The words ran through her head and she took them apart, looking for judgment. She didn’t hear any, so she answered honestly instead of coming out firing and defending. “It’s a way to pay the rent. Decent and respectable, but I’m not sure it says much about who I am or how I got here.”
“I get that.”
She doubted it. “Really?”
“How would you define you?”
That was easy. Dead easy. “As a survivor.” When he didn’t say anything, that defending thing kicked in. “Does my answer offend you?”
“The exact opposite.”
“Really?”
“It sounds pretty damn sexy.”
Tension zipped back into the room. Not the angry kind. No, the let’s-use-this-counter-for-fun-times kind. The force of it whipped her up and shook her. Stunned her and left her stammering. “Oh.”
He nodded. “Really fucking sexy.”
No one had ever told her that before. Sure, a few odd murder-groupie types had found her before she got better at covering her tracks. In the years right after, journalists had pretended to be something else a few times and asked her out as a way to establish contact and build a story.
But being liked for who she was and all she’d overcome was not a sensation she ever got to indulge in. Not even now, because he didn’t know the truth. No one in Annapolis knew.
She fell back on sarcasm because some days it was all she had. “I smell like pie and I think I have a french fry in my hair. Is that the sort of thing that does it for you?”
“Apparently.” He didn’t smile. Didn’t frown. But he looked at her, his gaze dancing over her like he wanted to lick every inch.
Talk about sexy. “I don’t get you at all.”
“You’ve made that clear.”
Still no anger in his voice, and she knew because she listened and searched for it. She knew how to handle that emotion. This, the intensity of his focus and excitement building in her stomach, had her stumbling. “You aren’t telling me much about you that I couldn’t read in an employment file.”
He took a step. “Do you want to know more?”
This close she could see light brown flecks in his otherwise near-black eyes. And interest. She sure saw that. Felt it in every cell as the heat from his body rolled off him and pummeled her.
“It’s too early to tell.” She lifted her arm to pretend to look at a watch then remembered she wasn’t wearing one. When her hand fell back, it landed against his arm. Balanced there.
Her voice sounded all breathy and swoony . . . and that wasn’t weird and embarrassing or anything.
“Would it make a difference if I told you I’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss you from the first time you poured my coffee?”
She almost choked. “Coffee is a thing with you.”
She’d hook him up to an IV if he promised to get on with it.
“Not before meeting you.”
“I think you mentioned a kiss?” She tried to swallow but found that didn’t work either. Her entire body and most of her brain had abandoned her. Nothing settled her jumping nerves.
“That’s the G-rated version of what I want.” He touched her then. Dragged the backs of his fingers over her cheeks in a gentle caress.
“Is there an R-rated version?” Because she really wanted to jump ahead to that one.
He slipped his thumb over her bottom lip. Back and forth. “Fuck yeah.”
She was never going to survive this. “Let’s start with G and see how it goes.”
One second she saw the room behind him and the light above. The next he leaned in, blocking her view of everything, and his mouth covered hers.
He kissed like she knew he’d kiss. With all that power and confidence, he didn’t waste time on little pecks. He swooped in, captured her mouth with his, and her head spun. Lips traveled over lips. The kiss was firm and sure, coaxing and full of promise.
Hell, if this was G-rated she could not imagine what happened when he got his clothes off. But now she wanted to know.
When his tongue slipped over hers, her knees buckled. Strong hands held her while they roamed down her arms and around her shoulders. He touched her, kissed her, surrounded her.
Their breathing mixed and when she nipped at his bottom lip, he groaned. Then he took over again. Pressing his hard body against hers as his mouth crossed over hers again and again. A buzzing sensation filled her head. She craved more. Too much.
In a moment of self-preservation she lifted her head, but the daze wouldn’t clear. “Alrighty then.”
His forehead touched hers as his chest rose and fell on harsh breaths. “Only okay?”
She couldn’t seem to unclench her fingers. She had his shirt balled in her fists. “No.”
“Then we should close up and get out of here.”
That was a terrible idea. Stupid and half dangerous, and she was neither. A kiss shouldn’t turn her head any more than a strong chin did. But she wanted this, for her and just for now. So . . . “Let’s go.”
Chapter 10
Between the kiss and the obvious green light, Matthias’s usual control abandoned him. He pushed back on the search for answers, and concentrated on the need punching inside his gut.
This was about getting laid. Pure and simple. Nothing more. He didn’t seek out danger or have a thing for mysterious women. It had been a while for him, and the attraction to Kayla had been immediate. This was about two people, bodies, heat and a much-needed release.
He silently repeated that mantra even as his brain screamed for him to pull back. He should question her, put the truth out there . . . he should, but every time he opened his mouth to put the brakes on he stopped again. He wanted her with a force that was kicking his ass.
This could be a rare case of putting his needs first. He never took anything for himself. He did what he was supposed to do: got the job done. He found the answers and made the hard calls. Spent hours locked in his office and in strategy meetings. Trained, excelled and thrived. That’s who he was, or who he’d been ever since he trained with Quint and met Wren and the others more than a decade ago. Before that he was on a downward spiral. Since then, he took pride in being rock solid.
He was only in Annapolis now, on Kayla’s trail, out of a sense of loyalty to people he’d never known. He’d vowed to get the proof he needed, write her off as a killer and then turn her over to the police and walk away, but he couldn’t get there.
He’d dealt every single day with murderers and sociopaths who enjoyed hurting others, sometimes within the law and sometimes not. He’d spent his life assessing people and ferreting out liars. She could be one, and he’d looked for her assuming she was one, but that voice inside him said something else was going on here. Something they should talk about . . . but not now. He wasn’t in the mindset to be rational or smart. His usually reliable common sense vanished as he watched her move.
Damn, he wanted her. Here, at her place, in his room, in the inn. Hell, he didn’t care where so long as he got inside her, and soon.
Just as he was about to reach for her again, she turned away. For a second he thought she might kick him out, but she grabbed her keys. She finished closing up while he followed around behind her, forcing his hands to stay at his sides and not touch her.
When she headed to the door that emptied onto the pier he followed there, too. He wasn’t a complete dumbass. When a woman who looked like her, and had the balls to stand up to him like she did, made it clear she wanted sex, he didn’t say no. Problem was he had to fight the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to her place. He doubted she would appreciate being hauled around in front of the people on the dock. He wasn’t an animal—not quite—so he could hold off. For a few seconds.
Good thing getting to her house took less than three minutes. He’d toyed with the idea of checking the place out while she was at work this morning. Garrett insisted there were too many people at the marina to risk it. Said it several times in different
ways.
Matthias finally agreed to hold off, mostly to get Garrett to shut up. But now he’d see inside her apartment. Not that Matthias intended to search it. He had other plans for the next hour.
Somehow he managed not to touch her again during the short walk. He reached for her a few times but pulled back. His steps thudded against the wood as they walked along the pier. The steady clanking of metal against metal rang out as the boats bobbed in the water next to him. The smell of salt and fish wound around him.
He considered himself a city guy. The whole life-on-the-sea thing didn’t make much sense to him. Even now the warm sun beat down on him and sweat had his dress shirt sticking to his lower back. People weaved in and out, some making quick meaningless conversation as they passed.
He quickly discovered he wasn’t really a mindless “hello” kind of guy either. He was barely a sunshine kind of guy. He preferred the secure walls of his office. The quiet of his house.
He spied the boat rental shop before they got there. The two-story white building had a fake run-down look to it, the kind that came when wealthy people tried to make things look quaint. That’s sort of how he felt about Annapolis in general. Nice to visit, if one was the visiting type, which he wasn’t.
She said hello to a few more people while he settled for nodding. For a woman who was supposed to be blending in, she seemed to live her life in the open. People knew her by name, or the one she went by now. Many waved and even more stared. Her being with a guy in a suit appeared to fascinate many.
Matthias had no idea what to think about any of that, so he filed the reactions away to analyze later. But there was no question the idea of her being a recluse and on the run fell apart in his mind. She was sunny and friendly and hot as fuck. Even now as they headed up the stairs that ran along the side of the building he had a front-row seat to that ass. It was even better close up. The way her uniform skimmed her thigh had his brain misfiring. Letting her go first may have been a mistake because all he could think about was those sleek legs wrapped around his waist.
He cleared his throat, tried to act like he’d actually been with a woman before. “How did you find this place?”
She glanced at him as she stopped on the small landing just outside her door. “The café owner also owns this business. She basically owns the marina. Her other renter moved out, so she offered it to me when I took the job.”
“That’s quite a perk.” That would teach him to think excellent training, health insurance and retirement amounted to a good benefits package for his employees.
“I think she was trying to make up for the shocking low pay and high level of responsibility that came with the position. She’s not really in town all that much, so most of the noncooking work falls to me.” Kayla smiled as she turned the key on the first lock. Then she undid the second. Finally she pressed in a number code on the modern lock that looked far too new and impressive for the state of the building and low crime rate in the area.
Now, that was more like it. Triple security. She was either afraid of someone or hiding from something. He wondered if the answer was both.
He was about to point out the redundancy but stopped. The wrongness hit him before she turned the knob.
“Wait a second.” He reached out and put a hand over hers. The keys jangled in her fingers but she didn’t move.
He could feel eyes on him. Not from the curious types like the people in the rental place or some of the guys in the marina who openly gawked as he walked with Kayla. This was a sensation borne from experience. One that came from being hunted.
She looked at his hand where it covered hers then stared up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Not sure.” He inhaled and let instinct take over. He didn’t know where, but he knew it was happening. Someone watched them from a safe distance. Far enough to prevent a physical attack but likely close enough to hit them with a bullet.
“Is this some sort of game?”
“Stop talking.” He needed her to stop talking so he could concentrate.
She jerked her hand away and stepped back as far as the flimsy railing would allow. “Excuse me.”
He didn’t want to look around and tip the watcher off, but he didn’t want her in danger either. With a hand on her elbow, he pulled her toward the door. “Get inside.”
She tried to shirk out of his hold but it didn’t work. “I’m not a fan of bossy men.”
“Now, Kayla.” He pushed on the door with his palm. “I’m not kidding.”
“You better have a good—” Her voice cut off as he shut the door behind them. “Oh, my God.”
He spun around ready to attack and defend. The studio looked as if it had been struck by a cyclone. He could see every inch, including most of the bathroom, since the door stood open. Smashed furniture, ripped cushions. Shredded papers everywhere. Food thrown on the floor and the refrigerator door hanging open. But the worst was the warning written on the wall above the loveseat.
YOUR TURN TO DIE.
“What the fuck?” He stepped closer to investigate. The harsh smell of the spray paint hit him first, then he spotted the can on top of what remained of a pillow.
He sent a quick message to Garrett to get over there and be careful about it. As he finished typing, the quiet stillness behind him had him glancing over his shoulder. Kayla stood there with a gun aimed right at him. He had no idea where she got it or why whoever attacked this place hadn’t taken it. Those were questions for later. Now he needed to calm her down.
“Kayla, what are you doing?” He lifted his arms as he turned to face her. Not because he planned to acquiesce but because she didn’t need another reason to shoot him.
He couldn’t tell her skill level, but she knew how to hold a gun and her arms didn’t shake. None of that made him feel better about the chances of accidentally having his junk blown off.
“I tried to push my doubts aside and just enjoy the night, but . . . I should have known.”
“Kayla.”
“This was you.” Her voice held steady but her eyes were wild.
Forget that the leap of logic didn’t make sense. He didn’t want her mind moving in that direction. “No, I was at the café with you.”
“You came into town and it started all over again.”
“What’s ‘it,’ Kayla? Talk to me.” She hovered on the edge. He could see it in every line of her body. Fear and fury mixed inside her, and her mind had switched to protection. The instinct didn’t worry him. The idea of having a hole blown through him did.
“You know.” She didn’t move the gun around or lose her cool.
Yeah, she’d had training of some kind. That was good news, but verbal responses like that weren’t going to get them anywhere. He needed her to focus on him and believe he could help her. “Someone is after you.”
“You.”
He couldn’t exactly deny that. “I didn’t do this. I would never do this, and I think you know that.”
“How could I? I’ve known you five damn days.”
“True, but you were going to let me touch you. Let me inside you.” Her fingers tightened on the gun, but he kept talking. Maintained the soothing tone as he inched closer without giving away his movements. “There’s a reason for that. Trust that instinct and hear me when I say this wasn’t me.”
The gun didn’t waver but the frantic vibe she was giving off died down a little. “Tell me who you really are.”
He continued to hold his hands up. “Matthias Clarke. Owner of Quint Enterprises. You can look all of that up and—”
“You know what I’m asking.”
There was no way in hell he was telling her the truth right now. Not with a weapon in her hands. “We can talk about this if you lower the gun.”
The last of the crazed fear left her eyes. A desperate sort of calm replaced it. “No way.”
Something had changed. She’d downshifted to a place where she could at least listen, maybe hear reason. He watched the change come ove
r her. The stiffness didn’t ease but the tension whipping through the room had. “I don’t want to argue with you, but I don’t want that going off by accident.”
“I know how to shoot.”
“I’m not sure that makes me feel better.” But it did. If her instructor or whoever taught her had been any good, she knew to keep her finger off the trigger unless she planned on firing. So far she had.
He had two guns and a knife on him but had no intention of bringing any of them out unless absolutely necessary. He needed to disarm her in the least intrusive way and figure out what was happening. Gaining her trust, even a little bit of it, would be a bonus.
And they had bigger problems to deal with. At first glance someone who didn’t know better might think the scene was scattered and the person following her would be unfocused and easy to catch. But he did know better. He’d analyzed rooms like this for more than a decade. He knew how to read violence. This looked messy, but the person stalking Kayla wanted her terrified and on the move. This was calculated.
Could be she was a murderer and deserved the shaking up, or something else could be happening here. Either way, he’d figure it out.
“I’m going to put my hands down and—”
She shook her head. “No.”
He did it anyway. Lowered them slowly and kept them well away from his body to keep from spooking her. “From the first time I met you I knew you were scared and possibly running from something. Do you remember that?”
“They didn’t find me this time until you came around. I can add two plus two.” She eased up on the hold on the gun. It now aimed at his chest instead of his head.
He didn’t like losing that part of him any better than his head. “If I wanted to scare you or hurt you I’ve had a hundred chances, Kayla. We were all alone in that café.”
“People were just outside and would have heard you.”
“That wouldn’t have stopped me.” An understatement, but he knew he should end the explanation there. Describing how he would have bundled her up or taken her out without raising an alarm would not make her feel more secure.
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