Chapter 5
FORREST
I couldn't decide between the black Armani suit or navy blue.
In the end I chose navy blue, with an off-white shirt and a colorful tie.
For contrast, of course. Also, I wanted to keep the tone of the evening light.
I didn't want Sable to think I was putting pressure on her.
I meant what I said when I told her I was patient.
I wouldn't spook her if I could help it.
Not only because I wanted to keep my promise to Harlow St. James, that I'd keep an eye on Sable. I also liked the woman. Something about her piqued my interest. Okay, a lot of things. Her beauty, her intelligence and her strength. She hadn't begun to understand how special she was. How unique.
I was already hooked.
The night air was chilly as I stepped out of the ride-share outside Sable's apartment building.
I gave the doorman a nod before stepping into the elevator and riding it up to her floor.
If I was careful, it wouldn't be the only thing I was riding, but there was no rush for that either.
She'd come apart for me when she was ready.
I tapped my fingers against my thigh as the car slid smoothly upward.
Everything about this place screamed expensive. The design and craftsmanship showed attention to detail. Nothing was worn, scuffed or broken. It was almost sterile.
You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I liked things a little rough around the edges. Not that my apartment reflected it.
The company I kept, on the other hand…
I stepped out of the elevator and down toward her door.
Why was it was already open? She knew I was coming, but it seemed uncharacteristic for someone like Sable Kohl. Someone always on guard, always careful, always hyper vigilant.
I hurried my steps until I reached the doorway.
Stopped and stared.
Why was Woody Taylor-Francis holding a knife to her? Why was he here at all?
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked again.
Woody turned around, his knife hand dropping to his side.
Sable stepped away from him, over to where a piano stool lay upended. She picked it up and held it in front of her as if it would serve as a weapon. She really was too cute.
"What am I doing here?" Woody asked. "What are you doing here?"
"I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding," Sable said. Her voice only wavered a little. Did she know how much of a badass she really was?
"I'd say you're right." I stepped over to her and took the stool out of her hand before placing it back in front of the piano.
"Would someone care to explain?" I crossed my hands over my chest and looked from one to the other.
"He came here to kill me," Sable said.
I slowly turned my face to glare at him. "You what?"
"You heard her," he said stubbornly. "She killed my father."
"Sable, will you excuse us for a minute or two?" I jerked my head toward the door and strode away, leaving Woody to follow.
"What the fuck is going on?" I said once we were outside in the corridor.
"Like I said—" he started.
"Have you lost your mind?" I snapped.
"I'm perfectly within my right mind," he insisted. "Isn't this what we do? We take care of people the police haven't. How many times have we…"
I snapped my face toward him, cutting off his words.
"We shouldn't be talking about this in the middle of a corridor." I sucked in a deep breath so I didn't lose my shit at my friend being so close to my woman. If he thought I wouldn't kill him…
"You seem very sure she's guilty."
"You…" He looked confused. "You must be too, or you wouldn't be here. If I knew you were coming to take care of her, I wouldn't have."
"I'm not here to 'take care of her,'" I said. He was losing it if he thought that. "I'm here to take her out to dinner."
"But she…" He gestured toward her.
"As far as I know, she's the victim here. Unless you have evidence otherwise?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Just a hunch. Wait, you're taking her to dinner? Are you out of your mind?"
"No. Also, as far as I know, we don't take care of people based on a hunch. If you're going to kill someone, you better have proof."
Realizing I wasn't going to let him murder her tonight, he put his knife away. "Fine. I'll let you take her out to dinner. You can find the evidence I need. When you tell me she's guilty…" He shrugged. "We can do whatever needs to be done."
"And if she's not guilty?" I wasn't naive. She seemed sweet, but that didn't mean she wasn't capable of murder. I'd met Harlow St. James, after all. Not to mention others. Many others.
"She is," Woody insisted. "We've both seen this a thousand times before. Someone marries someone else for the money. Then they kill them. It's asshole behavior one-oh-one."
"I thought that was killing innocent people," I said darkly. Something I didn't condone and never would.
His jaw worked, his stare stubborn. "Asshole behavior one-oh-two then. Whatever. Still makes her an asshole."
Marrying someone for money wasn't even in my top one hundred of asshole behaviors, but I wasn't going to have that conversation with him right now.
"You should get out of here before I stab you in the asshole," I said.
He leaned towards me and said, "Don't threaten me with a good time." His breath smelt like coffee and a hint of basil. No sign of alcohol. Just as well. He was reckless enough without being drunk.
I snorted. "You wish."
He smirked and stalked off toward the elevator. I waited until the car was gone before I stepped back into Sable's apartment and closed the door.
"Are you all right?"
She was standing in the corner, her hands clasped together as if she was hoping not to be noticed.
As if I'd fail to see someone as beautiful as her. I couldn't look anywhere else. She could have been surrounded by a million other women, and I wouldn't have seen a single one of them.
"Yeah, I'm absolutely fine," she said with what was clearly mock cheerfulness. The pitch and slight manic tone gave her away. "Masked men break into my apartment and threaten to kill me at least once or twice a week." Her voice squeaked on the last couple of words.
I stepped over to her and took one of her hands, watching her carefully for any sign of discomfort at my touch. "If that's the case, I insist you hire a team of burly bodyguards. That, or you can move in with me."
That sounded appealing. I could easily picture her on my bed, her hair fanned out across my pillow. Legs parted, waiting for me to dive down between them and taste her.
"You knew him," she stated.
"He's an acquaintance." Trying to explain exactly what we were would be complicated and potentially dangerous.
I was part of a group of vigilante killers who, as Woody said, took care of people the authorities couldn't. People I had to let walk out of my courtroom because the law couldn't do its job. Because I couldn't do my job.
"You know some interesting people," she said carefully. "Should I be calling the police?"
"Don't worry about Woody. I'll take care of him," I assured her.
She stared at the door as if he was on the other side.
"I had no idea Wolfgang had a son." She left no doubt of her sincerity. She really hadn't had a clue. No doubt there was a million other things the man never told her.
Things I wasn't going to enlighten her on either. Not tonight anyway. She had enough on her plate without worrying about things a dead man did.
"They have a complicated relationship," I said. "I mean, had. Do you know why he believed you killed his father?" Did Woody not know there was a line of people eager to do just that? If he missed his father, he was the only one.
"If I was guessing, I'd say he was looking for someone to blame and figured it might as well be me.
" She glanced down toward the dark hardwood floor.
Floor that might have glistened with her blood if I hadn't walked in when I did.
I pictured her lying there with her throat cut, but forced the image away.
That hadn't happened. It wouldn't. I wouldn't allow it.
"But you didn’t," I said.
Something about her responses made me uneasy. Did I think she drove a knife into Wolfgang's chest? No, but something else was going on here. She knew something and she wasn't telling me.
I also had a feeling I wasn't going to get information out of her now.
I'd have to get her to open up to me. Tell me everything.
Hopefully then Woody would back off. Ironically, he might have liked her if he'd given her a chance.
Now, she'd probably look for a weapon if she saw him coming. Not that I could blame her.
"Of course I didn't." She looked back up at me, a single crease through the bridge of her nose. "You know what the coroner concluded."
"Wolfgang was killed by two people while you were having a shower," I said.
She certainly wasn't strong enough to do the work of two people. Although, if she got really, really pissed off, it could give her strength. But no, it made no sense to me. I didn't want to think about it too much, if I was honest.
"Do you still want to go out to dinner?" I asked. "I know this must have been terrifying."
The next time I saw Woody, I was going to kick his ass. He should have run this by me and Leif before he acted. I understood this was his father, but it didn't change the loose set of rules we operated by. If we couldn't trust each other, then what did we have?
"It was," she agreed. "I'm surprised I didn't wet myself." She clapped her hand over her mouth. "I can't believe I said that out loud," she said, her voice muffled.
I smiled. "Anyone else would have done it under the circumstances. Woody is intense when he wants to be."
"Don't tell me he's really a teddy bear in disguise." She lowered her hand and grimaced to see her palm covered in lipstick.
"I wouldn't say he's a teddy bear, but he has his moments when you get to know him."
"I'll have to take your word for it. Excuse me for a moment."
She stepped into the powder room to wash her hands and reapply her lipstick. The color, I noted, would look perfect around my cock.
I cleared my throat, composing myself and forcing my erection to deflate before she noticed the tent in the front of my pants.
"You didn't answer my question," I pointed out. "I can order us something to eat."
"No, I'd like to go out," she said quickly. "If you say you'll handle him, I believe you. Although, we could handle him together, couldn't we? You and I. We're big and tough." She actually flexed her arms, showing off defined muscles. Not bodybuilder size by any means, but she clearly worked out.
"I'm surprised he didn't run away screaming," I said.
How the fuck did Wolfgang ever lay a hand on this woman? She was adorable. Beautiful. And in the black dress that fell above her knees, while showing off a hint of cleavage, sexy as hell. I wanted to suggest we stay here so I could peel it off her.
"I guess I should have showed him my guns before things went too far," she said. "I'll know for next time."
I wished I could tell her there wouldn't be a next time, but Woody had a tendency to be unpredictable. If he got impatient, he'd be back.
I'd have to get answers from her before that happened. For her own sake. And mine. Because if she was guilty, I might have to kill her myself.
"Absolutely you should," I agreed. "Shall we? I gestured toward the door. "I have a reservation for a place I hope you'll like."