by Tara Thomas
“You ask that as if to imply I’m willing to be taken off the market.”
“Aren’t you? I mean you’re probably considered American royalty. Isn’t it your job to produce an heir or two?” she asked in a joking, lighthearted manner. Yes, she wanted to know, but couldn’t they discuss something with a touch of levity? Sometimes it felt like everything they discussed was shrouded in darkness and shadows.
He laughed. The abrupt change in the conversational tone had worked. “I suppose it is, but fortunately, I have two younger brothers and one is married and the other engaged. I don’t think producing an heir or two will be problematic for either couple.”
“Leaving you as the perpetual bachelor?”
“I did want to settle down once,” he talked with a faraway look and an expression that was heartbreakingly transparent. “I was a freshman in college and fell madly in love. I know it sounds too young, but I’d never felt that way before her or after.”
Something in his voice made her heart hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to track this woman down and ask her what the hell she’d done to Kipling. “What happened?”
“I thought I was in love and when she started asking for money, I gave and gave because I felt like it was my duty to take care of her. Hell, I brought her home to meet my family. They tried to warn me and I refused to listen. Eventually, though, it became too much. When I stopped paying her bills, she got ugly. Talk mostly. But the gossip eventually made its way here. When I went home the next weekend, Dad called me into his office as soon as I arrived. Our family lawyer, Derrick, was there, and he and Dad discussed filing a libel suit. I begged him not to that. The way I saw it, it was only talk and a suit would totally devastate her: financially, socially, you name it. I couldn’t do that to her. Derrick ended up sending her a letter and everything stopped after that.”
Alyssa nodded. “Let me guess. She told you that if you loved her you’d do it. That’s what all the best manipulators say. It doesn’t even matter what ‘it’ is. They’re just using it to mess with your mind. Their only real goal is to get you to do what they want you to do. It has nothing to do with love. Real love doesn’t make ultimatums or demand proof.”
“What was his ‘it’?” Kipling asked with the relief of someone who’d just found a kindred spirit. “What did he want you to do?”
She could still hear Mac’s voice; still recalled his roundabout way of talking to her. “He wanted me to leave the police force.”
Kipling whistled low. “Wow.”
“He never came out and said it. He was much too passive-aggressive for that. But it was clear.” She closed her eyes in an attempt to shut out the pain and anger at what Mac had told Janie when he’d kidnapped her months ago, on the night he died. Janie had been tied up and had wondered aloud how deeply Alyssa had been involved in Mac’s plans.
Janie hadn’t wanted to tell her at first, but Alyssa insisted.
“She’s much too weak to be involved,” he’d told Janie. “Like all women. She couldn’t handle it. Women are good for one thing and it’s not what they have between their ears.”
“Yup,” Janie said. “I’m beginning to see why she always put off marrying you. That’s disgusting. Tell me, is she aware of your view on womanhood?”
“Of course not. I’m not an idiot. I was planning to wait until our honeymoon before telling her she had to quit the police force.”
She shivered. “Something in me knew not to marry him. At least I did something right.”
“You’ve done a lot of things right,” Kipling assured her. “I can’t believe he felt that way knowing how good you are at your job and knowing about your sister.”
She jerked her head up. “That’s because he didn’t know about my sister.”
“That you had one or that she was murdered?”
“Either. He didn’t know I had a sister, much less that she was killed.”
Kipling didn’t say anything even though the question stayed there in the room with them: You told me about your sister and not your boyfriend of three years?
He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know about you, but my situation fucked me up. To this day, I rarely allow myself to see or go out with the same woman twice.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Present company excluded,” he clarified.
“Why is that?”
“Damned if I know.”
“Probably because we’re not going out.”
“I don’t think that’s it. I must feel safe around you.” His eyes grew dark. “Though why that is, I’m not sure. Safe is definitely not the first word I think of when I’m around you. Not from the very first time I saw you.” He shifted closer to her. “It was that day in Tilly’s apartment. Do you remember? You were there with your partner.”
He was so close, she could feel the heat from his body and every so often she would catch a hint of the soap he washed with. Cedar with a hint of pine and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. God, he smelled so good. She had the sudden urge to taste him.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he said.
“Damn it, did I say that out loud?” she asked. “It must be the wine. I’m usually in better control of myself.”
“Note to self,” he said. “Keep wine away from Alyssa.”
She snorted. “Most guys would pour me more.”
“I’ve seen far too many men take inappropriate liberties with women. I refuse to do so.”
There was still a touch of sadness in his voice when he spoke, and she wished she knew how to make that sadness go away. She lifted a hand and lightly brushed his jaw, felt the stubble under her fingers. “You’re one of the good guys, Kipling Benedict. You can fool some people, but you can’t fool me. Under that gruff, take-no-prisoners exterior you show the world is a noble gentleman.”
He turned his face to softly brush his lips across the palm of her hand. “I’m happy you think so. Once upon a time, I may have believed you, but now I’m not so sure.”
The spot on her hand where he had kissed felt electrified and she fought the overwhelming urge to ask him to do it again. She focused on what he’d said. “That’s okay. You don’t have to believe me right now. It’s the truth and you can’t hide the truth, no matter if it’s good or bad. You’ll see it for yourself before too long.”
“Thank you. Listening to you, I almost believe it myself.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him and dropped her hand. It was clear he wasn’t going to kiss it again. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
He actually smiled and it looked real this time. “What an odd question. Would you prefer I be boorish and rude?”
“What I’d prefer is for you to kiss me. And not on the hand this time.”
A huge grin covered his face and she groaned.
“I can’t believe I said that out loud.” And whether it was the wine or that she was just damn tired of denying what she wanted, she said, “But I can’t deny the truth of it.”
He nodded. “Then the way I see it,” he said. “I can either pretend like I didn’t hear you or…” He scooted closer to her, maddeningly close, but not touching.
“Or?” she asked, shifting the last of the remaining distance between them, so close she felt certain he could see her shirt move with the pounding of her heart. So close to the side of his leg pressed against hers, and yet, it still wasn’t close enough.
He slowly raised his hand, all the while looking into her eyes, until he gently cupped her face. He stroked her cheek and she shivered in response. “Or this.”
Her eyes drifted closed as his lips came toward hers, and when they brushed hers so softly, she feared she imagined it. She put her arms around him and drew him in for a longer kiss.
The moment their lips touched for the second time, Kipling groaned low in his throat and tightened his embrace on her. She feared he’d be hesitant, that maybe he hadn’t wanted to kiss her, but any such thought was soon swept away as his lips crush
ed hers.
His fingers fisted in her hair, holding her to him as he parted her lips and his tongue brushed hers. His other hand drifted to her waist, locking her in place. It was an altogether possessive and controlling move and she wanted more. She ran her fingers down his back, ensuring that he felt her nails. His groan assured her he not only felt them, but he liked it. He deepened the kiss and shifted, allowing her to brush against his erection.
The sharp knock on the door made them both jump. She thought about telling him not to answer it, but he was already standing up.
“Damn it all to hell,” he muttered as he strode over to it. “What?” he asked, throwing the door open.
A uniformed man stood outside with a room service tray. “Room service,” the man said, stepping inside and placing the tray on a nearby table.
“Wait a minute,” Kipling said. “I didn’t order room service. Did you?” He looked at Alyssa.
Her heart began to pound. “No.”
She mentally calculated where her gun was and how long it’d take her to get it. She’d had it on when they arrived, but had taken it off before her shower. Which meant it was now sitting useless in her room. She could have cursed her stupidity.
Kipling jerked the order from the server. “This says room 1845. We’re room 1945.” He looked over to her and nodded. It was all okay, he was saying silently. Just a misunderstanding.
That being the case, she still wasn’t able to stop trembling even after the deliveryman apologized profusely and left. She walked with shaky legs into her adjourning room and strapped on her weapon, making sure it was loaded. They had been fortunate this time and she wasn’t going to be caught unprepared again.
She was seriously losing her touch. She’d been refusing to think about it, but now that it looked as if they might possibly find out who was responsible for her sister’s murder, she wondered if she was going to do what she had scarcely let herself imagine.
Quit the police department for good. When she’d quit to help Kipling, she’d always intended to go back.
But what if she didn’t?
It was a dream she only let herself contemplate at night, when she was all alone. That time when reality was shrouded in darkness and anything seemed possible. Those few precious moments when she danced between alertness and dreams, when she would allow herself to drift.
She’d always loved history, though she’d never given serious thought to what she’d do with a history degree. How could she when she’d decided at such a young age to become a cop? But at night, she’d allow herself to imagine the possibilities.
She could be a history teacher. Or do research. Maybe work in a museum. Or maybe she’d go even further and get a degree in archaeology. Go abroad. She would usually chuckle as she thought about becoming the next Indiana Jones.
But as she stood in the room, it hit her. After they solved the case, she wouldn’t have a reason to be around Kipling anymore. She looked to her side and her heart sank. No matter how passionately he’d kissed her only moments before, she would always have her sister’s death hanging over her. And even if she wanted to quit the force for good, she doubted she could. How else would she be able to help all those women and their families?
And as for Indiana Jones, though he always had a romance, it never seemed to work out. Either way it turned out, history or police, at the end of the day, she would still be alone.
Kipling hadn’t followed her into her room. She supposed he was giving her privacy. On one hand, it was probably a good thing the room service had been mistakenly delivered to his room because if it hadn’t, she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to pull away from him. Even now his presence in the next room seemed to pull at her.
* * *
Jade slowly opened her eyes to ensure she was alone. She breathed a sigh of relief that she was. At least for now. But that was the only good thing. She was still bound in a cell-like place she nicknamed Unknown.
She knew she was in serious trouble. For one, she was unable to get a read on The Gentleman. That had never been an issue before. He’d always been transparent in his emotions toward her, no matter what they were about. If he was angry, she knew that. And she stayed away from him. If he was planning revenge, or some other kind of coup, she would stay in the room and help him. If he was happy, she would pour the wine and join him.
Unfortunately, he was wearing a mask around her. She had no idea what to think. Not that she needed to be able to read his expression to know that she was in trouble. That much was obvious from the way he had tied her up.
Not only that, but she had no idea where they were. She thought she had known all the places where he would take people. Hell, she’d been to most of them. But the place she found herself at now was unlike any other she’d ever been to before with him. Every so often, the wind would blow a certain direction and she could smell the sea.
That in and of itself made no sense to her. The Gentleman didn’t own any beach property. She knew this for a fact because he let her keep his books. Unless, which seemed likely, he only gave her access to a few of them.
Right now she was in a very dark and damp shelter; perhaps she was even underground. For the moment, she was also alone. She had no way to keep time, but she thought he’d been gone for at least three hours. Which meant he would be returning soon.
As if she’d spoken him into existence, a door behind her opened. She knew it was him, but he didn’t say anything until he got closer.
“Your eldest brother is an idiot,” he said.
It was probably for the best to not reply to him. She kept her thoughts to herself.
The Gentleman, of course, was undeterred. “He has taken his girlfriend, that worthless police officer, out of the city, to a nearby hotel. Like I can’t find them.”
Kipling was dating Alyssa? She had always pictured him with a boring high-society chick, but the thought of him with Alyssa made her smile.
But as curious as she was about Kipling’s relationship with the police officer, it would have to wait. There were far more important things to find out.
“Thus far,” The Gentleman said, “he doesn’t seem overly concerned about you. He seems to have his hands full keeping the police officer out of trouble. But he’s not as smart as he thinks he is. I’ve just bugged his room.”
He sat down in front of her, and took his phone out of his pocket. “I didn’t place the bug myself, of course, too much risk of being recognized.” He sighed. “I’ve recently run into David. He was looking for work and, even though I said I wouldn’t bring anyone else on, I hired him. Hopefully, he doesn’t turn out to be a disappointment like you.”
Her mouth grew dry. David? She hadn’t thought about him in ages. When she was around ten, he started hanging around, until The Gentleman ran him off. He had been a street kid, an orphan influenced by a bad man, just like her. They’d understood each other, been friends long ago. If she had thought of him lately or wondered how he was doing, she would not have wanted him to hook up with The Gentleman.
The Gentleman seemed to be scrolling through his phone apps. “Here it is,” he said, finding what he was looking for. “Now the real test.”
He made a few adjustments on his phone, and before too long there was static. A few adjustments more, and she heard Kipling’s voice.
“Alyssa,” he was saying. “Wait.”
From further away came the sound of the police officer. “I’m sorry, Kipling. I shouldn’t have gotten distracted like that. It put us both in a bad spot.”
“If you’re expecting me to apologize, I’m not going do it.”
“Why would I expect you to apologize for something I asked for?”
Kipling didn’t respond and after a few seconds, they heard Alyssa again. “Look, it’s been a very busy day. A very trying day. I’m going to go to bed and try to get some sleep. You should do the same and we’ll get back to this tomorrow.”
There was only silence then and after a while The Gentleman put his
phone down. “Sounds as though we missed something between the two of them. Too bad, I think I’d have liked to hear whatever they were doing.”
The Gentleman got up and walked around the small space where she was being kept. Checking to ensure everything was secure and there was no way she could escape. Although why he bothered she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like she could go anywhere since he’d tied her up, making sure he told her as he did that this was one knot she’d never untie and, damn him to hell, it appeared he was right. She’d tried her best to do just that the night before, eventually falling asleep, pissed off and unsuccessful.
“Stop looking at me like I’m an idiot, girl,” he said. “I’m not about to do anything that would allow you to get away from me again. Especially considering what it took to get you back this last time.”
She decided not to acknowledge that with a response, either.
“You better hope that brother of yours decides quickly to turn his attention back to you instead of that police detective. Your time is limited. And if he doesn’t get his head back in the game again, it’ll be a lot more limited than you believe it might be. In my perfect world, all three of your siblings would come running and I could take them out all at the same time. But I’m fine with only killing Kipling for now. Once he’s gone, the other two will be easy to take out.”
CHAPTER 7
The next day Alyssa and Kipling worked separately. They didn’t leave the hotel rooms, but they kept the door between their suites open so they were within eyesight of each other. For his part, Kipling seemed to want to ignore, and not talk about, the kiss they shared the night before.
Alyssa eventually told herself she was being ridiculous. Even if Kipling seemed inclined to discuss it, what was there to say other than they shouldn’t do it again? The kiss had been eye-opening in more than one way. She still couldn’t get over how out of character it was for her to have forgotten her gun.
Suppose she and Kipling were dating, she honestly couldn’t see herself lasting very long with somebody who caused her to forget what she must be doing. It just wasn’t a good thing. Not to mention it was unsafe. If she was smart, she’d stop thinking about him, period.
