by Nikki Duncan
His tension eased a little more, encouraging her to keep going.
“You’ve dealt with a lot of nasty shit, and you’re entitled to think whatever you want to think. Know this though.” Standing, she limped to him and rested her hands on his in the hope he wouldn’t tense back up or retreat. “My feelings for you have nothing to do with guilt or scars. You’re also funny and charming, sweet and caring, and sexy as hell.”
His throat bobbed in a swallow. His gaze searched her face before finally locking on her eyes. “You’re serious.”
He swallowed again and she decided to let him off the hook. Using his crossed arms as leverage, she leaned up and kissed his whiskered chin. “More than words can describe.”
“I’m not sure I know what to do with that.”
“Take some time to let it sink in. Maybe then you’ll allow yourself to believe it.” It hurt that he didn’t respond with I love you too, but the circumstances dulled the sharpness. If he could believe it he might grow to feel it. If he could feel it he might be able to say it. She could wait for that day, because when that day became the present it would be the greatest gift.
They may not be able to stop the news story, but looking at Logan, who smiled despite the frustration that had him finger-combing his hair every couple minutes, Delancey returned to an earlier idea.
Leaning back in the chair, she thought more about it and the odds that Logan would really do it.
She chose clothes because of her scars, so she understood his reserve about going out. She understood the need to hide what made people uncomfortable. “I have an idea.”
He eased back and stared at Delancey. “Really?”
“Dinner. Out.” She pointed at the plates neither of them had touched. “We haven’t eaten.”
She’d never seen more fear on a person’s face than on Logan’s in the moment when he thought about going out. The idea of changing clothes at the station, of maybe being caught with her shirt off by one of the guys, had turned her gut to stone more than once. Only Logan made her feel brave enough to bare her skin.
“You could wear your hat.” She played with his slightly too long hair. “Though, sexy as you look in it, I like you better without it.” She ran her fingers along his jaw. “And I really do like the whiskers more than I thought possible.”
“It helps hide the scars. As for the hat, you’d look good in it.” Logan nodded toward the bedroom and winked. “Let’s go try it out.”
As usual, he made her smile when she didn’t think there’d be a reason to. And he tempted her to follow him to the bedroom. “Let’s do both. Dinner at Egg Drop Haven and then dessert in bed.”
“Dessert’s always been my favorite part.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “We could skip dinner all together.”
She nodded toward the front door. “I’m not letting you chicken out.”
“You trying to make me change my mind about you?”
“Yes. I want you to hate me.” She’d said the same thing to people she’d helped through therapy. It always disarmed them long enough for her to determine the next move.
“Don’t ever try to negotiate a hostage situation.”
“Why? I’m very persuasive when I want to be.”
“Men in emotionally charged situations don’t like being told what to do. You’d probably tell the bomb-wielding maniac to commit to his cause or life’s purpose and be done already.”
“I would not.” She rested her hands at his waist, moving her fingers rhythmically over his stomach. “But you’ll go to dinner with me, won’t you?”
“Doesn’t make me like it.”
“Maybe the owner will be there and you can ask if he knows anyone with the tattoo Ashley saw? Either way, I’ll make it worth your while,” she promised with a kiss. Taking his hand, she led him toward the living room.
Her ankle had stiffened up, making her limp more. Logan pulled his hand from hers and wrapped his arm around her waist. The relief was instant, which irritated her because she wanted to keep the focus off herself and on the mystery of Ashley’s killer.
In the living room, Logan grabbed Delancey’s keys and phone and his wallet from the entryway table and her crutch from beside that.
She nodded toward the crutch. “You saying I can’t lean on you?”
“We’re a little early in our relationship for me to help you go to the bathroom. The crutch goes so you don’t do more damage to your ankle.”
She hated the weakness, however temporary, and the idea that it could keep her from work. “Killjoy.”
“Says the queen.” He jingled her key and looked at her ankle. “You want me to drive? I’ve been cleared.”
Relinquishing control wasn’t something she was good at, but driving hadn’t been easy with her foot and shoulder, so she gave trusting him a shot. “Sure.”
“Is it wrong that I’m enjoying the fact you’re dealing with your own share of misery at the moment?”
“Yes, especially if that makes me Misery’s Mistress.”
“You’re pretty low maintenance as far as mistresses go.”
“Have much experience with mistresses?” Delancey was chuckling when he helped her into the Jeep.
“Nah. They’d be more hassle than they’re worth. As long as you put out once every couple weeks.”
“Talk about low maintenance.”
“It’s more than I’m used to.”
She laughed again and settled in for the short ride to the restaurant. The closer they got the heavier the air hung with hopes and expectations. In the parking lot, Logan stared at the building.
“What do you say to a car picnic and just watching the restaurant to see if we see the guy?”
“I’d say that seems cowardly. You’re not a coward.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Do you ever wonder if there was one thing you were meant to be or do with your life?” Logan asked as he and Delancey shared a dessert sampler plate and he tried not to think about the people looking at him, or about the man who hadn’t yet made an appearance.
“It’s an idea I’ve played with.”
“When you switched careers?”
“Before. When you’re a dark shadow on the family from the moment of your birth, you occasionally find yourself contemplating your purpose and whether you really belong. Or you turn to sex, drugs or alcohol. Or some combination of. Contemplations seemed safer.”
They’d sat on the same side of the booth so their backs were to the wall and they could both watch the restaurant. He was realizing that while sitting beside her made it more difficult to look in her eyes, the trade-off was that he got to feel the shifts in her body.
When they joked, an air of weightlessness danced around her, heightening the sweetness of her scent. When they grew more serious, like now, that weightlessness became shaded with seriousness.
Seriousness prevailed for the moment.
“My Uncle Dave had that drugs-and-alcohol act down, but I think it was because he regretted taking us in rather than thinking he was meant for more. He barely wanted to be an uncle, let alone a parent to two teens with broken hearts.”
“I used to tell myself my mom wasn’t really my mom. It was my way of explaining why I didn’t fit the mold of my family.”
She’d given him the rough sketch of her family. Her father, she’d said, was a nice enough man she’d barely known because he worked too many hours in a demanding job to pay for the social lifestyle her mother demanded. Her mother… Well, he’d met her mother and little else needed to be said.
Her three brothers, all younger than her, had been dutiful robots who followed in their father’s footsteps of attending the proper college, getting a proper job and marrying a proper woman to keep their social legacy alive in a proper fashion.
He liked that Delancey wasn’t quite proper.
“You fit with Andy.” They were like two parts of a whole and the fact that they adored each other had been obvious when they’d all played pool together.
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“Whose mother is an even darker shadow than I am on the Winston name.”
“Wow. You’re clearly a major loser,” he deadpanned. “What could she possibly have done?”
Delancey bumped her shoulder against his arm and smiled at his sarcasm. The weightlessness didn’t completely return but her seriousness lessened. “Aunt Vicky did the unforgivable. She got pregnant in high school, gave the baby up, didn’t go to college, married a blue-collar man, had another kid, got a divorce and works as a dispatcher for the city.”
“In your family’s eyes she’s piled shame on top of shame, right?”
“You guessed it. I know it hurts her that her parents never spoke to her again and my father barely tolerated her at the rare family gathering she was invited to, but she embraces the life she’s built. She’s happy. I can only pray to be as strong as her.”
“You love her.” In a way she didn’t love her own mother.
It was a love that banished the darkness and lit Delancey up.
It was a love he had the faintest memory of from his own parents.
It was a love that motivated greatness of spirit.
“I adore her. She and Andy were included in a couple of summer vacations when we were kids, I was maybe thirteen. I spent both vacations pretending she was my mom and Andy was my brother. I’d convinced myself I would be going home with them, but like all dreams that one came to an end, too.”
“We all want to feel like we fit in.”
“For all the good it does. I voiced my opinion to Mother and Father. Aunt Vicky and Andy were never invited to another family event. It wasn’t until I was old enough to seek her and Andy out on my own that I reconnected with them.”
“I hope I get to meet this aunt of yours. She sounds amazing.”
Delancey pulled back and stared up at him with wide eyes and her lips slightly parted. “You’re asking to meet my family?”
“I guess I am, but only the good part.” He played with her hair and smiled. She made him smile a lot; he loved that about her.
“Any time you’re ready.”
Her voice was little more than a croaking whisper. Her chin shook and though her eyes were dry he’d swear she was on the verge of tears. The impact of her reaction echoed through him and knocked the room sideways for a moment.
He hadn’t said he loved her, but he’d just asked if he could meet the woman she loved more than her own mother. It was a statement that indicated he saw himself in a relationship with Delancey for the foreseeable future.
That was a thought that should fill him with fear, because she had a dangerous job that would keep him from ever being fully relaxed when she was at work. Then again, it was her job that had brought her into his life. It was a job that seemed to make her very happy, and he couldn’t begrudge her a moment’s happiness any more than he could picture his life without her.
“Logan.” She rested her hand on his stomach and poked lightly.
“What?” He blinked himself out of his trance. “I’m fine. It’s good.”
“No.” She rolled her eyes toward the front door. “I think that’s the guy from the video.”
Not caring about subtlety, he looked directly to the entrance. There, behind the front counter, stood the man from the video. A small dragon with its wings outstretched was tattooed on his neck. The arsonist. The man his sister had identified as her killer.
No, he was not good.
Logan’s blood rushed to his head, snapping a tingling life into every hair follicle until his head and face itched. His hands shook and his jaw clenched.
If Delancey wasn’t on the outside of the booth with her foot propped on a chair, he’d have bolted out and across the room. She obviously sensed his need to be out, because she rested a hand on his leg and massaged his trembling thigh.
“Excuse me, Mae,” she said to their waitress walking by.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That man behind the front desk looks familiar. Who is he?” Delancey’s smile was casually curious, and had the waitress answering without hesitation.
“That’s our owner’s son, Jiao-long. Everyone calls him Little Dragon.”
“Hmm.” Delancey shook her head. “Maybe I don’t know him. He just looks so familiar.”
“He spends most of his time at their antiques store in Old Town. Maybe you know him from there.”
Delancey nodded. “My mother does love antiques. That must be it. Thank you.”
Delancey was gathering information without putting them in jeopardy, which was smart. If Logan sat there much longer, he wouldn’t care about being smart. He’d care only about releasing every moment of pain and misery and every ounce of loss on the man.
“Could we get our check?” Logan asked as calmly as his voice would allow. He wasn’t sure he sounded casual.
“Absolutely.” Mae reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a folder with several tickets. After handing them theirs she wished them a good night and walked away.
Logan pulled cash out of his wallet and dropped it on the table. Walking out without confronting the man was possibly harder than anything he’d dealt with during his recovery. He did it though because he refused to jeopardize the truth. He refused to do anything that allowed Ashley’s killer to go free.
The moment they were in the car, Delancey pulled out her phone and called Detective Holley.
With Holley’s assurances that they would check into Jiao-long, Logan turned the car on and headed home. Surprisingly, he felt lighter, like a weight of dread had been lifted from his shoulders.
He wanted to find all the answers behind why Ashley had been killed, but he also felt like he’d done enough for one night. The cops and Schneider could do their jobs and connect Jiao-long to Ashley and the fire. He needed something different. Something bright.
Logan shook his head. “I seem to recall you made a certain promise.”
Delancey’s mouth curled slowly into a grin. “We ate dessert already.”
“I could eat again,” he said, trailing a finger along her neck. Since seeing the man Ashley had identified as her killer, and stepping away, he had some extra energy to burn. Delancey had a gift for burning energy.
Evil in all the best ways, she reached across the console and ran her hand up the inside of his leg and across his crotch. His dick, already hard, jerked against her palm. She was grinning wildly when she turned her hand and pulled the waist of his sweats down.
His foot slipped off the gas pedal. His hands jerked on the wheel, yanking the Jeep into the next lane for a moment. He righted the Jeep with one hand and covered her hand with the other. “As much as I don’t want you to stop, I want to take another ambulance ride even less.”
“Pull over, we can have the best of both worlds.”
“Sure, until the cops arrest us for indecent exposure on Main Street.” He was laughing when he pulled her hand out of his pants. “Try to behave until we get home.”
Home. He’d struggled to think of his house as home since losing Ashley, but he said the word as if wherever he and Delancey were, as long as they were together, was home.
“Because she’s your home now,” Ashley whispered in his ear.
He glanced in the rearview, half expecting to see his sister watching him and Delancey. It was empty. She’d only been in his head, which was only slightly less creepy than if she’d been in the backseat.
“You bring out the rebel in me, Logan. My family will hate you for it.”
He laughed again and turned into the main entrance to his division. “That’s not reason enough to crash because you’re giving me a hand job.”
“Who says it was going to stop at a hand job?” she asked with an innocent smile and a bat of her eyes.
His dick throbbed at the idea of her lips wrapped around him. He tightened his hands on the wheel and focused on keeping the car in his lane. An image of Delancey wearing his fedora as she knelt before him came from nowhere and had him dreaming of ways to make i
t come true.
He swallowed and pressed the accelerator farther to the floor. He took corners a little faster than was entirely safe and jerked to a stop in the driveway. They were both out of the car and moving to the front door almost before he’d shut off the engine.
In the house, he locked the door and sat the keys and his wallet on the table. She dropped her crutch on the floor. Then, with her gaze locked on his, she walked backward to his room, removing one piece of clothing at a time on the way.
He followed, removing his own shoes and clothes.
Delancey turned into his room and plucked the fedora off his dresser.
“You’re reading my mind.” Logan reached for her, but she backed away.
With a fancy roll of her fingers, she put it on and tilted the hat at a slight angle.
“I don’t have a habit of thinking of men when you’re naked,” Logan said, “but that move was very Neil Caffrey.”
She chuckled. “I studied him, but you don’t get to think about Matt Bomer during sex anymore. It just wouldn’t be right.” She cocked a brow as she stepped up to stand right in front of him. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I can admire a move without wanting the man.”
“Good to know.” She kissed his shoulder, his chest and his stomach as she lowered herself to her knees before him. The fedora brim brushed his body when she moved close. She only moved close enough for her breath, warm and arousing, to tease him.
Back and forth, she moved her head, changing the force of the breaths she blew across him. She flattened her hands on his pelvis and slid them down, dipping her thumbs between his legs and teasing his balls.
The urgency that had filled the Jeep swirled into the room, sweeping him into a frenzy until his body pulsed with the need to be buried inside her. He dropped his hands to her shoulders and then slid them up her neck and into the hair that fell around her shoulders.
Delancey moaned and shifted her hands, caressing his balls more directly, while she flicked her tongue back and forth across the tip of his dick. He dropped his head and watched her.
