by AJ Nuest
Not that he’d done so out of some altruistic sense of generosity. It had been a business decision on his part. A step in Malcolm’s process while he weeded out the viable candidates for his line of work, offered only if and when such assistance was necessary.
A series of faces flashed before her eyes—Charlie, Vivian and that scrawny, wild-eyed kid they’d called X-Ray—and Eden dropped her focus to her lap, cinching her crossed arms over her stomach. Each breath hurt, so she paused a moment to cram the pain back where it belonged. In the past. Where it couldn’t get at her anymore.
Don’t feel…don’t feel… Don’t let it show.
“His actions shouldn’t fool you, though. Malcolm could be a real bastard when the situation called for it.” God, she wanted to stand, to pace. To get the hell out of this house. But Jade wouldn’t do any of those things. That bitch apologized for nothing. So, instead, Eden tugged on the hem of her dress and re-crossed her legs. “Malcolm wasn’t a counselor and didn’t hold any interest in helping those of us who came here work through our problems.” In fact, he preferred his protégés damaged. Distant. The harder their shell, the tougher they were to crack, and the easier they were to train. “A lot of the kids brought too much baggage with them. Were fighting too many demons, so he kicked them out. He said they were a waste of his time and resources, and felt they weren’t worth the effort.”
Not her, though, and the memory of those lost friends had haunted her for three long years while she’d stayed, learning everything she could about the revenge business. The day she’d turned eighteen and Malcolm had handed her the keys to the Chicago office, she’d secretly pledged to search them out, do whatever she could to help them.
Of the ones she’d found, she hadn’t been surprised to learn their lives had been flushed even farther down the crapper. Not after Malcolm had dangled a carrot in front of their faces only so they could be tossed aside, yet again. But the squalor, the drug addictions, the violence. None of those things had mattered to Eden, especially since most of friends she’d found admitted how grateful they were for her assistance.
All, except one. But that still hadn’t stopped her from setting the scales back in balance for Viv, even though Eden had known full well the outcome would ruin the friendship they’d shared.
“By the time Malcolm was ready to retire, there were only three of us left.” She picked a piece of lint from her dress and flicked it aside. “The best of the best. The smartest, the strongest and the three he could mold into anyone he wanted because, by then, we had nothing left to lose.”
Kelly shot to his feet. “Okay, we’re done here.”
One side of Eden’s lips curled in a half-smile as she peered up at his face. Dark fury simmered in the cut of his jaw. His fingers repeatedly clenched and released.
Good. Anger she could deal with. It was as familiar to her as the rain. And if he hated her, hated what she represented, the rest of their time together would be that much easier.
“I’m taking you to the car.” He offered his hand, but she brushed it aside and stood. She wasn’t an invalid and she didn’t need his help.
His nostrils flared as he huffed. “That son of a bitch made you this way, didn’t he? He trolled the streets looking for kids he could manipulate. So he could screw with their heads and turn them into whoever and whatever he wanted.”
Wait, he was angry with Malcolm? No, no, the detective had it all wrong.
Hands on his hips, Kelly rolled his face toward the ceiling. “I swear to God, you’re never setting foot inside this house again. Not ever.” He grabbed her arm and turned her toward the front hall, her heels rapping a quick staccato over the tile as he hurried her out the door and down the front lawn to his car.
“Malcolm never forced me to do anything, Detective.” She tried to jerk her arm from his grip. “The decision to stay was mine. I could’ve left any time I wanted.”
“And do what?” He pulled her up short and wrenched open the passenger side door. “Go back to living on the street? You were fifteen years old, Eden. The guy was a sociopath.”
“Well then, so am I!” She grabbed the top of the door and sneered at him over the tinted window. “That young girl you followed into the lingerie department? Who do you think she works for, Detective? How do you think we met?”
“That’s complete bullshit.” One step forward, and he lowered his face to hers, gritting his teeth. “And if she wanted to quit? If your trainee suddenly decided working for you had been a mistake, you’d just toss her out on her ass?”
The thought nearly brought Eden to her knees. She could never do something so vindictive to Tanner. Not after witnessing the toll Malcolm’s abandonment had taken on her friends.
But Jade would. If Tanner wanted out, Jade would slam the door on her without so much as a backward glance.
Eden boosted her chin. “You bet your ass, I would.”
Kelly froze. A second ticked by before a sardonic chuckle rumbled in his chest. He backed away a step, laughing, the tight fit of his A-shirt hugging each ridge in his torso as he raked his hand through his hair. “Says the woman who stood in the kitchen this morning and insisted I tell her what might happen to Ruby’s body.”
Son of a piss bucket!
He ran his focus up and down the length of her, every inch of her skin tingling under his blistering appraisal. “I don’t know who you think you’re fooling with this major bitchfest you got going, but it ain’t me.” Jerking his thumb toward the car, he glared at her. “In. And don’t test me on this, Eden. Just do us both a favor and get in the car.”
Frustration stretched her nerves so taut, her entire body vibrated. “Fine!”
She dropped to the seat and he slammed the door as soon as she’d tucked her legs inside. Goddamn it, the man was a pain in her ass. Eden tracked his long-legged stride up the lawn. But she was more pissed at herself than she was at him. He’d seen right through her defenses. Which meant she’d either lost her touch or the man was a damn psychic.
He disappeared inside the house and she crossed her arms, staring at the open, vacant doorway. Not five minutes later, he reappeared, her purse clutched in his hand, strode straight for the car and levered his tall frame inside before tossing the bag to her lap.
A slam of the door, he slid the key into the ignition, and they peeled away from the curb.
Edgy silence filled the space between them, and Eden kept her attention fixed on the scenery passing by the side window. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to think, or fight, or discuss anything else about her life. Everything she’d spent the last ten years building was threatening to crumble under her feet. If the guy didn’t get that, she wasn’t going to spend one more ounce of energy trying to explain it.
She was too damn tired. Her heart was broken, and she needed someplace quiet to decompress. The visual of Malcolm’s blood-soaked mattress shoved to the front of her brain, and she shivered, drawing a deep breath through the revulsion and grief.
No matter what, she would not cry in front of Kelly Riordan. A single tear tracked down her cheek, and she brushed it aside. Letting him see her reduced to a sniveling pile of goo was the last thing she needed.
Before the pink and golden hues of the sunset-streaked sky, the lavish sprawl of Malcolm’s neighborhood soon gave way to the smaller, mid-sized homes of Chicago’s western suburbs. High-end boutiques and art galleries transformed into minimarts and parks. The yards shrank, but were still nicely groomed, filled with laughing children playing on swing sets or families erecting fake graveyards in anticipation of their trick-or-treaters.
Eden sighed and moved her gaze to the windshield, ignoring the way Kelly glanced in her direction. Wherever he was taking her didn’t matter. The second they arrived, she was locking herself behind closed doors so she could wrap up in about six blankets and freak out and scream and have whatever the hell tantrum she wanted.
The jig was up now that she’d just become the
sole witness to discover a murder scene. Pretty soon, every cop in the precinct would know her by name. Hell, maybe she should just save them the trouble and post her personal information on the web.
Elbow propped on the middle armrest, Kelly removed his hand from the wheel and dropped it on top of her purse, palm up. Her gaze fell to her lap, and he twiddled his fingers.
What, now he wanted to hold her hand? Absolutely not. Another tear escaped as Eden tightened her crossed arms.
He sighed and brought his hand back to the wheel. “I only said what I did because I’m trying to stand up for you, Eden. The way Smith manipulated you makes me crazy.”
“And that’s exactly the problem, Detective.” Of course, she understood his motives. She’d be an idiot not to, but for him to jump to her defense set a precedent. One she couldn’t rely on. “You’ve conveniently forgotten I manipulate people for a living.”
“Yeah, well, from what you’ve told me, they deserve it.” He shook his head. “There’s a difference.”
Her pulse spiked, and she turned to study the side of his face. Honest to God, the man left her grasping at straws. His consistent need to cast her in a complimentary light made no sense. Why couldn’t he just let them remain on opposite sides of the fence and leave it at that?
A few blocks into a typical suburban neighborhood, he finally slowed near a single-story brick ranch and turned onto the wide blacktopped drive. He hit the button on the remote and pulled into the garage. Another tap, and the door lowered behind them.
Darkness leapt from the corners of the two-car structure. The tools and lawn care gadgets hanging neatly along the back wall cast eerie shadows on the concrete floor. Within the surreal illumination of the overhead light, a gutted motorcycle leaned in its kickstand, an assortment of wrenches and greasy rags discarded near the front wheel.
“Come on.” Kelly spoke quietly and popped open his door. “Let’s get you inside.”
Eden collected her floppy bag off her thighs and crawled from the car. She followed his lead to a side entrance, waiting as he punched a code into the alarm and unlocked the door.
He stepped aside for her to enter, and the aroma of pine-scented cleaner mixed with lemony wood polish tickled her nose as she passed through a small utility room into a large, open space.
Past the closet doors on her right, a slate-tiled floor led to the front door. Tucked in the far right corner waited a spotless kitchen, the stainless steel appliances nestled inside cherry, glass-fronted cabinetry, the quartz countertop breakfast bar banked by four padded wrought-iron stools. To the left of a darkened hallway, plush leather furniture had been arranged before a small stone fireplace and flat-screen TV. A natural wood dining table occupied the area on her left and, opposite the far end, sheer drapes covered a set of sliding glass doors that led to a concrete patio.
Nice. The interior was a perfect example of clean modern lines meets rustic charm. For a safe house, the precinct had sure made it seem like someone’s hom—
She snapped her gaze back to the mantel and her shoulders fell. Oh no… The row of framed photos along the top, the sports magazines stacked on the coffee table and running shoes lying on the floor… Dammit, no, no, no!
A series of beeps sounded behind her as Kelly reactivated the alarm, and she set her jaw, turning to face him. “So, do you bring all of your witnesses to your home?”
“Only the ones who handcuff me to a bed.” He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it to the back of a dining room chair, strolling past her toward the kitchen.
Not funny. A hint of sandalwood trailed behind him, warm and inviting, and she crossed her arms against the frustrating urge to bury her face in his neck. “Why are we here?”
“Two reasons.” Swinging open the refrigerator, he ducked his head inside. One of her brows inched up her forehead over the way his perfect ass hung past the end of the door. God, she wanted to slip her hands inside the worn back pockets of his jeans, skim her fingers down his inner thigh so she could test the tension in that hard muscle.
“First, I need to pack a bag. And, second, I should really get a few hours in the sack before I climb back behind the wheel.” He brought out a bottle of red wine, set it on the counter and began rummaging around inside a drawer.
Fabulous. She was stuck in his house for God knew how long, with the one man who pushed every single one of her buttons. Avoiding him was going to be a nightmare. “Great. Show me to my room and I’ll get out of your hair.”
His bicep bulged against the sleeve of his shirt as he twisted the corkscrew. A pop of the cork, and he opened a cabinet to grab two wineglasses. He poured a healthy amount into each one, snatched them off the counter and then jerked his head, rounding the breakfast bar for the hall. “Right this way.”
She squinted at the broad, easy sway of his shoulders. Uh-uh. That had been way too easy. It didn’t take someone who read signals as well as she did to figure out the guy was up to no good.
Tightening her grip on her bag, she expelled a slow breath and followed him.
He stopped at the room at end of the hallway and nodded toward the open door, waiting for her to enter. She stepped inside and halted.
Oh, no. The black leather headboard on the king-sized bed, the master bath in the corner, the low, sleek furnishings and precise placement of every object in sight…
No way in hell was she sleeping in his room. Least of all, with him.
She turned, propping her hand on her hip. “And where will you be crashing?”
“There’s a pullout sofa in the office down the hall.” He offered her one of the glasses and slanted a shoulder against the doorjamb, one boot crossed over the other, successfully filling the exit top to bottom and side to side.
Okay, fair enough. She scanned the hospital corners and military stretch of the white, down comforter, the ironed creases of the starched white pillowcases. Still, the thought of crawling between the sheets where he usually slept left her uneasy. The entire atmosphere inside the room just contained too much…him. “Why don’t you let me have the pullout? Really, it’s no bother.”
His brows rose, and he nodded, bottom lip jutting forward. “Tell you what. How about I play you for it?”
Oh God, now what? “Excuse me?”
“You know…” He swung his glass around to indicate the room. “Just like at the apartment this morning. Here’s your chance to take a look at whatever you want and tell me everything about myself. You get it right and whatever bed you want is yours.”
Interesting. She brought the glass to her lips for a sip, their eyes locking over the rim as he did the same. And really, really dumb. For God’s sake, she examined people’s habits for a living. Kelly knew that, so what was this really about?
The woodsy sweet flavor of the wine held a cinnamon undertone. Her body warmed as the alcohol hit her empty stomach. A diversion tactic? A way to make her forget about Malcolm and their fight at his house? “And if I lose?”
She wouldn’t, but she never bet on anything without knowing the odds.
The corner of his lips twitched. “Then I decide who sleeps where.”
Ha! Too bad she’d already decided she was done flirting with him.
She dropped her purse on the floor, reached down and slid open the drawer on his nightstand—the one place most folks kept their dirtiest secrets of all. A box of condoms, a tube of lubricant and the latest issue of Penthouse. Yep, standard issue survival pack for any red-blooded male.
“You’re single, but looking.” She slid the drawer closed, pivoted and crossed the room. And based on the neatness of his home and lack of a lock on that drawer, she might as well get another obvious detail out of the way. “No kids.”
Inside the first framed photograph she plucked off the dresser, four young adults posed before a fireplace, the decorative greenery spanning the mantel and thick wreath hanging over their heads setting the shot as a holiday photo op.
Kelly stood se
cond in the line-up, but the family resemblance stamped across the features of the other three removed any guesswork. “You’re the second oldest of four children. Older brother, younger sister…” She ran her thumb over the final Riordan son, a bit shorter than the rest, his gangly physique on the brink of adulthood. “And a baby brother who was an accident.”
A grunt came from the doorway, and Eden smiled, glancing in Kelly’s direction. Snapping her chin up for a double take, she studied his wavy hair, the casual slouch of his clothes and relaxed sexy style. Weird. The guy just didn’t carry the ramrod stiffness that accompanied most cops. That was strange, considering he must’ve trained at an academy and done a few years patrol before advancing.
So what had happened to make him lose those characteristics? What defining elements of Kelly’s life explained that fatal flaw?
Lowering her focus back to the picture, she smirked at the buzzed hair and rigid shoulders of his older brother, set the picture aside and selected another of his entire family during what appeared to be a 4th of July cookout.
Ah, there it was. His father had the same military bearing as Kelly’s older brother, broad chest pulled back at attention, ears sticking out from his super short hair.
His arm was draped over the shoulders of Kelly’s older brother, the two buddies hoisting a beer in the air and, off to the side, Kelly stood beside his mother, sister and baby brother, his smile a little tight around the corners.
She replaced the picture and studied the diplomas and commendations hanging on either side of his dresser mirror—three of which had been signed by the mayor.
Irritation knotted her stomach, and she met Kelly’s eyes in the mirror. The idea he suffered some sort of inadequacy where dear old dad was concerned royally pissed her off. She’d stake her entire career any supposed shortcomings on his part weren’t deserved, but this certainly brought his dogged determination into focus.