Chapter Eleven #2
Lance watched Jasmine do the same thing as the young man and soon they were seated by each other, some racing game pulled up on the television. He swung his focus from them to the adult male still lingering in the small kitchen with him.
“Who the fuck are you?”
The mocking grin didn’t ease any concern.
* * * *
The television had some multiplayer shooting game that Den, short for Camden, played.
He was playing by himself but didn’t seem to be all that put out by the fact.
The volume was low, as were the lights. Evening was upon them, and while the boy played in the living room, Lance sat at the table, his left knee pressing into her right.
He had been over-the-top protective since he woke.
He’d tugged on a dark blue pair of workout pants but had forgone a shirt.
Mark was across from them, the remnants of their dinner scattered on the speckled tabletop between them.
“Where does that leave us?” Lance’s question was one on her tongue as well and she shrugged, unsure of what the actual answer would be.
Rocking forward until his chair legs hit the floor, Mark rested large forearms on the table, brushing aside the fast-food wrapper before him.
“It’s your call, Smoke.” A single shoulder rose and fell laconically.
“If it were up to me, I’d dump his ass and let him figure it out on his own.
You don’t owe him anything. Helping him puts you in more danger.
I still don’t know why you don’t just become a PI.
You can move around as much as you like, take the cases you want.
Do this, what you do now, but get paid well for it and not be in so much danger. ”
Lance’s leg pressed harder against hers but he didn’t speak. He watched. Her. Not Mark, who she focused on.
“You know I can’t leave him to this on his own. They already almost killed him.”
Lance pushed harder. “You both know I’m right here, right? I can hear you. Stop talking about me like I don’t know what mess of shit I’m in.”
That’s the problem, Lance. I don’t think you do know what you’re in. Not fully. Not completely. And definitely not honestly. His subconscious was right, he didn’t know how deep the shit creek he was in ran. Not if he was going to be truthful with himself.
She tore her gaze from Mark’s and met the blue-green gaze of her detective.
Jasmine missed the icy green of his natural eye color.
“I told you about the setup. How they went to the address they thought you were at and would have killed you had you been there. The decision is yours. You want to pursue this and make them pay for trying to have you killed, I’m here to help however you want.
” She angled toward him a bit more, knee sliding against his thigh.
“You want to leave and walk away, I’ll help you do that. ”
“Do you know Robert is in on it?” A shift in his seat. “Like for certain?”
She recognized it in his voice. A thin thread of need to believe that his years of being undercover hadn’t been a waste. That this clusterfuck hadn’t been but his imagination misinforming him that he had been out on his own, that those he should have expected to protect him were actually a danger.
Jasmine fisted a hand to keep from reaching out to him. “One hundred percent? No. Because his device could have been bugged, I don’t know. But he was the last one I talked to and then the men went to kill you.”
“You think he is selling me out.” A single shoulder shrug. “Or already has sold me out.”
“I think people don’t change as much as we hope they will.” She rotated back toward the table and Mark. “We also know I don’t trust Robert. But it’s your life, not mine.”
He licked his lips and her core clenched in response. In her periphery she watched Mark’s mouth quirk. A slow glide of her tongue along her lower lip was her retaliation to Lance before she slumped back in the seat.
“What do you think?” Lance pointed the question to Mark.
Funny, it seemed as if his focus remained on her, however.
“Man, I don’t give a flying fuck what you do.
I’m here purely because I owe this woman my life.
” He too, leaned back, one strong arm draping over the frame of the chair.
“All that to say, if she says it’s wrong and the man is shit, I’d listen to her.
I never worked with Robert, but men he worked with, yes.
And they were the ones who burned me, nearly cost me my life and that of my boy. ”
“And your twin?”
Jasmine smiled. She’d wondered how long it would be before Lance brought up thinking he’d seen two of the same man.
Mark shot her a wink and she wasn’t positive but damn near that a growl emerged from the man beside her. And he inched closer to her. Jasmine gave Lance about thirty good seconds before his arm was along the back of her chair.
“Don’t have one.”
“Bullshit,” Lance spat.
Oh. She’d been wrong. It wasn’t the back of her chair he settled his hand possessively against but the nape of her neck. Strong fingers curving about, his grip familiar and calming.
Damn it! She wasn’t supposed to feel anything but lust for him. This comforting and protected feeling she got wasn’t part of the plan.
A reminder that had become somewhat of a mantra when it came to this man here. It irritated her to no end that she had to continue remembering that. She scowled. Anger slithered up her spine and she ground her jaw, counting slowly and trying to regain her control.
He leisurely stroked her neck and her insides responded to the familiar touch. It wasn’t only the inside either, her skin pebbled and her nipples tightened. A huff of air burst from her lips and she shifted away from him, rising from the chair.
The men glanced up at her but she ignored both of them, walking to the fridge.
“You have water right here, Jasmine.”
“Not getting more water, Mark, thanks.” She didn’t have to turn around to know the bastard had a smirk on his face.
“Babe?”
She scowled at the fridge’s interior before swiping a beer she didn’t need. Fingers curled around the longneck, she turned back to the table, nudging the door closed with the sole of her foot.
Lance was moving toward her and she sucked a sharp breath. Even recovering, there was no denying his presence. It was simply there. His gaze locked on her like a heat-seeking missile and her thighs clenched involuntarily.
Predatory. Hungry. Determined. Possessive.
All words that described the way he watched her. Touched her.
As if he hadn’t a care in the world, he backed her into the fridge, arms bracketing her in as his palms slapped the white material of the appliance.
A swift bite to the inside of her lower lip sent enough pain through her to give her a wake-up call. Coldly arching an eyebrow, she waited.
Amusement glided over his expression as he bent his elbows and allowed himself to come closer. His warm breath skated over her lips and she had to force herself not to move nearer and allow them to connect.
“Care to tell me what’s got the bee in your bonnet?” A brief pause. “Babe?”
“Just because I wanted a beer doesn’t mean there is anything wrong.”
He narrowed his eyes and she swallowed, realizing she wanted to see those icy green eyes without the colored contacts in them. Before she could move away, he gripped her throat then moved his thumb along her skin.
Heart kicking up, she watched him as he observed her. Thumb moving to her lower lip, he pressed it in then dragged his digit away.
“Don’t hide from me, Jasmine. We’re in this together. You and me. The hell with the rest of the world.”
If only.
Giving in to her need to touch him, she settled her hand on his cheek. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. The prickly stubble along his jaw abraded her palm and she curved her fingers, moving them so her fingertips slid over his skin.
“This is your life. You need to think carefully about your decision. Do what’s best for you, not for anyone else.”
He inhaled deeply and brushed their lips together. “My life includes you, Jasmine.”
Her heart wrenched and she blinked back tears of desperation and frustration.
She was desperate for a man like him, one who would love her unconditionally.
Frustration because she wasn’t going to have that.
It wasn’t in her wheelhouse. She wasn’t a person anymore.
She was a ghost. Not meant to have a normal life.
“Maybe you two can stop playing kissy-face and we can finish this discussion.”
Lance nipped her lip, not even bothering to look in Mark’s direction at his complaint. “I’d rather kick him out and fuck you in the kitchen. Shove my fingers deep in this pussy of mine. Sink to my knees and lift one of your legs over my shoulder while I lick you to at least five screaming orgasms.”
Said pussy clenched with desire. “Five? Aiming high?”
“Guys!”
They ignored him. Lance dragged his nose along her skin. “I can more than deliver, baby. Challenge me again and I’ll show you right here. I don’t give a fuck who is in this apartment.”
She believed him.