by Devyn Quinn
Heading toward the bathroom, she reached in and turned on both taps, adjusting the temperature to a comfortable level. Steam filled the air as she stripped off her workout clothes, tossing them into the hamper.
A tap on the glass behind her caused her to turn her head. Since her bathroom window looked onto the solid brick wall of the building next door, she never bothered closing the blind. She hadn’t considered the fire escape outside the window. Anyone who wanted to could climb up and peek inside.
Snatching a towel to cover her nudity, Callie gaped at the man outside. He smiled back, tapping the glass a second time. He wanted in.
Think of the devil and here he comes.
Recognizing her quarry, Callie gasped and her heartbeat jumped into a double-time dance. She hesitated, caught between surprise and relief. When she’d gone to work at the bar earlier in the evening, Drake hadn’t shown up. Considering the body cooling in the morgue, that wasn’t a surprise. If she were suspected of murder, especially if she’d actually committed one, she’d be inclined to lay low, too. The fact that Drake had chosen an alternate route to her apartment solidified her suspicions of guilt. An innocent man didn’t try to conceal his actions.
Gaining his trust meant she had to play along.
Callie threw on a cloak of composure to make up for her lack of clothing. It would have to suffice. Fortunately she was fairly comfortable with her own nudity, scars and all. Tucking the towel around her breasts, she turned off the faucets before the tub overflowed. She unlatched the window, tugging it up. The screen had fallen off a long time ago, never to be replaced. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Iollan Drake grinned. “I wanted to see you again, love.”
“I have a front door, in case you’ve forgotten.”
His grin widened. “This route’s much more interesting.”
She blushed, glancing down at her towel. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have put on something more appropriate.”
He ducked and guided his lanky frame over the waist-level sill with the ease of an experienced burglar. Getting in and out of places unseen didn’t seem to present a problem. He straightened, his full height dwarfing hers by at least six inches. “What you are wearing is more than appropriate, love. In fact, it’s perfect.”
Feeling her towel start to slip, Callie quickly crossed her arms over her breasts. He seemed not to have changed clothes, dressed in the same outfit of the night before. He looked a little rumpled, a little tired, but no less worse for wear. She, on the other hand, felt like a sweating, stinking piggy. “Why? You think you’re going to get me in bed again?”
His gaze snapped with interest. “I’d hoped to do that, yes.”
She tried to look offended. “Do I look that easy?” She visually scanned his length, enjoying every damn inch. In truth, a woman would have to be blind or pushing up daisies to not get turned on by this gorgeous hunk.
His brows shot up. “Not for just any man, I hope,” he answered with a wry twist of his lips.
Callie relaxed slightly, her inner tension easing to a manageable level. Her tongue worried the inside of her cheek. “But you’re not just any man, right?” Her voice was a breathy whisper.
Stepping closer, he cocked his head, meeting her gaze directly. His hand came up, stroking her cheek in a familiar way. “No,” he whispered, the cadence of his voice laced with sincerity. “I’m not just any man.”
His touch was pure delight. A tingling current filled her. His presence, so near and so desired, was altogether too enticing. She was going to have to fight to keep from falling in love with this man. That would take a lot of energy and a cool head. She hoped she was strong enough to do her job without letting her emotions rule her. Drake was different than any man she’d ever known.
Callie’s breath shuddered out. She shifted on her bare feet, uncomfortable. “Then who are you, really?”
His gaze suddenly broke from hers. He stepped back, sighing and sifting his fingers through his thick hair. “I wish I could tell you.”
On paper, there was no record of his existence: No passport, driver’s license, immigration record. Nothing. No one believed Drake was even his real name. He’d obviously taken great care to erase his past. Even the accent tailored to his speech could be a carefully practiced act. Until agents sat him down and questioned him, nobody knew where he’d come from.
Anxious, Callie leaned toward him. Damn, he knew how to intrigue a woman. “Tell me.”
Iollan shook his head, brows knitting together in thought. “I can do better than that,” he said slowly.
“How?” She raised her gaze to his, waiting for his answer.
His eyes met hers again. He offered a smile and a shrug. “I’m going to show you.”
10
Callie dressed in haste, throwing on a pair of jeans, T-shirt, and her leather jacket. Waiting patiently, Drake watched her pull on a pair of socks, then her boots. It felt odd dressing in front of a strange man, but what the hell. He’d already seen her naked. Slipping her keys, cell, and billfold into a pocket, she looked at him. “I’m ready.”
He nodded. “Good.”
She started to head for the living room.
Iollan shook his head, indicating the bathroom. “Let’s go out the back.”
Callie played dumb. “Why?”
“Eyes I don’t quite trust are watching. It’s safer if we go out the back way.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later they were making their way down the fire escape. Their steps took them down into an alley, a forbidding narrow chute of Dumpsters, gloom, and decay. Nobody had any business hanging around back here in the middle of the night.
Callie looked around and saw only murk. “Where are we going?” Belatedly, it occurred to her that Drake could turn around and pump her full of lead and no one would be wiser. That’s how the other two agents had taken the fall. A bullet to the head, execution style.
Mouth all of a sudden desert-dry, she swallowed, reminding herself to breathe, but invisible fingers refused to lessen their grip around her heart. Trying to clear her mind, she felt both sick and shaky, like someone suffering a nerve-shattering shock. Her head felt squeezed, as though caught in a vise. Perhaps she shouldn’t have nixed the bureau’s suggestion she wear a wire, hardly feasible when you’re naked and locked in a sweaty clinch. She’d opted to go commando in every way. If she had nothing to find, there’d be nothing to explain if his suspicions were aroused.
Iollan’s hand slipped into hers through the darkness. His fingers curled around hers in a warm grip of reassurance. He seemed to know where he was going, leading her to the motorcycle parked beside a Dumpster. “I hope you don’t mind the ride.”
A bit relieved not to be pumped full of lead, Callie shook her head. “Motorcycle’s fine with me.”
He straddled the bike. Lifting it off its stand, he flicked out the kick-starter with one booted foot, then came down on it with a stomp to bring the big machine to life. The engine purred with a steady hum. Doubtful anyone had even noticed the sound. “Get on and hold on tight.”
Though she preferred to be the one doing the driving, Callie clambered onto the back of the motorcycle. She kicked down the passenger footrests, giving her a place to put her feet.
Settling onto the narrow leather seat, she felt her crotch make a direct connection with his ass. A wave of desire suffused her body, the sudden pulse of heat throbbing all the way down in her clit. Tension grew, a strange sexual fierceness filling her as sure as the moist heat between her spread thighs. The massive machine vibrated, sending a heady, almost wanton pleasure straight to her core. Legs locked around his delicious ass, she almost climaxed.
Iollan turned. “Hang on, love.”
Callie nodded, passing her arms under his and locking her hands across his chest. He tensed, chest rock-solid under her grip. His casual move redirected her attention, making her gut-wrenchingly aware of his body, his almost primitive maleness. Her skin felt
red hot. The memory of his touch made her clit twitch. All she wanted to think about was this man, aroused and wanting to make love to her. A fine thrill pierced her heart. She felt positively fragile, and all female.
A soft sound of appreciation escaped her throat, thankfully muffled by the engine. “I’m ready.”
“We’re off, then.” Giving the engine a shot of gas, he simultaneously released the clutch and shifted down into first gear. In one smooth motion, the motorcycle roared down the deserted street, passing darkened windows and parked cars. Everything familiar receded into the distance, left behind in the shadows.
Watching the streets whiz by and change faster than she could keep up, Callie tensed.
She didn’t have to ask where they were going. The lower north side was Drake’s preferred territory. Strip clubs, no-tell motels, and sex shops hosting titillating entertainment ran seven days a week. Drug dealers and prostitutes competed for the influx of dollars such forbidden goodies inevitably attracted.
The older parts of the area were poorly maintained and badly lit, a place where no sane man or woman would be caught walking alone after dark. Streets were paved in the original cobblestone, quaint and perilously narrow. Streetlights were few and far between, casting their dim glow on barred, boarded-up windows. The streets were a god-awful maze of cul-de-sacs and dead ends. Were she alone, Callie would have serious doubts about her safety—not that she wasn’t already having a few.
Iollan chose one of the buildings, a multistoried sentinel guarding the economically ravaged area. Most honest businesses had shriveled up and died when the focus of the city turned away from the railroad and toward interstate highways. A masterpiece of urban blight, the lower north side was considered a lost cause. Graffiti, litter, gang wars, property squatting plagued the entire area.
Callie blinked at the behemoth meeting her eyes. She wasn’t sure if anyone actually lived inside or not. The windows were boarded over and barred. Given the neighborhood, that wasn’t entirely unexpected. No one, however, seemed to be in residence. Even the windows on the upper levels were unlit.
Guiding the motorcycle up on the sidewalk, Iollan parked under a low-slung canopy, killing the engine. “This is it.”
The apparent lack of habitation pressed down on her. “Wow. Dark.” She let her words trail off with a helpless shrug. Iollan had driven so fast she hadn’t even had a chance to catch the name of the avenue. Most of them didn’t seem to be marked anyway. She had no idea where they were. If you were a criminal, it was the perfect place to hide. The thought flashed through her mind that it was also the ideal place to commit a little torture.
No one would hear you scream.
That thought wasn’t welcome at all. She wavered. “Are you sure people live here?”
Iollan’s hand slipped into hers. He gave a reassuring squeeze. “Just hold on. In a moment, everything will change.”
She hesitated, her instincts kicking in. The anxiety she felt was tangible. As a federal agent she’d known there’d be times when her job would cross into the danger zone. The line between knowing it was dangerous and knowingly walking into a dangerous situation was a thin one. Her cell phone served as her sole lifeline. Lose that and she’d be shit out of luck.
“Not the busiest part of town, is it?” She tried to sound unconcerned.
Iollan led the way up a set of narrow cement steps. “I like the quiet. Not a lot of traffic at night.”
A pale, naked yellow lightbulb of questionable wattage cast its light on a huge gray metal door, one of the heavy kind meant to withstand fire or friendly neighborhood pillagers.
He dug in his pocket for a key, sliding it into the dead bolt. “Enter freely, and of your own will.” The door swung open, hinges creaking more than a bit.
Callie shivered. What a fucking odd thing to say. Nobody had ever invited her into his apartment quoting a Dracula movie. She was outwardly calm, but her thoughts were raging like wild cats in a steel cage.
Allowing him to lead, Callie gazed around. They were in a narrow, uninteresting foyer. The linoleum on the floor was as yellowed and peeling as the paint on the walls. Not attractive. Slots of mailboxes claimed one wall, most unmarked. Her first impression wasn’t a good one. Truthfully the place was a dump.
Iollan indicated a set of narrow stairs. “Third floor.”
Great. A walkup. Probably a cold-water flat, too.
The third floor entryway greeting Callie’s curious gaze looked a little bit nicer than the one below. Carpeting replaced the linoleum, that indoor/outdoor kind so popular in high-traffic areas. There were three doors—right, left, and middle—quite a large and spacious spread. Condos, she imagined.
Another key was produced. The second door opened. “Come in, please.”
Callie followed Iollan under the threshold. Walking through the front door was like stepping into a time warp that captured the simpler pleasures of a bygone era. The reception area was huge, open, and inviting. The walls were covered with thick, rich wallpaper in a blue and cream toile print. Original artwork added to the charm, marvelously blending with the décor.
Though the shades were drawn against the prying eyes of outsiders, the reception area was intimately lit. Scented candles burned in sconces, their sweet fragrance winnowing gently through the air. The faint scent of dryness and dust tickled her nostrils.
Passing through the foyer, Iollan led her into a living room. The heels of his boots clicked on the hardwood floors as he walked. A T-shaped partition divided the rooms, and there was a large archway separating the kitchen, dining, and living rooms.
Slipping off his coat, he draped it over a nearby chair. “Welcome to my home.” He held a hand out for her jacket.
Callie peeled it off and handed it over. “I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting a place like this. Have you lived here long?”
He shrugged noncommittally. “Off and on through the years.” He looked around, a fond smile parting his lips. “It’s one of my favorite places. Maybe it’s why I keep coming back even when I shouldn’t.”
“I can see why you can’t stay away.” Her words were honestly offered.
He looked around as if memorizing every nook and cranny. “Someday I shall have to leave it and never come back.” His mouth turned down and his eyes looked sad. “That will be a terrible day indeed.”
Good to know. If he was getting ready to make a run for it, agents would have to act fast before he skipped town. “I hope it won’t be too soon.”
His reply was vague. “Soon enough.” He forced a smile. “But tonight is no night for sadness. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve arranged a little surprise for you in the bedroom.”
Wondering what he had in mind, Callie found it difficult to breathe. She managed a tremulous smile. “Really?”
Iollan held out his hand, waiting for her to make the decision whether to accept or not. “Will you come?” His eyes, so bright and intense, caused her breath to catch in her throat.
Body wound up tightly, she didn’t hesitate to slip her hand into his. “Yes, of course.” Anticipation built inside her as strong warm fingers closed around her own, the way she hoped their limbs would soon tangle together.
Inside Callie was shivering. At the moment nothing mattered except feeling his touch on her naked skin. She wanted him so damn bad it scared her.
11
The suite Iollan led her into went beyond opulent. Lush would be a better word. Absolute sumptuousness beckoned, the décor so splendidly arranged that Callie’s heart leapt at the sight of it all. Jaws agape and eyes wide, she stared at the chamber, mesmerized by its beauty.
A large open arrangement ruled under a low ceiling. Several large empire sofas were spread throughout, the burled walnut covered in warm red and green. Scads of fringed pillows were scattered on the floor covered with plush crème-shaded carpeting. Thick fabriclike wallpaper was a rich lustrous shade, deep ruby red. The color of lust—of the forbidden. Side chairs were covered in a muted gold fabric
, a welcome break to the eye awash in the sanguine theme. A beautiful set of bay windows stretched across the rear wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city by night.
Hanging lamps with Victorian lace shades provided intimate lighting. An elaborate canopied bed dominated, its heart veiled by a fall of sheer curtains, strangely enthralling in a darkly seductive manner.
Drawn in as though sinking into a pit of warm honey, Callie felt the jolt of pure electric energy around her. Her senses were overwhelmed with the sights, the sounds, and sensations around her, caressing her, closing in with each breath she drew into her lungs. Heart hammering in her chest, she gazed around the rest of the chamber.
A huge Jacuzzi dominated the rear of the room, a buoyant and effulgent cerulean pool beneath the high arched ceiling. Two men were stretched out on towels beside the water, lolling like indolent tigers under the hot African sun. As naked as the day they were born, they left nothing to the imagination. Nothing. The musk of sexual heat mixed with the cloying scent of sandalwood incense, burned in such quantity that the air was hazy with smoke.
Seeing Iollan and Callie, the men waved.
One of them raised a glass. “At last you’ve come,” he greeted warmly. “We’ve been waiting.” His voice, like Iollan’s, was tinged with an Irish lilt.
Iollan waved back. “I had to fetch my lady.” He reached for Callie, sliding his arm around her waist in a reassuring manner. He bent toward her ear, whispering words only she heard. “Do you like it?”
Letting out the breath she’d been holding, Callie nodded. “My God. It’s magnificent.”
His potent gaze caught hers. “I thought you’d be pleased. I want you to feel completely at home here.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to settle the butterflies. No such luck. She was nervous as hell. “Um, not that I’m a prude or anything…Who are the naked guys?”
Iollan laughed. “They are my brothers.” Seeing her hesitate, he slipped a hand over her shoulder, caressing her nape. “I can ask them to leave if they make you uncomfortable.”
