I winced, picturing all the vehicles I pilfered in the last ten years. And the two years prior to that I spent backpacking through Europe. “Asia,” I began. “I’m so sor—”
“Shhh.” She handed me a blue helmet that smelled suspiciously like the king, sort of a mixture of old man sweat and rotted meat. “We’ll talk later. But right now, we have to get you out of here.”
“You’re the boss.” I unsteadily straddled the bike.
Smiling, Asia threw her leg over the moped, nearly gelding me in the process. “Try to remember that,” she said before slamming the bike into gear.
We jerked forward at the top speed of fifteen miles per hour. Rather than falling to the concrete below, I wrapped my arms around Asia’s cold flesh and held on for dear life.
At ten minutes before midnight I stumbled from the shower, my wet hair plastered to my head and a towel wrapped around my hips. The cold water had acted much like a gallon of coffee on my intoxicated soul. I could now slur my words at an amazing speed.
“Asia?” I staggered to Cinderella’s pink bedroom. I half expected it to be empty, but when I pushed the door open, Asia sat on the edge of the bed like some Victorian maiden, her arms wrapped around her chest. She glanced up at me through veiled eyes, her lips parted.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi.”
She patted the quilt next to her. “Want to sit down?”
I wanted that and so much more, but I stayed where I was. Too much was at stake—my life, for one thing. “What’s your game? I sit down and the bed explodes? A poison dart sticks me in the butt?”
“That wasn’t quite what I had in mind.” Her lips curved into a wicked smile. More beautiful than a stolen diamond and just as costly, she made risking my life worth it.
My eyes trailed down her fiery hair, past her slender neck, and into the rich round swells hidden beneath her shirt. The towel around my waist suddenly tightened. Asia shot me a knowing grin.
Fuck it. I ran to the bed, snatching Asia up into my arms, never wanting to let her go. Mostly out of fear she’d try to kill me if I did. “I’ve missed you,” I said against her neck. Her skin warmed under my lips. I kissed a trail down her throat, to the slope between her breasts. She tasted as wonderful as I remembered, like the holidays. The good ones. Not the ones you had to spend with family.
“I want you,” I said, pulling away to stare into her eyes.
“I wasn’t sure you still would.”
I gave a short, painful laugh. Not want her? I woke up every day for the last week wanting nothing more than to see Asia’s face. Wanting to hold her in my arms. To kiss her red-stained lips.
Insecurity rose within me, partially from the booze, but mostly from years of mistrust and loneliness. I swallowed hard, brushing a finger over her parted lips. “Tell me you want me too.”
Rather than waste her time with words, she yanked my towel free. Her fingers stroked the length of my erection, teasing and tempting me to lose control. But I wouldn’t make that mistake. Not tonight. Not ever again.
I grabbed her wandering fingers. “Does this mean I’m forgiven? No more assassination attempts?”
She pushed at my chest, knocking me back against the bed, and straddled me. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”
I looked into her eyes, nearly losing myself in their depths. “Would you be telling the truth?”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
Using her body as leverage, I flipped her on her back and leaned over her. My fingers burrowed under her shirt, stroking the warm flesh of her breasts. Her breathing deepened. “I’m a patient man,” I said, moving my hand lower. “But just so you know.”
“Yes?” Her voice caught.
“Your time’s up.” My mouth took possession of hers, our tongues jockeying for position. Win, lose, or draw, the orgasm was worth the risk.
Chapter 38
Lying next to me in bed, Asia ran her finger along my sweat-slicked chest. My breathing had just now returned to normal, yet my heart still pounded like the tortoise following accusations of doping. Like birds of a feather, we lay flocked together, our bodies entwined. As great as the sex was—and trust me, it was mind-blowingly naughty—lying here with Asia in my arms was heaven. Or as close to heaven as a blackhearted villain like me would get.
“RJ,” Asia began.
I gave her a small squeeze. “Hush, sweetheart. I know what you’re going to say.”
“You do?”
I nodded. “You don’t have to apologize. I messed up too. I should’ve told you the truth about who I was at the beginning. I can’t blame you for being mad... . Trying to kill me, on the other hand ...”
“Pardon me?” Asia pulled away, her eyes searching my face.
Warning bells rang inside my head. What did I say? I was being gracious, damn it. “Baby,” I cleared my throat, “what’s in the past is in the past. We both made mistakes.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “For your information, my only mistake was sleeping with an arrogant villain like you.”
Shoving the covers away, Asia launched herself from the bed. She jabbed her finger into my chest. “I wasn’t going to apologize, you idiot. I was going to ask how black wool got inside your ear.”
Shit. I dug inside my ear canal and pulled out a ball of fuzz. Asia frowned at the lint ball, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I said. “You see, I ...”
“Forget it.” Asia shook her head. “I should’ve known—”
The palace clock gonged, interrupting Asia’s rant. Her face paled slightly as the clock continued to ring.
“What time is it?” she yelled.
I glanced at my watch. “Seven minutes after midnight. Why?”
“Shit,” she said as she ran from the room, her naked body gleaming in the moonlight.
“Asia, wait,” I yelled, but it was too late. My lovely, naked, and annoyed princess vanished down the corridor. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of her on my pillow. She smelled faintly of danger and pumpkin spice. I smiled, my skin still burning from her touch.
For a brief moment tonight, I found my happily-ever-after. Now I just needed to convince Asia of that fact.
My first thought upon waking was Asia finally succeeded. I was dying, and nobody could save me. My head felt like a lead weight, and my stomach seconded that assumption. Bile crawled up my throat, burning my esophagus with even the slightest of breaths. “Hungover” was too nice a word for what I felt. Even the toe jam between my little piggies hurt. I suspected, given half a chance, they would go wee wee wee all the way to rehab.
“Aaaaahhhh.” I opened my eyes, praying for death.
“Morning, dear,” a voice said from the bed next to me. I shook my head, not surprised to find yet another Maledetto family member in my bed.
“My lady,” I said to the queen, ignoring the ringing inside my brain. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
The queen twirled the end of one of her red curls. Dressed in a morning gown and slathered in age-defying makeup, she should’ve looked fresh as a daisy. Instead, the queen appeared as haggard as Baba Yaga after a rough night. Her face held a greyish tint and deep circles marred her eyes. A red pimple protruded from the tip of her nose, as did a few stray black hairs. Suddenly I noticed Dru’s resemblance to her mother. Not a pretty sight.
“Where is he?” asked the queen.
“Who?”
“The king.” Her voice hitched. “He never came home last night.”
Right. I forgot the king’s extra–bachelor party activity. The thought of him and the stripper sent waves of sickness throughout my body. Either that or the bottle and a half of booze I’d consumed the night before.
I sat up in the bed, holding my head and groaning. I vowed never to drink again. Since my liver doubted my sincerity, the bile filled my throat. I ran for the trash can by the door, missed, and ended up yakking on my bare feet. My eyes slowly ros
e from my naked toes, up my calves, to the nude juncture between my thighs.
“I guess what they say about villains is true.” The queen motioned to my naughty bits. I blushed, quickly covering myself with my hands. Or trying to, because the queen was right, us villains had smaller than normal hands.
I crabwalked back to the bed and lunged under the covers. The queen smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“My lady,” I began.
She held up a hand. “Just tell me. Is she prettier than me?”
“Who?”
“The skank my husband is with, you dolt!”
I shook my head. “My lady. Your husband loves you.” If by love I meant “wishes you were dead.” “He would never break his vows.” The ones in which he swore to love, honor, and murder you in your sleep, I wanted to add, but given the crazy look in the queen’s eyes, I refrained.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded, not sure about anything, let alone the old king’s fidelity. He had left with the old stripper, after all. Then again, even the king of Maledetto could do better. Not much better. But a little bit better nonetheless.
“Well, in that case,” the queen bounded from my bed and hurried to the door, her skirt tangling around her ankles, “I must prepare a ‘special’ breakfast.”
“One fit for a king?”
She shot me a wicked smile and closed the door behind her loud enough to rattle my already aching head. I considered puking again, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Instead I relaxed against my pillow and sighed.
A cool breeze swept underneath my door, and a familiar scrap of paper danced around before quietly falling to the floor.
Son of a witch.
Head pounding, I slowly rose from the bed and knelt next to the paper. Coffee stains and lipstick frayed the edges, but the signature was easy to read: Nigel de Wolfe. My missing receipt. The one Miss Muffet had stolen from my pocket.
What was it doing here? I snatched up the receipt. Had the queen dropped it in her hurry to murder the king? Or had it fallen from Asia’s gown last night?
Chapter 39
Ten minutes later, my mind reeling with conspiracies, my aching head fell back down on my pillow. I let out a loud burp followed by a sigh. When the boozy fumes cleared, I frowned.
Today was Dru’s wedding day. There was plenty of stuff for me to do even without the reappearance of my missing clue, namely, ruin said wedding, unmask a killer, and win my princess once and for all. Easy enough for a villain. Not so much for a hungover impotent one with the taste of sheep spit in his mouth.
I winced, remembering all the wooly details from last night. Someone had tried to kill me, again. I wanted to believe Asia. However, in the harsh morning light, her sudden appearance and a new stack of dead bodies didn’t quite add up to innocence. And I knew my villainous math. In fact, that was my finest subject in school. That and home economics.
Then again, I’d lived through our lovemaking session with barely a scratch, which made me all the more suspicious. What was her game? Was she innocent or a reincarnated version of Mata Hari?
A knock at the door interrupted my musing. “Come in,” I said, jamming the receipt underneath my pillow.
The door opened, and Asia entered, looking as beautiful as always. The Devil’s Eye hung off her waist by a gold braided rope. The jewels sparkled above the juncture of her thighs. The aching in my head gathered lower. Thankfully, the blanket covered my erection.
Asia swept into the room, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Sleep well?” she asked.
“Like a baby.” A drunken, confused, and horny baby, but a baby nonetheless. “You?” My eyes raked over her body, settling on her face. It appeared to be glowing, either a trick of the fairy light or something more. Something dark and dangerous. Something, as a villain, I truly appreciated. I shifted under the covers.
Asia’s shoulders lifted in a vague shrug. “I came to apologize.”
“To me?”
A frown marred her forehead. “Of course. This is your room, after all.”
“I meant, for what?” Besides the obvious, like trying to blow me up, I wanted to add, but decided it might put a dent into our already awkward morning-after conversation.
“For a lot of things,” she said. “But mainly for what happens next.”
“Next?” The hair on my arms stood at attention. I had a really bad feeling about my continued good health.
I wrapped the blanket around me and rose from the bed. “Tell me what’s wrong. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
She shook her head. “If I asked you to go, now, today, would you?”
“No.” This wasn’t only about Asia anymore. I owed it to my ex-wife and a gaggle of wannabe pirates to find Cinderella’s killer. But mostly, I owed it to myself. I was more than RJ, villain extraordinaire. I was Rumple Stiltskin, damn it. A man with a mission. Nobody could take that away from me.
“That’s what I thought.” Asia opened the bedroom door. “Sheriff,” she yelled. “Your suspect is hiding up here. He looks dangerous. You better bring the Taser.”
“Huh?” I jumped from the bed and dove for my Levi’s. “You called the sheriff on me? What about last night?”
“It was fun. Thanks.”
Footsteps pounded on the staircase outside the bedroom. I yanked on my pants, sweatshirt, and combat boots. For once, the age-old laces versus Velcro debate ended without a tie.
Boots half-undone, I stomped to the window, avoiding my betraying princess’s eye. From the window to the ground below looked to be about a three-story drop, not nearly enough to kill me, but just enough to bust a femur. Damn.
Asia looked on with a smile. “You can’t escape.”
“Watch me.” I spun to face her. “Why, Asia? Why save me from the crime scene and then call the cops the next day? What can you possibly gain?”
She ignored my question and instead peeked into the hallway. “Oh, the sheriff looks pretty pissed. Is that a baton in his hand?” She winced. “I’d surrender if I was you.”
“Thanks for the advice.” I peeled the window open, years of paint popping free with a crack. A cool breeze swept inside the room, extinguishing the overhead fairy light.
I stuck my head out of the window, my stomach rolling from the height as well as last night’s debauchery. The jump didn’t seem that bad, if I landed in the soft bed of fertilizer next to the rosebushes. Of course, if I landed in the rosebushes, I was fucked.
“Don’t do it.” Asia tugged on my sleeve, real fear in her tone. “It’s suicide.”
Naw, at the worst, I would end up paralyzed from the eyebrows down. “You didn’t leave me much of a choice, did you?”
“It’s for your own good.”
Right. A long prison stretch for four murders I didn’t commit sounded great. Hell, I could finally kick my addiction to freedom, and, hey, I might even find Mr. Right on the inside. “I see how you might think that, given the fact you’ve tried to kill me at least three times. But I’m sorry to disappoint.”
“RJ, please. Think about the consequences.”
That was something I should’ve done the first day when I found Asia sitting in my chair, huffing down my dinner. But I was too stunned by her beauty and sad sob story to question her real motives. And now it was too late.
I grabbed Asia’s face in my hand and drew her mouth to mine. Our lips brushed, softly at first, mostly because I expected her to bite.
When my lips remained intact, I deepened the kiss. She wrapped her hands around my neck, our tongues, lips and teeth warring for supremacy. My sweet princess smelled of fine wine, promise, and pumpkin pie. Not a bad combination.
In fact, I’d started to crave her scent, like Jack Horner in need of a pie. Nothing felt right without Asia in my arms, which sucked since she proved yet again to be a treacherous witch.
Outside the door, the sheriff bellowed a warning: “Rumple Stiltskin, we have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”
The sheriff pounded on the door. “You have until the count of three to surrender or else.”
Asia’s hand fisted in my hair, dragging my mouth from her lips. We stared into each other’s eyes.
“One ... two ...”
A tear glistened in Asia’s eye, rolling down her cheek. My fingers brushed at the single shiny drop. “One day, you’ll push me too far,” I said.
“... two and three-quarters ... ,” the sheriff said.
Asia licked her lips.
“... two and four-halves ...”
Taking her hand, I pressed it to my heart. Our pulse beat as one, a little too fast, sure, but together. Forever.
“Three.”
The bedroom door burst open. The sheriff and his battalion of deputies in paisley pushed into the room. Surprisingly enough, the sheriff did have a baton in his hand. Not an ASP like I expected, but rather a baton favored by baton majors everywhere. Its red and gold streamers danced in the breeze.
Asia glanced at the sheriff, and then at the open window with me hanging half out. She bit her lip, as if weighing her options. The sparkle that came to her eye suggested I was in serious trouble. Her mouth locked onto mine one more time, and she shoved my body over the window ledge.
Chapter 40
Like a newborn African swallow, I flapped my arms harder and harder, but no matter how hard I flapped them, I still hit the ground with the force of a meteor. My legs hit first, followed by my head. I must’ve blacked out for a second or two, for when I awoke, the sheriff was at the window, Asia clutched in his arms like a prisoner. Served her right.
“Stay right where you are,” the sheriff said.
“No problem,” I lied. Then I, of course, staggered to my feet and limped quickly away. But not too far away. I still had a couple of things left on my to-do list to accomplish today. Number one: Stop Dru’s wedding, thanks to the stupid promise I made to Winslow the night before. Damn union curse. The poor bastard had asked nicely. What could I say?
Curses! Page 19
