Chapter 13
There’s Nothing Holding Me Back
Gemma
SOMETHING CALLS TO me.
Sounds.
Smells.
A feeling.
Familiarities I find too attractive to fight.
Ignoring the open door, I breeze right past Caleb. I just need to break from his inscrutable gaze and the moral feelings he’s stirring inside me.
I remind myself that I don’t need morality.
I need revenge.
When Caleb’s no longer in my scope of vision, I stop and stare straight ahead. The familiar sight almost makes the corners of my mouth quirk up. Almost.
The entrance to the Santa Monica Pier is right there, and an urge I can’t deny myself takes over my body. One I couldn’t control even if I tried. I want its safe haven. I want to run to it—to the comfort it once used to bring.
My legs start moving, and even in my heels I can feel my speed. The wind is blowing in my hair, and I’m so close to my salvation that I can smell the musty wood and the salt in the air.
Then suddenly I’m not running anymore. My feet aren’t even touching the ground. Rather, strong arms are enveloping me and with a quick twist of my body, I’m being hoisted over Caleb Holt’s shoulder.
“What the hell?” I yell.
“No more fucking around. We have to get out of here,” he says, his voice cracking at the edges with what sounds like irritation.
“Put me down,” I order, pounding my fists against his back.
He doesn’t flinch as he strides down the sidewalk and quickly opens the passenger front door. When he gently sets me down on the seat, his body is dangerously close to mine, but still, he doesn’t move away.
For a long moment the only sound in the car is our labored breathing. I stare at him, at the squareness of his chin, the strong chiseled nose that I can tell must have been broken more than once, the scar that mars the side of his face, and finally into his emerald green eyes. The same ones that are staring right back at me. Everything about him bleeds concern, and as if we’re having a silent exchange of words, he tells me he wants to keep me safe.
I don’t want anything from anyone, and I don’t need to be kept safe.
“You can’t touch me like that,” I snap. “Enrique would be furious if he knew.”
Caleb ignores my comment. “He’d be more furious if he knew you deliberately put yourself in harm’s way.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Right, keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
Deflated, I say nothing. The faceoff is over. Silence beats for a second too long and all I can do is stare at him.
“Just stay put,” he snarls, his eyes continuing to bore into mine, this time as a warning.
I can’t move even if I want to, and I can’t look away from him, either. It’s like I’m under a spell. His spell.
Slamming the door, he darts across the front of the car and slides in behind the wheel. I’m still watching him. I stare at him as he jams the key into the ignition and starts the engine. Then he floors the gas, pulling away from the curb at lightning speed with the sound of the wheels burning rubber beneath us.
I continue to say nothing. Still shocked that he practically tossed me in the car. Still shocked that I let him. More shocked that I liked it.
He drives fast, finding the nearest freeway entrance. It’s not until he’s cruising along the inner lane that he looks over at me. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that about?” he demands roughly.
I blink at him, slowly shifting my eyes away and struggling not to break as I try to understand for myself what just took place.
Breathing in deeply and willing any emotion threatening to surface away, I search deep to be able to speak as evenly as possible. “I’m, I’m . . . not sure,” is all I can manage.
He speeds up so he can weave in and out of traffic. “Those guys aren’t the kind of people you have business with, so who the fuck are they?”
I shake my head, saying nothing because I still can’t push the ball of tears down my throat.
Breaking me from the brink of hysteria is the sound of my cell phone ringing through the car’s Bluetooth system and the name Enrique flashing across the dashboard screen.
With a deep breath, I reach across to the steering wheel and my shaky fingers press the answer key. “Hello.” I wipe the stray tear away that I couldn’t stop from falling.
“Gemma, were you able to secure the paintings for me?” His voice is cold. He’s still mad.
I can feel Caleb’s eyes on me. If I tell Enrique what happened, Caleb will undoubtedly be fired.
In my mind I know that is what I should do, but in my heart, I can’t. The thought of not having him around now that Enrique is bordering on madness makes my chest feel like two fists unfolding.
I don’t understand the draw I have toward him or my need to protect him. All I know is his presence has breathed a semblance of life back into my body and I don’t want to lose that feeling. I can’t allow it to vanish just yet. So I answer with what is the truth, just not the whole truth. “No, the broker wasn’t there, however I was able to secure his information.”
“Where is he?”
“In Baja.”
“Where in Baja?” Enrique asks, slightly annoyed that I didn’t just let him know the exact location to begin with.
“San Quintin,” I tell him.
“That’s five hours away.”
“I have his number,” I let him know.
He sighs. “I’m sure you know the broker undoubtedly won’t discuss the transaction over the phone.”
“Yes, I figured as much.”
“You’ll need to take your security detail and make a trip down there. I’ve had to extend my time away, anyway. Penelope decided to join me with the kids, so I won’t be back until later in the week. You should plan to leave first thing in the morning. That gives you a few days to make contact and seal the deal. I’d like you to return to Oceanside by Thursday afternoon.”
Caleb guns the engine. I try to keep my eyes on the road but the sudden movement causes them to drift over to him. With gritted teeth, he has one hand on the steering wheel and the other thumping against the smooth leather of the console between us. He weaves in between cars and then pulls all the way over to a rest stop overlooking the Pacific.
The voice over the speaker rings out. “Gemma, did you hear me?”
“Yes. Yes, I heard you. I’m sorry we must have a bad connection.”
“I have to go but take the checkbook I left on the desk for you. Whatever it costs, I don’t care. I want those paintings.”
“I understand, Enrique.”
“And Gemma,” he whispers.
My stomach knots at the tone of his voice. “Yes?”
“Buy yourself something sexy that you know I’ll like while you’re there. And make sure it’s white. I’ll send word as to when you should be ready for me.”
I swallow, trying not to choke on the embarrassment rising up my throat. “Yes, of course.”
And just like that, the line is dead. Orders given, no need for niceties or goodbyes. So true to form for Enrique Cruz, especially as of late, and even more so when he’s upset with me.
Then again, I gave up caring about his lack of attention to anything but himself the day I decided it was time to turn the tables—so why did it burn so much now?
Caleb hits the end button on the steering wheel and we both remain silent in the parked car.
Then suddenly he opens his door and bolts out of the car. I watch him move to the back and kick the toe of his black work boot in the stones as he walks in circles. After a few minutes, I exit the car and step toward the overlook to gaze out toward the calm of the sea. I don’t hear him approach, but I can feel his presence behind me before he speaks.
“We need to get a few things straight,” he says, his voice void of any emotion.
I wheel around. “And what would those be?” I ask tersely.
“First of all, I’m here to protect you. I’m not your driver and I’m sure as shit not your babysitter.”
My babysitter.
My babysitter!
My jaw hangs open. Is this arrogant badass of a man for real?
“Second,” he sneers, “I’d appreciate it if I didn’t have to listen to your personal calls while I’m driving. Take him off speaker from now on.”
A red flush creeps up my neck, and that I agree with him on.
“Third, you need to listen to me. I want you to stop ignoring me and do what I tell you to do.”
Fire and ice, in equal measure, soar through my veins. “Are you finished?” I ask, my eyes filling with anger.
He shoves his hands into his pockets and the flexing movement of his biceps momentarily distracts me.
I blink away the sight of his sexy body and focus on my rebuttal. With my finger pointed, I press it into his hard, muscular chest and ignore the searing feeling at my fingertip. “Now, it’s my turn.”
He cocks a brow.
Ignoring his egotistical response, I say, “First, I am not a child. You cannot manhandle me whenever you want.”
His brow rises even higher.
Pressing my finger deeper into the muscular wall of his chest, I finally allow my eyes to meet his. “Second, you cannot tell me what to do. You can ask me nicely and I will decide whether or not to listen to you.”
Breaking the connection, Caleb steps back.
I follow, poking his chest once more. “And finally, by me not informing Enrique about the situation you let me walk into, I just saved you from getting fired. You could show a little bit of appreciation.”
His head is down and he slowly raises his eyes before lifting his chin. The smirk on his face makes my heart go haywire, jackhammering everywhere. But when a chuckle leaves his throat, I’m more than shocked. “You’re a piece of work.”
I press my finger as hard as I can into him. “This isn’t a joke. I’m dead serious.”
He snatches my wrist to remove my finger from his body. The rough edges of his callouses send tingles up my arm all the way to my scalp. “I know you are.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“For now,” is all he says before he turns and walks toward the car.
I keep my feet planted right where they are. I watch him as he throws open my door and then strides around to the driver's side and gets in. I stand here stunned at what just happened. That wasn’t a conversation. Nothing was solved, and yet I think we’ve settled our issues. Those ones, anyway.
Now I want to shout, “Don’t you remember me?” and at the same time I want to cry, “How can you not remember me?”
I do neither, because you know what they say about opening Pandora’s box.
Impatient, he beeps the horn and again my mouth drops open. He is unbelievable. I take my time walking to the SUV and when I get in, I slam the door closed. “You know what, how about you don’t talk to me or even look at me.”
Chewing on his lip, he says nothing.
Exasperated, I huff, “Take me home. And I’m sure you heard, you’re expected back in the morning.”
He has his sunglasses on and he lowers them slightly. “Oh, I heard. Now, sit back and don’t forget to buckle up.”
After everything, he’s still ordering me around, and the elephant between us is only growing larger.
It’s going to be a long week.