Step Into My Web

by Cynthia Eden

  She hesitated, ever so briefly, before continuing her journey down the stairs. She paused on the second step from the bottom, a step that put her near eye level with Joel. “Killer is exactly what I was going for, thank you so much.” She sent him a brief smile. “You look dashing.”

  Reese laughed. “Told him the same thing.”

  “But it sounds different coming from her.” Joel took her hand. Curled his fingers carefully around hers.

  Her lips were painted a sleek red. She’d lined her eyes with black liner and put smoky shadow on her eyelids. The result was that her eyes seemed even sexier. Mysterious and enchanting, and he was not the kind of man normally to be enchanted.

  She finished descending the stairs and stood at his side.

  He kept his hold on her hand. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

  “We go in. Question the owner of the Serpent. Talk up the patrons. See what we notice.”

  “Simple enough plan.”

  “It’s the people we have to watch. The reactions they make. How they respond to us.” Her voice was very serious. “Everyone has secrets, but I’ve found that most people hate keeping those secrets. They do things to let the truth slip all the time. The trick is to just watch for those slips. To understand them.”

  He’d done more digging on Chloe and her secrets during the long hours of the day. But every time he thought that he’d uncovered something he could use, more questions appeared instead of answers.

  “I don’t think we should take the motorcycle tonight. As much as I love your ride, I feel like we’d be better served with another vehicle.”

  “That means I’m driving.” Marie’s voice.

  He glanced to the side and saw her standing near the entranceway. “Of course, you are.” How could it be a party without Marie and her glares?

  She waved a hand vaguely in the air. “I’ll stay close in case there is trouble.” Her eyes were on Chloe. “You need me, all you have to do is call.”

  “Hopefully, that won’t be necessary.” She looked over at Reese. “You’ll be good tonight?”

  “Good enough. Don’t worry about me.”

  With a nod, Chloe pulled her fingers from Joel’s grip. “Then let’s get moving.”

  He fell into step behind her—

  “Take care of my sister,” Reese fired out.

  Joel inclined his head. That was his job, wasn’t it?

  The night air was warm and heavy against them. All too soon, they were in the back of the limo and heading for their destination. Marie had the privacy screen up as she drove.

  Joel waited for Chloe to speak.

  She didn’t.

  He waited a little longer. Still nothing. Hell. “I’m an asshole.”

  “Are you now?” Her stare was directed out of the nearby window. She was staring at the buildings as they drove past them.

  “I wanted you fucking badly, and stopping like that—I said stuff I didn’t mean. I…” She wasn’t looking at him. “I’m trying to apologize here.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Are you certain?”

  “Yes.”

  Her head finally turned toward him. “Usually, when people apologize, they say things like, ‘I’m sorry.’ I didn’t hear that.”

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped.

  “Your apology isn’t necessary. And again, I’m not so sure that’s what you’re really doing.”

  “Then what is it that you think I’m doing?”

  “Trying to figure out a way to say that you still want to sleep with me.”

  He leaned toward her. She smelled delicious. “I don’t want to sleep with you.” Faint illumination came from the soft lights in the back of the limo, so he could see her face as he flatly said, “I want to fuck you. Sleep doesn’t exactly come into play in the equation.”

  Her tongue swiped over her lower lip. “I see.”

  “You think we can do it?” He wanted to touch her skin. Slide his fingers over the curve of her cheek.

  “Yes, yes, I think it should be quite possible. Why wouldn’t it be? Unless you have some sort of anatomical anomaly that—”

  A surprised laugh burst from him.

  What the hell? Did I just laugh?

  Before Chloe, he hadn’t laughed, not in months. But…A smile pulled at his lips. “I assure you that, anatomically, I’m more than up for the job.”

  Her brows climbed. “I thought so, given what I could feel last night. And what I could see.”

  About that… “You didn’t say a word about my scars.”

  “Why would I?”

  “They don’t bother you?”

  “They aren’t my scars. They’re yours. Why would they bother me?”

  “Because they make me look like a freak. Because my body was sliced to hell and back, and I’m covered in white ridges that will never go away.”

  Her hand lifted. Her fingers touched his mouth. No, the scar that cut across his lip. The only scar on his face.

  “You mean scars like this one?” Chloe asked softly.

  He wanted to lick her finger. To pull it into his mouth.

  Why the hell am I in some kind of sexual overdrive with her?

  He’d only fucked one woman since his attack. He’d picked her up in a bar, kept the lights off so she wouldn’t see his body, but when she’d turned the lights on and gotten a look at him…

  She’d run as fast as his girlfriend had when she’d fled the hospital.

  Chloe wasn’t running. She was leaning toward him, looking like the sexiest dream of his life, and her finger was sensually sliding over his lip.

  “Yeah,” he forced himself to say. And his tongue did slip over her index finger. “Scars like this one.” Only the other scars were much worse than that little one.

  A shiver slid over her at the touch of his tongue. Because he was watching her so closely, he caught the faint movement. Only he knew she wasn’t shivering because of revulsion.

  Desire.

  “I won’t lie to you and say that I don’t notice the scars. They mark you.” She lightly traced the scar on his lip. “But they do nothing to detract from you. I don’t know why you would think they do. If anything, they make you sexier.” Her hand fell away.

  He shook his head. “There is no way they make me—”

  “They show how strong you are. They show that you’re a fighter. I happen to find strength and determination to be extremely sexually attractive.”

  Joel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Then if each scar is a sign of strength…hell, you must be extremely sexually attracted me.” Because he had scars to spare and—

  “Yes, I am.” Chloe spoke so calmly. So clearly. With no hesitation or subterfuge whatsoever.

  “I do not understand you,” he whispered. But I want to.

  “Most people don’t. I’ve gotten used to that.” What could have been a hint of sadness drifted through her voice. “So, are we reaching some sort of sexual deal?”

  His heart shoved into his chest even as his dick shoved hard against the front of his pants. “I work as your partner on the case…”

  “Partner. Protector. Whatever term you prefer.”

  He wanted her mouth.

  “But,” Chloe continued, “that’s unrelated to anything physical that happens between us.”

  His gaze was still on her mouth. “Completely unrelated.”

  “Can you compartmentalize that way? You won’t…just because we have sex, you won’t lose your objectivity?”

  He forced his stare to rise so that he could stare her straight in the eyes. “Are you asking me if I’m going to fall in love with you?”

  Chloe’s head moved in a small, negative shake. “I asked if you would maintain your objectivity.”

  “Will you maintain yours?” Joel pushed back.

  “You should carefully consider this.” Her voice had turned husky. Like a stroke right over my cock. “Because maybe…perhaps you could be my partner, but not my lover. Or my lover, but no
t my partner.”

  Now he had to touch her. Because…I will be both. His hand curled under her chin. “Do you know what most people say about surgeons?”

  “That they’re very good with their hands? And I must say, you certainly proved that last night.”

  She delivered those words in her cool and easy British accent, and it actually took them a moment to register in his mind. When they did, Joel found himself smiling again. “Did you just give me props for my sexual skills?”

  “You know you brought me pleasure. I was merely stating a fact. But if you want to take the words as a compliment, please feel free.”

  “Thanks.” He leaned even closer. “Surgeons do have good hands, but people also say that a high number of surgeons are psychopaths.”

  “Yes. I have heard that.” She didn’t seem even mildly fazed. “Surgeons, CEOs, politicians. People with very high stress jobs—like surgeons—have to be able to emotionally distance from the work they are doing. If you couldn’t distance or detach yourself, then every single time you cut into a patient, your fingers wouldn’t be as steady. You’d be more likely to make a fatal mistake.”

  Every single time you cut into a patient.

  He looked at the fingers he’d curled around her chin. Her delicate jaw. He immediately released her and eased back.

  “Did I say something to upset you?” Chloe asked.

  He flexed and clenched his fingers. “You don’t seem overly concerned that a psychopath might be touching you…and planning to fuck you.”

  “Three points. First, all psychopaths aren’t killers, and all killers are most definitely not psychopaths. Just because you can maintain an emotional distance doesn’t mean you’re some cold-blooded murderer. There are plenty of people who fit the psychopathic personality definition who lead full, productive lives.”

  “Good to know.” He could never predict what the woman was going to say. Never. “What’s point two?”

  “I actually don’t think you possess many psychopathic personality traits. At least not any of the ones that would trigger alarm bells. While I think you can be charming when the situation calls for it, I haven’t exactly seen a ton of superficial charm floating from you.”

  She’d just said he was a dick. He was sure of it. She’d used Chloe-speak to do it.

  “Although you did manipulate Reese last night when you plied him with whiskey. And people with psychopathic personality traits are very adept at manipulation.”

  “Hey, he’s the one who brought up drinking the whiskey. I just decided to be a pal and drink a little with him.”

  The car was slowing down. Were they already at their destination? Joel squinted as he peered through the tinted rear windows to try and see where they were.

  “I think you have empathy. You attempt to hide it. You do try to act as if you don’t care, but the empathy is there. It slips through your cracks. I could see it when you talked to Cinnamon. Deep down, you care about people. I suspect that caring is what drove you to become a surgeon in the first place. You didn’t do it because you wanted a high-paying job or social esteem. You did it to help people.”

  “Surgeons are arrogant assholes. Ask anyone. Trust me, I can fit that bill perfectly.” He flattened his hands over his thighs. “What was point three?”

  The limo’s rear door opened. “We’re here,” Marie said. “And there’s already a line.”

  Chloe started to slide from the limo.

  He caught her wrist. “Point three.”

  “Right. Point three.” She looked down at his hand. “You wouldn’t be the first psychopath I’d slept with.”

  Well, fuck.

  His hold tightened on her. “Got an ex you hate, huh?”

  “You have no idea.”

  It must be the guy who’d burned her. “Want me to kick his ass for you?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “No. Quite the contrary. I want you to stay as far away from him as you possibly can.” She tugged her hand free. “Let’s do a test run. Tonight, it might be appropriate for our two roles to blur.”

  “I don’t get exactly what that means.”

  “It means that we’re partners, but I need for you to act as if we’re already lovers.”

  Before he could reply, she slipped out of the car. He followed. Realized they were a few streets away from the Square. And that Marie had been right. A line did circle the building. A line of richly dressed men and women were vying to get in the place. Two big bouncers waited near the entrance. Over the heads of the bouncers, a glowing snake appeared and disappeared—with a red tongue flickering out—on the side of the two-story structure.

  “I’ll stay close,” Marie murmured. “Remember, if there’s trouble, I can be here in a flash.”

  He looked at the throng of cars lining the road. “Doubt it.”

  “You shouldn’t doubt my skills,” she immediately retorted. “I never say anything I don’t mean.”

  Okay.

  Marie jabbed him in the chest. “You gonna take care of her?”

  Damn straight. “She won’t leave my sight.”

  She grunted—what he took as a pleased sound. Then Marie hopped back into the vehicle. As she drove away, Joel eyed the line. It kinda looked like a long, twisting snake. If they waited in that thing, it would take forever to—

  He realized Chloe had left him. So much for not letting her out of my sight! Chloe was walking straight toward the bouncers. They immediately waved her forward and even lifted the little red rope that blocked the entrance for everyone else.

  He rushed to catch up with her. “Chloe—”

  One bouncer immediately lowered the red rope.

  The other shoved his hand against Joel’s chest. “I don’t think so, buddy,” he snarled. “Take your ass to the end of the line.”

  Joel looked down at the hand, then back up at the guy who had at least three inches and fifty pounds on him. Joel smiled. “You’ll want to stop touching me.”

  Laughter.

  “Before I have to kick your ass,” Joel finished.

  “I’d like to see you try.” The guy shoved harder. “I would like—”

  Joel caught his hand. Twisted. Applied the right amount of pressure on the bouncer’s wrist. Not enough to break it. Just enough to send pain radiating all the way through the fellow’s arm.

  “Oh, for goodness sake.” Chloe’s heels tapped toward him. She unhooked the red rope. “Joel, I want you to release Wedge at once.”

  Wedge?

  Joel let him go. “He was being handsy.”

  Wedge lunged toward him.

  Chloe stepped between them. “Wedge, stop. He’s with me.”

  Every single muscle in Joel’s body had locked down. Fury burned within him.

  Wedge’s fist was raised. His face twisted into a snarl.

  “Lower the fist,” Joel ordered. “Get it the hell away from Chloe’s face. Now.”

  Wedge blinked. “I’d never hurt her.”

  Joel grabbed Chloe’s hand. Yanked her behind him.

  Wedge had lowered his fist.

  “He’s with me,” Chloe repeated quietly. “Sorry. I thought you saw us exit the limo together.”

  Joel glared into Wedge’s beady eyes. “He did see it,” Joel assured her. “But he thought he’d have some fun.” Joel leaned toward Wedge. “Not with me, you won’t. And if you ever raise your hand near her again, I’ll make sure you lose those fingers.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt Chloe,” Wedge grunted. His lips twisted. “But you on the other hand…”

  “Bring it, big guy,” Joel taunted. You raised your fist to her? I will make you—

  “Stop this nonsense!” Chloe elbowed Joel. “This is a waste of time. Wedge, we’re going inside. Kingston is here, I assume.”

  “On the second floor. Though he might be…occupied.”

  “Well, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t. Don’t worry. I’m sure we can catch his attention.” She glanced at Joel. “Are we quite ready now?”


  He was ready to pound the hell out of Wedge, but…later. For the moment, he gave a curt nod and followed Chloe inside.

  He expected pounding music. Gyrating dancers. This was a club, right?

  But…

  Joel didn’t get what he expected.

  Classical music drifted in the air. Diamonds dangled from wrists and ears and necklaces as champagne exploded from bottle after bottle. No wonder Chloe had insisted that he dress up. Each man there was wearing a suit that screamed of money. And the women? Dressed to tempt. To make a man beg.

  “This doesn’t exactly seem like the place I expected to find Donnie Adams,” he muttered.

  “Appearances can be deceiving.” Her eyes slowly swept the club.

  One woman strolled by with a roll of her hips. She was wearing a ruby big enough to choke a small child. Joel whistled. “Donnie seemed to be a thug. An asshole who hurt dancers. How the hell would he have the money to fit in here?”

  “Let’s find out how.” She took a determined step forward.

  He immediately pulled her back. “Not so fast.” A dark corner waited to the side. He guided her there, then pinned her between his body and the wall. “Ground rules. Now. Before anything else happens.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “I’m supposed to be the protection, right?”

  “Is that why you were flexing with Wedge? You wanted me to see that you were capable of being…fierce? Unnecessary, I assure you. I already know you are—”

  “I wasn’t flexing.” Jeez. Insulting. “I was stopping the dick from pushing me around.” He brought his body even closer to her. “He could’ve hit you.”

  “He wouldn’t have done that. Wedge doesn’t—”

  “You stepped between him and me. He wanted to pound his fist into my face. When you moved between us, that beefy fist of his could have hit you.” Joel huffed out a breath. “Then I would have needed to kill him.”

  She stared into his eyes. Seemed to search his gaze. Click, click. “No.”

  “What?”

  “No. You wouldn’t kill him. You might hurt him rather severely if he’d punched me, but you wouldn’t kill him.”

  “What are you—”

  “However, the point is moot because Wedge wouldn’t hurt me. Wedge would never hurt any woman. His father abused his mother while he was growing up. He was a big man, much like Wedge. He hurt her over and over, until Wedge got big enough to stop him.”