GetOn (8 page)

“Inside,” he snapped, grabbing her arm. “Now.”

“Hey,” Mia yelled as Garrett dragged her unceremoniously
through the rain and into the garage. Her black pumps sank into the rain-soaked
lawn as she tried to pull free of his grip. He let her go then went back into
the rain to wheel his bike inside. The garage door slowly closed behind them.

“You owe me a new pair of shoes. These cost me a fortune.”

“I’m not the one who told you to show up at my goddamn
house,” Garrett said without looking at her. He yanked the keys from the bike’s
ignition.

Mia’s retort bubbled to her lips, but just then she realized
where she was standing.

“Holy shit,” she whispered as she looked at the collection
of vehicles in front of her.

It was a three-car garage, holding only two cars. But oh
what cars they were. A black Cadillac Escalade occupied the spot closest to the
door to the house, gleaming chrome rims shining in the fluorescent light. A cherry-red
Camaro sat by the far wall, one of those vehicles that only seemed to show up
at auto shows. A shiny chrome blower sat atop the hood, the car’s silky black
convertible top contrasting with the brightness. Subtle, thin scrollwork
decorated the sides of the body, dips and curves reminding Mia of a woman
stretching across the red paint.

In the center of the garage was a trio of motorcycles. The
black one she’d already been on, a bright-green crotch rocket and a Harley that
looked as if it had come straight from the 1980s. Despite its dated look, it
was obviously clean and well cared for.

There was a shit-ton of money in this garage.

Garrett stalked past her without another word, yanking down
the zipper on his black leather jacket. He mounted the steps to the house,
shoving his key in the lock almost violently.

Mia kicked off her heels and followed him. She couldn’t
blame him for being upset. Trent had brought her here. She’d assumed he’d told
Garrett what was going on—obviously she’d assumed wrong.

He punched in a code on the alarm pad beside the door while
she launched into her explanation.

“Listen, I’m sorry. Trent said he saw someone at the
convention. He brought me here because he said it’d be safer. I thought he’d
call and tell you, but I guess he didn’t. So I’m sorry you didn’t know about it
beforehand. But I won’t apologize for being here.”

He arched a brow at her.

“I won’t. There’s something between us, something big. And I
want to see where it takes us. I know it’s not the best of timing for you,
because of this whole vendetta thing, and I get that. I wish things were
different. I wish you’d let the police or the FBI or whoever handle it. All I
know is—”

A finger pressed against her lips, silencing her. She didn’t
fall quiet because she agreed to being shushed, more from surprise.

“You finished? Good.” Garrett dropped his hand and threw his
keys onto the counter. “Trent was wrong, Mia. It’s not safer for you here.
You’re leaving. Now.” He glanced out the dining room window.

“I don’t want to go.”

He stepped closer, and for a second she thought about moving
back against the counter. Nope. She wasn’t budging. Her chin lifted in
defiance.

“What about your job?”

“I got fired. I’m happy about it.”

“Why didn’t Trent take you back to his place?”

“He told me you’d be home all day and would be glad to see
me.”

“That goddamn traitor,” Garrett said, shaking his head as he
looked at the ceiling. “Fine. I’ll take you home.”

“But what if they’re looking for me? I mean, I live a couple
hours away, but still…”

He glowered at her, his chest swelling in temper. “I’m going
to kill Trent.”

She raised her brows as she stepped right up to him and
crossed her arms tightly. “He’s your best friend, right? Don’t you think he’d
have kept me away from you if I’m
really
that bad?”

“What the hell do you want from me, Mia?” His yell rang
through the large kitchen.

“I want to help you, you dumbass!”

Mia stared straight into Garrett’s gray eyes, daring him to
push her. He didn’t look away. Her heart pounded as she realized how close they
were standing, the heat from his body radiating into hers. If she leaned
forward just a bit, her breasts would brush against him. If he leaned down just
a little, he could kiss her.

The silence was crushing, her frustration draining into the
floor from her bare feet. A shiver went through her, not because her dress was
spotted with raindrops, but because of the anticipation that danced up and down
her spine.

He leaned down, fractionally, slowly, so gradually that Mia
thought she might scream. But then, finally, he was close enough for her to
rise up on her toes and brush his lips with hers.

The first electric touch was enough to break the tension.
Garrett descended on her like a hawk on his kill. He gathered her into his arms
as if he’d waited his whole life to do so, and she wound her arms around his
neck, not so much to steady herself as to press as closely as she could. Their
kisses were deep, wild matings of lips and tongue, fierce and uninhibited.
Garrett’s hands cupped her ass, bringing her into sharp contact with his
erection. She gripped his shoulders and rubbed her hips against him. His mouth,
so hot and wet, explored her as thoroughly as she did him.

He pressed her against the counter, lifting her atop it. She
moaned into his mouth as he hiked up her dress to settle himself between her
thighs. His body was so hot, so hard, so thick with ropes of muscle. She
indulged her itchy fingertips, running up his strong shoulders and neck to feel
the back of his skull, around to rest on the thick pads of his pecs. Then down
between them, bumping over his defined abdominal muscles, delving beneath the
waistband of his pants.

He tore his mouth away, making use of the ornate twist of
her hairdo to yank her head to the side, allowing him access to her neck. She gasped
as he continued his onslaught on the tender skin of her collarbone, his
nipping, licking kisses sending fire straight to her core. Her hips twisted as
she arched her back, begging for more.

“Mia,” he mumbled against her skin, yanking her top down to
reveal her breasts. “God, I…”

“I know,” she said, pushing his head down hard against her
cleavage. “Don’t say it. Show me.”

Garrett breathed deeply, so damn glad to be near her soft
skin that he didn’t give a shit he’d been livid only minutes earlier. He was
eager for her, his cock straining against the tight confines of his jeans,
throbbing with anticipation of being sheathed within her soft body.

He pressed her tighter against the counter, letting his
mouth trail where it so desperately wanted to go—over her generous breasts. Her
dusky nipples beaded beneath her black lace bra, their turgid points begging
for his touch.

Her fingertips scraped up his arms to dig into his back. She
dropped her head back, so far that she would have fallen backward if he hadn’t
scooped her into his arms.

Striding through his kitchen, he held her close. She wound
her arms around his neck, her head pillowed against his chest. He kicked open
his bedroom door and placed her gently on top of the dark-blue comforter on his
king-sized bed.

“Wait here,” he said, then pressed a firm kiss on her lips.
She moaned into his mouth when his tongue delved inside, but he pulled away
quickly.

If he was going to do this, by god he was going to do it
right.

He yanked a trunk from beneath his bed, the flat black
rectangle contrasting with the plush cream Berber carpet beneath. Even though
his brain and blood were buzzing with passion, his movements were quick and
sure as he flipped open the trunk lid to reveal its contents.

He’d wondered if he’d ever get to use these again. He
couldn’t help but be glad the time had finally come, and with her. He had a
feeling she’d enjoy this.

The cuffs came first. She raised an eyebrow at him as he
stood with the red leather cuffs in his hands.

“Strip,” he said, nodding toward the dress that was still
rucked at her waist and the bra that didn’t hide anything from his hungry gaze.
“Now.”

She rose to her knees, and that stubborn chin of hers went
up into the air. He didn’t say a word, just dangled the cuffs in midair.

Glancing at the cuffs, then back at him, she gave a deep,
shuddering breath then did as he ordered. He just watched as she shoved the
dress down and off her body, then tossed it aside. Her lacy black thong
followed, and then her bra. Once she was completely nude, she knelt on the bed
in front of him once more, her wide green eyes curious, sparkling with desire.

“Turn around.”

“Just tell me one thing,” she said, rising higher on her
knees in order to look him dead in the eye. “Are you going to make this worth
my while?”

“Mia, sweetheart, you’ve never had a night like the one I’m
about to give you.”

With a half-smile and a laugh, she turned and faced the
heavily draped windows.

God, she was so beautiful this way. On her knees, that
heart-shaped ass looking especially round and delectable, her tattoo colors
popping against her tanned skin. Only one more thing before he cuffed her…

There. With a little fiddling, he’d released her hair from
that intricate knot, allowing the cascade of curls to fall where it wanted.

Wild. Wanton. That was Mia, and that was the woman he wanted
to share this with.

“I want you to pick a word,” he said, wrapping one of the
leather cuffs around her right ankle. It was linked with about six inches of
chain to another red cuff, and this one he attached to her right wrist.

“What, like a safe word?” She looked over her shoulder. His
cock leapt as her tongue darted out to taste her lips.

“Exactly.” He tested the cuffs to make sure they were secure
on that side.

A low laugh came as he started the process again on her
left. “Biker boy.”

He smiled as he finished snapping the cuff in place. “Biker
boy is your safe word?”

With her arms forced down by her sides, she turned her torso
enough that he could see her breasts. God, they were lovely.
She
was
lovely. “Yes. If I say ‘biker boy,’ it’s too much.”

He nodded then pulled two pillows from the head of the bed.
Arranging them in front of her, he ran his free hand down her bare back,
smacking her ass lightly.

“Head down, Mia. Relax.”

She went quickly, willingly. And he knelt by his trunk
again, pulling free a small red case. As he opened it, anticipation raced
through his blood. God, he hadn’t done this in forever. But it felt right. So,
so right.

He worked quickly, arranging the attachments to be easily
accessible and plugging the long black cord into the outlet strip on his
bedside table. Carefully putting the large, mushroom-headed attachment into
place, he gave his arm a quick test on the lowest setting.

A tiny blue spark arced from the violet wand onto his skin,
giving the lightest flicker of sensation. Good. Just right for her first time.

“What are you doing?” Mia’s ass wiggled in the air, and he
sucked in his breath at the sight of her spread pussy. God, he’d been so
distracted setting up the violet wand that he hadn’t seen the feast she was
showing him. “I feel like I’m waiting for the show to start.”

“You are,” he said, flipping off the lamp. “It’s a light
show. Close your eyes and tell me what you feel.”

He started on her back, pushing her curls aside to reveal
her shoulder blades. Hovering the blown-glass globe over her skin, he moved it
back and forth, small arcs popping as the wand buzzed with its low voltage.

“You’re tickling me with something. And it sounds like a
tattoo machine?”

“It’s a machine, but it doesn’t do tattoos.” He moved the
wand across her arm, completely unsurprised when she opened her eyes.

“What is that?”

“It’s something that can make you feel very, very good, if
you let it. Let
me
.”

She nodded, eyes wide. “I can barely feel it.”

He bumped it up to the next setting, barely flicking it over
her shoulder. “How about that?”

“Mmmm.” Her eyes went half-lidded. “I want to feel that all
over.”

“Then you will.”

He moved the violet wand over her body—her back, her hips,
her generous ass, following small licks of electricity with kisses of his own.
She moaned and twisted, lifting her ass to him, her body begging for more. His
cock strained behind his fly, taking notice of the power differential between
them. Mia was all fire, but he was making her burn. She was powerful,
headstrong and argumentative, but he had her bound on his bed while he was
fully clothed, her body singing under his spell.

It was a heady damn thing, but he was too smart to believe
she’d let him do this forever.

The third time he brushed the wand past her thighs, she
twisted her hips sharply, thrusting her pussy into the path of the globe. She
squealed aloud as the arc connected with the tender flesh of her vulva.

“Did you like that?”

“Oh god, Garrett, please. This is torture.”

He grinned. “Good.”

He put down the wand and stripped. A foil packet ripped then
he was on his knees behind her. Bound as she was, all she could do was wriggle
against him and beg for more. Which she did, completely without shame.

“Did you like that?”

“If you
ever
,” she punctuated the word with a sharp
thrust back, “tease me like that again, you’re going to face consequences.”

“Am I?” His cock slid deep into her soaked channel and they
both moaned.

As he set the rhythm, her breathy words reached him.

“Yes. Again. Oh, again.”

Mia yawned without opening her eyes. Well, he hadn’t kicked
her out last night. That was a surprising victory, for sure. And then she
remembered what he’d done instead.

Her eyes flew open. She stared at the gray walls in front of
her, dark-blue drapes blocking out most—but not all—of the morning sunlight.

Holy shit. Whatever that little thing had been, shooting out
sparks and turning her on, she wanted more.

Shifting her feet beneath the covers, she winced. Those
leather cuffs had been butter-soft, but still, all the fighting against them
had made her skin ultra-sensitive, almost raw in some places.

She bit her lip as she took stock of her body. Tingly,
almost as if she could still feel those tiny licks of electricity all up and
down her body, eased and tantalized by Garrett’s knowing kisses.

She’d given up everything as soon as he’d asked. Control,
the one thing she didn’t give up lightly. Without a word, without a complaint,
she’d let him hog-tie and electrocute her. Deliciously, but still.

Mia had been alone for such a long time, it seemed. Fighting
to keep jobs she hated, fighting to retain the rights to crappy apartments and
crappier cars. Her life was her own, to take care of, to manage, to control.
But she’d handed the reins to Garrett last night.

Why?

She didn’t have a good answer.

A soft snore came from somewhere over her shoulder and with
a huge dose of trepidation, she rolled toward it. The silky sheets dragged over
her nipples as she adjusted position, pillowing her arms beneath her head.

Garrett faced her, his beautiful mouth open just slightly,
dark-blond lashes dusting his cheeks. His brow was furrowed so often while he
was awake, as if he was worried about something or always on high alert.
Probably both. But now it was smooth, and she let herself lightly rub a finger
across it. He didn’t stir.

The sheet came only to his waist, so she kept up her
perusal. That broad chest with its shield tattoo, intricately done, obviously a
badge of honor. The thought popped into her head then, and she wondered if he
regretted getting it, since he’d been let go from the force. She somehow
doubted it. Even though Garrett was no longer an officer, he still obviously
valued loyalty and justice above all else.

She frowned. Why did she trust him? Of all people, why had
she let
him
have control over her for the night?

Her heart thumped hard just then.

Shit. It was true. She’d said it last night, only she hadn’t
listened to herself. Something was happening between them. Something special.
But she wasn’t ready to give it a name yet; it was way too soon for that. Her
hand drifted across her chest to rest on her raggedly thumping heart. But there
was a little spark there, like one that had come from that amazing toy. And she
was willing to see if it would grow.

It deserved that much, she was sure.

She was so busy staring at the sleeping man beside her, lost
in her own thoughts, that when the doorbell rang she actually shrieked aloud.

Garrett leapt into action, jumping from the bed, yanking the
bedside drawer open and grabbing the pistol inside with seamless movements.
He’d trained the gun on the door before he even spoke.

“What’s wrong?” he barked, looking left and right. Mia had
sat bolt upright at his movement, so now, she covered her mouth with the sheet
and started laughing.

He was standing with legs spread wide, bare-assed, with a
gun trained at the closed door.

The doorbell rang again, and Mia got enough control of
herself to answer him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to set off the burglar alarm. It’s
just your doorbell.”

Rubbing a hand over his skull and having the decency to look
the tiniest bit embarrassed, Garrett replaced the gun. “Sorry. I’ll just…”

“Yeah,” she said when he trailed off and grabbed his
clothes. “I’ll wait here.”

As he zipped his jeans and left the room, Mia allowed
herself another small chuckle. He gave “hair-trigger” a whole new meaning. Good
thing he hadn’t shot the door. He’d have really been pissed at her.

Male voices bled through the door, and Mia took advantage of
Garrett’s distraction to head into the large master bathroom and freshen up.

“Good god.” Her voice echoed in the tiled space. “You could
fit my whole apartment in just this shower.”

It was a little exaggeration, but not much. The marble-tiled
walk-in was more than roomy enough for four. A large garden tub with jets
beckoned from the corner and even the toilet looked expensive.

“He really must be a hit man,” she grumbled as she rubbed
water over her face. “Nobody should have this much money.”

Since her suitcase had spent all night on the front porch,
she grabbed Garrett’s discarded t-shirt from its pile on the floor. Slipping
into it felt forbidden but delicious. She tried out how it felt in her head and
decided that wearing his shirts was an okay thing. Well, more than okay. It
reminded her of him kissing her all over, which sent tingles up her spine.

She pressed her ear against the door. It was silent.
Probably mail person or FedEx or something. In any case, she was thirsty and
close enough to decent, so she twisted the knob and walked into the living
room.

Empty. She hummed a little bit as she ran a finger along the
glossy white chair rail and then rounded the corner to the kitchen.

She stopped dead.

Garrett, Trent and two guys she’d never seen before were all
huddled over some sheets of paper, which were spread out on the counter as if
they were the Magna Carta or something.

Suddenly, Mia was desperately aware that she’d put on
neither panties nor bra.

Her bullshit thousand-watt smile had never come in handier.

“Hello, boys. Who’s making me breakfast?”

“Good Lord.” Reg’s clipped accent was even more pronounced,
and Garrett couldn’t help but mentally echo the sentiment.

He’d never stopped being aware that behind his bedroom door
was a tousled, naked Mia while he was out here listening to Quentin outline
what he’d learned from his contact. But what could he do? He wanted to throttle
Trent for bringing her here, but in all honesty, he was kind of glad his friend
had taken the initiative.

At least, he
had
been until Mia pranced through his
house, looking absolutely edible in nothing but his t-shirt.

“Seriously,” Mia said, propping a hand on her hip. Quentin’s
eyes almost bugged out as the hem of the shirt skimmed her upper thigh. “I’m
kind of hungry. Anyone here know how to make quiche?”

Reg started to raise his hand but Trent slapped it down.
“Morning, Mia. Sorry to disturb you guys.”

Garrett cleared his throat, somehow remembering that this
was his house. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing…” He was about to say “happened”,
but then he realized exactly how ludicrous that bald-faced lie would sound at
this point. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

He bent to the pages Reg had spread out in front of him,
trying like hell to get his mind back on the data. Ford. Ramirez. The race.
They meant something more, and he had to find out what.

“I’ll just grab something from the fridge, if you don’t
mind,” Mia said.

He didn’t look up at her, he was too busy focusing on…

“You know, I make a mean banana-nut muffin,” Quentin was
saying as Mia bent down to look in the fridge. “I could whip up a batch if you
were in—”

“Mia, can I talk to you for a second?” The words came from
somewhere, but it took Garrett a second to realize he’d said them. Not said.
Growled. Like a damn hungry bear.

Mia’s nod came with a sly little smirk that pissed him off
even more. She shook the milk carton at him. “Okay if I get a drink first?”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her through the living room.
The bedroom door shut behind them both with a click, and he rounded on her.
Before he could say a word, she’d opened the carton and started to tip it up to
drink.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m thirsty, and you wouldn’t give me time to get a glass.
Besides, there’s only a little bit left in here.”

Raking a hand through his hair, Garrett blew out an
exasperated breath. “Listen, just give me a few minutes to get rid of them,
okay?”

Mia set the carton down on the dresser and grabbed his
hands. Demanding his gaze with little more than a determined look, she spoke.
“I went out there because I thought whoever it was had left. It was quiet, I
couldn’t hear anything. I seriously didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

He barked a stunned laugh. “You think you embarrassed me?”

She shrugged one shoulder, which slipped through the neck of
his t-shirt. “I guess.”

He pulled her close and kissed that shoulder. “Anything but.
Just so you know, you look delicious in my shirt. But I didn’t like the other
guys seeing you look so sexy.”

“You jealous?”

The question hung there between them, and he didn’t know
what to say. So he didn’t say anything, just pressed a deep kiss on her lips.

“I’ll be done with them in just a few, okay?”

She nodded.

Closing the bedroom door, Garrett sighed. He was twitchy,
nervous, like an escaped fugitive. His insides felt exposed. The woman behind
his bedroom door had sparked something within him. And she wasn’t going to stop
until both of them had discovered what it was.

“Everything okay?” Trent, ever the voice of calm and reason,
met him in the living room.

Garrett nodded, rubbing a hand over his bare stomach. “Yeah.
Sorry about that. So, the plans?”

He and Trent continued into the kitchen, where Reg and
Quentin were comparing pages.

“Like he was saying before, Quentin’s contact knows a little
bit about Ramirez.”

Quentin nodded at Trent’s statement. “Yeah. He said most of
Ford’s product comes straight from Ramirez now.”

“So he’s buying in bulk from Ramirez, and then piecing it
out to his flock of dealers.” Garrett folded his arms, glad that his brain had
finally started clicking at semi-normal speed. “Why’s he racing his supplier?
Where does Ramirez get the drugs from?”

Reg pointed at the pages. “That’s what I’m working on.
Quentin’s contact gave me a cell phone number for Ramirez. I’ve hacked into the
phone records. Lots of calls in Atlanta, several untraceable. But there’s one
that keeps popping up.”

Reg handed Garrett a sheet of paper with the number
highlighted, along with a name.

“Gloria Saavedra?”

Reg nodded. “From what I can tell, she’s originally from
Columbia. She’s supposedly here visiting family, but she’s been seen out on the
town with Ramirez. Clubs, fancy restaurants, all that rot.”

“Not to knock what you’ve done here, Reg, but what does
Ramirez’s girlfriend have to do with him and Ford? Do you think she’ll have
information?”

Trent tapped another sheet of paper on the counter. “That’s
what we’re thinking. Her phone records have shown untraceable calls, as well as
several to this number.” Trent’s gaze flicked to Garrett. “Larry Floyd. He’s
newer on Ford’s crew. He’s one we might be able to crack.”

As realization dawned over Garrett, so did a good dose of
shame. “Ah. That might be a little bit tough.”

The three other men around the counter stared at him, Trent
most of all. “Come again?”

Mentally kicking himself for his stupid stunt yesterday,
Garrett ’fessed up. As the story came out, Trent’s face got more solemn. The
other guys didn’t say a word.

“So Floyd is probably on high alert right about now,” he
finished.

“Are you kidding me?” Trent’s volume climbed. “I can’t
believe this, man. How careless can you be? What about backup? What about the
rules
you
fucking set for this deal?” Trent slapped the marble
countertop.

Garrett stood taller. “You’re right. It was a stupid stunt.
Now an excellent lead is a dead one, and it’s my fault.”

“I just…” Trent threw his hands in the air and turned his
back on Garrett.

Garrett didn’t move, he just waited. He knew he’d taken a
stupid chance and it hadn’t paid off. Trent had every right to be mad, Reg and
Q too.

Trent shoved the papers into a haphazard stack. “We need to
think about this.” He started for the door but stopped at the threshold. He
tossed a glance over his shoulder at Garrett. “I’ll call you in a few days when
we’ve figured out what we can do with this information now. Please, for the
love of god, don’t do anything else stupid.”

Garrett took a step forward, misplaced indignation rising in
his chest, but then he stopped. This was all his fault. He bit his tongue.

“Take care of Mia,” Quentin said as he followed Trent out
the door. Reg nodded politely then the three of them were gone.

“Shit,” Garrett sighed.