Of course, Theo was here, and he was being weird, but there wasn’t anything to be done for that. He got into moods, and she never knew what caused them. But since they’d had sex, he’d been weirder than normal.
It was probably guilt. She felt it too, but she also knew there wasn’t anything to feel guilty about. Her sister was dead. Had been for a decade. She’d spent years coming to terms with Sunny’s death, had run through the stages of grief, stumbling on some, but had made it out the other side. She understood her feelings for things now, but she didn’t necessarily appreciate them.
The cops had never come to talk to her about the men she’d helped kill, and the stress of waiting had her body strung tightly. She didn’t think the knot between her shoulder blades would ever go away, nor the hard lump in her stomach. One would think after so many days, she’d be used to them by now.
But the physical pains of the stress were an ever-present reminder of the situation she found herself in.
As were the dark eyes staring at her from the corner of the bar.
She looked at Theo as she cleared the glasses and wiped off a table. He was sitting in his chair, his body facing hers, gripping an empty shot glass in one hand and a napkin in the other. His face had a look of pure torture on it, yet his eyes were heated.
Like, really fucking hot.
She’d seen that look before, and she knew what it meant.
He wore cargo shorts and a black t-shirt that fit him like a second skin, probably forgoing his suit to blend in with the crowd. One of his legs was propped up on the brass foot rail and showed off just enough thigh to give her a tantalizing glimpse into some shadows that had her licking her lips with the memory of sex.
She straightened and spun around, realizing she wasn’t present anymore. She had a bar to run, and she was getting caught up in fantasies about a man she couldn’t have.
Well, she shouldn’t have. She’d already had him, hadn’t she? And that had opened a whole can of worms she still hadn’t dealt with.
She gathered her things from the table and took them to the bar to drop off. Of course, the sink was on the other side of the bar from Theo, so she stood next to him as she took the glasses off the tray.
“We need to talk.”
His words were hot on her neck, and a shiver passed through her. His breath smelled of scotch, which was odd, and she turned her head to look at him.
His eyes pleaded with hers, inches from her face. His body heat singed her, from him leaning into Dusty, and she couldn’t think.
“My office.” She managed to jerk her head toward the hallway, and Theo spun off the stool, brushing against her as he went. The touch sent tingles everywhere, and she barely managed to tell Bruce she’d be right back.
“Take your time, boss. I loosened him up for you. Dude is strung tight.” Bruce winked at her before turning to yell something to Aaron.
Dusty’s office was a joke. More of a closet than anything, it did have a lock on the door, so they could talk about whatever was on Theo’s mind. Her desk was clear, since having a laptop out on a night like tonight was begging for it to disappear. But her desk also took up most of the space in the office.
When she opened the door, they were practically knee-to-knee, and he leaned over and spun the lock on the doorknob. The entire room smelled of Theo. Just his presence here was almost too much for her, but she took a deep breath and managed a smile.
“What’s up?”
He exhaled, and as he did, his eyes went lazy. They perused her face slowly, before his hand came up around her neck, tugging her into him. Theo leaned his forehead on hers, but instead of kissing her, like she really wanted, he closed his eyes and exhaled again.
“I want so much from you.” His voice was a gravelly pit that she fell wholeheartedly into. Headfirst.
The words themselves could mean anything, but they sent a riot of sensations throughout her body, raking against her like the roughest of material. Whatever he had to say tonight, she wasn’t sure she would recover from it quickly.
She knew enough about herself to know that. Dusty also knew she was crap at self-restraint and would let him do whatever he wanted to right now, as long as it felt good. She knew it would.
And she would gladly pay the consequences later, when he had time to think about what he was doing.
“Take it.”
His hand on the back of her neck tightened, his rough palms abrading her tender skin.
Then his other hand went to her waist and he spun them both around so she was leaning on the desk and he was between her legs.
Reflexively, she wrapped her legs around his slim hips. His eyes were open and boring into hers, but his hands were everywhere. One slipped under her shirt, grabbing a breast, and she hissed out a breath.
Fuck.
His other hand went to his shorts and made quick work of the enclosure, freeing his cock. Dusty licked her lips. She’d never done this here, and the muted noise of her bar was a certain turn-on. Thinking he was going to kiss her, she closed the distance between their mouths, but Theo dropped his head to her breasts, where he’d tugged her shirt up.
His hot mouth clamped down on a nipple, sucking hard. Her ankles crossed and tugged him even closer to her as she felt his hard length probing her entrance. She tugged her panties aside and drew him inside her.
He sheathed himself inside her with a wordless groan, his mouth fastening around her nipple. She was spread and he was curled, their bodies fitting together in an erotic coupling that was older than time itself.
Theo stayed still inside her, and she felt him pulse and throb, the smooth heat of his skin a sultry companion to the cool desk on her backside. When he let go of her breast with his mouth, he buried his face in her neck, suckling, biting, and breathing hard. Then he started moving.
His thrusts were slow, and Dusty gripped him hard with both hands. The flex and pull of his muscles were enough to make her moan. Theo lifted one of her legs, higher than she imagined possible, but it hit some spot inside her that felt amazing, so she allowed the tight stretch, relishing the sensation.
This was different than the other times. He was moving slowly, deliberately, as if he were imprinting himself on her insides.
And she was okay with that. More than okay.
He’d said he wanted so much from her. What exactly did that mean? She was a ball of confusion, even as the ball unfurled itself into an orgasm like nothing she’d ever felt before. The orgasm didn’t straighten anything out, but it did relax the kink between her shoulder blades. As she let out a low moan of appreciation, Theo looked at her and a knowing smirk lit his face.
It made him look fifteen years younger. He stilled inside her again and grunted through the pulses of her orgasm, but when he started moving again, it was hard and fast, and that smirk was still there.
Her legs were still spread wide, and every piston inside her slapped against her clit, rubbed that spot inside, and almost as soon as she came down from the first orgasm, he ratcheted her into another one.
This time, she clung to him as if her life depended on him. It felt like it did, like if she let go, she would fly off into a sensual oblivion. He clung to her, still staring at her eyes as she came again, and then he jerked inside her, his smile having morphed into a grimace of exquisite pain.
Once she’d caught her breath, she managed a rueful laugh. “That wasn’t a lot of talking.” She leaned over to the file cabinet and grabbed a roll of paper towels off the top.
“I’m not husband material.”
“Well, duh.” She watched, a little bit awed, as he moved in the tiny space, yanking the paper towels from her and cleaning her gently before wiping himself off and tucking it back into his shorts. He straightened her skirt, her top, and then he straightened.
“I need more than what we have.” He looked at her then, and his eyes were so tortured and angry, belying the almost tender sex they’d just had. Well, it wasn’t the hate-fuck in her kitchen, anyway. �
�I don’t know how, though. But I need to talk about some stuff.”
“Talking is good.”
A crash sounded through the door, and Dusty recognized the noises of a bar that needed its owner.
“Well, let’s talk tonight. Maybe some more sex?” She wanted to see if she could get him to kiss her. They’d done all that in her office, and he hadn’t kissed her mouth.
“Definitely some more sex.” He stood in the corner of the room. “You leave first. We don’t want people thinking it’s a thing to come back here and fuck on your desk.”
Dusty rolled her eyes. “As if, but whatever.”
She knew she was grinning from ear to ear as she left the office, closing the door behind her. She was so distracted, in fact, that she never noticed Falco standing in the shadows. She only felt something crack the back of her head, and then…
…nothing.
Theo stood in the office space, wondering what the fuck had just happened. Not that he regretted it. As always, it had been amazing. Life-altering, even.
Once again, sinking inside Dusty had changed everything.
He’d meant what he said, but now he wanted it all. But could he have it?
In this office, surrounded by her things, he imagined himself living here, with her, running this bar, and it seemed possible.
A lightness he hadn’t felt in years, maybe ever, filled him, and he actually smiled. He felt his face creak and stretch with a grin, using muscles he didn’t remember having.
Was killing Falco even necessary?
Tonight, he would talk to Dusty. Really talk to her. He’d dress her in baggy sweats and her old bathrobe if that’s what it would take, but he was going to fucking talk to her. Without distractions. Tell her what had happened tonight in the bar. Talk about feelings and shit. Get this out.
Maybe the smile would start to feel natural.
When he walked out of the office, he went to the bar, where Bruce was still tending, patrons starting to taper off. Theo looked around and didn’t see Dusty anywhere, but maybe she was in the bathroom.
“Did you run her off?” Bruce asked as he stood at the sink washing glasses in that quick efficient way bartenders had.
“What do you mean?” Theo felt a tingling at the back of his neck.
“I sent y’all in there, and she didn’t come out.” Bruce suddenly smiled, putting a wet finger to his nose. “I get it! She sent you out first so it didn’t look like anything was going on back there!”
Theo stood. “No. She came out first.” This wasn’t right. “Five minutes ago.”
Bruce froze, his motions suddenly stiff.
“Has anybody been here, asking around about her?” The growl that came from Theo’s throat didn’t surprise him, but it made Bruce’s eyes widen.
“Um, yeah, actually. I told this slimy-looking creep she was off tonight, but he left ten minutes ago.”
Just then, Theo’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket—the telltale buzz of Falco’s text messages. The one Theo had been keeping an eye on, and now Falco somehow knew he was watching.
Let’s relive some memories.
He added an address.
His old apartment building.
“Call Liam. Tell him to go to my old place.” He barked the words, but they sounded shaky, even to himself.
He texted as he started walking out of the bar, bumping into people as he did.
Do you have her? As if he had to ask. Of course he did. And sure enough, a smiley face emoticon was his only answer.
Dusty woke up with a splitting headache. That could have been caused by the crack on her skull, undoubtedly, but it was being made worse by the fact she was strapped to a table with her head hanging off the edge. All the blood rushed to the pounding part of her skull, whooshing in her ears.
Wait.
She was strapped to a table.
Wriggling, Dusty realized her legs were strapped to the legs of the table, and she couldn’t move at all. She was spread wide, her arms outstretched, and her wrists tied to something that had her immobile.
She arched her torso; that was all she could do.
“Fuck, babe, that’s hot. Do that shit again,” a rusty voice sent tentacles of terror racing through her body. She turned her head and it hurt, but she could see Falco leaning against a wall near a door.
The place was abandoned, the walls once painted white, now dulled to a hazy beige color. Spray paint adorned the walls, and broken furniture and papers littered everything. Pictures were spread around on the floor too, in broken frames, as if the former occupants had trashed the place before leaving. Years ago.
A splash of mustard yellow caught her eye, and her gaze managed to focus on one of the pictures. She’d given it to Sunny as a housewarming gift the last time she’d seen her sister.
Sisters, hugging each other, one in a bright-red pullover, one in a mustard-yellow t-shirt.
Both blond. Both grinning from the Easter egg hunt they’d just been in charge of for the community center. Dusty remembered how much fun Sunny had then, watching the kids cheer each time they found an egg and rattled it for the telltale prize inside.
A tear leaked out of her eye, getting lost in her hair.
This was Sunny’s apartment.
Where she’d been killed.
Now, she was here, strapped down exactly like the court testimony had said Sunny was.
About to die.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
So she closed her eyes and pretended she was anywhere else.
The building was condemned now. An ancient building when he’d lived in it, the downfall of the property owner, the brutality that had happened there, all conspired to make it unsellable. Now the county owned it, and it was on a list to be demolished next year.
But right now, it stood vacant.
It had chain-link all around it to keep the vandals out as well as the homeless seeking shelter, but it didn’t take long for Theo to find a cutout in the fence. He let himself in and raced up to his old apartment, his heart lodged firmly in his throat.
The door slammed open, hitting the wall behind it, as Theo crashed in and took in the scene, trying not to cry out.
It was Sunny all over again.
Dusty was strapped to a table, at least clothed, while Falco stood over her with an enormous knife.
“Ah, just in time. Have a seat.” Falco set the knife down and reached for something in his pocket, while Theo took a moment to weigh out his choices.
He could take the fucker. He wasn’t the same wimpy asshole he was ten years ago.
Something must have shown on his face, because Falco pulled a gun out of his belt.
“Does this help? Sit.”
He could take Falco, but not with a gun trained on him. His research told him Falco went to a local gun range every couple of months and wasn’t a shitty shot. In this cramped apartment, he’d be sure to hit Theo, and then what would happen to Dusty?
She was watching silently. No screaming. No begging. But her eyes were pleading with him, for something, but he didn’t know what.
He tried to send her a message with his own eyes, but this whole eye-conversation thing was so deceptive. He knew exactly what he was telling her, stay calm, I’ll get us out of this. But he had no clue if she was getting the message. She was sending him a look so fearful he didn’t know if she could get anything from him through the horror she was no doubt feeling.
So he sat. It was a rickety armchair, one that he hadn’t left. Falco probably found it in another apartment. How long had he been planning this? Why hadn’t Theo known?
He’d been distracted by Dusty. That’s why.
He knew the guys from SEPS would be here sometime, so he had backup on the way. He’d told Bruce to call Liam, told him where to come. Even if they didn’t like him, suspecting him of things, Dusty was the client, and they would save her. Probably leave him to die, but at least they would save her, if he couldn’t.
He would tr
y to save her first.
Falco used zip ties. Easy enough to get out of. Theo tensed his muscles as Falco used them to secure him to the chair, underestimating him, of course. In the last ten years, Theo had put on at least eighty pounds of pure muscle. As Falco cinched the ties tight on his hulking forearms, tying him securely to the arms of the chair, then the legs around his calves, Falco chuckled to himself.
Then he turned his back on Theo.
He still had the gun, so he couldn’t move now, but at some point, Falco would put it down.
He had to.
“I had no idea I’d hurt your feelings so bad.” Falco got to Dusty and turned so they were both in his line of vision. Theo was so angry he could barely see straight.
This was supposed to be his show. In all his planning, and plan Bs and Cs, he hadn’t anticipated a third person in the mix. Certainly not Dusty. In his final plan, he was going to just shoot him on the street, anonymous and clean. None of this was supposed to happen.
Now Falco had the nerve to bring his feelings into it? What did this turtle know about his fucking feelings?
“Hurt my fucking feelings? That’s what you think you did?”
Setting his gun on the table between Dusty’s legs, he pulled the scissors out.
Snip. Snip. Snip. One side of Dusty’s skirt was sliced open, and Theo could see the goosebumps pop up on her smooth, pale skin.
Dusty closed her eyes on a whimper and dropped her head back.
Snip. Snip. Snip. The other side. Falco grabbed his gun, and with the flourish of someone ripping a tablecloth out from under a table full of dishes, he yanked her skirt off. It wasn’t necessary. Falco was playing into their terror. He could have just shoved her skirt up to get at what he wanted, but no. He had to have the snip, snip sounds in the silence of the room.
Theo realized how little time he had. He’d gotten lost in his head for a bit, looking around at the white walls that Sunny had painted, the remnants of her things scattered around, stained and eaten by rats. But when Dusty cried out, he focused.
The Secrets We Keep Page 10