by Addison Fox
The protest sprang to Lilah’s lips with the speed of a bullet. “It’s not something either of us can act on.”
“Why not? And if you tell me it’s because he’s a cop, I’m taking the wine away.”
Lilah smiled at that, the threat swift and immediate. “You don’t play fair.”
“Forget fair. You’ve got an opportunity for something wonderful. Don’t run from it.”
“I’m not running.”
“You’re making excuses and it’s the same thing.”
“But what if—” Lilah stopped, her earlier thoughts rising up in a cacophony of mental noise. “I have baggage. And while I know that hardly makes me unique, it’s baggage that interferes with his case.”
“Because your ex-husband is a suspect?”
“Because I want my ex-husband to be a suspect.”
Violet stared at her wine before she turned, a small smile ghosting her lips. “I can usually interpret Lilahspeak, but you need to give me a bit more here. Because try as I might, I really don’t follow you.”
“Steven’s in this. I can feel it. But all evidence suggests he wasn’t at fault for last night.”
“You don’t know that. And even if he wasn’t responsible for the act or for deciding to have you killed, it doesn’t mean he’s innocent. The man knows what’s going on. He practically told you that when he pretended not to know or care Robert and Charlie were murdered.”
“But he couldn’t have ordered the hit on us. And there’s a part of me that wants it to be him so Reed can wrap this up, nice and tight. What kind of person does that make me?”
“Human.” Violet’s sharp answer brought her up short and Lilah could only stop for a moment and stare.
Even as she knew it was hardly fair to condemn anyone, her friend’s ability to hold up a mirror was refreshing. The guilt receded like a wave going back out to sea.
“People make their own choices, Lilah. If Steven’s in this, and by all accounts he is, he’s done this to himself.”
“I know.” Lilah nodded, a forced laugh bubbling in her throat. “My ex-husband certainly is the gift that keeps on giving.”
Violet was about to pat Lilah’s arm when she stopped, her eyes widening. “That’s it.”
“What?”
“It’s not his involvement so much as his connection. Maybe Steven’s been the conduit all along. Cassidy thought it was Robert but maybe it’s been Steven as the connection to whomever is the one behind the scenes leading all this.”
“It fits.”
It did fit and Lilah opened her mind to that possibility.
And to the reality that her past with her husband had little to do with the very real problem they faced now. Steven knew Robert and Charlie and he had access to any number of the city’s movers and shakers. Not everyone amassed wealth in a way that was honest and aboveboard and, knowing her ex-husband as she did, recognized that could be rather intoxicating.
And if some lingering part of her wanted to pin all their problems on Steven, forcing him to serve out the rest of his life in a cage, his golden-boy reputation ruined beyond repair?
Maybe it was time to accept the emotion and move on.
“Reed will get to the bottom of this.” Violet’s conviction was the final balm she needed to reset her expectations.
“You really think it’s only human to want to see my ex-golden-boy-jerkwad get his comeuppance?”
Violet nodded, a gleam lighting her vivid green eyes. “Hell, yes. A good comeuppance is all that jerkwad will ever deserve.”
* * *
Reed navigated the last few blocks to Lilah’s house. She’d kept up a steady stream of chatter on the short drive, but he had the distinct sense her heart wasn’t in it. She’d flitted from topic to topic, seemingly unable to stick to anything.
The evening at Violet’s had been equally confusing. Despite three hours of going over any and all connections the six of them could think of—including a dissection of how close Steven DeWinter was with Robert Barrington and Charlie McCallum—they weren’t much further along than when they’d begun. He did manage to capture a few notes he wanted to follow up on, but nothing felt all that solid.
Their landlady, Jo, was still in the hospital, but Cassidy’s latest information was that she was being moved to a rehabilitation facility the next day. He thought he’d take some time to gently question Jo and Max’s grandfather and see if he could get any further on the jeweler who’d appraised the rubies before they were buried.
Beyond that, he didn’t have much.
“You doing okay?”
“Sure.” Her tone bordered on a squeak and Reed had another layer of reinforcement that something had shaken her.
“You and Violet were gone for a while. Please don’t tell me the two of you were cooking up a new scheme to draw this problem out?”
“Our vigilante days are over. Cassidy learned that lesson the hard way and it was a warning to us all.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Unless you count the ruby you still carry around as a genuine vigilante move.”
“That’s a bargaining chip.” He caught her smile from the corner of his eye as he turned the corner for her block. “And you’ll be pleased to know I was just thinking earlier that it’s time to get it in a safety deposit box and out of my shoe.”
“Hallelujah.”
All he got for his efforts were her rolled eyes, but Reed was pleased to see them on firmer footing. He let the moment hang another few beats before pressing her once more. “Did something else upset you?”
“No.”
He pulled up to Lilah’s home, that lingering sense something was wrong only reinforced by her leap out of the car.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“I’ll walk you up.”
“It’s not—” She broke off at his steady stare and nodded. “Thanks.”
The night was quiet, the oppressive August air surrounding them like a thick, wet blanket. He remembered nights like this when he was on patrol, trying to manage tempers when the stifling heat only added to a domestic dispute or a fight between rivals.
Those days that had seemed endless, he remembered now, when all he wanted was a shot at the detective’s test and to prove himself.
Reed followed Lilah to her door, the skills he’d honed over the past fifteen years jingling loud and clear that she was upset about something.
“Mind if I come in for a cup of coffee?”
She fumbled her key before fitting it in the lock. “Sure.”
The door swung open and she made quick work of the alarm, disarming it, then resetting it once they were both inside. He didn’t miss the slight tremble of her fingers once more as she tapped in the long code, the system flipping to green as she hit the armed button.
Although he knew the direction, he followed behind her as she wended her way through the darkened house, flipping on lights as she went. “Different lights are on than last night.”
“Well, sure. I can’t have the timers go on at the same time or in the same place. What’s the point of having them, then? All anyone would need to do was watch the timers for a few days and they’d still know I was gone.”
Intrigued, he couldn’t resist pressing her. “Who’s watching?”
“You never know.”
Small traces of fear echoed beneath her words and—not for the first time—Reed cursed Steven DeWinter. Although he suspected she and her mother had formed a protective circle around each other after her father died, DeWinter was the one responsible for turning awareness of one’s surroundings to fear.
“How’d you get away?”
“Excuse me?” She turned from where she measured coffee at the counter, her eyes wary, like a mouse watching a large cat.
“Ste
ven. The jerk you married. How’d you get away?”
“Why are you asking about him?”
“Because I can only assume Steven DeWinter is the reason you have lights all over your home set on varying timers to foil would-be intruders. And I can only guess he’s the reason you lock your home up tighter than the entrance to a gold mine. And, finally, I can deduce from both that he’s the reason that layer of wary fear fills your warm brown eyes no matter how hard you try to hide it.”
He ran a lone finger down her shoulder, intrigued by the solid strength in that small frame. “So strong, yet so afraid. Why?”
The slight tremor he’d seen in her fingers shifted to a full-on tremble as she measured the coffee. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
“Are you sure? Because I suspect that’s exactly what you discussed with Violet tonight when you both disappeared.”
Lilah flipped the switch on the coffeemaker, anger rapidly replacing the fear. “You’ve no right to ask me this.”
“We’ve moved well past rights.” He touched her once more, unable to resist.
And in that moment, he realized how desperately he wanted her to come to him.
Willingly.
* * *
Lilah warred with herself. She knew it was dangerous to accept what Reed offered. Steven may have shattered her sense of self, but the man before her had the ability to crush her, heart and soul.
She knew it as clearly as she drew breath.
Reed Graystone had the power to simply destroy her.
And still, she wanted him. Wanted what he offered. Wanted the safety and the sheer exhilaration of being in his arms.
“You still don’t have the right to ask me these questions.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” His gray gaze was speculative in the subdued glow of the lights that hung over her sink. “I think it’s killing you to keep it in and who better to tell than a cop?”
Who better?
And then his arms were open and she was launching herself into them, the thick, steady beat of his heart thudding beneath her ear.
Why had she resisted?
Especially when safety felt so damn good.
They stood there for a moment, aware yet quiet, before Lilah summoned up the words. The usual pain of the memories was muted somehow, as if they couldn’t swipe at her while she stood in the protective circle of his arms.
“It was Las Vegas.”
His arms tightened, but he said nothing, just waited for her to continue.
“Steven had the opportunity to build a property in one of the new hotels in Vegas. It was all he could talk about, week after week, the plans and the menu. I was careful to show only my excitement, encouraging him in each and every conversation, and he responded in kind. I had my husband back.”
While her time with Steven had remained vivid in her mind, those last weeks were especially sharp. The late nights, talking over his new restaurant. His palpable excitement and her feeling that they might have returned to common ground.
That she might have rediscovered the man she’d fallen in love with.
“It was thrilling. I thought I might finally have my marriage on track.”
“But it wasn’t.”
Lilah lifted her head from his chest and stared into those compelling eyes, so full of understanding and compassion. She’d feared censure.
Had feared pity even more.
But all she saw was understanding and acceptance.
“No. It wasn’t. I was supposed to accompany him to Vegas for one of the last construction meetings before the restaurant opened and I caught a massive bug. Flu, chills, all of it.”
“Let me guess. He wasn’t very understanding.”
“No.” Lilah shook her head as her mind summoned the moments, that last night the stuff of nightmares. She was already weak, her body rebelling as it fought off a virus.
And then she’d had to fight the one man in the world who should love her. Respect her. Revere her.
“It started with a small shove, up against the counter as I reached for a tissue. I was miserable, already crying, and my nose was running extra hard because of the flu. He just kept screaming at me. How I didn’t understand. How I was jealous, sabotaging his moment.”
“Despite the fact that you were visibly ill.”
“Yes.” She nodded, the lingering shame of the moment—of staying far too long in a situation that was toxic—rising up to swamp her. With deep breaths, she reminded herself that she was okay. That she’d gotten away.
That she was safe.
“What happened, Lilah?”
“He finally pushed too hard. Slammed me into the counter as the discussion rose to a fever pitch. I cracked two ribs on the thick marble I’d chosen myself for our kitchen.”
“Why didn’t you have him arrested?”
“I tried. He had several slick lawyers and I...didn’t.”
“And he didn’t come after you?”
“I had one ace in my pocket that kept him from succeeding. Two, actually.” Lilah smiled now, the image of her two best friends the beacon of light that saw her through. “They’re both pretty connected in town, between Cassidy’s father and Violet’s parents. Violet suggested that it would be a simple matter of spreading a few rumors about his business and his behavior. The police might not listen but gossipmongers certainly would.”
“Social destruction. I can see where that would be a bigger threat than jail time.”
“Exactly.”
“And he’s left you alone?”
“Until he walked up to our table at Portia, I haven’t seen him since that night.” Through very careful maneuvering, she acknowledged to herself, but the point was still fact. She and Steven had gone their separate ways. Their divorce was handled through lawyers and she’d spent the ensuing years doing her level best to forget she’d ever met Steven DeWinter.
Her hands still lay on his shoulders, the thick muscles under her fingertips strong and solid. He was a good man. An honorable one. And he made her forget to be scared.
For both those reasons, she owed Reed Graystone a debt of gratitude.
But it was the man before her who stirred something else. Something more.
Lifting on her tiptoes, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Stay.”
Chapter 12
Reed was still struggling with his feelings toward Steven DeWinter, the evidence of what the violent bastard had done to Lilah sending him into a murderous rage, when her words finally penetrated the thick haze of anger.
“What?”
“You and me, Detective.” She smiled before pressing another kiss on him. “Together.”
His body was already strung to the breaking point, the temptation of her slender frame a torment he’d been unable to resist for days.
But the rest...
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“I pushed you tonight. Asked questions I know you didn’t want to answer.”
The soft light in her eyes faded, replaced with a wariness that broke his heart. “If you don’t want to—”
He held firm, unwilling to let her squirm away the moment the conversation moved into choppy waters. “Don’t mistake my words. It’s not about wanting. It’s about respecting where you’ve been and what you need.”
“I thought I made what I needed more than clear. I have had sex since my divorce. I’m not some china doll who’s going to shatter the moment we get naked.”
The anger—that rash burst of fire she was so good at laying down—hit him and he ignored it. “I wasn’t suggesting you were. But I’m not some caveman jerk who only wants to get you naked.”
“I know.”
“Then believe me when I tell you I want you.�
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She sighed before softening her tone. “Then why are you thinking so much?”
“Because when you come to my bed, I don’t want you thinking about another man.” He pressed a soft kiss on her lips, gentle in the moment even as his body screamed mercilessly for release.
Had he ever wanted a woman like this?
The need to protect warred with the need to ravish and he fought to keep both in check.
He wanted her, yes. But to admit he needed her?
That suggested a speed and a progression to what was between them that had moved far too fast and had tilted his world on its axis way too far.
Yet hadn’t it?
He was a cop. He had a cop’s instincts and a cop’s sense of awareness.
So how could he continue fooling himself, pretending he didn’t want her? Or worse, pretending he didn’t have feelings for her?
Because he did.
This little slip of a thing who brimmed with fire and passion and something wholly unidentifiable—yet uniquely appealing—had blindsided him, turning his ordered world on its ear.
“I can promise you, you’re the only one I’ve been able to think of.” Reed opened his arms once more and she moved willingly into them.
“On that we’re agreed.”
“Then let’s take the moment. There’s enough bad in the world. I want to reach for something good.”
Lilah stepped away and extended her hand. “Something better than good. Something wonderful.”
* * *
Reed never broke contact, his hands on her the entire walk up to her bedroom. Lilah was torn between reveling in the delicious feel of his touch and stopping every few feet to draw him close for a kiss.
The intermittent stops had a second benefit—they’d managed to strip each other of nearly every piece of clothing. Soft light spilled from her bedroom as the two of them closed the last few feet to the doorway.
“That was a productive trip.” His hands skimmed over her bare skin, lighting sparks wherever he touched.
“I’ll say.” She allowed herself a moment to simply explore, the hard planes of his chest firm beneath her palms.
