Page 93 of Simon Says

And Marvin realized that the cops might notice them if they drove crazy. That helped him regain his control, and he retreated to his seat in the back of the SUV.

“I’m bleedin’ again,” the other man accused in a whine as he rubbed his sleeve over his ear. He snuffled and hunched his shoulders, and cast a wary eye into the backseat at Marvin.

Jesus, Marvin thought. He hated gutless sheep who couldn’t take a hit. No one ever stood up to him. No one ever dared.

Except Dakota.

She’d not only stood up to him, she’d kicked him in the face, left him, divorced him….

His rage burned bright again, and he burst out, “Fucking idiot, I didn’t know he was a fighter, now did I? He’s a long-haired freak in a band. He plays a goddamned guitar.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Marv.”

“Shut up.” Marvin shoved himself into the corner of the vehicle, staring blindly out the window, stewing over his anger, and remembering.

He knew he’d grown obsessed over Dakota, but she was the most elusive woman he’d ever known. The longer he went without her, the more he wanted her. Over and over in his mind, he remembered his last night with her.

How she’d fought him.

How he’d taken her anyway.

His breath hitched in stirring excitement. He wanted to taste her again. Heneededto feel her under him, struggling, cursing….

But she’d moved on to other men. Too many other men. Tonight, while he’d lurked in the shadows, anonymous and unnoticed, Dakota had joined the band onstage. As if she no longer feared anyone or anything, she’d strutted her stuff in one hell of a show.

He’d seen every little detail. The flex of her strong thigh muscles accentuated by the clinging dress. The bead of sweat that ran down her chest and between her tits. How her long hair danced around those too-proud shoulders.

She’d deliberately made him wild to have her back.

With a sound of disgust, the driver interrupted Marvin’s thoughts, saying, “I should have gigged that fucking musician for busting my jaw.”

Marvin barely managed to keep the reins on his temper. “I don’t want him dead, you asshole.” His hands tightened into fists and he continued to stare out the window. “The cops will blow off a mugging, especially outside a bar. But a murder’s altogether different. They won’t let that go without a lot of digging. And I don’t need that kind of hassle right now.”

No, all he needed was Dakota back where she belonged. With him, tied to him, where he could control her. Thanks to Barnaby’s cowardice, he’d found her again. He wouldn’t let her get away this time.

That fantasy redirected his anger and gave him time to think.

To lessen their odds of being caught, they’d driven to Harmony separately, then hooked up to ride together to the bar. They hadn’t used his car—he wasn’t stupid. If anyone caught the license plates, they wouldn’t lead to him and neither of his cronies had the cojones to point the finger at him.

They knew he’d kill without remorse.

The driver pulled over to the crowded convenience store so Marvin could reclaim his sports car. He got out, but instead of walking away, he tapped on the passenger-side window of the SUV.

Still holding his bleeding ear and looking pathetic, his friend rolled down the window.

Marvin gave him a friendly slap on the face. “Go home. No bars, no women. I mean it. I don’t want either of you to fuck around or get into any trouble.”

“All right.”

Nodding, Marvin said, “You did good. Thanks.”

Both men grinned at him, grabbing at the small token of appreciation like starving dogs.

His smile frozen, Marvin walked away before he got sick. Or enraged.

Once in his own car, he dialed his cell phone. Barnaby answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

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