Chapter 2
Chapter Two
He had a dead woman handcuffed in his bed.
She let out a low groan.
Correction a… supposedly dead woman was in his bed. Ronan Walker continued sitting in the chair that he’d strategically placed a few feet from the foot of that bed. The position gave him a perfect view of one Luna Black. His latest target.
The woman he’d killed hours before.
Her long, dark lashes fluttered. Another groan escaped her, and his eyes remained locked on her face. An intriguing face. Not a face that was classically beautiful, he decided. More…sensual. Sharp cheeks. Slightly pointed chin. Straight nose. Full, plump lips. With her long tumble of black hair, she had a slightly witchy appearance. As in, a wicked witch who starred in men’s fantasies. Sexy and dangerous and she?—
Her eyes opened.
Green. Emerald. Quite stunning in their intensity. He hadn’t been able to see that intensity in the darkness of the New Orleans streets. But now, well, Luna might just have the most amazing eyes that he’d ever seen.
Only as she stared at him, her emerald gaze quickly filled with horror. Her lush mouth parted. Actually, it more dropped open. He expected her to scream. They were far enough away from civilization that she could scream her heart out, and he’d be the only person who heard her cries. A benefit of having a place in the bayou. Easy to dump bodies and hide victims. Not that he was going to mention that bit of information to Luna just yet.
She jerked upright in bed. She tried to lunge forward, but the handcuff around her right wrist hauled her back. One cuff had been placed around her right wrist, and the other had been locked around the railing of the old brass bed.
Her head whipped toward the handcuff. First to the one bound to her wrist, then to the one locked to the bed. In the next instant, her head snapped back toward him. “You. ”
He nodded. “Me.” Ronan continued his relaxed pose. He’d taken off his suit coat. He still wore the black vest he’d had beneath it, but he’d rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. Ronan spared a glance at the watch on his left wrist. She’d been out for a little over four hours. He’d started to vaguely worry. I hadn’t wanted to give her that second dose, but when she’d started to kick the lid of the trunk, I didn’t have an option. Couldn’t let a dead woman attract more attention than she already had.
Not that he really minded the Tulane guys seeing him. They would have run to the cops with their story. Given a good description of him and poor, dead Luna. Their story would just be extra coverage for her murder.
As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Luna Black—former drama teacher, budding entrepreneur—had been murdered. Her body would not be recovered. She would not be seen again. Just another tragic case.
“I’m not dead.” She tugged on the handcuff but didn’t take her eyes off him.
Intrigued by her reaction—because he’d certainly expected quite a few screams by now—Ronan slowly shook his head. “Not dead.” His voice came out low and hard. Typically the way he spoke. His shoulders rolled back as he continued to study her.
He’d taken off her shoes, socks, and the big, black coat she wore. He’d left on her shirt and the jeans that fit her like a second skin. Luna was average height, but with full breasts and hips that flared in the best possible way.
Sensual. The word whispered through his head again. The perfect way to describe her.
A perfect problem. He shifted a bit in his chair. What in the fuck? Am I lusting after a target? It was probably because of the kiss. A mistake. He’d known it was a mistake even as he bent to taste her.
Why in the hell had he kissed her?
And why did he want to kiss her again so badly?
Luna licked her lips.
Damn.
“This…this isn’t some weird sex thing, is it?” Hushed. Trembly.
His eyes narrowed.
“Oh, God. It is.” Her breath heaved in. Then out. “I’m handcuffed to your bed. This is about to get weird and kinky, and I don’t care how hot you are— this is not happening!”
I don’t care how hot you are. She thought he was hot? Interesting to know. He filed away that tidbit for later.
But she sucked in another deep breath, and he knew the screams were about to start. To save his ears, Ronan figured he should make a confession. “I was hired to kill you by a certain dangerous individual from Atlanta.” Ah, Atlanta. A city he’d been visiting too frequently for the business of death.
Her mouth opened wider.
“I was hired by him to kill you,” he repeated, “but the Feds are paying me more to keep you alive.”
A strangled gasp was the only thing that emerged from her parted mouth. Then her lips snapped closed. She blinked. Twice. Squinted. “Say again?”
“The Feds are paying me to keep you alive.” He rolled back his shoulders once more and got a bit more comfortable in the chair. “It’s your lucky night, Luna Black. I just made the rest of the world think that you’re dead. That means you actually have a chance to keep living.”
“Thank…you?” Luna’s words were definitely a question.
But he nodded anyway. “You’re welcome.”
Another swipe of her tongue over her lips. An unfortunate side effect of the drug he’d given her? Dry mouth. He should probably offer her some water. He’d already put a glass on the table near the bed. Look at him being all thoughtful. His friends would laugh their asses off. Ronan had never particularly been known as the thoughtful sort. “If you’re thirsty, there’s a drink waiting for you.” He pointed to the glass.
She grabbed the drink with her free hand. Downed the water in a couple of fast gulps, then put the empty glass back down with a soft clink. Her breath came fast, and he noticed that her fingers had trembled and made the glass shake. She was clearly terrified but fighting hard not to show her fear.
You just keep intriguing me, Luna.
“I…let me get this all straight.” She shoved back some heavy locks of hair that had fallen over the side of her face. “You drugged me.”
“Um. Had to do that twice. You just wouldn’t stay out. Can’t have a dead woman waking up and trying to escape. Looks bad.”
She squeaked. Caught herself. Cleared her throat. “Yes.” Husky. “Don’t want you to look bad as a…hired killer?”
He nodded. “Totally bad for the reputation.” And he did have a reputation to maintain. One that Ronan had carefully cultivated over the years. “You don’t get to be the most feared in the business by making mistakes.”
“H-how do you get to be the most feared?” Luna pulled her legs beneath her. Tugged on the handcuff around her wrist. She could tug on it all night. It wasn’t going to open. And the brass bed might look old, but it was sturdy. Luna would not be getting free until he released her.
And he didn’t trust her enough to release her yet. He had to be sure she wouldn’t run from him the moment the cuffs were off. That meant they needed to reach a deal. Not like he was in the mood to trail the woman all through the bayou in the middle of the night. Gators were out there. And snakes.
He freaking hated snakes.
But back to her question. A good question. “You get to be the most feared by always getting the job done.” Which he did. “I’m not big into blood and gore scenes. Too dramatic.” A little FYI for her.
Luna seemed to pale. “Right. Way too dramatic. Don’t want that.”
“So I execute with a minimum amount of fuss. A quick push of a needle can give vics a sweet, painless death.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. “You kill people for a living.”
No, technically, he did not. Technically, he worked undercover as a hitman. The people he killed? They got shiny, new lives someplace far, far away. But he wasn’t ready to share all with Luna just yet. Mostly because he never shared all with anyone. Besides, if she feared him, she was less likely to be problematic.
Problems tended to annoy the hell out of him. He liked order. Regimen. Was that too much to ask?
Her eyes cracked open. The green sparkled at him.
Oh, right. He should respond. “Killing pays well.”
“That is a terrifying thing to say.”
“It’s a truthful thing.”
She rose onto her knees. Her arm pulled a bit where her wrist hooked to the cuff. “But you are not going to kill me?” Hopeful.
“Told you, I’m being paid more to keep you alive.” Were the drugs making it hard for her to follow along?
“Do the Feds often make partnerships with hitmen?”
“That’s something you’d have to ask them.” More often than you would suspect, dear Luna.
“How do I know you aren’t lying to me? That this isn’t some terrible trick?” Her gaze darted around the room. “Maybe you’re into torture and this is the way you start. You give your victims hope. Make them think they’re going to survive, and then the knives come out.”
The knives? Really? “Just told you I wasn’t into blood.” But he rose to his feet.
She stiffened.
“Relax.” He pointed down to his body. “Do you see a knife strapped to me?”
Her stare raked over him. Seemed to really search. “Could be on an ankle strap. I’ve heard people do that. Keep knives strapped to their ankles and hidden beneath the legs of their pants.”
He showed her both ankles.
“Could be under your vest.”
Without taking his eyes off hers, he slowly unbuttoned the vest. He was aware of a sudden, hard tension as he opened the vest and let it fall. The tension seemed to stretch in the air between them.
She swallowed. “You don’t have one tucked under your shirt, do you?”
“Luna.” Her name came out almost as a caress. “Are you trying to get me to strip for you?”
“No.” But she nodded.
And damn if he didn’t almost smile at her. “I am not planning to use a knife on you.” To mar that perfect skin? That would be a crying shame.
“Good to know. The last attacker did.”
Anger burned through him, lightning fast. “What?”
“He got my shoulder. Better the shoulder than the heart, though, am I right? But it still bled like crazy. Couldn’t risk going to a hospital, so I paid this shady vet to patch me up. And—wait! What are you doing?” Luna backed up against the headboard.
He’d just stalked toward her. Blazing anger had pushed him closer to her. “Show me.”
“Show you…what?”
“The wound,” he bit out. And why was he so mad? Because she was hurt. I don’t like for her to be hurt.
Hell. This wasn’t good. Or rational. Maybe he needed to calm down, back off, and sleep.
Instead, he leaned ever closer.
Her left hand rose. She pulled at the top of her shirt, angling it down to show the jagged scar on her shoulder. “The vet wasn’t very good at stitching. Probably because animals don’t complain about wonky lines.”
Ronan’s back teeth clenched. “No wonder you don’t like knives.” His hand lifted toward her.
“Promise you won’t hurt me.”
His hand froze. Their gazes collided. He could almost hear the seconds ticking by. Finally, he asked, “You gonna believe the word of a hitman who drugged you and kidnapped you?”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Her lips pressed together. She shook her head. No.
“Didn’t think so.” His fingers reached out to touch her shoulder.
She flinched at the contact.
Silken skin. A scar that enraged him beyond reason. “I promise not to hurt you.” The words rumbled from him.
Her breath whispered out. “Does that include not drugging me again? Because I’d really prefer not to be drugged, thank you very much.”
How the hell is she this polite? “Are you always so courteous with your kidnappers?” His fingers kept brushing along the scar, almost as if he could take her pain away.
He couldn’t, of course.
Why am I still touching her? Why do I like touching her so much?
“You’re my first,” she said, those incredible green eyes staring at him without a blink. “Figured I could try courtesy instead of hysteria. Thought it might work better.”
She fascinated him. He sat on the side of the bed. With an immense force of will, Ronan made himself stop touching her.
Luna continued to crouch on her knees. “How did I get here?”
“I drove you in my car.”
A nod.
“Full disclosure,” he added, aware that his voice was gruff. “You were unconscious in the trunk at the time. Well, technically, you woke up once, but then I had to drug you again. So, yeah, here we are.”
Her delicate nostrils flared. Her only sign of fear. Well, that and the frantic pulse he could see racing along her throat. She was trying very hard to appear controlled and calm, but Ronan realized that was just an act. Luna was completely terrified of him.
And I’m fascinated by her. What. In. The. Hell?
“Where, exactly, is here?” Luna inquired in her ever-so-polite tone.
“A cabin in the bayou. Far, far away from civilization. You know, one of those places where no one will hear you scream.”
Silence.
“So there’s not much point in screaming. Or running. Because either you’ll stumble straight into a gator, or I’ll just catch you. And if I have to hunt you through the bayou—dodging snakes and sinking in smelly sludge—I will be pissed. Know that.”
“Oh, no.” Zero emotion in her voice. “I’d hate to piss off the hitman-slash-kidnapper who drugged me. Who knows what he might do next?” Her eyes had gone extra wide.
Suspicion hummed through him. “You’re a good actress, Luna. Guess you had to be, huh? Wasn’t that your thing?”
A sniff. “I was a middle school drama teacher.”
“Right. So you taught other people how to act. I think that means you’re pretty good at hiding your real self.” Ronan found that he was quite curious about her real self. “You’re calm while you talk to me, but I completely terrify you, don’t I?”
“I’m handcuffed to your bed. You confessed to being a hitman. You drugged me. What sane woman wouldn’t be terrified right now?”
“Excellent point.” He caught her scent again. He was ninety-nine percent sure that scent was roses and champagne. “But I think we need to revisit my earlier statement to you.”
“Which statement would that be?” Her wrist casually twisted inside the handcuff.
Cute. Did she think she’d be able to slide her wrist out? Not happening. Unless she was Houdini, she was not getting out of the cuffs. “The statement where I told you the Feds were paying me more to keep you alive than the jerk in Atlanta was paying for me to kill you.”
Another twist of her wrist against the cuff. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”
“Grayson Stone.”
A blink of those long, long lashes.
“You were going to meet him, weren’t you? He’s a Fed and you were desperate to see him. You set up a chat with him here in New Orleans.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s supposed to happen in about five hours, but you won’t be making the appointment. Instead, Grayson will spread the news that you were killed last night. Two witnesses saw your lifeless body get dumped into the back of a BMW. Those Tulane students are definitely coming in handy.”
“Who?” Her wrist pulled against the cuff.
“Oh, right. You were unconscious. You don’t remember them. College guys who tried to save the day. Unfortunately, they were a bit too late.” His hand flew out and curled around the handcuff—and her wrist. “You’re going to get bruised if you keep pulling at the cuff. You can’t get out. Not until I let you out.”
Her breathing came a little faster. “And when do you plan to let me go?”
“As soon as you promise not to run.”
“I promise not to run.” Her immediate reply. “Let me go now?”
Cute, but no. He didn’t believe that fast promise. “Grayson knows that I have you. In fact, he sent me after you.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“Here’s the deal.” Ronan should move things along. Stop staring into her emerald eyes. Stop inhaling her scent. Stop lusting after his charge. “I’m being paid a great deal of money to do the following things. One, fake your death. Which I have done. Incredibly well.” His fingers slid along her wrist, rubbing the area she’d probably already bruised. “Two, hide your sweet ass.”
“Excuse me?”
It is a sweet ass. “Hide you,” he clarified. “Dead people can’t just stroll down Bourbon Street. Gray—Grayson—wants me to keep you out of sight. You need to stay hidden, and you need someone—me—to protect you while you are hiding.”
“Is that number three? Protecting me, I mean?”
Sure. Whatever. “Number four, when the time is right, I’ll deliver you to the Feds. You’ll spill all that you know, and in return, you’ll get a new life. Then I’ll vanish. Be just a bad nightmare for you. And you can start living a real dream somewhere else.”
“You’re doing all of this…for me?”
When the hell had he started easing toward her mouth? Ronan caught himself. “I’m doing all of this for the fat cash I’ll get paid.” He kept his voice hard. “But you have to do things in return. There are no free deals from me.”
A nod of her head.
His fingers slid along her wrist again.
She shivered.
Fear or…
No, stop it. The shiver has to be fear. You might want to fuck her like crazy, but to her, you’re the boogeyman. You drugged her. Put her in a car’s trunk and then cuffed her to a bed. She is not thinking about putting that hot mouth of hers against you again.
Unfortunately.
“What do I have to do?” A husky question from Luna.
Do not say what you’re thinking, Ronan. Do not. Control the impulse. He’d always had dark impulses that needed to be controlled. With Luna, those darker impulses seemed to be pushing against the normal restraints he kept on them. Ronan swallowed. “You have to follow my rules. Don’t be a pain in my ass. We keep a low profile, and you don’t cause any trouble for me, understand? And you absolutely must tell the Feds everything you know about the business in Atlanta. No holding back. I don’t care if it destroys the life you had before.” Hell, that life was already destroyed. Boom. “You share every bit of intel you have. And then you tell the Feds what an amazing job I did keeping that sweet ass safe. I’ll probably get a bonus when the job is done.” Total bullshit but…
She didn’t know that.
There is no big payday for me. I work undercover. I get the job done. I fight against the scum of the earth. For him, that was payment enough. He did the job over and over because the bad guys out there never stopped. There were always more waiting in the dark.
“I think…as a show of trust, you should uncuff me,” she said.
Yeah, he probably should. Gray wouldn’t be thrilled to know he’d kept her cuffed this long. But what Gray didn’t know wouldn’t annoy the guy. Ronan studied his prey. Tried to decide if she was gonna follow all the rules. “No running.”
“Because running would make me a pain in your ass. Check. Right. Heard that the first time.” Her fingers wiggled. “Uncuff me? Please? Pretty please?”
He shoved his left hand into the pocket of his pants. Hauled out the key and put it at the lock. Snick. The cuff popped open. He lowered her hand, rubbing his fingers along her wrist. Was that a bruise already forming? Dammit, he’d have to remember to be extra careful with her because Luna was so delicate?—
“You drugged me!” She slammed her whole body into his. Because Ronan was perched on the side of the bed, he tumbled right off the edge and down to the floor where he landed on his ass. Completely humiliating. He had to outweigh her by at least one hundred pounds, but she toppled him and as he fell, she didn’t come down with him. Instead, fleet of foot, she danced across the mattress, jumped off the edge of the bed, and hauled ass for the bedroom door.
He leapt up to give chase. “ Luna!” A roar.
She slammed the door shut behind her. He barreled into it. And?—
Locked.
Sonofafucker. He’d been the one to install the lock. Just in case she gave him problems. And she’d just used the lock against him. His fist slammed into the wood of the door. “ Luna!” Another roar. One that almost shook the wooden door. “Don’t do this! You need me! Luna!”
No response. Only, hell, had he just heard the cabin’s front door slam?
Ronan ran to the bedroom window. The clouds that had hidden the moon and stars earlier had vanished, and he could just make out Luna’s form as she rushed from the cabin.
Hadn’t he just told the woman he was going to protect her?
Hadn’t he just said his job was to keep her safe?
Dammit. He hauled open the window. Jumped his ass out. And gave chase. “Luna!”
At the thunder of her name, she paused just long enough to glance back at him.
Then she took off even faster. Right into the heart of the bayou. Toward the sludge. Toward the gators. Toward the freaking snakes.
Barely free two whole minutes, and already, the woman had broken a cardinal rule.
She is totally being a pain in the ass.
So much for being the nice guy. Time for the evil hitman to play.