Unforgettable (Untouchables)

by Cindy Skaggs

  Rage shut down every instinct he had, so it was a good thing Mick walked with him out the door and down the noisy street. They made it four blocks before Blake stopped seeing red. The implied threat to Victoria had pushed him way the fuck over the line. He thanked his good fortune that none of the team had been there to see him lose his shit. Although they’d heard through his phone. He powered down his cell phone and removed the battery while they waited to cross the street. He swiveled to face Mick.

  The big guy glanced down the street, his eyes narrowed in deep concentration. “Problem?”

  “He threatened Victoria.”

  “You expected him to play fair?”

  “No, but— I wanted to keep her out of it.” The urge to kill Sully tied with his need to protect Victoria. “That bastard is going down, even if I have to kill him in cold blood.” Blake swore it like an oath.

  “Fuck yeah.” Mick clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two hours after leaving the club, Vicki had had her coffee and bagel and shared the newspaper with Eddie. He was well-read and knowledgeable about current events, which made sense since he knew half the people committing crimes these days. Breakfast was companionable, and the little bit of normal she needed to get her head on straight. Living at the club was like living in a cocoon. Safe but isolated. Blake had become the center of her universe by default, and that didn’t sit well on her shoulders. Men were entertaining, a diversion and an occasional distraction, but never the focus.

  Victoria had directed Eddie to George’s coffee shop for three reasons. One, it was part of her normal routine. She missed it, although she’d never tell George. Two, Manny had contacted her there once, so a part of her hoped he would try again, but as they lingered over a second and third cup of coffee, it became apparent Manny was a no-show. Again. Ugh. The third reason they went to George’s was thanks to the little devil on her shoulder, egging her on. George had told her to stay away. The order was a challenge, one she didn’t back down from. George had given Eddie one look, seen the outline of his gun holster, and glared at her. But he’d served them.

  Afterward, they drove to the house in silence. They were in Eddie’s car, a nondescript sedan, dark blue, long, and luxurious. An old man’s car, and she’d never considered Eddie old. She smiled. Facts were facts. Eddie drove the speed limit, looked both ways—twice—before taking a turn, and parallel parked in front of her house like a pro. Quite a feat on her narrow one-way street. She wondered absently why he hadn’t been the one to teach her to drive.

  Eddie insisted on clearing the house before he let her inside, so she sat on the porch swing and kept a vigilant eye on the neighborhood. No Uncle Manny. She deflated with a sigh. It was worth a shot, anyway. Eddie came out a few minutes later and pronounced the house secure. She straightened her jacket and prepared for the worst. After two weeks, the smell of rotting food would be horrific. Holding her breath, she walked into—

  She paused midstride. Spotless. The solid wood floors shone, a new sofa and love seat sat exactly where the previous one had sat, and her chair—

  Seeing the chair destroyed had damaged her soul. The way she remembered her freedom, the first attempt at self-sufficiency, was with the chair she’d bought with her first paycheck. It had been a symbol of leaving her father’s dysfunctional house. Losing it felt like going backward to a time when she had no control.

  A sting of tears hit the back of her eyelids. Vicki stiffened her spine. She was not going to cry, but she couldn’t stop herself from going to the newly upholstered chair and rubbing a hand across the top. It wasn’t the exact same fabric, but it was the freedom chair, and the pattern was a similar style and color. Someone had taken great care to refinish it.

  Eddie locked the door behind them and stood uncomfortably to the side. “Blake sent in a crew to clean everything.”

  “The chair?”

  “Miss Sofia.”

  The furniture, too, most likely. She trembled with gratitude. And shock. She really thought she’d have to clean the mess herself. She walked the rooms, taking note of the cleanliness and the furniture. How the larger pieces came close to matching the ones she’d had before. The exactness seemed like Sofia.

  Heart pounding, she stepped into the bedroom. The comforter set was the same jewel-toned velvet, the feel of soft moss on a warm sunny day. In the jewelry box, her costume jewelry was organized into little cubbies, as if someone knew she couldn’t sleep at night with her possessions in disarray. Sofia would be the only one who knew that weird piece of her psyche. It was a miracle Logan had let Sofia come here to do all this.

  She pulled out her phone and dialed her best friend. When Sofia answered, Vicki blurted, “Thank you.” They were the only words she could get past the lump in her throat.

  “I take it you’re at the house.”

  Vicki nodded. “Yeah.”

  “It took some finagling. Logan didn’t want me within ten miles of the crime scene, as he called it, but I was persistent. Blake had the house cleaned first, and thank God, because the smell of rotting food was bad enough when I got there.”

  Sofia didn’t know the half of it. The smell of rotting animal carcass had been horrific, but the odor was gone now. The room smelled of pine cleaner and potpourri. She stepped to the bathroom and pushed open the door. Spotlessly clean like the rest of the house. She closed the door to examine where the cat had hung. The tiles shone white. Bleach, she figured, but even the door was clean. She rubbed a hand over the spot. No knife hole. It wasn’t the same door, but it was close. She swung the door back and forth on the hinges as Sofia chattered on the phone. It was a new door.

  Blake.

  She rested her head against the wood, old wood, something he must have purchased from an antiques store. Just when she wanted to blast him for keeping her locked up for weeks, he did something so kind she couldn’t find words to process it all.

  Sofia had stopped talking on the other end, and Vicki took the silence as her cue. “I have to go, but I just wanted… Thank you.”

  The line was so silent, Vicki worried the cell service had dropped the call.

  “You’re still my best friend,” Sofia said in a soft voice.

  She pressed a finger to her twitching eye. “You, too.”

  “We good?”

  “Yeah,” Vicki answered. “More than.”

  She clicked off and strolled back through the orderly house. Eddie was in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “The house.”

  “It was Blake, mostly. And Miss Sofia.”

  “Then the hug is for everything else.”

  He turned and grabbed her hands in both of his. “You okay?”

  Geez, she gave a man a hug and he acted like the sky was falling. “Fine. Just.” She shrugged. “Glad to be back in my house.”

  Eddie squeezed her hands. His way of returning the hug. His hands were like oven mitts, but when she’d been young, he’d used those platter-sized hands to hold tiny little teacups at her tea parties. Blake said Eddie had a lot to atone for. Maybe. But the world wasn’t black and white, and Eddie wasn’t all bad. He certainly couldn’t be held accountable for her brother’s reign. Eddie had been a guardian angel when she was young. Part driver, part confidante, and always a bodyguard. He’d driven her to her first dance. Threatened the boy within an inch of his life if he hurt Vicki. No other man in her life had ever watched over her the way Eddie had. If she survived puberty, it was due to Eddie’s vigilance.

  “What do you need to do? We can’t stay all day. Blake is burning up my phone with messages.”

  “Sure.” She stepped away and went to the fridge. She didn’t bother to check her texts. If Blake wanted her back, he could wait. The inside of the fridge was sterile, almost like it was brand-new, and loaded with new condiments and coffee creamer.

  God b
less Sofia. Blake. Eddie. Vicki hugged herself. She wasn’t as alone as she wanted to believe. “After I get a cup of coffee, I’ll make some calls to clients.”

  Eddie poured them both a cup while she got the creamer.

  “After, I’ll grab a few clothes and I’ll be ready to go.” They didn’t need to stay as long as she thought, since the cleaning was already done. While Eddie sat at the kitchen counter with his coffee, she stepped back to her office and made the client calls. She scheduled several for the next day. Screw Blake and his rules. She had a life to lead and a business to run. She couldn’t hide at Déjà Vu the rest of her life.

  Done with the calls, she changed out of Sofia’s borrowed jeans. They’d been too long—Sofia was at least six inches taller, and Vicki had to roll them up twice at the hem. When she changed, she noticed the air in the room was warmer than normal against her naked skin. She put on her favorite skirt and top, added a new set of bracelets and rings, and went to investigate. In the utility closet off the back was a new furnace. They really had thought of everything.

  In her old life, the kindness wouldn’t have been a kindness. They would have called it a favor, and it would have put her in their debt. She wasn’t living the old life anymore. Vicki took a deep breath and let it go. They were being kind, and sometimes you just had to suck it up and say thank you. The devil on her shoulder hissed in displeasure, but she shook him off this time.

  Eddie insisted on sweeping her and her clothes for bugs and tracking devices. Finding none, he locked up and they headed to Déjà Vu in companionable silence. Manny hadn’t shown. There had been no dead-drop messages. She was no better off than she had been earlier in the morning, but her attitude was greatly improved and her head wasn’t pounding. Knowing her house was neat and orderly and waiting for her put a spring in her stride as she stepped into the bar. It was closed still, too early, but Blake met them just inside the door.

  “Anything?” he asked.

  She raised her eyebrow in question.

  “Any messages from Manny?”

  So he’d known why she’d gone? She shook her head. “No, but I saw what you did.”

  Blake looked over her head at Eddie. “Anything I need to know?”

  Eddie shook his head. “All clear.”

  “Good. I’ll see you back here at six in the morning. We have some details to go over.”

  Eddie nodded at Vicki, then walked out the way they’d come.

  Blake had ignored her comments about the house, which could either piss her off or … No, anger was her go-to response. She wasn’t in a mood to let it slip. “You had the house cleaned. Fixed the furnace.”

  He shrugged again, stuffed his hands in his pockets. Which was just the push she needed to finish the conversation. She liked him uncomfortable. Vicki went to him, a sassy swing to her hips. She hadn’t felt this good in days. “Thank you.”

  “No big deal.”

  His efforts were a big deal. Born under a bad sign, her life had been uncertain from the moment her mother died. She’d hated her father even more afterward; because of him, her mother had gotten pregnant. Her father and that unborn baby had stolen the only stability she had ever known. Until now. The only certainty in her chaotic life was Blake, rock solid at her side.

  Her heart flipped in her chest at the same moment her stomach took a dive. Every snarky, flirty comment she’d honed over the years fell away like last night’s blanket. Feelings winged through her chest, followed by another slow roll in her stomach. Oh, this was bad. She was falling for Blake.

  “You shouldn’t smile at me like that,” he said, but he opened his arms and welcomed her into his heat, dropped a sweet kiss on her lips. Skin to skin, the touch soft as his arms engulfed her. Pulled her tight. He lifted his head and gazed at her—so serious—with his ethereal green eyes so concerned, so focused, on her.

  The smile on her face split into a full-size grin. She couldn’t control it. “You shouldn’t kiss me like that.”

  The wicked gleam in his eyes matched the one in her memory. Here was the boy he’d been once, playful and mischievous and ridiculously sexy. There was a reason she hadn’t been able to resist him, and a reason she’d had to leave. At the moment, however, she focused on the way his eyes narrowed and his mouth quirked into a slight smile. “Shouldn’t kiss you how?”

  “Like you’re not going to stop.”

  He leaned in, towering over her and blocking her against the wall. “Oh, darlin’, I won’t be stopping, not anytime soon.”

  “Mmm.” Her soft sigh was part hunger and part uncontrolled lust. “Sounds promising.”

  “I doubt you’ll think so.” He leaned in and tasted her between words. The soft brush of his lips ignited her desire like a breeze to a wildfire. She forgot about Eddie, about the house and Manny and anything else. She let Blake lead her upstairs where he could prove just how patient he could be.

  …

  Blake’s heart still pounded from having Victoria returned safely to his side. He’d been thinking the worst, about the coincidence of Victoria out in public at the same time as the meeting with Sully. Anything could have happened, and she’d been so far away Blake wouldn’t have gotten to her in time. He wasn’t simply paranoid or possessive. Although he was probably both. But he’d been undercover long enough to know the score.

  The more time he had to think, the more convinced he became that his case and Victoria’s troubles were related. Sully was too interested in her. Could Sully have trashed her house? Killed her cat? If so, she was in far more danger than either had suspected. If Nick had something Sully wanted—or something he was blackmailing Sully with—and Sully thought Victoria had the same information? Sully would lie, steal, cheat, maim, or kill to get what he wanted. Killing a cat was child’s play. Victoria stood in his way, which put her square in Sully’s sights.

  What Victoria had forgotten could get them both killed. The only person who could help was the grim reaper. Her uncle Manny. Blake had spent the afternoon contacting every criminal informant in his network, putting out feelers for Manny, letting them think he was putting out a hit on someone. He had to find Manny before someone found Victoria. He wanted to talk to her about it, but the apartment was bugged and her tongue was currently lodged in his throat. Made it hard to talk.

  He pushed her against the wall outside the apartment. He ran his hands over her body to confirm she was in his arms. Safe in an unsafe world. He didn’t mind risking his life to take Sully down, but Victoria’s life was another matter. She’d come to mean something to him in the last few weeks. She wasn’t a woman warming his bed or an entertaining diversion, but he’d picked the worst possible time in his life to go off the rails. He ran his hands over her body like he owned her, because Victoria was his in every way that mattered. He protected what was his.

  “You with me?” Victoria panted. She glanced at him through thick lashes, her lids lowered in desire.

  He nibbled up her neck. “Where else would I be?”

  “Not your body. Your mind.” She dug her hands in his hair and yanked back to meet his gaze. The sting where she pulled zipped straight to his cock. The woman flat turned him on.

  “Where are you?” she repeated. Ordered him to answer.

  “Freaking the fuck out.” He could lie. He didn’t want to admit that her life endangered messed him up inside, but he was too far gone, strung too tight. Anger, desire, fear. They combined in his blood, a deadly cocktail. “Don’t you fucking leave again. Not without—”

  “Permission?” She fisted a hand and hauled back to deck him. He locked her hands together over her head. Against the wall.

  “Hold your tongue.” He didn’t know which was stronger. Anger or the physical need to take her. Own her. “Save the ‘I walk alone’ speech. Sully thinks you have something he wants.”

  Her eyes widened, but anger was still the most dominant expression. She struggled against his hands. “Who is Sully?”

  How much could he tell her without thor
oughly compromising his career? “He’s the kind of man Nick would have become if he’d lived another two decades. Think about that, Victoria. Think long and hard. Do not let him do to you what he did to your cat.”

  She fell back against the wall, no longer struggling against his hold. “You’re seriously worried?”

  Worried? He’d been out of his freaking mind while she’d been gone. “I gamble with my life every day. Part of the job, but the fact that Patrick Sullivan wants to meet you? Thinks you have information for him? I’m apeshit crazy.”

  Victoria watched him closely. “Could he get past Eddie?”

  “Why do you think I’m so—” He ground a hard kiss to her lips. He wanted to punish her for making him worry. For leaving the building. For putting herself in danger, even if it wasn’t her fault. Or maybe it was her fault. He wasn’t thinking straight. A buttload of stress clogged his system, and he didn’t have a way to beat it out. He wanted to slam her against the wall and take it out on her sweet body.

  The angrier he got—at the risks she’d taken her entire life—the more he forced his movements to gentle. Victoria had had more than her share of rough treatment at the hands of life. She deserved better. He tasted her skin, soft where he’d been angry. She tasted salty and sweet, addictive as he nibbled his way across her jaw before finding her lips. She answered his gentleness with passion, nipping at his lower lip. He wanted to answer her nip with a bite, but held himself back.

  He slid a hand under her shirt to touch the contours of her ribs. “So sweet.” So fragile. He reached up, unhooked the bra and massaged the delicate skin on the underside of her breast. Her nipples pebbled in response. “So soft.” So breakable. He reached up and rimmed the supple skin around her areola.

  She arched her chest, forcing her breast into his hand, and they both moaned at the contact. The nipple was hard, straining for his touch. Need contracted in his gut, in his balls. He swallowed. He wanted to take. To give. “Darlin’, I can’t go slow.”