by Lora Leigh
But, as her husband had warned her, Chase Falladay had a reason to care, and here he was.
Her husband had also warned her that if Chase did show up, then they all needed to be very frightened.
"I'd just like to talk to you a moment, Kia." His voice was like smooth, rich brandy. It curled over the senses and reminded her, no matter how much she wished otherwise, that she was still a woman, and a voice like his was guaranteed to get a response.
"As if I'm not perfectly aware of what you want to talk about." She stepped aside as he moved into the apartment, his tall, hard body somehow at odds with the stark atmosphere that surrounded him now.
She turned and led the way from the wide foyer to the living room, tossing him a glare over her shoulder. Drew, her soon-to-be ex-husband, had called her the day before, warning her to expect a visit from the goon squad.
The son of a bitch. Fury rose inside her like a vicious flood; it filled her with betrayal and anger, it stamped a trembling sneer on her face as Chase Falladay stepped into the room.
"Kia, I don't want to battle with you." He turned to her, staring back at her, as though he understood, as though he were compassionate. "It seems to me that you've been through enough."
"Then why are you here?" Her lips trembled as she let herself meet his cool, light green eyes.
They pierced her, had her throat thickening with the gentleness in them.
"Can we sit down?" He motioned to the chairs.
Kia sat down warily, watching as he took the chair across from her, their knees nearly touching, his gaze brooding and heavy as he watched her.
"Drew told you about the club," he finally stated softly.
Kia flinched and looked away. Like the bastard had a choice.
She licked her lips nervously and turned back to him.
"Did he tell you what he did, too?"
"He didn't, but others have. I'll tell you, his membership is being investigated. He's facing losing it, as well as a hefty deposit he paid. But there's more at risk here than the deposit he could lose, or his membership. The risk, Kia, is in the gossip, which came from you, which is now spreading through Alexandria."
She tightened her lips. "Do you think I wanted that damned gossip?" She came to her feet in a rush of anger. "It seems I can't trust my husband, nor the few friends I believed I had. And now, you're here?" She waved her hand at the room. His presence was the ultimate betrayal. "What are you going to do, Chase? Kill me for it?"
According to Drew the secret of the club had been maintained for more than a century. Until she told a friend what he had told her the night he and his friend tried to rape her.
She pushed her fingers through her shoulder-length blond hair before shaking her head wearily at his patient look. Chase was never ruffled. He was always calm.
"You're not denying the gossip," he pointed out.
Hell no she hadn't. She had thought she could let her husband strangle beneath the weight of it, hoping he twisted in agony as all eyes turned to him. She had thought she could. How wrong she
had been.
"Two of your members tried to rape me, in my own home, Chase," she informed him bitterly.
"And you're here to what? Berate me because I told a friend and she spread the rumor of all those little perverts you protect?"
He sat back in his chair, his arms lying comfortably on the heavily cushioned arms as he stared back at her. Those eyes, they seemed to sink into a woman, made her soften, made her want to please him. What a dangerous talent for a man's eyes to possess.
"You're not denying the rumor," he stated again.
"Neither am I upholding it," she argued.
He watched her carefully, silence stretching between them as she paced back to her chair and sat down wearily.
Her father was pacing at home, she knew. He had called that morning, torn between loyalty to his daughter and the knowledge he had just learned, that his entire life, the holdings four generations of Rutherfords had possessed, could come crashing to his feet. All because of Drew.
Because he had dared to threaten her with that club, and when she had spilled all her hurt and anger to the person she believed was a friend, it had begun to spread.
"My father called," she finally said. "He's received phone calls from major stockholders." She knew this game. She had been born and raised within the dirty little social set that thrived on power and threats. "Drew was right, wasn't he? You have enough power to destroy all of us."
"Kia, I'm here to help you," he promised her.
"Yes, of course you are, how could I have ever believed otherwise?" she stated tearfully, mockingly. "What do you want me to do, Chase, take out an ad in the newspapers that I lied?
That Drew never brought in a third from your damned club and tried to rape me?" Her voice rose in humiliation and pain. "Tell them he never threatened to destroy me with the power that club wields? Did you bring a list of the papers? Should I stand on the street corner and proclaim it to the world?"
The tears didn't fall, but they wanted to. She wanted to sob in fury.
"I want you to call your friend and tell her the club doesn't exist. That you were trying to hurt Drew. When you're asked about the club or anything he told you concerning it, I want you to deny he ever mentioned it. You didn't give names, Kia. At this point, it's all speculation based on the few single members known to share their lovers. Help me fix this now, and I'll make certain you're protected."
She gave a very unladylike snort. "And how will you do that, Mr. Falladay?"
"Will you trust me, Kia?" He leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees as he watched her.
"Will you trust me to keep my word? That you'll be protected, not just in any retaliation against Drew, but from Drew as well?"
The bruise at the side of her face burned.
"I don't know what you mean."
"There's not enough makeup in the world to hide that mark on your face, or the fear in your eyes, Kia. I don't want to add to that. No one is going to hurt you physically. Drew will never touch you again, period. When the time comes, he'll pay for what he's done to you, just as he'll pay for using the club to attempt to threaten you into a relationship you didn't want."
She stared back at him in shock.
"Why would you do that?"
His expression hardened. "Kia, we're not just a club filled with members who share an agreement on a lifestyle. That club, that power base and that protection, wasn't created for its members alone. It was created for their women."
She shook her head. That didn't make sense. None of it did. "I'm divorcing him, though."
Something flared in his eyes, something she didn't dare delve into too closely. Something that had her tensing, reminding her of long dark nights and fantasies she didn't dare think about.
"It doesn't matter. He and another member hurt you. He bruised you, Kia, and he frightened you. And that isn't tolerated. Trust me. Work with me, and before you know it, Drew, and the pain, will be behind you."
It wasn't such a large request, and
she knew it. The gossip would truly never be squelched but it would never be considered more than an amusing tale without her backing.
She looked down, staring at the toes of her very stylish shoes that matched her very tasteful silk dress and wished she had worn her jeans instead.
Her world was exploding around her—what did this matter? And what did his request matter? It was for her benefit as well as that damned club's.
"I'll take care of it." She lifted her chin and shrugged as though it didn't matter. "I never should have lied about Drew. What he did was bad enough." Humiliation flamed through her. "Perhaps I was just trying to excuse him."
Anger flickered in his gaze with such a rush of intense light that it surprised her.
"Perhaps the friend so determined to tell the tales put her own lies to the story?" he suggested quietly, his voice hard.
To that, Kia shook her head. "No. I'll take the blame. I trusted her. That was my mistake. I'll deal with it."
Chase watched her, so vulnerable, her hair covering her face, hiding the tears he knew must be filling her eyes. Coming here had been the hardest decision he had ever made. It was the only time he had regretted fulfilling this part of his job as Ian's private investigator and the first defense against society's knowledge of what the club actually was.
Wounding this woman's pride made him feel like a damned animal.
"Kia." He whispered her name gently, the urge to take her into his arms, to hold her against him, to shelter her from that pain almost impossible to resist.
When her head lifted, he saw her eyes. Bright blue, damp with tears, but fierce with pride and with anger.
"Why did he do it?" she suddenly asked. "Why try to get me drunk and rape me? Why not just ask me?"
He would beat that explanation out of the bastard.
All he could do now was shake his head. "I don't know. But a divorce is the least of what he deserves from it. And demand a high settlement. I promise, you'll get it." He would make certain she received it for this blow to her pride.
"Why do you do it?" she asked him then, her expression vulnerable, a need for answers swirling in her eyes.
She made him feel like a bastard with that look.
He reached out to her, touched the hair that framed her face, and tried to smile back at her. "For the pleasure, Kia. For my lover's pleasure. For my own. Only the pleasure. And there's no pleasure in rape or in humiliation." He dropped his hand from the soft, warm silk of her hair and rose to his feet, staring down at her.
"There was no pleasure in what they tried to do to me." Her voice was choked with anger and with pain.
Chase nodded slowly, his expression tightening, anger pulling at him. "And he'll find no pleasure in the consequences of it, Kia. I promise you that. Help me fix that, and I'll make him pay, for you."
He left then. He couldn't stand there any longer and watch the tears fall from those sapphire eyes or see the evidence of that bruise on her face any longer.
He'd begin the process to take Carl Drew Stanton out of the club, and he'd do it as painfully for the other man as possible.
And one of these days, he swore, he'd show that son of a bitch how it felt to be backhanded across the face. And he'd add a punch just for the sheer pleasure of it. If he weren't careful, once he got started on the spineless little bastard he might not stop.
Drew Stanton had backhanded his pretty, delicate wife, and Chase wanted to kill him for it. The club had rules against this. No club member abused his wife, period, neither sexually nor physically. Those women were the basis for their greatest pleasure, for their satisfaction. They were not to be harmed.
And Drew had dared to hit his wife.
His teeth clenched as anger surged inside him, dark and savage. An anger he fought to keep contained, simply because there were other emotions, just as intense, just as dark, that came with it.
As he left the penthouse he drew in a hard, savage breath and promised himself he was going to stay as far away from that woman as possible. Because she made him want, and what he wanted, he knew, she could never give him.
He watched, and he considered what he saw. Chase Falladay wasn't a man known for his weaknesses, and he wasn't a man known for his stupidity. He had proved that many times, over and over again. He was a man who would be very hard to destroy.
Destroying Chase was imperative. Bringing him to his knees, forcing him to suffer. That was all that mattered.
But where was the best place to strike?
At the brother, perhaps? The brother was no better. Cameron Falladay was as much a blight on the world as his brother Chase was. At least, at one time he had been. Cameron had stopped his depravity, though. Cameron no longer shared his woman with his brother
— otherwise, Chase wouldn't be keeping company with that half-Arabic bastard Khalid.
No, striking out at Cameron would be wrong. What Chase had done wasn't Cameron's fault. What Chase had done rested solely on his own shoulders and he was the one who would have to suffer for it. He had to suffer for it; there was no other option.
Chase wasn't a man who knew remorse. He wasn't a man who understood the suffering others had to deal with. Because he cared for no one but himself. If only, if only there was a weakness to be found. Then justice would be done. Then, Chase would understand the blight he was on this world.
Destroying Chase Falladay was the objective. Now, to find the tool.
Chapter 1
TWO YEARS LATER
It was snowing. Of course, it was December in Washington, D.C., and it was bound to snow eventually. The fat, fluffy flakes drifted like a wintry cape from the dark, cloud-laden sky. There was little wind, so it fell and piled, and in the time it took Kia Rutherford to escape from the hotel and the very boring party she had attended and to go to the little corner bar, it had covered the sidewalks.
The salt trucks were already running, their plows lifted for now. The heavily traveled streets of
Alexandria would stay clear for a while yet. The sidewalks were another matter.
She stepped carefully in her three-inch heels. They were perfectly safe to wear in the hotel, but here, on the slick sidewalk, was another story. She held the skirt of her winter white velvet dress to her ankles and wished she had just tried to grab a cab and risk going home rather than attempting to hide for a while.
There were few places she could hide where she wasn't well known. The bar was one of those places. She had been inside it several times in the past year. It was close to the hotels she was forced to attend events in, and those events invariably included her ex-husband, Drew.
She lowered her head as she ducked into the bar, pulling the wrap that was much too light for this weather around her cold arms.
She waved to the bartender and he nodded quickly as she headed to the table she always snagged. In the corner, where it was dark and shadowed and she could watch. Just watch the patrons as they chatted, laughed, joked.
Friends came in with friends or business associates. They could get a little loud, but they laughed and s
lapped each other on the back and had fun.
"It's a little cold out there tonight, honey." The barmaid, a young woman named Andrea, sat a chilled bottle of beer in front of Kia and smiled back at her in concern as she let her eyes rove over her evening gown.
Andrea was quiet, a dark brunette with laughing gray eyes and a smile for everyone. Her sweater and jeans attested to the fact that the chill in the air outside often seeped inside here as well.
"Yes, it is," Kia agreed as she accepted the beer. "They're saying several inches of snow tonight and much more in the morning."
"Ten inches, last I heard," Andrea agreed, "We should all just hunker down with a hot man and a hotter fire."
Kia smiled as Andrea turned away.
The pub wasn't very full tonight. It was only the middle of the week, after all. She sipped at her beer and pulled the wrap closer around her shoulders, repressing a shiver as she looked around.
From where she sat, most of the room was visible to her. Only the two back corners were as shadowed as her own. They were private, cocooned with darkness.
She sighed deeply as she played with the chilled bottle of beer, stared down at her fingers, and wondered why the hell she had come here. She could have gotten a room at the hotel. Drew would have known, of course, and getting her room number would have been easy for him, but he couldn't have gotten in. She could have just called security. Except she preferred to avoid a fight. Drew wasn't above causing a scene, and he hadn't yet realized that she didn't give a damn.
All fear of society's gossip had been burned out of her the day she was forced to retract her knowledge of exactly what her husband was, and what he had been a part of.
In two years, she hadn't forgotten that moment for even a single day. Or night. Some nights, she dreamed of it, and the dreams were much different than what had happened in reality.