Carolina King (Drive Me Wild Book 2) (8 page)

We didn’t put Mack’s new kitchen to use; there wasn’t anything in his refrigerator except beer and leftover takeout containers. Instead we went out for breakfast. We got into his Ford Shelby and drove to a place not far from his house and right near the Key City ferry dock. In fact, Mack’s house was just a little farther down the bay. It was walking distance on a nice day, however, he wasn’t the kind of guy you would see taking a twenty-minute morning stroll into town.

Mack seemed distracted during the entire drive. He was constantly checking his rearview mirror and even turned almost fully in his seat to have a good look around when we’d reached a stoplight.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, unable to ignore how nervous he was making me feel.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said before shifting the car into gear and taking off as soon as the light turned green.

When we reached the restaurant, he asked the waitress to seat us in a booth away from the window, and Mack sat opposite of me so that he faced the room. I attempted to make small talk after we ordered our food, but he seemed disinterested and only gave short answers, so I stopped talking. I noticed the way his eyes would catch sight of something and stare for a long moment before he would focus his attention back on me. We ate in silence, and the food was tasteless to me. This wasn’t the man I’d just spent the last twelve hours with. It was hard not to feel like I was the reason for his behavior. Was he worried that we’d be seen together? While I was mostly sure that wasn’t the case, part of me couldn’t discount the idea completely, so I decided to get it out in the open.

After putting down my fork, I took a sip of my orange juice, then another sip before I felt my voice rise to the surface, and I cleared my throat.

“Mack . . .” That’s when his phone rang.

“It’s about time,” he barked into the phone and turned his face away. “Did you get my text? Yeah . . . All morning . . . How the hell am I supposed to know?” The conversation continued with one-sided answers, and I had no clue what he was talking about. When the waitress arrived with the bill, Mack threw some cash on the table and grabbed my hand as we exited the restaurant. He motioned for me to get into the car while he walked a few feet away, lit a cigarette, and paced while talking on his phone and looking around.

Crossing my arms, I rested back against the seat and waited. The car was immaculate. The leather seats were polished, the chrome shined, and not a speck of dirt on the floors. I ran my fingers along the smooth contours of the dash admiring the beauty of the car, and that’s when the glove box popped open and out poured a pile of colorful material. It took my brain several seconds to comprehend that a mountain of panties just fell onto my lap. Red, black, white, and turquoise panties were everywhere, but what really caught my attention were the pale pink satin panties I thought I’d lost at the hotel. Feeling enraged, I shoved them all to the ground. I pulled open the door and stormed over to Mack, waving my stolen panties at him.

“What the fuck, Mack!” I screamed. He whirled around, his eyes growing wide as he watched me approach. Then his stare went to what I was holding in my hand, and his face went pale. He said something quickly into the phone and then ended the call.

“Jonna, hang on a minute. I—”

“Collect panties like some kind of perv?”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“Okay, so do you wear women’s panties then?” My voice reached a higher octave as I tried not to go into hysterics.
Oh God please say no. Please don’t let him be into wearing women’s underwear.

“Fuck no,” he shot back and actually had the nerve to look offended.

“Well, if you feel insulted by that imagine, how I feel finding my panties hanging out with a group of other panties. So I’ll repeat. What the fuck, Mack?”

He ran a hand over his face and stared at the ground, then he mumbled something I didn’t hear.

“What?” I said, wanting him to repeat himself.

“It’s a superstition thing,” he said a little louder.

“Explain.” I put a hand on my hip and tapped my foot expectantly.

“It was something stupid Brando and I started doing. We were young and getting our first taste of women. At first the panties were a bragging thing. We couldn’t keep them in the house because our mother would find them, so we started keeping them in the glove box of our cars. When I first got the old Shelby it was all I had, so I drove it every day and raced with it. Except it wasn’t very fast. Then without thinking I put a pair of panties in there one night after a hookup and won a race that night. Brando is superstitious so he had me convinced that it was the reason I’d won. So after that I kept collecting them, and I kept winning.”

“That is ridiculous and disgusting, Mack.” His head snapped back as if I’d smacked him, but he didn’t say anything. “Maybe the reason you won is because you are good at what you do, not because of how many women you’ve fucked. This is juvenile and uncool. Ugh.” I threw my panties at his chest and stormed off. He didn’t call after me, and I didn’t look behind me as I walked straight to the ferry dock. Several minutes later, I heard the roar of his car engine as he drove away.

What an asshole.

I stood there for a while looking at the colorful pieces of fabric blowing around on the street and thought about Mack. He put on a cool and cocky façade, but inside he had insecurities. I remembered his comment about the way I looked at him like he was special, and I was guessing no one ever looked at him that way. It made my heart ache for him so much that I found myself walking in the direction of his house.

When I arrived his car was in the driveway, so I walked up the front stairs and opened the door. It was quiet inside, and I listened for any noise that might indicate where he could be. I walked through the great room and caught movement out of the corner of my eye on the back deck. Mack was leaning over the railing, staring at the ferry as it sailed away in the distance. I slid the glass door open, and he turned, looking a bit startled. When he saw that it was me his shoulders visibly relaxed.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would have been long gone by now?” He pushed away from the railing and moved to sit on one of the lounge chairs.

“How come you didn’t come after me?” I asked quietly. “Did you want me to leave?”

Mack stared at me for a moment and then replied, “No,” in a low voice as he looked away.

“Then why did you let me go?” I repeated, and he shrugged. With a sigh, I walked to stand in front of him. “Do you want me to stay?” His eyes shot to me instantly.

“Yes.”

“Fine. I’ll stay,” I said as I lowered myself and straddled his lap. His arms instantly wrapped around me.

“Thank you for coming back, Firefly,” he whispered against my neck.

“Why do you call me that, Mack?” There was silence for a long time. I felt him inhaling and exhaling against the side of my neck.

“You bring light to my darkness,” he murmured against my skin, and I held him tighter.

****

Mack never did tell me what was bothering him earlier, but he was adamant it wasn’t me. He didn’t want me to leave for work that evening, so I’d gotten Carina to cover my shift. It felt like he was used to people leaving, and all I wanted was to stay with him, for as long as he wanted me. I insisted on cooking dinner in his unused kitchen and after a trip to the grocery store, I baked lasagna and tossed together a salad. His phone rang several times throughout the evening, and he would go out on the back deck to talk. His actions worried me, and I knew he would never tell me what was wrong. It made me feel helpless, not that there was anything I could do, most likely, but I wanted to be there for him anyway.

After dinner, we couldn’t decide what to do. Neither of us seemed in the mood to watch a movie on television, so instead we got into Mack’s car and sped down the empty back roads for a while, both of us enjoying the thrill. We felt alone in the world that was illuminated by only a pair of headlights. I always thought that Mack King was sexy, but seeing the way he handled his car at high speeds first hand, with sharp focus on the road as he shifted gears, was hot.

And when we pulled back into the garage it was late. As the heavy door closed behind us with a clunk, our eyes met. When I smiled over at him, he reached out and wound a finger into one of my curls. God, he was gorgeous. His dark eyes were clear with intent as he stared at me. He wanted me. I licked my bottom lip, feeling the exact same way. I would never get used to the power he had to own my body with just one glance.

“There’s that look again,” Mack said, then leaned over and kissed me hungrily before we hurried upstairs to his bedroom. After worshipping every part of my body for what seemed like hours, he finally slipped inside of me and whispered, “God, Jonna. Never stop looking at me that way.” Then he placed his lips on mine as we came together, moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Excuse me, miss. What’s the time?” It was the same elderly gentleman who’d been coming in here every night for a week. He always stopped me to ask the time, and it was quite annoying. And to make things worse, he really wasn’t as old as I’d first thought, once I really studied him. He was a short man with a head full of gray hair, and glasses. He usually wore a tan-colored jacket and dark slacks, and stared at the newspaper for hours. Odd behavior for a man in a crowded bar full of people drinking and laughing.

“Um . . .” I pulled out my phone and glanced at it. “It’s nine thirty. No, wait, nine twenty-seven,” I corrected myself, hating that Carina’s scolding actually made sense to me.

“So do you have any plans on taking the ferry over to see your boyfriend in Key City tonight?” he called after me.

“What?” I whirled around and narrowed my eyes as I stepped closer to him. His tight smile stretched across his wrinkled face, and the knowing look in his eyes made me instantly uncomfortable. “What are you talking about?” I repeated.

“King. You’re seeing him aren’t you?”

“Whaa . . .?” I didn’t know how to respond. How would this guy know anything about me and Mack? No one else in my life knew besides Tayia and Blake.

“Look, you seem like a nice girl, so I’m going to strongly advise you to steer clear of him.” My mouth dropped opened while the man stood up. “Just so you know he’s currently under investigation, so if you choose to hitch your wagon to his star, you’ll see me again real soon.” With a wink he folded the newspaper in his hand, and then tucked it under his arm before he made his way to the door.

“Who was that guy, and why do you look like someone just ran over your cat?” Harley asked from behind me. I knew I couldn’t tell her. She would wonder why he was talking to me about Mack. She still didn’t know anything about us, and I wasn’t sure how to tell her that I was falling for her ex-boyfriend. I realized I felt this way last night while Mack made slow love to me with our eyes locked and hands entwined. It was almost comical how I thought in the beginning that I’d be able to avoid feeling that way for him.

“Jonna?” Harley’s voice brought me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, nothing. He was asking me about the time and random stuff I wasn’t paying much attention to.” I waved a hand dismissively and walked past her. Thankfully she didn’t ask me anymore about it, and we finished up the rest of the night as usual.

****

“Fuck! It was Rollins,” Mack shouted on the other end of the phone. As soon as I’d gotten to my apartment, I immediately called him and told him about the guy from the restaurant.

“Rollins?” I asked as I sat down on my bed, my aching feet begging for a break.

“Detective Rollins,” he answered, sounding grim.

“Detective!” I shrieked and shot up again.

“Yeah.” Mack let out a long breath. “I don’t want you to worry about it, okay? He’s been following me and Brando around for months. Digging in my trash cans and bothering people who know me. If he had something he would have acted already. For now I think he gets off being a pain in my ass.”

“But, Mack, what are you going to do? His interests aren’t made up. I’m sure he’s building something against you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“How can I not?”

“Jonna, I’ll take care of it.”

“But what if—”

“Like I said, I’ll handle it.” He cut me off. “Just don’t talk to him anymore, and if you see him, steer clear. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course but I—”

“Good, can you take off tomorrow night, and I’ll come pick you up? I miss you.” And just like that the worry was pushed aside as my heart fluttered at the mention of him missing me.

He was right about Rollins, a few nights later he showed up again at the restaurant, and I ignored him. Mama even noticed that I’d been ignoring his table.

“That is a payin’ customer, Jonna Lee.”

“Mama, I’m busy. It’s not my fault Carina can’t keep up with her share of tables. Either you tell her to get faster, or I’m going to quit.” I threw a false tantrum I knew would cause her to leave me alone, and it worked. Every time I looked at Detective Rollins his eyes were on me, and dread gathered in the pit of my stomach.

Later that night on the way up to my apartment I heard voices coming from the side of the building near the stairs. I peeked around the corner to see my brother Woody and Rollins talking in low tones. Woody was nodding his head, and Rollins patted him on the side of his arm before walking away.

Anger rose to my cheeks, and before I even knew what I was doing I was storming over to Woody.

“What are you doing talking to the cops?” I threw my head into the direction Rollins went. Woody stared at me for a second, clearly confused.

“Wait, how do you know that was a cop?” He squinted at me and crossed his arms.

“Come on, Woody. I’m not stupid. I know that was a cop.” I decided to just keep my accusation strong and hope he didn’t question me further about it. “Why were you talking to him?”

“None of your business,” he barked and started to turn away. I grabbed his arm and turned him back to me.

“Fine, don’t tell me, but I’m sure Mama and Daddy will want to know why when I tell them.” Woody stopped struggling against my hand.

“You would tell them, too. God, you’re such a pain in the ass.” He huffed, walked two steps away, kicked a rock, and then walked back to me. “He was just asking me some questions.”

“About?” I crossed my arms and tapped my foot impatiently. Woody glared at me for a long time.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to say anything, Jonna.”

“Woody . . .”

“I’m serious. A lot of shit is riding on it.” I considered his request for a moment. I didn’t want to agree to keep a secret, especially from Mack, but I wanted Woody to tell me.

“Fine,” I agreed, knowing there was no way I would keep my promise.

“You’re full of shit, so I’ll add this in to sweeten the pot. I know about the restraining order against Travis Frye. I don’t know how you managed to keep it from Mama and Pop, but I’ll make sure they know and you can say good-bye to your little apartment.”

“God, you’re such a tool, Woody.”

“Do we have a deal or not?”

“Fine.”

When Woody seemed satisfied, he told me that he’d been approached by Rollins that night. Woody had a court date in a month for racing and driving on a suspended license. It was his third offense, so he was almost certain to go to jail for at least a year. Nobody knew about the tickets and all of the trouble it had caused him, not our parents or Drew. Rollins told him he would make the jail time go away if he told him what he knew about Mack. What sort of things he was involved in including where and when races were scheduled.

“And you agreed to it! Woody, how could you?” I wailed, unable to believe that Woody was willing to snitch.

“What? You would rather I go to jail? I thought it was a sweet deal, and since when do you give a shit about Mack King?”

I put my hand to my face and rubbed my cheeks repeatedly. My first thought was that Woody had gotten himself in trouble so he should suffer the consequences of that, even if it meant jail time. But then I thought about how Mack was also making trouble for himself by being involved in illegal activity. Didn’t he also deserve to go to prison? God, I hated feeling like this, but I knew in my heart that I’d rather my own brother be the one to get locked up, not Mack. I was a horrible person.

“I guess you have to do what you have to do.” I felt all the energy drain from my body, and my voice sounded weak. I didn’t wait for a reply from Woody. I went up the stairs, dropped onto my bed, and cried myself to sleep. How could I tell Mack that my own brother was a willing participant in building Rollins’s case against him, one that would probably put him away for a long time?