“Fuck,” he whispers, and I shift farther up on the bed so he can brace himself above me.
When his mouth claims mine again, this time his tongue slips inside. It’s like tiny pulses of heat flash between my legs, making me so sensitive.
His hard length presses against me, and I buck my hips up to let him know I need more.
I want to live in this moment for as long as possible and make everything outside disappear. All of the evil. All of the hate. I want it gone. I just want him.
But the moment is cut short so fast I don’t have time to realize what’s even happened.
Cold. That’s all I feel when he lifts himself off me abruptly.
I sit, and he stands, bringing his hands into prayer position, tapping them at his forehead.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” He curses beneath his breath as his hands drop back to his sides. “I’m trying to be a good guy here. For once in my fucking life.”
“Kissing me doesn’t make you a bad guy.”
He gives me a half smile and steps closer to the bed, and the proximity gives me hope that he’ll come back to me and relieve this pressure he’s built up inside me.
It physically hurts right now.
“You and I both know this would have led to a lot more than a make-out session.” He clears his throat, his cock still pressing hard against his jeans. “You’ve been drinking. How about we discuss this tomorrow?”
I rise before him, but he steps back as if he’s afraid he’ll lose control, and—shit—I want him to.
“I really need to get out of here.” There’s a definite grit to his voice. His face muscles are taut, his shoulders pinched back and tense.
But, damn it, maybe he’s right. I have been drinking, and I don’t trust my own judgment right now. And I should respect him for helping me acknowledge that.
“Good night.” The words roll off my tongue and take a second to reach him, because he doesn’t move.
Jesus, I want him to kiss me again.
I want his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my bare skin.
But . . .
His eyes flicker down for a brief moment at the swell of my breasts, the bra not hiding my desire. And then he gives a forced nod and leaves.
I wait for the door to close before I fall back onto the bed and cover my face, wondering how the hell I can feel so much for a man I barely know.
And how will I ever say goodbye to someone who seems to steal my every breath when we’re alone?
11
Cade
Fucking chills rush through my body. This woman is making me absolutely nuts.
My cell vibrates in my pocket as I cross the living room and head to my bedroom.
I assume it’s Jessica because it’s the burner phone. But when I check it, I’m surprised to see Corbin’s phone number on screen. I grumble before I answer it, knowing there’s only one way Corbin got a hold of this number.
“What did Jessica tell you?” She always liked Corbin better than me. Pretty much everyone likes my kid brother more. I’m the asshole. Maybe always will be.
“Man, what the hell did you get yourself into?” His voice is off, so I assume he’s been drinking. He’s in Sin City, after all.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” I shut my bedroom door so Gia can’t hear and then sink down on the bed. My elbows rest on my knees as I press a palm to my forehead. “You might want to stay in Vegas until this all blows over, though.” I’m trying to be optimistic and assume we’ll get this handled and fast. But who the hell really knows?
“You don’t have to ask me twice, but is this really for some chick you met last week?”
Gia’s pouty lips come to mind. “It’s complicated.”
“And the company? Are you seriously taking a break from work?”
“We have capable people there who can handle things.” I swallow, hoping I’m right.
“Shit, I know that, but it’s about damn time you do. When was the last time you took a vacation?”
I honestly don’t have a clue, not that I’d consider this to be leisurely time off. “Just hang tight in Vegas until you get word that it’s safe to come home. I assume you talked to Grace?”
“Yeah, she told me about the babies. We’re going to be uncles, man.”
“How much does she know about what I’m into?” How much did Jessica tell her?
“Grace doesn’t know a lot. But Noah will make sure she’s good.”
True.
“Well—” There’s a beep. I hold the phone out to see who’s calling. “I gotta go.”
“Yeah, okay. Be safe. Don’t die.” I can almost hear his smile through the phone. “It’s not every day I get to use your line.”
“Be safe, too.” I end the call and switch lines. “What’s up?”
“We have two problems,” Jessica says right off the bat.
A humorless half-laugh escapes me. “Only two?” Hell, I’d call that good news.
“Cade,” she bites my name out like it’s sour on her tongue.
“Well?”
“For one, Mya is in Brazil. And Jerry McAllister just walked into Rory’s club.”
I don’t know which fucking problem to tackle first. She could have at least given me a second to digest one before slamming the second at me. “Jerry. Like, our friend Jerry? Detective Jerry McAllister?”
“Yup.”
“You think he’s making some sort of bust?” That’d be too coincidental.
“He’s a homicide detective, so I don’t think so.” There’s a hiss over the line. “What exactly happened at the club last Friday when you guys went there?”
I think back to the night I met Gia, the night all of this started. “Corbin said Jerry picked the club out. And when I was talking with Gia, he got a private room with one of the dancers. He didn’t want to leave with us when I insisted, either.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t believe Jerry’s cheating.”
“I don’t, either.” I scratch at the base of my skull, trying to think. “Which means—”
“Which means Jerry’s not there for a lap dance tonight.”
“Given his line of work, he’d know the place is run by the mob.”
“So, maybe he purposely chose that place—”
“Because the man never stops working.” A fucking stone drops in my stomach at the realization there’s more to all of this than we anticipated. Jury is still out on whether that’s a good or bad thing.
“Can you ask Gia if she recognizes him? I’ll text you his picture.”
I glance at my closed door. I don’t want to wake her, especially after what happened between us tonight. “Yeah, I will. In the morning.”
“You, uh, don’t think he’s dirty, do you?” It’s one of the few times I can actually hear worry flowing through her words.
“Absolutely not.”
“It’d be nice to have him as an ally.” She’s silent for a moment, and I know what she’s thinking because I’m thinking the same thing. “He’d probably tell us to back down, though, so maybe we won’t say anything to him. Not right now, anyway.”
“Agreed.” I stand, prepared to hang up, but shit, there’s still more we have to talk about. “Tell me what you know about Mya.”
“Mya took a vacation all right, but to Rio de Janeiro. And this isn’t her first time. She’s been there twice in the last four weeks.”
“Fuck.”
“This can’t just be about breaking a story on Rory. If Mya’s in Brazil, there’s a hell of a lot more going on. I looked into her, and the woman is legit—like, she thinks she’s Lois Lane or something, always breaking stories on some heavy shit. Her dad probably has to send her on regular vacations.” She pauses. “So if you don’t get Gia to open up about it and soon, then—”
“She needs to trust me more, but I think she’s coming around.”
“We don’t have much time if we’re really going to try to wrap this up quick enough for you to get back
to your boring-ass job.”
“Give me a day or two. I’ll see what Gia’s been up to; hopefully, it can be useful somehow.” I place the phone on speaker and toss it on the bed. “Any movement on Rory’s people yet?” I take off my clothes, stripping down to my boxers.
“The plan worked. Well, for the most part. He dispatched two teams, one to our false lead in Austin and the other to Chicago.”
“So what’s the issue?”
“Gia’s dad is still in New York. You’d think he would have gone, too, right?”
“I don’t even know what to think anymore.”
She clears her throat. “Just get some rest tonight, and I’ll be in touch in the morning. And find out what Gia says about Jerry. I just texted you his photo.”
I look at my friend’s picture. Mid-forties, with a kid from a previous marriage and an amazing fiancée. A man I’ve always trusted.
There’s no way he’s dirty. No fucking way.
“’Night.” I end the call and shrug the stress from my shoulders. I’m not sure if I want to take a cold shower or sleep the night away.
I choose option two and get into bed, running through everything in my head. Each thought, image, and even certain smells are cataloged in various parts of my mind for easy access. Sometimes I wish I could be like other people—you know, normal. Normal people don’t remember absolutely everything.
But, then again, maybe I wouldn’t have remembered Gia.
And I know for damn sure that when this is all over—crazy memory or not—she’s not someone I’ll ever be able to forget.
* * *
“Were you talking to someone?” I ask after Gia comes into the living room.
I could have sworn I heard her speaking, but she’s staring at me like I’m certifiable.
“No.”
“Gia,” I rush her name out, knowing damn well she’s lying to me, and we don’t have time for that.
“I was mumbling to myself. You know, thinking about what might happen next.” She brushes past me, heading to the sitting area.
“Fine.” I force the doubt from my mind, saving it for later, and take in the sight of her. She looks okay. No apparent hangover, which is impressive.
Her skin has a glow to it, even. Her long hair is damp from a shower, and from where I’m standing, I can smell the lavender soap she must have used.
“Well, uh, how are you feeling? Stomach okay?”
She settles on the couch, wearing a pair of black jeans and a white, oversized sweater. “I’m so embarrassed I got sick in front of you.”
“It happens.” I shrug, but she blushes.
I reach into my jeans pocket for my phone and pull up Jerry’s picture. “Before we get going, Jessica needs your help.” I hand her the cell.
She zooms in on the image as I try to get a read on her. Her brows pinch inward, her lips pursing together in a tight line.
“He was at the club with me for his bachelor party. Have you seen him there before?”
Her chin lifts and her hazel eyes meet mine. “Yeah, I remember him.” She hands me back the phone and rises to her feet.
I cock my head. “And?”
“I’ve seen him with Tracey, maybe twice. She’s one of the dancers. But he’s normally with Rory.”
“Normally?”
She nods. “Yeah, but he usually comes to the casino, not the club.” She rolls her tongue over her teeth, and now she’s the one giving me a questioning look with raised brows, her eyes narrowed. “Who is he?”
“A friend. Also, a detective,” I grumble. “And I doubt he was questioning Rory, so unless he’s undercover—”
“He’s on Rory’s payroll.”
I don’t buy it, though. First, Mya’s father disappoints me by being a cheating ass. And now . . .
No. My straight-edge friend can’t be corrupt. Fuck that.
“I need to call Jessica. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help?” I’d like to bring up Mya and the art classes right now to get the conversation over with, but I don’t want to hit her with too much all at once.
A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “I know a lot about Rory, enough to put him away for three lifetimes, but anything I’d say would only put a target on our heads.”
“Isn’t there one already?”
“True, but I don’t exactly want to draw the attention of every criminal in New York quite yet. Snitches aren’t shown much love in the city.”
“I told you I’d keep you safe.” And I mean it, down to my last breath.
A knock on the door has Gia taking a step back.
“We’re ready to roll,” Owen says once I’ve let him in. “Miami, here we come.”
12
Cade
“A two-story view of the bay? You’re not using your credit card for this suite, are you? My dad could definitely track us that way.” She spins away from the window and faces me, her hands landing on her hips, sunlight pouring in behind her, making her look like an angel or something.
“This might be my first time on the run, but I’m not an idiot.” I tuck my hands in my pockets, continuing to study her, unable to stop myself from wondering how she’d look with the sun splashing over her naked body.
“What are you thinking about?” Her dark brows arch as she angles her head, observing me—maybe even reading my mind.
“Just hungry.” Damned if I couldn’t hide the deep huskiness of my voice when I said that.
“Me too, but do we have to eat in the room? Can we grab a bite at a restaurant in the hotel?” Her face lights a bit as she smiles. “I saw they have a rooftop bistro. I bet the views are even better than they are here.”
“That’s only one more level up.”
“True.” She faces the windows again. “But it’d be nice to eat outside and get some fresh air. Miami reminds me of home.”
I join her by the window. “Owen checked out the hotel and said we should be good.” We already updated Gia on the status of Rory’s men on the ride here. And for the rest of the trip, Owen regaled us with his “stories of adventure,” as Gia likes to call them.
She sighs and glances upstairs to where Owen’s room is. The water is running, so he’s probably in the shower. We’re all staying together this time since there are three rooms.
“Thank you. And I think I know what we should do after dinner tonight,” she says almost casually, despite the depth of thought in her eyes. Her tongue peeks out of her mouth like a delicious tease, and she rolls it over her lips.
“Gia,” I drag out her name.
“What? I was talking about fighting. Maybe we could kill some of our stress and tension by sparring. You could show me some moves. Teach me.”
“You want to spar with me?” I ask in surprise. She had brought it up the other day, but I didn’t think she was serious.
“I really do want to learn to protect myself. Don’t go getting any dirty ideas.”
Too late for that. The muscles in my torso tighten as I imagine her sweaty and pinned beneath me.
“How about I protect you so you never need to throw a punch?” I suggest.
“You won’t be around forever.”
She’s right, even if I don’t want to admit it. “Fine.” I hate surrendering. “You should be able to defend yourself when I’m gone.”
Triumph spreads across her face, and I rake my fingers through my hair. I need to knock this damn desire free from my body that’s taken hold since the day we met.
How many days now has it been since I’ve fucked?
Too. Damn. Many.
And having someone like Gia around me all of the time is like asking an alcoholic to hold a shot of whiskey.
She’s become my top-shelf brand, and I want to do a hell of a lot more than simply taste her. I want to—
“Thank you,” she says in a soft voice.
I nod. “Sure.” I start in the direction of my bedroom. “I’ll meet you back here in an hour, and we’ll head to dinner.”<
br />
“Cade?” At the sexy sound of my name on her tongue, I stop before my door. Why does she also have to have such a hot accent? And when she gets angry, it becomes more noticeable—and God, it goes right under my skin in an I-want-to-screw-you-until-the-sun-comes-up kind of way.
“What?”
“Everything will be okay, won’t it?”
She’s asking for reassurance. She’s asking for me to make her feel better. But right now, all I feel like is one more asshole in her life. Because I want to fuck her, regardless of what the hell is going on right now. And what kind of person does that make me?
A person like Rory.
Like my father?
“Yeah, everything will be okay,” I lie.
* * *
“Do you really think we can trust her?”
The server lifts my empty plate from the table, and I wait until she’s gone before answering. “Of course,” I say, because I don’t want him worrying about my own doubts or the weird conversation she was supposedly having with herself this morning.
“She’s the daughter of an assassin. Not just any killer, either. I looked the guy up. He was a beast when he was Irish Special Forces. I can only imagine how lethal he is now, without limitations. How is she not dirty, too?”
“Why the hell are you just now asking me this? You didn’t seem to have any issue when you were getting her drunk last night.”
Owen takes a swig of his soda. “And why do you think I was really liquoring her up? I was trying to get a read on her and see if she’d talk.”
I lean back in the chair and look over at Gia, who is resting by the pool. No one is swimming right now since the sun isn’t out and the temperature has dropped. Gia looks both classy and sexy in her sleeveless black top. Plus, the ass-hugging jeans are a bonus.
“And did you learn anything?”
“Yeah, that she’s dangerous.”
My Every Breath Page 9
