criminal, yes. A man, most definitely. Someone I can trust? I think so. At least trust with the mess I’m mixed into. My heart is a different matter.
I start at the beginning. Not just from a few days ago and what Terry told me. I tell Moon everything about Kennedy from the time I began working at the police department. Moon asks a few questions, turns the water off at one point, but mostly he allows me to tell the story uninterrupted.
When I finish, he’s silent until I can’t take it any longer.
“It’s possible I’ve created this entire scenario in my head and someone accidently ran me off the road and decided not to stick around. A drunk, maybe.” I don’t actually believe this.
“Alex called before I woke you up. Penny Dandridge is dead.”
I wrap my arms across my chest. It hurts my shoulder, but I don’t care. The pain actually reminds me that I’m alive. Moon holds me while I cry. I try to let go of the past. The past that says police are the good guys. I know some… no, most are. The muscle relaxer in my system has my emotions all over the board, and Moon continues to hold me while I sob uncontrollably. Penny, who was starting a new life, died because of me.
“No, baby, not because of you.”
I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud.
He holds me for a few more minutes before he speaks again. “We need to get out of the tub and get you tucked safely into bed. My men need this information, quickly. There are things going on right now that I can’t talk about. You’re safe here. Your car was towed to a garage and no one will find it. Kennedy will know, though. It might take a few days, but he’ll begin figuring things out when your car isn’t discovered. He’ll know that something went wrong. You’ll stay here until this is sorted out.”
Even with my foggy brain, I won’t allow Moon to tell me what to do. “I can talk to the police now. I didn’t know how far Kennedy or whoever hit me had driven. I knew they would have a dispatch radio and it was too dangerous to call them then. It’s different now and there’s no reason not to.”
Moon’s voice takes on a hardened quality. He doesn’t agree with my opinion and he makes that clear. “You need to understand a few things. I have cops on my payroll. It’s part of the fucked up world I live in. Even I don’t know who’s clean and who isn’t. It will take a few days to straighten out the details of who you can trust and who you can’t. The only way I can keep you safe is if you are here.”
I sit forward and turn a bit so I can look at Moon. I ignore my spinning head. “No one else will die because of me. You have a code of ethics that I can’t accept. I won’t be part of it.”
He grabs my arms at the elbows and his eyes drill mine. “It’s too late. You’re already a part of it. You’re injured and have had two concussions in less than a week. You need to heal and stay hidden until I know what’s happening. Penny Dandridge is dead, Madison. The next body will not be yours.”
I lower my eyes so he can’t see how angry I am. I’m sitting up, half twisted between his legs. I suddenly realize his erection is poking me. How could I miss it against my back? It’s huge and partially sticking out of the water. I go from pissed off to turned on. I don’t understand the sexual pull he has on me. It makes no sense.
He notices where I’m looking and his lips tilt into a semi-grin. “Come here, baby.” He pulls me against his chest so my breasts slide across his skin. “I told you you’re in no condition. You’re beautiful and some things can’t be controlled.”
I shouldn’t laugh. It’s the drugs—must be. “I guess it would be worse if this didn’t affect you,” I say with a giggle.
“Impossible. Stop moving and just rest here a little longer. I need to wash you up before we get out.”
I can easily wash myself. The thought of Moon’s hands sliding over my wet skin keeps me from offering. Again… drugs.
He’s proficient. Too proficient. No messing around while his hands do their job. A haze settles over me. I’m lethargic, though I’m awake. The pull of sleep is taking me under.
“You need rest,” he whispers as he splashes my back to remove the soap.
I do. I could sleep here lying on his chest for the next few days. When I’m better, maybe we can do much more than sleep. And I’m never taking drugs again. I sit up and refuse to look at Moon’s delectable abs. I’m afraid I’ll lean in and lick them. He’s incredibly cut, and I so want to see him during a workout with sweat sliding over each muscle. I store that fantasy.
“You with me?” he asks and his voice interrupts the naughty images. He unstops the drain and has me stand so he can dry me off. He wraps me in a large towel. “Walk or carry?” he questions.
“I can walk,” I reply sleepily. He doesn’t cover himself and it makes me uncomfortable, which is really stupid. My brain can’t focus on this for too long. Moon leads me to the now-made bed. My head is too foggy to care if it has new sheets. He swipes the thin comforter and top sheet aside so I can climb in.
“I’ll grab you a shirt,” he says after I’m resting back against the pillows. He walks naked into an area I can’t see. He has a sweet ass, and this thought makes me giggle groggily. I need to close my eyes. If I do, I’ll be asleep before he returns and that would be a shame. I don’t want to miss the front view.
I can’t help the disappointment I feel when he walks to the bed wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He has a large, white dress shirt in his hand. He slips my arm through one sleeve, partially sits me up, pulls the shirt behind me, and then finishes with my other arm. He’s so gentle that it doesn’t do more than cause a twinge to my shoulder.
“I don’t want to pull anything over your head, so this will do for now,” he says after he has buttoned all but the top two buttons. He situates a pillow behind my head and tosses the towel to the floor. “Your housekeeper must hate you.” My drugged words are slightly slurred.
“She loves me,” he replies. “Move over,” he helps me scoot toward the middle of the bed and lies down beside me. His hand rests on my stomach with his head next to mine. “Sleep, baby.”
“Don’t call me…” the world drifts away.
Chapter Fifteen
A TOUCH OF LIGHT is shining through the shutters when the top half of me is partially lifted and pills are placed at my lips. I’m awake enough to know that everything hurts.
“Drink,” Moon whispers in my ear.
I drink. A few minutes later, I drift off again. Moon wakes me up several times that I remember. My bladder is what wakes me this time. I need to pee, badly. Moon isn’t in bed and the area leading into the bathroom is dark. The shutters still block most of the sun, but I can tell it’s no longer morning. I stand up and wobble so much I place my hand on the bed for balance. I use the bed as a crutch and walk around it. Taking a breath, I stand straight to be sure I can. My back, arms, shoulder, and face ache. I guess it’s to be expected.
Moon’s bedroom is massive. It takes exactly eighteen steps to reach the bathroom. Three sinks are around the corner. I used one last night, or I guess it was very early this morning. The sinks are beautiful with custom faucets and dried flowers in beautifully decorated large urns. I barely noticed them last night. There’s a shower and the separate jetted tub. His bathroom is larger than my entire living room. I hold the wall as I walk into the small room with the toilet and do my business. I look into the mirror after washing my hands and try not to break down in tears. I have two black eyes, a black and blue nose, and a forehead that’s several colors in between. My nose is swollen and the damn thing hurts when I touch it. Note to self: Don’t touch nose. I suck in several breaths while rotating my shoulder. Sore I can handle, and I’m lucky that the pain is in the acceptable scale. Of one to ten, it’s a four. I lift the long dress shirt and see a bruise on my hip. It looks worse than it feels. If I take my entire body into account, I’m at about a five.
I return to the bedroom on steadier feet. My clothes are nowhere to be found, so I head to the closet. It’s massive just like everything else in the room. B
uilt-in cabinets separate his dress clothes from his casual attire. Even his ironed T-shirts are hung up. I don’t see a hamper for dirty laundry. I’m turning in a circle to decide what I should commandeer when Moon walks in so quietly I don’t hear him.
My heart skips a beat when he sighs. “You should be in bed. Doctor’s orders.” He’s so large and his quick stride in my direction makes me panic. I wrap my arms around my middle and take a step back. It’s usually hard to intimidate me, so I’m not sure why I’m reacting this way. At my retreat, he stops and places his hands in his pockets.
“You okay?” he asks in a gentler voice.
I would swear he tames lions for a living. He reads the small nuances of body language that most people miss. Is it because, like a cop, he lives on the edge? He’s about three feet away and his musky cologne drifts over me. I noticed the scent when I first entered the closet. I almost grabbed some of his clothes and buried my nose in them. With him so close, the fragrance is stronger, and I fill my lungs.
“Madison?”
I scramble for something to say. “I need clothes.” I also need to take control of this situation. It sucks that my defenses are completely down.
His voice lowers. “You need to be in bed recuperating. Let me help you.”
He’s giving me space and asking instead of demanding. I draw in a breath and exhale slowly to calm myself. I’m being ridiculous. I drop my gaze and notice the rolled up sleeves that display his forearms. His size alone is intimidating, but his casual stance says I won’t hurt you. I glance up and his eyes quiet my fear. They speak a thousand words—I came when you needed me. I won’t hurt you. Trust me.
How can I resist his eyes? “I…I’m sorry,” I stammer.
He steps closer and places his hands on my cheeks. They’re warm and non-threatening. He tilts my head back, and I remember how horrible I look. He leans in and kisses the top of my forehead at my hairline directly above the stitches. My stomach flip-flops. I fight not to grab the front of his shirt and hang on for dear life. He smells delicious, looks like a dark God, and I want to lick the pulse of his throat before I bite it.
Can he read my thoughts? He gives nothing away. The gentleness he shows me is at complete odds with what I know of him. What happened last night swirls through my head. I want to forget the bad things—being forced off the road, my vulnerability, Penny’s death. It’s too much right now.
“Come on, I’m putting you back to bed.” He hooks his arm around my back and guides me in that direction. I’m weak when I need to be strong. “Besides clothes, what do you need?” he asks while pulling the sheet over me.
I need answers about what happened to Penny. I need to grow a set of balls and insist on talking to the police. I need to place Moon back in the tidy little box that’s labeled, Criminal, don’t touch. Even after sleeping most of the day, I’m too tired to say any of these things. “Toothbrush, food, and a drink of water.” My eyes feel so heavy. My jumbled thoughts are exhausting me.
Moon reaches for the bedside phone, picks it up, and speaks to someone in Spanish. I watch dreamily as he walks away from the bed, enters the bathroom, and returns a few minutes later. He’s carrying a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a cup. He rests them on the nightstand beside the bed.
He helps me sit and places an extra pillow behind my back. After putting a small amount of toothpaste on the toothbrush, he hands it to me. I don’t look at him while I brush my teeth. He’s too close, and even though we shared a bath last night, this seems somehow more personal. I eventually look up and he hands me the cup to spit. After he takes the item back to the bathroom, he returns and nudges me over with his hip so he can sit.
He pushes my hair behind my shoulders. “How are you feeling?”
The words spill out before I can stop them. “Sore, ugly… dirty,” I add. So very, very dirty. My actions caused the death of an innocent person, and I’m lying in the bed of a criminal trying to keep my sexual thoughts at bay. If that isn’t dirty, I don’t know what is.
Moon rubs the back of his neck in agitation. His eyes go darker and his jaw tightens. “Sore is to be expected,” he finally says. “Gabriella will bring pain medicine with lunch.” His fingers glide up my arm, over my collarbone, and to my throat. I receive a ghost of a grin. “You’re beautiful even with two black eyes.” He stares at me for a long moment before continuing. “Dirty? Never,” he says softly. I want to believe him. His thumb skims my lower lip, and he stares into my eyes.
A snapshot of him running his soapy hands over my body forms in my mind and I blush. He leans in and touches his lips to mine. Short and sweet. He pulls away and I want more. He sits back and appraises me while I notice that his eyes have changed subtly. They’re darker and if possible, sexier.
“My hair is dirty,” I lie. “I need to wash it.” So stupid. I just can’t tell him that the dirt is in my soul.
Moon gives me an exasperated look. He doesn’t believe me, and I’m surprised when he allows my lie to pass. “Tomorrow, we’ll wash your hair. Carlo said you were to keep the sutures dry. We can most likely use the sink and not give him a reason to yell at me.”
I so badly want him to smile. It’s as if his smiles change me physically. After two knocks on the door, Moon stands and walks toward it. Before he reaches it, Gomez enters followed by an older woman. Her slightly stooped shoulders, gray hair, and small frame make her appear frail. Then I see her eyes. They’re dark, practically black. I can tell that she dislikes that I’m here. It’s more than evident by the angry look she throws me. She’s carrying a food tray and makes an unpleasant noise in her throat when Gomez walks over and kisses my cheek. He straightens and rolls his eyes at the woman’s obvious distress. I’m so surprised that he kissed me with Moon standing so close that I’m speechless. Gomez smiles and heat rises in my cheeks. He’s wearing a white dress shirt minus his suit jacket. A shoulder holster is strapped on his chest, which is something you don’t often see in Arizona. The only time I’ve seen one is when two detectives visited from back east. In the West, we carry our guns on our hips. It’s like the law.
Gomez gives me a sexy, killer smile when he sees my appraisal. The heat in my face goes up several degrees. The woman says something in Spanish, and Gomez turns and takes the tray from her. She removes a pitcher of water and what turns out to be my pills. She carries them toward the bed and rests them on the nightstand. She fills my nighttime glass with water, but she doesn’t hand these things to me. She gives them to Moon. She’s closer to me now and examines my face. I’m at a loss when she makes the sign of the cross on her chest while speaking rapid Spanish to Moon. He responds, and she shakes her head and crosses herself again. She throws up her hands, says something angrily, and then leaves the room.
Moon’s lips quirk and I almost get a smile. “Gabriella wants you to take your medicine, eat all your food, and rest so you can leave as soon as possible.”
“That bad?”
“She thinks you look like a raccoon. For Gabriella, that’s a compliment.”
I look toward Gomez, who is still holding the tray. His lips are compressed so he doesn’t laugh.
“I give raccoons a bad name, and she shouldn’t be insulting them,” I growl softly.
Gomez laughs outright and carries the tray closer.
Moon hands me the pills and water, which I swallow without argument. I’ve been through recuperation on my shoulder and learned to stay on top of the pain. Like most good lessons, I learned the hard way.
Moon removes an orange stoneware bowl from the tray. Whatever it is, it smells heavenly.
“Soup,” he informs me. “And crackers,” he adds.
I take a long draw from the water, emptying the glass. He hands me the bowl and then takes the entire tray from Gomez. He gives his friend a look that I can’t decipher.
“Thank you, Alex. I’ll be down when Madison finishes her lunch.”
Gomez nods and leaves the room without looking at me again.
“Eat,” Moon
commands.
“Yes, sir,” I clip back. This gains me not so much as a semi-grin. He’s so intense right now.
He places the tray next to my hip and picks up a cracker, nibbling it while I dig into the soup. “It’s good,” I say between bites. Nope, I will not watch his lips move over that cracker or think about licking the small crumb at the edge of his mouth.
The soup is absolutely delicious. I glance up and watch Moon lick the crumb from his lips. My inner thighs tingle. I’m banged up and not feeling well, and I still want to run my hands across the stubbly line of his jaw and lick his mouth.
“Albondigas,” he says. I have no idea what he’s talking about and give him a confused look. “The soup. It’s albondigas,” he offers.
Just his mouth saying the word “albondigas” is more than my over-sexed thoughts can handle. Soup dribbles from my chin, and before I can stop him, Moon wipes it with a napkin. He’s close, so close, and it makes me nervous. I want him so very badly. “I’ve heard of albondigas but never realized it was soup.”
He pulls away. “Such a white girl thing to say. You don’t speak Spanish either, do you?”
His eyes are mesmerizing. I swear the silver streaks come and go with his moods. “Only English. I took French in school and I can’t speak a word of it.”
“En outre, nous sommes des hommes, et après tout c'est notre affaire à risquer notre vie,” he recites in better French than my instructor used. Is there anything this man cannot do?
“I have no idea what you just said.” I’ve stopped eating, and I’m completely fixated on his mouth.
“It’s a quote from The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas. ‘Besides we are men, and after all it is our business to risk our lives.’ I enjoy his books.”
I’m caught off guard. He fucking quotes Dumas in French. “You read?”
And it happens. His head tilts back and he laughs. I can see his perfectly white teeth and the wide expanse of his neck. The reserve he controls so tightly is gone.
Heat: An Alpha Male Criminal Romance (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 1) Page 10
