Seduced by a Dangerous Man

by Cleo Peitsche

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  Seduced by a Dangerous Man

  SEDUCED BY A DANGEROUS MAN

  All Romance eBooks Edition

  Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer:

  SEDUCED BY A DANGEROUS MAN © 2014 by Cleo Peitsche. All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission in writing from the author. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is for entertainment purposes only.

  This book contains mature content and is solely for adults.

  Cover Photo ©2014 by Pouch Pictures

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for purchasing this ebook. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I look forward to sharing more of my stories with you.

  Why join my mailing list? Because I release new stories at a special price to thank my readers!

  xoxo,

  Cleo

  Other Titles By Cleo

  After Forever/Bisexual Billionaire Trilogy (Threesome Romance)

  Careless

  Hopeless

  Fearless

  Office Toy Series (BDSM Gang Bang Romance)

  Office Toy

  Client Satisfaction

  Company Vacation

  Flex Time

  Soft Skills

  Executive Package

  By a Dangerous Man (BDSM Erotic Romantic Suspense)

  Trapped by a Dangerous Man

  Wanted by a Dangerous Man

  Saved by a Dangerous Man

  Tempted by a Dangerous Man

  Seduced by a Dangerous Man

  Take Me Hard Series (BDSM Romance)

  Ride Me Hard

  Love Me Hard

  Use Me Hard

  Take Me Hard Compilation #1

  Push Me Hard

  Fantasy Playland Series (BDSM)

  Sleeping Lady

  Sleeping chez Sade

  Wide Awake

  Wide Open

  His Kiss

  Fantasy Playland Box Set

  Mistress Moi Series (Femdom)

  My Three Slaves

  Cuckold Chuck

  Faye-Faye and the Sadist

  Bad Boyfriend Series (Femdom Romance)

  Bad Boyfriend

  Anthologies

  Underground Erotica

  The smoky dive bar was so packed that getting from the front door to the alcohol made me feel like a salmon fighting to swim upstream. No one could hear me over the thumping bass, and I quickly gave up trying to be polite.

  This was why I tended to stay away on Saturday nights—louder cover bands, more oblivious drunks. I was breathless by the time I’d elbowed through the sweating crowd.

  Despite the palpable sense of impatience among the thirsty, one of the bartenders was bobbing his head along with the beat. He smiled widely when he noticed me. After serving up beers, he took a moment to make me a weak mojito—just how I liked it—and slid it across the counter. I started digging in my jeans for money, but he shook his head firmly. He was cute, with inky black eyes and dimples he flashed the way some men flaunted gold watches.

  He was more than cute, but he wasn’t Corbin. Therefore, he wasn’t my type. Weeks earlier, on a slow Tuesday night, we’d chatted a bit. I’d quickly told him I was seeing someone. He’d nodded and smiled, but from then on, he comped me drinks most nights. He probably thought I’d invented Corbin, and now he planned to win me over with free booze.

  I smiled my thanks as I picked up the overflowing tumbler.

  I headed for the back of the bar, knowing it would be vastly less crowded and noisy. A gap opened, and I used my drink to claim space on a tall, narrow table. There was a deafening crash of drums, a discord of cymbals and abused electric guitar strings. Then everything fell relatively silent.

  “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” the lead singer drawled in a throaty voice.

  Someone vacated a stool. I snagged it, dragged it along the sticky floor and climbed on top, my back to the wall so I could watch the room.

  The hookup scene had once been my personal empire. Now it just made me sad. Everyone seemed so lonely, so pathetic. I knew they probably weren’t; I sure as hell hadn’t been, back then. But I hadn’t dreamed that a man like Corbin existed. Now I knew. And that changed everything.

  The alternative to this ritual was too depressing. I’d let my friendships slide lately, which meant sitting at home. Except it wasn’t home. It was my brother’s place, and I’d been squatting in Rob’s guest room for far too long. He kept insisting that I could stay as long as I wanted, and he seemed to mean it, but I suspected he missed being able to walk around in his skivvies. I certainly yearned for my own space and privacy.

  Rather than ask me to pay rent, Rob had assigned me to grocery duty. Thanks to that kindness, plus regular double shifts at the diner where I now worked, my finances were much improved. I was close to being able to cover the security deposit at any apartment in my long-term budget, but I hadn’t even started looking at places. There was another reason I couldn’t move out, and that one couldn’t be solved with money.

  I became aware of a man swaying in my peripheral vision.

  “Hey, I know you,” he slurred. “Been a couple of weeks.”

  I decided to shut him down fast. “Sorry. Not interested.”

  “Nah.” He wiped his hand slowly from the crown of his head down to his brow, smoothing his blond hair. “The new style makes me look that different?” He turned slightly. “How about now? No? You’re hurting my feelings here.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t recognize you because I don’t know you.”

  “Yeah-you-do.” He ran the sentence together into one word. “Can I get a little more sugar for my coffee?”

  And then I remembered. “The construction crew across from the diner.” Usually I was the one hovering over him, not the other way around. He looked incomplete without the slicked-back hair and layer of grime, and he was missing his posse, but I should have recognized him.

  Now that I was no longer a bounty hunter, I didn’t need to be hyper-observant all the time, didn’t need to constantly memorize and catalog everything. Still, it was disconcerting to see just how fast my superpowers were deteriorating. Use it or lose it.

  “Yep,” he said. His eyes turned brighter. “You by yourself?” He moved closer—or maybe he was just that tipsy and unbalanced.

  “I am.” I took a sip of my drink and scanned the room, not caring if I was being rude. He wasn’t exactly a great tipper, but then again, none of my customers were. Not that I blamed them; I was a mediocre waitress, and apparently the sluttiness of the uniform didn’t make up for the uninspired service.

  “You wanna…” He paused, some part of his alcohol-logged mind beginning to suspect I wasn’t interested. But like millions of drunk men before him, he didn’t see it as a reason not to try anyway. “You get me hot. Wanna get outta here?”

  Classy. “No, but thanks.”

  “You’re wasting your time,” a man’s brusque voice said. “This one only spreads her legs for murderers.”

  I froze, my blood turning leaden in my veins even though I knew Henry wouldn’t hurt me in front of all these witnesses. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if his threats were actual warnings or if he just wanted to scare me. If the latter, they were working.

  I sighed theatrically to hide my sudden panic and looked up at the construction worker, willing him to stay, to make himself comfortable.

&nb
sp; “Nature calls.” He held up his hands and lurched away, leaving me alone with Henry. His sandy brown hair was combed back, allowing the bar lights to turn his hawkish face sinister. He wore tight black jeans and a brown turtleneck that showed he’d been putting in time at the gym.

  “What do you want?” I snapped, channeling my fear into anger.

  Henry set a beer bottle on the table, too close to my glass. He bared exceptionally white teeth in what was probably supposed to be a smile. “Can’t a man have a drink with a pretty girl?”

  Someone watching might have assumed Henry and I were old friends, or perhaps that we had some sort of a love/hate relationship. It was hate/hate, of the “burning with the intensity of a thousand suns” variety. The kind that launched wars, or at least multigenerational family feuds. I wondered which of us despised the other more. From Henry’s point of view, I had lied and exploited our friendship to get information to keep a murderer with a two-million-dollar bounty out of prison.

  From my point of view, Henry, in addition to being a creep, had weaseled his way into my family’s bounty-hunting business. He was the reason I’d had a hand in a man’s death (though he didn’t have proof that Zachary was dead). He’d tried to have me arrested. Admittedly, my association with Corbin was a legitimate reason for the authorities to want to speak with me, but Henry hadn’t known about that until after. Plus I’d had to throw away my only link to Corbin to get Henry off my back.

  I had been a faithless friend, but Henry had fucked up my life. I smiled. Not such a difficult math problem after all. “I hate you more than you hate me,” I said.

  “Sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, we’re way past the point where therapy would help. Darling.” Henry’s brown eyes narrowed maliciously as he leaned on my table. In the uncertain light of the bar, he looked even younger than usual. I was starting to think he was part vampire—and not the sexy kind who used buckets of hair gel and ran shirtless through books and movies. Henry as a bloodsucking demon… it said a lot about his personality, too.

  But I wasn’t going to let him run me off. I sipped my drink and tried to pretend he wasn’t there. After weeks of him and his goons following me everywhere, it was a skill I was desperately trying to perfect.

  “At the risk of giving you a sleepless night, I thought I’d share a little information,” he said. He almost sounded like he meant it. “You’ll be going down to the station tomorrow afternoon to answer a few questions.” He leaned in, too close. His gaze drifted slowly to my lips, making me itch all over.

  “Whatever.” To mask my sudden trembling, I grabbed my drink and took a deep sip.

  “I asked them to hold off until the afternoon because I don’t want to deprive honest, hardworking men of the sight of your ass in that flouncy little waitress skirt. And we both know you need the hours.” A malicious smile contorted his mouth.

  “Considerate of you. And thanks for reminding me that I have work tomorrow. It’s past my bedtime.” I stood, then reached for my glass at the last second and finished the watery drink.

  Henry grabbed my wrist. “This all goes away if you give us Lagos. It’ll be better for your brother, too.”

  My stomach knotted. There it was. I was surprised it had taken him so long to threaten Rob. Instead of going upside Henry’s head with my empty glass, I thunked it on the table.

  “I do not know where Corbin is,” I pronounced loudly and precisely. “I have not seen or heard from him since the day he kicked your ass. How’s your arm, anyway?” I stared down at his fingers clamped around my forearm.

  He dug into my skin. “Keep playing, little girl. You’re going to end up hurt, or worse.”

  My heart kicked faster. “Your grip feels weak. Is that what’s making you so crabby? I would buy you a blowup doll, but as you pointed out, I’m broke.”

  Wrenching away from him, I wiped my damp, sticky palms on my jeans and plunged into the crowd.

  It would be inaccurate to say Henry didn’t follow, because he was now my constant shadow. But at least he kept his distance.

  ~~~

  Rob’s condo sat dark and still. So did the other units. Seemed like everyone was out having a good time. My heart sank a little. Even if I couldn’t talk to Rob about why I was so desperate to avoid being taken in for questioning, it would have done me good to have him nearby.

  I wondered why I was back on the investigators’ radar, if it had something to do with Zachary, or Corbin, or something else entirely. Whatever the reason, it couldn’t be good.

  I unlocked the front door and turned to glare at Henry, parked under an enormous oak tree. I hoped one of the boughs would break off and land on his skull, although the car he was in belonged to Stroop Finders. There hadn’t been company cars when I worked there. I doubled down on my wish and slammed the door behind me.

  Rob’s condo covered three floors. The first was the entryway and the garage. A second doorway led to steps that accessed the units above Rob’s.

  I untied my boots and walked up to the second floor. The kitchen was through the small and seldom-used dining room on my left. To my right was the largest room in the condo by far, the living room. Despite its small size, Rob’s place wasn’t bad. Clean lines, bright during daylight hours. With piles of unopened mail on the dining room table and recycling piling up, it wasn’t the neatest of homes, but it was still pretty nice.

  Rob had dropped a lot of money on furniture, including a state-of-the-art entertainment system, and he had a cable package that meant I spent more time trying to decide what I wanted to watch than actually watching anything.

  The third floor was two small bedrooms and the single bathroom. Rob was lucky to have the bottom unit. There were two people above him, one on each floor. I’d never been up there, but Rob said they were studios, which made sense. The owners with lower-level units also had better access to the back yards.

  I peeked out the living room window and scowled at the sight of Henry sitting across the street.

  Why wouldn’t he go away?

  At least I wasn’t about to walk in on him rifling through my things again. It had only happened once, a few days after I came to stay with Rob, but it had made an impression.

  Our father was still recovering from his heart attack and extensive surgery of two months earlier, and then he’d had a small stroke. Dad hadn’t finished transferring ownership of the company before all that happened, and it sounded to me like things were chaotic. Rob hadn’t been in a position to deny Henry’s request to come over for “a friendly chat” about the future of Stroop Finders. Then Henry kept drinking glass after glass of water and, of course, wanted to use the bathroom often. He’d told Rob he was doing a detox cleanse. I came home and surprised Henry on his knees next to my bed, his entire right arm swallowed between my mattress and box spring, his face creased in furious determination as he rooted around. Like I had hidden Corbin under my mattress.

  I screamed so loudly that my throat was raw for two days.

  The incident added a whole new dimension to my nightmares. I’d dream about Zachary’s death, then I would wake up to Henry hovering over me, then I would wake up to the worst nightmare of all—my arms flailing in the cold, empty sheets, desperately grabbing for Corbin, who wasn’t there. And that nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

  No, I didn’t want to be home alone. But that was how it was.

  I trudged up to my tiny, not-so-temporary bedroom. It faced the street, and I glanced outside to see if my wish had been granted. It had not.

  I pulled off my shirt and tossed it onto the small bed. Except for the white walls and the wooden desk and bed frame, everything in the room was some shade of yellow. Even the carpet, technically mauve, seemed yellow-tinted. I continued to undress, intending to wash away the cigarette smoke and the slime of Henry’s angry leers. My shift at the diner started at 4:30—yes, in the morning—and I was usually so groggy that getting my socks onto the correct limbs was a challenge; morning rituals and hygiene were far beyond
my ability at that hour.

  But instead of showering I found myself booting up my ancient computer, my fingers drumming impatiently on the small desk until the webpage loaded.

  There he was, topping the Most Wanted list. Corbin Lagos. I stared longingly at the grainy photo, wanting to brush his dark hair away from his face, to kiss and lick every inch of his broad jaw and full lips. The familiar wrenching, sick feeling twisted through my gut. Our time together had been intense, but too brief. And I couldn’t get over him.

  It had been over eight weeks since Corbin had left with a promise to return to me. I had no idea where he’d gone, but I knew his assignment was particularly dangerous. Not because he’d said so, but I could tell by how somber he’d been whenever it came up. He should have been back a month ago, and in fact around that time, he had returned. I hadn’t seen or heard from him, but who else could have gotten my bogus arrest warrant reversed? Who else even cared? Plus the timing was too perfect.

  But there hadn’t been any sign of him since then.

  If Corbin were out of commission, if he’d been killed or arrested and his organization had decided to leave him twisting in the wind, someone ambitious would have updated the Most Wanted list. Corbin’s wasn’t the only name that seemed to have taken up permanent residence there.

  One final, though smaller, bit of proof that he was fine: the gas card I had found in Corbin’s SUV still worked. Someone was paying the bill.

  Plus, I just knew. I felt it in my gut. Corbin was out there.

  I blinked until the sudden stinging in my eyes lessened. To say that I missed Corbin was an understatement. I had been through so much since meeting him, most of it rather horrible. But Corbin himself? He was…

  I shook my head, but the image of his amused, electric blue-green eyes wouldn’t waver. He was every bit as vivid as if I’d seen him that morning.