Velocity (A Dangerous Bad Boy Romance) Read online

  I didn’t even have to adjust the seat. It already fit me like a glove. The engine was already running, and settling into that magnificent car gave me chills up and down my spine. It was like the car was made with me in mind.

  Aside from the price tag…

  Off I went. Navigating out of O'Hare was a trial, primarily because there were so many boom gates and other cars that I couldn't give push down the accelerator the way I could feel it wanted me to.

  I edged my way down the crowded streets of Chicago and across the river, and after another twenty minutes or so of navigating traffic I finally found enough open road to justify the money that I was spending on this car.

  At last, I could open up the throttle and get a move on. Orlando wasn’t going to wait for me, after all. As soon as I did, I felt myself start to relax.

  The speed let a sense of relief wash over me. There's something magical about pressing your foot down on the gas pedal and having the car respond with such ready eagerness. I know a lot of people think of driving fast, expensive cars as an almost sexual experience, and maybe they're right.

  All I knew for sure was it that felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. It was a new feeling, and one that I could sure get used to.

  I was glad that the flight got canceled. I was happy to be on the road, despite the fact that I had to drive twelve hundred miles of unfamiliar road to get to my destination.

  Which reminded me… I should probably call my boss and let him know what the deal was. He wasn’t scheduled to arrive in Florida until a couple of hours before the conference was set to start.

  But come to think of it, what was the point in panicking him? Either I made it or I didn’t. If I was late, the conference would implode anyway. It was too late for him to learn how to run it, and he’d never shown any interest in that sort of thing, anyway.

  And, if I did make it there in time, I’d have worried him for no reason. No, there was no point in calling in. Not yet, at least. I’d just have to do my best to get to Florida on time, and hope that the gamble paid off.

  After all, why make him worry?

  No, worry wasn't exactly the right word. 'Worry' meant that maybe he could do something about it. He’d panic. I had enough experience to know that if I wasn't at the conference, it would go up in flames. Nobody else could pull it off, especially not on such short notice.

  Things happened because I made them happen, and if I didn't call and reassure them that I wouldn't be very late, their confidence would start to crumble.

  Besides, I had a damn good car and a heavy foot. I’d make it.

  I better, I thought to myself. I’d been trying not to remind myself that this was far more than just a conference. In reality, it was probably the most important moment of my career. If things went the way I needed them to, it would make me. And if they didn't…

  Well, if things didn't go well, I may as well be looking for something else to do with the rest of my life.

  The powerful growl of the engine was a constant, reassuring sound. The thrum of the motor racing away underneath the hood even drove away some of my worries.

  But not all of them… I swore under my breath. This was going to be close, but I could do it. If luck was with me, there might even be enough time for me to find a hotel room tonight and tomorrow night. It would sure beat sleeping on the side of the road, and I could get a much better rest on a mattress than I would worried about getting carjacked in the middle of nowhere.

  I felt like I was walking on a high wire, precariously balancing a million things whilst at the same time lugging around the weight of the world on my shoulders. If I slipped up… If I crumbled, even for a moment…

  It would all come down around me.

  Yes, I had some money, but every cent I owned was tied up in making more of it. I rented my apartment and got most of my clothes as gifts from aspiring designers. Hell, I was even renting the car I was driving, which is probably why I was driving it like I'd stolen it.

  I'd spent my entire adult life building towards a thing that may or may not happen, and now that it was time to work out exactly where this path brought me, I didn't know if I should be glad for the chance that I'd succeed or absolutely scared out of my mind at the huge possibility of failure.

  I just didn't know. When I crossed the state line from Kentucky into Tennessee, that hadn't really changed. I tried to remind myself that at least I had a destination. Once I got to the buyer’s conference in Orlando, I could do my job and then pitch my idea of a new fashion line to a handpicked group of investors.

  But even beyond that, I was lost. The future stretched out ahead of me like the road I was on, straight and narrow and getting darker and more uncertain by the minute.

  I shook my head to clear the thoughts. I'd been taking a late flight out of O'Hare, which meant that as the road curved east for a couple of miles the sun was setting behind me. The light was blinding in my rearview mirror, and I squinted my eyes and tried to prepare myself to push through whatever lay beyond the horizon.

  It was getting dark fast. The Bentley had a big gas tank, but it was powered by an even bigger engine. I'd have to fill up soon. I glanced down at the GPS and took note of my rapidly falling range.

  The names of the towns ahead flashed by on signs that I barely even looked at. None of them sounded like a place I'd want to stop, not for a night and not for a minute. These were the kinds of towns people wanted to leave in their rearview mirror.

  I wanted more. I had a million-dollar dream to chase. Some people were happy with small towns and family and kids in the car for a nice Sunday drive…

  And some people weren't…

  With the Bentley running on fumes, I finally turned off the highway and headed down the beat up two lane road that led to one of those forgotten places. I just hoped they’d still have a gas station open for business so I could get back on the road. I didn’t belong here. My destiny was waiting further down that highway. I’d made the choice. I wasn’t going to settle for the life I had… I was going to chase the life I deserved.

  Settling for less was an idea that haunted my dreams. It was always what rattled around inside my head in the last moment before I finally fell asleep, and it was the thought I was dwelling on before a dozen blinding and flickering single headlights filled my rearview mirror as they filled the road behind me.

  Bikers. They were everywhere. A whole gang, or club, or posse, or whatever the hell they called themselves. I’d thrown caution to the wind and I was risking one hell of a ticket if I blew past a speed trap, but these guys flew past my Bentley like I was standing still.

  For a brief moment I was happy not to have them riding my bumper, but that wave of relief quickly gave way to adrenaline when I realized that one of them was signaling the others to slow down.

  The back of my neck tingled, anticipating the trouble I’d just driven straight into. It was like a sixth sense. Living in New York gave that to you. Along with the thick skin you developed a kind of radar, a way of knowing when you're in a bad spot.

  One of the bikers had slowed enough to make sweeping gestures outside my darkly tinted window, waving me toward the side of the road. He couldn’t see me, but I could sure as hell see the malice written across his face.

  I was not going to stop. Not for this asshole, and not for any of his friends.

  I stepped on the gas again, my fight or flight instinct pushing me to a foolish decision to try to outrun them all. It was well and truly nighttime now. The sun was set. My eyes watered in the glare of the high-beams I left behind as my engine unleashed its horsepower.

  The lead motorcyclist swerved to let me pass, but as I did so I saw him reach into his vest and pull out a gun that glittered in the lights of the bikes behind us.

  Scared as I was, I wasn't going down without a fight. I yanked the wheel toward him, stepping on the brakes as I did so. I didn't want to kill anyone, but if I could make them think I was willing to, maybe I could get out of this alive
.

  They were strong men with long hair and beards, and I saw the flash of white teeth as they smiled at me and easily dodged the car. The man with the gun aimed it at me, and for an instant I stared down the barrel of the pistol and threw my hand up to protect my face in a vain effort to stop a bullet.

  He chose a new target, and as easily as if we were standing still, he put a round into the front tire. The car shouted a warning as the run-flat tire lost air pressure, but I was still in control. The words restricted performance lit up just below my speedometer. The engine lurched and the car began to slow down.

  This was it… I smelled burned rubber and my own panic.

  I jerked the wheel again, sending the big car swerving toward the gun wielding criminal. To hell with playing it safe. If I was going down, he was coming with me.

  The car skidded left, narrowly missing the grinning biker as I careened off the road.

  I lost control.

  Of everything…

  Chapter 3

  It was like someone pulled the plug. Everything went dark in an instant. I wasn't sure exactly what had happened. Did I black out? Was I dead? It seemed like I was swimming in a void of absolute nothingness.

  Finally, I dragged my awareness back to the real world. It wasn’t easy, but the ringing in my ears seemed to be fading. That had to be a good thing.

  I wasn’t going to let myself feel like I was out of the woods. Not yet. I didn't know where they'd gone. They could be just around the corner. Just up the road, turning around to take another run at me and finish me off…

  And if they were, there was nothing I could do about it right now.

  I felt a wry grin twist my lips as I realized that, for the first time in what seemed like forever, I wasn't worrying about the conference. The stress-filled life that had ruled my every thought was already starting to lose its power over me. Not all of it of course, but just a touch. Enough.

  Maybe enough to give myself some perspective…

  I opened my eyes, still not sure if I was dreaming or dead.

  The ruggedly handsome guy drifting into view didn’t help matters. He was a sexy combo of dark hair and hooded-eyes. The darkness that surrounded me was pierced with a flashing golden yellow light that illuminated every inch of him.

  I’m definitely dead.

  He was clearly an angel. How else could a man look like that and still be real?

  Even better, he was trying to tell me something. At least his mouth was moving… All I could concentrate on was those full, cupid bow lips and the white, even teeth that made up his wide smile.

  There was a hand reaching up and stroking the grizzled line of his stubbled jaw.

  I envied that hand. Whoever was stroking his face was doing exactly what I wanted to do. Regardless of how much confidence I tried to show the world, all of that was bullshit. It was front, a mask. A lie about myself I’d made up and fed to the people around me, and when they bought it I lost just a little bit of respect for them.

  My vision cleared even further, and I realized that the hand I was seeing was my hand. I recognized the polish on the fingernails and the slender length of my fingers. What was I doing? Who was this guy?

  My head was swimming. There were bikers… a gun… a shooting…

  He leaned down even further, his face looming large in my vision. I had a horrifying realization of what I was going to do just before I did it as I strained forward against the seatbelt and what I realized was the deflated airbag as I tried to plant a passionate kiss on those full lips.

  He didn't really dodge my clumsy attempt, but at least he was enough of a gentleman to take my head in his hands and stop me. He was gentle, and his warm, rough hands against my flesh made me melt. I probably made a fool of myself, but I chalked it up as a symptom of whatever head wound or injury I was suffering from.

  Desperate to regain control of the situation, I tried to tell him I was sorry. I needed to make him understand that the person he was seeing wasn't really me. It wasn't the real Kara, the aspiring big shot who was on a mission to get her life to the place she wanted it to be. The person in front of him wasn’t about to make waves with a new fashion line. She wasn’t a force of nature, and she sure didn’t have her shit together.

  The person he was seeing was someone else entirely.

  Liar, I told myself. It was true. I was trying to deceive myself now in the same why I’d tricked everyone else for years. Somehow, for whatever reason, when this rugged devil looked into my eyes he was staring at the person that lived behind the mask.

  And it scared the hell out of me. I didn't like it, not one little bit. The fact that a man I didn’t even know could sweep in like this and peek behind all the walls and façades I'd spent a lifetime erecting pissed me off.

  The force of that anger gave me the strength to let me throw off whatever shock my body was going through. I struggled against the belt and pushed him away. In response, he wrapped his incredibly powerful arms around me, and I felt like I was encased in bands of iron.

  I couldn’t get away, but at least now the words he was saying were starting to make sense to me.

  "Hold on to me, I’m going to lift you up out of the car," he told me. There was something in his voice that made me feel small and safe. It was the way a farmer would talk to a newborn colt, his voice sure and even. "Go slow, sweetheart. I don’t think you’ve done any damage to yourself, but I haven’t finished making sure." He had a sexy southern drawl that made each of his words into something charming, even if he didn’t know it.

  But looking at him, I think he did…

  I shook my head at him fiercely, trying to show him that I was neither hurt nor willing to be rescued.

  As I did, a jagged pain came to life and ran through me like a line of fire. It was one of those there and gone again things, but it made me wonder if maybe the crash had been worse than I’d thought. I didn't know if the injury was permanent, but I was starting to feel a little dizzy. I swallowed hard, struggling against the pain as the mystery man hauled me up from my seat.

  Worse than the dizziness, I discovered I was saying something. My mouth had a mind of its own…

  "Those bastards," I was muttering, my anger at him replaced by a ferocious, scorching wave as all the details of my evening were flooding back.

  "Those fucking bastards!"

  “Those bikers won’t be coming back anytime soon,” he told me, gravel in his voice and steel in his eyes. I watched as he turned his head and glanced down the road I the direction they’d gone. “I promise you that.”

  I didn’t like being the damsel in distress. It was embarrassing, and I tried to shrug off his words. Even that was a mistake. I felt myself sliding to one side before his strong arms steadied me. One of hands slid up my side to cup my jaw and I felt the warmth of his fingers on my neck, his strong fingertips in my hair behind my ear.

  "Calm down," he whispered, though now it sounded like he may well have been talking more to himself than to me. "We’ll get you out of here and checked in to a hospital a couple of counties over. They’ll check you out and make sure that you've got nothing more than bumps and bruises. I think the airbag rang your bell."

  Despite the pain I’d felt a moment before, with every passing second I was becoming more and more in control of my faculties. It didn’t take me long to be able to ball my hand into a fist and take a swing at his broad chest. It was a dumb thing to do. After all, he was only trying to help me. Besides, he was so thickly muscled that I doubted he even felt it.

  Just by the wry smile on his handsome face, I could tell that I was right. Still, I hadn't been trying to hurt him. I was just trying to make a point, and I knew I wasn’t doing a very good job of that. “I’m not going to the hospital,” I told him. “No way. I've got places to be.”

  To my surprise, he leaned back a little and smiled down at me. “I've got news for you gorgeous. As headstrong as you are, you better listen up. Wherever you think you’re going, those plans just got der
ailed.”

  “Huh?”

  He shrugged. “You’re in no condition to be driving, and this Bentley isn't going anywhere under its own power. You’ve got a broken axle."

  I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. The crash must have been a bad one. I could still feel the impact of it in my bones. Some things your body just doesn’t forget, even if you can’t remember them.

  The only thing I could compare it to was a roller coaster ride. That moment when you're at the top, as you look down at your fate and realize that there's some tiny chance that you're going to make the news that night. Your parents will see you, a little picture flashed in the corner of screen as the news reader talks about the tragedy at the pier. But you can’t stop what’s coming. You’re on this ride until the end… Control of your fate was taken away the second you climbed on board and pulled down the little safety bar.

  It felt like everything was running out of control. My life had been on the rails until right now, and now things were getting away from me faster and faster, all because of one moment when something had gone wrong.

  He's going to ask you your name, I told myself. There was hardly a gap before my consciousness whispered at me once more. You should lie to him. Tell him it's something different than it really is. Don't be Kara, not anymore. Not here.

  Not with him.

  It was a crazy thought, and a foolish one. For right or wrong, I managed to ignore it.

  "My name's Kara," I blurted, hearing an almost spiteful tone in my voice as I fought off the urge to make up a false identity. Instead, I went the opposite way, spilling the details in a rush. "I'm a fashion buyer from New York. And I really do have places to be. Important places. More important than here, wherever here is."

  That brought a little chuckle from him, and it was so sexy and carefree that I couldn't help but feel a twist of lust for him, despite the circumstances.

  "Well," he said with an endearing smile, "here is a little place we call Silver Creek. And I don't have any reason to doubt that you’re bound for bigger and better, miss. This place isn't very special, after all. I’m Dane, by the way."