by Vanessa Dare
Nick shook everyone’s hands, but didn’t move from his position behind me, keeping me wedged between his body and the high-top table. He looked to be an attentive date, sheltering me from the rowdy baseball fans who were bumping into our backs, but I knew otherwise. Where he stood, how he touched me was calculated and said without words he had the upper hand. I wasn’t going anywhere without him.
It was difficult not to squirm as I shared everyone’s names. I’d never mentioned a guy to this small group of acquaintances before, let alone have one show up out of the blue and being so…there. The waitress dropped off the pitcher and a glass for Nick. Paul poured another round for everyone.
“How do you two know each other?” Stephanie pointed between the two of us, brazen interest on her face.
“Anna did a little work for my boss,” Nick replied. I’d forgotten how deep his voice was.
I licked my lips, took a sip of my beer, trying to cool my suddenly parched throat, as well as to stall for time. He still thought I worked for Moretti. That I flew all the way to Denver to shoot Bobby Lane, then come back and go to karate class followed by drinks with my friends. Was this what hit men did? Kill someone then return to their regular lives?
“Oh, do you mean that big hotel project?” Stephanie continued.
“Right,” Nick said, taking a big swig of his beer. “The hotel project.”
I wanted to tear through the bar, taking out people on the way to the door if I had to, to get out into the open air, with viable options for escape. If he’d found me at the bar, he surely knew where I lived. I could run, but couldn’t hide.
I dropped the cocktail napkin I’d shredded onto the table. I couldn’t have Stephanie grill him further; who knew what she’d ask? Something simple like—What do you do for a living?—was a landmine I wanted to dodge. I darted a glance to the guys. From their grim expressions, they were ready to rip Nick limb from limb. I couldn’t blame them. The way Nick stood behind me screamed possession. There was no doubt to anyone in the bar that I belonged to him. That idea kicked my panic into high gear. Had it only been about two minutes since he appeared?
If he was going to kill me, he wouldn’t have shown up at the bar, introduced himself to my friends where they got a good look at him—especially Stephanie—and could describe him to a police sketch artist. He would have made contact with me at my apartment or any other time of day when I was alone if he wanted to go incognito. The longer I stayed with my friends, the safer I’d be, although the more in danger they became. I didn’t know what Nick had planned and it shouldn’t involve my karate friends.
“We should go,” I said, giving Nick a quick glance over my shoulder.
He nodded and stepped back enough to allow me to stand. I dreaded leaving with him, but I couldn’t let my friends continue their questions either, nor make them potential targets. The stool slid easily across the dusty floor littered with broken peanut shells.
“I’d forgotten about meeting up with Nick.” I shook my head as if I were an idiot, running a hand over my hair. “Sorry, guys. We’ve got plans.”
I grabbed my gym bag off the floor then hoped to skirt past Nick. He was fast and I was stupid to think he’d let me go anywhere without him. Nick slung his arm round my waist before I made it two feet, in a casual way that indicated familiarity, not like a guy holding me prisoner. His palm felt warm against my side and his fingers gave a little squeeze, as if he could read my mind.
“You sure you’re okay?” Zach asked as he stood to block our exit, eyeing Nick carefully.
“Zach, right?” Nick said, his voice casual and relaxed, although I knew he was anything but. His body radiated heat like a furnace in the winter. “Anna told me about your sister’s wedding. Congratulations.”
Wow. The man had the gall to talk about the wedding he’d crashed. Zach had been right there the whole time and he didn’t even know. Of course, the woman in purple had been a distraction. Nick was unbelievably confident in himself, cocky even, knew just what to say to put people at ease, to get them to do what he wanted. Including me. He’d gotten me to do just as he wanted, to leave with him without incident.
Zach gave a small smile, still a little unsure of Nick, but his tense shoulders relaxed. Nick’s words must have appeased him somewhat because he sat back down, opening the path for us to leave.
“Nice meeting you all,” Nick said to the group, then looked down at me. He slid my bag off my shoulder and tossed the strap over his. Hunh. Who knew thugs could be chivalrous? “Ready?”
Hell no. I didn’t want to go off with a virtual stranger whose casual demeanor belied an underlying life of crime. He could easily orchestrate my murder and leave my body in the trunk of a car. Dangerous intent wasn’t what I saw when I glanced at him. Instead, his dark look was heated, filled with arousal. When he looked into my eyes, as if he wanted to gobble me up like a tasty dessert, all I could do was nod. My body wanted something only he seemed able to give me. Whether I wound up dead afterward didn’t seem to make a difference to my libido.
What I didn’t want, no matter what, was the chance of the others ending up dead as well. I gulped down my fear as I gave a little finger wave to my astonished friends and let Nick lead me out of the bar with a hand on the curve of my waist. They’d seen his face so they could describe him to the police and knew I was with him, so there was that thin thread of a lifeline.
The sun hadn’t set yet, but the air was cooler in the tall buildings’ shadows. Nick casually led me down the block, away from the bar, as if we were just like all the others enjoying the warm night. He kept his pace slow to match mine, even with his long legs.
I stopped us by moving out of his hold and turning to face him, forcing the flow of pedestrians to work their way around us. The honking of horns, the chatter of people talking on cell phones filled the humid air.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed, my eyes narrowed.
Nick grinned and his dimple appeared. “What? You didn’t miss me?”
I’d missed his dimple, that was for sure, but it was probably best not to share that. I crossed my arms over my chest. “No, I didn’t miss you,” I said, hoping the acidic tone of my words would make him go away. “I thought you hated my guts.”
He shrugged. “Hate’s such a strong word.” His gaze flicked over me. “I like this look on you.”
I looked down at myself. White T-shirt with the karate school name across the chest, tan cargo shorts and flip-flops. My hair was back in a ponytail, my makeup was minimal. I needed a shower. “Is this more in line to what you think a killer should wear?”
Nick glanced around, not bothered by the people moving past us, but I could see anger flare in his eyes along with the heat. He moved in close so I had to tilt my head back. I wouldn’t retreat and let him think I was scared of him. “We’re not talking about this here.” His voice was quiet, but laced with steel. “Your place is only a few blocks away.”
He took hold of my arm, his touch gentle, but firm. Warm. I felt the zing all the way to my toes. Nick must have felt it too because I saw a little tick in his jaw and a frown mar his brow as he stared at his hand.
“My place? Are you kidding? I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Why not? We’re good together. There’s something between us and you know it.”
True, but there was more going on than just attraction.
“Yeah, a dead body,” I said, my voice only loud enough for him to hear. I rammed my elbow into his stomach. I smiled at Nick’s grunt and the release of his hold. I turned and started to walk off, holding my breath, waiting to be grabbed once again.
“I know where you live. I know where you do karate,” he called out.
His words made me turn around, made my blood run cold.
“My friends know what you look like,” I countered, walking back in front of him.
He stood there so casually with my stupid gym bag over his shoulder. Was he cleaning his fingernails? The rat bastard. “Y
ou say that like it’s a good thing.”
Oh shit. If Stephanie and the guys knew what he looked like, then Nick knew what they looked like, too. It wouldn’t be hard to track them from the gym to their homes and kill them. My only witnesses were in danger and didn’t even know it, and solely from association with me.
“You wouldn’t,” I said, my voice flat as Nick turned into an entirely new threat level.
“Look at me and decide if you think I’m the kind of guy that’s just going to walk away.” His strong brow shadowed his eyes, making him look menacing and deadly serious. Hands on hips, his posture and bearing screamed intense and dominant male. He closed the distance between us. “Let’s go to your apartment and talk.”
I knew nothing about this man other than his nefarious career choice and that my body responded to him instantly and intensely. Both were disastrous to keeping myself out of danger and out of his bed. Nick was pure, unadulterated trouble, but I really had no choice but to take him home with me.
“Fine, but the doorman will know you’re there,” I grumbled.
“Do you really think I’m going to take you home and kill you?” he asked, his brows raised.
“Maybe not in my apartment, but why else would you be here?” I eyed him suspiciously, even though he had carried my bag for me. What man took a woman’s bag, carried it across town for her just so he could kill her?
He didn’t reply, although his teeth ground together. Placing a hand to my waist, he guided me in the direction of my apartment, his body on the street side, keeping me away from the fast-moving traffic.
Of course he knew where I lived. He knew more about me than I did of him, which was practically nothing, and that made him even more dangerous. I let him lead the way, only to prove he knew where he was going.
Hank, the doorman, held the door to the building, greeted me by name.
“This is my friend, Nick Malone. He just came to town,” I told him, making sure he got a good look at Nick so he could describe him to the police, just like my karate friends, if I wound up dead.
Hank shook Nick’s hand. Hank looked stunned I had someone with me, especially a man, but tried not to show it. In all the years Hank had worked for the building, I’d never once had a guest.
“Glad to know she’s got someone like you watching out for her,” Nick told the doorman as he slung his arm over my shoulder once again in a carefree gesture that screamed familiarity. Hank puffed up, pleased by the compliment.
If I wanted to get rid of Nick, now would be the time. I could tell Hank to call the cops, but I didn’t know what Nick could, or would, do if I did so. Like Stephanie and the others at the bar, getting Hank involved might endanger the man.
Asking for help wouldn’t solve anything. Nick, or someone like him, would be back. A doorman wasn’t going to keep Nick away from me. Like Nick had said, he knew where I did karate, probably where I got my dry cleaning and where I got my hair cut. I couldn’t stay in my apartment hidden for the rest of my life. I lingered on that depressing thought as I pushed the button for the elevator.
He held the door and let me enter first and remained quiet on the ride up to my floor. “I need to get my keys,” I said, gesturing to my bag as we stood in front of my door.
He held it out to me, but kept the strap over his shoulder. I pulled the keys from a side pouch, opened the door with fumbling fingers. Nick was the first person I’d ever had in my apartment. It was my sanctuary, my safe place in the world. I let no one in; there had been no reason to do so. Before now.
When I’d first arrived in New York after fleeing San Francisco, buying the apartment had been the first thing I’d done. The building was safe, on a quiet street, and on the opposite side of the country from my ex-husband, father and problems that haunted me. Until now, no one had found me. My escape had been well planned—I’d had forty-two days in jail to do so—and my identity was still solid after all this time. How had Nick done in one week what they’d been unable to accomplish in twelve years? He had my name. Todd and my father didn’t have that big clue and that had kept me safe. Until now.
“Holy shit, were you robbed?” Nick asked from behind me, dropping my gym bag to the floor. He moved into my foyer as he pulled a gun tucked in the back of his jeans and pushed me behind him and back into the hallway.
My heart leapt into my throat at the idea of my personal space being violated. Who would want to rob me? I had nothing of substantial value, only basic electronics like my TV and computer.
“Nick—”
“Stay out there.” His head darted from side to side, his brow creased with the intensity of his focus, taking in his surroundings and ignoring me. He moved on the balls of his feet, his stance tense, but ready. It screamed military.
My apartment was small. Living room, dining room, kitchen combination, bedroom and bathroom. I didn’t need more space; no one came for dinner, no guests slept over to need a spare bedroom. It only took Nick about ten seconds to confirm there weren’t any burglars. He exhaled deeply as he put the gun back. Knowing he was armed made me swallow back the lump of fear that had lodged in my throat. If he wanted to kill me, why was he protecting me from a burglar?
“I wasn’t robbed,” I muttered, stepping through the door. “This is how my place always is.”
Glancing around, I looked at my space through Nick’s eyes. Since the apartment was small, it looked cluttered. My kitchen was modern with a tiny butcher block island, pots and pans hanging from a rack above it. I made a corner of my living room my home office, with a large drafting table covered with papers on one wall, a lower desk positioned in front of a large window held my computer. We were four floors up, above the trees that lined the sidewalk, so the view looked to the office building across the street.
A comfortable arm chair, my couch and TV were wedged into the space that was the dining area; I didn’t need a dining table since it was only me, and I never entertained. Plants dotted small tables; the apartment was bright from many windows and they thrived. Laundry was on the floor—my one weakness—where I’d taken clothes off and left them.
It always looked like a bomb went off, but it was my bomb. My mess. He had no right to make fun of it.
“Are you sure? I mean….” He pointed at me.
I looked down at myself. “What?” I looked…unkempt. The T-shirt was one I wore under my gi top to class, the shorts were several years old, but comfortable. The flip-flops were just a cheap pair from the corner store. I hadn’t had a chance to shower since class earlier.
“You did an hour of karate and you don’t even have one hair out of place. Your makeup is perfect and even your shorts look ironed. Then, I come in here and it looks like a tornado moved through.”
I ran a hand over my hair. It was still sleek and smooth. A little hairspray went a long way to keep those annoying wispy hairs from sticking up every which way. While I felt like a total slob, Nick thought I was tidy. The man was blind.
“I’m not a hoarder. The place isn’t dirty,” I grumbled. “In fact, you’ll find it immaculately clean, beneath the clothes on the floor.” I kicked the sneakers I wore running this morning out of the way. How dare he question how I kept my apartment? The first person I let in complains about my housekeeping. If this was how guests acted, I hadn’t been missing anything all these years.
He held up his hands in defeat, obviously picking up on my don’t fuck with me vibe. “I’m not judging. You should see my place. I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”
I snagged a lavender bra off my armchair and tossed it into my bedroom, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye as I did so. He hadn’t missed my personal indulgence in fine lingerie and I felt the heat of embarrassment. “After spending five years in military school, I’ve earned the right to be messy.”
He arched a brow but didn’t say anything to that, and was smart enough to ignore the bra.
“What’s the deal with .38?” I asked, questioning his gun.
�
�Part of the job,” he answered soberly.
“Moretti hands out firearms as part of new employee orientation?” I asked, one brow raised.
Nick shrugged. “Something like that.”
“Are you planning on shooting me? If you are, that one’s a little loud to be discreet.”
He walked over to my drafting table, casually looked at my work, flipped through some of my sketches, lifted his chocolate gaze to mine. “Maybe I’m going to save you.”
“From the bad guys?” I questioned. “Aren’t you one of them?”
I started picking up laundry, uncomfortable just standing there. He was invading my personal space and it rankled. He had a gun and that was daunting. I could defend myself, but not from bullets.
Nick’s square jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he moved next to my desk, checking out the colored sticky notes on my computer monitor, the white cotton drapes at the window. After a minute, he said, “You’ve done some bad things,” he said, looking out the open window. He didn’t phrase it as a question.
I clenched the clothes piled in my arms, held my breath, felt my heart skip a beat. He knew. Why wouldn’t he? He knew where to find me on a Thursday night. He knew where I lived. Did that mean he knew what I did to David?
He turned to face me, his dark gaze pinning me in place. “Haven’t you?”
You killed him. You killed David. No one’s going to believe your self-defense bullshit. Everyone knows what really happened. The story’s out. I can’t be tied to you. Sign the divorce papers. I can’t be associated with a murderer.
I pushed down Todd’s harsh words from the past, swallowed down my fear that they were coming back to haunt me. I could lie, but it wouldn’t do me any good. I could only infer by his words that he knew the truth. Somehow. I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t escape Nick. He’d find me, wherever I went. What did it matter admitting to him I killed David? Nick wasn’t a saint himself. I took a deep breath. Oh God, he knew.
I bit my lip, nodded.
He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, exhaled, then said, “We’ve both done some bad things. We’re a lot alike.”