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by Lea Griffith

  “What’s going on, Tobias?” she asked.

  He could hear the sounds of her moving and finally the closing and locking of her door. “You’ll have to see it. Nobody but you. I need to be gone when the rest of your people arrive.”

  “I don’t owe you shit, Edwards, remember that. If you’re in trouble, I’ll have to treat you like anybody else,” she said waspishly.

  “You owe me,” he said firmly, not bothering to remind her of exactly why. There were some things that didn’t need to be revisited. The night he’d picked her up bleeding from a severe lashing by a deviant Dominant at Lashes was one he’d never forget. He’d helped her recover and never breathed a word of it to anyone.

  She owed him for his silence once she’d gone back to get her own fair share of flesh from that bastard. Yes, he’d helped her. But she’d broken the law, and if he had to use it to keep himself out of this shit, he damn well would.

  “Fuck you,” she spat, then, “Give me twenty.”

  Tobias walked out and closed the door behind him. Death had the foulest odor and though the woman hadn’t been dead long, the smell of her body was already festering inside the hot hotel room.

  Dante looked up from staring at the ground.

  “Somebody’s coming to help us out with this,” Tobias told him, and took up a position beside the door.

  Dante nodded and answered his ringing phone.

  Savannah Cavanaugh was quick; Tobias would give her that. It took her ten minutes to arrive. She must have come lights and sirens, though she was in her personal car. As soon as she got out of the car, Dante turned, and what passed between them nearly had Tobias rolling his eyes.

  “There’s a dead woman in the hotel room, Savvy. Can you stop with the hostile death stares long enough to help me with this?” Tobias requested sarcastically.

  “You called her?” Dante bit out as he walked back to the door.

  “Only cop I know who asks questions first and arrests later,” Tobias said patiently.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded as if the two men hadn’t been blatantly discussing her.

  “Dead woman. I know who did it, but I need you to work it up and see if you can help me find him before he finds Ruthie,” Tobias urged.

  “Ruthie? Why would anyone want to hurt Ruthie?” she asked as she opened the door and gasped. “Holy fucking hell, this is a massacre. How many bodies?”

  “One,” Dante answered, moving in close on her heels.

  Savannah threw him a nasty look and pulled gloves out of her pocket. “Either of you touch anything?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “Did you check for a pulse?”

  “She’s obviously dead,” Tobias said. “I didn’t have gloves.”

  “What, or who, did this?” she asked as she turned and leveled her best cop stare on Tobias.

  “Vessi Gallo,” Dante responded.

  Tobias nodded agreement.

  “And how do you play into this, Mr. Dixie Mafia?”

  Outrage infused her tone. Tobias winced in sympathy for Dante.

  “I’m just here with him,” Dante said, pointing at Tobias.

  Savannah ignored his reply. “How do you know who did this?”

  “Got his name written all over it,” Tobias said softly. “I’ll give you details later, or better yet,” he said as he threw a narrow-eyed look to Dante, “you can meet up with loverboy here later and ask him.”

  “At the risk of repeating myself, fuck you, Toby. Now how the hell do I know if I let you leave, I’m not letting the people who did this walk away?” she demanded.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. Dante looked all kinds of affronted. Tobias stepped in before anger ruled the moment. “Because I don’t kill innocents and while she might be a hooker, given her apparel and the money on the bedside table, nobody deserved that. And I don’t kill women.”

  She cocked her hip out and Tobias thought for a split second that in spite of her sassy nature and her subversive actions with Jeremiah and Daly, if he weren’t already all in with Ruthie, she could be a woman to pique his interest in long-term relationships. Women hated Savannah Cavanaugh, but there was a depth to the woman that drew men in like flies. He shook his head ruefully. He automatically changed his previous thoughts about her piquing his interest—her mouth was that of a harpy.

  She huffed. “And I know this how?”

  “Because you know me,” he said baldly.

  Dante grunted, which drew Tobias’s gaze. “We finished with the foreplay?” the other man asked, acid dripping from his tone.

  “You screw me over with this, Edwards, I’ll have your balls hanging from my rearview mirror,” she said. To Dante she did nothing more than throw a withering look. “Get gone. Both of you. But stay close to your phones, capisci?”

  Tobias personally thought the use of her Italian as a way to get a dig in at Dante was right on point. It also had him wondering exactly what happened the other night when he’d left Savannah in the middle of a scene to go after Ruthie. He remembered the sparks between the two. Had the scene gone wrong?

  Maybe it was that Dante was crime and Savannah was the law?

  Yeah. Probably that.

  “You ready to go hunting?” he asked Dante.

  “I enjoy a good hunt every now and then,” the other man responded, though his gaze never left Savannah.

  She smirked and turned away. Dante lifted his chin to Tobias and they agreed to meet up at The Underground.

  They made a plan once they met back up, and then they searched through the night, learning nothing from sources on the street. Tobias kept in touch with Jeremiah, keeping him apprised of the situation, and as the black of the night faded into the pinks and oranges of dawn, they continued to look.

  He wasn’t going to stop until he had Gallo’s neck under his hands.

  Chapter 16

  Ruthie woke in a rush, a scream reverberating through her mind. It took her a second to realize it was her own. The bedroom door opened and she stiffened.

  “Ruthie! You okay, doll baby?”

  It was Candace, and if Ruthie’s nose wasn’t deceiving her, Finch had followed his wife to check out the screaming.

  “You good?” he asked quickly.

  Ruthie sat up and pushed her heavy hair off her face, swallowing hard to dispel the bitter taste of bile. She missed Tobias desperately though she’d slept the night through, her mind doing its best to hibernate through trauma.

  “I’m good,” she forced out around a tongue thick with adrenaline and fear.

  “Then I’m out,” Finch said, and she heard his footsteps down the hall.

  Gallo had forced her from sleep. She’d be damned if she’d let him steal anything else from her. Ruthie pushed the covers back and swung her legs off the edge of the bed, making sure she kept the sheet around her because she was naked. She sat there for a few minutes, feeling the bed dip as plumeria wafted across her nostrils.

  Candace’s arm settled on her shoulders, pulling Ruthie close. Ruthie let the other woman soothe her for a moment, then she kissed Candace’s cheek and stood. Sleep still rode her body and it took her a few seconds to push the lethargy away.

  “I’m going to shower. Have you talked to Toby?” Ruthie asked.

  “He won’t be home until later,” Candace replied.

  “Is Hoenig still here?”

  “He is. Why?” Suspicion was in the currents of Candace’s voice.

  “I’m going to paint,” Ruthie stated unequivocally.

  And that’s exactly what she was going to do. If she had to mix her own damn paints and go esoteric, out of the box with her painting, she’d damn well paint crap before she let another minute keep her from her studio.

  Ugliness had happened there. She’d not let it remain.

  “That’s not a good idea, Ruthie,” Candace began.

  Ruthie held up her hand. “It’s the best idea, Candace. I’ll have Hoenig take me, and Tobias can meet me there when hi
s business is finished.”

  The other woman sighed. Loudly. “You know he’s going after the man who hurt you?”

  “I do,” Ruthie replied. And she didn’t like it, but she couldn’t imagine him doing anything else. Who he was bled from his pores. Was she worried? Hell yes. Gallo was the man who’d hurt Tobias—cut him so deeply the scar was a dramatic line across his beautiful face.

  “Okay then. I’ll grab Hoenig, have Finch get in touch with Tobias, and then I’m going home to shower and change. I have a feeling Finch and I will be here through the weekend.”

  “Who’s watching the girls?” Ruthie asked as she entered the bathroom. Candace ran a home for girls. Candace’s home was kind of a last stop before all hope ended and the girls wound up in a system that didn’t care about them on a good day and was unforgiving on a bad one. She was a miracle worker in Ruthie’s estimation. Some of those girls had never known what it was to be loved until they’d gone to Candace.

  “Daly is heading up to spend the weekend. She and Jeremiah said they’d keep watch over my girls. Now get a shower,” Candace urged. “I can smell your impatience from here.”

  Ruthie laughed. Candace wrapped her neck in Saran Wrap to protect her bandages. Ruthie finally got her shower. It was a long one, and she spent most of her time beating back anxiety. Her loss of sight had never bothered her as much as it did this morning.

  If she’d been able to see the monster, she could have fought better. As it was, Gallo’s attack was another reminder of her weakness. And she hated it. How she longed for Tobias’s arms wrapped around her right then! It was a physical ache in her chest.

  She finished, toweled off, and then dried her hair, pulling it into a high ponytail. She called for Candace. When the other woman knocked on the bedroom door, Ruthie called out, “Hey, where’s my overnight bag?”

  Candace chuckled. “Um, well, the overnight bag is in the closet. Your clothes are in the drawers on the right side of the dresser.”

  “What?” To say she was shocked would have been putting it mildly.

  “He had me bring a load of your stuff over and put it up in his dresser,” Candace said, and her smile was in her voice. “Here—let me put a new bandage over your Steri-Strips.”

  Ruthie cocked her head and allowed Candace to do just that, but her proclamation that Tobias had had her put Ruthie’s stuff in his dresser rocked her.

  What did Ruthie say to that? Was she happy? Mad? A little of both. His high-handedness would get him in all kinds of shit with her. She’d agreed to domination in the bedroom, not her entire life.

  Still, the more rational part of her mind reminded her, there was a crazy killer on the loose and it was just like Tobias to make sure she was as close to safety as possible. It would be a huge pain in the ass to lug clothes from her apartment to his house every day.

  Unease skated through her—was he doing this only because of the danger? Or was he actually okay with her sharing his space? It would be a huge step for a man who’d done nothing but push her away until a couple of days ago.

  She shrugged. “Are they color coded?” she asked.

  “Jeans and yoga pants in the bottom drawer—I put in your color labels to separate them. Shirts in the middle drawer and your unmentionables are in the top. Sorry, you’re stuck with red per Tobias’s instructions. Guess he really dug that latex dress from the other night.” Candace snickered and Ruthie flicked her off. “Dresses and shoes are in the closet, also color coded. And can I say you have the most impressive collection of tennis shoes in the history of collections of tennis shoes?” Candace put one more piece of tape over the bandage and stepped away.

  Ruthie nodded and smiled. “You can.”

  “You do—it’s shocking. Okay, get dressed. Hoenig has agreed to transport you to your warehouse. He’ll need to rest soon, though, Ruthie. So Tobias will be taking over for him in a few hours,” Candace informed her.

  “Got it,” Ruthie replied and then got down to dressing. Jeans, a bright yellow graphic T-shirt that pronounced “I Can See Your Soul With My Fingers,” and a pair of a Nike Free Runs completed her outfit. Casual was the way to go.

  Candace clapped her hands lightly. “Oh! I almost forgot. You got a huge package from Vegas yesterday. Filled with paints mixed and labeled. Hoenig can carry them up for you once you get to the warehouse.”

  “My paints!” Ruthie exclaimed, and lifted up a thankful prayer for Vince and Julio. “Where’s my cell phone?” she asked as she began feeling around on the bedside table. She found it and gave the voice command to dial Vince.

  The bedroom door shut and Ruthie knew Candace had left. Vince answered on the second ring.

  “Gorgeous! How’s A-town?” he asked by way of greeting.

  “Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” Ruthie said in a rush. “Oh, Vince, you have no idea how much I appreciate you!”

  “Oh dear, is it that bad?” His deep voice rumbled along the line, concern etched in the tone.

  She laughed and wiped tears from her face. She was a mess. “No, Vin, not bad at all.” She wasn’t going to tell him about Gallo. “But I need to paint and I’m so glad you got the paints mixed for me. I love you dearly!”

  “The love is mutual, dear—” His voice ended abruptly. Ruthie heard a sigh and what sounded like a smack on bare flesh. “Ow, Julio! You know I like it lighter! Yes, I’ll tell her, you brute!” To Ruthie he said, “Julio sends his love too, darling. Now, when can we move to Hotlanta? We miss you dreadfully.”

  Ruthie’s spirit soared. They were two of the most nurturing people she’d ever met and she’d been desolate at the thought of not seeing them several times a week, as was their habit. She’d hoped they’d relocate with her, or at least closer to her, as they’d been tossing around leaving Vegas for a while. “You want to move here?”

  Her excitement had Vince laughing. “We miss our darling girl. And Atlanta is quite the hotbed now, isn’t it? Yes, we’ve already put a bid in on a house in Buckhead. We’ll know something in a few days. Julio and I knew once you returned to Tobias, you wouldn’t be coming back to Vegas.”

  “Tell Julio I love him. And Vince, if the house falls through, you can stay at my apartment above The Underground until something comes along. Jeremiah would love it!”

  Vince groaned sexually. “Your brother, the sex god of my dreams?” He grunted and then, “Damn it, Julio, you know my eyes are only for you. As well as other parts…”

  Ruthie guffawed. This was what she’d needed. If she couldn’t have Tobias, she had her friends, and thank God for them.

  “Darling girl, I’ll touch base with you after Julio and I chat and we know more about the offer we placed. Julio has already lined up an audition at the Atlanta Ballet. Things are lining up. We can’t be away from our girl for long!”

  They talked for a few more minutes and then hung up with the assurance that they’d talk again as soon as Vince and Julio knew something concrete. Ruthie felt infinitely better after talking to Vince.

  And now she was ready to paint. An hour later found her in the same space she’d left nearly broken yesterday.

  “It’s been cleaned, Ruthie,” Hoenig reported. “The cleaners just left. There are new locks, and I’ve already added the new key to your ring. I’m going to the second level to keep watch. The lower level’s doors are locked and I’m going to lock you up here. Here’s your walking stick, and your box of paints is beside the workbench. No one is getting past me, Ruthie. It’s important you understand that, okay?”

  Ruthie’s hands wrapped around the cold titanium of her walking stick and she placed it carefully on her custom workbench. “I hear you,” she said softly.

  So many precautions.

  Her painting called to her soul. She needed to fly, to lose herself in her art and forget yesterday had ever happened. The sun was high today, and her skin warmed as she stood in front of her windows. She’d worried that the memory of yesterday would taint her brand-new studio, but the space didn’t feel malevol
ent.

  Maybe she was simply refusing to let it.

  “I will knock twice and call out before I enter. I have strict instructions not to bother you. Keep your phone close, because I’ve heard you sometimes lose yourself in your painting and you don’t always hear things around you. The tone on your phone will be startling, but I may need your attention quickly, yeah?”

  Ruthie nodded, accepting his help even as she hated the need for it. “I’ve got it,” she said with a smile. “Now shoo, and let me paint.”

  He chuckled, and she heard the door lock behind him. Ruthie walked her space, reveling in the feel of the sun on her bare arms. She stayed away from the spot where she’d been attacked, the panic reaching up with clawing hands to rip at her sanity. Skirting that area, she walked her space twice more before she turned to loading her paints into the appropriate slots.

  It was a tedious process to be sure. Vince had carefully labeled her blues, yellows, greens, reds, et cetera and then given descriptions to the colors he’d mixed carefully to her specs—stormy ocean blue, tropical blue, tropical green, evergreen green, sunlight gold, sunlight yellow, and the list went on. He’d mixed over a hundred colors for her and she lovingly set them in their slots.

  Her oil paints were precious to her. And as she completed her task, setting up her brushes and cleaners, a picture began to form in her mind of what she’d paint today—a woman, locked in the throes of ecstasy, mouth agape in pleasure, skin rouged with the marks from her Dom.

  Could she do it justice?

  Ruthie nodded to herself, the picture forming in her mind, and it was with no small amount of chagrin that she noted the woman was her and the marks on her back those Tobias had given her.

  A shrill beep sounded and Ruthie started, hand going to her chest, until she located its source. Her phone.

  “Yes?” she answered hesitantly.

  “Ruthie, there’s a man here, says he’s a potential client. Sol Dinapoli?” Hoenig said suspiciously.

  “Send him in, please, Hoenig. I spoke with him the other day at Jeremiah’s office and promised him a consultation,” Ruthie explained.

  “Sure, Ruthie. But I’m calling Tobias,” he warned.