by Jacey Ward
Like then.
She seemed to return his expression with glimmering green eyes. She was just so damned hard to read, he couldn’t be sure if she was making eyes at him or trying to melt him with her steely irises.
She’d never dismissed him entirely and Evander was worldly enough to know when a woman was making eyes at him but Bethany was an enigma and while nothing had really happened between them, he didn’t give up hope—at least not yet.
“It’s like we’re connected!” he told her, moving around the desk, his light eyes glowing with promise. She gave him a look which Evander knew was the closest he was going to get to a smile and he took it as a good sign.
“Yes,” she purred, her accent causing a surge of heat to pool in his crotch. “It’s like fate, isn’t it?”
She didn’t shy away from his large hand as it rested against her hip and he drew her slightly closer, his gaze locking on hers. Slowly, her long fingers grazed against the growing bulge at the front of his Escada jeans and Evander groaned softly, bucking his hips forward inadvertently. He moved his mouth forward when her fingers curled along his covered shaft but Bethany ducked her head, shaking it tauntingly.
“Why do you drive me crazy?” he murmured, his full lips inches from hers. Her luscious mouth curved upward and she cocked her head back to return his look.
“Maybe because you’re hangry. I’ll take a combo. Extra feta and hot sauce.”
She pivoted, leaving him alone, his semi on the brink until he realized he had just been cock-teased—again.
He groaned at no one in particular but didn’t move, willing his hard-on to subside before grabbing his wallet from the desk and heading out into the hallway.
I better feed the beast, he thought, shaking his head. After all, the way to drop Bethany’s pants might be through her stomach.
After years of subtle promises on her end, Evander doubted it but like any self-respecting dog with a bone, he had to try.
Bethany snapped at him as he wandered by and spoke into her mouthpiece.
“No, Mr. Connor, he’s right here.”
Evander sighed.
“Fuck.”
So much for lunch.
“Patch it through to my office,” Evander told her, pivoting back toward the interior room. He couldn’t avoid the Corpus forever.
“Kalen.”
“What’s the point of having a goddamned cell if it’s never on?” the demon growled. “And don’t I pay for your cell service?”
“How’s Switzerland?” Evander asked conversationally, ignoring the pointed question. He sank into his high-back leather chair. “And Circe?”
“That’s precisely why I’m calling,” Kalen grunted. Evander sat up with alarmed interest.
“What’s happened?”
“Well, if you answered your damned phone—ah, never mind. I have a job for you.”
“Is Circe all right?”
“She’s okay. I can’t say the same for her models. Well, one model.”
“I’m not following.”
Over the phone, Kalen released a deep sigh.
“The top model in her agency is being harassed and I need you to figure out who’s behind it.”
Evander stifled a grunt of annoyance. He had better things to do with his time than track down some obsessed fan.
“Doesn’t Circe have security for her models?”
“Well obviously, Evander, but I wouldn’t be calling you if they were doing their job, would I?”
“Kalen, this is not a good time—”
“Then you’re really going to hate what I’m asking you to do next.”
Evander waited, chewing on the insides of his cheeks.
“What is it?”
“You need to be on Cassie’s security detail until you figure this out.”
Evander scoffed.
“I’m not a bodyguard but I’ll find some people—”
“No,” Kalen said firmly. “It has to be you. You’re the only one we trust.”
Evander couldn’t shake the sensation that something else was going on that he hadn’t been told.
“Kalen, I really—”
“I don’t care, Evander. Don’t forget that the Corpus still technically owns you. If you don’t agree to this, you can kiss your posh New York City life goodbye and make your way back into the underworld to hang with the trolls for the rest of eternity.”
Evander gaped at the cruel words, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You wouldn’t!”
“I think we both know I would. I haven’t gone that soft, buddy, no matter what everyone thinks.”
Evander ground his teeth together. He had never mistaken Kalen’s newfound love for weakness but he had hoped that it would mellow him somewhat.
He knew he had little choice in the matter before him.
“Where is this brat?” Evander snapped.
“She’s lovely, you’ll like her,” Kalen insisted, almost sounding offended. “Don’t be like that!”
“Fine. Where can I find this lovely brat?”
“She’s on her way to you as we speak. And Evander?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fuck this up. If she dies, you’ll be facing more than just banishment from Earth.”
“Wait, what do you mean if she dies? Someone’s threatening her life?”
“They’re threatening a great deal,” Kalen replied evasively. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”
“Kalen, I can’t do my job if I don’t have the full story.”
“You have everything you need to know—protect Cassandra Sawyer or I’m sending you to purgatory.”
Kalen disconnected the call on his end before Evander could respond and the PI sank further into his chair, indignation rising in his chest.
The more things change, he thought miserably, his eyes darting up toward the doorway by rote, knowing Bethany was about to appear as she always did the second he finished a phone call. As he expected she showed, a scowl on her face.
“There’s a blonde tart here for you,” she muttered. “Hysterical, no less.”
“Send her in,” Evander grumbled but Bethany didn’t move immediately, her sensuous hip jutting out to accentuated her curvy form.
“What about lunch?” she protested, an annoyed tinge to her voice. “I can have her wait. She doesn’t have an appointment. And the senator is still holding.”
Evander shrugged, knowing he couldn’t leave Cassandra waiting, not when he had direct orders from Kalen. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the senator.
“You know where Nikko’s is,” Evander replied easily. “Make mine a combo too.”
It was almost worth saying it, the look of resentment on her face priceless but Evander knew he was apt to pay the price for making such a statement.
In a huff, Bethany stormed from the office, leaving his door wide open.
A moment later, a woman appeared at the threshold and Evander felt his dark brows shoot up in surprise.
Of course, he had expected her to be beautiful—not only was she a model, she was one of Circe Lancaster’s models and everyone knew that Circe only hired the crème de la crème. But Cassandra Sawyer was surreally attractive, everything about her crying “otherworldly” from the fair, white blonde of her hair to the neither blue nor grey of her cat-like eyes. Contradictorily, her lashes were thick and dark, a startling contrast to her creamy, fair complexion.
She was smaller than Evander would have expected for a model, maybe 5’5” but she carried herself with an air of confidence which made her seem slightly taller…despite the red-rim of her eyes.
She’s been crying.
“Are you Evander Blackstone?”
And she’s a goddamn mortal.
Any sense of awe which had encompassed him dissipated the moment he realized that she was untouchable. It went without saying—mortals were off-limits for his kind.
And she’s a client. What are you thinking?
Obviously, he
wasn’t or if he was, it wasn’t with the head he should have been using. He blamed Bethany for his temporary lapse in sanity. She had riled him up too much and he was still sporting a semi.
“I am. You must be Cassandra.”
She nodded quickly and stepped further inside, uninvited. Evander’s eyes moved behind her and his mouth twitched.
“You came alone?” he asked, his initial reservations flooding back.
If she’s in so much danger, why would Kalen send her here, unprotected?
She nodded and perched on the edge of a post-modern chair, staring at him with wide, guileless eyes.
“Yes,” she replied softly. “I can’t find anyone to protect me anymore.”
“And why’s that?” Evander asked.
Because you’re a pain in the ass? I bet she’s high maintenance as hell.
Cassandra raised her head, her shiny, blonde waves falling away from her high cheekbones. Her chin jutted out almost defiantly and she sighed heavily.
“Because whomever is after me has already killed every one of my bodyguards.”
Chapter 2
When Cassie was a little girl, she had been painfully shy. Never mind that her mother thought the sun shone out of her Texan ass. Never mind that everyone envied her innocent beauty and sweet smile. Never mind that when she spoke, her words sounded like mellifluous honey, spilling from her lips. Cassie Sawyer had always wanted to be left the hell alone for as long as she could remember.
Unfortunately for her, Brianna Sawyer had a much different take on how her daughter should behave and thrust Cassandra in as many Little Miss pageants and dance classes as the paper advertised.
Cassie hated every minute of it but her mother heard nothing of her complaints.
“Oh, honey,” Brianna cooed. “One day, ya’ll gonna thank me for makin’ ya’ll rich and famous. When them boys will be linin’ up at your door and everyone will know your name, ya’ll be kissin’ yer mama’s feet.”
Brianna had proved a good prophet in one aspect—Cassie had achieved the fame her mother had wanted for her. But Cassie had no gratitude toward her washed out mother, especially not when she had pilfered away every cent Cassie had earned winning those dozens of pageants over the years. When it had come time for Cassie to attend college, Brianna had claimed poverty but assured her daughter that she shouldn’t have any fear—any modeling agency would be happy to have her.
Again, Brianna had been right, sucking Cassie further into her nightmare of endless parties and being on stage but by that point, she had learned that her mother was a terrible agent.
Not that Analeigh Bowman was much better. Mama stole from me, Analeigh pimped me out and now…
She shuddered under Evander’s steely gaze, waiting for him to react to what she’d just told him about the onslaught of corpses she’d left in her wake.
“Come again?” the attractive PI demanded and Cassie refocused her attention on his shockingly handsome face. It hadn’t occurred to her that her new bodyguard would be good looking but as she had come to realize, he wasn’t a bodyguard at all but a private investigator.
Why did Circe send me here? He can’t save me when my stalker has the resources to take out half a dozen men in less than two weeks.
“It’s just what I said—didn’t Circe tell you?” Cassie demanded. “I’m in serious danger.”
Evander’s full mouth pursed together and he leaned forward to study her face with more scrutiny than made her comfortable.
“I understood that someone has been harassing you,” he said slowly. “No one mentioned dead bodies. How come I haven’t heard about any of this—like on the news?”
Cassie shrugged her shoulders, darting her eyes away from his pensive gaze. She felt oddly secure under his steadfast stare which was ridiculous because she didn’t know the man from Adam.
“Circe has connections in high places,” Cassie sighed. “The publicity would be terrible for the company.”
“Tell me about it,” Evander muttered although to what he was agreeing, she couldn’t be certain—that Circe had connections or that murder was bad for business. In any case, both were true.
“Then how are you wandering around by yourself without protection?” Evander wanted to know. Without speaking, Cassie stood and pulled up her loose-fitting red blouse.
“What the hell are you doing with that!”
Faster than she could register, Evander was at her side, disarming her and back in his chair, staring at the Beretta which Circe had given her for protection.
“H-how did you do that?” she gasped but Evander was too busy examining the gun, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Idiots,” he scoffed. “What is this going to do?”
He looked back at her and Cassie felt a flood of defensiveness.
Is he calling me an idiot?
“Do you even know how to use this thing?”
Her lips parted and a hot flush tinged her cheeks.
“I-I grew up in Austin,” she said, and couldn’t help the note of defensiveness that crept into the tone of her voice. Evander scowled at the response, carelessly tossing the weapon onto his desk.
“Great,” he snapped sarcastically. “I’m surprised you haven’t been shot by a toddler then.”
He met her eyes and his expression softened. Evander sighed as though being kind was painful for him.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what happened?” he suggested in a less irritated tone and Cassie wasn’t even sure where to begin.
“I’m not sure where that is,” she confessed, twisting her fingers nervously.
This started when I listened to my greedy, living-vicariously-through-me mother and became a model instead of a cop like I had always wanted.
It was almost laughable in hindsight, becoming a cop. Who would take her seriously? Miss Teen Austin Flowers three years in a row.
“How did the harassment start? Emails? Phone calls?” Evander pressed. “Was someone following you?”
Cassie nodded.
“All of those things,” she sighed. “I think the very first incident started with an email but I get so many weird ones...my assistant usually goes through them and filters out the crap but I guess when he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted—”
“What were the emails saying? Were they romantic in nature?”
“Like I said, my assistant, Lisette went through the ones at the start and I get so many bizarre ones, she couldn’t remember precisely what was said—I told Circe all this.”
“Humor me,” the PI replied. “And walk me through every detail you can remember.”
“After the emails, I started getting really creepy texts—not just sexual but like snuff films. ‘I’m going to sniff your panties while I strangle you with them’…”
She trailed off, shuddering at the memory.
“I brought the matter to the police then but they couldn’t trace the number—it was a different burner phone every time.”
Evander’s eyes shadowed and she wondered what he was thinking.
“How do you know it’s the same guy as the one who sent the emails?”
“It had the same tone, Lisette said. She was as freaked out as me—she’s the one who suggested I go to the cops in the first place. I wasn’t entirely convinced it was serious until…”
Cassie inhaled deeply.
“Until people started dying?” Evander offered and she nodded, blinking away the tears in her eyes.
“I couldn’t believe it,” she choked. “I’d wake up and my guards would be dead. Shot in the head. There were no clues, no forensics...not a trace of evidence left behind.”
Evander sat back again, a shadow crossing over his face and she watched as his jaw twitched.
He’s got an amazing jaw. I’d like to taste it.
She was aghast at the audacity of the thought, given the direness of her circumstances but she couldn’t deny that heat was rushing through her when she studied his face.
/> What is it about this guy?
“But you’ve never been attacked?”
“Well, that depends on your definition of attacked!” she replied indignantly. “My privacy has been invaded, people killed on my doorstep—I’d call that all a personal attack, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” he conceded, grunting slightly and Cassie could tell that he thought she was being melodramatic.
“I’m just asking if you have ever come face to face with this guy, Cassandra.” He was clearly trying to maintain his patience and Cassie knew she shouldn’t feel upset but she couldn’t help it.
“No.” She said it flatly and turned her head away, not wanting to look at his face.
He exuded pompousness, a cocksure attitude which made her want to smack him and yet she couldn’t deny that she also wanted to drop her panties and bend over the desk in front of Evander Blackstone simultaneously.
You need sleep. You’re going crazy from all that’s happened.
As if he was reading her mind, Evander spoke again.
“We need to find you a safe place to stay so you can get some rest,” he sighed. “I have a couple of safe houses in the city—”
“Why can’t I stay with you?” she interjected, wondering where the hell the words had come from. They seemed to have fallen from her mouth before she even knew what she was saying.
The look of shock on Evander’s face matched hers and he shook his head vehemently.
“No way,” he replied gruffly. “I don’t let strangers into my house and certainly not clients.”
I’ll bet he lets strange women into his house all the damned time, Cassie thought bitterly but she didn’t voice her thought aloud.
“No,” he stressed once more, rising. “I’ll find a safe house for you to stay in until I can look into this further and I’ll go from there.”
He pressed a button on the desk phone and spoke into his earpiece.
“Bethany, I need you to email me the list of safe houses we have right now.”
His brow furrowed and he pressed the intercom again.
“Bethany?”
Suddenly, the sound of heels clicking against the polished tile caught her attention and Cassie turned to look as the receptionist strolled into the office, a paper bag in her hands. The smell of marinated meat met Cassie’s nostrils and she realized how hungry she was.