The Boss Vol. 4 (The Boss #4)

by Cari Quinn

  I followed. It wasn’t chasing after her, if we were simply headed in the same direction.

  At least that sounded good in my head.

  “You can’t stay here tonight. I won’t allow it.”

  “Ah, there it is. The impervious king of the world tone. I knew it would make a reappearance soon.” She stopped and swiped at the hair hanging in her face. She still looked tousled from our lovemaking, and the sight both aroused and infuriated me more.

  Those officers had seen her like this. Those goddamn robbers had been feet away from her. She wasn’t meant for their eyes, not in this state. Not when my hands were tingling with the need to touch her again and my arms ached with the need to hold her tight and keep her protected.

  “You think I’m stupid? I knew telling you would mean you’d boot me out the door. I also knew only a fool would sleep with you again, but I couldn’t stand to hide the truth any longer. My eyes were wide open about what would happen afterward, unless by some miracle you grew a heart.” Her eyes glittered and her jaw clenched as I moved closer. “I figured if I was going to be homeless again, I might as well get another orgasm out of the deal.”

  I had a heart, though hearing she thought I didn’t stung. But that wasn’t what I latched onto from her comment. “Two,” I said automatically.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Two orgasms.” While she processed that, I stepped forward and brushed her hair out of her face. I trailed my fingers along the curve of her cheek and down to the angle of her jaw, helpless against my urgency to keep my hands on her at all times. Especially now. What had occurred earlier had been too close. Too dangerous. If she’d let me, I’d put her under lock and key somewhere, far from all of this.

  Why was a better question. One I wouldn’t even try to answer. Not tonight.

  She made a sound of derision. “You wish, Carson. More like one and a half.”

  It made me smile when I didn’t think I was capable of it. Hell, I’d have said the muscles of my face had frozen into a perpetual snarl the moment we’d heard those bastards creeping around in the darkness outside Grace’s studio. But she’d always been a miracle worker, even when she was a young girl with braids and hands that shook as she demonstrated the glass work techniques that were as elemental to her as breathing. Maybe more so.

  “Then I’m in your debt.” I brushed a kiss over her temple and absorbed the tremor that went through her and passed through me. “I always pay what I owe, Ms. Copeland.”

  “And you also don’t play fair.”

  “No. Because I’m not playing.” I tipped up her chin and smoothed my thumb over the little indent I doubted she was even aware of. She was unaffected by her beauty, and I was in awe of every bit of it. Not just the external, but the beauty of the inner strength she displayed time and again. “You won’t stay here tonight,” I said again, softly now. Cajoling. Using the tools in my arsenal to get what I wanted.

  Though the aims and methods might change, at heart I was a competitor. And I always won one way or another.

  “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  The poignancy of her tone stirred something in me, and I spoke without thinking. Without realizing the magnitude of what I was about to do.

  “Come home with me.”

  Chapter Two

  Grace was quiet on the ride back to my house. I wasn’t exactly a chatterbox either.

  How could I have invited her home?

  There were hotels. Or friends she could stay with. Surely she had some of those. Hell, Jack would probably be glad to take her in.

  The thought of Jack taking in Grace simultaneously made me growl and caused me to dip a hand into my pocket to where I’d hidden the purloined cuff link. I couldn’t trust him with her. Couldn’t take any chances with her safety. That wasn’t even mentioning the jealousy that seized me at every time I dwelled on their close friendship. Not because I begrudged either of them for forging a bond.

  I was simply envious it was so much easier for them than it was for the likes of me.

  Now I had new concerns. New things to keep me up at night. Whomever had been at the house might not have realized Grace had been squatting there—or maybe they had. And then there was the tie to Jack. I had to speak to him. There would be no avoiding that conversation, as much as I wish I could.

  But tonight I had other concerns.

  “Where are we going?” Her quiet question tugged me out of my thoughts and gave me a moment’s hope. Perhaps we could go to a hotel. She probably wouldn’t care. In fact, she might even prefer something more impersonal—

  “I mean, where do you live?”

  I wound my fingers tighter around the steering wheel. “Chestnut Hill.”

  She glanced out the window, her hair shielding her face so I couldn’t read her expression. “Hmm.”

  “Hmm?”

  “That area doesn’t seem to be quite up to Carson Covenant standards.” She brushed lint off her snug yoga pants. “Now my grandmother’s place, that’s more up your alley. No wonder you snapped that right up.”

  “I didn’t ‘snap it up’ because there was a dearth of property available in Marblehead.” Available properties were scarcer on the coast, as owners tended to buy and hold on for generations, but that hadn’t affected my purchase.

  “Then why?”

  I nearly deflected as I always had, but the sight of her curled close to the door, putting as much space between us as possible, loosened something in my chest. I’d given her so little other than a paycheck and my body. She deserved better than that. Better than me.

  But for as long as this insanity continued, I was who she had.

  “I was very fond of Annabelle.” I stared straight ahead, navigating through the light predawn traffic without sparing her a glance. “She brought me to her home many times, and I fell in love with it. After her untimely passing, I knew her house would be coming onto the market. I had to have it.”

  My biggest oversight had been not considering Grace. Oh, I’d considered her plenty over the years, far more than was wise. But I hadn’t thought she would want Annabelle’s house. I’d figured a young girl would want something more age-suitable, perhaps in the big city. She was an artist on her way up, and her current circumstances now wouldn’t be her reality in a few short years. Grace was going places, even if she didn’t fully grasp that yet herself. Her “Fallen Angel” piece was yet another piece of proof.

  It was Grace’s turn not to look at me. Instead of pelting me with questions as I’d assumed she would, she stared straight ahead, her face set and stony. “How long were you lovers?”

  If I hadn’t had a death grip on the wheel, I would’ve swerved right off the road. “What?”

  “You heard me. How long was she your lover?” She swiveled on the seat and met my gaze. “You can tell me. I can take it.”

  I couldn’t even process what she was asking. Actually, yes, I could, and I was torn between roaring with laughter and disgust that she thought me to be so indiscriminate. “I didn’t sleep with your grandmother, Grace. She was a bit beyond my age group, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “She was a beautiful, vibrant woman, desired by many men much younger than she was.”

  The stubborn tilt to her chin made me smile in spite of everything. “That she was. But our relationship wasn’t like that. I saw her as a parental figure. Someone to look up to.” Someone I’d put on a pedestal since I was young. I just didn’t add that part. Not yet.

  “Enough that you wanted her house. A sizable investment, don’t you think?”

  “It is. I can afford it.” I kept my tone easy as I signaled into my development. “Her house is gorgeous. The views, the stained glass. The beach access.”

  “It needs significant updating.”

  “It does, yes. The bathrooms in particular. Your grandmother favored a more traditional style.”

  “Seventies chic, you mean?” She smiled faintly and tucked her hair behind her ears. “What d
o you think they wanted, Blake? Money? Valuables? Maybe just a place to party for a night? The cops are right. Not a lot of townies left on that stretch of beachfront this time of year. Oh, there’s some diehards who hang out all year, but—”

  “It wasn’t kids.” I hated having to disabuse her of that notion. Especially since I sincerely wished I could believe such a theory myself. It was less sticky and difficult than facing the reality.

  “You seem so certain.”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “The build of the guy I shot wasn’t that of a teenager. He was a fully grown adult, as was his companion. I also heard their voices.” Echoes of their shouts at least, not anything I could pin down but enough to know that they most likely weren’t underage.

  Then there was Jack’s cuff link. I didn’t want to consider all the implications of that yet, though my mind continued to spin on them in a constant cycle.

  She didn’t respond as I signaled and pulled into the wide driveway of my four-car garage. I only had two vehicles, the Land Rover and a convertible Spyder that I took out on the rare sunny day I took off from work. I also had a motorcycle that got even less use than the convertible.

  “This isn’t as big as I expected. It’s beautiful though,” she hastened to add as I slipped into the first open spot in the garage. “What I can see of the outside in the dark anyway.”

  “It’ll be morning soon. And why does everyone assume I need an ostentatious house just because I’ve done well?”

  “Well, what’s the point if you don’t splurge on yourself?”

  “Oh, believe me, there’s definite splurges in this house, as you’ll see. But I’m not as interested in showing off as some.” I got out of the car and came around to open her door. Naturally, she beat me to the punch, throwing it open and stepping out with a challenging look that hardened me in an instant.

  “Since it’s almost morning as you said, there’s no reason for you not to just drop me off at the gallery. Phil is an early riser. She’ll be in soon and—”

  “And you’ll tell her you don’t have a place to stay, right? Because you’re nothing but forthright in all things.” I gripped her elbow before she could slip back into the car and shut her door with a decisive click. “Finding a new place requires funds.”

  “Funds I now have, thanks to your purchase of my angel.” She dipped her head and her hair fell forward again, an effective screen for her to hide behind. “I don’t appreciate charity. Or you attempting to buy me.”

  “How could I, when you’re beyond price?”

  She lifted her chin and met my gaze head-on. “I’m also immune to lines or false flattery.”

  “What about the truth?” When she didn’t reply, I rubbed a hand over the scruff on my jaw and tipped back my head. “Since you’re already here, you might as well come inside.”

  “Now that’s the kind of invitation I can get behind.” Shaking her head, she slipped out of my hold to skirt around the car and walk up the walkway to the front door.

  I followed her and unlocked the door, then disarmed the security system as she entered the foyer. Her intake of breath made me glance over my shoulder. She was dividing her attention between the sparkling chandelier above and the bubbling fountain while she worried the strap of her purse between two fingers.

  “Now this is more in line with what I was expecting.” She circled the fountain, her soft-soled shoes whispering over the granite floor. “The outside is lovely, but it hides all of this.” She waved a hand and turned slowly to take everything in. “Big windows, of course.” She moved to one and ran her fingers along the frame, making me shift from foot to foot. I would’ve adjusted myself if that wouldn’t have been hopelessly crude.

  Still might need to, because her habit of touching everything always set me on edge. And when it was my things she had her hands on, a primitive part of me stirred that I couldn’t ignore. Every time her hand swept over a column or table, I imagined pressing her against it or stretching her out on top of it. Imprinting it with the unforgettable brand of her flesh.

  “I’ll go get your bag,” I said, and escaped back out into the fresh air.

  I inhaled deeply and dropped back my head to stare up at the stars winking out in the sky. Dawn would come soon, and with it, the reality of what last night had set into motion. Not just with me and Grace, but with Jack. The larger implications that I couldn’t hide away from, no matter how much I wished to.

  There could be an innocent explanation for why that cuff link had been at Annabelle’s home. Why it had been dropped by the intruder. I just couldn’t figure out what the fuck it was.

  I grabbed Grace’s small overnight bag out of the trunk. She hadn’t taken much. The contents of her studio had seemed rather sparse. Living out of boxes and bags when you expected to be found out and evicted at any time probably had something to do with that. She’d probably ditched the nonessentials long ago.

  When I stepped back inside, Grace wasn’t in the foyer. I moved to the living room and through it to the dining room, barely resisting the urge to call her name. After tonight, I didn’t want her out of my sight for even a moment. Not until the panic that she could be in danger subsided. That was part of the reason I’d insisted she come home with me. No one could keep an eye on her like I would. No guard would be as relentless in ensuring her safety, and she wouldn’t have tolerated one nonetheless.

  The other part of my reasoning was much more basic. I simply wanted her enough to forget that I didn’t invite women home. I definitely didn’t have them spend the night. But she wasn’t just any woman, and I couldn’t take back the offer once I’d made it.

  Now I needed to find her.

  I moved past the windows in the dining room, scanning the woods beyond by rote. Unless I was mistaken, I’d be looking over my shoulder and checking in corners everywhere I went until those men were caught.

  Until I caught them.

  I moved soundlessly to the second floor and headed first toward the guest room, one of several. Perhaps she’d decided to just take a room and keep to herself. But the spare rooms were empty too. So was my bedroom. I was about to give in and call out for her when I heard the water running in the master bath.

  A shower. Of course. She’d want to wash the night away. What had happened had been a violation. I should’ve thought of that.

  Should’ve thought of so many things.

  On the way to the bathroom, I ditched my jacket and tie. It had been silly to dress in that night’s clothes after the break-in, but that’s what I did. I always presented a certain image. Ties were as much a part of my regime as my watch, as the pocket square in my jacket. I didn’t know how to relax, and that was never more true than when Grace was in my home, in my bathroom, doing God knows what but all of it probably involving nudity.

  Loosening my collar, I stepped into the doorway. And stared.

  Grace was naked, all right, her clothes tossed in haphazard piles on the floor that offended my innate sense of order. But it was hard to be too annoyed when all her fair skin was on display, from the constellation of freckles on her lower back to the delicate vine tattoo that climbed up the back of her thigh. Small blue flowers in mid-bloom opened along the trailing green, inviting the eye to climb higher. As if I wasn’t looking higher already, to where the shadows between her thighs turned into swollen pink flesh.

  She bent over the tub she’d begun filling with hot water and bubbles, testing the temperature with her hand. Steam was already floating lazily on the air. Her hair was in a loose topknot of her head, secured with pins she’d probably had in her purse. Curling strands cascaded over her shoulders, rolling up in the heat. The same heat that had me undoing another couple buttons and moving toward her, to grip her hips and pull her back against the straining placket of my pants. “I see you found your way to the bathroom.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and blew a springy curl out of her face. “And I see you found your way to the other side of vio
lence.”

  I smiled, helpless not to. That was the gift she gave me. No matter how fraught or fucked up our situation was, she gave me back the light. “You inspire me to new heights.”

  “Not yet.” She rose slowly, drawing her backside up the length of my erection. “But I always enjoy a good challenge.”

  “Me too.” I cupped her chin and drew her back to me, guiding her face so that she would take in her surroundings. “Right now, my challenge is to make you forget tonight ever happened.”

  “Mirrors,” she said shakily, blowing out another breath that made her curls shiver. “The tiles are reflective.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I kissed the side of her throat and wished I had some of the lavender scent she must slather on her skin. I wanted to be the one to rub it in, to hear her sighs of pleasure as I eased out the kinks in her muscles. “If you just take a quick glance, you don’t notice them. But they make it hard to hide from yourself.” I drew my tongue along the underside of her jaw, where her scent was the strongest. “Or to hide from me.”

  “That goes both ways you know.” She dug her nails into the back of my hand on her stomach and leaned back her head to give me more access. “If I’m to be on display, you will be too.”

  “We’ll both be focused on you.” I drew my fingertips down the valley between her breasts, barely making contact with her skin. She fought off a tremble and pushed away from me, then turned to pin me with a probing look.

  “How many?” she asked, her voice low and breathy. Scarcely audible over the water flowing into the tub. “How many women have you had in this bathroom, naked in front of the tiles?”

  It was an easy number to tabulate. “One.”

  She startled, reaching behind her to grip the edge of the counter. “Oh yeah? Just one? And what was she like? Some kind of pampered princess?”

  “I think she might’ve been, in another life. Pampered at least. She comes from money. The kind I couldn’t imagine having growing up. Forget a silver spoon. Hers is platinum. But a princess?” I pretended to consider. “No, not her. She’s far too resourceful and cunning and intelligent to be called that.”