“Think of Ajax,” he coaxed. “He’s got to be hungry. And thirsty.”
Guilt assailed me. When had I fed him last? I thought it might have been yesterday morning, almost twenty hours ago. I looked down at him, stricken by my carelessness. He depended on me. He had nobody else.
“Don’t go there,” Damon said quickly. “You haven’t neglected him. He’s fine. He adores you. Plus, I brought him a snack.” He held up a to-go box from the diner. “You can give it to him now or climb in and feed him on the way.”
I was too tired to argue, and Ajax deserved a place to sleep tonight. What was left of it. We climbed in. I snarled at Damon’s smug grin, taking the box from him and opening it. Inside were mostly cold scrambled eggs and several sausage patties from the diner. Ajax whined and perked his ears, pawing my leg. I held the box so he could reach it, and he bolted the food as if starving. Even though the reasonable side of me knew that he always ate his food that way, the sappy, guilty side of me recoiled at his obvious hunger and my failure to properly care for him.
Damon pulled up to the valet stand in front of a very fancy, very expensive, and very exclusive boutique hotel. He got out and came around to my side. I’d opened the door, and he offered his hand to help me balance. I took it but when I went to let go, his fingers tightened on mine, holding me fast. His eyes dared me to make a scene. I was tempted but I was also tired, so I didn’t fight.
“C’mon, Ajax,” I called.
Damon gave his keys to the valet and started inside. I thought someone would get in our faces about Ajax, but nobody paid us any attention as we crossed the lobby to the elevator and took it up to the ninth floor. Damon guided me to his suite, waving his key in front of the lock to open it.
Inside, it was just as grand as the lobby. We walked into a sitting room with plush leather furniture and steel, marble-topped tables. It looked very modern yet comfortable and warm. There was a small kitchenette off to the side and a half bath. On the other side was the bedroom.
Damon took me inside. A king-sized bed dominated the room. Ajax jumped up on it and lay down like he owned the place. Good dog.
“Shower’s in there,” Damon said, pointing. “There’s a robe for you to put on when you’re done. Take your time.”
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Six o’clock. “I have to be back at the shop in two hours to meet the detectives.” I bit my lower lip as a tide of anger and loss and hurt crested over me. I was tired and my defenses were down.
I hadn’t felt this low in a long time. This helpless, this wounded. I’d learned to armor myself against my mother’s—Aunty Mommy’s—attacks. I knew where she’d strike, and I was always prepared.
Having Lorraine, Stacey, and Jen in my corner helped, even when I had to protect them. But the attack on my home and business? I’d been blindsided. I’d been floating on a high of success and freedom, and I didn’t even know that this kind of vicious and malicious attack was even a possibility. It struck me hard and deep, and I felt like I was bleeding and didn’t know how to make it stop.
I wanted to blame Damon or Mason, but they hadn’t ripped apart everything I owned. Someone else had and I dearly wanted to make whoever it was pay.
“I’ll get you there; don’t worry.”
“Okay.”
I waited for him to leave. He looked undecided then went to the dresser and drew out a gray short-sleeved shirt and handed it to me. It was soft, almost like silk.
“You can put that on for now if you want more than a robe.” His voice had developed a gruff edge.
“You may not get it back.” I rubbed it against my cheek. “I might never take it off.”
“I can live with that.”
The harshness in his voice made me look up. He was staring at my lips. If he hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have noticed they were dry and licked them, but he was and I did. His gaze rose to mine. His eyes burned.
“I should go.”
I nodded. “I should shower.”
Neither one of us moved. Then slowly and ever so gently, he bent and touched his lips to mine. The brush of his tongue was feather light. Gradually he pressed closer. The only place we touched was our mouths, and between us the air heated, wrapping me in aching flames. I tipped my head to give him better access, and his tongue swept against mine, worshipping and then teasing, then demanding.
Little pops of desire burst all over my skin, and I wanted to rub against his hard warmth and let him stroke me and soothe the ache his kiss caused. I refused to think about why he was kissing me. At the moment I didn’t care. I just wanted that connection, that sense of being wanted. I wanted not to feel so alone.
He pulled back. I bit back a sound of complaint, glad to see I wasn’t the only one breathing hard.
“If I don’t go now, you aren’t showering alone.”
It wasn’t a question, but it felt like one. Part of me wanted to tell him to stay, wanted him to fulfill the delicious promises his mouth and eyes made. But I wasn’t a casual sort of girl, and what I knew about him would fit in a tuna can. Plus, I still didn’t trust him. Plus, he worked for Mason, and that was bound to put us at odds.
I gave a faint shake of my head. Damon heaved a sigh and nodded.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Regret filled me as I watched him go. I didn’t call him back.
Chapter 24
The shower loosened my muscles and woke me up. If I cried a little for the loss of everything I’d worked for in my life, nobody would ever know.
I borrowed a comb and a hair dryer after wrapping myself in the fluffy robe. When I came out of the bathroom, Ajax sat up on the bed and chuffed at me. I petted him, scratching his chest and then his belly when he flopped over and twisted onto his back and waved his legs in the air.
“Turns out you’re a creampuff,” I said. “I hope the people that who hurt you burn in hell.”
I put Damon’s shirt on. It came down to just above the middle of my thighs. It felt like kitten fur against my skin, and I decided right then and there I wasn’t ever giving it back.
It was only six-thirty, and since I had nothing better to do, I climbed on the bed with Ajax. I snuggled up with him and fell asleep.
Damon woke me with a light hand on my shoulder. “Wake up, Beck,” he said softly. “We need to get going.”
I blinked, my eyes gritty. “Do I smell coffee?”
“With five shots of espresso,” he confirmed.
“I think I love you,” I said, sitting up.
He chuckled. “That was easy. I brought some clothes for you. I think they should fit.”
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Where did you get them at this hour?”
“I’m going to plead the fifth on that one.”
I eyed him narrowly. “What does that mean?”
“It means I may have broken and entered, but I did leave a note and cash to cover the clothes and my unconventional means of shopping.”
“Wow. You made that sound almost like you didn’t just commit a felony.”
“It was for a good cause, though I could stand you walking around in my shirts all day. You look a hell of a lot better in that one than I do.”
A shiver of heat ran through me, and my stomach turned to syrup. I was acutely reminded I was not wearing any underwear. I didn’t know what he was up to with the flirting and the kissing, but there was no doubt it made me feel good. Special. Wanted. I’d never felt those things before, and I hugged the feelings to me, refusing to think about the fact that he had to be manipulating me.
I got up to examine the clothes he’d found. He’d covered all the bases. Jeans, dresses, skirts, underwear, bras, and a variety of tops, plus shorts. I looked at him. “All this? From one store? How did you know my sizes, anyway?”
“I may have visited a couple places, and I stopped at the loft to look at labels.” He pointed to a paper sack. “There’s also a toothbrush, hairbrush, and some other toiletries you might need.”
I shook my head as I looked over the bounty. “This is amazing. Thank you. I mean, wow.”
“My pleasure,” and he actually sounded sincere. “Get dressed. No coffee until you do.”
“Tyrant!” I called as he shut the door behind himself.
He laughed, totally uncowed.
He’d chosen lacy underwear with matching bras. Though I hated bra shopping with a holy passion, he’d managed to find several that fit pretty well. I pulled on a pair of bootcut jeans and a tank top, and then because I couldn’t resist, I put Damon’s shirt on over it. I told myself it was because of how soft it was and had nothing to do with the fact that it was his.
Damon had Ajax’s breakfast ready. The dog pounced on it as soon as I opened the bedroom door. Damon pushed a box of danishes toward me as I came into the little kitchen. “I know you only ate a couple hours ago, but you might want to top off.”
I picked out a cheese danish, nibbling at it as I sucked down my coffee. He watched me, amusement dancing in his eyes. I set aside the cup. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of orange juice and poured me a glass, setting it in front of me.
“I’d have bought you two of those, but I didn’t want you bouncing off the walls.”
I scoffed. “I’ll have you know that I am perfectly able to handle far more high-octane coffee than that little baby cup.”
“It was an extra large.”
“It was barely a sip.”
“You have no blood in your veins, do you? It’s strictly coffee, isn’t it?”
I grinned. “Yep. We should stop for more on the way, don’t you think?”
“Better get going, then, or we’ll be late.” He frowned. “Didn’t the shirts fit?”
“I like this one. It’s soft.”
He gave a lazy smile that was entirely too sexy for my comfort. “My closet is always open.”
I flushed. “Everything else fits okay. Next time I need clothes, I’m sending you out to get them.”
“I thought you women loved shopping for clothing.”
“We women might. This woman realizes they are necessary and enjoys wearing them but isn’t a big fan of the hunt to find them.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he said.
I wished I thought he meant it.
Chapter 25
Ballard and Jeffers beat us to the shop. They got out of their sedan when Damon pulled up. About thirty seconds later, a gray BMW pulled in. Mason parked and unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and approached me, coming to a stop a couple of feet away. Ajax’s hackles rose and I didn’t know if it was because he didn’t like Mason or because I didn’t.
Mason ignored the dog. “I want to apologize.”
“Go ahead.”
His mouth quirked in appreciation. “I’m sorry for my earlier behavior. I am not entitled to give you decrees.”
“And yet why do I get the feeling you’ll keep doing it?”
His smile widened. “Because I like you and I want to know you better. I can’t do that if you’re dead.”
“Dead?” Jeffers interjected, stepping forward.
Mason turned to face the two detectives. “Yes. Did you not tell my niece that the destruction here could have been caused by the same person who murdered my sister?”
Jeffers shot me a suspicious look. “You said you didn’t have any other family.”
“I didn’t, until what, four-thirty this morning?”
I glanced at Damon, who nodded.
“Yes, I’m afraid I surprised Rebecca,” Mason said smoothly. “My sister had left the family and cut all ties. My niece tells me that you wished to know who will inherit my sister’s estate. It seems she left everything to me.”
“You’ve got proof of that?” Jeffers asked.
“I do.”
“We’ll need to see it.”
Mason’s brows rose. “I don’t think so. My sister’s correspondence with me is private.”
“I can get a subpoena.”
“Can you? Well, then. I’ll wait with bated breath for you to serve it.”
Clearly Mason didn’t mind mocking Jeffers, whose face turned red as a hot pepper. Next to Mason’s elegance, he looked rumpled, which didn’t help his Goodwill appearance. I couldn’t judge. He’d been up all night working on my case. I even felt slightly bad for him. Not so much that I didn’t enjoy his embarrassment. He’d been offensive as all hell when questioning me, after all.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked curtly, then without waiting for an answer, “get in the back seat.”
“She’s riding with me,” Mason said.
Before I could tell both of them to fuck off, Damon held out his keys. “Want to borrow my truck?”
“Hell, yes,” I said, snatching them. “I could kiss you for this.”
He brows rose in challenge. “I wouldn’t refuse.”
Why the fuck not? I stepped up close and threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth down to mine. I didn’t go for the peck either. Kissing Damon was right up there with chocolate and bacon. Maybe even higher on the makes-Beck-happy scale, but I wasn’t going to think about it too hard. At the moment I could live without Damon. I couldn’t live without chocolate and bacon. And garlic. If he were any higher on the ladder, I might start believing I couldn’t live without him, and that would be disaster.
I barely noticed him wrapping his arms around me and snugging me tight against him. I got lost in him. I started the kiss, but he took over, taking his time and worshipping me with his lips, tongue, and teeth. I ignored the loudly cleared throats of our audience. Damon didn’t seem all that interested in their irritation either. His hands roamed over my back, and I wanted to purr.
A tap on my shoulder. “Miss Wyatt.” Detective Ballard’s amused voice broke through my haze of delight.
I pulled away, gaze locked with Damon’s. To my utter satisfaction, he looked a little shaken. As in, the earth moved. Maybe he wasn’t indifferent to me after all. The sane voice in my head suggested that if I didn’t want to encourage him, I shouldn’t kiss him anymore. The rest of me told my stick-in-the-mud sane self to shove it.
“Right,” I said, a little bit breathless. My heart was thudding as if I’d run up a steep hill. God but Damon knew how to kiss. “Gotta go take a tour of the Wicked Witch’s lair.”
I stepped out of Damon’s embrace and went to let Ajax into the back seat of the crew cab. I climbed up behind the wheel and started the truck. Damon hadn’t moved. I frowned and rolled down the window.
“Are you coming?”
“If I’m invited,” he said.
I grinned. “Talk like that turns me on. Are you trying to get me to kiss you again?”
“I can only hope.”
He went around and climbed into the front seat. Ajax stood with his front feet on the console, and before Damon could buckle in, the dog hopped into the front seat, turning around on Damon’s lap and flopping down with his forelegs and head dripping into my lap and the rest of him sprawled over the console and onto Damon.
“You seem to be getting a whole lot more comfortable around people,” I said to him, scratching his stomach. He twisted to give me better access. “You also appear to be a bit of an attention whore.”
His doggie smile was entirely unrepentant.
“I don’t think he’s a big fan of the detectives and Mason,” Damon said.
“Neither do I. What does Mason want from me? Wait, no, don’t answer. You’ll either say you don’t know or you’ll give me the party line, and right now I like you so let’s keep it that way for at least a few minutes.”
He waited until I’d pulled onto the road before he spoke. “Mason will protect his family with every last drop of blood in his body.” He paused. “This doesn’t necessarily make him trustworthy.”
I glanced at him. “I wasn’t planning on trusting him.”
He nodded as if to say that was a good idea.
“What do you know
about my mother and when I was born?”
“Most of it, as far as I know. Mason wanted me to have the background before I met you.”
I lifted my brows. “Met? That’s rewriting history a bit, don’t you think?”
“It’s accurate.”
“Right, like Lee Harvey Oswald just meeting JFK.” I made air quotes around “meeting.”
“Bad comparison. They never met.”
I rolled my eyes. “You get my point. Did Mason— Never mind. More of the cone of confidentiality.”
“He did not tell me to kidnap you, though he impressed on me that he thought you could be in danger. I took it upon myself to take you by force. I thought the sooner you were warned, the better.”
“So you tried to kidnap me to help me? That’s … kind of ridiculous.”
“I thought the ends justified the means and—”
“And?”
“Once I saw you, I didn’t want to see harm come to you.”
“Good thing I didn’t have warts all over my face, then.”
He chuckled. “Good thing.”
“What about moving in with me?”
“He wanted you watched, and I wanted to know you. Moving in was the perfect solution.”
“Why didn’t you take me to him when I got so sick with that curse?”
“You’d told me you didn’t want to see him.”
I considered that bit of information. He’d attempted to kidnap me in order to protect me, and then when I was on the verge of dying, he’d not called on Mason, who might have resources to help me. That made about as much sense as scuba diving on horseback. I said so.
He sighed. “It was my next stop if the pool didn’t work. I regretted my decision every second after you vanished into the river.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t call Mason. Unless—” I looked at him again. “Did you think he was the one who’d cursed me?”
“No. The possibility occurred to me, but it’s highly unlikely.”
“I can tell you’re a lawyer. You answer everything but the question. Why didn’t you call him?”
“You didn’t want me to, and I didn’t want to betray your trust any more than I already was by keeping secrets.”
Putting the Fun in Funeral Page 18