When You Only Need To Ask (The House of Sin: The Beginning)

by Hadleigh Stephens

  My spine stiffens when I hear a disembodied voice ask, “Did she say Kimberly Sinclair?”

  My heart slows to a crawl. Not again. I barely manage to contain the groan that wants desperately to escape between my lips because I know where this is going to go. The same place it always does.

  He doesn’t take his eyes from me even when the guys behind him start talking even louder. I’m his sole focus.

  “Name’s Cooper. Cooper James,” he says right before his face hardens and he does take his eyes off me to look over his shoulder.

  The guys behind him keep up their conversation about me, but I’m used to it. He isn’t. Doesn’t bother me, at least not too much. He’s obviously bothered by their insensitive chatter, only adding to the mounting pile of qualities that are endearing him to me.

  “Yeah, what of it?” he asks remaining crouched on the ground. His one elbow rests on his knee the other touches the frame of the car holding his balance. I hear the agitated rhythm his fingers are tapping out, another indicator that he’s bothered. Missing the warmth of his hand as soon as it leaves my skin, I shiver. As if he’s in tune with everything, he turns back to me as soon as the shivers make their way through my body. He covers my hands with his again and rubs his thumb over the back and just like that, my chills disappear.

  Magic.

  “The guys are getting the equipment together to get you out, Angel.”

  That’s when it starts.

  When he starts calling me angel.

  I close my eyes committing to memory the endearment. I nod again.

  “You must be new in town, Sheriff.” I swallow hard trying to smile but I’m sure it looks more like a grimace. Nice. “We’ve not met before.”

  “An error I plan to remedy in the near future.” His lips curve up in a sexy grin. Totally out of place in this situation, but also nice. “Only been in town a couple of months.”

  “I’ve been busy with the shop. Guess that’s why we haven’t had a chance to meet yet.”

  “Guess so.” His eyes crinkle at the corner and once again turn a deep, dark chocolate. “My loss.” He looks like he means it, warming me from the inside out. “What shop?”

  “The House of Sin.”

  “Fuck.” A disembodied voice retorts with a drawl.

  “What?” A different voice asks.

  “She is a Sinclair.” The first voice replies.

  “Those Sinclair’s?” The second voice asks. I almost smile at his emphasis at those. I might find their inappropriate conversation quite funny if I wasn’t in so much pain. All the blood ran to my head hours ago and it’s pounding like someone’s beating on it with a sledgehammer.

  “Yep.” The first voice says with a hint of awe in his tone.

  I am one of them after all. One of those Sinclair’s. I don’t mind. It’s nice being a part of something so big.

  The Sheriff doesn’t respond immediately because the guys behind him won’t stop talking and getting louder and louder and low and behold, they still talk about me. This time they talk about me as every man’s sexual fantasy and not the pariah, quite demeaning, but most men give that no thought to how demeaning their lewd comments can be. I guess they assume us mere women will be flattered by them.

  “Ahhh…” He studies me through narrowed eyes, then his dimples appear. “I’ve met your brothers. Nice guys.”

  I work really hard at plastering a good-natured smile on my face and not a look of shock. “Most think so, until they don’t.”

  He lifts his brow at that comment and I just grin. “I’ve not been inside the business before.” He glances over his shoulder, then back with lines between his thick, dark brows.

  “The Princess?” The second voice asks.

  Oh, great! Do they have to go there? Second time tonight I’ve heard the word princess.

  “Goddamn.” And then the second voice whistles loudly and tunelessly.

  The sheriff obviously doesn’t feel the same because the warmth of his eyes is suddenly covered by a thick layer of frost and the corners of his mouth tighten and turn white. His head jerks around and I can only see his profile leaving me to guess at the rest. The look on his face must have been good though, because the voices quiet immediately as if rehearsed and it grows ominously quiet to where I think I can actually hear the snow falling.

  A muscle jumps in his cheek. “Get it together.” His quiet command interrupts their completely inappropriate conversation in a well-modulated but firm tone that countenances no lip from the guys. It even stops the thoughts running through my head and makes me listen. Wow, he’s good. “Guys, you’re acting unprofessional and if you’ll recall, we have an injured lady here.”

  “Sorry, Sheriff.” The first voice sounds downright contrite.

  “Yes, Sheriff. Sorry.” The second voice still holds a hint of awe in his tone even though he apologizes.

  “Sorry about that.” He turns back to me and his face is as warm as it was before as if he hadn’t just reprimanded an entire fire squad.

  I shrug with a tight smile.

  “You’re being brave, Angel.” He studies me with a smile and the giant dimples crease his cheeks.

  “Do I have a choice?” I retort with a huff and a snort. My grandmother would be appalled at my behavior. His eyes drop to the pulse beating rapidly in my throat and I can tell he sees that I am holding on by the thinnest of threads. Yet all he has to do is lift one brow and I know I’m acting like a brat.

  “Sorry. It’s been a long day,” I apologize softly. I’m actually impressed that I haven’t lost it yet. But I’m almost too calm, which bothers me a little. Most women would’ve at least cried and I haven’t even done that, well a little bit earlier but my eyes feel weirdly dry right now. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  He nods in answer. “Can you tell me what happened, Angel?”

  I force myself to swallow. “I think I hit a patch of black ice making my Jeep slide and hit the barrier causing it to flip over when I rounded the curve too fast. I rolled and rolled and rolled until I careened down into a deep ravine landing on the roof of the Jeep and that Sheriff is how I ended up hanging upside down with all the blood rushing to my head.”

  His lips curve up. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out what appears to be a crisp white handkerchief. I’m temporarily distracted by the fact that he carries a handkerchief. Isn’t that an archaic practice? My grandmother would be proud. I’m brought back to reality as he swipes it gently over my cheek and when he pulls it away there’s a dark red streak across the once perfectly white cloth.

  “I’m bleeding?” My voice rises to a not so attractive octave and I look at him, my eyes wide and now I’m seriously panicking again. All the warmth and comfort that his touch, his voice, his presence had brought exits my body like I’m being chased by a chainsaw wielding psychopath. My teeth chatter, my body shakes uncontrollably, and my breath comes in deep gulps. Dizziness overwhelms me and I just know I’m fixin’ to faint for the first time in my life. So I fall back on my standard. I close my eyes and start to count again. “One, two, three…” And I’m so worked up that I don’t even realize I’m counting loud enough for him to hear.

  “Angel.” It’s not a question. It’s more like an order. That’s a good thing, because I need someone to tell me what to do right now. My eyes flutter open and cut to him immediately.

  “It’s the same tiny cut on your lip,” he soothes calmly as he folds the handkerchief over the blood stain and shoves it back into his pocket. “Just broke open with your beautiful smile. Nothing to worry about, Angel.” There it is again. That endearment that just flows off his silver tongue without thought, but means something to me.

  His eyes warm as he reaches back into the car to cradle my jaw. His finger just barely grazes over my bottom lip. “Nothing at all.” Then his eyes turn intense and I blink in surprise. “Got it?”

  I nod again. I work really hard at slowing my breathing when suddenly my red-rimmed eyes start to fill and I have
to blink to stop the tears. I have no intention of crying right now.

  None.

  No matter how wiped out and emotionally and physically exhausted I am.

  “That’s good, Angel, now breathe.” He smiles slow and easy. Calm and steady. Warm and soothing. “These clowns are ready to cut you outta here.” He jerks his thumb behind him. “They’re good at what they do, no matter how they might’ve been acting a minute ago.” He arches an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifts higher on the right side and the dimple grows even deeper. “You might get jostled a tad.”

  I smile at his use of the word tad and his face softens at my smile.

  “What has you smiling, Kimberly?”

  His dimple appears again and distracts me from the pain but doesn’t distract me from how I like the way my name rolls of his tongue. Low and gravelly.

  “Not that I don’t appreciate it, Angel, but seems a little outta place at a time like this?” His eyes narrow on me and he waits patiently for me to respond.

  I hesitate for just the briefest of moments before replying, “I didn’t know big, strong sheriffs used the word tad.” His gaze follows the lines of my smile and the wince when my lips curve even more and the split in my lip reopens. His eyes darken when my tongue flicks out to swipe over the injury. “Seems a little, ya know—outta place.” I mirror his phrasing surprised that he’s already made me feel so at ease that I’m able to banter back and forth with him without hesitating overly much and thinking too much about what words are going to come out of my mouth.

  “SPT. Standard Police Terminology, Angel.” I not only catch the smile, but I hear it in his voice as well. He has an extremely expressive voice. He pats his chest over the pocket in his shirt with his brows furrowed, then he winks. “I’ll show you the handbook when we get outta here.” A mischievous smile hovers round his lips. “Must’ve left the handbook in my other shirt.”

  He says it so seriously I laugh and then gasp on a wince when pain shoots across my ribs and my lips stretch in the exact spot that’s already split.

  “Take it easy.” He touches my jaw and it’s the kind of touch that resonates throughout my entire body. His thumb swipes at the dot of blood and whisks it away. “You’re in excellent hands.” He winks again, a seriously freakin’ sexy ass wink.

  I manage a nod.

  “Nice shoes.”

  My brow creases. “Nice shoes?”

  “I like ‘em.”

  “You like my shoes?”

  “Yeah, sexy.”

  They are pretty amazing. Five inch peep-toed black satin pumps with big bows on the toes and red bottoms. I like ‘em too. Shoes are my one allowance to exciting when I’m not at work. “A man after my own heart,” I reply playfully knowing he’s still trying to distract me from what’s going on around us.

  His beautiful lips lift on one side along with one brow.

  “I’d swoon if I wasn’t strapped in.”

  “I happen to like my women strapped in, then they can’t get too far away.”

  I snort again, completely not responding to the part about being strapped in but my interest is certainly piqued. “Like any women would run away from you.” My eyes slowly travel over the parts of him that I can see. “But I still can’t believe you just said that to me.”

  He lets out a rich laugh that echoes in the snow covered ravine.

  I furrow my brows and narrow my eyes. “Are you trying to distract me again, Sheriff?”

  “Cooper,” he tosses out.

  His seriousness causes me to chuckle and I relax my brow, letting the lines between my eyes smooth out. “Are you trying to distract me again, Cooper?”

  His eyes glint. “Is it working, darlin’?”

  I blink, then pause as if I have to think about it a moment. “Yep.”

  “Then yep, I’m trying to distract you.” He grins, his chocolate eyes glittering.

  He starts to rise from his crouched position and I cry out, my hand flying to his arm. “Where are you going?” Then I curse myself for sounding desperate.

  He lowers his big body back down giving me a quizzical look. “I’m just getting out of the way so these guys can do their job.” He tilts his head to the side. “I won’t be gone long.”

  “Please,” I beg, not caring how desperate I must sound. I reach for his hand and clutch it tightly with mine. I hiss in a breath as pain radiates through my chest with the impulsive movement. “Please,” I repeat hoarsely.

  “We’ve gotta get you out of here, Angel.” He stares deeply into my eyes. “You’ve been out here in the cold much too long as it is.”

  I tighten my fingers around his hand, my fingernails biting into his flesh. I’m sure I’m leaving a bunch of little half-moon indentions across the back of his hand.

  He glances over his shoulder, then I hear the first voice instruct, “Cradle her shoulders with your arms to catch her when we cut her loose.”

  “Gotcha,” Cooper calls over his shoulder. “I’ve done this before so I’m ready.”

  “Even better,” the first voice praises as he crouches down next to Cooper.

  “Say when.” Cooper lowers from his crouching position all the way to his knees.

  “You’re fixin’ to get your jeans all wet,” I point out.

  “They’ll dry.”

  A second body crouches into view. “My name’s Jason, Miss Sinclair.” He smiles, his tone an attempt to reassure. “I’m going to put this neck brace on, alright?”

  I stiffen but nod jerkily at this and wait as he wraps the thick brace around my neck, then out of nowhere I start to pant, feeling like I’m fixing to hyperventilate again with the panic overtaking me. Nate loved putting his hands around my neck. Loved to cut off my air. Loved to feel my body seize up in a panic, he gained a sick sense of power at my weakness.

  I squeeze my eyes shut tightly while I work at keeping perfectly still and start to count to ten. One, two, three, four—

  “Come back to me, Angel.”

  His voice moves over me like a caress and I blink open my eyes as he clasps my hand, not hard, but firm enough to grab my attention and bring me back to the present.

  “Angel, I’ve got you.” He watches me and the tender look in his eyes helps me to ease my lips and lesson the tension that’s surely causing tight white lines at the corners of my mouth because I can feel them and I can also feel them smooth out with his look.

  This is where it gets funny. As soon as they say ‘ready’, I fall into Cooper’s strong arms like I’m at some office team building activity. The trust that strong. He keeps talking, his voice washing over me in soothing waves the entire time as he lifts me out of the car and holds me securely against his chest for just a moment. His ragged inhale rumbles through his chest and against my cheek. I moan because all the movements hurt but also because it feels so good being held in his strong arms. That’s something I wouldn’t dare say out loud but I definitely want too, especially when he gives me the tiniest of squeezes.

  “You okay, Angel?”

  The worry in his voice evident and I nod against his shoulder feeling his big body relaxing into mine. I burrow my face against the coolness of his plush jacket and commit to memory his delicious scent. Snow, spice, pine, and all man tickle my nostrils. I inhale again.

  “Good to know.” His reply sounds hoarse and I swear his lips brush softly against the top of my head before he settles me on the stretcher being held between two big firemen. Taking a step back, he crosses his arms over his chest. I lay there my eyes trained on him as they carry me up the steep incline and into the waiting ambulance. He follows.

  I notice Cooper nod to one of the deputies when we reach the top jerking his chin in my direction. “I’m riding with Miss Sinclair.” I hear him even though he says it quietly like he doesn’t want me to hear and I smile or at least smile the best I can because I want him with me. He makes me feel good and I want to feel good right about now.

  Chapter Four

  Never carry on a p
rivate conversation in company

  Iwatch in absolute fascination as Cooper easily hauls himself inside the ambulance and plops down on the jump seat opposite from the gurney. He flashes a distracted smile at me before removing his hat. This is my first real look with the lights on and it’s well worth the wait. He’s gorgeous.

  I watch as he runs his long, lean fingers through his thick brown hair tipped with gold making the short strands spike straight up in the air at the crown. In an attempt to smooth the already tousled strands, he ruffles his hat smooshed hair even more which only manages to make the dark strands stand in even more disarray around his head. Unfortunately, the disarray does little to detract from his attractiveness, in fact, it actually enhances it. I feel my fingers twitch into the white sheet covering me at the irrational desire I feel to muss his hair even further.

  A heartbeat of silence descends over the ambulance and during this seemingly infinitesimal moment, he studies me as I study him. That’s when I notice the visible lines of worry that mar his forehead between his thick brows. Are those because of me?

  His eyes continue their perusal, traveling over my disheveled appearance making me nervous because I know with the light in the ambulance, I’m on full display. He makes me want to check the buttons on my shirt, smooth my skirt, all the little things I would normally do. All the little things that make no difference right now. He can see ‘em all. The good, the bad, the ugly.

  I lay perfectly still thinking of anything but the fact that the EMT is getting pretty intimate as he checks for additional injuries. When he touches my ribs, I jerk. At that he pulls up my white button-down shirt to just beneath my breasts and when I glance down, I see not only the dark bruises that have already began to form and the definitive lines where the seatbelt crossed over my chest but the fact that my ribs are visible.

  The EMT glances up as he asks, “One to ten. How bad does it hurt when I press?”