Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Her bright voice had his eyes flaring open. She beamed down at him, her hair falling forward because she was bent very close to stare at him.
“Was the floor as uncomfortable as it looks?” Esme continued in a slightly sing-song voice. Damn if she didn’t look perky and well-rested and just the faintest bit evil as she motioned toward his body and the hardwood floor. “I get that the couch was too small for your very large form. But there was a perfectly good bed upstairs that I was willing to share with you.”
He sat up. Growled.
“There it is,” she enthused. “The sound I live for. Guess that means the floor is, indeed, as uncomfortable as it looks.”
He opened his mouth to reply. Fuck yes, it was uncomfortable. But not just because the floor had been unyielding and stupid hard, but because he’d spent way too much time thinking about her during the night. Realizing that she was just up the stairs. That she’d left the bedroom door unlocked. That she’d invited him into her bed .
And he’d so wanted to take her up on that invitation. But not because he wanted to sleep. He wanted in the bed with her because he wanted to fuck Esme until neither one of them could move.
But he didn’t get the chance to actually say anything because Esme thrust a cup of coffee into his hand. “Made this for you. It’s probably horrible, full disclosure, because the stuff in the kitchen looked ancient, but I like to start my day with a good deed.”
He took the mug of steaming coffee from her. Their fingers brushed. Yep. There it was. The spark of awareness that ignited each time they touched. How long would that last?
“Good to know you feel it, too,” she nodded, as if satisfied. “Even if you apparently aren’t going to do jack about the situation.”
His brows rose.
“Hope you like your coffee black. There was no milk or sugar in the kitchen. We should probably go shopping soon.” She put a hand to her heart. “Our first grocery trip as man and wife.”
“Why do you start each day with a good deed?” Time for him to cut through her BS and get to know the real woman.
Her lashes flickered. “Because if I try to do good, it balances out the bad that is sure to follow later on. After all, I’m incredibly bad, right?” She stood, and he realized that she was wearing faded jeans. A light blue top. The jeans hugged her hips and thighs, and the top flowed over her chest like some kind of soft, silky waterfall. “You think I’m bad. You think I’m a thief.”
“You are a thief.” He sipped the coffee. It was—surprisingly—damn good. “I caught you red-handed, remember?” Which brought up a point he wanted to discuss. “How the hell did you make that walk on the ledge? Weren’t you terrified? And, dammit, Esme, it was raining and slippery. You could have fallen to your death. For what? Diamonds? Your family is already rich as sin.”
“So are you. You pretend to be the poor, former Marine, but I know different.” Her gaze wasn’t on his face. It was on his chest. His bare chest. He’d ditched his shirt, socks, and shoes, and slept in his jeans. Her hand flew out and touched a scar near his shoulder. “From a bullet?”
Her touch electrified him. “Yes,” he hissed.
Her fingers trailed lower. Close to his right side. “This look likes the slash from a knife.” She caressed him.
He put the mug down, fast. Not like he wanted to singe himself because she was making him twitchy with her touches. “It was from a knife.”
Her hand dipped down?—
His hand flew out and curled around her fingers. “I think that’s enough exploration, don’t you?”
Her long lashes lifted. “You have a lot of scars.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they are a real turnoff to someone like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Fucking perfection, that’s what I mean.” Enough games. Enough playing. They were away from the rest of the world. He rose. So did she. She kinda had to rise fully since he still had his grip on her wrist. “You’re all gloss and glamour.”
Those long lashes flickered once more. “I see.”
“You can drop your act, you know.” He should let her go. He didn’t. His thumb slid along her inner wrist. “There’s no one here to see you but me. You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. Drop the good deed BS. Drop the pretense that you want me. I’m here to protect you. Fucking me will not be necessary in order to get me on the job. I’m already committed to your case.”
She sucked in a breath. And she also yanked her hand away from him. “I have just learned several important things about you.” Her chin tipped up. “You like your coffee black.”
Yeah, he did.
“You have far too many scars on your body.”
Like he could help that shit. “Came from doing the job. When you risk your life, you have to be ready for pain.”
Her delicate jaw hardened. “And you are an absolute asshole first thing in the morning. I’ll be sure to remember that.”
“Esme…”
“Here are some things for you to remember about me. What did I learn? Three things about you?” Before he could respond, she bobbed her head in a jerky nod. “Right. Three. So I’ll tell you three things about me.” One index finger shot into the air. “One. I actually do try to start my day with a good deed. It’s something that my mom taught me. Do something nice first thing. No matter how small. Because, after all, who wants to be an asshole first thing in the morning? Oh, right. You do.”
“Esme—”
“Two.” A second finger joined the first. “I don’t have any problem with your scars. Wait. Scratch that. I do. I’m sorry that you were hurt. But they are not a turnoff. Quite the opposite. They show me that you’re strong and that you’re a fighter and that even when you get hurt, you keep going. I find your scars unbelievably sexy.”
He swallowed. “Esme…” Softer now.
“Three.” Not soft at all. A third finger joined the others. “I only fuck someone because I want to do it. I don’t fuck in order to manipulate or get protection or for any other ridiculous reason that you can suggest. I thought you felt the same heat that flares between us. I thought you might be someone I could respect. Instead, I see that you’re indeed… an early morning asshole. ” Two of her fingers immediately lowered so that only one remained. A very prominent one. “Fuck you,” she said sweetly. Then she snatched up his cup of coffee and marched into the kitchen.
She marched fast, and he shook his head to get out of his stupor as he charged after her. “Esme!”
She dumped the coffee down the drain. Such a profound waste. Then whirled to face him. “I’m sure you can make your own coffee.” Her hands curled around the counter behind her. “Oh, whoops. There is no more coffee in the house. Too bad.”
He stalked forward.
There was no place for her to go.
Her breath heaved in and out. Her eyes gleamed. Fury had brought faint red color to her cheeks.
His hands flew out and clamped on the counter near her body. He caged her there. And all he wanted was to kiss her.
Do. Not.
What got him—what really got him— was that he was certain he’d seen actual hurt flare in her eyes. And Tyler didn’t like it when Esme hurt. “I’m sorry,” he rasped.
“Didn’t quite hear that. Want to try again?”
“I’m sorry. ” Louder. Well, rougher, anyway.
“What, exactly, are you sorry for?”
She was too freaking gorgeous. “For being an early morning asshole.” Having her pissed at him was no way to build trust .
She searched his eyes. Then shook her head. “It won’t work.”
“Excuse me?” Her scent had filled his nostrils. That delicious scent.
“You, pretending to be sorry in order to get back in my good graces so that you can manipulate me. It’s not going to work. I mean, sure, maybe it would work on the women you are used to scamming.”
“Scamming?”
“But I’m not like them. I’m very good at reading people. It’s a particular talent I have. And I know your apology isn’t legit. You’re just trying to get under my skin. You think if you get close enough to me, I’ll reveal all of my deep, dark secrets to you.”
He was so close that their bodies were brushing. So close that it would barely take an inch more, and he could have his mouth on hers. “You’re supposed to reveal all of your deep, dark secrets to the Feds,” he reminded her. “It’s part of your protection deal. You stay alive, and in return, you share those secrets.”
Her right hand flew up. Pressed against his jaw. “But there are secrets…” Soft. “And then there are secrets. ”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Figure it out.”
“I can’t figure out anything about you yet.” He was trying, though.
“Give yourself some time. You will. I have faith in you.”
He sucked in a breath and lurched back as if she’d just burned him.
Esme glowered. “What is it now?”
“I—”
His phone rang. Vibrating and pealing from back in the den. But he hesitated .
“Oh, please.” Esme rolled her eyes. “Don’t let me hold you up. Go grab the call. I’m sure only a very select few have your number and the call no doubt has something to do with my case.” She shooed him with her hands.
“We’re not done,” he warned grimly.
“I don’t think we’re ever starting but, whatever.”
The phone pealed again.
He stalked back to the den and scooped up the phone. She’d been right. Only a select few individuals did have this particular number, and Gray was one of those few. Tyler put the phone to his ear. “Checking in already?”
“I’ve got a dead man in a cell,” Gray returned bluntly.
“What?” Tyler’s grip tightened on the phone.
“Your lady’s would-be hitman? The prick who pretended to be a Fed? Found him dead in a cell this morning. Looks like he was shanked, only are you ready for the fun part?”
“There is a fun part?”
“He was alone in the fucking cell. All night. I’d given strict orders for him to be kept away from any other prisoners. And the security camera for his area went off-line just after midnight. A security failure that wasn’t discovered until this morning.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly. This mess is screaming inside job, and you know how I hate it when things get fucked to hell that way.” A long exhale from Gray. “Thought you might also like to know that the five-million-dollar bounty on your lady’s head?”
“She’s not mine.”
A sniff.
His head whipped to the side. Esme was right there. As in less than three feet away. Clearly close enough to hear his words.
Her arms were crossed over her chest. “I’m not exactly claiming you, either,” she informed him with a glower.
“How the hell do you keep getting so close without making a sound?” Tyler demanded.
She shrugged.
“Uh, Tyler? You listening to me?” Gray asked. “Because this is kind of important, but sure, I can hold if you need to deal with some domestic crap right now.”
Tyler kept his eyes on Esme. Just how much of the conversation was she overhearing?
Probably everything. Gray’s voice could damn well carry. Hell. No choice. “Keep talking,” he told Gray.
“It’s not five million any longer.”
“Okay, okay, that’s good news, at least.” A bright spot. “So the Feds worked their magic and started scrubbing her info from the dark web?—”
“It’s seven million. The bounty on her has increased, and clearly, with this prisoner’s death, we have to believe that law enforcement members may be involved. That means you and I need to be extremely careful about who we trust. And you had better be staying extra close to Esme.”
Her arms moved to wrap around her body.
“Someone powerful wants her dead.” Gray wasn’t sugarcoating anything. “Get her to tell you why. I need more information from her.”
“On it.”
“Do whatever you have to do,” Gray continued in his carrying voice. “Seduce the woman. Make her fall in love with you. Worm your way into her cold, cold heart.”
Her eyes could not narrow more. Yep, she was definitely picking up on Gray’s words and not liking what she heard.
“Get the job done.” A flat order from Gray. “She’s sitting on a pile of secrets, and I need to know every single one.”
“Go investigate the dead guy,” Tyler advised him. “You leave her to me.” He hung up even as he wondered how in the hell he could possibly smooth this situation over with Esme. Should he just begin by announcing that Gray could be an idiot? His buddy could be. A loud-mouthed idiot.
“The hitman is dead?” A quiet, careful question from Esme. Her arms were still wrapped around her body in what looked like a gesture designed to either comfort or shield herself.
“Yes.”
“He was killed while in federal custody?”
“Yes.”
A quick exhale. “So should I assume that this location is already compromised?” Very, very careful words as her eyes darted around the house.
“No, you should?—”
The doorbell rang.
Her lips parted. Esme’s head swung toward the door. Her hair flew over her shoulder. “Company?” A gasp.
Screw that. He had not invited any company over. Tyler bent down and picked up the gun that he’d tucked beneath the couch before he’d gone to sleep last night.
“When did you get that?” Esme squeaked.
He shot her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “I’m a U.S. Marshal, sweetheart. I always have a gun.” He headed for the door.
She lunged out and grabbed his arm. “You can’t just meet our neighbor armed. That is not friendly.”
“No prick should be at our door right now. We were just told that a hitman was killed while in federal custody. You think I’m just gonna stroll out, unarmed, and see who is knocking at our safe house?”
She nibbled on her lower lip.
“You need to go hide,” he informed her. “ Now. ”
“But—”
“You follow my orders, Esme. That was part of my conditions, remember? Non-negotiable.”
The doorbell rang again.
She jumped. “Fine. But be careful. And don’t be afraid to shoot if that is, in fact, a bad guy at the door.”
Oh, sweetness, I never am afraid.
Then she surprised the hell out of him by leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Esme bounded away in the next moment—moving in absolute silence as she headed for the kitchen. He strode for the front door. But he pulled out his phone before opening that door. He tapped a few times and had the front porch video feed popping up on his screen.
And Tyler instantly recognized the SOB on his doorstep.
Eyes narrowing, Tyler tucked the gun into the back waistband of his jeans. He disengaged the alarm and hauled open the door. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
The man on his porch raised a large welcome basket. “Hi, friend. Long time, no see.” He thrust the basket into Tyler’s arms. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” He smiled at Tyler, and the badge on his chest gleamed in the sunlight. A gun was holstered at his hip. “Thought I’d come by and introduce myself to your new wife.”
Sheriff Clay Banks . Tyler knew him well.
“Get your ass inside,” Tyler groused.
The sheriff got his ass inside. Clay kicked the door shut and surveyed the scene even as Tyler dumped the basket on the nearby, still cloth-covered entrance table. White cloths covered basically every piece of furniture on the lower level of the house.
A low whistle came from Clay. “You’re in town one night and you’re already in the dog house?” He motioned toward the pillow and blanket on the floor. “What kind of wife has her husband sleeping on the floor on their first night in town? Huh.” He sawed a hand over his jaw. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you weren’t involved in a real marriage. That this might just be some crazy setup.”
“Don’t be a dick.” Did it look like he was in the mood for the sheriff’s crap?
“Where is the mystery wife? I would love to meet—” Clay’s words stopped. Mostly because Esme had just strolled out of the kitchen.
Hadn’t Tyler told the woman to hide? A direct order, one she’d ignored. They really needed to discuss the meaning of the term non-negotiable.
Because there she was. Looking sexy and charming with her smile and…
Shit. She had a massive butcher knife gripped in her hand, and Esme was heading straight for the sheriff.