by M. S. Parker
“He’s a killer.” There was a vein throbbing in Dale’s forehead now.
Blood roared so loudly in my ears, it was amazing I could hear him. Or anybody else for that matter. But I did. People were starting to murmur, and I saw more than a few of them carefully edging away from me.
But Carly stepped toward me.
With bold, deliberate steps, she moved to my side and hooked her arm through mine. “I thought the whole point of the prison system was reform, Detective,” she said, her voice dripping sweet. “Or are you of a mind that once a man commits a crime, we just lock him up and throw away the key, let him rot there?”
Carly’s simple, unequivocal defense of me was something new. A knot would have formed in my throat if I’d let it.
Dale took a step forward and I automatically nudged Carly behind me, putting myself between her and him.
“Leave her out of this,” I said softly. “You’ve got a grudge against me, and you’ve a right to it, but don’t drag her into it.”
His lip curled and there were words in his eyes, on his face. He didn’t speak them, but he didn’t need to.
I could hear them well enough. I’d been telling myself a version of them from the first moment I realized I wanted to be near Carly.
You dragged her into it just by being here with her.
He left without saying another word.
Chapter Six
I argued with them the whole damn way to the hotel. Up the elevator to the F. Scott Fitzgerald suite, and for a good forty-five minutes after we got into the room.
When Carly pushed a tumbler of bourbon into my hand, I just thumped it down on the closest table and ignored it. She rolled her eyes at me and threw herself down on the couch. That successfully distracted me for maybe thirty seconds, because that short skirt of hers wasn’t designed for her to be sitting like that. So much naked thigh was bared, it just about drove me crazy. She smiled, a hot, sexy gleam that made my dick stand up and beg for attention.
Fuck.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
“You can find somebody better than me for this job. Hell, I don’t think you even need me. Broken arm or not, Jake seems to have everything under control and you said he’s got a replacement coming in soon.” I felt like an idiot staring at the bookshelf in front of me, but if I turned around, I’d go back to staring at her, and I didn’t think that was a good idea.
“You already agreed,” she reminded me. She’d said that a good five times.
Or was it eight? Ten?
I lost track at some point.
“Yeah, well, I’ll just un-agree. You don’t need Dale Mitchell giving you grief.” Neither did I. He could make my life a nightmare, and unlike Carly, I would be stuck here when this gig was up. She was my first concern, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking of me at all.
“Dale isn’t an issue.”
I turned around just in time to see her leaning forward to unzip her boots. Before my eyes could laser in on her hands as she performed that task, I shifted my attention to Ryan and glared. “Are you really a fucking lawyer?”
“Yep.” He flashed me a grin. “I don’t practice much, but I specialized in criminal justice for a few years before realizing it wasn’t for me. I went into police work and was happier with that, then I got into private security and voila’…here I am. Better pay.” He grinned at Carly. “Sometimes the clientele sucks...”
“Hey!” She stuck her tongue out at him.
He winked at her.
She lobbed a boot at him, and then looked at me. “Ryan actually worked...well.” She sighed and pushed a loose curl back from her face. “When I was in high school, I was dating this guy...” Her voice trailed off.
Ryan moved to sit beside her, taking her hand. She leaned against him, and the gesture was so natural that it was clear she’d done it before. It was impossible not to see the bond between them, all three of them.
“Anyway, I met Ryan when he was still a cop. He was working a case. Jake had already been my bodyguard for forever.”
Jake snorted at that. “Forever?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Well, it seems that way. I was like eight when Josie found you.”
“Who’s Josie?”
“She was my aunt.” A sad, wistful smile curved her lips. “My dad’s sister. The only normal person in my life. My mom, my step-sister...you know.” She shrugged. “Anyway, there were a few things that happened when I was a kid and Josie decided I needed a bodyguard. I was eight when she hired Jake. There’ve been others, but Jake’s stayed with me. He’s like my big brother. So’s Ryan.”
I had no desire to be like her brother. She looked up at me just as the thought went through my mind and her lashes drooped low.
She looked away, her fingers toying with the hem of her skirt. “Please don’t quit, Bobby,” she said softly. “He wins if you do.”
“Dale has a right to hate me.” My own voice was quiet as I said it and she looked back up. Swallowing the knot of guilt, fighting the wave of shame, I made myself say it. “That guy I killed? The reason I was in prison? That was Dale’s older brother.”
* * *
I told myself I should just quit. Walk away. I’d already spent too much time telling them I should, that they should find somebody else. But she’d asked me not to. Even after I told her the truth about Dale, and the reason behind the hate in his eyes, she’d asked me to stay.
So I stayed.
Earlier, Ryan told me that a bodyguard had to be on hand all the time.
I should’ve been all but ready to jump at the chance to stay at the Seelbach instead of going back to my dump in the west end, but I felt wrong here. Out of place. Like I didn’t fit.
That feeling just kept growing as I tossed and turned in my bed. After nearly two hours, I ended up going back out in the living room.
The tumbler of bourbon had been emptied. I found the bottle, poured myself another drink and went to the window, staring outside as I sipped the bourbon.
I wasn’t there for more than two minutes when she came to join me.
“Can’t sleep?”
“I’m sleeping just fine,” I responded, not turning to look at her. “I sleepwalk.”
“I love a smart-ass.”
My skin pricked as she moved to stand next to me. She stood so close, I could feel the warmth of her, a teasing little promise.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I took another sip of the bourbon. Damn, but that stuff was good. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to go back to drinking the cheap shit I’d always had before. She was ruining me already.
“How much trouble is he going to try to cause you?” Carly asked into the quiet of the room.
“Who?”
I didn’t know why I bothered playing dumb.
She was a hell of a lot smarter than anyone gave her credit for. Well, anyone but Jake and Ryan. They didn’t underestimate her.
Her sigh was dramatically overdone, and from the corner of my eye, I could see the way she tipped her head back to the sky, almost as if she was praying for patience. If she found any, maybe she could share it. I needed some myself.
“Bobby…”
I tossed back the rest of the bourbon, and then put the glass down on the small table next to the window. “Caralee,” I said, mimicking her aggravated tone.
Then I turned, ready to go back to my room, even if I couldn’t get back to sleep. Except she caught my arm. I looked at her and immediately wished I hadn’t.
I wouldn’t be able to unsee the sight of her wearing some skinny-strapped white thing that covered her just down past her hips. She wore a sheer robe that I guessed was supposed to provide some extra modesty, but all it did was make me want to peel it away.
I felt like I’d just finished running five miles around the yard, my chest heaving, my heart pounding, my hands shaking.
“Bobby.”
“What?”
“I...” She blinked.
I reached up
and touched her lower lip. It was so soft. I could remember just how soft too. And how sweet.
She swayed closer, a soft little noise escaping her.
This time, when she whispered my name, I didn’t bother saying anything.
I just kissed her.
She opened her mouth under mine and I groaned.
She was hot and sweet and more intoxicating than the bourbon I’d just finished. I felt drunk – on her – and I wanted more. Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her flush against me. My hands slid down to her hips, around to her ass.
Fuck, she had an amazing ass.
Her breasts pushed against my chest, nipples almost as hard as my cock. She nipped at my tongue and I shuddered. Her nails scratched at the back of my neck.
I could lose my mind for her. My mind, my heart, my everything.
I didn’t remember how we ended up on the couch. I didn’t know if I moved first, or if she did, or if we both fumbled our way over. But suddenly, we were there, and I twisted and she wiggled and then I had that miserable excuse for a nightgown shoved up.
Shit. She was gorgeous.
I cupped her breasts in my hands, and she gasped. She was fucking perfect. Full and soft and so damn female. Her breasts were big. Big and full, they filled my hands, so damn soft. Except her nipples. They were tight little points, stabbing into my hands. When I caught one in my mouth, she started to whimper.
The sound went straight to my already hard cock and I moaned as I teased my tongue across her sensitive flesh. I couldn’t wait to hear what other sounds she’d make.
Light blazed on.
In a flash, I was in front of her, blocking her body and glaring into the brilliance that temporarily blinded me.
“What the fuck.”
I recognized Ryan’s voice.
“Do you mind?” Carly snapped from behind me.
“There’s a reason bedrooms exist, Carly,” he said sourly.
I didn’t say anything. This was the first time I’d ever been caught with my pants almost down, and I was going to have a hell of a case of blue balls because of it too.
I wasn’t sure who I was more pissed at. Ryan for interrupting me, or me for letting myself get caught up in the moment.
* * *
I huddled over a cup of coffee, desperate for the caffeine. The food smelled amazing, but it was weird just taking food, even if I was allowed.
“Help yourself,” Ryan said, nodding at the spread.
My stomach rumbled even as I lied. “Not hungry.”
He lifted an eyebrow and I determinedly sipped at my coffee. I’d been hungrier than this before. It wouldn’t kill me, especially if I had caffeine to keep me going.
“You’re a stubborn son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
“I said I’m not hungry,” I said flatly.
“Okay, look.” Ryan folded the paper he’d been reading and put it down.
He was wearing a blue dress-shirt with tiny white stripes, and a red tie. The sleeves were folded back, but I suspected they’d be rolled down and buttoned up in no time. The man looked like a million dollars while I looked like a bum who needed a lot more than a cup of coffee. I caught a quick glance of my reflection in the glasses that Ryan wore to read. Okay, I looked like a bum with a good haircut. A bit shorter than I usually liked, but definitely respectable. Even if nothing else about me was.
“You’re working for Carly now,” he began.
“For the next four days,” I corrected.
“For the next four days.” He scowled. “Of course, it would’ve been nice if you could’ve avoided shoving your tongue down your employer’s throat.”
I was almost thirty years-old. I’d done eight years hard time. I’d committed crimes I’d just as soon not talk about. I could take a punch to the face, and throw an even better one. But at his blunt words, I felt my face go red.
I crossed my arms. “Is there a point to this?”
Instead of answering, Ryan stood up and went to the table over by the wall. He picked up a plate, and as I watched, he filled it with food. He returned and put the plate in front of me. My mouth started to water, and I had to swallow before I could speak without drooling. It had been a long time since I’d had a full meal.
“The point is, you don’t need to go hungry because you’re too damn proud to eat food you aren’t paying for,” he said quietly. “It’s part of the job, Bobby. Just like the clothes.”
I stared hard at the food. My skin felt tight, hot with shame. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take what I hadn’t earned.
“I’ve gone hungry before, too.”
Whipping my head up, I stared at him.
A faint smile crooked his lips up and he shrugged. “I spent half my life on the street, Bobby. My mom, she died when I was six. We lived in Los Angeles, an area called Compton.”
Shit. I figured he was about five or six years older than me, and while I wasn’t a news junkie, I paid enough attention to know what Compton had been like when I was a kid.
“I ended up in a foster home.” He paused, hesitated for a moment before he continued, “The first place wasn’t so bad, but then the woman got pregnant, and I went to another place. The guy there...” Ryan’s face tightened. “He was a sick son of a bitch. I ran away when I was eleven. Spent the next four years on the street, ended up in a gang. Then I lucked out. Ended up getting arrested.”
He leaned his hips against the table and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at me. My respect for him was growing. When I’d heard he was a lawyer, I definitely hadn’t expected this in his background.
“Six months in juvie, then another foster home. The guy was a cop. Lucked out again. And yeah, I lucked out when I got arrested. If I’d stayed where I was, I’d probably have ended up dead. Half the guys I knew back then are either dead or behind bars now. And even the ones who’re still alive don’t have the kind of life I do. Getting arrested was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He laughed and the sound was soft, almost bemused, like he still couldn’t believe it. “The cop and his wife adopted me when I was sixteen. For the first time in years, I had a real home, a real family. They changed my life.”
Now he nudged the plate closer and my stomach gave a painful clench. I hadn’t had much beyond the hamburger the night I was hired.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be hungry, Bobby. Or to have pride. If you have to, think about it this way. Carly’s paying you to do a job, and that job comes with room and board. You aren’t any use to any of us if you end up with pneumonia, stomping around in sub-zero temps in that pitiful excuse of a coat or dropping dead because you don’t eat enough to keep a goat alive. Now eat, you stubborn son of a bitch.”
“Shows what you know,” I muttered. But I grabbed the plate.
“What?”
I shoved a mouthful of eggs into my mouth before I answered. “Goats will eat a whole damn lot.”
He chuckled. “You’re a smart-ass country boy, Bobby.”
“You’re a dumb-ass city boy.”
He went back to reading while I emptied the plate.
I’d no sooner finished the last bite when my cell phone rang.
I hated the stupid thing. If I had my way, I wouldn’t have one at all, but I needed a way for my parole officer to contact me, and the pay-as-you-go cellphone was the least annoying option. Especially since a landline in the dump where I lived wasn’t always reliable when it came to retaining messages.
If I were being honest with myself, I would’ve admitted I’d been waiting for the call since the second I’d seen Dale Mitchell last night.
The phone number that flashed up belonged to Detoine Sampson, my parole officer. Dread crowding my throat, I answered. “Hello.”
“Hey, Bobby. It’s Detoine.”
“Detoine.”
“Listen, man. I know we just met a couple weeks ago, but I need you to come in.” He sounded nice and casual, but I was good at reading people, and he wa
sn’t happy.
Perfect. I didn’t let my annoyance seep into my voice. It wasn’t Detoine’s fault, after all. “Sure. When?”
“Today. This morning, actually.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Ryan watching me. The man was like a fucking hawk. And I had a feeling he knew who was calling. “I...uh...okay. I’ll make it work.”
“Make it work soon...okay, kid?”
“I’ll do what I can, sir. I just have to speak with my employer.” I knew a job wasn’t an excuse to skip, but it would at least give me bonus points when I got in.
The call ended without another word.
“Let me guess,” Ryan said, his gaze shrewd.
The doors swung open before he could say anything else.
Carly, clad in vivid blue and her face glowing, came in, Jake at her back. He was in workout gear despite the cast. So was she, now that I was actually noticing anything besides the bared skin and the flush on her face. Two more men in suits were at their backs, but they didn’t come into the room. The doors closed behind them, and Carly looked at me, a wide smile on her face. As I watched, it faded. I hated that I was the reason she wasn’t smiling anymore.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, darting her eyes towards Ryan.
“It was your PO, wasn’t it?” Ryan was still watching me.
“You read minds too?” My voice was rusty. Unable to look at any of them, I stood up and gathered up the few dishes I’d used, carrying them away from the table, only to stop. I didn’t see a sink. Maybe there wasn’t one. I stopped and put them back on the table. I kept my tone even. “I’m afraid I won’t be available this morning. Maybe not at all. I’m sorry.”
“What’s going on?” Carly asked.
I just shook my head and took a step toward the door, but before I could leave, Ryan cut me off.
“Was it your PO?”
“Yes!” I snapped. Not that it was any of his business.
“What’s a PO?” Carly asked.
Through gritted teeth, I answered her. Maybe this was what she needed for it to sink in. “My parole officer. I’m an ex-con, remember? I’m on a leash, Carly. The cop last night decided to tug on that leash. My PO got a call and I have to go in. That’s the way it works.”