Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
She’d fallen onto him. A delicious sprawl. One hand was on his chest. And the other was temptingly close to his eager dick.
Alas, to Beau’s extreme disappointment, she snatched her hand away from his dick. She also straightened up and jumped to the seat that was a good foot away. But she panted and her gaze darted to his crotch—to the dick that saluted her through the rough fabric of his jeans.
“Sorry about that. When a gorgeous woman jumps in my lap, it happens. Damn thing has a mind of its own.” And when the woman in question was Avalon—well, his dick couldn’t help but surge to instant attention.
“I didn’t jump. I didn’t even realize you were waiting inside the car!”
The limo started moving. “Have a nice chat with the cops?” Beau glanced at his watch. Not that he needed to check it again. He’d been glaring at the thing while he waited on her. “Took you long enough to finish up.”
“They had a million questions.”
“About me.”
“Yes. And about us.”
He waited. He also enjoyed the sight of her. There was just something about Avalon that always made him feel…better. Yes, she was beautiful. Undeniably. To him, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But there was more. A hard-to-define more that had the tension easing from his shoulders and the twists disappearing from his gut.
Avalon.
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. The graceful movement of her hand had his stare shifting to her wrist. And to the tattoo that circled her skin. A dark band, but he’d noticed the fleur-de-lis designs hidden in the darkness.
You could take the girl out of New Orleans…
But New Orleans would always linger on the woman.
“Is he your brother?” Avalon waved toward the front of the limo.
Ah. He’d figured she’d pounce on this particular topic. “I did hear him say those words.”
“So he is your brother?”
“I believe he told you something about a brother relationship.”
She heaved out a rather cute, frustrated grunt. “He didn’t tell me his name.”
“He can be an ass like that.” True story. He could actually be an ass in many ways.
“You haven’t told me his name, either.”
Fine. “He goes by Royal most days.”
“Goes by? As in…that’s not his real name? Is it like a stage name? Are you about to tell me that guy is the lead singer in a band or something? Bodyguard and driver by day, rock star at night?”
Hardly, but, God, she made him want to smile. So he did. A real smile for her.
Her eyes fell to his smile. “Dammit, she was right. That smile is trouble.”
He was looking at trouble. But, back to her question about the name. “Not a rock star.” Royal would be horrified by the mere suggestion, so Beau made a mental note to repeat this conversation to him later. “Usually, he’s a royal pain in my ass. So I figure it’s a close enough name.” That was all he’d say on the matter. Royal’s secrets were his own. Beau had already been more than careful enough with his responses.
Her hands twisted in her lap.
He wanted to reach out and put his fingers over hers. For now, he controlled the impulse. “You keep letting those nails of yours bite into your palms, and you’ll make yourself bleed.”
They stopped twisting.
“It’s one of your few tells.” Did she realize it? “When you get scared, you sink your nails into your palms.” Truly curious, he asked, “What makes you feel better? Making those fists and hiding them from everyone? Or do you like the little bite of pain?” Beau watched her for a response. He wasn’t judging. Just asking. Because there had been something he didn’t know about Avalon.
You learn a lot from a distance. You learn so much more being up close and personal.
“I’m not into pain.” Instant.
“Too bad. With the right person, it can be just like pleasure.”
“Stop.” Her eyes flared.
“I’m not doing anything.” Yes, he was. They both knew it.
“You’re screwing with my head.”
Guilty. Only seemed fair, though, since she’d been screwing with his from day one.
“I’ve got to ask, do you always bust into police stations like that?”
“No.” Another true story. “Often, I bust out of them.”
Her breath heaved. “Can you be serious with me?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I am dead serious with you.”
She peered through the window. “Where are we even going?”
“Back to the hotel. You spent all your time digging up my secrets, and you didn’t get any rest. You can’t function on zero sleep. Not if we’re going to catch the bastard out there.” A pause. “That is why you came rushing after me, isn’t it? Because you want to team up with my awesome self to catch the bad guy? And not because, oh, you realize that you were desperate for me and wanted to fuck me here and now?”
“Beau.”
He settled more comfortably against the lush seat. His legs spread in front of him. His dick kept right on saluting her. “Yes?”
“I asked you to be serious. If this…this partnership is going to work?—”
“I am serious. I’m taking you back to the hotel. And we’ll catch the bad guy. We’ll get right to work on that after you’ve had some rest.”
Her lips pressed together. Her gaze swept over him.
Beau refused to tense even though he knew…Here it comes. When he’d first entered the interrogation room and gone to her, she’d flinched when he reached out to touch her. Fear had flickered in her gaze. Beau was definitely not a fan of fear in her eyes. In the interrogation room, she hadn’t stared at him like he was her hero.
Too bad.
She’d stared at him as if she’d realized he was something very, very different.
“How do I know I’m not looking straight at the bad guy?” Avalon did not pull the punch. The question was soft and husky and her gaze held his as—this time—she waited to see if he had a tell.
Once more, he smiled at her. “I am a bad guy. Don’t forget that. I am an absolute bastard to a whole lot of people in this world.” His smile slowly died away. “But not to you.”
“Because I’m your good thing?”
Yes.
“Bad guys stalk people.”
“Good guys protect people.”
She shot toward him. He didn’t expect that move. Was totally unprepared when she suddenly bolted at him. His hands flew out and curled around her hips. She jabbed a finger into his chest. Meanwhile, Royal was an asshat up front and hit some pothole—hard—and she tumbled to the side. They wound up tangled and half-lounging on one of the seats. She was on top. One leg between his. He was…
I want her so much.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Lingered. But then she gave a hard, negative shake of her head.
One of his hands tightened on her.
“Why would I need protecting?” Avalon asked.
Why would she—he threw back his head and laughed. The laughter seemed to echo in the limo. It was deep and heavy, and she stopped poking him in the chest.
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s fucking hilarious,” he managed to say. But she was pulling back, again, and that was just annoying. He sat up, mostly, and so did she. Only he kept one hand on the curve of her hip, and she remained in the seat right next to him. Her leg brushed his. Her tempting scent wrapped around him. He inhaled. Deeply. “Is that lavender?” He hadn’t quite been sure of the scent before.
“You tell me. You’re the one who seems to know every single detail of my life.”
“Not every detail.” He’d put his cards on the table. In his own way. “How about we play a game?”
She turned to look through the window. “I’m not in the mood for a game. I want answers.”
“And you’ll get them.” He’d give them in his own way. “I’ll tell you one thing I know about you. You tell me one thing you discovered about me while you were busy doing your research on that precious, precious laptop. If what you say about me is true, I’ll admit it. If what you say is false…then I’ll kiss you.”
“What?”
“Same rules apply to you, of course. If I say something that is true, you will admit it. If I say something false, then you kiss me.”
“I…why would I play this crazy game?”
Why, indeed? “Because you want me.” Did she realize that counted as the first true thing he knew about her? “And I want you.” He’d just thrown in a bonus—a true thing about himself. “There’s a basic, primitive attraction between us.” Not so true. The attraction went far beyond anything basic. Primitive, though? Hell, yes. “When we kissed last night, I got more turned on from the touch of your mouth against mine than I have seeing the most expensive strip shows in Vegas.”
Her brows shot up. Then immediately beetled down over her gorgeous green eyes. “You spend a lot of time at strip shows?”
He actually owned a few places in Vegas, but not the point. Avalon hadn’t asked about his diversified businesses. “I’m not interested in watching random women strip, but if you feel the urge to ever put on a show, know that you will have my complete attention.”
She swallowed.
“I want you more than I’ve wanted any other woman.” Truth. Bold. Flat. Done.
Her lips parted. She didn’t speak.
“The game has started, by the way.” A prompt because she was just staring at him. “I’m not lying about the desire I feel for you, so there will be no kiss yet.”
“I do not understand your game.”
Yeah, well, it was a bullshit game so…fair enough. “Tell me what you think you know about me. If it’s a true statement, I’ll own up to it. If it’s not, I’ll kiss you.” She’d been nervous. Sinking her nails into her palms. Watching him with faint traces of fear that he hated. The game was BS. Total spur of the moment. A way to distract her.
But also…a way to let her know that some of the crazy shit she’d discovered about him wasn’t true. I’m not a monster.
And, bonus, he might get to kiss her a few times. Win, win.
Avalon pulled in a deep breath. He knew she was about to step into the deep end. “You have been the suspect in multiple murders.”
He didn’t move. “That was certainly easy enough intel to discover. What did it take? One whole five-second search on the internet?” He clicked his tongue. “Disappointed, that is what I am. I expected questions more hard-hitting from the hotshot crime writer.”
“You have never been found guilty of a murder charge.”
“I believe it was Detective Cuntingham—sorry, my bad, Detective Cunningham who pointed out that it is hard to make some things stick.”
“Have you killed before?”
“No.”
Her gaze fell to his mouth.
“Have you?” he asked her.
“Of course, not!”
“That’s adorable. Such a fast and emphatic denial. But you of all people should know that we can be pushed to take drastic actions. In the wrong circumstances, we can all be killers.”
Her long lashes flickered.
The limo slowed. He didn’t bother glancing out of the window. They weren’t at their destination, not yet.
Her breath shuddered out. She licked her lips and said, “You were the man who left Everett Thomas for the cops to find.”
His expression didn’t alter. Well, well. Jumped right to that, did you? He wondered if her first question had been designed to throw him off so she could go in for the kill. So to speak.
“You were the one who knocked him out and cuffed him.” Her hands pressed to the front of her jeans. Then her fingers curled into little fists.
Her tell.
“And you put the red bow on him when you left him as a gift for the cops,” Avalon finished.
Silence.
The limo picked up speed again.
His right hand rose. Moved slowly toward her. When his fingers curved under her jaw, she didn’t flinch away. Not this time. He leaned in so his mouth was just inches from hers. When she exhaled, he pulled in her breath. Beau wanted to devour her. “You said something that wasn’t true about me.” They’d gone over the rules. At least twice. “Now you have to pay for that with a kiss.” He was going to?—
Her head shot forward those last few, precious inches. Her mouth crashed onto his. His lips were open, so were hers, and Beau didn’t hold back on the leash of his control. His tongue thrust into her mouth, he took every bit of her sweetness, and he damn well wanted more. I want everything.
He’d watched over her for years. Carefully staying away. Always remaining in the shadows. Never touching what he wanted most. At first, he’d started watching her when she’d been a teen. Just to make sure she was safe. That the fucking arsonist didn’t come back. Because he wasn’t caught. He was still hunting. He couldn’t be allowed to hurt Avalon.
Her family had brought in protection for her. The best guards money could buy. With them at her side, he’d been sure she was safe.
So he’d…
Left.
Leaving her felt fucking wrong. He’d tried to move the hell on.
His hands curled around her hips. He pulled her onto his lap. She straddled him. Rocked against the aching dick that shoved so hungrily toward her.
When her parents had died, he’d gone back to her. Pulled, helplessly. He’d watched from a distance at the funeral. He’d felt her pain like a physical blow. She’d stayed at the cemetery long after everyone else left. The rain had begun to fall on her.
He’d remained. Made sure she got home safely.
She moaned into his mouth. He swallowed the sound and wanted more.
She’d lived in dangerous cities. He’d needed to make sure the wrong people stayed away from her. He had.
And when she’d started talking to killers…
Word needed to be spread that no one would hurt her. When she’d been walking straight into hell, the right—and wrong—people had needed to know that she belonged to the devil. You did not fuck with what the devil claimed.
His mouth tore from hers. He began to kiss a path down her throat. Her nails bit into his upper arms. And he decided that he’d like a little bite, too. His mouth pressed harder to her throat. He licked. Nipped.
She gasped and pressed closer. Her nipples were tight, aroused, and they thrust against his chest. He wanted them in his mouth. He wanted to spread her out in the limo and drive deep into her. He’d wanted her for so long and, he’d tried, damn well tried to stay away.
But she’d come to him. Entered his bar. Walked up to him.
Kissed him.
And sealed both their fates. Because once you had a taste of the thing you craved most, you couldn’t go back. Couldn’t put the damn genie back in the bottle and pretend that you hadn’t just been granted your most desperate, desired wish.
Everything had changed when she kissed him. And now…
No. Not like this. Not our first time.
His wandering hands had been sliding down toward her delectable ass. He yanked them back up to her hips. Curled tightly around her waist and lifted her up and off him. Deliberately, Beau put her back in the seat next to him.
Her lips were red and swollen from his mouth. Her eyes were wide. Dazed.
He could still taste her.
And he’d left the faintest red mark on her throat. His fingers slid over that mark, then fell away. Mine.
“I…think I understand how this works now.” Her voice. Husky. Sexy as sin. She sucked in her lower lip, then let it go. “When I make a statement that isn’t true about you, you kiss me to say it’s a lie.” A slow exhale. “You’re saying you did not knock out Everett and cuff him and?—”
He kissed her. Fast. Deep. “You’re delicious.” He backed off. How long would his razor-thin control hold with her? “And you’ve got the basic point of the game.” Only it didn’t feel like a game.
It felt like a dangerous temptation. Because he didn’t want to stop with just a kiss. He also didn’t want his first time with her to be in the back of a moving limo with Royal up front. The jerk would never let him hear the end of it if Beau pulled a move like that, not with Avalon.
She was too important.
“Okay. Okay.” Her hands fisted.
No, he couldn’t have that, either. He reached for her left hand. Opened it up. Smoothed his fingers over the faint marks left there by her short nails. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you.” The last thing on his agenda. No, correction, hurting her was not on his agenda at all. It never would be. But protecting her? That would be the first item. Always.
Her head dipped as she looked down at their hands. Her hair slid forward and hid her face from him. “I should be scared of you.”
His other hand moved under her chin. He lifted her head up. And pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Everyone else can be afraid, but not you.” Never you.
“You’re…the stories said you’re a crime boss.”
He couldn’t look away from her. “Stories say lots of things.”
“You…you aren’t kissing me. That means the stories are true.”
He’d been many things over the years. “All my businesses are legitimate now.” Now being a very important word. “And I haven’t killed anyone.” Yet. He kept the yet to himself. If he got his hands on the bastard who’d left her to die in that house of flames all of those years ago, Beau knew exactly what he would do.
And no one would ever find that body. It was, after all, much harder to convict when there was no body. Juries tended to have a whole lot more reasonable doubt when there was no dead person.
“You’re going to hunt the man who was driving the car last night, aren’t you?”
“Damn straight, I am.” Beau had plans for him, too. And if the bastard turned out to be the same pyro who’d torched her home in New Orleans so long ago…
Hell will feel like a blessing after what I do to you.
“You’re doing all of this because you feel…protective of me.”
Sure, they could go with that. It was true enough. When it came to her, his protective instincts were one hundred percent in overdrive. “I don’t like bastards who hurt or try to hurt women. Really pisses me off.” The limo slowed again. This time, he knew they were nearing her hotel.
“Do you think the man last night was the same one who torched my home all of those years ago?”
The game wasn’t played with questions. It was played with statements. And he’d already been on the receiving end. His turn to see what she would reveal. “You go face to face with killers all the time because you have a darkness inside of you. One I suspect was born on a long-ago night when the heat of New Orleans got too intense for us both.”
Once more, she pressed her lips together. Not a denial. Or those lips would be on him.
The limo came to a full stop. Would Royal have the sense to give them more time? Probably not. But Beau needed more. “You talk to killers because you are trying to understand your own dark urges.”
“I don’t have dark urges.”
His hand rose. His index finger tapped against his lips. Come on, sweetheart. You know what I get.
Her chin lifted and she…darted forward to press a very chaste kiss to his lips. Liar, liar.
But it was a start. “You want vengeance, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “Nothing wrong with that. Some prick burns my home down around me, and you can absolutely bet I’d want to incinerate his world.”
No kisses. No lies.
He heard the faint click of her swallow. “No one could ever find the arsonist in New Orleans. The cops looked. I looked. And the arsons stopped. When the fires stopped, the investigations stopped.”
No fires equaled a cold case. Luckily, he knew some people who freaking lived for cold cases. And he would get to those people, soon enough. “You and I both know the pyro could have—probably had—just moved on from the city. Maybe he got spooked when you escaped the fire. Maybe he needed you to burn and you didn’t.” Now his hands were the ones to clench. “So he fled. But guys like him don’t stop. I bet you learned that in all your chats with killers.”
“They have to be made to stop.” Her gaze darted to the side of the limo. To the window. “Compulsions usually drive them, and you can’t ignore a compulsion. Not when it is too strong.”
The limo had parked right in front of the hotel’s gleaming, double doors. Royal stood just beyond the window. Waiting, not interrupting. For the moment. He was also keeping the eager doormen back.
“I tried to find crimes that I could connect to him in other places,” Avalon revealed. “But most arsons—it’s hard to prove arson in the first case! Lots of arsons go undetected. And the US is huge. There are so many fires each year.”
“Over a million.”
A flash of surprise came and went on her face. What? Did she truly think he hadn’t investigated, too?
“One of the things I learned early on in my career is that serial killers have signatures. This guy? He killed three people in New Orleans. It was never just about the fire. It was about death, too. He moved that bookcase in front of my door. He trapped me in my room.”
Beau remembered shoving the bookcase. That heavy, freaking bookcase.
“I didn’t realize the window had been nailed shut. Not until you told me recently. I thought it was just stuck. It was an old house, after all. Historic. Things in old houses get stuck and warped all the time.”
“I felt the nails.”
Her lashes fluttered. “In order for the nails to be there, he had to be in my house before that night. It…it was the sound of the bookcase grinding over the floor that woke me, you see. I heard it. The sound scared me, and I woke up. No way in the world I would have missed him being in my room and nailing my window shut.”
Beau had realized the same thing long ago. “It was a premeditated attack.”
“It was personal. My bedroom. Me. He wanted me to die. Someone hated me so much that they trapped me in my room and wanted me to burn alive.”
Some sadistic bastard will pay.
“I’ve been hunting him.” Avalon’s quiet confession. “But I can’t find him.”
“You won’t stop until you do.” Something he’d suspected about her for a long time.
“I won’t stop.”
Neither would he.
The limo door opened. “We’re here,” Royal announced. “Been here a while. But I was trying to give you time to, uh, finish up. If you needed to do that.”
“Shut the door, Royal,” he ordered. “We aren’t finished.”
“Good for you. Glad to see dreams are coming true. I’ll just tell these assholes honking behind my ride to calm the hell down.” Royal shut the door.
“Does he…” Avalon’s voice lowered. “Does he think we’re having sex?”
“Probably.”
“I’ve never had sex in a limo.”
“I know.”
She jerked back. “Right. Because you know so much about me. Way too much, Beau. Scarily much.”
“You hold back with your lovers, Avalon. You don’t let people get close. You keep the secret part of yourself—that part with the wilder, darker urges—you keep her chained up.”
No kiss. No lie.
“You don’t have to do that with me.” You won’t hold back with me. “I can handle dark. And I excel at wild.”
Her delicate nostrils flared.
He slowly extended a hand toward her. “Want to hunt with me? I have some resources that can prove invaluable.”
She didn’t take his hand. But she did look at it. With way too much focus. “The flunkies you mentioned before?”
“I do prefer the term friends.” To be clear. “Our first order of business will be finding the jackass who was driving the car last night. Then we focus on your past.”
“And what if the past is tied up in the present? What if the person is one and the same?”
Then they had only one hunt, not two. He kept his hand extended. “I think we’ll find out everything we need to know. I also think you believe I can help you far more than the cops can.”
No kiss. No lie.
But her hand reached for his. Her soft, silken fingers curled around his. “Aren’t you going to say…” Avalon asked with a tilt of her head, “that our partnership will just be business? No sex? No ties?”
Hell, no, he wasn’t saying that. What was he, an idiot? “Screw that shit. You want to have sex with me, then we’ll fuck until you can’t move.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“And we’ll still stop the bad guy.” His fingers curled around hers. Not too tightly. He’d have to be careful never to hold her too tightly. If you held something too tightly, it might break. “I’m the best multitasker you’ll ever meet.”
A faint smile curled her lips. Her dimples almost winked at him. He wanted to see those dimples. He wanted to see a real, full smile spread across her face and light up her eyes. And, what Beau wanted…
He would get.
Sooner or later.
“Trust me,” he urged her.
“If I do, will it prove to be a terrible mistake?”
“I’ve saved your life twice now.” More than that. Unnecessary info. Overkill. “If you can’t trust your hero, who can you trust?”
“I trust you.” She nodded. Then leaned forward and kissed him.
A kiss.
Because her words were a lie.
The scent of the river teased his nose. A pretty enough spot. Tourists certainly seemed to think so. But since it was the day and not the night, the bar known as LeBlanc’s wasn’t bursting at the seams.
In fact, it appeared dead empty.
Once upon a time, the building had been a warehouse. Then it had been abandoned when the business failed. The owner had gone to jail for some smuggling crime. Beau LeBlanc had come along. Stolen the place for a paltry sum, then set about reimagining the location.
A bar now, at least, on the ground level. The line to gain entrance would stretch down the road when darkness fell.
But darkness hadn’t fallen, not yet.
He slipped toward the back of the building. He didn’t see any security cameras. Probably because someone like Beau wouldn’t want footage of certain individuals who visited him. Just in case, though, because maybe he was missing something, he tugged down the ski mask he’d brought along. Then he advanced toward the door and made short work of the lock. He had plenty of skills that had come in handy over the years. Lock picking had been something he’d mastered as a kid. It was necessary to be able to get in and out of locations very easily.
The door didn’t even squeak when he opened it. An alarm began to beep. A damn inconvenience, but one that he could handle. And, moments later, he did handle it, just as he handled shutting off the sprinkler system.
Silence reigned again.
Behind the mask, he smiled. Beau would need a new alarm installed. By the time I’m done, he’ll need one hell of a lot more than just a new alarm.
Then he turned and headed through the staff area. Past all of the boxes of booze. Some expensive. Some cheap as hell. Then he was behind the bar. The counter gleamed. His gaze swept the area. Chairs had been neatly stacked on top of the tables. All of the lights were off, but sunlight drifted through the windows and allowed him to see perfectly. Lots of gleaming, shining wood. Some cool bricks on the back wall. A nice enough place. But what he really liked…
His turned and focused on the items behind the bar. All of those wonderful whiskey bottles. After all, LeBlanc’s was known to have some of the very best whiskey in town. His gloved hand reached up and curled around one bottle. Twenty years old, huh? He took off the top. Inhaled through the mask. Kentucky bourbon whiskey. Special reserve.
He bet it would burn like a beautiful bitch.
Whistling, he began to pour the whiskey along the bar’s countertop. It splashed and flowed so wonderfully. He was going to?—
“What the hell are you doing?” A voice barked.
He dropped the bottle. It shattered onto the floor.
A big, dark-haired bastard stood about ten feet away. He’d come in the front door. And he was lunging forward fast.
You can’t stop me.
He reached into his pocket. Pulled out his gold lighter. The bastard couldn’t see him smile behind the mask. But when those flames ignited, oh, but his smile sure stretched from ear to ear.