Chapter Six Cole
“That wasn’t the deal,” she tartly reminds me.
“It is now,” I state firmly, doing my best not to look at her delectable body spread out before me on the pool table like a feast ready to be devoured.
I shouldn’t have sampled her delights. Because in that short amount of time, I’m scared I just developed an addiction to her. A taste for Addison alone.
Not fucking good. Because the real problem is it was too fucking good.
I’m trying hard to forget how sweet she tasted—like champagne and frosting. Have to forget how she arched up against me, almost desperately, her pussy rubbing against my aching dick. Need to force the image of her wet panties from my mind. If I don’t, I’m going to go crazy.
And right now, I have a job to do that doesn’t include fucking Addison Mills—a.k.a. Public Enemy Number One.
“You…” she seethes, sliding off the edge of the table and smoothing her dress down, “...are a first-class prick.”
I step closer, moving between her and the door. “And you are going to help me take down all the players in this town—”
“I am not doing your job, Detective,” she responds crisply, then quickly regroups, her blue eyes glacial. “I said I’d make sure the Phoenix Kiss wasn’t stolen and, in return, you would hand over the supposed proof you possess against someone on my team. One job. That’s it.”
“The deal changed.” I cast out my lure, hoping she’ll bite. Or at least calm down. “Don’t you want immunity from your crimes? I can get that for you, for your team.”
Am I lying? Probably. But it’s worth a shot.
“Again, no proof. But nice try. And good luck. Especially with Laurent.” She laughs, a merry sound, and I grind my molars.
When she tries to shove past me, I make a grab for her, but she elbows me in the side. Hard. Oof.
“Don’t touch me,” she snaps. “And find someone else to help you.”
If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let her storm out.
“Well, that went well,” I grumble.
But I know I can’t let things end like this. She’s my best chance at cleaning up my city and getting the Feds off my back. Without Addie’s help, I’m screwed.
God, help me. The woman is enough to drive a sane man crazy. But I fucking need her.
In more ways than I’m willing to admit, I think, adjusting myself.
Turning, I hurry out of the game room and race after her. Skidding to a halt at the edge of the crowd, I scan the ballroom. Where the hell did she go? A wisp of fleeing black catches my eye, and I spot her moving toward a side door.
No way. You’re not getting away from me, my little thief.
Hurrying after her, I dodge through the guests, hot on her trail. She disappears through the exit and I’m not far behind. Stepping outside, the cool night air hits me. After our heated encounter, it feels refreshing. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and figure out where I am.
West side of the mansion—which means I have to circle around to the opposite side because that’s where the attendants parked the cars.
Since I wasn’t expecting to leave any time soon, I took advantage of the valet.
Maybe I’m wrong, but I think Addie is heading straight for her car, on the verge of leaving me in the dust.
Racing around the corner, I scramble past the front of the house in time to see her hurrying down the driveway to where she parked, away from everyone else. Probably in case she needed to make a quick getaway, I think dryly.
“Addison!” I yell, but she ignores me, hauling ass over to her Mustang. And it’s not just any old Mustang. No, it’s a Shelby GT500, black as a starless night. That American pony is the ultimate Mustang, sharp as shit, and churns out eight hundred plus horsepower.
Not exactly affordable on my salary as an overworked civil servant. But for a thief? Yeah, she probably paid cash with money from selling some priceless, pilfered artifacts.
By the time I reach her, she’s opening the door and sliding inside. I grab onto the edge of the door before she can slam it shut, narrowly avoiding a couple of smashed fingers. “Hey, hold up!” I shout.
“Fuck off, Vaughn!” She tries to wrench the door shut again, but I’m way stronger and tug it hard, nearly falling on my ass in the process when she abruptly lets go.
“We need to talk,” I insist, leaning down so I can see her better.
“What part of ‘fuck off’ didn’t you understand?” she demands.
Instead of trying to pull the door shut again, she hits the button to start the engine. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to run me over. Expecting the loud, distinctive roar of a Mustang, I’m surprised when all I hear is a funny-sounding splutter.
A splutter. This car should not fucking splutter. It should sound like a powerful beast awakening from slumber, ready to hunt. My gut screams something is wrong. “Get out,” I hiss.
“Wha—”
“GET OUT!” As I’m yelling the words, I reach in, grab her arm and yank her out of the vehicle. I shove her forward, putting my body between her and the car. Fear turns my insides to ice as I bolt forward, grabbing her hand, and forcing her to run with me or be dragged.
The force of the explosion lifts us right off our feet.
We’re thrown forward like a couple of ragdolls, and I do my best to shield her from the scorching heat and flames.
It’s like everything happens in slow motion, and I turn, taking the brunt of the impact on my shoulder when we hit the cement, then roll until I’m covering her body with mine.
“Oh, my God,” she cries, blue eyes going wide and slapping at my jacket. “Cole, you’re on fire!”
I roll off her, smothering the flames against the pavement. We’re still too close to the conflagration, so I haul myself up. She looks stunned as I reach for her hands and help her stand. Moving her away from the fire, still holding her hand tightly, we watch the Shelby burn.
And, for the first time, I realize she called me by my first name. Not Vaughn, not Detective. She said Cole. And I really like the way my name sounds on her lips.
“What happened?” she asks, sounding confused.
“Someone just tried to kill you, Addison,” I answer gravely.
She turns, looking up at me, big blue eyes wide. “You saved my life. W-why?”
Because I’m not done with you, I think. No way am I letting this gorgeous woman die without sharing more kisses. Without hearing her say my name again. Plus, I need her help, I remind myself.
“Despite your prickliness toward me, we made a deal. Remember?” I try to sound nonchalant, but even I can hear the slight tremble in my voice. Guess that happens when you’re nearly blown to smithereens. “You’re welcome.”
Her mouth opens, closes. I reach over with my opposite hand and wipe a smudge of dirt off her cheek.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, voice low, still a little shaky.
I squeeze her hand, and then a shitload of people swarm out the front door, her crew leading the charge.
Addison Mills might be a pain in the ass, but she’s my pain in the ass, I decide. And no one is taking her away from me. No fucking way.