Dangerous

by Audrey Alexander

  Dangerous

  Copyright © 2016 Audrey Alexander

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electrical or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage or retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

  Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Interior design and layout by Audrey Alexander

  Chapter icons made by Freepik

  Jace Holt watched the pair of pouty pink lips as he took another sip of his gin and tonic, his ears tuned more into the bland pop music playing on the blonde’s stereo than on the words spilling from her pretty mouth. He’d gone out this fine Manhattan evening to finally score some scintillating and alluring company, and he’d thought he’d found it in the sweet girl sipping martinis at his favorite cocktail bar. But instead of feeling aroused, he was bored.

  “What do you think?” she asked, leaning forward and placing a manicured hand on his knee. Under normal circumstances, he would have grabbed that hand and twisted it over her head, but he felt no desire to do such a thing tonight.

  He blinked and gave her the faux-smile he tended to dole out during endless business meetings. “I don’t believe I’m following.”

  She frowned, not even the hint of a wrinkle crinkling her forehead. She’s too young, Jace thought. That was his problem. Looking at her now, it was clear. She’d seemed so mature at the bar, but here at home in her tiny studio apartment, she came across much too innocent and worry-free. New to the city, probably. Most likely hoping to end up on Broadway like many of the other young transplants from places like Tennessee or Kansas or whatever state they came from.

  He realized he knew nothing about her. I should probably ask, he thought. Instead, he noticed she was staring at him again, narrowing her eyes and pouting those full lips that would have usually done more to keep his attention. He’d stopped listening to her again.

  “Beyonce,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I was asking what you think about Beyonce. Clearly not much.”

  “I have to admit, I’ve never thought enough about Beyonce to form an opinion on her.” He flicked his wrist and glanced at his Rolex. “I’m sorry. I know I must seem distant, but I forgot an important business matter I need to attend to tonight. I need to head back to my hotel.”

  Her face fell. “You mean, right now?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Jace swept up from the couch and buttoned his suit jacket. The blonde stood slowly and watched as he took one last swig of his gin and tonic. At least she made a good drink. He had to give her that. If only she were a tad more his type, he might stay and see what she had hidden under that tight little black dress. As it were, he just didn’t feel that spark he’d been looking for recently. Someone with a mind, someone with opinions, someone like…well, he couldn’t let himself go there. She was off-limits, and it was no sense comparing every girl he met to her.

  Of course, did he really need someone interesting for a one-night stand? His eyes flicked over the blonde beauty, and he felt no arousal at all. No, he just couldn’t do it. Not tonight.

  He gave the girl a quick kiss on the cheek and struggled to retrieve her name from his alcohol-addled brain. He’d had a few too many gins tonight. Madison, that was it. “Goodnight, Madison. It was nice meeting you.”

  “Nice meeting you, too.” She slammed the door behind him, and he swore he heard her grumble “asshole” under her breath.

  Funny, he usually got called an asshole for sleeping with women, not for leaving them home innocent and free from his telltale marks.

  He smirked. I just can’t win, can I?

  Jace headed outside and made his way back to his uptown penthouse, opting to walk the ten blocks rather than hail down a cab or call for his usual driver. It was a crisp night in Manhattan, and the cool air helped clear his mind as the familiar sounds of the vibrant city settled over him. He really didn’t know what had gotten into him lately. If he were looking for a wife, it would make sense. But he was Jace Holt—hotel tycoon, billionaire, and one of the most eligible bachelors in the five boroughs.

  He could have any woman he wanted.

  Except for one, he reminded himself. Shaking his head, he swiped his keycard at the back door of The Grand Rizzato, one of his many hotels. It was his preferred method of arriving home. Despite his very public life, he didn’t like the world knowing his every move. For the past few weeks, the paparazzi had been camping outside the front revolving doors to try and catch him out in some sort of scandal again. Ever since he’d slept with the daughter of his biggest rival last year, real estate developer Anders Holland, every photographer in the city had come out of the woodwork, hounding him down to find some new dirt.

  He sighed and closed his eyes as his private elevator chugged up to the top floor. Maybe it was for the best anyway. He could have one last drink by the fire while reading the briefs for tomorrow’s meeting with the developers. He’d have more time for a fling when work wasn’t so busy.

  When the elevator slid to a stop, Jace strode down the short hallway to his penthouse door and pressed the keycard against the lock. The door clicked open, and he stepped inside the loft, the glittering lights of the city sparkling through his floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the sleek black furniture and smooth stone walls.

  He’d have to do a better job when scouting for his next fling. She needed to be smart, capable, strong. But not too strong. He liked them to bend to his commands, yet still be capable of having a mind of their own. It was just too damn hard to find a girl like that these days.

  Something slick caught Jace’s eye as he slid his suit jacket from his shoulders. A dark splotch of red beside his marble kitchen island. Frowning, he glanced around the silent penthouse. He didn’t remember opening a glass of red recently, and even if he had, Priscilla usually took care of that kind of thing when he was out for the evening.

  He took two steps closer to the kitchen island and sucked in a sharp breath when a pair of shoes shifted into view. A pair of shoes that also happened to be connected to a body stretched across his tiled kitchen floor, with arms and legs splayed in every direction.

  Jace stayed silent as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He peered at the lifeless body before him, his hands clenching by his sides. Jace didn’t quite understand what had happened here tonight. All he knew was that there was a dead man on his floor, and the blood seeping from the body’s head was a clear sign his death couldn’t have happened that long ago.

  Jace took another step closer, and his shoe crunched on glass. Frowning, he crouched to see the man’s face. And when the view became clear, he almost had to recoil from the shock of it.

  The dead man on his floor was his biggest rival, Anders Holland.

  Carrie Simmons curled up on the couch next to her purring cat, Coco, as she read over the case notes. Things had been amping up lately at the firm, and she knew if she nailed the next few cases, she could make partner. Lately, rumors had been circling that several of the senior associates were being considered, Carrie included, and she was determined to do whatever it took to succeed. Even if that meant staying up late to pore over her notes every night before bed.

  She rolled back her shoulders and got to work, but just as soon as her mind settled on the words on her laptop, her cellphone buzzed. Frowning, she set aside her laptop and reached for her phone. She usually didn’t get calls this late. It was well past midnight after all. When she saw the caller’s name on the display, her frown deepened. Why would Jace be calling her at this time of night? She hoped nothing had happened to someone in the family.

  “Jace?” she answered the phone, her voice slightly hitched. Carrie wasn’t usually the kind of girl to let anyone see or hear her flustered, but she couldn’
t stop the worry from creeping into her mind. And besides, Jace wasn’t just anyone. He never had been, even before their parents had gotten married.

  “Carrie, I need your help.” His voice sounded low and strained, and she jerked up from the couch, startling Coco who let out a yelp. “Something’s happened.”

  “What do you mean something’s happened?” She turned the volume down on her stereo to better hear his words. He was talking so quietly she could barely understand anything he said. “Is my mother okay? Is it my grandparents?”

  “This has nothing to do with the family.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t think I should explain it to you over the phone. Come over to my place so I can show you.”

  “Come over to your place? In the middle of the night?” Carrie swallowed and stared down at her hardwood floor. She hadn’t been alone with Jace in years. Not since their parents had been married, and they’d thrown up an emotional wall to block everything between them. “Jace, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

  “Will you come over here?” Jace’s voice was strained, and her heart skipped a beat at how raw it sounded. “I wouldn’t have called you if you weren’t the only person who could help me with this. Don’t make me ask again.”

  Breath seeped out from between Carrie’s lips, and she found herself nodding her head. She didn’t understand what was happening, but she knew that Jace wouldn’t ask her like this if it wasn’t important. He was the charming, suave, Upper East Side billionaire everyone either wanted to be or wanted to be sleeping with. Nothing ever fazed him. He didn’t ask anyone to do a damn thing. Until now.

  “Okay, give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be over.”

  “Oh, and Carrie?” he said. “Come in through the back.”

  Carrie’s stomach curled into tight knots. “Why?”

  “Just trust me on this one. Come in through the back.”

  It only took Carrie five minutes to swap her flannel pajamas for a pair of boyfriend jeans and a maroon sweater. She’d thought about wearing her usual go-to clothes: a skirt suit and heels. But then she thought better of it. Even though she rarely left the house in anything but a professional suit, all she was doing was going to Jace’s hotel to help him with…something.

  Whatever that something was had her palms slick. Or maybe that was just the idea of being alone with Jace in his swanky penthouse.

  The five-star hotel on Fifth Avenue was only a few blocks away from Carrie’s own Upper East Side apartment, and when she reached the front archway of The Grand Rizzato, she swept past the line of limos idling outside the row of revolving glass doors and edged around the corner. It made her feel a little like a thief or a spy, especially when she reached an unmarked doorway devoid of a handle or even a lock. The only sign it actually led anywhere was the blinking security panel on the right.

  She gave a quick knock on the door. A moment later, a buzz erupted into the night, and the door swung open. Steeling herself against the man she was about to see, she took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  Jace Holt stood in a thin hallway, his rugged face pale and pulled down in a deep frown. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, and it took all of Carrie’s control to keep her eyes from trailing down to what his open shirt would surely reveal. Jace had always been handsome, even in college when he’d been as skinny as a Manhattan lamp post. But as he’d aged and gotten more serious about his physique, his muscles had filled out in all the right places, and his face had become more defined. When she looked at him now, she couldn’t see the baby-faced freshmen she’d met at eighteen, not with his chiseled jaw covered in just the right amount of scruff.

  The sight of him almost left her weak in the knees.

  “Thanks for coming, Carrie,” he said, motioning for her to lead the way to his private elevator. That was one thing about him that hadn’t changed. He’d always been a gentleman, though a commanding one, a rarity amongst all the guys she’d met back in college.

  “When are you going to tell me what this is about?” she asked, her sneakers squeaking as she slid into the pristine elevator.

  “It’s upstairs in my penthouse.” He pushed the button, and the elevator doors whizzed shut. Carrie risked a glance at Jace’s face to try and get a better read on his emotions. He was acting so cagey, so ruffled, so spooked. She’d never seen him like this before.

  She held her breath when she caught him gazing down at her with a strange expression on his face. His eyes flicked across her shirt, then her jeans, and then her shoes. Through the haunted expression on his face, she swore she saw the ghost of a smile flicker across his lips.

  “You look different.” He tugged the loose tie around his neck. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you out of a suit.”

  Heat blazed across Carrie’s cheeks, and she glanced away.

  “It looks good on you. You seem more relaxed.” He reached out and pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “You should dress like this more often.”

  Irritation stormed through her chest, erasing the warmth she’d thought she felt between them. He’d always been like this, too. Bossy and commanding. And he’d only gotten worse since he’d decided his growing wealth was the most important thing in the world.

  “And you should remember you asked me here to help, not judge my fashion choices.” Her words came out in a snap. She couldn’t help it. He always got under her skin when he talked this way.

  Uneasy silence filled the elevator until the doors whirred open. Carrie stepped out onto the plush carpet and waited while Jace unlocked his penthouse door with his keycard. As she stared at his back and the rippling muscles underneath his wrinkled shirt, she couldn’t help but wonder why she’d come here. Just because he called for help didn’t mean she had to come running.

  Just as Jace swung the door open, he paused and said, “I should warn you that this may be unpleasant. When you see what’s on my kitchen floor, I need you to promise you won’t scream.”

  Jace watched as Carrie paced the floor with her hands jammed into her long and luscious dark hair. She hadn’t screamed when she’d seen the body, just like she’d promised, but she sure as hell had muttered some choice words about Jace’s decision to bring her into the middle of this. Whatever this was.

  His eyes were drawn to that cute little sweater and the way it hugged her perfect curves. And those jeans. Her ass looked damn good in those jeans. Maybe, he thought, even better than it had in college. She might be ten years older than the day they’d met, but she looked better now than she ever had.

  Your father married her mother, Jace.

  He shook off those thoughts, holding up a hand to stop Carrie’s pacing. “I realize this looks bad. That’s why I called you.”

  “You’re damn straight it looks bad,” Carrie said, shaking her head. “There’s a dead guy on your floor with a bullet hole in his skull. How did he end up here like this, Jace?”

  He stiffened. “I hope you’re not asking me if I did it.”

  She sighed, her eyes fluttering shut. “Of course I’m not asking if you did it.”

  “Then, you’ll help me,” he said. “You’re the best lawyer I know. The only one I can trust with this.”

  “Corporate lawyer.” Her eyes flicked open. “I’m no expert on criminal law, Jace.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  Their gazes met across the kitchen, and something in the way her eyes drifted down sent a thrill through his heart. He could have sworn her reddened cheeks betrayed a flash of desire. He knew that look on her very well. Glancing down, he noticed his unbuttoned shirt revealed his tense pecs. So that’s what she’d been staring at…

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “Tell me everything that happened tonight. And do it fast, because we really don’t have much time to figure this out.”

  Jace frowned. “I don’t understand why time should be a factor.”

  “Because the longer we wait, the worse this is going to look when we call the cops.” Her big blue eyes
stared right into his, and he read the warning she was trying to convey. The first person they were going to point the finger at was him. He’d known that, of course, but he’d not really let the thought sink in, too distracted by Carrie’s perky breasts.

  “They won’t arrest me without some proof. I’m Jace Holt.” He smoothed down the front of his wrinkled shirt and squared his shoulders. While he had no close friends on the force, the NYPD had always been cooperative when he needed their assistance with various matters. He imagined that positive relationship would come in handy.

  Carrie rolled her eyes before her gaze drifted down to the dead man. “I don’t care if you’re Brad Pitt. You’ve got a body on your floor. Now, tell me what happened tonight.”

  Jace winced as he thought back to the night’s events. Telling Carrie he’d gone out for drinks in order to seek a hot night between the sheets wasn’t exactly on the top of the list of things he’d like to do with her right now, but he knew he didn’t have much of a choice unless he wanted to look even more guilty than he already did.

  “Around eleven or so, I went out to have a drink at one of my usual places.”

  Her eyes lit up as she turned away from the body. “This might not be so tricky after all. Did anyone see you?”

  “The bartender knows me. He served me a drink,” he said with a nod. “There was also a girl. I left with her after we had a chat.”

  Carrie’s face fell for only a moment, but he caught the expression before she painted over it with disdain. Her eyes flicked toward the one interior wall in his penthouse, the one that separated the rest of the loft from Jace’s bedroom. “Please tell me she’s not still in there.”

  “Of course not. She was never here. I don’t mix my extracurricular activities with business, and even though it’s my current home, this hotel is my business.”

  “Your extracurricular activities?” Carrie coughed out a strained laugh and shook her head. “Is that why you had me come in through the back door? So no one would think I was one of your extracurricular activities?”