Slave to the Rhythm (18 page)

“Have you got a tattoo?” Ash asked, raising one eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Because it’s not on your legs or your arms. It’s not on your neck. Where would Laney put a tattoo?”

I threw him a warning look, but Ash just grinned. I liked this Ash: playful, sexy.

“Nope, no tattoos,” I answered. “I never found anything that meant so much that I’d want to get the ink. What’s yours about?”

Ash frowned, the playful expression disappearing.

“It’s a . . . map,” he said hesitantly, struggling to express his thoughts. “A map of my life. Things that happened, important things. When I have a new part of the story, I add to it.”

He shrugged.

“I got my first when I was 16 after my mama died.”

I kept the questions light after that. We talked about music and about dancing. Endlessly about dancing. I was fascinated by this brave new world that I’d never entered before. Ash’s eyes glowed, and I saw again the man who’d claimed his place center stage in Vegas.

We talked about my work, writing student guides for school texts, and we talked about Chicago. It was a little bit like a first date; one of those tell-me-about-yourself’ conversations. And unlike a lot of guys I’d met, Ash was as interested in finding out about me as I was about him.

He was eager to see the city too, but edged with nerves because the end of the journey meant . . . neither of us knew what it meant.

As dusk fell, we stopped somewhere in the middle of Iowa. Ash could barely keep his eyes open and we were both hungry.

He climbed wearily out of the driver’s door, stretching his tall frame with a grimace. As he went around to the trunk to get my wheelchair, I called out to him.

“I think I can manage. If you’ll help me.”

“Sure,” he said, changing direction, walking around to my door and opening it.

Collin would have argued. He would have insisted on a complete and exhaustive questioning of my physical capacity, and then he’d have gotten the wheelchair for me anyway. Because he knew best.

I used to think of that as him caring, and it was, but it was controlling, too. Ash simply believed me when I said that I could walk.

His arm was warm as I held onto it. He steadied my elbow with his hand, and the distance between us was only a few inches. I could feel the heat of his body in the cool air.

Once I was standing upright, Ash slid his arm around my waist, and together, we walked toward the diner.

It occurred to me that we probably looked like a couple, so much in love we couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second.

I wondered again what would happen to us when we arrived in Chicago.

Ash

“We’re here.”

I felt Laney’s small hand on my thigh, shaking me awake.

“We’re here,” she said again.

My whole body felt drugged with sleep, but then a sharp shot of adrenaline made me sit up straighter.

Chicago!

We’d made it.

I glanced out of the window at the wide city street and the first thing I saw was a police car. The headlights flashed once, and I saw the strain on Laney’s face.

“It’s my dad.”

Her tone wasn’t reassuring.

Laney’s door was ripped open and a cold gust of wind wound around us, whipping her long hair into her face. It was forty-five degrees cooler than the heat of the desert, but I liked it. I didn’t ever want to spend time in parched, arid air again.

Laney was already in her father’s arms while he looked her up and down, as if checking that each arm and leg was still attached.

I climbed out of the car stiffly and pushed my hands into my pockets, watching Laney and her father.

He didn’t look anything like her. He was tall and heavy, with a thick neck like a bull, bright red hair and rugged skin; not small and pale like his daughter. His eyes turned to me.

“Is that him?”

His tone was less than friendly, and Laney whispered something angrily that made him scowl. Then he jerked his head at another police officer who stepped forward abruptly, making me jerk back, slamming my back against the car door.

My vision dipped with the pain, and I guess my sudden movement freaked him out, because a second later, I was face down on the hood of the car, my cheekbone pressed painfully against the freezing metal. I swore, but couldn’t move as pain radiated across my stretched skin.

“Stop that right now, Billy Jenkins!” Laney shouted.

“It’s okay, Billy,” said Laney’s dad, “he won’t be so stupid as to try anything.”

My arm was released as suddenly as it had been grabbed. I stood up slowly, my heart pounding in reaction. I was tired and pissed, but Laney made me want to smile. She was facing down two big policemen, her small hands balled into fists.

“I can’t believe you two,” Laney glared, her voice furious. “He is
not
a criminal!”

Then she grabbed hold of my hand and marched us toward a tall brownstone building.

“Just for that you can carry our bags
and
my wheelchair, Billy Jenkins,” she shouted over her shoulder. “And then you can take the car back to Hertz.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, but allowed me to help her into the building, slowing only slightly as she used the handrail to pull herself up the six steps at the front.

I couldn’t help wondering how she managed them on her flare-up days.

I glanced over my shoulder, but her father didn’t try to stop us. He looked annoyed and a little confused, but he wasn’t going to argue with her either. Shaking his head, he fixed me with a hard stare. It was clear what he meant:
Fuck with my daughter and I’ll fuck with you.

“I’m sorry about that,” Laney said tightly as we waited for the elevator, ignoring her father’s angry snort. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, my eyes darting back to our police bodyguard.

“Have you been taking your meds?” Laney’s father asked in a gruff voice.

“Yes, Dad,” she said with a soft sigh.

We rode the elevator in silence, but I was surprised when Laney continued to hold my hand. Her father didn’t miss that detail either.

“Did you read my email?” she asked pointedly.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“We’ll talk inside.”

I glanced at Laney, wondering what was in the email, but she gave a small shake of her head.

Her apartment was small but not cluttered. A couch took up most of the room, although there was still enough space to navigate the area with a wheelchair. A heavy bookshelf was the other piece of furniture, lined with hardbacks and paperbacks, shot glasses and several framed photographs. I recognized a younger Laney with her two girlfriends; pictures that were probably of her family; and a heavy guy with his arm around her. I wondered why she kept a photo of her ex.

I turned toward the European-style French doors that led to a tiny balcony. The drapes were open, and the whole room was lit with the soft, orange glow of street lights below. But if you looked up, you could still see a patch of sky and a few scattered stars between the towering skyscrapers.

I understood about wanting to see more of life, wanting to see over the horizon.

Laney sank into an overstuffed easy chair, leaving me and her father to share the couch.

Instead, Laney’s father carried a hardback chair from the kitchen and placed it directly in front of me.

“Dad,” Laney said, her voice level and controlled. “He’s not a suspect, he’s my friend.”

I looked up quickly, meeting her eyes, and she gave me a conspiratorial smile that caused a vein to stand out on her father’s forehead.

“You don’t even know this man,” he objected strenuously.

“We’ve spent the last fifty-plus hours together in a very stressful situation,” Laney argued. “You’ve always said that you learn a lot about a person in extreme circumstances.”

Laney’s father looked annoyed to hear his own words thrown back at him. But he wasn’t giving up. In fact, I was certain he was only just starting.

“According to Immigration records, Aljaž Novak left the country a month ago. You have no idea who this man really is.”

“They took my passport,” I growled, starting to stand.

“Sit down!”

Laney’s dad barked out the command, but Laney stared angrily.

“Dad,” she said in a warning voice.

I glanced at her again before sitting on the edge of the couch, hot blood hammering through my body. Those fucking bastards! God knows who was using my passport. Hell, it could be anything, drugs, guns, people smuggling. I felt sick at the thought.

“He can’t prove who he is,” Laney’s father snapped.

“I can!” I spat out. “Go to the Slovene Dancesport Federation website—they’ll have my picture.”

Laney pulled out her phone and did a quick search, smiling when she immediately found my photograph, showing it to her father.

“Well,” he coughed. “That’s something. We can check the rest with your Embassy.”

“I’m not a liar,” I said angrily, staring right back at him.

Suddenly the front door swung open, making everyone jump.

The newcomer was the guy from the photograph. He was bigger than me, but whatever muscle he’d had was now lost in a large gut and two chins.

“Collin!” Laney’s mouth dropped open. “What are you doing here?”

He froze mid-step and glared at her.

“Are you serious?”

“I asked him to come,” said Laney’s father, a puzzled look on his face as he studied his daughter’s anger.

“I came because I care about you,” Collin said stiffly, his gaze shifting to me.

I tried to keep a neutral expression, but hell, after three seconds I could tell that the guy was a first class prick. Any man worthy of the name would have been on his knees with relief, telling Laney that he loved her and would kill anyone who hurt her, then move heaven and earth to be with her. Not standing there like he had a stick up his ass.
Douche
.

I liked swearing in American, and my vocabulary had grown since I’d roomed with Gary.

Assface. Dickwad. Douche canoe.

I leaned back and folded my arms, staring at Laney’s tool of a boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, or whatever the fuck he was.

Collin turned to look at Laney. “I thought I should be here after what you’ve been through. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m not,” she said coolly. “I have Ash.”

Laney’s father and the prick started shouting while I looked at Laney in surprise. Again.

“Well, where did you think he was going to stay?” she asked impatiently when the yelling had calmed a bit. “He can’t exactly check into a hotel.” Then she pinned her father with a fierce stare. “And please don’t tell me you were thinking of accommodating him in a cell for the night!”

“He’s not staying here!”

“He most certainly is!”

“But . . .”

“I’m not arguing about this, Dad.”

Her father jutted his chin out. “All the more reason for Collin to be here,” he grunted. “You’ve no idea what this man might . . .”

“We’ve just spent the last two days together,” Laney replied tersely. “Including sharing a hotel room last night. I think I know Ash pretty well by now.”

Collin was silent but his face turned bright red.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Laney sighed. “We didn’t sleep together!”

I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, drawing all eyes to me.

“Fine, we shared a bed because that was all the hotel had,” Laney confessed. “But that’s all!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Collin ground out.

“Neither is Ash,” Laney replied.

Her father coughed and looked at his watch.

“You both need to come in and make a statement about the gun incident . . .”

I felt a flare of anxiety. I still wasn’t sure I trusted the police.

“And about what happened to Ash,” Laney said quickly.

“Fine,” said her father, narrowing his eyes at me. “Be at the station at oh-nine hundred and . . .”

“Dad! It’s two in the morning! I’m going to sleep late, followed by a very long soak in the tub. Don’t expect us until after lunch, and don’t send anyone over because I won’t be answering the door.”

Her dad growled and huffed some more, but then he pulled her into a tight hug and muttered something in her ear that made Laney’s eyes turn glassy with tears.

“Love you, too, Dad. And don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her father left, and the three of us were alone.

Laney held up her hand as Collin started to speak.

“Collin, I’m tired and kind of pissed at you right now. I’m fairly sure that the last thing you said to me before I went to Las Vegas was ‘I’m done’.”

Yep, proved what I thought: Collin was a douche.

“I was angry,” Collin muttered.

“I already got the memo on that,” Laney shot back. Then she relented, rubbing her eyes until they were red. “Look, we’ll talk in the morning.”

“I’m staying,” he repeated, glaring at me.

“I’m too tired to argue with you. Fine, stay. You can help Ash make up the couch. You know where the clean sheets are.”

She stomped off through another door which I guessed led to the bedroom.

As soon as the door closed, Collin scowled at me.

“If you lay a finger on my girlfriend, I’ll . . .”

“She said you broke up.”

He stopped mid-sentence, looking irritated and uneasy.

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“She was very clear.”

“Just stay away from her! Or else!”

And he glared threateningly. I shook my head with amusement and disbelief.

“Man, I’ve been beaten up by Bratva and had a gun pushed in my face. But you? Laney has more balls than you. Or maybe you gave her yours. If you find them, let me know.”

Collin’s face turned purple and his lips peeled back from his teeth. If he was trying to look intimidating, he was failing. He just looked like a balloon that was about to burst.

“You punk! You think I’m going to let a slick operator like you into her life? I think you’re making it all up! There isn’t a mark on you!”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The prick was pretty damn funny. In fact, I was laughing so hard, I didn’t hear Laney come back into the room.

“What’s going on?”