Chase (Wolfe Trilogy, Book 2)

by Flora Dain

  Finally we talk to Joel, still flanked by his two clients. Wayne looks solemn in his best leather jacket and sneakers, his hair carefully brushed. His mom looks tired and drawn, the strain of the past few weeks sharply etched in her face.

  She’s ditched the pink fake-fur and risen to the occasion in a dark coat and leather boots. Her new dignity is touching.

  She smiles at me and holds out her hand. ‘I sure wanna thank you, Mz Dean. I told ’em straight, that man done evil. But you done real good. My boy Luther’s famous now. An’ ain’t nobody gonna call him a liar never again.’

  ‘I’m so pleased for you. But it had very little to do with me, Ms Forman, truly.’ I release her hand.

  All at once I feel a warning touch on my arm. Darnley’s behind me, silent and watchful.

  Her worn face softens as she looks him up and down. ‘You got your minder here again? Sure is sump’n, ain’t he? Now I got some money comin’ I might even git one. If she ever fires you, young man, you come work for me. I sure could use a fine-lookin’ guy like you aroun’ the place.’

  Darnley lowers his eyelids and gives her a barely perceptible nod. ‘Ma’am.’

  She looks pleased as the pair head for the elevator. Darnley sees them off, talking low.

  Joel hangs back, his earnest face still shiny with relief from this entirely unexpected get-out. He lowers his voice. ‘Know what? These past few days, Aaron’s stayed late every night. Worked non-stop. Pulled in a whole bunch of favours to keep this quiet.’ He gestures around him and lowers his voice to a whisper. ‘And after all that, whaddya know? He wipes it off the slate with one phone call.’

  He breaks off as Darnley comes back and holds out his hand, cheeks glowing. ‘Anything else I can ever help you with, sir, it’ll be a pleasure.’

  Darnley grins as he shakes his hand. ‘Doubt I’ll be able to afford you. If news of this ever gets out your fees will hit the roof.’

  Somehow Joel manages to look pompous and pleased both at once. ‘It won’t get out, sir, I can assure you of that,’ he says solemnly. ‘And fees won’t ever be a problem, sir, not for you. Never for you. Dodie would never allow it.’

  He gives me a broad wink. ‘She’s a Wolfe woman too, y’know.’

  At last we’re heading home. I have a lot of questions, but so has he. For some of his questions I don’t have answers. For others I’d sooner not give them.

  What shall I do about Freda’s revelations? Darnley’s been weighed down by guilt most of his life. Now I’m closer to the truth I feel weighed down by his innocence.

  He’s not a killer, never was. But how can I tell him this? I feel Freda may have a point. It may be safest for him to reach it by himself – but how?

  And now, just as we’re back on track, we face a new threat. He’ll be going away. He can’t say when, where or for how long. Fate seems too cruel.

  He’s watching me. I sense he’s been watching me for some time.

  ‘What was all that about? Wolfe women?’ He eyes me suspiciously.

  I manage a breezy smile. ‘No idea. Maybe your father’s big moment went to his head.’ Out of sight I cross my fingers. If Darnley ever finds out I went to see Aaron I’ll never hear the end of it.

  But he’s not done. ‘But why did he come? I don’t get it.’

  ‘You asked him for help, so he changed his mind. That’s so hard?’

  Darnley frowns. ‘For him? Yes, it is. Virtually unknown. When I saw him he near as dammit told me to get lost. What got into him?’

  I stroke his hand. ‘He’s your father, Darnley. Maybe he loves you more than you think.’ I smile. ‘And maybe it’s news to you, but people do change their mind. Even people called Wolfe.’

  He folds my hand in his and we drive the rest of the way in silence

  Indoors I wander into the sitting room while he disappears to summon lunch. When he gets back he opens champagne and we sit by the fire and sip until his look darkens and he says we’ll eat upstairs.

  I’m guessing he’ll want to discuss the legal stuff somewhere private.

  I guess wrong.

  In his room I stand very still.

  The first thing I hear is the click of the lock behind me. The next is his soft laugh as he leads me in for a closer look. I feel his hand on my arm, his thumb moving gently on my skin, setting up a strange sense of urgency all its own as I drink in the scene.

  The drapes are drawn, the lights masked in scarlet gauze. On the floor is a vast purple sheet laid out with small plates and bowls of food, snacks, titbits, and sauces. There’s a wine cooler with champagne, a stack of glasses, and bowls of fruit.

  We’re having a feast.

  It’s getting dark now. The nights close in early this late in the year. Our evening’s started already.

  I dart him a look. ‘What’s all this?’

  His eyes glitter in the dim lighting. Something about his stillness, as much as the elaborate late lunch laid out for us in the haven of his room, makes me shiver. ‘Wolfe Time. We’re still celebrating. You yesterday, me now.’

  I melt into his arms and wind my arms round his neck. ‘You shouldn’t have to organise your own treats.’

  He grins, kissing my neck with soft, light touches of his lips that send tiny shivers all through me. ‘Why not? I always organise my own treats. That way I know I’ll enjoy them.’

  ‘But you know what’s coming. And I don’t.’

  His eyes narrow. ‘I know. That’s what makes it fun.’

  I glance round, puzzled. ‘Wait. No plates?’

  ‘Nope. We’ll have to get creative.’

  First he peels off my clothes. It takes a while as he lingers over each layer to kiss me and fondle me, tweaking my lingerie until I’m burning up with impatience. Soon I’m laughing in protest while he’s growing ever more stern, his touch warm, deliberate and very arousing.

  When I’m fully naked he turns me round to admire the goods and makes me do the same to him. Our skin gleams softly in the dim, lurid glow. Arousal fizzes almost as fiercely as the fresh champagne when we chink glasses. Its sparkle makes me light-headed and instantly horny.

  I quail at the sight of his growing erection, tall and hard against the bronze skin of his taut abdomen. Down below I feel myself pool, primed for a pleasure that may elude me a while if his amused, sardonic look is any sign.

  Now he makes me kneel amongst the dishes of food and he ladles snacks and nibbles onto my breasts and stoops to lick them off, hauling one mayo-laden breast into his mouth and licking smears of sauce from the other, while under his hot, wet tongue I shiver and shriek with excitement.

  Every so often I get to eat too. He obligingly leans back while I smear a tangy syrup onto his thigh and consume it with long, eager sweeps of my tongue. He enjoys this so much I get bolder, planting olives in his folds and daring him to hold still while I search them out with my tongue-tip and my teeth.

  Lunch takes a while.

  Later we bathe. I fill the tub, heady now, tipping in foam and scented oils at random. When I call him in, the dishes in the room beyond are stacked neatly on the trolley and the purple sheet is rolled up for the laundry.

  We finish in the bath, him lying back and me lounging in his arms. He smears me with gel and massages it off and I swivel in his arms and do the same to him. We fuse in long kisses and pull away with soft, lingering touches of our tongues. Soon he simply lies back and I lower myself onto his column and we join lips again.

  I wind my arms round his neck and he holds me tight at the waist, below the water line, and we move to completion in the warm, scented water with slow, tiny movements that bear little relation to the final eruption of pleasure when we come together.

  As water surges over the sides we burst out laughing and when we finally collapse on the bed, cocooned in towels, we’re warm, clean and spent.

  ‘We’re going out later.’

  ‘Mm?’ I lie along him, sleepy as I nestle on his chest.

  ‘Now tell me what’s going on. W
hy did my father turn up today? And what were you talking about?’

  I swallow. ‘Lydia, mostly. And you.’

  ‘Me? Why?’ His scowl is so fierce I smile.

  I kiss his jaw. ‘Why do you think? Because you’re my favourite topic.’ To my relief he drops the subject. He even looks pleased.

  Later we hit the nightspots, arriving in style. The chauffeur and the bling alone would do it for me but Darnley’s calm arrogance instantly sends the maître d’ scuttling in a panic to show us our table. We lean close as we chink glasses and sip and talk idly about Eldon and Billy.

  ‘Do you think he’s OK now? He can get wild, to put it mildly.’ I vividly recall my first meeting with Eldon, when I genuinely thought he meant me harm. It was a scary moment. ‘Do you think Billy’s calmed him down?’

  His expression softens and he runs his finger over the back of my hand, making me shiver. ‘Looks like it. He’s a good kid underneath. She’s good for him.’

  As our eyes lock I sense a new intensity in his look, something dark and carnal. Ignoring the waiter he lifts my hand to his lips and brushes my fingers with a light kiss, and then folds my hand in his, his fingers moving gently over my inner wrist.

  As the waiter refills our glasses the lights dim for a slow number. Darnley leads me onto the floor and pulls me into his arms, breathing into my hair as I put my hand in his. But it’s not my hand he’s after. His finger runs lightly round the tight line of the flashing bracelet, circling the hard little mound of my wristbone with a slow intensity that makes me shiver.

  I glance up at him from under my eyelashes as we move together, perfectly in sync. All at once it becomes an effort to keep the proper distance like we should in this public place. I feel an overwhelming urge to press against him and grind into his hips.

  As we dance close I murmur into his ear. ‘It’s like we’re alone.’

  I feel his breath on my hair. ‘You’d know it if we were. You’d be on your back. Naked.’ His eyes glimmer as he pulls away. ‘Time to go.’

  When we get in he takes my hand and leads me upstairs, the gleam in his eyes both a promise and a warning not to shock the maids. Luckily the house stays quiet and we keep calm long enough to slam the bedroom door and fall against it.

  We tear at each other’s clothes, mine peeling away quickly under his skilled, impatient fingers, his taking longer in my haste. The sight of him, his skin gleaming, his classical erection jutting between us, mine for the tasting, acts on me like wine. I stoop to salute him with a kiss and he seizes my chin and forces me to look up.

  ‘Later,’ he says softly.

  The need in his eyes tugs at me, making me shiver as I straighten up and flow into his arms. I kiss him full on the mouth, slipping my arms around his neck. With a sigh of satisfaction he slides his hands down my flanks, watching my excitement build as his light caresses grow firmer. Soon he’s kneading my breasts and stroking the soft contours of my rear end, all the while holding my gaze, flexing his will.

  ‘Spread for me.’

  Obediently I part my thighs, nervous at first at the wave of energy I feel flowing from him as I do it. With a glimmer of satisfaction he grabs my wrists and plants my hands way over my head, spreading them wide against the door.

  ‘Ow. You’re hurting,’ I whisper.

  He eases his grip a fraction, but his mouth falls on mine and all at once I’m impaled by his hungry kiss, his tongue commanding my surrender in a fusion so sweet I barely breathe. And at the same moment I feel his erection, hard, hot and twitching between us. The powerhouse jutting into my belly shifts and surges right up inside and now I’m doubly impaled, his mouth softer, still urgent, his cock hot and hard, plunging and merciless.

  I yield willingly, filled and glowing, arching to meet him thrust for thrust, all my softness hauling him in, willing him deeper.

  When he comes I can almost feel his heat, almost sense the shudder of relief that engulfs him. It glows in me, too, even though my own orgasm is still seconds away.

  ‘More?’ His slow grin taunts my lateness. He grinds against me, his hard, rippling abdomen granting the mercy I crave and I convulse in his arms, pinned to the door like a butterfly, twitching in ecstasy like some helpless insect.

  Later I wake in the darkness. After the first rush of union we’d lingered, making love until late, then finally fallen asleep. Now I’m warm, still lying in the crook of his arm.

  But something woke me.

  I glance up and see his profile, etched silver in the low light seeping in at the edge of the drapes. He’s lying very still, barely breathing, but there’s a glitter from his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling.

  ‘Darnley?’ I feel a light pressure of his fingers on my arm, where he’s still holding me, but he says nothing. ‘Are you OK?’

  He stiffens. ‘It’s not right. What happened today.’

  I frown. ‘What’s not right? You should be pleased. It’s the best possible outcome, surely?’

  He turns to face me, his eyes glinting in the darkness. ‘Is it, Ella? The Kraik people pay out some money like they always do and it all goes quiet again. You think that’s the best possible outcome?’

  ‘Yes,’ I murmur, puzzled now. ‘It is. Why are you looking at me like that?’

  I see a gleam from his teeth as he grins. ‘Why do you think?’

  ‘Go on, then,’ I say softly. The gleam in his eyes is stronger now, and his touch is sure, his body eager. I fold around him, slick and welcoming as we fuse again.

  But now I have a nagging doubt. Even now, after such a successful day, Kraik still haunts him.

  Will he ever be free of this?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Next day he’s in Washington again. He flies in late and calls to ask me to meet him for dinner. I race to find something slinky and opt for designer pants and a stunning top.

  As we reunite at the bar and finally find our table I’m pleased with the effect as other diners glance up. The approving gleam in his eyes makes me melt.

  Over our meal I learn his business went well, he’s pleased with his day. But when I ask why he lapses into silence. Soon our meal becomes a test of wills as his dark gaze shrivels my appetite.

  ‘You’re not eating.’ But he’s not scolding. He looks pleased.

  ‘You’re putting me off.’ I look at him from under my lashes, and soon we’re leaving the restaurant, security in tow, staff in line to see us off.

  In the car he holds me close. Every so often he finds my mouth. I surrender eagerly as my excitement mounts. In the short walk from the comfort of the car to his front door the sharp cold does nothing to cool me down.

  Indoors all is quiet, the lighting low. The sitting area draws us in with its flickering firelight and a tempting tray of supper left on the side.

  I wonder briefly if he’s planned this and then remind myself he plans everything, even his fun. Now his eager hands make short work of my flimsy top and my pants are swiftly peeled away, leaving only my lingerie-and-heels combo. I feel like a hooker as excitement flares.

  His look sweeps over me as his eyes glitter in the firelight. ‘Wait here. We’ll have a nightcap. I’ll fetch something.’

  I sprawl back on the sofa, splaying my legs and letting the firelight glow on my limbs, biting my lip with excitement.

  When he comes back he’s shed his clothes and slipped into his velour robe. His bare feet pad softly across the floor as he comes in, swinging a champagne bottle and two glasses in one hand. His other is bunched round something rosy and fragrant – fruit. I can smell strawberries. Firelight sparkles on the tiny silver Wolfe logo on his chest.

  He looks stunning and intent, his gaze liquid heat. He walks over, swivels the glasses upright and crushes the strawberries into them. With the same hand he pops the champagne and pours some on top. Pink foam froths over, the liquid gleaming a deep, fragrant rose where the firelight glints through. He passes me one and tops it up from the bottle.

  As we chink glasses I relax
into a lazy, seductive smile.

  He holds my gaze, his glance calm. ‘Now tell me what’s going on.’

  My smile slowly fades. ‘What do you mean?’

  He sits beside me, his jaw tense. ‘You’re keeping something back.’ He takes a long swig of his drink and then sets down his glass. ‘You talked to my parents an awful lot.’

  ‘Only since Lydia’s collapse.’ I hold his gaze. ‘I’m trying to help.’ And I have to do it my own way. ‘I’m trying to find out what happened to you. And to do that I have to find out what happened to them.’

  After a moment he raises his glass. ‘You’re not drinking.’

  I touch my glass to his and keep my voice low. ‘Why can’t you ever trust me? I just wanted to help and I was sure you’d say no. If you must know, I was scared you’d freak too.’

  He eyes me steadily for a moment and then nods. ‘OK, Ella, I believe you. Anyway, I’ve no time to freak.’ He refills his glass. ‘I’m leaving in a week or two. Business.’

  ‘What?’ I stare at him. ‘You could have told me.’

  ‘I am telling you.’

  Touché. I glare at him. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that either. Look, Ella –’

  I spring to my feet and jab my glass down on the side-table. Frothy liquid splashes out and drips onto the rug. My temper flares as the lazy, firelight sex-session I was looking forward to turns into a prickly question-and-answer grilling … and now he’s leaving?

  ‘That’s unfair. You make out I’m deceitful when I’m only trying to help and then you refuse to say where you’re going. Why? I’m not a child. I want to know.’

  Now he’s on his feet too. ‘Calm down. If you’re not a child then stop acting like one. I’d tell you if I could. I’m just trying to keep you safe.’

  I’m shouting now. ‘From what? Safe from what, Darnley? You’re paranoid. Trust takes two.’ Angrily I head for the stairs.

  ‘Ella. Please don’t do this.’

  I ignore him as he calls after me. Something in his voice catches at my heart but I’ve had an emotional overload recently and far more to drink than I should. I slam my door and lean against it, gasping air like I’ve run a race.