by L. A. Fiore
Two hours later, he had his answer. A detective Zac Ashton was requesting a meeting. He begrudgingly had to give it to the homicide detective. Samantha James wasn’t high profile, but he wasn’t letting any flies settle. That would be of some comfort to her family. He’d asked Penelope to send the detective in when he arrived. It wasn’t going to be a long conversation because there was little Kade could tell him. Not taking the meeting would raise suspicion and he didn’t have time for that bullshit.
He heard the knock before the door opened. He didn’t look up from his papers when Penelope said, “Detectives Ashton and Donahue.”
He glanced up then, his focus passing the tall man with dark hair and cop eyes, dressed in a cheap suit, and an even cheaper overcoat, and settled on the woman with him, a female homicide detective. She, too, was in a suit: a black pantsuit, a white button-down that looked like it might be a man’s cut. Her black hair was pulled up into a knot. She wasn’t wearing makeup and had the biggest, bluest eyes he’d every seen. Most women in his presence got that look. He wasn’t being arrogant; he knew the appeal he had on women. He played on it sometimes, but this woman looked at him like he was, well, a suspect…cold and calculating. If she was sweating under her cotton shirt, he couldn’t tell.
He stood and gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please have a seat.”
Ashton was the senior partner; it was subtle, the two played off each other well, but Ashton was the first to move. And when they sat, he was the first to talk.
“We’re here about Samantha James.” There was a touch of arrogance in Ashton’s tone. Kade knew the type: hardworking, middle class, and not a fan of the rich, the entitled or the pampered. For a detective, making blanket assumptions was a hazard, but then Kade knew most of the time that assumption was right.
Not one to allow another to set the tone of a meeting, he ignored Aston and turned his attention to his partner. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Her eyes were mesmerizing. Not just the size and color, but, despite his earlier observation, there was a spark in them. Not so cool and calculating, but smart because she knew what he was doing.
“We’re good, thanks.”
On the outside, Kade had no reaction to her husky voice, but on the inside, it was like taking a hit to the gut. He held her stare, waited and wasn’t disappointed to see interest…just a spark of it, but her pupils definitely dilated. He’d bet money she was sweating under her clothes now. The idea of peeling her out of them, so he could lick…
His reaction to her surprised him, but he shut it down and turned his attention to Ashton. “I can’t tell you much about Samantha James. I’m aware she was at the reception last night, but our paths didn’t cross. My assistant was working on getting her an interview for our public relations department. You might want to talk with her.”
Ashton pulled out a notepad and jotted that down. “We’ll do that.” His eyes lifted. “Where were you between eight and ten last night?”
“The reception. Penelope can give you a list of people who can verify that.”
The way Ashton snapped closed his notepad, he’d been hoping Kade would be less cooperative. The idea that they thought he was in anyway involved in the woman’s death pissed him off, but he held that in, too. “May I ask what happened to her?”
“It’s an active investigation,” Ashton replied curtly.
The party line, he wasn’t surprised by the reply. He was surprised when Donahue added, “She was stabbed in the park last night during a run.”
Her partner was surprised, too, when his attention snapped to her. She didn’t care, her focus lingering on Kade. She then took lead when she stood and offered her card. “Thanks for taking the time to see us. If you think of anything, please call me.”
Kade didn’t look at the card; his focus was on her. Her partner stood and walked to the door. She didn’t move, deliberately waiting a beat, before she smiled and turned for the door, not looking back until she reached it. “We’ll just have a word with your assistant and then we’ll be on our way.”
Kade nodded, and waited until the door closed, before he looked down at the card. Detective Molly Donahue. He ran his thumb over the embossed print before he slipped the card in his pocket. Taking his seat, he didn’t get back to work. It sounded as if Samantha James had been a victim of a random killing. It was possible the detectives were just dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s, before the case went cold like so many did, or was there something more about her case that piqued their interest? Penelope was linked, however obscurely, to the investigation. He was, too, and he’d learned early on to never find yourself in a situation where you didn’t know all the players. He reached for his private line and made a call. It was answered on the first ring. “Find out everything you can on Samantha James. Yes, the murder victim from last night.” He almost ended the call, but then added, “Find out everything on homicide Detective Molly Donahue, too.” He didn’t wait for a reply and hung up. His first request was business, and it was smart. The second request was to appease his curiosity.
Bridget Dubois picked at her salad, had turned down the stuffed mushrooms, and the chicken parmigiana that had been the best he’d ever tasted. She was a super model, exquisite bone structure, long platinum blonde hair, lips that had been augmented but worked with her face, but she needed to eat a hamburger, a bacon double burger and fries. A milkshake wouldn’t hurt, either. Kade reached for his glass of Duclot Bordeaux, studying his companion from over the rim, as he took a sip.
He couldn’t keep the smile from his voice when he asked, “You’ll not be wanting dessert I’m assuming.”
“No, I’ve eaten too much already.”
She’d eaten next to nothing.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Bridget didn’t wait for him to reply. He knew she was going to the bathroom to purge. It was sad. He wouldn’t be seeing her again. Trying to fix other people’s problems wasn’t his business, and he, honestly, had no desire to do it.
He’d picked this restaurant because he was contemplating becoming a silent partner. Several associates mentioned the place to him. After his first visit, he dined there regularly, toured the kitchen, and studied their financials, but the selling point for him was the food. He’d been to the finest restaurants in Italy, and this place could hold its own. Anita Valentino, owner and mastermind behind the recipes, was having trouble with the increased rent and taxes. It’d be a crime for the city to lose this little gem. He’d have his lawyer draw up the papers in the morning.
A woman at the bar caught his attention, or, rather, it was the black bandage dress she wore that showed off her curves to perfection. His eyes moved to her legs that were long and toned, ending in black stilettos that screamed sex. A jolt of heat raced through his veins. He rarely experienced so visceral a reaction to someone. He was around beautiful women all the time, but there was something about the curvy, raven-haired beauty that made his blood burn, and he hadn’t even seen her face. She wasn’t alone, a man stood at her side. From their body language, he was guessing it was a first date. He’d bet his bank account she wasn’t into him by the way she held herself at a distance. A woman who dressed like that was open to the idea of connecting. She wanted to connect, and she had put the effort into the date. He found himself annoyed for her because the same couldn’t be said of her companion. That had him studying the man. He was definitely out of his element. His clothes weren’t his size, he kept pulling a hand through his hair and then he picked his nose. Kade wasn’t surprised by a lot, but watching a grown ass man, on a date, picking his nose, what the fuck. The woman turned, Kade almost spit out the wine he’d just sipped. At first, he thought he was seeing things because he’d been thinking about Detective Donahue far more than he’d like to admit, so seeing her again, so soon, seemed serendipitous.
He couldn’t help the smile because she was looking for an escape. He didn
’t act without weighing the options, but apparently, he was having a problem with that lately because he reached into his pocket for his phone. He didn’t let himself think about the fact that he’d memorized her number. It rang, and she reached for it like a lifeline.
“Detective Donahue.” There was hope in her voice, a murder to get her out of her date.
“Detective.” He enjoyed the color that rose on her cheeks, her hand going to her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear. He liked it even more that she knew who he was by his voice. Oh yeah, there was definitely interest.
“Mr. Wakefield.”
“Kade,” he corrected.
He caught the grin before she replied, “Kade.”
“Look to your right.”
Her spine went stiff, seconds before she turned, her eyes roaming the dining area, growing wide when they landed on him. Her focus then shifted, and he followed it to see Bridget walking toward the table.
“Is that Bridget Dubois?” she asked, but not with the awe that Penelope would have had. It was simply stated.
“Yes. Do you need a rescue?”
That got him her eyes again, and a smile followed. His own moving to her lips, as something elemental burned through him. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.
She said only one word, but all the scenarios that she could say that word to him had his pants growing snug. “Please.”
He stood and disconnected the call, reached for Bridget’s arm and escorted her to the door. “Something’s come up. My driver will take you home.”
Levy was already holding the door open for her.
“When will I see you again?”
She wouldn’t be, but to her, he said, “We’ll see if we can get something on the books.”
She smiled at him. He kissed her cheek. Once she was in the car, he turned back to the restaurant. “I’ll text you when I need you, Levy.” He reached the door, glanced over his shoulder and added, “Thank you for taking her home.”
Levy nodded, before climbing into the car. Kade didn’t linger, strolling into the restaurant with determined strides. He caught sight of Molly, the stark desperation on her face. He could have played it in any number of ways, but he settled on taking her hand, not even acknowledging her date, and pulling her from the restaurant. She went willingly, almost running to keep up with him. He waited until they were halfway down the street before he looked over at her because feeling her small hand in his brought on a wave of protectiveness. The sensation was a foreign one.
Her face was flush, and her eyes bright. “I owe you,” she said, her husky voice a little breathless.
He studied her face. She wasn’t wearing much makeup: just a little mascara and her lips were tinted. Her hair was down, falling in soft waves around her face. He’d just dined with the hottest super model of the time, but the woman at his side was the one who stirred his blood.
“You didn’t eat.” He wasn’t asking.
“I didn’t. Two nights in a row.”
His brow rose at that.
She waved it off. “I think I need to take a break from dating.”
The almost primal reaction he had to that alarmed him. He ignored it. “I know a place.”
She stopped walking. “But you just ate.”
“You didn’t.”
“I’ll order a pizza.”
He let his eyes wander over her body, and the luscious curves that were on display for his viewing pleasure. There was no way he was letting her go home. Not yet. “You’re already dressed.”
Her mouth opened to object, but he could see she didn’t want to. He made it easy for her when he said, “You owe me.”
Her eyes narrowed before she smiled. “And taking me to dinner is what you want.”
He let those words hang in the air between them, for a few seconds, before he replied, “Please.”
The heat behind those blue eyes had him clenching his jaw because, fuck, he wanted her. He didn’t even know her, but he wanted her. He should be going in the other direction. He knew better; instead, he held her hand tighter. When he started walking, she was right there with him.
Four
Molly
I felt his eyes on me, those intense gray eyes that shared nothing. He watched me almost dispassionately, and yet, he’d rescued me from another horrible date and insisted on feeding me. I focused on my food because I couldn’t actually believe I was here. In his office earlier, the man seemed almost untouchable, and, undeniably, beautiful with his chiseled features, dark hair that a woman just wanted to pull her hands through and those stormy gray eyes. The way he read the room, picking up on Zac’s penchant for jumping to conclusions when it came to the wealthy. He’d agreed to see us, didn’t make us wait, and had been forthcoming. We couldn’t have asked for more. Hearing his voice on the phone, deep with a hint of an accent I couldn’t place, was one I’d know anywhere. I’d been desperately looking for a way out of my evening. I never in a million years would have thought my rescue would be at the hand of Kade Wakefield.
The heat of the curried shrimp lingered on my tongue. I was tempted to scrape my fork over the china to get the last drop of sauce, but I controlled the urge. Placing my fork down, I lifted my gaze to his. “That was amazing.” He was studying me, the only word to describe it. I felt self-conscious, but I pushed past it and looked around the club. He’d brought me to Polar. I’d heard of it, had never been inside. There was dancing, a bar that was shoulder-to-shoulder, waitresses in tight tees, skirts and three inch heels walking around balancing trays loaded with drinks, but we were on the other side of the club. A jazz ensemble was on the stage, the tables covered in linen cloths, and the waitstaff were dressed a bit more formally in black and white.
I reached for my glass of wine and turned my attention back to the man opposite me. “Thank you for the rescue.” I took a sip, holding his stare.
“Anytime.”
I grinned, couldn’t help it, because it was just something people said, but the thought of calling Kade Wakefield, every time I needed rescuing from a date, held its appeal, and considering my string of bad luck, I’d be calling him a lot.
His focus was on my mouth, and I swear his eyes looked darker. He didn’t move his gaze when he stated, “He wasn’t right for you.”
“Those dating sites are not all they’re cracked up to be,” I said, taking another sip of wine.
His focus jerked to my face. “Why are you using a dating site?”
There was a bite to his words, and I couldn’t lie, it felt nice hearing disbelief in his voice. “I don’t have a lot of free time, and my circle is pretty limited.” I shrugged and placed my glass down. “Those sites open up my circle.”
He reached for his whiskey; his accent, a little more pronounced, when he said, “Whatever site paired you with him doesn’t know shit.”
Those words shouldn’t have had the effect on me they did, but I actually felt them, a slow wave of warmth that moved from my head right down to my toes. I shook myself out of it. This was Kade Wakefield. The man had just dined with Bridget Dubois. We didn’t move in the same circle; hell, he wasn’t even on the same plane.
“Bridget is even more beautiful in real life,” I said.
He didn’t reply, just placed his glass on the table.
The waiter returned and asked, “Would you like dessert?”
Kade looked at me and waited for my reply. I’d love dessert, but there was no way I could eat it. It was with regret when I said, “No, thanks. I’m good.”
Kade studied me again, reading me perfectly, when he said, “The spicy chocolate cake to go, and the check.”
“Very good.”
“You’re very good at reading people,” I said on a chuckle, looking around the club again.
He had no reply, but he did ask, “Why a homicide detective?”
I dro
pped my elbows on the table, meeting his stare. “I like puzzles. As a detective, I have the final image, but I have to go back and figure out how all the pieces come together.”
He held my stare and asked, “But why the dead? Why not something less brutal?”
“Because all the beauty of a life is overshadowed when someone is murdered. It’s like their whole life is summed up with how they died and not who they were. I give them a voice, and, hopefully, peace when I bring their killer to justice.”
“You grew up in the city?” he asked.
“I grew up in Jersey, Marlton. Went to Columbia and stayed. I love it here.”
“Siblings?”
“No, it’s just me. Mom and Dad had me later in life. They had all but given up on having children, and then they had me. My birthday is in December, so they call me their miracle.” I liked the way he listened, the way I held his undivided attention, as if there was no one else in the room. What would it feel like to be his? The thought came out of nowhere, but it lingered. “Where are you from? Your accent, I can’t place it.”
The waiter appeared to drop off my dessert and the check. Whatever spell had been weaving between us broke. Kade reached for his wallet, dropped a few bills in the black folder, then stood. “I should get you home.”
I was disappointed, sure, but then I never thought I’d be here, so I really couldn’t look at the evening as anything but what it was, unexpected and awesome.
He had me precede him from the club. Stepping outside, a black car was waiting. A man was holding the door open. “Levy will take you home.”
I thought Kade was joining me, but he didn’t move from his place on the sidewalk. “Are you not coming?”
“No.”
I wondered what brought on the change. It was tempting to ask him, but I could read people, too, and knew it’d be a wasted effort. I didn’t immediately climb into the car, lingered longer than was polite, because how often would I be this close to this man. He really was beautiful. I wasn’t in his fan club, didn’t follow his every move like so many did. To me, he was much like the stars…beautiful and completely untouchable. Our paths crossed under unfortunate circumstances, but whatever it was that had us bumping into each other tonight, fate or just plain old luck, I knew I’d always remember the evening. “Thank you for dinner and the rescue.”
