Fortunes Fool

by Gale, Eva; D'Arc, Bianca; Kent, Cassidy; March, Selah

  The pounding of footsteps down the hall saved him from asking if that had been her scheme all along. Because if it had? He might've been forced to kill her. Both their lives at the mercy of those bugfuck crazy bitches, and she'd planned to save them with a lighter and a pair of heels? As it was, he kissed her much harder than was strictly necessary. Three firefighters appeared in the doorway, and the next little while was all about getting out of the building. Then they were sitting on the curb, watching Hotel California's soggy swan song, their matching nakedness covered by blankets. Marcus got the attention of a passing uniformed cop. "Did they get everybody out?" The cop shrugged. "They only found the two of you. If there was

  anybody else, they found their own way out." Leah looked at him, her eyes wide. There was a smudge of soot on her cheek and another on the end of her nose. She opened her mouth to tell him something, but an EMT interrupted by insisting she join him in his ambulance for a quick exam. "I'll be right back," she said. He made sure he was gone before she could make good on her promise.

  Chapter Nine

  She knew he was on his way four days before he showed up at her door. Dreamed about him three nights running. Saw him standing there in the hall outside her apartment, with his hands shoved into the pockets of a brand new leather jacket and a smirk on his face. Looked like maybe he'd gotten a haircut, too.

  That morning—a full two weeks after the fire that took out the entire back half of Hotel California and ended with the city demolishing the building—she woke early and made a pitcher of sangria. She bathed carefully, dressed herself in a blue silk kimono she found in the back of her closet, lit some incense, and sat down to wait. When he hadn't shown up by noon, she began to wonder if the dreams were wishful thinking.

  She remembered what he'd said. "If we get out of this alive, I'm gonna track you down and fuck you stupid." Not the most romantic proposition she'd ever heard. And maybe the fact that he'd already fucked her negated it. But a girl could hope.

  She got up off the sofa and poured another glass. The phone rang. She didn't bother to look at the caller ID. "Hi, Gram." "Is he there?" Her grandmother sounded excited. It was a little

  disturbing, to tell the truth. "Is who where?" "Don't be coy, Leah. It's unbecoming in a woman of your age." Leah sighed. She'd been doing that a lot lately. "No, he's not here. I

  don't think he's coming." "Yes, he is. In fact...go fix your hair." "What?" She set the glass on the counter and ran a hand over the

  loose bun at the nape of her neck. "Why?" "He's on his way up. Be sure to call me after and tell me everything.

  And remember, Leah—destiny is all in the details." What the hell did that mean? Leah didn't have time to ask, because her grandmother had hung up.

  She stood in the kitchen and waited, knowing Marcus was in the elevator. Because Gram might be a pain in the ass, but she rarely got stuff like this wrong. Leah counted to ten...and then kept counting. Twenty. Thirty. Thirty-five and...

  The sound of the bell made her jump. She set the sangria—which she'd managed to splash down the front of the kimono—on the counter and tried not to run to the door.

  In her dreams, he hadn't brought flowers, but now he was holding a dozen blooms of the purest white.

  "Innocence and truth? You really think so?" She stared at him over top of the bouquet he'd just handed her. Yeah, he'd definitely gotten a haircut. And now, minus the heavy stubble on his jaw, he looked a lot less dangerous. Funny how he didn't feel any less dangerous to her heightened senses. He looked confused. "Huh?" "White roses. They symbolize..." She shook her head. "Never

  mind." "You don't like them? Here, let me—" He reached for the flowers

  and she stepped back, forcing him to move into the apartment. "I like them fine. Come on into the kitchen." He followed her. She could feel his gaze on her back and wondered what he was thinking. She didn't look at him again until the roses were safely stowed in a vase on the counter, and she'd poured him a drink.

  "You weren't easy to find," he said, and drank half the glassful in one long swallow...which made her think he might be just a little nervous. So good to know she wasn't the only one. "All I had was your first name and the fact that you're an English professor."

  She shrugged. "I would've given you my number if you hadn't...you know...disappeared." "It wasn't anything personal. I had a lot to do." She nodded. "Of course." "Listen, I had to check in with the Chief and give a full report." He was frowning, and his jaw was set in a tight line. "Then make sure there was an APB out on DeTagliera and Shannon—"

  "You have nothing to justify, Detective. Frankly, I'm surprised you're here. It can't be easy..." She let her voice trail off and took another sip of sangria. All at once, she wished she hadn't answered the door. Or that she'd gone with straight tequila instead of this fruity red sludge. Then at least she'd be halfway to numb by now. "What can't be easy?" Great. Now he sounded defensive to the tenth power. She shook her head. "Nothing. I appreciate your visit. Is it official

  business?" Maybe they had a lead on the Madre. Surely, after the hours Leah had spent giving a highly detailed statement and being examined by a police department-approved physician, someone would've called if they'd actually made an arrest. All that humiliation deserved a little consideration, didn't it?

  "No," Marcus said, "it's not official business, and what did you mean when you said 'it can't be easy'?"

  Leah turned away from him, dumped the rest of her drink into the sink and stared at the wall. "It can't be easy seeing me again after what you went through. What I helped put you through."

  "Whoa." He came up behind her and put a hand on her arm. "What happened to me was in the line of duty. Besides, you saved my life."

  She turned her head and looked at him. "And maybe that's part of the problem?"

  His face changed. Hardened again for a second or two. Then he smiled. "I'm not that much of a jerk. A woman can save my ass anytime."

  "And when you look at me, you don't...it doesn't..." She wasn't even sure where she was going with this. But it was difficult to believe he didn't associate her with some seriously traumatic shit.

  He moved the hand that rested on her arm to her shoulder. "When I look at you, I feel grateful."

  "Grateful." Lovely. Oh well. It was better than hating the sight of her. "Yes, grateful. And I'm glad to see you again. I have questions." "Ah, of course." She ran her hand down the front of the kimono, suddenly self-conscious. What must he think of her, greeting him dressed like a high-class prostitute? "Well, go on. Shoot."

  He let his hand drop and stepped away from her. "First of all, I'm going to assume you knew DeTagliera's fire phobia from having worked for her before?"

  Leah nodded. "It wasn't something anyone ever discussed, especially with someone like me. I was sort of...low on the totem pole. But I knew. I..." In point of fact, she'd dreamt about it, all those years ago. But she wasn't going to tell him that.

  "But you were being groomed? To be an acolyte, like Shannon?" His voice had slipped into the cadence of interrogation. Clipped and careful. "Yes." "And why did you leave?" She sighed. "What difference does it make?" "I'd like to know." "But I don't have to answer if I don't want to?" He shook his head. "No. But I'm asking you to." She turned away from him again. This was getting to be too much. Too painful. Maybe if she just said it out loud—told him about the visions and all the other special "gifts" she inherited from Gram—he'd go away and leave her alone. God knew enough men had. She said, "I had a vision. I saw the Madre order an acolyte to slit a man's throat. I didn't know...I mean, I knew things got a little rough in Donnatella's private rooms. I heard the screaming. But everybody always seemed to leave happy." She looked at him. "I left the day after I had the vision. You can believe me or not, I don't care." "I believe you." She stared at him, not sure. What if this was a game? What if the Santa Rosa P.D. had decided to hold her responsible in Donnatella's place? "Why?" she asked him. "Because you magically appeared and disappeared in the basement
of Hotel California? Because I could hear you talking in my head? Because you saved my life?" He moved closer to her again. "I think we already covered this."

  "I..." She felt tears gather in her eyes and fought them back. "I didn't think you remembered. I thought maybe the drug...and when I came back, you looked at me like you didn't know me."

  "Never let it be said I can't work a poker face, baby. But I have perfect recall on the subject of you."

  She laughed, and it kind of sounded like a sob. When he reached for her, she fell against him. The leather of his coat smelled raw and musky against her face. She let herself breathe and willed the tears away. "Any other questions, Detective?"

  "Just one. Were you behind the anonymous call that sent the fire department to the club? The dispatcher said it phoned in by some guy. Very nervous." She craned her head back to look up at him without leaving the

  inner sanctum of his embrace. "Yes. But that's all I'm saying about that." "Right." He pulled her tight against him once more. "So now what?" She swallowed the ball of tension that had risen to

  the back of her throat. "Is this the part where you fuck me stupid?" His laughter rumbled against her ear, way down deep in his chest.

  "Was hoping you'd forgotten that." "Yeah, well. My recall isn't too shabby, either." He worked a hand under her chin and lifted her face too look at him. "Leah, I need to know. What happened between us...what they made me do—" "It's all right." "It's not all right. It was rape." "Then they raped both of us, didn't they?" "But—" "You said no, right? You did everything you could to avoid going

  through with it, up to letting them kill us." There was a pause while his eyes searched her face. "You're sure? Because if you have even one doubt, I'll walk out of here and you'll never see me again." "That sounds like a threat." He didn't answer. Just looked at her and looked some more. "Really, Marcus. It's okay." She pressed her face into his chest again to hide the red flush that was building in her cheeks. "Besides...I think you know I wanted you. How could you miss it?" He cleared his throat. "I don't like to assume stuff like that." "Right. Like there wasn't enough evidence to prove it." They stood there, holding each other in her kitchen for another minute. Maybe two. He rubbed slow circles against her back, his hand feeling big and warm through the silk of the kimono. Finally, he said, "Leah? Should I go, or—" "No." Okay, that didn't sound overly eager or anything. "I mean,

  unless you want to." "I'm more interested in what you want." He set her away from him and looked down at her, his eyes dilated and intense. "Tell me what you want, Leah. I'll do anything."

  Whoa. An exact quote from her dream all those nights ago. Déjà vu didn't begin to cover it. She grabbed his hand. "How did you get this scar?" She ran her thumb over the crescent-shaped mark and heard the faraway sound of shattering glass one more time. "I put my fist through a window when I was fourteen. Why?" She shook her head. What had Gram said? Destiny is all in the

  details? She glanced at him and then back at the scar. "Why did you do that?

  Break the window, I mean?" "It was nothing. There was this woman. She was being...hurt. I could see through the window, the guy was beating the shit out of her. So..." "So you saved her." "I guess." She turned his hand over and pressed a kiss to the center of his palm. "Take me to bed, Detective, before I jump you right here on the kitchen floor."

  He peeled off his jacket and tossed it aside. They walked hand-in hand to her room. He stopped her in the doorway and said, "Can I kiss you now? You said I could kiss you—" "After you bought me dinner. It's not even lunchtime yet." "But you'll make an exception." "Awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?" The feeling of his mouth on hers lit her up, burning down deep like she'd swallowed a mouthful of hot, spicy broth. Like heat lightning flashing in her veins. Like...like...like nothing that could be described with some lame, English 101 simile-slash-metaphor combination. Something inside her went soft and needy, and she clutched at him. "Now," she said. "Right now." "What do you want?" His voice was tight through his teeth, low and coarse and rubbing like sandpaper across every nerve in her body. "Tell me what you want. Need to hear you say it."

  She backed up toward the bed, pulling him along by his belt-buckle. "Want you to fuck me stupid, Detective. Just like you promised." "I can do that." "Yeah, I bet you can." He pushed her down, knocking her back onto the bed. Then he rolled them so she lay on top, and held still as she worked open the buttons of his shirt and the buckle, button and zipper that held up his jeans. In another few seconds, he was naked under her. And then she felt shy. Like she hadn't been up close and personal with his body. In particular, his cock, which lay tight to his belly and twitched when the sleeve of her kimono brushed over the head. She watched his face as she took him in her hand. Closed her eyes and felt the blood-hot shaft. Remembered.

  He groaned her name when she squeezed, and rolled them again—a half-turn this time. They landed on their sides, facing each other. He grabbed her knee and lifted so that it hooked over his hip. "I can't wait. Have to...next time—"

  "Next time can be all about the gentle and romantic." She leaned over and licked across the corded muscle of his bicep. Then she sunk her teeth into his flesh, hard. He started, his hips thrusting forward against her. She reached between them and guided him home.

  "There's gonna be payback for that, you know," he said, his breath hot on her face. "And I promise, it'll be a bitch." Then he was fucking her, the slick-rough press of his cock making her shake and bite back whimpers. He drew nearly all the way out, teasing her with the tip, dancing it over her clit and then sliding back down to push in. He grabbed her hips and angled her body so his mouth could reach her nipples. He took one in his mouth and raked it with his teeth—a threat that was more like a promise.

  "Please," she said. "Please, ohgodplease." She didn't even know what she was asking for, unless it was more. He seemed to understand, because his strokes got longer. Harder. He ground against her in a slow circle at the height of every thrust until she buried her face in his neck and sobbed.

  He rolled them a third time, then he was moving them up the bed with every thrust, rucking the blankets and sheets under them. Her shaking gave way to shuddering. The muscles in her belly and thighs tightened defensively. So good...so hard and so good, just like she needed it.

  When she came, pleasure curled into every nerve ending, rolling out and back again, not letting her breathe or think or do anything but try to survive it. She felt him pull up tight against her, pulsing deep inside. In a choked voice, he whispered her name. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his face. Fierce little pecks and nips that made him laugh when he was finally finished coming.

  It took ten minutes for her to find her voice again. They lay side-by side, staring at the ceiling. Not touching except for their intertwined fingers.

  "They're still out there somewhere," she said. "Shannon and the Madre." He turned his head to look at her. "Are you scared?" "Are you?" He cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm not happy about it, I'll say that much. Especially since they know you. They can find you if they try." "What should I do about it? I'm not abandoning my life for them." "No. But you shouldn't be alone." She lay there in silence for a few seconds. "Is that an offer?" "Do you want it to be?" She turned onto her side to study him. "I can take care of myself,

  you know. I'm not helpless." "Yeah. So long as they keep making disposable lighters and stupid

  shoes, you're golden." "Listen, you. I saved your ass." "You did. And I told you, I'm okay with admitting that." "You are? You're sure?" "Yeah, if you're okay with admitting you could use a little in-house

  protection." She stared at him some more. "We could try it. Temporarily. But if

  you change your mind—" "That works both ways. You might hate having me around." "You surprise me, Detective. I didn't expect you to be

  so...enlightened." He snorted. "I'll check back with you in a week on that subject." "You do that." She slipped her fingers from between his and lifted her hand to stro
ke his chest. "Now...about that payback? What exactly did you have in mind?" He grinned at her. Naughty. Maybe even a little dangerous. She'd never felt so safe in her life.

  Miranda Writes Cassidy Kent Also by Cassidy Kent

  Sunset Key Raleigh in Rio Dolce & Diana

  Chapter One

  She lit up his dull world like a firecracker on the Fourth of July. Ben

  knew that now as he leaned over her body. Miss Julie's flaming red tresses splashed the warm hay with bright licks of color, the olive tone of her skin revealed as he pushed up her petticoats inch by inch. Her long, luscious legs spread slightly, even while her mouth played coy games with his mind.

  " Do you really want me, Benjamin?" she asked, her lower lip quivering with apprehension and excitement. Did he ever. He woke up nights, sweating and dreaming over the ranch owner's

  daughter. She even haunted his days… And now here she was, opening up for him like a sensual gift, allowing him to love her with his body as much as he did with his soul. Damned if he would pass up the chance.

  He slipped an arm underneath her back, caring not for the needle pricks of hay. All he could think about was his hand on her leg, sliding irreverently up the inside of her thigh. When he reached the gate of her pleasure, Ben took that moment to kiss her. Miss Julie's mouth opened gratefully, and when her silky, pink tongue slipped across Ben's, his erection pressed against her exposed flesh.

  He tore the sleeve of her pretty rosebud ball gown and claimed her breast, groaning at the feel of her budding nipple against his palm. "Take me, Benjamin. Please," she begged. "I can't deny a lady her pleasure." Her need for his sudden entry demonstrated itself when he palmed her sex. Lush, liquid desire covered his hand, and he knew he ought not make her wait. He removed— BANG! BANG! BANG! Miranda Franklin jumped out of her computer chair and gasped. Her two calico companions marched toward the sound, alternately hissing and mewling in defense of their owner against the perpetrator pounding on her door.