Biker Romance: Never Desire an Exile (Exile Love Biker MC Series Book Book 2)

by Kara Summers

  Most of the time I managed to stay composed, but every now and then that mask would crumble, and I would be left struggling and trying desperately to hold myself together. When you dealt with death as intimately as I did, you couldn’t help but fear the worse on occasion. I saw women with their faces sliced to shreds, and human beings who’d been disemboweled. When you saw that on such a regular basis, it became difficult not to wonder what if that was how you met your end. Or worse, what if it was someone you loved?

  I often dreamed of blood and screams, and I would wake up drenched in sweat with tears pouring down my face. I would silently wish that the empty space beside me held a warm companion to comfort me, and then I’d curl up and go back to sleep, shivering and afraid by the monsters that haunted my mind.

  The carriage lurched to a stop and I poked my head out the window, looking at the driver. “Have we arrived?”

  “Yes Ma’am.”

  I turned my gaze to the mansion and my eyes widened just a little. The large Victorian home rose into the sky, pillars reaching for darkened clouds. The house itself was painted a pristine white with navy shutters. The contrast was rather lovely, but the sheer size of it made me nervous. Just from looking at the outside and counting windows, I could tell that the house had at least twelve rooms and a sizable amount of land. I was sure there were servant’s quarters, garden sheds, and all manner of structures that weren’t attached to the main house. This idea made me squirm in my seat. The killer could easily still be in a place this big. It wasn’t safe.

  I stepped out of the carriage, the heels of my shoes sinking into the soft dirt. I sighed and stepped forward, chewing my lip a little.

  “Thank you, Sir,” I said, handing the stage coach driver a tip as he passed me my luggage.

  “Would you like me to walk you to the door?” he asked.

  “That won’t be necessary,” I assured, glancing up at the large, wrought iron gate that stood open before me.

  I made my way up the cobbled path, glancing around me almost nervously as I approached the towering oak doors. I reached up at knocked, waiting patiently. After a long moment I reached up to knock again, but the doors swung open, startling me and making me jump back. A towering man stood in the doorway and swung his arm, silently beckoning me to come in.

  As I stepped into the main foyer, my eyes never left the tall servant. I’d never seen a man of his stature before. He had to be at least seven feet tall. I was so entranced by his lankiness and height, that I didn’t even notice Jasper coming down the grand staircase.

  “He’s a sight, isn’t he?”

  I spun around and stared at Jasper, my heart beating quickly. I wasn’t sure if it was my visceral reaction to Jasper or if it was the fact that he’d managed to sneak up on me. Thanks to the sprawling house, I was already on edge. I swallowed and nodded slowly.

  Jasper made his way down the stairs, looking me up and down for a moment. He was smiling rather easily for a man who’d just had a maid killed. It made me rather suspicious.

  “Can I offer you any tea?” he asked dutifully.

  “No thank you,” I said, forcing myself to ignore my jitters and be polite.

  “You shouldn’t refuse a host’s hospitality.”

  I was quickly losing my patience. I cleared my throat and looked at the man for a long moment. “With all due respect, Mr. Leon, from what I understand there is a dead woman somewhere in this house and I have been called here to investigate her death. I would very much appreciate it if you would let me do my job.”

  He seemed a little surprised by my sudden demands, but nodded and cleared his throat. “Of course,” he said, motioning to the staircase. “I will take you to her.”

  “Thank you.”

  As we walked through the hall, a heavy silence fell over us. “Did you know her well?” I asked, glancing up at him.

  “Yes. She was a dear friend of the family.”

  “I thought she was a servant,” I said, somewhat confused.

  “Can’t she be both?”

  “I suppose so,” I said, feeling closed-minded, my cheeks going pink when he pointed out that fact.

  He nodded. “. Though she was a servant, she was also a friend. She was a wonderful woman and I am reeling a bit from all of this,” he admitted.

  The fact that he was so open and managed to talk about this woman so easily was impressive and I admired him for it. We came to stand in front of a door and he looked away.

  He hesitated and nodded his head towards the door. “She’s right in there.”

  Chapter Seven

  I pushed open the door, expecting to find the woman face down in a puddle of her own blood. When you worked in my profession, you learned to expect the worst in these types of situations. Instead of finding her on the floor, however, I saw that she was laying peacefully in her bed with her arms crossed over her chest as if she were asleep.

  For a long moment I started at her, frowning. “I thought she was murdered,” I whispered, almost afraid that the old woman might wake and hear me.

  Jasper crossed the room and slowly pulled back the bed sheets, revealing blood stained clothing and sheets. “We moved her. She was in her undergarments; it was undignified.”

  “You should never move the body!” I hissed, rubbing my temple, clearly stressed. “You should never, ever move the body! It is one of the most important clues I have to work with,” I stated firmly.

  “I couldn’t very well leave her in the green house nearly naked while I waited for you!” Jasper countered.

  “Please tell me you at least left the crime scene untouched?” I murmured, inspecting the wounds on the woman’s body. They weren’t quite stab wounds, though they were punctures of some sort. They littered the poor woman’s torso and I couldn’t help but think that her death had been a horrid one. She hadn’t gone quickly.

  “We did not touch the green house yet,” he murmured.

  “Will you take me there?” I asked.

  He reached over and almost lovingly covered the woman’s body again. Her grey hair had been brushed and a small amount of rouge applied to her ashy skin. It was clear that he cared for this woman. I sighed and touched his arm, the warmth of his skin under my fingers sent electricity through my veins.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said gently.

  “I just want to find her killer. I owe her justice. She loved me and cared for me since I was a boy. I at least owe her that.”

  I nodded slowly. “I’m not going to leave until we figure this out.”

  He didn’t respond to me and stood up straight, clearing his throat. “Follow me,” he murmured, leading me away from the room and down the hall.

  I followed him silently, not wanting to upset him more than he already was. It was clear the poor man was suffering. When I first took over my father’s business, I didn’t understand the value of being subtle. When family members would break down into tears and cry for their deceased loved ones, I would just look away and keep asking my questions.

  One day, a young mother who’d been convinced her husband had drowned their baby, grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me so hard my vision went blurry. She stared at me, her eyes wide and full of tears.

  ” That was my daughter! That was my child!” she’d sobbed. “How can you stand there and keep asking me these questions?”

  At the time, the outburst surprised me and upset me. I wasn’t the family therapist, I was there to solve a crime and that’s exactly what I was trying to do. I thought about that case a lot and it was always a silent reminder of the fact that these were people who had lost loved ones. I had to recognize that and I had to recognize the grief of the family if I was going to be any good at my job. I wasn’t great at it yet, but I was getting there.

  We walked through the marbled hallway, passing statues and painting of regal looking men and women. He led me through the kitchen and out a set of large wooden doors.

  The green house was just in front of me and I wasted no
time. I jogged over, lifting the hem of my dress to keep it out of the mud. Apparently something my nannies tried to teach me sunk in. I was still a lady and I occasionally acted like it.

  The doors to the green house were still open and I could see a large pool of blood in the middle of the wooden floor, with smaller spots of blood that led out onto the grounds. I assumed that these were left behind when the old woman had been carried out.

  “What is her name?” I asked, turning back to Jasper who still looked like a kicked puppy.

  “Pearl.”

  I nodded and went back to my work, kneeling and taking in the scene. There were a pair of bloodied gardening shears near the pool of blood and I felt my throat tighten just a little. Those were the murder weapon, no doubt about it. Jasper was watching me silently as I opened a leather doctor’s bag that I’d brought along with me. I pulled out various instruments and took measurements, trying to lift finger prints from the shears. It was still a new technology, but it worked and I had become very interested and very good.

  As I worked, I could feel Jasper’s eyes on the back of my neck. I knew he was watching me, though it wasn’t for the same reason that most men watched. I could feel the worry and the fear in his gaze. I sighed and glanced over my shoulder, standing and touching his arm.

  “Maybe you should wait outside? This might be a bit much for you,” I offered.

  He nodded and took my advice, wandering to the outside of the green house and waiting silently for me to return. I collected everything I could and when I came back out an hour later, I was fairly certain I’d put together what happened.

  Jasper glanced at me and my blood covered apron as I exited the green house. “Well?”

  I sighed and shook my head. “We should talk inside.”

  This wasn’t going to be pretty.

  Chapter Eight

  He led me into the parlor and I settled on a nearby chair as he walked over to his bar cart and began pouring himself a whiskey. I eyed the booze hungrily and looked up at him.

  “May I have one as well?” I asked.

  He hesitated and looked back at me. “It’s whiskey.”

  “I’m aware.”

  He nodded and poured me one on the rocks, handing it over to me. “I haven’t met many women who drink like you do.”

  “You see a lot of things in my line of work. Things that make it hard to sleep at night,” I murmured, closing my eyes.

  He nodded and settled on the seat across from me, watching me closely. “Tell me everything.”

  “I’m not sure if you want to know everything,” I said.

  “I can assure you, I do,” he said, his eyes wide.

  I sighed and leaned on my hand, closing my eyes. “The murderer stabbed her repeatedly with the garden shears,” I said softly. “I managed to lift some finger prints, but that is only useful if the murderer is in London and also happens to have committed a crime within the last three years. I’m going to finger print the rest of your staff, and do the best I can to find her killer.”

  He looked at me, his hands shaking just a little. I sighed and stood, kneeling in front of him and reaching out to take his hand.

  “These crimes are hard,” I said gently. “The answers don’t come easily, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try,” I said, looking up at him.

  He nodded slowly, looking down at me. His eyes were clouded, and for the first time I realized that he was confused. It was a gaze that held far too many emotions too express. He reached and touched my cheek, my face flushing.

  “You look so different like this,” he whispered.

  “Different?”

  “From the first night I saw you.”

  “Oh. You remembered me?” I asked, laughing nervously. “I thought I managed to get away without being recognized.”

  “How could I forget a rose like you?” he whispered.

  His fingers were tracing the line of my jaw now and was turning to mush under his hands. I was staring into his steely eyes as he started to lean down. My heart was beating a million miles a minute and I turned my head quickly, trying to hide my embarrassment.

  “It must be a letdown to see me so plain then,” I said.

  He turned my head so that I was forced to look at him and smiled softly. “No, I think I like you like this better.”

  My eyes widened and I swallowed thickly, rising to my feet and trying to ignore the fire that was burning through my veins.

  “I should go finish looking through the crime scene,” I stammered.

  He released me and nodded, standing to top off his drink. “Of course,” he said, regaining his composure.

  I all but ran out of the study, my heart jumping so far into my throat I could taste it. I put a hand to my chest and let out a soft whimper. Was this really happening? In the end it didn’t really matter if it was real or not because I had a job to do. Jasper was mourning and people did strange things when they were in mourning.

  I wanted to chalk it up to his sadness, but as the days turned to weeks his advances only became more obvious. Even as the sadness faded to something a little less intense he continued to tell me I was beautiful and touch me in ways that made me want more. We were playing a dangerous game and I didn’t even know the rules.

  This case was one of the hardest I’d ever taken on, and I had to admit that if it were anyone else, I probably would have given up by now and moved onto the next case, but I felt loyalty to Jasper. I didn’t want to leave him with questions.

  It was going on two weeks and I hadn’t left the mansion yet. Ivana sent messengers with finger print records and letters regarding the business. She was holding down the fort in my absence and had managed to solve quite a few cases on her own. I was impressed with her work and made a mental note to tell her how proud I was when I arrived home.

  I missed my office, but not enough to leave Jasper’s side. I wanted to be near him and I wanted to make him happy. When we spent time together he made me feel things I’d never felt before in my life, and I honestly didn’t know how to reconcile it. Keeping a professional relationship was becoming difficult.

  I was staying in one of the many guest bedrooms the mansion had to offer, and Jasper and I had adopted a bedtime ritual. We would meet in the study to have a glass of whiskey while we found out more about one another.

  “Isn’t it hard?” he asked on evening.

  “Isn’t what hard?” I asked, cocking a brow.

  He hummed and stroked his chin as if he were considering his answer. “Being a woman and doing what you do?”

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes a little “Please. I have just as much fortitude as a man,” I murmured. “I don’t frighten easily, and I have a strong stomach.”

  He shook his head and set his glass down. “That’s not what I mean.”

  I blinked and cocked my head. “What do you mean then?”

  “Well, people must talk,” he said softly. “You’re a woman in a man’s world.”

  I sighed and nodded. “Of course people talk. I’m fairly certain people have been gossiping since humans developed language,” I murmured. “I just ignore it.”

  “It’s that easy?”

  “Of course not, I’ve just had a lot of practice. I’ve always been a strange bird, as my father liked to say,” I admitted with a small smile.

  He nodded and smiled, standing and walking over to touch my hand. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to my cheek, the scent of whiskey lingering on his breath.

  “Don’t ever change,” he whispered huskily.

  I blushed deeply and nodded slowly, watching as he turned and left, heading toward his own chambers.

  For a moment, I considered following him, but the lewd thoughts made my cheeks burn and I retired to my own room for the evening, doing my best to ignore the ache in my chest and between my legs.

  Chapter Nine

  I did my nightly routine before crawling into bed, sinking into the silk sheets and covering myself with the
down comforter. I never had finery like this before. My business was successful but I wasn’t rich by any stretch of the imagination. I was comfortable and fed, but I never had the extra money to spend on things like down comforters. I was going to enjoy it while I could.

  I dozed off rather quickly, which was not strange for me. I was a heavy sleeper and so when I felt weight pressing into the bed, I was convinced that I must be dreaming.

  The bed creaked under the stranger’s weight and soon I could feel breath on my ear. I turned, my eyes bleary from sleep. My gaze met eyes as black as night and a face that was shrouded in cloth. I could feel the person’s hot breath through the thin linen and I could feel soft mounds pressed against my shoulder. In that moment, I realized this was a woman beside me.

  She reached out and stroked my hair almost tenderly as her fingers wandered down to brush my neck. I was frozen with fear, but just as she started to put pressure on my throat, my body came alive and I jumped up, running out of my bedroom, screaming until my throat was raw.

  I grabbed a lantern off the wall and swung it around to cast light on the strange woman who’d followed me. When I turned, my chest heaving beneath the thin, linen slip, I saw nothing. I was alone in the hall and no one was emerging from my room.

  My eyes darted around the hall, hand shaking. Just as I started to come down, believing my experience to be the result of a vivid nightmare, someone reached out and touched my shoulder. I spun around, lantern raised in the air, ready to come down on the head of the poor soul who dared touch me. My eyes were wide and wild and my breathing uneven.

  My gaze met Jasper’s and he managed to catch my wrist before I could clock him over the head. “What in the world is going on?” he asked sleepily.

  “There was a woman in my room,” I whimpered.

  He frowned and gently released my arm, taking my hand and leading me back to the bedroom. I tucked myself behind him, my eyes wide in fear. He approached the door slowly, finally throwing it open. The room was empty, though my bed was a mess from where I’d scrambled out of it so quickly.