Simon Says (15 page)

Barber saw Bonnie visually lock on to someone to her left. Given the change in her posture, from determined to seductive, he'd bet his last pair of underwear he knew who she saw.

When Simon came into view, heading straight for them, Barber had his assumption confirmed.

On impulse, knowing Simon would see, he kissed Dakota's forehead. “He's heading this way, love.”

Dakota went on the alert. “Who? Simon?”

“Yep. And I think I'd like to snag Ms. Bonnie before she snags him, so now's your chance to make your getaway if you still want to make an early night of it.”

“I do.” She gave him one last hug and headed off in a rush. Barber watched her disappear through a darkened doorway.

Just as Simon reached him, Barber stepped into his way. “Hey, bud.”

Simon almost plowed over him. “Excuse me.”

“Sorry.” Still blocking his way, Barber said, “No can do.”

Disbelief brought the fighter to a standstill. Deadly serious, he said, “Trust me, you don't want to do this.”

“But you do?”

“Not really.” Though his gaze remained direct, Simon relaxed his stance. “But I can. And I will.”

A laugh took Simon by surprise. Barber clapped Simon on the shoulder. “Put away the brass knuckles, my man. I just want to ask you something.”

“I'm busy.”

“Chasing Dakota, I know.” Simon's expression made Barber laugh again. “She'll be busy for a few minutes, and I won't keep you any longer than that.”

Impatience showed through Simon's attempt at civility. “What is it?”

“It's about your woman.”

“Dakota?”

Leaning back on the wall, Barber asked, “How the hell did I miss your sense of humor?”

Unamused, Simon started away, and Barber said, “Actually, I meant Bonnie.”

Simon paused again. “Bonnie's not mine.” He searched the area, trying to find Dakota. “If you're interested in her, feel free.”

“No warnings about her?”

Dark eyes took Barber's measure. “You're a big boy. You can make your own assessments on Bonnie.”

“Right.” Shaking his head, Barber mused aloud, “Wonder why Dakota never believes that.”

“Who can understand women?”

Okay, so maybe Simon wasn't quite as unlikable as he'd first figured. Though there was obviously bad blood between them, Simon hadn't bad-mouthed Bonnie. And he hadn't felt compelled to push the confrontation to a physical level.

Not for a single second did Barber think Simon avoided a fight out of fear of losing. No. Simon carried himself like a man who knew he could dominate any situation.

But maybe, like Barber, he had nothing to prove.

Barber respected that.

“Dakota went up the back way to see the manager. You can wait here for her if you want.” He pushed away from the wall. “I think I'll do us both a favor and head off your little hedgehog for some one-on-one.”

Simon turned, saw Bonnie bearing down on them, and gave Barber a nod. “Thanks.” And with that, he sidled out of Bonnie's path.

Just as he'd done to Simon, Barber put himself in Bonnie's way. “Hey, beautiful.”

She started to push past him, but after the compliment, she preened. “Hello.” Her gaze skipped beyond him. “Did Simon say where he was going?”

“Off with Dakota somewhere.”

Her huff nearly parted his hair. “I thought he had better taste than that.”

Barber chuckled and took her hand. “You insulting yourself, darlin'?” When her dark eyes narrowed, he explained, “Because the way I heard it, he was with you not so long ago.”

She tugged at her hand, and when he didn't free her, she lifted her chin. “He'll be with me again, eventually.”

“That so? Huh. It looks different from where I'm standing, but I'll take your word on that.” He lifted her fingers to his mouth and pressed a warm, damp kiss on her knuckles. “So in the meantime, what do you plan to do?”

“Do?”

“With your sexy self. Surely chasing after a reluctant swain isn't your thing. If I could make a suggestion…?”

Her breathing deepened. She hesitated, and then nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I'll be in town for a week, performing here.” Barber closed the space between them until he could touch his nose to her hair and breathe in her warmed scent. “I'd be real grateful for the company, and I can promise not to bore you.”

She studied him through calculating eyes.

With his mouth only an inch from hers, he said, “If anything's going to get another man's attention, that ought to do it.”

“Yes.” She licked her lips. “That would do it.”

“I get done here at one thirty. That's a while off yet, so in the meantime, why don't you think of something interesting for us to do?”

“Interesting?”

“Yeah.” Gently, he kissed the corner of her mouth, just teasing her. “Something that involves us both being naked. Maybe in a bed.” He dropped his hand and stepped away from her. “Or not.”

Every line of her body showed her interest. “You're presuming a lot.”

“Ah, darlin', I'm just real hopeful, that's all. Been that way since the moment I first saw you.”

The compliments worked, putting a sly smile on Bonnie's lush mouth. “All right. One thirty.” As she went past him, she said, “Between now and then, I'm sure I'll be able to think of all kinds of fun activities.”

For her benefit, Barber clutched his heart in theater-worthy drama. Bonnie laughed—and she hadn't even noticed his boner. It looked like his visit to Harmony would be eventful after all.

That is, if he could stop worrying about Dakota.

D
AKOTA
badly wanted to accept Roger's generous offer. He had a nice place, sort of a low-key honky-tonk with dancing, drinking, easy food, and private rooms galore. The upper floor, where he kept his office, circled the other floors with a cool steel railing, giving guests a nice view of the activities below. Both floors served drinks, but most of the fun happened downstairs with the live band, mechanical bull riding, billiards, and more.

Roger had offered good pay, and staying in Harmony held a lot of appeal.

But for every good reason to stay, there were twice as many reasons to go.

She wasn't a person who liked to meddle in the lives of others. She wasn't a manipulative person who used others for her own ends. She wasn't a woman who had casual affairs.

Who was she kidding? Since her divorce, she wasn't a woman who had sex, period.

Yet, in Simon's case, she'd meddled unforgivably, put her own needs above his, and for the first time in years, the thought of sex appealed to her.

None of that really mattered, though, because Simon didn't want to meet Barnaby. End of story. Time to leave the man alone and accept defeat.

That decision depressed the hell out of Dakota, even if she knew it was the right thing to do. At least she was alone in her unhappiness instead of caught in the middle of the laughing guests. From his office, Roger had kindly escorted her to the back of the building. A private stairwell led to empty storage rooms on the first floor. There she'd find a door to the street.

Roger would have walked her out, but his cell phone rang and Dakota, who wanted nothing more than to return to her motel room to accept defeat in private, assured him she could see herself out. For days now, she hadn't gotten enough sleep. Her feet hurt. And she still had to go to the front of the building to get her coat. She didn't want to wait for him to complete his call, and she didn't want to inconvenience anyone any more than she already had.

Reluctantly, Roger agreed.

After leaving a message for Mallet, Dakota called a cab. She appreciated the chance to sneak out—if only she hadn't had that awful sense of being watched. Not Simon, and not Bonnie.

But someone.

Worry edged at the back of her mind as she opened the stairwell door and, shivering at the rush of cold air, stepped inside. The heavy door slowly closed with a loud creak and a final thunk, leaving her in heavy shadows and subdued silence.

Since she wasn't likely to see anyone on the stairs, Dakota bent to remove her shoes. Her toes thanked her as she wiggled life back into them. She took two steps, listening to the sounds of the party behind her.

Then she heard something else.

Going still, Dakota listened. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath strangled in her lungs. Sure that someone was behind her, and equally sure that she was mistaken, she started to turn—and something hit her hard in the middle of her shoulder blades.

She screamed as she went tumbling headfirst down the long flight of stairs, and didn't stop screaming until she slammed up against the door at the landing.

S
IMON
found Mallet on the dance floor, having himself a good time to a fast tune. Raising his voice so Mallet could hear him over Barber's band, he asked, “Have you seen Dakota?”

Mallet paused, letting his dance partner fall into step with others. “She's not with you?”

“Would I ask if she was?”

Moving off the busy and noisy dance floor, Mallet shook his head. “I suppose not.” When they reached the outer perimeter of the room, he pulled out his cell phone, saw he had a message, and checked it. “Hey, she said she's taking a cab home.”

“When was that?”

He glanced at the phone again, then at his watch. “Maybe ten minutes ago.”

Hands on his hips, Simon stewed. “Damn it.” Why had she come to the party, only to sneak off without telling him?

Mallet started to commiserate with Simon when Dean showed up. He didn't look happy. “Haggerty just called me. Dakota's hurt.”

Both Mallet and Simon froze at that news.

Simon recovered first. “How bad?”

“I don't know yet. I came for you before asking other questions.” Dean started away and both men followed.

Pushing the pace, Simon asked, “What happened?”

“All I know is that she fell down some stairs.”

Dean wound back through the crowd with Simon and Mallet right behind him. They went downstairs, and then into a storage room.

Dakota sat in a chair, shoeless, her dress and hose torn, her face turned away. Beside her, Haggerty fretted with a large cup of ice and some hand towels clutched in his hands.

“I found her,” Haggerty blurted, and for the first time since Simon had known him, he sounded frazzled as he rattled off explanations. “She was all crumpled up against the door at the bottom of the stairs. She screamed, that's how I found her.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Thought she was dead at first. I really did.”

Because Simon was watching her so closely, he saw Dakota stiffen.

“I was outside there, takin' a smoke,” Haggerty continued. “Then she screamed. Real loud. I heard her even through the storage room and the outside door and I came running in, and I found her there. Lookin' dead.”

“Thanks, Haggerty.” Simon went to his knees in front of Dakota. “What happened?”

Dakota shrugged. When she spoke, she didn't sound shaken or scared, or upset.

She sounded pissed.

“You heard Haggerty. He certainly tells it with flair.”

Gently, Simon touched her jaw to bring her face around so he could see her. He knew it wouldn't be good, and still his stomach cramped. “Ah, shit.”

A large bruise colored her forehead. A cut on her cheekbone oozed blood. The corner of her mouth was swollen and she had the beginnings of a shiner. “Dakota, honey, are you all right?”

“I'd be better if I hadn't landed on my face.” Her attempt at a sarcastic smile only made her look more injured.

Simon looked up at Haggerty. “Did you call an ambulance?”

“You try,” Haggerty charged him. “She threatened my manhood if I did it.”

“I don't need an ambulance.” Gingerly, Dakota prodded her lip, then licked it. “Other than suffering from embarrassment, I'm fine.”

“Embarrassment?”

“The girly scream?” She looked up at Haggerty. “I asked you not to repeat that part, remember?”

Simon couldn't believe she was worried about that.

Haggerty looked ready to jump out of his skin. “I had to tell them what happened!”

“Well, then, thanks for nothing.”

Mallet and Dean stood in appalled silence. All of them had seen men battered and bruised. Broken wrists, dislocated elbows, torn ligaments. Knockouts and choke-outs and blood galore. They'd seen it all—on fighters.

Not on women.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Simon lifted her arm, but she pulled away.

“I said I'm fine.”

So defensive. Dakota didn't like it that she was hurt, and she absolutely hated showing any signs of weakness. Funny that although he hadn't known her for long, Simon knew that much without a single doubt.

“How about letting me check for myself?”

Her gaze fried him. “How about you don't treat me like a damn baby?”

“Dakota…”

Disgusted, she said, “Look, my knees are a little sore, and I banged up my thigh. That's it. No biggie.”

“Let me see,” he insisted.

She laughed and gave in. “Sure, doc, whatever you say.” Lifting her dress a little higher, she showed an awful swelling bruise on her outer thigh, visible through her shredded nylons. “Not too bad, considering I went down all but the top two steps.”

Simon settled his hand warmly over her thigh, covering the obscene bruise. “Did you trip on something?”

She laughed again. “No.”

The way she said that gave Simon pause. “Then how…?”

For only a moment, she closed her eyes, looking vulnerable and scared. But when she opened them again, she scowled at the other men. “I don't like having an audience.”

Dean stared at her. “Since when? You're a performer, remember?”

Simon scowled at him. “Knock it off, Dean.”

Dean worked his jaw. “I didn't mean—”

“No, he's right.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “But let me restate that. I don't like a bunch of guys looking at me like I'm a sad little girl. Don't you all have something better you could be doing?”

Mallet said, “I don't.”

Dean drew in a slow breath. “I suppose I should let Roger know, since you fell in his place.”

“I didn't fall.”

Haggerty shoved an ice-filled towel into Simon's hands. “Make her use that before she gets any more colorful.”

“I didn't fall.”

Simon had a bad feeling about this. “Tell me what happened.”

Again, she looked at everyone, seemed to give a mental shrug, and said, “All right, boss. If you want the truth, I was shoved.”

“Shoved?” Mallet demanded. “By who?”

“That's the funny part. See, I was too busy crashing down the stairs to notice.”

They all looked at each other.

“Well, now.” Haggerty's voice became all rough and edgy. “Ain't no shame in falling, honey. I've fallen. Hell, we've all fallen.”

Dakota slumped back in the chair. “Yeah, well, shame or no, if I had fallen, I'd say so. I'm not a liar.” Her gaze bounced off Simon's, and she added, “Not usually. Not this time. I was pushed.”

“Then we'll call the police,” Dean announced, and he already had his phone in his hand.

“Butt out, Dean.”

They each looked at her, and she rubbed a shaking hand under one eye to remove some smeared makeup. “Look, guys, I don't mean to be rude, I really don't. But it's my business, not yours. I don't need some big macho fighters to take care of me. If I wanted to call the cops, I could damn well do it myself.”

“Then why don't you?” Mallet asked.

“Right.” She turned dry and sarcastic. “None of you really believe me, so why would the cops?”

Dean, Mallet, and Haggerty all wore identical looks of guilt.

“You see? It's not like I can prove that someone shoved me, and without proof, what'd be the point? The cops can't do anything.”

“They could look around,” Dean pointed out.

“Wouldn't do any good. Whoever pushed me was long gone even before Haggerty came charging in like a white knight.”

“She did look around when I was there.” Haggerty rubbed at his chin. “I thought she was looking for you, Sublime.”

Dakota rolled her eyes. “I wanted to make sure that he wasn't there to hurt you, Haggerty.”

He?
Simon thought. Dean glanced at him, and they shared a look of comprehension. So Dakota had an idea who had done this, but she didn't want to say.

He'd get it out of her, Simon decided. Soon. After they were alone.

Haggerty drew up in affront. “You wanted to protect
me
?”

With a crooked smile, Dakota said, “No offense.”

“I'd have kicked his ass.”

“Sure you would have.” She looked away from him. “Guess I wasn't thinking straight.”

Before Haggerty could get more insulted, Simon said, “First things first.” He was so furious he shook, so that instruction was as much to himself as to Dakota. “You need to go get checked over.”

“Nope.” As if she weren't black and blue all over, Dakota pushed to her bare feet, and though discomfort showed on her face, she stood straight with her shoulders back. She held out her arms, putting herself on display. The arm seam of one sleeve had given way. Her nylons were shredded. “See? No breaks, no sprains.” Her eyes narrowed. “No reason to pamper me.”

Mallet gave a lurid curse.

“Your every sentence starts with a no,” Dean pointed out.

“That's right, and here's a few more for you.” She crossed her arms under her breasts. “No police and no hospital.”

Dean leveled a look on her. “If you were a fighter, I know what I'd tell you.” He crossed his arms, too. “But you're not.”

“Right.” She smirked. “I'm a weak little female.”

“True enough.”

“So let me guess,” she said, ignoring Dean's agreement with her. “If I wasn't female, you'd tell me that this little cut on my face doesn't need stitches.”

“No, it doesn't.”

“And I should ice the bruises for now, then hit the hot tub tomorrow to ease the stiffness.”

“Probably.”

“Sounds like the perfect plan.” Snatching the ice away from Simon, Dakota pressed it against her forehead. “There, you see, it's all under control.”

They stared at her.

She turned to Haggerty. “Thanks for the ice.”

“Welcome.”

Simon couldn't take it. “I'll drive you home.”

“I called a cab.”

“I'll cancel it.” Done with letting her call the shots, Simon turned to Haggerty and Mallet. “Since she insists, we'll skip the police, but I'd like for you two to go back upstairs and ask around. Someone pushed her. I want to know who.”

Dakota looked momentarily surprised that he believed her. He could see her relief, and something more.

Mallet nodded. “Someone might have seen another person up near the office.”

“It's possible. Or maybe they saw someone coming back downstairs. Can't hurt to check.”

Dakota said nothing.

Simon chose to see her silence as trust. “Dean, if you'll get rid of the cab and then let Roger know what happened, I'd appreciate it.”

“I don't hold Roger responsible,” Dakota insisted.

“He'll still want to know. And since you were with him right before this happened, he might have noticed someone else around the area.”

“Sure thing.” Dean gave Simon a level look. “You'll call me in the morning to let me know how it's going?”

Simon nodded.

“And if you need anything…,” Mallet added.

“Got it.”

One by one, the men touched Dakota—her hair, her arm, her jaw. It was their way of offering sympathy and support as they left her in Simon's care.

Suffering their concern, Dakota thanked them and tried to hurry them on their way. To Simon, she looked like a stoic trooper ready to collapse.

As soon as the others had gone, Simon made another ice pack so that she had one for her bruised face and one for her injured thigh. “Come home with me.”

She looked mildly surprised, then very defensive. “Why would I want to do that?”

Why indeed? “I want to take care of you.”

Her face scrunched up in indignation. “What am I, an infant? You guys all get beat up worse even when you win a fight, and you don't sit around bellyaching, waiting for someone to—”

Simon kissed the bridge of her nose, effectively cutting off her tirade. “I want to talk to you, too, Dakota. And get to know you better.”

“Get to know me better?”

“That's right.” Simon didn't mention any form of intimacy. She wasn't up to it, and right then, what he wanted most was for her to be safe, comfortable, and cared for. Sex would wait.

He kissed the corner of her injured mouth, curved his hand around her nape, and gave her a direct look. “And Dakota, I want you to tell me who did this to you.”