tell me what’s going on.”

I sigh.  And I think again,
Damn, I hate that I dragged her into all this.  If I could’ve just stayed away from her…

“They’ve got Marissa.  They want me to bring the books.  They’re going to call back one hour from the first call.”

“You can’t take them the books by yourself, Cash.  They’ll kill you both!  You need to call the police.  My uncle is a very influential man.  He’ll have people moving heaven and earth to get his daughter back.”

“Which is why he can never know.  Until it’s over, that is.  It’ll be a greater risk to her if we draw attention to it.  They’ll have more reason to clean up their mess.  If I can get this done quietly, get Marissa back, I can figure out a new plan.”

“You’re going in there alone?  To give them what they want and then expect them to let you go?  And take Marissa with you?  Cash, I don’t even know these people and I
know
that’s not what they’ll do.  Criminals don’t work like that.”

I want to grin at her. 
Like she has a lot of experience with criminals.  Ha!
  No doubt, this is all based on some classic mobster movies.

“Olivia, my father knows these people.  Better than anyone.  I’m not doing anything until I can talk to him.  The books are hidden.  I’m gonna tell them that they’re in a safety deposit box and that I can’t get to them until Monday when the banks open.  I would’ve already told them that, but they just told me they had Marissa, to go get the books and they’d call me in an hour with a place to meet.”

“So, you’re gonna leave Marissa with them until Monday?”

The look in her eye plainly says she thinks that’s something a monster would do.

Flattening the binder up against her chest, I step closer to her and cup her cheek with my palm.  “If I had any other choice, I wouldn’t do this.  But I don’t.  I
need
time.  They won’t do anything to her until they get what they want.  And I have to be damn sure I’ve got my ducks in a row before I give them the only leverage I have.”

She searches my eyes.  And I let her.  I know she has trust issues anyway, thinking I’m the bad boy through and through.  The reality of my situation only makes things that much worse.  If she can just stick with me a little while longer…

“Can you trust me?  Please!  I know I’ve not given you many reasons to, but this one time, just go with your heart.  I promise you,
promise you¸
I won’t let you down.”

Even as I say the words, I know there’s no way I can make a promise like that.  But what I
can
promise is that, if I do, it won’t be because I didn’t do everything in my power to live up to being the kind of guy she deserves. I want to be worth the risk.  I want her to finally fall for the
right
guy.

She says nothing, only nods.  I know it’s hard for her, but the fact that she’s willing to try gives me hope.  Maybe bringing some familiar things will help ease her mind.  I know she dropped her bag just inside the door of her apartment and I didn’t pick it up as we were leaving.  I’ll go by and get it on my way back.  Maybe that will make her feel better.  But, then again, I’m a guy.  What the hell do I know?

“Tell me what you want to eat. I’ll order it.  When it gets here, you can eat while I’m out.  I’ll go by your place and get your bag and some more clothes, and lock up.  Is there anything specific you need?”

She pauses to think and then shakes her head.  I’m not sure why she’s so quiet, but I don’t want to push her.

“Also, I’ll need your cell phone.  I’ll take it to the club and leave it in the back, just in case.  Until then, you can use one of the disposable phones I bring back for us.  Okay?”

She nods again.

“You can call your dad and Ginger in the morning.  Just tell them your phone’s out of commission for a few days and that you’ll be calling to check on them.  We’ll throw that phone away after you talk to them and you can use another one to call later in the week.”

Her smile is agreeable but very tight.  “It’ll be okay.  I’ll
make it
okay.”

She nods again, but still she doesn’t speak.  I refuse to acknowledge the possibility that I may already have screwed things up beyond repair.  No, I’ll just have to find a way to make her trust me, to get us out of this.  Maybe then…

CHAPTER FIVE- Olivia

I can’t even remember the name of my meal.  Something fancy and exotic and foreign that I’ve never heard of.  The only thing I care about is that it’s chicken.  I like chicken.  And this is great chicken.  My taste buds are working well enough for me to be sure of that.  But I don’t really taste it.  Or maybe it’s that I don’t really enjoy it.  My mind and my heart are too troubled and heavy to enjoy much of anything.

What in the world have I done?  Not only did I do
exactly
what I knew I shouldn’t—get involved with
another
bad boy—but I went and picked one that actually has a dangerous past.  He’s not just dangerous to my heart; he’s dangerous
period!

Obviously running at this juncture is completely out of the question.  It’s not safe.  Well, not for my physical wellbeing.  It might be safest for my heart.  But, then again, maybe not.  Even after all this, I still don’t know what to make of Cash.  Sometimes he’s so sweet and sincere and…

He treats me like I’m something important.  He talks to me like I’m something different.  Not like I’m the throw-away kind he’s used to loving and leaving.  He seems to value me—my safety, my happiness.  Just…me.

But I’ve talked myself into believing that before, into seeing what wasn’t really there.  On the one hand, I know better than to take the chance.  I know from long experience what the wild ones do to girls like me.  But on the other hand, something tells me to take the risk.  A voice I’ve never heard before, one that seems to speak from somewhere inside my
soul,
tells me Cash is different. 

The question is:  what to do?  What to do, what to do?  That’s always the question. And it’s so much harder when everything’s left up to me, when I’m the one forced to make the tough call, the tough decisions. 

But right now, these circumstances are dictating my actions.  I’m stuck.  For the moment anyway.  I need to stick with Cash until all this mob stuff is resolved, which hopefully will be very soon.  And then I can decide.  Then I can
think.

After I finish part of my meal, I get up and wander restlessly through the room.  I don’t like not having a phone, not knowing what’s going on.  I don’t like not knowing if I’ll ever see Cash again, if Marissa will be okay, if a raccoon has made its way into my apartment through my wide-open door and torn everything to shreds.

Yes, my mind works in very strange and nonsensical ways.  I think it’s so overwhelmed, it keeps coming back to whether the front door was left open.  Like a broken record, it skips back to that over and over and over again. 

I’m sure it probably was.  I mean, I was a little distracted.  To say the least.  Maybe Cash closed it and I just wasn’t paying attention.  Maybe I closed it out of habit and just don’t remember it. Or maybe neither of us did and everything I’ve ever owned is in some homeless person’s shopping cart.  Who knows?  I guess time will tell.

And if that happens to be the case, some stuff ought to be fairly easy to find.  A homeless person who has recently redecorated their cardboard box with a two thousand-dollar clock might stand out a tad, as would one walking the streets in Jimmy Choo shoes and a Prada evening gown.  Of course, who’d want any of it back at that point?  Not me!  I say happy trails and I hope you enjoy Marissa’s expensive thongs.

The only thing I could identify would be my Tad’s shirts.  How sad is that?  Maybe I ought to have my underwear monogrammed from now on…

I snicker and roll my eyes at my own wayward thoughts.  I have very strange coping mechanisms. 

The posh bathroom in our suite has a deep marble tub surrounded by all sorts of bathing accoutrements. On the back of the door hangs a thick robe.  Although I have no clean clothes and no toiletries, a bath is too tempting to resist, so I turn on the spigot and undress as the spacious room fills with steam.

Thirty minutes later, I’m examining my pruned fingertips, thinking it’s probably time to get out of the tub.  The scent of the lavender bath products has permeated my skin and, after this long of a soak, might very well have invaded my liver.  But it’s been worth it.  The hot water seems to have drowned out a portion of my thoughts and worries.  At least for the moment.  My utter exhaustion has helped a fair amount, too.  It’s been a seriously long and emotionally taxing week!

I release the drain and let the water out of the tub, toweling off and wrapping myself in the soft, warm robe. 

The rich sure do have it easy!

But I rescind that thought almost immediately.  Cash comes from money, albeit the ill-gotten kind, and he might argue that some riches aren’t worth the price.  In fact, I’d guarantee he would.  He’s lost so much because of his father’s pursuit of wealth.  Granted, it began as an effort just to feed his family, but it soon turned into more than that.  Yes, he wanted out, but he still benefited financially from his ties to organized crime. And look at them now—suffering on every front!

I make my way into the bedroom and slide under the covers to rest my eyes until Cash gets back. I push the worry over how long he’s been gone to the very back of my mind. I refuse to think of him getting hurt, of what that would feel like and how it would affect my life.  I can’t think in those terms. I won’t.  Whether Cash and I have a future is one thing.  Whether he’ll break my heart is one thing.  But his death?  That’s something else entirely.  I can’t bear the thought of a world without him in it, even if he’s not mine.

********

I sit straight up in the bed when I hear a noise.  My mind is instantly alert. I’m shocked that I managed to fall asleep.  That’s a testament to how fatigued I really was.

I see a shadow pass through in the living room; I left the lights on in there.  My heart thuds almost painfully against my ribs as I wait and listen.  I hear the soft fall of footsteps against the hardwood floors and I look wildly around the room for some kind of weapon.  The only thing I can spot is a vase on the dresser that I could crack over someone’s head, a hotel pen on top of the bedside table I could use to stab someone in the eye, and a Bible that no doubt resides in the top drawer, although I’m not sure I could really harm someone with that.  God absolutely could, but I don’t think He works on demand like that.

A presence fills the doorway and my heart jumps up into my throat.  Within a fraction of a second, however, recognition calms me.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Cash says quietly from across the room.

I reach over to turn on the lamp, but he stops me.  “Don’t.  I want you to be able to go back to sleep.”

Fat chance of that happening! 
I think dryly, but as tired as I still feel, maybe there
is
a chance.

My pulse is just starting to return to normal when Cash turns to the side, reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head.  The light from the next room gives him a gilded outline that highlights every rippling muscle as he moves and shifts this way and that to throw his shirt onto a nearby chair.

Blood sings through my veins and throbs in my chest when he reaches for his belt.  He says nothing as he unbuttons and unzips his pants.  I hold my breath when he pauses with his fingers in the waistband. I see his legs move as he kicks off his shoes. 

I’m mesmerized.  I can’t help but watch him flick the material down his muscular legs and then step out of them.  My heart stops and my mouth goes dry when I see that he’s not wearing underwear.  And he’s hard.  My mouth is the only thing on my body that’s dry, though. My skin feels dewy and warm moisture is gathering between my thighs.

Breathlessly, I watch him drape his jeans over the back of the chair and turn to walk to the bed, folding back the covers and sliding in next to me.

I don’t move a muscle.  And, at first, neither does he.  After a minute, he reaches for me.  The touch of his fingers sliding over my exposed forearm is like pure electricity.  It brings chills out on my skin. They race up my arms and down my back, and cause my nipples to furl into tight, aching buds.

I’m surprised and a little disappointed when he urges me onto my side.  He pulls me tight against the curve of his body and spoons me from behind. 

I can feel every rock hard inch of him pressing into my back side, even through the material of the robe.  Before I can even think about the wisdom of it, I wiggle my butt against him.  It’s instinct.  And desire.  My body’s got a mind of its own apparently.

I hear the breath hiss through Cash’s gritted teeth and he grows absolutely still.  For several long, tense seconds, he doesn’t move.  Neither do I.  I want him to touch me, to put his hands and his mouth on me and make me forget the world exists, even for a little while.  But when he finally does, touch me that is, it’s to drape his arm over my waist and tuck his fingertips against the bed, under my side.  I feel his lips as he nuzzles my neck and my heart melts right inside my chest.

He wants me. I can still feel it.  But he’s keeping himself in check for me, for my comfort and my emotional stability.  His thoughtfulness pushes me one step closer to never being able to recover from having him in my life, from having met him and known the depth of feeling that I have for him.

For the umpteenth time since meeting Cash, I realize I’m quite possibly in big, big trouble.

Dammit.

We lie quietly together, breathing deeply and evenly, both of us waiting for our bodies to cool.  I never thought it could be literally painful to be near someone. But it is. I ache with want, with
need. 
There’s a place, an emptiness that only Cash can fill. It’s physical, yes.  Oh boy, is it physical!  Just the thought of him penetrating me, thrusting so hard and so deep inside me…

I squeeze my eyes shut and banish the thoughts from my mind.  I have to start cooling off all over again.

Grrrrr.

But there’s something more profound about the way Cash makes me feel, too.  He fills an emptiness that has only recently become a gaping chasm in my soul.  Since meeting Cash, in fact.  It’s like he created it, but at the same time, he can fill it, too.

With a heartfelt sigh, I turn off that brain channel as well.  It’s going nowhere good.  Fast.

“So,” I begin when the silence and the closeness is too much.  “How’d it go?”

I chastise myself.  The call is what I should be worried most about anyway, not trying to keep my hands to myself.  Or wishing Cash
wasn’t
keeping
his hands
to himself
.

Cash’s sigh stirs the hair behind my ear and gives me chills down one arm.

“They went for it.  I don’t think they liked it very much, but I think I kept my cool and convinced them that the books were locked up at the bank for safekeeping.  Assholes,” he whispers at the end.

“Did they let you talk to Marissa?”

“Yeah.”

“And?  How was she?”

“I think there’s a pretty good chance she’ll actually kill
them
by accident.  I feel kinda sorry for ‘em.”

I can’t help but grin.  “So she wasn’t taking her…captivity well?”

“She seemed to be polite to them, but she chewed my ass.  There’s no question who she blames in this scenario.  The good thing is, unless they tell her I’m both brothers, she can just blame me and not drag Nash and all his accomplishments through the mud.”

“With Marissa, I would expect nothing less.”

I feel bad speaking that way about her when she’s being held hostage.  I mean, what a nightmare!  But Marissa’s pretty much a nightmare, too.  Maybe the whole thing will somehow make her a better person.  Or maybe a sharp blow to the head will give her an epiphany.  Or maybe they used chloroform on her and it will alter her personality and make her likeable and decent.  Anything’s possible, right?

“So what’s the plan then?”

“There are some things I need to look into tomorrow.  And I want to go see Dad.  Not only does he need to know about this, but he might be able to help.”

“How?  The man is in prison.”

“I know that,” Cash replies a bit sharply.  “But he knows these people, knows how they think.  Plus, he’s always been good with plans and strategy.  I don’t want to risk overlooking something.  There’s too much at stake,” he says, pulling me tighter against him.

We fall silent. I’m sure Cash’s mind is churning harder and faster than mine, which is pretty damn hard and fast.  But he has the added weight of guilt, not to mention all the buried pain this must be unearthing.

“Cash,” I begin softly. 

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers near my ear, the endearment settling around me like a warm blanket.

“I don’t blame you.”

He squeezes me and presses his lips to my shoulder.  I can barely feel them through the lapel of my robe.

“Can I take this off you?” he breathes.  “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

A pang of desire zings through me at the thought of him holding my naked body against his.  It was only a few hours ago that we had sex for the fifth time today, but it feels like an eternity ago. So much has happened since then, so many emotions have come and gone, that it feels…different.

“Yes,” I whisper in response, answering him before my mind can talk me out of it.