Dangerous Lovers

by Becca Vincenza

  She laughed but pinned me with a serious gaze. “Promise me, Frankie.”

  “I promise,” I agreed.

  That seemed to make her feel better, her steps lighter as we walked toward the TV. I wondered what she would say if she knew the promise I made wasn’t the one she’d exactly asked for.

  I had no intention of staying away from Charming. I fully intended to find out what the hell he was up to. I just promised not to die while doing it.

  * * *

  It was after ten by the time Piper left for her apartment. She stayed later than she usually did, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she needed the company or if she was afraid that the minute she left I’d be up to no good.

  She was right, of course.

  The minute she left, I ran into my bedroom and ransacked the pile of black clothing lying on the floor. I pulled out a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved black T-shirt and quickly pulled them on. The clothes felt like a second skin against me. I checked myself out in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, leaning against my bedroom wall, and smiled with satisfaction.

  I wasn’t a girl that suffered from low self-esteem.

  I liked the way I looked and I worked hard to maintain the curves that shaped my body. I wasn’t fat, though by today’s standards (which basically said you should look like a stick with a head), some people probably thought I was, but I didn’t really care what those people thought. In my opinion, a woman should have a shape; she should be a body of swells and valleys. She should have something for a man to grab on to in bed—a solid form to hold on to in the night—not some twig that he couldn’t even find between the sheets.

  I stood at average height, 5’5”, and had a classic hourglass shape (just like Marilyn Monroe) with full hips that gave way to a waist that dipped in on each side and rose up to meet an ample chest and a strong set of shoulders. My thighs rubbed together when I walked and someone once compared my booty to an onion (he said it made a brother want to cry).

  I wore my golden-blond hair short (just past my chin), and I liked to style it in messy curls or waves that framed blue eyes and a creamy complexion.

  To finish off the body-hugging outfit, I pulled on a pair of high-heeled black boots and the black cap I’d found earlier. Cat Woman could eat her heart out. On my way out the door, I grabbed a black coat and my bag that contained the address I got illegally out of the DMV computer system. What? What’s the point in working at a job you hate if you can’t benefit from it sometimes?

  It took about forty-five minutes to get to his house. Of course he lived in some ritzy part of town. What was surprising and to my advantage was that his house sat apart from everyone else’s. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he would value privacy—I mean, he was a killer.

  The house was dark and instead of parking close to the yard, I turned around and went back the way I came, parking near a cluster of houses just down the road. Making sure there wasn’t anyone else lurking around (besides me), I walked the rest of the way to his property.

  I wasn’t about to knock on the door so I went around the side of the house, peaking into darkened windows and snooping through the bushes. The house was large, made of some kind of stone, and had a lot of wide windows. When I came around to the back, I noticed there was a light on in what appeared to be a family room with an adjoining kitchen.

  I tiptoed up onto the back deck, creeping closer to a nearby window. I pressed myself up against the side of the house and then stealthily peaked around and into the house. There was a really tall dining table with four leather chairs sitting in the center, acting as a divider between the spaces. On it was an open laptop and papers scattered all around.

  There was no one there. I heard no sounds, even after I stood there for a good ten minutes. No other lights went on or off. The back of the yard remained dark; not even a neighbor’s dog barked.

  Maybe he wasn’t home.

  I wanted to know what was written on all those papers.

  I pushed off the stone and stepped up to the French doors, pulling out a credit card from my coat pocket. Before I attempted to jimmy open the door with my plastic, I had a twinge of doubt… This guy was a Death Escort—an assassin. His house was probably wired to the max with some high-tech security to keep out the crazies.

  Then again… wasn’t he one of the crazies?

  Besides, Charming practically had a God complex. He probably hadn’t bothered with an alarm because he thought he was invincible.

  I snorted in amusement but then froze, afraid someone heard me.

  Seconds ticked by and no one yelled, “Hey, you!” or “Freeze!” so I figured I was good to go. I had the door open in seconds, grinning to myself about my expert use of a credit card as I slid it back into my pocket.

  The door closed soundlessly and I crept over to the table, my heart pounding so hard that I actually looked over my shoulder, thinking someone else was there.

  I was still alone.

  I reached out and touched one of the keys on the computer and it sprang to life out of slumber. It was some sort of confirmation for something purchased. A ticket of some kind. I hit back a couple times and was redirected to a website advertising some sort of charity ball.

  Interesting.

  Charming didn’t really seem like the charitable type.

  Next I looked through the papers that were scattered out of a vanilla-colored folder. It was all facts and information about a woman… I came across her photo and recognized her immediately. It was the senator’s daughter.

  What was he up to?

  I looked back at the screen and I was hit in the face with a gust of wind. The laptop’s lid slammed closed and the papers blew, some of them falling onto the floor.

  Startled, I gasped, drawing back away from the table and spinning around to run for the door. But the weird just kept on coming.

  The lights flickered off and on, the TV roared to life, and flames exploded out of the fireplace.

  I almost peed my pants.

  Was this place haunted? Is that why he didn’t have a security system? It would be just like him to buy some creepy place filled with ghosts—ghosts of people he probably killed—and use it to scare the crap out of anyone who stopped by.

  The door was just steps away, the darkness like a beacon. It promised concealment if I could just get there… Someone or something grabbed me from behind, locking their arms around me like a set of vices.

  A scream caught in my throat and I swallowed it. I wasn’t going down like this. I stomped down, using the heel on my booth as a weapon. When the man howled in pain, I took off again. He grabbed at me and the cap on my head was ripped away, but I kept going. I could buy a new hat… but the rest of me…

  Piper’s words echoed through my head. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you too. And I bit back a cry. I’m so sorry, Piper, I thought.

  He caught me again, this time around the waist, and hauled me backward up against his chest, which was solid and much wider than me. I will not scream, I will not scream, I ordered myself.

  “Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?” he growled into my ear.

  Are you freaking kidding me? That was him? Forget peeing my pants. I was going to give him a black eye for scaring me like that! “How did you move that fast?” I demanded.

  I caught his heavy sigh once he heard my voice. I hope I was irritating the hell out of him right now. “You better have a damn good explanation for why I found you in my house, going through my things, George.”

  George! He called me that just to drive me insane. Clearly, I hadn’t done enough damage the first time I stomped on his foot, so I prepared to do it again.

  “Ah—ah—ah,” he warned. “Now is not the time to piss me off any more than you already have.”

  Before I could do anything, he spun me around, his fingers digging into my arms, but I barely noticed the pain. I barely thought about the way he’d scared me—the way he moved so fast.

 
He wasn’t wearing any clothes.

  His skin was bare and carried the sheen of being slightly damp. His muscles… Dear Lord… He was wearing a towel. A towel that was dipping dangerously low on his narrow hips…

  Why! someone inside me demanded. Why is it fair for someone so damn deadly to look so damn good?

  The thought shook me and I squeezed my eyes shut. Man candy or not, this guy was not made of sugar.

  So I kept my eyes closed and began to scream.

  Chapter Five

  “Infuriating - to make furious; enrage.”

  Charming

  “I’m blind!” she screeched. “My eyes!” She began to struggle against my hold and I gladly let her go, giving her a little shove away from me.

  “I think I’m scarred for life now!” she said, bringing her hands up to cover her eyes. “Get some clothes!”

  “You break into my house and then demand I get dressed?” I growled.

  “I see now why you don’t have an alarm. You just walk around half naked. That’s enough to keep anyone out.” She lowered her hands but kept her eyes trained on the floor.

  “I was taking a shower,” I ground out, so annoyed that I explained myself without even thinking about it. Then I stopped. I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone.

  I took a step toward her, watching as she took a step back. I did it again, angling myself away from the door so she would have to do the same.

  I kept prowling closer, reducing the space between us, and she kept scrambling backward trying to gain it back.

  And then she came up against the back of the couch.

  I saw her swallow thickly, her gaze traveling up my body, past my shoulders, until her eyes collided with mine. “You don’t have the look of a woman scarred for life. If anything, you look like a woman who likes what she sees.”

  She snorted and opened her mouth for another of her sarcastic comebacks, but whatever she was about to say died on her lips when I took one last step forward, closing the little space left between us.

  I reached out, resting my hands on both sides of the back of the couch, caging her between my arms. She made a sound and brought her hands up to push me back but then dropped them before actually touching me. “What’s a matter, love?” I whispered. “Are you afraid if you touch me you won’t be able to stop?”

  “Oh my God!” she burst out, ducking beneath my arm and trying to get away. “You are so gross.”

  I caught her arm and yanked her around. “How did you find me? What the hell are you doing here?”

  She pulled herself free and glared at me. “How did you move so fast before?”

  “Answering a question with a question. I’m not the one who owes any answers.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You broke into my house.”

  She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please, your back door opened with a credit card. With locks like that you were practically asking for it.”

  “I don’t need locks. I’m an Escort.”

  She snorted. It was a habit I found very unbecoming. “I knew you’d say that,” she muttered to herself. “Arrogant, pigheaded…”

  “Excuse me?” I lifted a brow.

  “What’s up with all those papers?” she asked, hitching a chin toward where they had fallen to the floor. “Why are you so interested in the senator’s daughter?”

  “I suddenly don’t care why you’re here or what you want. It’s time for you to go. Don’t even think about coming back here again,” I threatened, shoving her toward the French doors.

  “Or what?” she taunted. “You’ll kill me?”

  I didn’t have time to reply because she gasped and stopped in her tracks. I had to move fast to avoid bumping into her. She spun around and pinned me with a hard blue stare.

  “You’re going to kill her, aren’t you?”

  I just stared at her.

  “I knew you were up to something!” she burst out. “Is she your Target? Or is she just for fun?”

  “I do not kill for fun,” I said mildly.

  “Well, you must not hate doing it because you do it all the time.”

  Her words struck something inside me that I hadn’t felt in a long time, and I pushed it back, I didn’t think about those kinds of things anymore. I didn’t feel.

  “What I do is none of your business.”

  “It is when you burst into my friend’s house and pull out a gun, then kidnap her.”

  I sighed. She was exhausting. “So we’re back to that, are we? Your friend is still alive. I am no threat to her anymore,” I said and then pinned her with a stare. “Which is more than I can say about you.”

  “Go ahead and try,” she shot out, leaning toward me and narrowing her eyes.

  “So you aren’t afraid of me at all?” I asked slyly. I reached out and brushed a wild lock of blond hair from her cheek and then slowly let my fingertips travel down her face, making a path all the way down her neck. I felt her heartbeat speed up and I smiled. I shifted, angling my body toward hers and leaning down so that my lips were near her ear.

  “You’re not afraid to be alone with a man without a conscience? With someone who kills for money and power? Who possesses more strength in one hand than you have in your entire body?” As I spoke I splayed my fingers out along her neck.

  Her breath hitched and I moved fast, slamming her body up against the door, wrapping my hand around her throat and applying just enough pressure to make her eyes widen in surprise.

  “There is nothing stopping me from killing you right here, right now,” I growled.

  Her hands came up to grab at where I squeezed her neck. “Please, don’t.” she said. It was a soft plea that I might not have heard if I hadn’t been so close.

  I pushed away from her, putting several feet between us. I heard her gasp from behind and imagined her sinking back against the door and bringing her hands up to her tight throat.

  But that isn’t what she was doing.

  She shoved me hard from behind, sending me forward, tripping a little, and then she shoved me again. “You jerk!” she spat as I caught myself on the edge of the kitchen island and spun around.

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

  “I’m not going to let you kill her!”

  That wiped the smile off my face. “Don’t get in my way.”

  She smiled a flat, unfriendly smile. “Oh, I’m already there.”

  * * *

  I don’t know how long we stood there glaring at each other across the room, but when the start of some bad infomercial came on the TV, it snapped me out of it and I flew across the room at her. It made me extremely satisfied when she flinched like she was afraid.

  As much as I wanted to ring her neck, I wanted her gone more. She was officially the most infuriating person I’d ever met. I tossed her off the deck and into the dark yard and then stalked back into the house and slammed the door, locking the lock she made fun of.

  Then I snatched up the remote on the coffee table and hit a button, lowering all the blinds on the windows. I ran upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and then stood in the darkened window that faced the street and watched as she made her way down the road toward a red Jeep Wrangler.

  I stood there long after she was out of sight, watching to be sure she didn’t come back.

  Tonight was a first for me.

  The first time anyone ever dared to break into my house. The first time anyone ever snooped in my business. The first time the sight of my naked chest didn’t turn a woman into a puddle at my feet.

  But most of all…

  The first time I ever felt anything other than death in a very, very long time.

  Chapter Six

  “Vending machine - a coin-operated machine that dispenses merchandise.”

  Frankie

  Okay, so maybe breaking into his house wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But I did accomplish something. Besides getting scared to death, annoyed, and slightly turned on (just because he’s good-looking doesn’t mean
I have to turn into some obsessive groupie)…

  I learned what he was up to.

  I should have known it wasn’t going to be something as simple as wanting to set up a legitimate residence.

  He had a new Target.

  A high-profile one.

  My hands curled around the steering wheel and squeezed until my joints ached. What was it with this guy? How could he be so casual about killing—about robbing someone of their life?

  I should have listened to Piper. I should have stayed away from him.

  But I didn’t.

  Now I knew.

  I couldn’t just let him kill her.

  The Jeep slowed as I pulled into the parking lot of a place I didn’t even realize I was driving to. It was one of my most favorite places ever. The Iced Princess. The Iced Princess was this completely posh, over-the-top bakery. They were famous here in Alaska for their cupcakes and all pink decor. Everything inside was pink—pink rugs, pink couches, and pink chairs sitting at pink tables.

  They had a bakery counter that would make anyone drool. The cupcakes were piled high with homemade icing and usually with some sort of edible decoration. Not every cupcake was pink, but they did always have their signature treat: Princess for a Day. It was a white cupcake in a hot-pink wrapper, piped high with pastel-pink icing and an edible sugar tiara balanced on top.

  They also had a coffee bar where even the paper cups were pink. The coffee was so good that not even the most macho of men cared to be seen with a pink cup.

  Charming probably wouldn’t be caught dead drinking from a pink cup.

  I pushed him out of my mind. I was taking a brain break from the killer.

  My sugar stores were running low and I needed an emergency pick-me-up. The Iced Princess was closed—they didn’t open until six a.m. for the coffee crowd, but I didn’t have to resort to breaking and entering again that night just to get what I wanted.