by Vanessa Dare
“That’s why you’re here? Because we’re both…bad?”
“I’m here because there was something between us last week, regardless of our pasts.” He walked toward me with his slow, easy gait. “In my office last week I was a hypocrite, treating you the way I did and making you feel bad about being bad when I’m the exact same way. What right did I have to judge?” He shrugged. “I was an asshole and I’m sorry about that. I’m here because I couldn’t forget your eyes, the softness of your skin. I couldn’t forget you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Grif
Anna’s mouth fell open at my words, her lower lip as soft and lush as I remembered. She wasn’t wearing her poker face now. The various emotions that flitted across her face were easy to read: sadness, confusion, surprise. I’d caught her completely off guard, just as I’d wanted. She couldn’t shore up her walls of defense that been in place last week. At the police station. In my office at Scorch. She looked more like the Anna I’d met at the wedding reception. Soft, endearing, honest.
To keep those walls down, I needed to distract her, to make her forget about erecting them. I knew just how to do that. I closed the final few feet between us, took the dirty clothes from her hands and dropped them back on the floor at our feet.
The hell of it was, I’d wanted her then, I still wanted her now. Even more so. I surrounded myself with assholes, thugs and criminals all day long. From what she’d just admitted, she fell under the criminal category. Her past was a turn-off—I wanted to avoid entanglements, especially intimate ones, with someone like her—but my dick didn’t seem to care.
The woman had no idea how twisted up, how fucked up, I was over her. Ever since I talked with Peters and her mysterious past, ever since Moretti had stirred up the confusion of my thoughts about what she was, she distracted me. Hell, she’d been distracting me since that first glimpse of her in the interrogation room. I couldn’t figure her out and that was completely screwing with me.
I’d followed her, watched her since I flew in the other day to learn her routine, to see if she met with Carmichael or anyone else. What I learned was that she ran three miles in the morning. Same route. Spent the day in her apartment, I assumed working, only came out to pick up dry cleaning at the place around the corner. The closest one. She didn’t say hi to anyone but the doorman. Didn’t smile. She seemed to consistently go to karate for a class that began at seven. That was it. No dates. No men spending the night. No clandestine meetings. No one, period. She stayed in her apartment, went to karate, and ran.
Who lived that way? I wasn’t one to talk. I did less socializing that she did. Working undercover meant I had zero life of my own. I, too, escaped by running as often as I could, but that wasn’t much when I was supposed to be one of Moretti’s lackeys. They didn’t exercise.
Anna couldn’t figure me out either, that was for sure. She was afraid of me. Of me! She had a cop keeping her safe from whatever ghost haunted her and she didn’t even know it. She thought I was going to kill her. Hell, why wouldn’t she? I’d given her that impression on the sidewalk in front of the bar. I’d been an asshole to her back in Denver and worked for Moretti who was a known criminal and showed up out of nowhere. With a gun. What else was she to think? Regardless of my words, no matter how sincere I’d said them, she didn’t believe me.
She was breathing fast, her eyes widened as I approached. Her adrenaline must be pumping. I’d invaded her personal space—her apartment—which spoke to who she was, her personality, the real Anna. It was more than obvious by the look of the place she never had guests. The look of surprise on the doorman’s face confirmed that. Hell, when I first walked in, I’d thought Moretti had sent someone else, tossing her place and waiting to kill her off instead of saving that for me. She was a contradiction; worldly enough to be a hired killer, but sheltered to the point where she didn’t allow anyone to get close, to invite them to her apartment.
I’d spent the time since Moretti’s ultimatum in my shitty apartment, fumbling for an answer. How the hell was I going to save her? I didn’t hurt women, let alone kill them, but Anna didn’t know that. Sure, I could go undercover and do some bad stuff, but pulling off a hit crossed the line. I couldn’t have said no to Moretti. She was as good as dead if I had. He’d send someone else, someone who had no problem putting a bullet in Anna’s brain.
She just admitted she did some bad stuff, might even work for Frank Carmichael, like Moretti suspected, but that didn’t mean she should die. I may have been tasked with killing her, but my personal objective was to figure out how to keep her alive. The only way to do that was to stay close to her.
The first thing: I had to get her to believe I liked her alive. In fact, I just needed her to like me again. She hated me. Right or wrong, it was true. No woman wanted to be stuck with an asshole, so I had to make amends. Somehow.
I looked down at the front of her T-shirt, checked out the logo and name of her karate school as I tried to ignore the lush curve of her breasts. “Last week, when you said you’d learned to defend yourself by doing karate, you were telling the truth.”
Anna licked her lips. “Everything I said was the truth.”
I watched her tongue dart out and had a quick mental picture of her tongue running over the head of my cock.
I nodded absently, ran a hand over her dark hair. She flinched, but I had to feel how silky it was. Even pulled back securely, it was sleek and smooth. “Ever done that before? Outside of karate class.”
“Take a guy down?” She shook her head as she stepped back, nervous. I was close, too close for comfort for her. She was filled with restless energy with her laundry shield gone. “No, never.”
“Felt good, huh?”
She flicked her gaze to me, gifted me with a grin. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing.”
That smile, God, that smile. It did things to me, made me feel…just made me feel. I had hot women surround me night after night at Scorch. Peters had been right—phone numbers on panties wasn’t anything new to me. But Anna, simple, uptight Anna had me craving her smiles. Made me want to do things to her, make her feel things, see things, experience life in a way that made her smile, and often. I was turning into a fucking Hallmark commercial, but I didn’t care.
“But you couldn’t share it with anyone. Couldn’t grin like you are now and feel good about how you handled that guy. Couldn’t tell your friends tonight over drinks because you were supposed to be tucked into your bed at the hotel that night, not at a trendy bar, right?”
Her smile dimmed. “No. I couldn’t tell anyone. I’ve never been able to tell anyone anything.”
I reached out and gave a gentle tug on her long ponytail. She gave a little gasp in response as I forced her head back so our eyes met. “Until now.” Neither of us were referring to karate anymore, but it was too deep, too much for her to delve into now, so I circled back to the guy at Scorch. “I saw what you did. Saw his face. It was really impressive.”
There it was again. Her smile. It was back and it was genuine. Color bloomed in her cheeks, her eyes lit up with something akin to happiness. I’d thought her beautiful back in the interrogation room in Denver, had told Peters that. Now, in her casual yet finicky outfit, her hair in a simple tail, only a hint of makeup on her face, she looked lovelier than ever. In my office at Scorch I hadn’t been able to see—or wanted to notice—how she had a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, how her dark eyes were fringed with equally dark and long lashes.
“I have to admit, it was pretty hot.” I couldn’t help my husky voice when her scent pulsed toward me with every frantic heartbeat against the soft skin at her neck. I ran a knuckle down her smooth cheek, hoping to soothe her, to appease my need to touch.
She stepped back, held up one hand. “Look, I don’t get you. You hated me, I mean you thought I was a total bitch for some reason. Now…now, you show up here all nice and…stuff.” She paused. “Saying what, that you’re attracted to me? What do you want me to thin
k?”
I didn’t blame her. I ran hot and cold like a faucet when around her. Being undercover made me wary of everyone, had me assume the worst. It was how I stayed alive. No woman could just be kind, thoughtful, sexy, brave. Women like that didn’t exist in Moretti-land. None had been worth taking the risk.
“At the reception, I pegged you for a woman not mixed up in the life. Sweet, sexy, innocent. Then you showed up at Scorch and I figured you worked for Moretti. I thought you played me.”
She stood there, frozen for a moment. “You really thought I worked for Moretti?”
I nodded. She really didn’t work for Moretti, which was good because she wouldn’t blow my cover, but it was still possible she worked for Carmichael. Right now, I didn’t really give a shit who she worked for.
“I’m going to kiss you,” I warned. I didn’t want her to panic, or worse, put me in a wrist lock. I watched her eyes dilate further, her tongue dart out to run over her lower lip I recognized now as a sign of nerves. “I have to. I have to know what you taste like.”
That was the only advanced warning I gave her right before I tugged on her shoulders, pulling her into me.
We were cut from the same cloth. Pasts to hide, secrets to keep. This chemistry, this intensity between us was something neither of us could deny. Something we could share with each other when our lives were full of secrets. It was the only real thing between us. This couldn’t be faked.
She tasted as sweet as I’d imagined, her lower lip just as plush as I’d hoped. She offered no resistance as my tongue plunged into her mouth, running over hers, learning her every soft, wet inch. She moaned, deep in her throat, and I pulled her closer, used my hand to angle her head just the way I wanted.
“Okay?” I asked, lifting my head only a fraction of an inch so I could feel her hot breath against my skin. I don’t know why I asked, she could have denied me.
She licked her lips again, nodded.
I groaned at the sight, at the thought of the other things that tongue could do. Her hair was silky soft beneath my palm. My other hand moved to her hip, holding her close against me, my need for her obvious against her belly. She was soft and round in all the right places and I didn’t want to let go.
I had no doubt she was a little unworldly; her touch was tentative and the little erotic sounds she made were more of surprise than seduction. It didn’t matter. Everything she did only ratcheted up my thirst for her, my cock literally pulsed with need to be buried deep inside her. If I kept this up, I’d take her, right here in her living room, using her like I would one of the bar bunnies back at the club. That’s what Moretti expected, but not what I wanted. The bastard might dictate my life until we had the evidence we needed to arrest him and the bigger fish he worked with, but he didn’t dictate what I did with a woman. I didn’t fuck on command. He wasn’t going to pimp me out like one of his whores. I pulled back, broke our kiss, but kept my hand at her nape.
“Jesus, we have to stop.” If I was going to have her, and I was, there was no doubt about that, then it was just going to be about me and Anna. No motives, no reasons for doing so other than the want to lose myself in her, to have her right there with me when I did. To see the look on her face when I made her come.
Her eyes fluttered open, awe and arousal made her look at me as if through a fog. A haze of lust. My hips automatically thrust toward her, knowing I’d made her look like that, feel like that, so lost to her surroundings. Overwhelmed, no…flooded with arousal.
I lifted my hand, ran my thumb over her bottom lip as I’d wanted to do all week. To feel its fullness. Now, it was not only delectably soft and kissable, it was red and swollen. I’d done that. It was a heady feeling knowing I could make Anna respond in this way.
“God, you’re confusing me,” she murmured, her breath ragged. “And that kiss, it’s making it worse. Why are you here?”
I stared at her intently, resisting the urge to rip her clothes off and fuck her up against the wall. “You know the reason.” My voice was quiet, rough.
“Not because of Moretti. Not because he owes me. I was stupid to think he’d even the score,” she said bitterly.
“Then why do you think?” I crossed my arms over my chest to keep from reaching out and grabbing her and pulling her in for another kiss.
“To help my friend?” Hope flared in her eyes.
“Is there really a woman who needs help?” I asked. Had it just been a line to get me to New York?
She cocked her head as if surprised by my question. “Yes.”
If I helped her with her friend and the bad man, I would have the time I needed to figure out how to get out of killing her. It would also give me a reason to be with her, to keep her safe. Moretti sure as hell would send someone else to do my job if he felt I was taking too long. He told me to fuck her and have fun with her first. I figured I had a week. At the most.
“I’m here to help you,” I murmured. It was true. I did want to help her—to help her stay alive. If solving her friend’s problem was a means to this end, then that’s what I had to do.
“Help me?” She looked at me warily, almost bleak. “Even though I told you I've done some bad things?”
Her expression had me reaching out. I couldn’t help it; I ran my knuckles down her cheek. “Like I said before, we all have our reasons for doing stuff. Are you planning on killing me?” I wondered, hoping to tinge my words with a little humor.
“With what?” She gave a little laugh and glanced down at herself. “Are you planning on killing me? You’ve got the gun.” Her hands moved from my biceps, around my back to the where my gun was.
“Jesus, you could shoot yourself.” I grabbed it before she did, placed it on her kitchen counter. “That’s to keep you safe, not hurt you.” Moving to stand in front of her again, I tilted her chin back up with my finger, cupped her face with my hand. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. At the reception, you panicked when I touched you.” I added a little pressure to my hold. “I want you. I want to do more than kiss you, touch more than your shoulder, but doing just that made you freak out. I need to know if that’s going to happen again.”
She nodded, stepped back, organized a messy pile of papers on her desk. I couldn’t tell if she was upset or pissed off; Anna was exceptionally good at hiding her emotions when she wanted. “Usually, when a man touches me, like that guy at the bar, I’m numb. I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything.”
I wasn’t thrilled with the mental picture of some guy’s hands on her. Touching her intimately.
“I can think, react, defend myself. Get angry, whatever.” She dropped a stray pencil into a glass holder beside her monitor. “But with you…” She turned back to face me, looked me straight in the eye. I could see the truth of her words. There would be truth in what came next, a truth I needed to know. But she changed her mind, gave her head a little shake and turned away to rebuild her walls. That’s when I knew.
Anna might want to turn away, to hide, but I didn’t. I might want to be gentle with her, but she needed a little nudge out of her safe, protected little world. “So you panicked because I make you feel something.”
She ran her hand over her right shoulder. “I panicked because you grabbed me here. It’s a trigger for me. Something happened to me, you’re right about that. It has nothing to do with you.”
She turned away.
“Bullshit, Anna. I make you feel, and it scares the hell out of you.” Her words had cut deep, sliced through layers of equally numb feelings I’d felt since I’d found Nadine with her lover. Since the divorce. Anna’s words could bring me to my knees. Would she admit I had such an impact on her? Did she know that she could do the same to me? To make me feel in a way I’d forgotten even existed?
I stalked over to her, grabbed her arm and spun her around, forced her to look at me. The real me.
“I’m just supposed to believe when you say you’re not going to kill me? Why should I?” she shouted. She tugged against
my hold, but I wouldn’t let her go.
“Because besides being an ass to you in my office, I’ve done nothing for you to think that.”
“You work for some big crime boss!” She pushed at my chest. For all I knew, so did she. And I still wanted her.
This wasn’t going as planned. “Do you really think I’m going to hurt you?” When she didn’t answer, just looked at the front of my shirt, I continued. “My gun’s over there. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it by now. Hell, I wouldn’t have flown across the country to do it. I’d have killed you in Denver when I had the chance.” She stopped trying to work her way out of my grip. Slowly, she looked at me, her dark brown eyes assessing. Wary. I ran my knuckle down her cheek, softened my tone. “Tell me how I make you feel.”
Anna took a deep breath, let it out. “You—”
“I what?” I prompted when she pinched her mouth closed, as if afraid the words would fall out.
“You’re…you’re heat and electricity,” she admitted. “You make my mind go blank. I feel alive when I’m with you, Nick. I forget myself when I’m with you. Forget the fear.”
Yes. She wasn’t indifferent, she was affected. I affected her. It was almost too much to handle. She’d shared something pretty intense, which no one in our line of work dared to do. She’d given those words to me, how she felt—how I made her feel—to hold and to protect. It was a heady sensation, but also a lot of responsibility. Could I handle it, especially in my—our—line of work? I had to sit down. I moved around her, dropped into her comfortable armchair.
I was still the asshole. She admitted heavy truths while I hid behind lies. My name wasn’t Nick. I didn’t work for Moretti. She assumed so, and I let her. Was it fair? No. I had no choice. If anyone knew I was a cop, my whole career would be blown, and there’d be a mark out on my head. I couldn’t keep Anna safe if I was dead. I met the first woman who deserved honesty from me through a sick twist of fate and I couldn’t tell her the truth.
