No Good Truth (Bad To Be Good, Book 2)

by Dana Volney

  Teddy nodded, taking it all in. Thirty strangers filed downstairs and filled Samson’s living room. Another knock came at his front door and Sabene answered this time.

  “You can set them here.” Sabene pointed to the coffee table where his one pizza box sat. The delivery guy stacked a dozen or so pizza boxes by his. “Dig in, ladies.” Sabene started passing boxes around the living room, and some of the women filtered into his kitchen.

  He caught Claire’s gaze. She pressed her lips together as her eyes glossed over. She’d always had a good heart. It had been something he loved about her. She wrapped her arms around his side and against his initial impulse, he rested his arm on her shoulder.

  She’d done good.

  “You do realize I need more details.” Teddy took a slice from one of the boxes as it passed in front of him.

  “Already sent them to you.” Sabene joined their circle in the middle of his living room.

  “Teddy, this is Sabene. Our tech guru.” Samson introduced the two.

  “And so much more.” Sabene shook Teddy’s outstretched hand.

  “Is this the end of it?” Teddy stared at Samson.

  “I doubt it.” Samson side-eyed Claire. She was pleased now, but the more she simmered on it, the more she was going to want to take down everyone involved. He could feel it in his gut. She wasn’t one to let things go—especially when the cause was so near and dear to her heart.

  “Do me a favor and give me a heads up next time.” He glanced between the three of them.

  Teddy rounded up the girls to take them downtown to call the proper agencies and figure out how to proceed with the victims that were more than likely not US citizens. Whatever was going to happen to them now was better than the fate they had been slated for only hours earlier.

  “See you in the morning.” Sabene grabbed her backpack and followed the last of the girls out.

  Claire turned into him when the front door shut. “It was awful.”

  “I bet. They have a shot now that you found them.”

  “They’ll probably be sent back to wherever they were stolen from.”

  “Teddy will do his best.”

  There was a pause, and he could practically hear the gears in her mind turning. “We have to stop this. I know we can’t stop the whole problem everywhere. But we can in our own backyard.” She titled her head to look at him.

  Big, green eyes searched his and broke down his walls. Further. One inch at a time, she was worming her way back into his life, into his thoughts.

  “We’ll look into it more tomorrow. See what else we can do.” He released her. If he hugged her any longer, he was going to claim her lips as his own and then her body.

  She stepped back from him and rubbed her temples. She sure had been touching her head a lot since the accident.

  “Are you feeling okay?” An urge to reach out for her overwhelmed his need to protect himself and he rubbed her shoulder.

  “Yes.” She dropped her hands to her side. “Why?” She waggled her eyebrows, switching gears suspiciously fast. “Need a pick-me-up?” She stepped closer and tried to kiss him, but he moved his head to the side.

  “Are you ever going to give up?”

  “Probably not.” She swayed her head side to side and bit into her bottom lip.

  “Fine.” It had been a long day and he couldn’t keep doing this with her. “Let’s fuck.” He let his hands slap on his thighs. His sarcasm was real, but shit if he didn’t want her to climb on top of him right now and ride him all night long.

  “You say that like it’s a hardship for you.” She crossed her arms.

  “We’re over and have been for years.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  He was stuck in emotional hell Groundhog Day.

  Did he want to fuck her? He was a red-blooded male, so of course he did. She was damn fucking hot. Was he going to? No. He wasn’t. Because that would be a fucking asshole thing to do.

  Even so, his blood rushed south and his cock started to stand up and take notice of the conversation.

  She leaned in, reaching out for him. She skimmed her palm down his torso to the clear imprint of his dick. Fu-uck. Was he letting this happen? He wasn’t used to exercising self-control when it came to her advances. She hadn’t made any in years.

  “You’re already hard.” She was using her sexy, low voice. The one that washed over him and lowered his defenses. “Quit acting like you don’t want me.” She snapped his button loose, unzipped his jeans, and ran her palm down the length of him, curling her fingertips over his balls.

  Pleasure captured all of his attention and a heat sank deep in his gut. “Are you still attractive?” He kept his voice even like it was an Oscar-winning performance. “Yes. That’s all.”

  She stroked him and he clenched his teeth. Another minute and he was going to pin her to the wall and show her exactly how much he wanted her.

  “Fine.” She pulled her warmth away, leaving his cock hard and exposed. “Then we won’t fuck. But we’re sleeping together again tonight.”

  He tried to stifle a groan but didn’t succeed.

  “This is what you wanted,” she scoffed.

  “No, it isn’t,” he whispered to himself as he carefully zipped his jeans as not to hurt himself.

  “What?” She whipped around and was in his face in a flash.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t you want to touch me again?” Her stare was hard and searching.

  The woman was seeking answers, a true resolution he may never be able to give her. There was a raging misery between them that had sent all common sense out the window a long time ago.

  “I get what you’re going through, Claire. I really am trying. But, have you stopped to think of what it’s like for me?”

  She stepped back and wrapped her arms over her chest as she shook her head no.

  “You left me.” His words were simple, but he raised his voice all the same. These wounds weren’t fresh, but they still stung. “You’re the one who broke us up. You disappeared. I didn’t see you for months after that. And we weren’t exactly on talking terms.”

  “We’re on the team together.”

  “Yeah, now, but we fight. Constantly.” There was pain in his eyes, he knew, but if this was what it took for her to realize where they stood now, today, in their non-relationship, then this was what he was going to do. Tell her the truth. Mostly. “It was so hard for me to leave the life we had. To act like it never existed because it was too painful to think about. But I did, I have. I can’t go back there. I can’t let this,” he waved his palm in the small distance that separated them, “happen again only to have you regain your memory and hate me all over again.”

  “I could never hate you.”

  “Trust me, you do.”

  “Why did I leave? I wouldn’t do that without reason.”

  “It was a job gone bad.” A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “I think you finally realized that a life with me wasn’t what you wanted.”

  That was the only explanation that made sense for the way she’d left. Yeah, she’d walked in on him and the princess kissing in the back of a club, but he hadn’t been cheating. He would never. It was part of their con—the one she’d orchestrated. The princess had contacted him and he hadn’t had time to signal Claire. When she walked in on them, she’d assumed he was running around behind her back, and that was that. She’d ran without the full story and he’d not tried to fill her in. If she could run that quickly and think the worst of him that easily, there’d been something else wrong in the relationship. It was hard to admit, but there it was.

  The perfect love that they shared in her mind hadn’t been perfect. At least she hadn’t actually thought so or she would’ve stayed.

  A tear trailed down her cheek as she stared at him, refusal to accept the truth wrinkling her forehead.

  He couldn’t take it any longer. He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly to him. She went easily and slid her arms around
his waist. “I’m sorry,” he said into her hair before planting a kiss. “I truly am. I’m at a loss here.”

  They stood there, holding each other. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on her head.

  Why? Why was it so important to him that she be miserable too? He could’ve taken the opportunity to start over with her. Build any sort of relationship. But he had to be a giant dickwad and ruin it. How stupid.

  She pulled her head back.

  “I’m sorry too,” she whispered.

  In a strange way, he was getting closure. And turned on all at the same time. Her light green eyes gazed at him, their bodies pressed together.

  He leaned down. Just this once wouldn’t hurt. It could be the last time. A good-bye kiss that was long overdue. Her lips were too plump and too close for him not to capture them.

  Her fingers curled into his back, pressing him closer.

  She opened her mouth to him and their tongues mixed gently, slowly. He reached for her head and clasped his palms around the sides, his fingers intertwining with her hair. He breathed her in, felt the sensation of her under his fingertips. Alive and at his will.

  He grasped her ass and hauled her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he headed straight for the stairs. He took them quickly, being sure to never stop kissing her. He’d give her pleasure tonight. But he wouldn’t take any from her. He had to keep some sort of emotional line.

  He laid her back on the bed and put his knee between her legs. She reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He bent over and pressed a kiss just above her belly button and trailed a straight line of kisses up between her perfect, handful of breasts.

  Her palms rubbed up his neck and her fingers combed over his head. His body screamed for her—every part of him wanted to consume her. He took her mouth with his, closed his eyes, and imprinted her touch one last time.

  Against every cell in his body, he slowly backed away from her. Leaving her topless on his bed, looking up at him with a lust-filled stare.

  He raised his index finger, and she bit into her bottom lip and ran it over her teeth until it plumped back in place.

  Lord have mercy.

  He moved to the foot of the bed where an old chest sat. He opened it and searched until he found a wooden box at the bottom. There’d been no reason for him to look at it before. Until now.

  She was still on the bed but up on her elbows now, trying to get a look at what he was doing. He set the box on the chest, opening it. Just as he remembered—filled with their sex toys. He grabbed the handcuffs. He had to control this situation. If he didn’t cuff her to the bed, he was sure to end up buried deep inside of her, groaning her name as he lost all control and sanity. It was a miracle he hadn’t given in downstairs when her palm was wrapped around him.

  She laid back down and raised her hands above her head. He looped the cuffs around the white wire rod of his bed frame and latched each one around her wrists.

  He ran his fingers down her creamy arm, all the way to her bare breast. He took the other nipple in his mouth as he massaged her breast.

  “Samson,” she moaned.

  God, he loved his name coming from her lips.

  He looked through the box. There it was—the vibrator he liked to drive her wild with.

  “Spread your legs.”

  She slowly opened her long legs for him. Her pussy hair was manicured as a strip for him. He crawled onto the bed, straddling one of her legs so that he could get close. He nipped at her bottom lip, backing his mouth away as she tried to claim more.

  He turned the blue vibrator on, running the tip over her folds. His cock ached and hated him.

  “Close your eyes,” he breathed into her ear.

  She did and he kissed his way to her lips again, needing more. So much more from her.

  “Please,” she begged.

  He slid the fake cock into her, her back arching at the invasion. Fuck, he wanted to be that vibrator. He wanted to feel her slickness around him, to thrust in and out of her.

  Damned if he also didn’t love driving her wild all night.

  He kissed down her neck and bit at her collarbone before moving down to her breast, sucking it into his mouth as he moved the vibrator in and out. Her body writhed under him. Because of him.

  He trailed kisses over her belly and the landing strip and licked into her clit, sucking as he pushed the fake cock deeper.

  “God, yes, Samson.”

  He sucked harder and moved the toy faster, his own need for release pushing hard against his jeans and making his head dizzy.

  “Fuck me all night, lover.”

  He moved his free hand to seize her nipple and pinch it between his thumb and index finger. She moaned under the pressure. His tongue licked circles around her clit, moving faster as he increased the speed of the thrusts to get her off.

  “Samson, please.” Her words were rushed.

  He sucked on her clit and moved to the other breast to pinch her nipple as he increased the vibration setting.

  “Oh, God,” she screamed as her release arched her back.

  He swirled his tongue one last time before pulling away and taking vibrator out of her.

  He didn’t lean up to kiss her. He couldn’t. His erection was so fucking big right now, any extra contact and he might cream in his pants. Instead, he got up to put the toy in the bathroom sink to be cleaned later and returned to stand by her.

  “If I let you out of the cuffs, do you promise to behave?”

  A satisfied, weary gaze sized him up. “You’ve worn me out. You’re safe. For now.” She winked.

  He unlocked them and put the metal and key back in the box.

  He disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, before anything else could be said. A fat lot of good that would do him if she really wanted in. The woman could pick a lock in her sleep. He dropped his jeans to the floor and started the hot water.

  The steam filled the shower area quickly and he braced his hands on the wall and let his head hang down as the hot water beat down his neck.

  What a mess. If he could’ve just kept his lips to himself downstairs. He smiled. Nah, he didn’t regret a second of it—her firm, creamy breasts in his palm, in his mouth. Tasting her again. She got that fucking right. He’d been wanting to lick her pussy since the last time she’d let him. He palmed his cock as he replayed her screaming his name just minutes ago. So fucking wet. He moved with a firm grip on his dick up and down, quickly, not wanting to prolong anything.

  Claire. He could feel her lips over his, her skin pressed against his chest. His release welled as he jacked off faster, the steam making his lungs heavy.

  “Claire, oh fuck,” he muttered as he came.

  He was in trouble in so many ways.

  Chapter Seven

  Samson had been quiet all morning, and for the life of her she couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. Maybe she was losing a step. She certainly had come out of the con last night when he’d handcuffed her to his bed. That was all her living in the here and now. He could’ve asked her if she had amnesia while he was pleasuring her and she’d have spilled her guts to keep him going. Maybe he sensed that. He could be on to her and just biding his time. He was slick like that.

  What had she done? She’d just given in. They’d had a moment—the first sincere one since they’d called it quits. She hadn’t been lying; she was sorry for the way things had ended. She wanted him to have closure and for her to feel it, too. But then he’d held her and she couldn’t resist his innocent charm. He’d always been a good guy, the fact that he could still care about her was mind-blowing.

  She didn’t know if she could keep this con going now, if she should come clean, or if her lie was endangering the possibility of a real second chance. She might never be able to tell Samson the truth

  He’d used the word hate last night—said that she’d hated him. A lump sunk in her stomach. That hadn’t actually been the case. Except the hurt i
n his voice hadn’t been false. And his strong hands all over her and his command of her body was still well intact. He was wrong about one thing—she’d wanted his hard body covering hers, owning her.

  Claire headed straight to office kitchen to make a cup of ginger peach tea. She was ready to save the world today. Last night had restored her hope.

  “I have bad news.” Sabene stood by the coffee table that Milo had his feet propped up on—fine Italian leather loafers with a square toe moved side to side as if there was a beat. There was not.

  “What’s up?” Samson asked as he took a seat on the big couch, catty-corner to Milo, who was sitting on the matching black leather love seat.

  They were going to start looking more into Padarn and his gang today, and that was damn exciting. She wanted to shut down the entire operation.

  “Grace’s body was found last night. She’d been left dead in a dumpster four blocks from Club Alegria.”

  “No.” Claire dropped her mug in mid pour of hot water. The splay scalded the top of her hand. “Ahhhh!” She blew on the reddening area, turned on the faucet, and stuck her hand under the cold water.

  “You okay?” Samson asked.

  “Yep.” Nope.

  She’d saved dozens last night but not the one soul who made it all possible. Life was never fair.

  She watched the water run over her flesh, the sting dissipating.

  Grace’s parents flashed in her eyes—their worried stare and slumped shoulders. She’d failed them. She’d failed Grace. She hadn’t done enough. She could’ve done more yesterday. She’d not followed her instincts. That wouldn’t happen again.

  In fact, this was never going to happen again.

  She knew what it felt like to get news a loved one had died alone, probably terrified, with no one around who gave a damn enough to stop the brutality. She’d loved her sister. She hadn’t been but fifteen when Allison had vanished without one word and seventeen when her parents had sent her from the room when the police showed up. But she had overhead every word. Abused. Raped. Homeless. She’d never know why Allison had decided living on the streets was better or what fantasy she’d been chasing. But the fact was, if there’d been somewhere for her big sister to go when she’d been put in a bad situation, if there’d been someone Allison could’ve turned to for help, she might be alive right now. Claire hadn’t been able to help her and now she hadn’t been able to help Grace either. Her chest ached with old wounds of sorrow and the fresh ones of rage.