Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“Your bravery shames me.”
Aleksei’s words brushed against her mind, but she couldn’t process them. Her heart was as loud in her ears as the walk-through heart at the Franklin Institute, but beating a hell of a lot faster.
Cancer had taken her hair, but without cancer, she wouldn’t be the person she was.
She wouldn’t embrace the joy in the little things like taking Thor for a walk, watching the leaves turn, sipping the first pumpkin latte of the fall season, or skipping the theater to spend a crazy night with one of the sexiest men she’d ever laid eyes on.
A man whom she’d just told that she was bald.
A man who was sitting next to her, looking at her like she was a teacup being juggled over a concrete patio—ready to fall and shatter at any moment.
She’d been forged by fire. She would not shatter.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Your bravery shames me,” he repeated.
“I’m not sure it counts as bravery since I didn’t really have a choice.”
“Most people in difficult situations don’t choose to be in them. It’s how they respond to that situation that shows their character. You. Are. Brave.”
Silence settled between them. Slightly awkward.
Slightly expectant. She knew it was better to wait for him to speak, but fear of rejection sat in her stomach like a greasy meal.
She hated the idea of him sitting next to her, trying to think of how to let her down gently.
Trying to find the nicest way to tell her that he thought she was a great person, but that the bald thing was too much to handle.
Admiring her didn’t mean he would accept her.
She came with baggage. It might be too heavy for him to help carry.
“It’s okay if you want to stop seeing me.”
Lightning flashed in his eyes. “If I were the kind of guy who would walk away because you wear a wig, then you should want to stop seeing me. You’re way too good for someone who thinks like that.”
“But you haven’t seen me without the wig. Not even my sister has.”
The storm clouds in his eyes became a tornado. “I like you, Rosemary. You. Yes, I think you’re beautiful and sexy as hell, but if I were only attracted to your looks, I wouldn’t be sitting here. So, you wear a wig. Lots of women wear wigs.”
Damn him. Sage had tried this same argument on her.
“This isn’t a fashion thing. I am completely bald. I had to have a treatment to replace my goddamn eyebrows!”
His hand settled on her shoulder. The fire was dying down, and although her head was still prickling, her body had cooled. The weight of his palm was soothing.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel nervous or worried about me knowing you’re bald.
You’ve been through hell and survived. You deserve to feel however you want to feel.
What I’m saying is, I can’t imagine thinking you’re anything other than perfect with or without hair.
You’re a warrior. Any man should be honored to be with you. ”
This man was going to be her undoing. His kindness.
His sensitivity. His honesty. And then there was the way he spoke.
Part cop, part old-fashioned gentleman, and part motivational speaker.
It was probably a mix of his job and all those old movies his mom made him watch.
It didn’t matter. The substance of his words spoken in that deep, sexy, slightly accented voice made her skin tingle.
“You’d make a great narrator for spicy romance.”
“What?”
Her neck heated. Why had she said that out loud? Now he knew she read spicy romance.
“You have a great voice. I sometimes listen to novels when I’m walking or biking at the gym.”
Novels. That made her sound well-read and intelligent.
“Got it. So, if I need some extra cash, I’ll give Audible a call.”
He slid the hand that had been resting on her shoulder down her arm to her wrist, where he started making circles with his thumb. How could such a small motion be so soothing and distracting?
“So, are we good? Do you believe that I’m okay with you being bald?”
He’d used the word bald intentionally. She was sure of it. Who knew what would happen when he saw her without her wig? But right now, he wasn’t mincing words. He was facing the fact of her hair loss head-on. She couldn’t ask for more than that.
“I think the only other thing is that you know how important it is for me to keep my wig on. I don’t want you accidentally pulling it off, which is why I asked you not to touch my hair.”
He lifted his hand from her wrist and saluted. “Yes, ma’am. Remember, I was in the Marines. You won’t find anyone better at following orders.”
“Good. Do you still want to show me your bedroom?” she asked, butterflies dancing in her stomach.
Aleksei’s eyes became hooded, and he leaned toward her, so close that his lips brushed hers as he spoke. “Do you still want to see it?”
Desire snaked through her belly. Instead of answering, she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips against his warm, firm ones.
His tongue pushed against her mouth, and she opened for him, savoring his sweet, spicy, minty taste.
She dropped her hands to his thighs. His pants were smooth, but the muscle beneath was hard.
An image of him using those muscles to thrust deeply inside her flashed through her mind.
Heat swirled in her stomach and thighs. She needed to touch him.
She inched her hands higher and higher, circling the tips of her fingers in exploration until she found what she was looking for—his erection. He was rock hard, and she could feel the heat of his skin even through his pants. She closed her hand around his cock, squeezing.
He groaned and thrust his tongue deeper into her mouth, sending electric waves through her.
She found his waistband, tugged his undershirt free, and let her fingers roam, finding firm muscle and fiery skin.
His coarse chest hair contrasted with the smooth planes of his sides and back.
The need to feel him under her tongue rode her.
She jerked his shirt upward and bent her head to bite the flesh just above his waist. Hard fingers dug into her shoulders as his hips jerked forward, making liquid heat rush to her core.
His cock was rigid against her cheek, warm even through the layers of material separating them.
She fumbled at the button of his pants, the metal cool under her fingers.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
His hand left her shoulder, and she peered up just as he glanced at the vibrating smart watch on his wrist.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”
She eased back, disappointment mixing with concern.
His mouth was set in a grim line. “I’m sorry. I have to take this call.”
He leapt off the coach, agile as a cat, grabbed his phone from the coffee table, and answered the call as he headed toward the hall. She leaned in his direction, straining to hear.
She heard Alexsie ask, “What’s wrong?” Then, the click of his bedroom door cut him off from her hearing.
The concern in his voice sent a chill down her spine.
* * *
Aleksei’s eyes adjusted quickly to the darkened bedroom.
The room faced the road, so streetlights and headlights always provided bands of light around the blinds, no matter how late it was.
Jaka lifted her head in her crate, but she didn’t bark.
As he waited for Kemper’s response, he peered carefully through the narrow opening between the blind and the edge of a window that flanked his bed, scanning the street.
If Kemper called late on a Friday night when he knew Aleksei was supposed to be out with Rosemary, shit was brewing.
If Moresco was somehow on to him, he’d be easy enough to find.
He owned the apartment. A quick search of real estate records and he’d be a sitting duck.
The hiss of Kemper blowing out cigarette smoke filled the line. “Why do you always think something’s wrong?”
“You’re calling me when I’m with Rosemary,” he said through clenched teeth. “I told you we were going to the theater and that I was going to try to find out more about her work. So, it’s reasonable to assume you wouldn’t fucking call unless something was wrong.”
“It’s past midnight. You said you’d be home around 10.”
He glanced at his watch: 00:37. The theater. The bar. The walk back to his apartment. Talking outside, then inside. Watching Rosemary come while lying in his arms. It felt like days, and it felt like seconds. Too much and too little at the same time.
“Shit.”
Kemper barked out a laugh. “That’s what you always say. You gotta get a new line.”
“She’s still here.”
“You brought her back to your place? What the hell are you doing, Thompson? You know better than that. This op isn’t going to be worth shit if you blow your cover.”
He fought to keep his voice quiet. “This is no op, and you fucking know it. It’s me, solo, trying to catch Phillipe’s killer with an occasional bone from you.”
Another hiss from the cigarette. “All right. All right.”
Aleksei could almost see Kemper raising his hands in surrender.
“You’re right. You’re in there solo, doing the best you can.”
His temper settled. They’d both lost Phillipe. Kemper was doing everything he could. He was risking his job by having Aleksei pursue this lead. Giving him a hard time was a dick move.
“Sorry. I’m on edge. I lost track of time, and your call was unexpected. It put me on high alert.”
“No problem,” Kemper responded. “I just called to ask if you had Phillipe’s last notebook.
You know how he was always scribbling shit in one of those mini composition books he kept in his back pocket?
Evidence had a few from his desk and the ones they seized from his house, but I remember his last one was blue. The blue one wasn’t there.”