by Meghan March
“It’s fine, Dad. My alarm would have every cop in a five-mile radius here if someone were to try to get inside.”
Lies. All lies. And it hurt to tell them to the one man I trusted implicitly.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Positive.”
“Okay. I’ll be getting back to your mother then.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead, like he had so many times. “Love you, baby girl.”
“Love you too. Be safe walking home,” I told him.
“Always. And you make sure you use that revolver I know you’re carrying if you even hear a single noise in that house that you question. We believe strongly in self-defense in the state of Louisiana.”
“Okay. I will.”
My dad strode back toward the street with Chaney leading the way, and I pulled my keys from my purse. My hand shook, and I missed the lock twice before the key slid home.
It was Rix inside. It had to be.
I twisted the handle and pushed the portico door open. One more door to go before I knew the truth.
Except I didn’t have time to open it before it swung inward, and a figure stood in the shadow-darkened doorway.
“You didn’t tell him I was inside. Why’s that, duchess?”
I ignored Rix’s question. “Stop breaking into my house.”
He didn’t move from the shadows. “I guess you don’t want an update on your girl, then.”
Trinity. She was the only reason I should even be speaking to Rix. She was all that mattered.
“What? Tell me.” I hated the thought of her spending another night in some place with those drug-dealing gangbangers.
Rix finally stepped out of the shadows. “I think you’re forgetting who you’re dealing with. You don’t make demands here.”
The menace was back in his tone, and tendrils of fear curled up my spine. I think I’d just made the mistake of treating a tiger like a house cat. But I didn’t care. I forged ahead, secure in my certainty that Rix wouldn’t hurt me.
“What are you gonna do about it? Not help her?”
“Nah, but I just upped my price.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, my narrowed gaze colliding with his. “Your price? What price?”
“I don’t do anything for nothing.”
“You never said you wanted to get paid to get her back. How much?” It truly didn’t matter, because I would pay it. I wasn’t broke.
A predatory smile slid across Rix’s face. “Ah, duchess. So fuckin’ innocent.”
I knew then what he wanted as his price. My cheeks heated, and it wasn’t anger causing the flush.
Rix’s eyes never left my face. “Maybe not so innocent then.”
“That’s extortion,” I whispered.
He lowered his head and spoke low in my ear, his breath sending shivers skating across my skin. “Is it really extortion when you’re hot to pay the price?”
Was I? I couldn’t deny that he fascinated me too, and last night when he’d kissed me I hadn’t been ready to stop. But more? Images of him tossing me over his shoulder, carrying me upstairs, and throwing me down on my bed before he stripped me naked played through my head. All alpha. And good grief, that was hot.
Swallowing against the mouthwatering thoughts, I searched for something to say.
“I’m not hearing a protest,” he taunted.
“If I agree to your price, then what? You’ll get her back quicker?”
Rix lifted his head, but his lips were still achingly close to mine when he spoke. “I’m going to do exactly what I’m doing now.”
“Then why—”
He gripped my hips with both hands, thumbs coasting up and down my belly over the material of my dress.
“Because you need a reason, and I’m giving you one.”
I didn’t follow. “A reason for what?” I whispered.
“For me to be in your bed.”
He lowered his mouth, and his teeth closed over my bottom lip and tugged. I sucked in a shallow breath. When he released it, his tongue slid out and lashed the spot he’d nipped.
“So fucking sweet. And I want it all. That’s my payment, and I can’t wait to collect.” He pulled back a few inches, want and need burned into his features.
I’d done that?
“When?” I asked quietly.
“Whenever I decide.”
He wasn’t waiting for a yes or no answer from me. He’d simply decreed it was happening. Heat licked at my insides, and if he’d told me he’d decided right now, on the rug in my foyer, I might not have protested.
Time for a change in subject. I had to stop thinking this way or I’d be throwing myself at him as shamelessly as those girls the night of the party.
I slipped sideways, stepping out of his hold. I wasn’t kidding myself that he could have kept me where he wanted me, but he let me go.
I glanced down. Oh, great, my overactive nipples had decided to join the party—and the dip in Rix’s gaze told me he hadn’t missed that fact. I crossed my arms over my chest and lifted my chin.
“Update, then?”
Rix crossed his arms, mimicking my posture. “She’s fine.”
The heat running through my body morphed into frustration. “Then why haven’t you gotten her back? This is ridiculous. You act like you’re the king of the damn jungle, but you’re dragging this out for no reason.” I dropped my arms and stalked toward him. “You can break in here and get around my alarm and scare the hell out of me, but you can’t break into some gang house and grab one girl?” Somehow, by the end of my speech I was jabbing my finger into his chest for emphasis.
Rix’s hand was quick, wrapping around mine before I could snatch it back. “Don’t push me, duchess.”
“But this makes no damn sense!” I tugged at his hold, but he didn’t release me.
“Because blood running in the streets isn’t something that’s ever gonna make sense in your world.”
“What are you talking about?” Blood running in the streets didn’t sound good to me.
“All you need to know is that if I run a smash-and-grab, we’re looking at more dead bodies, and I’m trying to keep that from happening.”
“I don’t understand.” My voice was shaky. The last thing I wanted was for Trinity to get caught in some gang crossfire.
“You don’t need to understand. Your girl is a pawn right now. She’s safe, but even in my world, there’s a thing called diplomacy. I’ll work that angle until I can’t. You may not realize it, but I don’t particularly like blood on my hands. Got too much already, and I don’t go out of my way looking for more.”
“But—”
His silver eyes flashed, irritation obvious by the ticking muscle of his jaw. I got the impression that Rix didn’t explain himself to anyone very often, but I didn’t care. I’d have my explanation. This was too important.
“You want her back all in one piece, or are you not too particular about it?”
“That’s a ridiculous question,” I shot back.
“Then we do this my way.”
“Your way is taking too damn long.”
Dropping his arms, Rix backed me into the wall again. “My way is smarter than some snatch-and-grab that could end with her having holes in her body where there were none before.”
“I don’t believe you. I’m pretty sure you’re capable.”
“You’re right. I am. I could have had her home in hours that first night.”
My mouth dropped open, but no sound came out at first. “What?” I yelled, my tone edging into the territory of a screech. Both of my hands shot out and I shoved at his chest. It was completely solid, and Rix didn’t move. “Why? How could you just leave her there?”
Rix’s expression hardened further. “I’m trying to keep this from becoming a war. Innocent blood gets spilled when that shit gets unleashed, and it ain’t what we need right now.”
“A gang war?”
He gave me a short nod before continuing, and I wondered if
he’d said more than he’d intended. “I can’t agree to their demands without losing power and position. So I’m working the angles. Takes a little more time, but I’m gonna get her back without looking weak or starting a fucking bloodbath.”
The reasoning made some sort of strange sense. But I still didn’t like it.
“Work faster. She has to be terrified. I don’t care what you have to do, but you need to get her out, and quick. God only knows what they’ve done to her.” My stomach, which had been tied into knots since Trinity had disappeared, twisted violently.
Rix laid a hand on either side of my face and tilted my head so I was staring directly into his unusual eyes. “You have my word that they haven’t touched her. They don’t want a war any more than I do. And I swear to you, I’ll get her back as soon as I can. But we’re doing it my way. This ain’t your world, duchess, so you’re not callin’ the shots here.”
What could I do, short of calling the police and forcing them to launch a full-scale recovery operation? Rhett would almost certainly believe me when I told him. Maybe. But I believed what Rix said, and I didn’t want to put Trinity at risk.
The cops were not a safe option.
Against all odds, the man in front of me continued to be my best choice.
“Okay, but please hurry.”
Rix’s expression softened a fraction. “You’re lucky I like you, duchess, otherwise those orders wouldn’t fly.” His gaze dropped to my lips. “Fuck. I gotta taste you again.”
I didn’t have time to think or protest before his lips landed on mine. This kiss was slower than the first, almost as if Rix was savoring it. Savoring me.
With a soft moan, I pushed up onto my toes and leaned into him, my arms rising of their own accord to loop around his neck. It was my turn to savor.
I had no idea how long we stood in my foyer, tasting each other with long, lazy strokes, before Rix pulled away again, this time stepping back and letting me go.
“I’m gonna collect sooner rather than later. That’s a promise.”
I’M GONNA COLLECT SOONER RATHER than later. That’s a promise.
Rix’s words haunted me, and I was caught between lying to myself and admitting what I really wanted. This fascination wasn’t healthy, and it absolutely wasn’t normal to hope that someone would break into your house and be waiting for you at night. And yet here I was fascinated and hoping.
Because I want updates about Trinity. That’s why. That’s it. It was at least part of the truth.
Thankfully, today had been a constant stream of buying customers, which might have kept me busy, but didn’t stop me from thinking about Trinity constantly. I was failing at keeping her safe. Should I have gone to the cops? Would this all be a bad memory already?
I faced that decision head-on when Rhett walked in the door of Noble Art. He smiled and nodded at the older woman leaving with a small watercolor by a local artist.
“In the market for some art?” I asked, keeping my tone intentionally light.
“More in the market for the proprietor.” His gaze was direct and intense, just like his words.
I fumbled for a reply. “The proprietor appreciates your interest.”
“That’s a good thing because I’m taking her out tonight. Just wanted to make sure plans hadn’t changed.”
His green eyes were sharp, taking in my every expression. It would be so easy to open my mouth and spill everything. But at what cost?
I’d lost the thread of conversation for a moment. “Nope, plans haven’t changed.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I’ll be ready. Text me or call if something comes up.” I was assuming the cop life meant he had a schedule that he couldn’t always control.
Rhett nodded. “That means you have to give me your number.”
I blinked. I knew he had it already. “But you have it.”
Another slow nod and serious stare. “And I’m not going to use it to call you personally until you give it to me somewhere other than your case file.”
A shard of pain panged my heart at the reminder. There was no way to erase that part of our past. Rhett and I would always be connected by what had happened to me that night.
I forced a smile and turned to my desk to grab a pad of paper and pen. After I’d jotted down my number, I tore off the top sheet and handed it to him. We were starting a new chapter, and what had happened in the past was irrelevant.
“Here you go. Personally from me to you.”
Rhett looked down at the paper, and I wondered if he already had my number memorized before he slipped it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
“I’ll be sure to use it.”
I had nothing to add, so I just smiled. I wasn’t prepared for his next question.
“No employee today either? Did you fire her?”
My heart thudded against my chest. Dammit. The man was a detective, so it wasn’t surprising that he was curious, but I also was terrible at lying. This was my opportunity. My opening. I could tell him everything and ask for help.
Before I could open my mouth, the door opened again and two familiar and welcome faces strolled in. Yve and Lucas Titan.
“Detective Hennessy, you really are everywhere,” Lucas drawled. He extended his arm and the men shook hands.
“How are you, Titan? Mrs. Titan?”
Yve smiled as her eyebrow arched. “I still have a first name, Detective.”
“I recall. I’m glad to see you survived your belated bachelorette party.”
Lucas’s deep laugh filled my gallery. “I sure won’t be forgetting that night anytime soon.”
Yve shot a pointed look at her husband but the chuckle didn’t stop; Lucas’s wry smile only deepened. Rolling her eyes, Yve turned her attention back to me. “I suppose if I invite you to a girls’ night, you might have second thoughts this time.”
I considered for a beat before responding. The alternative was waiting around my empty house at night for an update on Trinity from the man who would break in.
“Not at all. I’m in. Just tell me when and where.”
Yve’s grin was quick and looked lovely on her. She’d been through so much more hell than I had, and I loved seeing her happy. “Good. I’ll text you the details. Now, I’m starving and this guy promised to feed me.”
“I promised to feed you after we picked out a piece to go above the fireplace. I’m making you spend money today, and you’re not going to get out of it by pretending to be hungry now.”
The grin morphed into a playful glare. “I’m not pretending. I’m always hungry.”
I interjected. “By all means, Lucas, please spend some money. I’m happy to take it off your hands.”
Yve’s smile came back. “I guess if I’m going to spend his money anywhere, it might as well be with friends.” She rubbed her hands together. “Okay, let’s do this.”
She strode toward the walls of artwork and began perusing them with an eye toward lightening Lucas’s wallet, which made me one happy gallery owner.
“You’ve got to have more than one fireplace, Lucas. I’m sure you need more than one piece.”
“That’s all up to her. It’s impossible to get her to buy anything for herself, so I have to resort to extreme measures.”
“I’m sure we don’t need to know what those are,” I replied.
“No, you really don’t,” Yve added from across the room, right before she gasped. “This one. This is the one. It’s beautiful.”
I walked toward where Yve was crouching by a painting leaning against the wall. My confusion mounted as her body blocked it. I didn’t lean pieces against the wall; they were all carefully displayed for maximum impact.
I racked my brain for what could have happened. Remy Burton, my other gallery employee, had returned from vacation and been working this morning, but he wasn’t careless either. I’d been so sidetracked I hadn’t even noticed.
Jeez, Valentina, get it together.
Yve
stood and lifted the canvas, bringing it into view.
What. The. Hell.
I stutter-stepped in midstride.
That canvas wasn’t supposed to be here. It was supposed to be in my studio at home, behind another stack of canvases.
And there was only one explanation for how it had gotten here. I was going to kill him.
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Yve whispered, holding the painting up for all of us to see.
A woman reclined on a divan with colorful swaths of silk covering her strategically. Her dark hair hung in long curls, mixing with the vivid colors. I’d painted it months ago and never looked at it again.
Lucas met Yve and paused. “It’s beautiful.” Turning his gaze to me, he said, “We’ll take it.”
“Wha—what?” I stammered.
His eyes narrowed on me before flicking down to the painting and back. “There’s no artist signature. Whose work is it?”
I cursed Rix silently for landing me in this situation. “The artist prefers to remain anonymous, so I can’t share that information.”
Glancing down at the canvas again, Lucas lifted it from Yve’s hands and turned it over. “No price either.”
I’d never considered selling my artwork, and therefore I had never thought to put a price on it. I fought the urge to wring my hands, and instead adopted my cool businesswoman mien and turned for my desk.
“Let me check my catalog. I’m afraid I haven’t committed that one to memory.”
“Do you have any other pieces by the same artist?” Lucas asked.
Shaking my head, I reached with trembling hands for the three-ring binder on my desk containing the details of all the pieces in my studio. “No. The artist provided only the one piece.”
“Well, ask the artist to provide more. The vivid colors and bold technique are exactly what I’d envisioned for the living room, and we’d love to see more.”
“It sure is impressive.”
This comment came from Hennessy, and I kicked myself for momentarily forgetting about his presence.
I flipped through the plastic sheets in my binder, my brain racing for something to say. They wanted to buy my art. Over everything else in my gallery. Stunned didn’t even begin to cover how I was feeling.