Her head whipped around, and her eyes unleashed their venom, a waft of her peppermint hair teasing his nose. “Don’t get any ideas. I do everything in my power to avoid the spotlight, because it’s not just a light. It’s a microscope. A really cruel, unflattering magnifier of half-truths and outright lies sensationalized for maximum destruction. We’re going out back. Hopefully they won’t catch on until we get to your truck. In the meantime, just behave yourself.”
He allowed a few moments for her to witness his slow, mischievous grin for her edification and was rewarded when a subtle flush of color filled her cheeks. Then he leaned in, humming his words against her ear. “But I don’t wanna behave myself. I’m thinking we should misbehave together. Plus, this will get your father off your back. And the paparazzi will think they snuck up on us, and they’ll write all about our fiery romance, putting all the rumors to rest. Win-win.”
Finn held open the door, his heart twitching with anticipation he could hardly contain. Scrutinizing his intention, her eyes drew their bead on him and she stood planted in place. What was sure to be a play at intimidation evoked something else entirely. He tugged her outside and almost dragged her down the back alley, around to the sidewalk several doors down.
“Finally.” Turning her to face him, he stepped closer and cradled her face in both hands.
“Finn, what the heck are you do—”
Cutting off her protest at the source, Finn closed the distance between their lips.
She was immediately inching back, her body resisting the magnetism. Her lips, on the other hand, had no qualms about the intrusion and eagerly parted to introduce one of her own. Yet she was still pulling away until the space between them widened enough to break the kiss—much too early for Finn’s liking.
Finn indulged the game of cat and mouse, stalking slowly forward until the heels she wore brought them almost nose to nose.
“What are you doing?” She licked her lips, and he tracked the movement before watching her gaze dart to the photographers still oblivious to their slip.
“This is called kissing, Joss. You do it quite well. Now stop stalling and give me something to smile about.” He loved having an excuse to do this. Backing her against a brick store front, he leaned his body flush against hers in a way that was none too innocent, aligning them from their shaking knees to their racing hearts. Their breaths billowed white in the night air as he breathed her in, hovering a skin-tingling whisper away before her hands tentatively touched his chest. Game over. He captured her lips again.
This time, she surrendered. Her touch lit a trail of fire on his skin. The flame skittered up his chest, over his jaw, and into his hair where her fingers gripped hard. She arched her back, allowing his arms to surround her and hold her tighter.
A tiny moan of pleasure escaped from her throat, and the clicking and flashing of approaching press faded away leaving nothing but Finn and Joselyn—their lips, their souls intertwined, lighting up the dark world with the kiss of a lifetime.
He groaned and crushed her, savoring every stolen second. She tasted so sweet, like the Italian crème dessert they’d sampled after dinner had lined her mouth with silken sugar.
His appetite was suddenly ravenous, and any semblance of restraint obliterated. Breaking from her lips, he let his kiss do the talking for how beautiful she was, how precious and desirable. How loved. All while indulging in the skin of her neck, her cheeks, her eyelids, her ear. Her candied breath warmed his skin as he explored the satiny planes of her flawless face.
“Finn.”
His name ached out on a breathless sigh that unraveled his brain, sent his God-fearing mind to a dangerous place. A place where her kiss leveraged his very existence, her touch more vital than the oxygen she siphoned from his lungs.
It was only then—with that abrupt and absurd realization—he remembered that the film was rolling on this moment. The pictures, relentless. And the reporters weren’t simply observing they were barking questions, slinging accusations about politics and appearances. And payment.
Gently, he pulled back, dragging a regrettably crisp breath past his lips. Joselyn blinked languidly at first, as if she too had lost herself in their kiss. A more lucid blink, and a grimace tightened each one of her lovely features as the crude slander snatched away their perfect moment.
Reaching up, he ignored the chaos surrounding them and smoothed the hair away from Joselyn’s face—soft, glossy, perfect hair he was solely responsible for ruining with his wild, untamable affections.
“Let’s get outta here.” He tipped his head toward his truck, curled her hand into his, and parted the pack of wolves still hunting for a story. They’d given them more than enough to satisfy their rabid hunger—and Joselyn’s father’s need for a newsworthy romance—but these vultures were ruthless in their quest to expose.
Finn hadn’t expected the pummeling cruelty. Each blow cheap and dirty. Finn’s alleged infidelity, Declan Whyte’s bribery, and worst of all, Joselyn’s cold and heartless talent for keeping men at bay.
Feeling her fingers tremble in his, he lifted her frozen hand and pressed it to his lips.
The scavengers were still scrounging for scraps when Archer slipped from cover and sidled next to Finn. Amid the bustle of too many bodies, Finn doubted anyone noticed Archer speak low and firm into Finn’s ear.
“Get Joselyn out of here. Now. The area’s not secure.” Archer seamlessly ambled away as if he hadn’t dropped a bomb.
Finn thought about calling out, getting more than the abbreviated warning, but instead he went onto autopilot, boosting Joselyn into his truck, sprinting to the other side, and tearing away from the flashing frenzy.
Joselyn looked shaken. It was her eyes that gave her away. What had been a white-hot flame of desire was now as cold and vacant as tundra. She couldn’t have heard Archer, but he knew she’d seen him.
And if Finn thought the date had been loaded with pressure, it was nothing compared to the mountain-sized task of protecting her from a cunning and obsessive lunatic.
Finn thumbed to Archer’s number and wedged his phone against his shoulder.
“Hayes.” The edge in that one curt word wasn’t exactly reassuring.
“Dude, what’s going on?” Without looking, Finn reached over and snatched up Joselyn’s hand. Somehow, simply holding on made the possibility of losing her less threatening.
“Patrols spotted a man with a military rifle ducking into an alley about 300 yards from the restaurant. They spooked him and are scouring the area. Sal thinks he’s got a trail, so we’re gonna go. I need you to take Joselyn someplace safe. Maybe the Whyte Estate. It’s not far, and they have good security. Go now. Lay low. I’ll send someone over.”
The call disconnected before Finn could get a word out. Urgency rammed his foot down on the gas as he tore through the windy back roads toward Declan Whyte’s mansion. The pristine white winterscape a deceptively peaceful counterpoint to the dangers lurking around each black ice-riddled bend. The heavy duty tires continually fought for traction, carrying them to the Whyte refuge that had been Joselyn’s prison.
It was the unsettling polarity of it all that tweaked his unease, making it feel like they were heading straight into the eye of the storm. And that nothing was quite what it seemed.
“Is no one here?” Declan Whyte’s castle loomed all around them with an unnerving silence and an eerie cast of moving shadows. They’d let themselves in, and while Joselyn disarmed the alarm for their entrance, Finn shed both his overcoat and suitcoat and draped them over the round marble-topped table gracing the center of the giant rotunda that was the foyer.
“Well, my dad’s rarely here. Gloria and Erwin are usually early to retire to their house on the west edge of the property.” Continuing to tinker with the touch screen embedded in the wall, she didn’t bother to raise her eyes.
“Gotcha. Need some help?”
She continued to tap on the screen. “Something’s up with the security system. It’s not
showing if it’s armed right now or not.”
“Are all the doors locked?” It seemed simple enough to Finn. Lock the doors. Stay inside.
She turned, clearly annoyed which was a little bit cute. She shucked off her coat with a single frustrated jerk and chucked it at him. “There are over twenty entry doors into this house.”
Turning her eyes back to task, she tried again. “Ehhh, stupid thing!” She hung her head. “I guess we should probably go check the doors, to be safe. If we split up, it should only take us about fifteen minutes.”
“I don’t think so. I’m not letting you out of my sight. And not only because you look so fine in that dress.”
A slight, spreading grin couldn’t be contained by the soft bite of her lip, nor her shoddy effort to scowl. “I demand to know what’s going on.” She crossed her arms, no doubt aiming for cold and prim, but paired with the scorching hot dress the dichotomy was fascinating. And quite possibly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
He shook his head, needing to get ahold of himself, which she mistook for his refusal and haughtily stomped her foot in protest. He couldn’t help but grin. The sassy show of defiance only uncovered another inexplicably cute and sexy side of Joss he found irresistible.
Great focus, Iron Man.
She tapped her foot impatiently as he moved closer. Though he despised the thought of scaring her for no reason, he wouldn’t lie to her. “There, uh … there was someone with a gun near the restaurant.”
She went stock still, her teeth clamping hard on her lip until the peachy skin turned white.
He kept moving forward. “We don’t know if it has anything to do with you. We’re being care—”
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The low whine of a siren called out and stopped Finn in his tracks. Joselyn whipped around; the LCD screen over her shoulder flashing red.
“Finn.” The tremor in her voice fired a ripple of dread through his body. She turned slowly and looked him dead in the eye. “Someone’s in the house.”
Chapter 35
Joselyn Whyte
Don’t panic.
A thread of terror zip-lined through her system. Her thoughts splintering. Someone with a gun. Someone trying to kill her. Someone inside this massive house. Run. Hide. Move.
Self-preservation instincts had apparently booted her brain out of the driver’s seat because she found herself running down the hall, jerking Finn behind her.
“Joselyn, stop. Where are we going? I need to—” Not knowing where the oomph came from to tug along a resistant 200-pound tower of brawn and stubbornness, she hauled Finn into the east den to the third bookcase on the left. With quick precision, she located and levered down Milton’s Paradise Lost and then shoved Finn behind the hidden door.
The lock clicked behind them, and Joselyn activated the screen to the right.
“Wow. That was unexpected.” From the corner of her eye she could sense his anxiety pulsing in time with the spastic rhythm of his chest. Knowing she would come completely unglued if she saw that panic reflected in his eyes, she studied the screen, attempting to make sense of the defunct security system.
“Joss.” The heat from his hands seeped through the fabric of her sleeves as he gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him.
She kept her eyes low to conceal her doubts, but she suspected he could feel the palpable current of fear skittering through her body.
“Look at me.” His fingers tightened on her arms. She lifted her gaze. “I want you to stay here, lock the door behind me, and call 911.” His eyes said so much more as they lingered a moment longer.
Turning away, he jerked at the door. But it didn’t budge.
“Joss, open the door.” He spoke into the door, the tense line of his shoulders seeming to coil like a snake about to strike.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“I’m going out there. I’m not gonna sit around and cower behind a locked door until help arrives. This guy could get away, and we still don’t know who he is. This has to end. Now disarm the door.” He was still facing the exit, as if he couldn’t stand for her to see his face. With his voice skating on the razor’s edge of menace, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
“I can’t.” And she was relieved she couldn’t.
He whirred around. “What do you mean you can’t?” he roared. His eyes were glazed with fire, a violence in them she’d never seen before.
Had she just thought she was relieved? Scratch that.
She took a step back. Then another. Putting distance between them. Her heart a panicked bird in a cage, the frigid outpouring of that old terror bathed her skin with goosebumps and wracked her whole body with tremors. “I—It’s—ah—p—panic room. There’s a timer, but the security system isn’t working right. We’re l—locked in here.” Together.
Finn wouldn’t hurt her, would he? The wild rage in his eyes drew upon her every fear until she was immersed back in those torturous moments when her instincts had failed her.
Finn took a step forward, his eyes softening. But she’d already jumped back, bumping into a shelf on the wall.
Seeming just as startled, he raised his hands and eased forward. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Not trusting her voice, she could only nod her acceptance. But the paralyzing fear held on.
He kept closing in, and she had no place to run. With aching tenderness he surrounded her with his arms and breathed the soothing words into her hair. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
Without even knowing it, her heart started to settle, her breaths evened out. And somehow her arms were around his waist, her face nuzzling into his chest.
Oh, her traitorous heart was so easily won.
“It’s fine.” She pulled away, sniffling back embarrassing tears.
Finn took in their surroundings. “So, now what?”
Joselyn’s father had always been paranoid about others being out to get him, stealing his wealth, taking what was his. She supposed it was why the estate had two vaults, or panic rooms. One in the west wing, one in the east.
Only they sort of looked like walk-in closets—as if the house were lacking storage space. Everything from winter coats, bottled water, a card table and folding chairs, to some innocuous boxes and a stack of blankets lined the shelves of the maybe twelve-by-twelve room. Though not much of that was inherently visible due to the black walls and the single canned light in the middle of the room that suggested the receding darkness was endless. It felt like one of those interrogation rooms on CSI.
“I guess we wait,” Joselyn said. “Wait until either the timer runs out or the authorities arrive. Hopefully the alarm is functioning enough to trigger a call out because I left my purse by the front door.”
Finn patted his pockets and groaned. “And my phone is in my jacket on the table. I hate feeling this helpless.”
The last of her unease about Finn’s presence wicked away. The intensity he’d shown was his protective instinct urging him to fight for her. The thought now warmed her clear down to her toes.
The shaft of light glinted off the golden threads of his hair and spilled over the planes of his face, etching the angles with a fierce sort of strength.
And then he smiled, a little bit of mischief slipping through the sultry tip of his lips, making all traces of danger seem like a silly dream. “You know, we’re still technically on our date. It’s about time we had a little privacy. Don’t you think?”
Heat pinched her cheeks. Hopefully the shadows concealed the way the thought tempted her. “Stop looking at me like I’m a tasty snack.”
“But you are a tasty snack. And after that Happy Meal appetizer for the paparazzi, I’m finding I’m suddenly famished.”
Strangely emboldened, she stepped up to meet him under the light and patted his washboard stomach. Bad idea. Terrible. She snatched her hand back as if burned. “Poor little fella. Unfortunately, I am not on the menu tonight.”
What were they going to do, make out in the c
loset until someone found them? Based on the heat they could conjure up without even touching, they could get carried away a little too easily.
And one of them had to be the sensible one here, right?
Right?
Finn’s eyes blazed with hunger, that heady musk of strength and spice laid waste to the inches between them, making her burn. As if grasping fistfuls of sun-scorched sand, she felt her willpower sift through her fingers.
In the only act of self-preservation she could find, she turned back, pretending to peruse the shelves for a distraction yet still feeling the singe of his stare.
“Hard to get, huh? Yeah, that’s kinda hot. I can work with that. But mark my words, you’ll never last. By the end of the night, you’ll be begging for these lips on yours.”
Oh, yeah. There was the old Finn. “Wanna bet?” She whipped around, feeling shielded by the dim light until she realized he’d followed her into the shadow.
“Oh, babe, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, let’s make it official.” Another bold step brought him into her air space.
“Okay, what’s the wager?” She stared up through the whispered streams of light, catching that cocky smile he loved so much.
An idea took root in her mind. Joselyn couldn’t help but smirk. “I know, how about a little performance?”
He leaned down and stole a quick kiss she couldn’t have dodged if she wanted to. Which, she didn’t. “Performance. Now we’re talking.” The devilment in his grin made him look like a fallen angel in the haloed glow. “What’d you have in mind?”
She shrugged, struggling to contain her grin. “Just a song. Choreography optional.”
“Is clothing optional too? Because I could get on board with that?”
“Ha!” Oh, he was all bluster. She could see the sweat sprouting on his brow at the idea.
From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two Page 26
