stop, would that decision automatically make him a felon?
Blake didn’t know. But he knew that, even at sixteen, Erin hadn’t been easily intimidated. He couldn’t imagine her sitting quietly beside him as he headed off into the middle of Bumfuck mountain country. No matter how physically intimidating most of the population found Giant Blake Roberts of Vegas Ink , Erin would remember good old Blake from when they were kids. Back when he’d been a six-foot-two-inch beanpole with elbows bigger than his biceps who’d had his ass handed to him by their foster father on a weekly basis.
Erin would call his bluff. She would try to run, and if he didn’t want her leaping out of a moving vehicle to gain her freedom, he’d have to use the rope he’d packed in his trunk. Because she would do something like that. She’d always been wild, and from what he’d observed in the bar earlier tonight, she’d only gotten crazier with age.
Not that he was in a position to throw stones.
What he was planning was more than crazy. It was stupid, criminal, and could ruin the life he’d worked so hard to build. If he knew what was good for him, he’d start up his car and get the hell out of here right now.
Do not pass go, do not kidnap the only girl he’d ever loved, do not collect multiple felony charges.
“This is crazy. You realize that, right?” His best friend and business partner, Rafe, echoed Blake’s thoughts before taking a long pull on his flask. There was whiskey in there tonight, but Blake had decided to stick with a Coke while they staked out the staff parking lot of the bar from his car. No need to risk a DUI as well as abduction charges.
“You haven’t seen her in how long?” Rafe asked. “Six years?”
“Eight.”
Rafe exhaled, long and slow. “And she didn’t respond to any of your letters?”
His teeth ground together. “Nope.” Not with words anyway. Instead, she had ripped every letter into tiny pieces and mailed them back to his address in Vegas. She had responded, just not in a way that made him think she would be accommodating to what he wanted from her. What he needed from her whether she was willing to give it or not.
Blake wasn’t usually the type to take what he needed without permission, but for Erin, the girl who had broken his heart into a thousand razor-sharp pieces, he would make an exception.
Rafe grunted and took another swig from his flask. “But you still think it’s a good idea to show up where she works and ask her to go away for a long weekend so you can work on her tat?”
Blake nodded. “Yep.”
His friend laughed as he clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve lost it, man.”
If he only knew…
But Blake hadn’t told Rafe his real plans. No need to make his best friend an accessory to a felony and ruin two lives instead of one.
“Who knows? She might enjoy a little vacation,” Blake said, not believing the words even as he spoke them. “Or maybe I’ll be able to change her mind about the money. Fifteen grand isn’t chump change and she must need cash. Why else would she be working here?”
“Maybe she’s slumming.” Rafe shrugged as his dark eyes scanned the parking lot of the bar where they’d finally found Erin.
It wasn’t in a bad part of the greater Los Angeles area, but it was the raunchiest place still serving drinks in Pasadena. Most of the town had been converted into one big outdoor mall, purely PG stuff, but The Elbow Room had managed to stay open. Probably because it was the one place in the sleepy suburb where a man could still see some skin while he slammed back a few beers.
The oversize bar doubled as a stage for drunk college girls, looking to add their bras to the collection hanging from the ceiling, and the bartenders were scantily clad ex-porn stars from the Valley. They took turns dancing on the bar on nights when the coeds were hitting the books instead of the bars.
Except Erin. She wasn’t part of the porn scene. She was a
Blake didn’t know. But he knew that, even at sixteen, Erin hadn’t been easily intimidated. He couldn’t imagine her sitting quietly beside him as he headed off into the middle of Bumfuck mountain country. No matter how physically intimidating most of the population found Giant Blake Roberts of Vegas Ink , Erin would remember good old Blake from when they were kids. Back when he’d been a six-foot-two-inch beanpole with elbows bigger than his biceps who’d had his ass handed to him by their foster father on a weekly basis.
Erin would call his bluff. She would try to run, and if he didn’t want her leaping out of a moving vehicle to gain her freedom, he’d have to use the rope he’d packed in his trunk. Because she would do something like that. She’d always been wild, and from what he’d observed in the bar earlier tonight, she’d only gotten crazier with age.
Not that he was in a position to throw stones.
What he was planning was more than crazy. It was stupid, criminal, and could ruin the life he’d worked so hard to build. If he knew what was good for him, he’d start up his car and get the hell out of here right now.
Do not pass go, do not kidnap the only girl he’d ever loved, do not collect multiple felony charges.
“This is crazy. You realize that, right?” His best friend and business partner, Rafe, echoed Blake’s thoughts before taking a long pull on his flask. There was whiskey in there tonight, but Blake had decided to stick with a Coke while they staked out the staff parking lot of the bar from his car. No need to risk a DUI as well as abduction charges.
“You haven’t seen her in how long?” Rafe asked. “Six years?”
“Eight.”
Rafe exhaled, long and slow. “And she didn’t respond to any of your letters?”
His teeth ground together. “Nope.” Not with words anyway. Instead, she had ripped every letter into tiny pieces and mailed them back to his address in Vegas. She had responded, just not in a way that made him think she would be accommodating to what he wanted from her. What he needed from her whether she was willing to give it or not.
Blake wasn’t usually the type to take what he needed without permission, but for Erin, the girl who had broken his heart into a thousand razor-sharp pieces, he would make an exception.
Rafe grunted and took another swig from his flask. “But you still think it’s a good idea to show up where she works and ask her to go away for a long weekend so you can work on her tat?”
Blake nodded. “Yep.”
His friend laughed as he clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve lost it, man.”
If he only knew…
But Blake hadn’t told Rafe his real plans. No need to make his best friend an accessory to a felony and ruin two lives instead of one.
“Who knows? She might enjoy a little vacation,” Blake said, not believing the words even as he spoke them. “Or maybe I’ll be able to change her mind about the money. Fifteen grand isn’t chump change and she must need cash. Why else would she be working here?”
“Maybe she’s slumming.” Rafe shrugged as his dark eyes scanned the parking lot of the bar where they’d finally found Erin.
It wasn’t in a bad part of the greater Los Angeles area, but it was the raunchiest place still serving drinks in Pasadena. Most of the town had been converted into one big outdoor mall, purely PG stuff, but The Elbow Room had managed to stay open. Probably because it was the one place in the sleepy suburb where a man could still see some skin while he slammed back a few beers.
The oversize bar doubled as a stage for drunk college girls, looking to add their bras to the collection hanging from the ceiling, and the bartenders were scantily clad ex-porn stars from the Valley. They took turns dancing on the bar on nights when the coeds were hitting the books instead of the bars.
Except Erin. She wasn’t part of the porn scene. She was a
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