He glanced at her, pain slicing through him at that simple statement. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“I wanted to be close to you in case you changed your mind.” She leaned forward, not looking at him, but looking at the ground. “I tried to talk to you a couple of times. I knew the places you frequent . . . the detective told me. I showed up at a few of those places, thinking I could just walk up to you and start a conversation like we were meeting for the first time. I thought, maybe if we started over, maybe everything that happened back home wouldn’t matter. Maybe we could just find our way back to each other.”
It hurt him, not only the innocence of that plan but the sincerity he heard in her voice, the pain that was mingled with it. What had happened to him had destroyed them both, yet she never lost faith.
How amazing was that?
“But you never did.”
“You weren’t ready.”
He nodded, pushing away from the wall and clearing his throat, pushing down the emotion that clogged it like the metaphoric frog.
“Be careful of Hood,” he said as he headed toward the door. “He’s just a user.”
“Ryder . . .”
He left before she could say anything else. His mother used to tell him that once a man made his bed, he had to lie in it.
He’d made his bed. He couldn’t go back now.
Chapter 8
Springfield, Illinois
Mastiff Security Headquarters
“If you could, call down to the tech department and have them send someone up,” Durango said to his new assistant, Heidi something . . .
She nodded, her blond hair bobbing around her face. She smiled at him, that flirty smile that a lot of women adopt when they think it will get them somewhere. He sat back in his chair and gestured for her to go, his eyes moving to the useless computer screen. The damn system had frozen up for the second time this week. He didn’t understand computers, didn’t trust them. Kyle had teased him endlessly about it, telling him his assistants would be more likely to stick around if he’d learn how to use them. But he wasn’t interested until now.
Now it felt like a way of honoring her memory. But it still frustrated him.
“Troubles, brother?”
Durango looked up, surprised not only to see his brother standing just inside his door but his father, Jackson Chamberlain, beside him. A sense of dread washed over Durango. He and his father did not get along, and they hadn’t set eyes on each other since an argument several weeks ago that turned out to be an important alibi for Durango. But he would rather go to jail than be beholden to his father for anything.
“What are you doing here?”
Billy smiled widely. “We came to take you out to lunch.”
“I didn’t know the two of you were in town.”
Jackson glanced at Billy. “Thought you told him we were coming.”
“I thought it would be better as a surprise.” Billy glanced between the two of them, his eyes finally settling on Durango. “We’re worried about you, brother. You’ve got a lot going on in your life right now.”
“I’m a grown man. I can handle my own shit.”
“True. But you don’t have to handle it alone. Besides, I was in Chicago doing some scenes for the show and thought it would be fun for the three of us to get together. We haven’t done that in years.”
“For good reason.”
Durango knew he sounded ungrateful, and he felt bad for that. He walked around the desk and approached his brother, offering him one of those quick bro hugs that people who grew up in Hollywood had perfected. Although Durango left his father and brother’s glamorous lifestyle years ago, the habits it had ingrained in him always managed to come back to the surface whenever they were around. It was one of those things, the whole you can take the boy out of Hollywood, but you can’t take Hollywood out of the boy thing.
“I’m grateful for your concern, Billy, but I don’t want you getting wrapped up in all of my mess.”
“Too late. I’m your brother, so I am wrapped up in it.”
Durango nodded. His assistant came back into the room, her eyes lighting up when she recognized Billy.
“You’re Billy Chamberlain!” she announced like it was news to everyone in the room. But Billy, as humble as ever, just smiled and held out his hand to her. It was a scene Durango had been witness to many, many times. It was normally his father people recognized, but now that Billy’s television show was the top-rated primetime program in the history of his network, his face was more widely recognized than Jackson Chamberlain’s, hard as that might be to believe. As a producer, Jackson was more behind the scenes, less visible now that his romantic exploits were no longer placing him on the front page of every gossip rag published on a weekly basis.
“Heidi,” Durango said, “you should get back to your desk.”
“Oh, yes, sir. I just . . . the tech department said they’d send someone up as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.”
Billy watched her go, jabbing his elbow into Durango’s side. “Pretty little thing. Have you—”
“I don’t sleep with all my employees like you, Billy!”
Billy just laughed. “Like I really believe that.”
Durango sighed, aware that Billy wouldn’t listen to any of his denials because he had this set idea of who Durango was, and nothing would shake it. For that reason, he gestured toward the door and suggested they head out. Better to keep him occupied on other things.
They ended up at a fine dining restaurant downtown, one of those places that was pedestrian compared to the places a man like Jackson Chamberlain was used to patronizing, but nice enough for a simple security executive. When the buzz died down, when all the other customers who recognized the two Chamberlain men stopped coming around—an event that took longer and longer each time Durango went out with Billy—they settled down to a lobster salad and a good bottle of wine.
“Has there been any movement on Kyle’s case?” Jackson asked.
Durango looked at his father, anger surging through him like a spark touching a pool of gasoline.
“You didn’t even know her. Don’t talk like you did.”
Jackson held up his hands, signaling peace. “I was just asking.”
“No.” Durango sat back and picked up his wine glass, savoring the drink with an appreciation that came with abruptly giving up alcohol just two weeks ago. “They’ve ruled me out as a suspect, but that’s all I know.”
“What about the other, the detective?” Billy asked. “They rule you out on her?”
Durango glanced at his father. “I have an alibi for the time of death, but they’re still trying to find a way to charge me with rape.”
“Why rape?”
Durango’s eyes dropped. “They’re desperate to punish me for having a relationship with her.”
“I still can’t believe you were sleeping with the cop investigating you for murder.”
“She wasn’t the one pushing it. It was her partner, Fedor.”
“You should do a background check, find out what you can on him. I bet you could hang him for something,” Jackson suggested.
Again, that familiar anger that always burned in Durango whenever he was near his father flared up.
“What kind of investigator do you think I am? Of course I investigated him, the moment he served a search warrant on my condo!”
Jackson again held up his hands. “Sorry. Just making a suggestion.”
“Yes, well, I learned from the best.”
His father cocked an eyebrow. He knew as well as Durango what he was referring to. Jackson had been investigated by the cops after his first wife, Durango’s mother, had committed suicide. Jackson hired a lawyer who had the lead detective investigated and discovered the man was having an affair with the assistant district attorney who was working the case. He used that information to shut the investigation down before it’d even begun.
As a cop, Durango knew there was
nothing the cops could have charged his father with. His mother took the pills on her own after locking Jackson out of their shared bedroom. But that didn’t stop him from wondering how things might have gone differently if the cops had been able to prove Jackson goaded his wife into taking the pills by telling her she wasn’t brave enough to take her own life.
“Gentlemen,” Billy said, reaching for the wine bottle to pour them all a little more of the deep red brew, “let’s try to be civilized.”
“Not possible,” Jackson commented. “Durango’s never going to see things from my point of view.”
“Me? Have empathy? Like that’s something you were capable of teaching me.”
“The child is supposed to learn from the parent to be someone better, not the same.”
“I am better. I didn’t kill my wife.”
“That’s not what the police thought.”
It was a low blow that cut Durango deeper than he wanted to admit. Even Jackson could see that he’d gone too far. It was written all over his face. But it was too late to take it back.
Durango stood fast enough to knock his chair over, causing a hush to spread over the dining room for a long second as the other patrons turned to see what the commotion was and if it would lead to a little entertainment. But it didn’t. Durango had nothing to say that he hadn’t already said.
“Durango,” Jackson uttered, reaching for his arm. But Durango moved out of his reach long before he even tried.
He walked back to the office, the hurt and anger only building with every step. He’d fought for more than a year to clear his name after his fiancée was murdered. To have his father throw it back in his face that way was the worst insult he could have come up with. His father thought that losing Sarah should have made Durango see what it was like for Jackson to lose the love of his life, to lose Durango’s mother to suicide. But there was a huge difference between the two. Durango hadn’t told Sarah to go out and get herself murdered, to welcome the killer into their home, nor did she hold up her throat to the strangler at Durango’s urging. Jackson had told his wife to take a bottle of pills. He’d looked her in the eye while they were arguing and told her that he didn’t believe she could do it, but that she should. She should kill herself and see what that proved to the world. She died because of his words. Sarah died at the hands of a stranger.
Big difference.
Durango burst through the door of his office, slamming the poor defenseless door against the wall in his wake, needing to express his anger somehow. He didn’t see Gracie sitting behind his desk until the door slammed closed again, the pop of it reverberating through the entire room, making her utter a small scream.
“What are you doing here?”
She picked up her glasses from where she’d set them on his desk while she peered at the computer screen. She wouldn’t meet his eye as she slid them back into place.
“The tech people said they found a virus. I just came up to make sure it’d been cleared and your virus protection was working properly.”
“That’s not your job.”
“I know. I just—”
“You can’t do everything around here, Gracie. You’ve got a job title with a description of your duties. Try sticking to that for a while, okay?”
She hesitated, but then nodded as she slowly got up. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just do your goddamn job!”
Her chin came up defiantly. “I don’t know who pissed you off, but you don’t have to take it out on me!”
“You sure have a lot of gall, talking to me like that.” He glared at her as she moved around the desk, revealing the slim gray skirt she was wearing that hugged her curvy hips in a less frumpy style than her usual attire. “Always telling me what you think of my lifestyle, my behavior, like you’re my wife or something.”
“Oh, God forbid!” she said, crossing herself as she stormed across the room. “I wouldn’t take that role if you paid me!”
“I do pay you, in case you’d forgotten.”
“You do. But not nearly enough for all the crap I put up with around here.”
“You put up with crap? What about this attitude? What happened to the quiet, mousy girl who used to wander around here, the one that looked just like you?”
“I guess she’s gone.”
“Too fucking bad!”
“You know what?” She stopped and turned on her heel just as she’d reached the door, just as she was about to walk out. But now she retraced her steps and stabbed a finger into the air between them. “You’re a real ass these days! You think the whole damn world revolves around you just because you’re grieving. But you know what, buddy? You’re not the only one who lost Kyle! We all lost her.”
“But you weren’t accused of killing her.”
“Maybe not. But that doesn’t give you an excuse to be such a jerk!”
“Then what does?” He grabbed her wrists and pushed her back against the door, holding her still so that she might actually listen to him for once instead of being the one doing all the talking. “Does losing my fiancée to the killer I was hunting and then being put on trial for her murder despite clear evidence that I didn’t do it? Does losing my partner and friend to the same killer and having my condo searched because the cops are too fucking lazy to do their job properly? Does being arrested for the murder of another woman I was sleeping with allow me to be a fucking jerk? Being accused of raping her?”
“Boo hoo!”
Durango stopped, floored by her response. “Boo hoo?” he finally asked. “Did you actually say boo hoo?”
She tugged at his hold on her wrists, that defiance he’d seen on her face so often these past few weeks burning bright in her eyes. He shoved her harder against the door, a part of him determined to show her how strong he was, how determined he was to hold her still. She turned her head up to his, anger joining the fire snapping in her eyes.
“Let me go.”
“Why should I do that?”
She pressed her body up against his in an attempt to force him back. Instead, it just reminded him of what a beautiful, curvaceous woman she was. His body responded with a force that surprised even him, need burning through him with a determination he hadn’t known in a long time. He pushed his hips against hers, trapping her against the door. They were so close that he could feel the heat of her breath as it slipped from between her lips, could feel the movement of her breast against his chest. Her nipples were hard little pebbles that he could feel, her thighs trembling where they were pressed against his.
He’d kissed her once, after Kyle’s funeral, a kiss he hadn’t known he wanted until he took it. He’d thought about it often since then, telling himself it hadn’t mattered, that it was a gesture of gratitude and nothing more. But the memory of it burned in his mind now, the taste of it still fresh on the tip of his tongue. And he wanted it now in a way he’d never wanted a kiss from another woman.
She lifted her chin defiantly, turning her head slightly, almost as if she could read his mind and was determined to keep what he wanted from him. But Durango always took what he wanted no matter what might stand in his way.
He pressed his mouth to hers, feeling the resistance she attempted to put up. But it disappeared after a mere second, her lips parting under his, the tip of her tongue slipping against his lips, moistening his way. He tasted her with a passion that burned hotter than the fire of his hatred for his father. He tasted her with a need that came from a hole deep in his soul, an emptiness that had been there for as long as he could remember. Just touching her seemed to promise fulfillment, a repair of that emptiness. And that created an ache like nothing he’d never known deep in the core of him.
What was it about this woman that she could get to him the way she did? Why did he care what she thought of him? Why did just a few angry words from her lips cause him to stop drinking, to stop acting the fool and actually do something about his situation? Why did he care that she cared? Why did her childish jealousy ov
er his relationship with Detective Hyde make him hurt for her, make him feel like a fool? What was it about Gracie that made him think of her when he was alone in his own head, afraid and grieving, hurting?
What was it about her that made him feel better in those dark moments, that made him think there might be a light at the end of this dark tunnel?
And what was it about this kiss that made it so fucking addictive?
Durango bent his knees even as he pressed his tongue as deep inside of her as he could get it, his hands digging at her skirt trying to pull it up around her hips. He wanted to touch her, wanted to feel the silk of her skin. He wanted to hear her sigh with the pleasure his fingers brought, wanted to taste that pleasure in the moisture of her most private place. He wanted to know once and for all what she hid under these bulky clothes, these frumpy, cheap suits she was always wearing.
Such a beautiful woman, if only . . .
Gracie wrapped her arms around his neck, let him lift her up against the door, to bring her up to his height. He was surprised enough to gasp when his hands moved over her ass and found it unimpeded, uncovered under her thick, wool skirt. A thong with lace around the edges was buried between her perfectly round ass cheeks, the color a mystery to his exploring fingers, but the eroticism of it unmistakable. He traced the length of it with one finger, pressing his finger hard against the center of the moist section that covered that coveted spot. She arched her back, a soft moan slipping from her throat when he did, confirming to him exactly what it was he’d found.
“You are a woman full of surprises,” he whispered huskily against her throat.
She didn’t answer, though he suspected any response would have been sarcastic and caustic. But she was too far gone down that road that only true pleasure can travel.
His hand still pressed high between her legs, he held her tight around the waist with the other and pulled away from the door, carrying her to the small couch stuck in one corner of his office. It was there to give the impression of warmth according to the interior decorator Kyle had hired three years ago. In reality, it was a place for Durango to catch a nap after a long night—those nights once filled with investigations and drunken binges. He set her on the edge and fell to his knees in front of her, pushing that skirt up as high as it would go, jerking her legs up over his shoulders to give him all the access to the center of her as he could take.
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