The Devil She Knows

by Kira Sinclair

  “Then...what? What are you trying to tell me?”

  Dev stalked closer, the heat of his gaze tracking down her body before returning to her eyes. “Rose used me. She told everyone we’d slept together because she knew they would believe it. She wanted out of her marriage, Willow. She was desperately unhappy and too young to see another way to escape the situation she’d landed herself in. Marcus was demanding and domineering.”

  “What?” she squeaked. What was he talking about? Marcus had loved Rose. Sure, he’d been a little possessive of his young wife, but he’d been right to worry that her wild streak wasn’t completely gone.

  She would have known if her sister was being abused. Wouldn’t she?

  “He was stifling her. Telling her where she could go. Who she could see. What she could do. He controlled the money. He controlled everything. She tried to leave him, but he wouldn’t let her go. He found her and dragged her home.”

  “Why didn’t she call the police?” Willow’s anger fell off into a choked whisper. “Or me?”

  “The police couldn’t help. He never laid a hand on her, not even when she kicked him out of their bedroom. And what could you have done? You were a seventeen-year-old kid, Willow, with your own worries and life.”

  “But she’s my sister, Dev. I would have helped her however I could.”

  “Yeah, you would have. Which is probably why she didn’t tell you.” He reached out and ran his thumb along the ridge of her cheekbone. “I knew she had a plan for getting away, I just didn’t realize I featured in it until it was too late. She tried to seduce me. I turned her down flat. By then I’d been knocked silly by you, and there was no way I was going to sleep with your sister.”

  Willow sucked in a harsh breath. Her gaze darted around his face, searching for some proof that he was telling the truth. She wanted to believe him but wasn’t sure that was wise.

  Was she blinded by lust and willing to accept anything the slick-tongued man said?

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was a little preoccupied with trying to figure out where the hell I was going to live. My grandfather kicked me out the minute he heard. Even he didn’t question whether or not it was true. Why would you?”

  “Oh, Dev.” The words came out as a moan. Her chest ached.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “What?”

  “Feel sorry for me. If I’d done things differently—been less like my dad and more like my grandfather—then maybe...” He shook his head. “But I wasn’t. I pulled every stunt I could. I was angry and desperate to prove to everyone I didn’t care what they thought of me.”

  He looked away from her, but not before she caught a glimpse of his pain. The sight of it extinguished any lingering doubts.

  He wandered the room, his movements restless.

  “Everyone expected the worst from me and it was just easier to give them what they wanted. I was too busy thumbing my nose at the world to think about the long-term consequences of what I was doing.”

  “You were a kid.”

  He speared her with the harsh glitter of his gaze. “I was an adult, old enough to know better.”

  She expected him to close the gap, to finish what he’d started last night now that she knew the truth and the past wasn’t a wall standing between them. Instead, he shook his head.

  He turned away from her and headed for the door.

  “Wait. What are you doing?”

  “Leaving.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  He shot her a glance over his shoulder and shifted on his feet. For the first time, Willow realized he was nervous. That shocked her.

  “You deserved the truth. It never occurred to me that you thought I’d left you and gone to her. If I’d known...”

  His mouth twisted. His eyes filled with concern and...regret. He was worried about her. She had family, although her parents had moved to the Georgia coast several years ago for the sunshine and sand. She had friends—several women she counted as close and knew would be there for her if she ever needed them. But she’d been on her own for a very long time—design school, establishing a business and all the sacrifices that went along with it.

  She couldn’t remember the last time someone had been concerned about her.

  “Don’t go,” she found herself saying.

  Dev’s body stilled. The tension that had been tightening his muscles slowly leaked out. The sharp line of his shoulders rounded. With deliberate movements, he turned back to her.

  He stood there, his hard, masculine body framed by the utter femininity of her workroom. She couldn’t stop herself. Her eyes dropped to the ridge pushing hard against his fly. And she remembered. The feel of him against her, inside her. She wanted more.

  Although nothing had changed. Maybe some of their history had been revised, but Dev hadn’t changed. Not really. Instinctively, she knew that he was still a loner. Sinful. Dangerous. And he could still hurt her.

  But she couldn’t let him go. Maybe this was her chance to discover her own sensuality. To let him show her just how desirable she could be. To revel in the buzz of electricity that snapped between them. She’d never felt that with anyone else.

  Unlike before, she had no girlish notions about what was happening. This was about right now and nothing more.

  She realized she was staring at his straining fly, hunger and heat crashing through her. Her face flushed. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his, licking her lips.

  Dev’s sharp intake of breath and the pressing weight of his gaze pinned her to the floor. She wasn’t sure she could have walked away even if she’d wanted to.

  With sinewy grace, he pushed away from the door and stalked closer. He looked down into her upturned face. His eyes were dark and this close she could see the emotions roiling beneath the surface, ones she knew instinctively he wanted to keep in check.

  Slowly, he reached for her, running a single finger over the curve of her jaw.

  “This is your chance to tell me to get lost. Tonight there are no masks, no past, nothing to hide behind. Just me and you and the craving that’s always been there between us.”

  Two nights ago she’d made a reckless decision and done something foolish, let this man into her bed and her body. She could tell herself that if she’d known who he was, she never would have let him touch her.

  But today her body called her ten kinds of liar.

  “I’m sorry.” The apology slipped out before she even knew she was going to say it.

  He didn’t pretend ignorance. “You keep saying that, but you’ve done nothing to apologize for.”

  “Maybe not, but I feel responsible.”

  “For something your sister did ten years ago?”

  “For believing the worst of you for ten years.”

  His lips twitched, not with humor but with surprise.

  “That apology I’ll accept.”

  The pad of his thumb traveled softly across her skin, gliding over her bottom lip and pulling it open. “But I’d rather have something else from you.”

  8

  ONCE AGAIN DEV was following Willow as she walked into her house. Only tonight there was nothing between them but overwhelming need.

  Her hips swayed and she threw him a glance over her shoulder to make sure he was still there. Dev could read the hesitation that still lingered beneath the heat. It bothered him, but he had no idea what to do about it.

  The realization that telling her the truth about the past hadn’t dislodged whatever concerns she had about this made his stomach tighten. But not enough for him to put a stop to what was going to happen.

  He wanted to touch her again...more than he wanted to breathe.

  So he’d take what she was willing to give him and worry about the rest lat
er.

  He followed her inside. Just like that first night, he didn’t bother to look around her place. Who cared how she decorated? He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. How could she not know just how tempting she was?

  But she didn’t.

  And that only made him want her more. Made him want to show her in every possible way just how sexy and beautiful he found her.

  Instead of heading straight for the stairs, Willow slipped into the kitchen. Light flooded the room. She stopped in the middle of the space. Dev took advantage, slipping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

  She was tall, but he was taller. Even in the heels that she loved, she fit perfectly tucked into his body. Her head rested against his shoulder, at just the right angle so that he could curve around her and find the fragrant spot where her neck and shoulder met.

  The elegant slope of her back pressed to his chest, her rear snuggled around the throbbing erection that was his constant companion when she was near.

  God, she felt so good.

  Which is probably why he didn’t realize that her body was strung tight with tension until his hands slipped over her stomach and up her sides.

  She quivered, but not in response to him. The fine tremor coursing beneath her skin wasn’t a reaction to his touch...it was something else.

  His head—the one residing between his ears instead of beneath his fly—kicked in. “Willow? What’s wrong?”

  Dev took a step away from her, thinking she must have changed her mind, the hesitation he’d sensed finally coming to the forefront.

  But her soft sound of protest and the way she reached behind to grab on to him and keep him close told him that wasn’t the case.

  Pulling him with her, Willow took several steps toward the sleek table sitting off to the side of her kitchen. The graceful column of her throat bent, dragging his attention down with her.

  Dev sucked in a hard breath, finally seeing what she’d already noticed. The glossy surface of a photograph reflecting back at him from the center of her kitchen table. No doubt she’d noticed it immediately because this was her home and she’d recognize the slightest detail out of place.

  He’d been too preoccupied with the need to get his hands on her.

  Dammit. Anger swelled hard and fast inside him, blocking out everything else.

  His hands tightened on her waist and he tried to pull her away. Not that a simple photograph could harm her...but the message sprawled across it in bloodred letters definitely could.

  Every muscle in his body tensed for a fight that probably wouldn’t come. There was no way to lash out at whoever had threatened Willow.

  But the single word—whore—wasn’t what really bothered him, not that it wasn’t bad enough. The real problem was the photograph beneath the writing.

  It was from last night. Willow’s head was thrown back against the wall in the darkness of the alley. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open in ecstasy. Several buttons on her shirt hung open, revealing the lacy edge of the bra that matched the panties he still had.

  Her skirt was rucked up around her hips, although nothing was visible, at least not to the camera. His head and shoulders were in the way. Even now the memory of her taste burst across his tongue, making his mouth water for her again.

  But he pushed the response away.

  Someone had watched them.

  Not just watched, but taken pictures. And then broken into Willow’s home to leave her...what? A threat? An admonition? A warning? Against him.

  Grabbing her by the waist, he tried to push her toward the front door. “I’m taking you to my place. I’ll come back and deal with this when you’re safe.”

  “No.”

  She didn’t bother with any further argument, simply dug in her heels and dismissed his request out of hand. That wasn’t going to work for him.

  “Whoever did this could still be in the house, Willow. Please.”

  Slowly, she turned to face him, putting her back to the sickening message. Instead of the fear that he’d expected to see, her eyes were full of righteous anger and a bone-deep determination.

  “I wish they were still here so I could smack the bejesus out of whoever thought this was funny.”

  Pointing behind her, he said, “That’s not a joke.”

  Whatever it was, a prank wasn’t even in the galaxy of possibilities.

  Stepping around him, Willow reached for the phone and dialed a number. She said, “Sheriff Grant please. This is Willow Portis and I need to report someone’s broken into my home. No, nothing’s been taken. At least not that I’ve noticed yet.” She listened for several seconds before nodding her head in a short, quick motion. “Thanks. I’ll be waiting.”

  “No, you won’t. Call back and tell Grant to meet us at my house.”

  Her soft, lush lips pulled into a tight frown. She glared at him. “I’m not going anywhere, Dev. The sheriff’s going to want to take a look around. If you want to leave, feel free.”

  No way in hell. “I’ll wait for him, then. I want you out of here. Someone broke into your house and left you a threat.”

  It was her turn to point. “That’s hardly a threat.”

  Dev’s eyebrows slammed down over his eyes. Frustration and fear churned into a poisonous mix in the pit of his stomach. His hands clenched into useless fists at his sides. Why was she being so damn stubborn?

  “It sure as hell isn’t an invitation to a tea party.”

  A sound wheezed out of her throat, a combination of anxiety and laughter. Her shoulders finally slumped, losing that ramrod stiffness. It had been just as much of a disguise as the mask she’d worn a couple of days ago, a comfortable facade hiding the worry she was feeling.

  Dev wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, but he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate the gesture so he held back.

  “No, I don’t suppose it is,” she said. “I never liked tea much, anyway. More of a coffee girl.”

  He wanted to argue further, but the sound of a siren in the distance made the point moot. Damn, Grant was fast.

  Turning on her heel, Willow headed to the front door to wait for him. The police cruiser sped down the street, painting the neighborhood with revolving red and blue. The effect was as sure as a stone being dropped into water. The ripple of doors opening down the street in the wake of the car as it shot past was inevitable.

  Willow groaned and slumped against the frame of her open front door. “Great, something else for everyone to gossip about. Why did he have to use the siren? I’m fine.”

  There was no love lost between Dev and Sheriff Grant. There’d been a time when Grant had ridden his ass, popping up in a constant quest to find something damning—drugs, open alcohol containers, proof that he was no better than his father.

  Dev had resented the assumption and the constant scrutiny. At the moment, though, he had to grudgingly admit that the man was good at his job. He appreciated that Grant hadn’t wasted any time getting over here. The sooner this was settled the sooner he could get Willow away from danger.

  Grant stepped from his vehicle, turning off the siren but leaving the lights whirling. He looked Dev up and down, his mouth pulling into a forbidding frown.

  “Warwick.” How could one word be infused with so much animosity?

  But Dev refused to rise to the bait. He was no longer a rebellious twenty-year-old, bent on breaking every rule. And he needed Grant to do his job right now more than he needed an argument.

  “Sheriff.” Dev held out his hand. “I appreciate you getting here so quickly. I tried to convince Willow to leave, but she wouldn’t. I don’t think anyone’s still in the house, but we didn’t really check.”

  Something flashed behind the other man’s eyes, but Dev couldn’t quite figure out what it was before it dis
appeared again. Nodding his head in understanding, Grant asked them to wait outside while he looked around the house. Dev was all too happy to oblige, although it did irritate him that Willow didn’t bother to argue with the sheriff when she’d been quick to tell him no when he was the one trying to protect her.

  Drawn by the spectacle, neighbors flooded into Willow’s front yard.

  “Willow, are you all right?”

  “What happened?”

  Dev took a step away from the knot of people forming around her. Most of them ignored him, although several shot him calculating glances, no doubt trying to figure out just what he’d been doing at Willow’s house.

  She smiled, the twist of her lips a little brittle and tired as she assured everyone that she was okay. She’d only mentioned the photograph to Grant. To everyone else she just said her place had been broken in to.

  The response from her neighbors was a mixed bag—horror, indignation and a little apprehension. It was inevitable that they’d go home and check the locks on their own doors twice tonight, wondering if there was a serial burglar and their house would be next.

  Dev didn’t think so. The message on that picture had been for Willow. This was personal.

  But he had no idea why. And that’s probably what bothered him the most. Who would want to hurt Willow? She was the sweetest woman he’d ever met. Everyone in town had to know that she’d do anything for anybody. Hell, he’d already received several warnings against hurting her, some from people he didn’t even know.

  Dev watched as she dealt with everyone, calming fears and reassuring the cluster of people even though she’d been the one to have her sense of security violated.

  “It seems like everyone in the neighborhood is here.” A soft voice sounded at his elbow. Dev’s body jerked. He hadn’t realized anyone was paying any attention to him.

  Glancing down, he was surprised to find Erica Condon next to him. Her posture mirrored his, her focus on the knot of people around Willow just as his had been.

  “It does. Do you live close by?”

  Nodding, she gestured across the street and a couple houses down. “That’s my parents’ house, although it’s mine now. They both died a few years ago.”