by Leroux, Lucy
He went in search of his houseguest, finding her on the stepladder in the hallway in front of the linen closet
“Do you need any help?”
Julie turned to face him with a start. She lost her balance, falling forward. If he hadn’t been there to catch her, she would have face-planted on the carpet.
Ethan twisted her in his arms, so she was facing up. Her face was the picture of embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her arm wrapping around his neck for support. The move brought them closer until her breasts grazed his chest.
Fuck.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said before giving into the impulse that had been riding him since he first got a good look at her. He kissed her. Hard.
Chapter Eleven
Juliet felt Ethan’s lips on hers. Her response was visceral, immediate, and completely out of her control. If she hadn’t been lying in his arms, she would have swooned.
Her hands tightened on his head, and she pulled him closer. Why does he have to taste so damn good?
Even at the height of her infatuation with Alvaro, there hadn’t been a moment where she’d felt like this—as if her insides were melting into a puddle of liquid silver. More like mercury, something toxic. Pushing at Ethan, she broke the kiss. But she wasn’t able to get any farther.
“I can’t stand up,” she whispered, staring up into his dark eyes. Her legs felt like gelatin.
“Is that a bad thing?” His grin was downright devilish.
“Um…” Fear and heat flooded her body, a potent and completely enervating combination.
Ethan’s demeanor changed, the teasing light in his eyes dying. Contrite, he set her on her feet, but when she didn’t immediately walk away, he thought better of it and scooped her up. He carried her to the living room and set her on the couch with a sigh before stepping around the coffee table in an obvious effort to put some space between them.
Despite the fact she’d been the one to push him away, she felt rejected.
You’re being stupid.
The last thing she needed was to build up a fantasy around this man. He was FBI for saint’s sake.
Now he was watching her, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he regretting kissing her?
Of course he was. She’d acted like he had the plague. Then there was the fact she was living as a guest in his home.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he began, his face stiff. “I don’t want you to think I’m expecting anything from you. It just happened.”
“No,” she said, standing with a hand up to stop him. “I—I understand. And you’re very…” She held up her hands in an unconscious gesture, mimicking the breadth of his stunning biceps. “But I’ve never gotten involved with someone in circumstances like these.”
“Like I said, I took advantage.” Ethan grimaced.
“No. It’s not because I’m in your debt…it’s more because we are so unequal.”
He blinked at the too-fine distinction. “I mean I’m only a waitress,” she added lamely.
Her comedown in society had been meteoric, but instead of streaking higher in the heavens, she’d crashed to the ground like a fallen star.
This man was good and kind. She could feel it in her bones. What would he say if he knew what she’d been accused of back home?
“I’ve dated quite a few waitresses actually, but not one who is a guest in my home,” Ethan said, chagrined. “Please forget this happened. I know how to keep my hands to myself. I promise you don’t have to worry about this.”
Acutely uncomfortable, she twisted her hands together. Tears stung her eyes. She hated crying. It was proof of her frailty. Ever since she’d left home, she’d changed, grown more vulnerable. Every day, she lived in fear of exposure. It had worn down her natural confidence and faith in herself.
Those weren’t the reasons she had to resist Ethan. She was reacting to his protectiveness. Juliet wanted to throw herself at him, to find shelter in his strong arms. She knew better than to trust those impulses. The desire to lean on someone, to confess her fears, and to accept help were what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.
Ethan watched her face with an increasingly stricken expression.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. “I’m being silly. You were right. I’m tired.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Why don’t you go lie down?”
“Good idea,” she murmured, escaping as fast as she could manage.
* * *
“What did you say?” Juliet gripped the bar so tightly her knuckles hurt.
Mike didn’t bother to look at her. He kept washing and stacking glasses as if he hadn’t just shattered her entire world.
“I said I kept your job open as long as I could, but I had to hire someone else.”
How could he say that? “I only missed one night. You barely reopened!”
“We opened two nights ago,” he corrected, his voice hard. “You missed two whole nights. We were swamped. I did what I had to do. And Al did a great job, so I’ve decided to keep him on and let you go.”
They had reopened two nights ago? Why hadn’t he texted her?
“You were swamped? You probably had four customers the whole night.” The weather had been terrible the night before last. Then she remembered something. “Al? Do you mean your best friend Al?”
The chubby guy came in to sponge free beers on Mike’s shifts.
“He lost his job, and he needs a new one.” Mike shrugged, wiping the counter. “One was available here.”
“Except my job wasn’t available! I was out sick. Tully himself hired me.” The owner had personally picked her. Sure, he’d leered at her at the time, but since he kept his hands to himself during the interview, she’d taken the job and hadn’t regretted it. The only people who pawed her here were the customers. Even Mike left her alone. His steady girlfriend would have kneecapped him if he cheated.
Mike glared at her through slitted eyes. “Tully won’t be back for a long time. He’s old, and that illness took a lot out of him. His son Kevin told me to take care of things here, so that’s what I’m doing.”
The sinking feeling deepened to a spiral. Kevin, the owner’s son, was a busy man. He worked at a bank out of state, or so Tully had said. Kevin hadn’t visited once in her time working there. If he did come now, it would be to help his father. He wouldn’t care what Mike was doing, not as long as the bar kept running.
“Tully hired me because I bring in the male customers. Al isn’t likely to help with that,” she pointed out, pressing a hand to her queasy stomach.
Mike flattened his hands on the bar. “I’ve said what needs to be said. If you don’t want me to call INS, I would leave now.”
Juliet’s head drew back. “I have a green card,” she whispered, stung.
“And if I call ICE, are they going to agree?” Mike’s face twisted sourly. “Not that it matters these days. You know they just round people up and toss them in cells. It all gets sorted out later.”
Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she parted her lips. “I need this job.”
He smacked his lips, waving the towel. “You’re going to get another one in no time. Wear a low-cut shirt and a push-up bra. Al needs this.” He walked over to the cash register, opening it and pulling out a wad of cash.
“Take it. It’s more than we owe you for last week.”
Shivering, Juliet swallowed, blinking rapidly. She reached over and snatched the cash, turning on her heel and throwing open the main doors before she started to cry.
The frigid winter air cooled her burning cheeks. She scrubbed her face with both hands, wiping her tears away before they froze to her skin.
What am I going to do now?
Chapter Twelve
I’m getting closer to the Russians. I can feel it. Ethan waved to the elevator repairman as he jogged up the stairs of his building. It had been a frustrating day at the office but at least he’d gotten out
of there in time to meet the repair van.
Ethan had spent the day pitching in, writing reports on the collars from the last raid. He managed to steal an hour for himself, trying to dig up more data to justify a warrant for the Lorano.
It hadn’t been enough. The boat was due in a little over a week now. His boss, Robert Angel aka the Angel, had let it be known Ethan needed something soon if he wanted a green light for any kind of organized sting. He was running out of time.
I need to pull the crew’s background. Maybe he would get lucky and one had been in the kind of trouble he could use.
At least the elevator would be up and running soon. The many delivery men they were going to need to finish up the work would thank him for that. Of course, running up the stairs helped him to work off some of the tension that lingered at the end of the office. He should keep taking them, even if they did fix the lift. Plus, Luna enjoyed the bouncing.
It had become a habit for Ethan to swing by the babysitter to pick Luna up on his way home from work. As long as he didn’t have a raid or drew a surveillance detail, he could keep that up. That would let Julie go into Tully’s a few hours before she would normally be able to.
Although that simply lets her rack up more hours. It wouldn’t get her out of work any earlier. She intended to stay until closing—well after he was asleep. Ethan didn’t like that. If it weren’t for Luna and the need to keep her on a decent schedule, he would pick Julie up at the end of her shift. Tully’s wasn’t far, but Ethan had seen too many crime scenes involving women to be comfortable with even a block. The bar would have to be in the building for him to rest easy…and maybe not even then.
As was her habit, Luna passed out on the trip up the stairs. Maybe the bouncing also helped knock her out? He would have to ask Julie.
Ethan opened the door, calling out before remembering Julie was at work. Luna slept through the bustle. Only the loudest of shouts would wake her. She was a sound sleeper—a detail he was grateful for.
He went to his room, intending to put his service piece away, before he remembered the lockbox was now in his office. Ethan was backtracking when he heard a sniffle.
He found Julie on the floor next to his bed. Her head was resting against the mattress, fresh tear tracks running down her face.
“Hey.” Ethan sat on his haunches next to her, pulling her into his arms before he could think better of it.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pressing her face to his chest and rubbing her back.
She let out a little hiccup and turned, presumably to back out of his embrace, but, halfway through, she gave up and collapsed against him. She spoke, a series of garbled, out-of-breath words.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch any of that.”
Julie pressed a crumpled tissue to her face. “I lost my job. Or rather, it was given to someone else who didn’t miss two days of work.”
He scowled. “Tully didn’t hold it open for you?”
How could the old man do that?
“It wasn’t him.” She sniffled. “Mike, the bartender, is in charge. He gave the job to his friend Al.”
His frown deepened. “That sounds fishy.”
She shrugged. “His friend needed the job. Tully won’t be running things for a while. He’s pretty old. By the time he comes back in—if he comes back—weeks will have passed. Maybe months. I can’t afford to wait that long. I need to work now.”
He winced. “Do you want me to make some calls? I can speak to Tully myself.”
She drew away a little, hesitating. “No, it’s okay. I’ll find a new job. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”
Julie pulled farther away, wrapping her arms around chest. Ethan closed the distance, wrapping an arm around her. “You don’t have to worry about the rent. You and Luna can stay here until you get back on your feet.”
The words were hanging between them before he could even think about what he’d said. But once they were out, he didn’t take them back. Ethan was suddenly certain they should stay. Their little trio had been making it work, surprisingly enough.
“Oh, no. We can’t.” Julie twisted to stare at him.
She was awfully close. Her eyes were a bit swollen and her nose was red, but it was her mouth that did him in. He couldn’t stop staring at her full pink lips. Just like that, he was on fire. Shifting, he hoped she wouldn’t notice the sudden, and, in this case, inappropriate erection.
Don’t you dare kiss her. Julie needed help, not a guy who wanted to strip her down and fuck her brains out. His cock was not going to fix her life as an unemployed single mother. She would pack up and leave if he wasn’t careful. There had to be no strings to this offer. Ethan needed to make her think she was doing him a favor.
“I was thinking of emailing my partners about our situation,” he told her. “Mason was supposed to be back last month, but he’s tied up in California and Donovan can’t take leave from his latest assignment.”
He didn’t know if he’d explained about his friend being a part of Doctors Without Borders, so he stopped and did it now. “Anyway,” he said after he finished, “I’m on my own here, holding down the fort, but work is about to get busy—at least it is if all goes well and I get the warrant I need.”
Julie had stopped crying, but her brow was still creased. “I hope you get what you need for your work, but we’ve imposed on you long enough and—”
Ethan held up a hand. “I was thinking you might be able to pitch in,” he explained. “Mason was meant to pick up the slack, but, since I’m on my own, I was thinking you might be able to help—not that you have to do any of the heavy lifting or anything. Most of the major renovations are done. We always planned on bringing in specialists, craftsman, and electricians for the trickier work. We were going to wait until all the floors were done, but that plan is out the window now. If we have any prayer of staying on track for a spring opening, we have to get moving. The crews will have to work around what isn’t done. Someone needs to be here to let the guys in, possibly coordinate them and keep them on track.”
Her brown eyes were wide. “And you want me to do that?”
“I need you to.” He laughed. “At this point, you know this place as well as anyone else. I trust you. You’re smart and speak both English and Spanish. I think the latter would be a huge help with the workmen, which are a mixed crew.”
“I don’t want to take charity,” she rasped, but she was weakening. He could tell.
“It’s not. Like I said, I’ve been left high and dry by my best mates and co-investors. Hiring you would be a cheap solution for us. I can get you up to speed on what you need to know. The rest we can work out as we go along. And since the studio downstairs still isn’t ready, it makes more sense for you to stay up here.”
“That’s the part I feel bad about,” she said, stating the obvious. “We’ve invaded your personal space. I found one of Luna’s toys wedged behind the refrigerator today. I have no idea how she got it stuck in there.”
He snorted. “I found her doll on top of the middle of my desk. She would have had to climb into the office chair to reach. She’s quite agile for her age. But I didn’t mind.”
Ethan lifted one shoulder, nudging her. “C’mon, the timing is fortuitous. It will give you time to find something else—a better job than slinging drinks at night. Didn’t you say you came to the city for a job as a law clerk? Now you’ll be able to find something like that.”
Julie bit her lip, still indecisive, so he pulled out the big guns.
“With an office job, you’d be able to stay with Luna every night instead of depending on after-hours babysitters. And you’d be able to afford a better daycare.”
Her lips parted, and she took a shaky breath. “I don’t know anything about construction.”
“I don’t know much myself. I have some books and watched some videos.” He left out the part about doing renovations on his dad’s house as a teen. Compared to the task of getting an entire apartment building ready, it was apples
and oranges.
Julie stared off into space. He could almost see the wheels in her mind turning.
Her pink lips parted. “Did you hear about the woman who built a whole house for her family? She learned everything she needed to know by watching YouTube videos.”
Ethan grinned. His Juliet had taken the bait.
Chapter Thirteen
“I got it.” Ethan waved the paper, still hot from the printer, in his partner’s face.
Jason wrinkled his nose, snatching the paper. “What’s this then?”
“It’s what we need to get a team approved for the Lorano.”
Jason squinted at the rap sheet Ethan had handed him. “Who am I looking at?” he said past the pencil in his mouth. He flipped to the second sheet of mostly misdemeanor crimes.
“This is our new best friend—Ilia Kuznetsov.”
Jason put the pencil down. “I take it this guy is part of the Lorano’s crew?”
“The first mate.” Ethan leaned down, pointing out the most relevant crime. “A known smuggler.”
His partner squinted at the line. “This says exotic animals. Any judge we go to will want more. Even the boss will tell us to hand it over to fish and game.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Jason leaned closer. “What do you know that I don’t?”
Ethan sat in his chair, putting his feet up on his desk. “I know Earl Harris—a friendly judge who owes me a favor. But we’ll need to pitch it to the Angel just right,” he said, referring to their supervisor.
“You think this and an anonymous tip are enough for a warrant?” Jason asked.
“We’ve acted on less,” Ethan pointed out.
“Other agents in the department have acted on less,” his partner corrected, narrowing his eyes. “But you don’t usually take risks like this.”
Ethan sniffed, surveying the busy office. Jimenez and Walsh, the two agents at the neighboring desks, were by the coffee machine with intense expressions. They were no doubt hashing out their tactics on how to deal with the douchebags in the DA’s office now their op was wrapping up. Fucking lawyers.
