by M. Leighton
The black dot of Lance’s pupil swells inside his blue eyes and my belly crumples in on itself. If we were alone, I know exactly what that look would mean. Been there, done that. That’s why I don’t taunt him. I’ve done a great job of finding other ways to keep him happy. No need to change that. Right now, though, we aren’t alone so I know I’m safe.
“Not this time. But if you want him to stay in the car, that’s fine. Just keep your cell turned on.” The last is said with a warning note. Once, a couple of weeks ago, I mentioned in passing that I’d left my phone in the car that day it was towed. He still hasn’t gotten over the thought of even possibly not being able to reach me for a few hours.
“Of course,” I say, moving away to grab my purse. “See you tonight.” I give him a chaste peck on the cheek and turn to priss off, hoping that the sight of my wiggling butt in the pencil skirt that he loves best will give him things to think about other than what I’m doing and where I’m going.
My eyes shift to Sig as I move past him. He meets them and watches me until I reach the door, at which time he opens it for me. I nod my thanks, ignoring the way my skin tingles where my shoulder brushes him as I slip by.
Neither of us says a word as we make our way to the elevator and down from the penthouse. At the lobby, Sig mutters, “I’ll pick you up at the curb.”
“Don’t you need the keys?” I ask.
He holds up a single key on a ring and jiggles it. I thought I had the only two keys to my car. Evidently Lance had another one made when he gifted it to me. Figures.
I barely catch his wink before he turns and walks off toward the exit that leads to the parking garage. For just a few seconds before I continue on through the lobby to the front doors, I let myself take in his tall form, his lean physique, his cocky swagger. He’s downright sinful to look at.
When I finally reach the exit, the doorman is waiting to assist me. “Ms. Lawrence. Will you be needing a car today?”
“No, thank you, Gerald.”
The older man bows his graying head, his faded hazel eyes crinkling kindly at the corners. Although I’m sure he has an inkling what Lance does for a living, he’s never given me the impression that he looks down on me or thinks I’m actually involved. Not like so many others do. They try to hide it, of course, but it’s fairly obvious that they think I’m no better than Lance is. And in some ways I’m not, but it still rankles that they put me in the same category when they don’t really know the first thing about me. Few people do. And even fewer still know the truth.
“Gonna be a scorcher today.”
I turn my face up to the sky as I walk out the door he holds open for me. The blue expanse boasts not a single cloud, just a blaring yellow sun. “Looks like you might be right.”
Focusing on the hot, humid breeze brushing my cheeks and tossing my up-do, I wait for my driver. My prison guard. My possible downfall.
I hear the expensive hum of an engine pull up to the curb and I open my eyes to Sig dragging his big body from behind the wheel of my Maserati and coming around the hood to open the back door for me. I don’t argue. I just bide my time until we are alone.
“Thank you,” I say politely, ducking inside the cool interior. I don’t glance at Sig as he closes the door and I try not to follow his every move with my eyes. But it’s hard. It’s really, really hard. Something about him draws me. It just does.
When he slides in behind the wheel, he finds me in the rearview mirror and asks, “Where to?”
I give him the address of a semi-luxurious condo building I know of that happens to have a dark, swanky internet bar behind the lobby. Without asking questions, he pulls away from the curb and takes a right at the red light.
I flick my fingernail against the strap of my purse as I wait for Sig to say something. When he doesn’t, I make the first move. “So, you didn’t tell me that you knew Lance.”
“You didn’t tell me that you knew Lance.”
Fair enough.
“I, uh, I assume you didn’t, um, tell him about…about…”
Sig’s amused eyes meet mine in the mirror again. “About rescuing you on the highway? Or about wanting to kiss his girlfriend before I knew who she was?”
My breath rushes out in a huff. I knew there was an attraction between us. I’m not blind. Or stupid. But to hear him say it…it brings to mind a crystal clear fantasy of Sig taking me into those big strong arms and devouring me with that sexy mouth. Holy lord! It’s enough to make me squirm.
“Th-the highway, yes.”
I hear Sig’s soft, rumbling laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. The answer is no. I didn’t tell him about finding you on the highway. Or wishing that you were single.”
His eyes rove my flushed face through the mirror. The sad thing is, they’re no less potent this way–through glass, with distance between us. In fact, him watching me like this is a little bit naughty somehow. It’s like being spied on or something. It makes me feel…steamy.
I clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip and look away. This is like playing with fire. I knew Sig would be a problem from the moment I met him, but I didn’t give it much thought because I never imagined that I’d see him again. I was relieved (in some ways) that I wouldn’t have to worry about it. But now…now, he’s here. In my life. Even more the forbidden fruit than he was before. And even more tempting, if that’s possible.
“So, where are you really going?” he asks, my eyes flying back to his.
After my initial shock, I quickly school my expression into the most politely bland mask I can muster. “A baby shower. I thought Lance told you.”
“No, I mean where are you really going?”
“To a baby shower,” I annunciate carefully.
“If that’s your story…” he quips with an unconcerned shrug.
I frown. “It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”
A lie. Of course. I can’t spill my guts to this guy. Even though I sort of have to trust him since he has dirt on me.
“Right. If that’s what you say.”
My frown deepens with the prick of my ire. “Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I don’t appreciate the insinuation.”
“Usually I can read people pretty well. I thought you were lying. My mistake.”
Handsome, charming and perceptive? This guy has to go!
I let the silence stretch out between us. Nothing good will come from arguing with him or trying to press a point when I stand to lose, not him.
“Just Tommi,” he begins after a while. I nearly close my eyes at the sound of my name on his lips. It’s like a caress, drifting back to touch my face, nearly as tangible as the warm, moist breeze I was enjoying earlier. My gaze shifts back to find warm chocolate eyes locked onto mine. “You look beautiful today.”
I lick my suddenly-dry lips and attempt a smile. I know it looks fake, but it’s the best I can achieve with so much tension thickening the air inside the car. “Thank you.”
I want to tell him that his comment is inappropriate, that he shouldn’t look at me in such a way. But I can’t. It feels too good to have him look at me with this blatant, almost animal attraction in his eyes.
I turn my attention to the passing cars and buildings, my mind a million miles away on a man and a woman who can act on their feelings rather than having to squelch them. I don’t know how many minutes pass before I hear his voice again, but when I do, I nearly miss his words. “You can trust me, Tommi.”
I face him and his sinfully dazzling eyes. “I don’t trust anyone.”
That one sentence contains more truth than I’ve spoken in years.
CHAPTER TEN- SIG
I watch Tommi’s delectable ass as she crosses the sidewalk and enters the building. Luckily, there’s parking out front, so I ease her car into a spot and get out. Her instructions to stay here until she gets back, that she won’t be long, only make me more curious as to why she wants me to stay away. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s something. There’s only on
e way to find out.
I lock up and jog to the door, nodding to the attendant as I pass. Inside, I pause for a few seconds to let my eyes adjust to the dimly plush interior. I scan my surroundings, spotting a discreet sign for a bar at the back of the lobby. I walk that way, thinking I can easily keep an eye out from there.
Something colorful sticking out of a trashcan catches my eye as I pass. It looks an awful lot like the baby shower present Tommi came in with. There’s no way I can confirm without making a scene and digging it out of the trash, but I’m pretty damn sure that’s what it is. Either way, it’s enough to have my instincts on high alert.
At the bar entrance, I look for a table close to the door so that I can have a good view of the mysterious Tommi as she leaves the building. At least I can see if she comes down with someone.
Turns out I don’t have to wait. And that I was right about her lying. She’s up to something. And it’s not a baby shower. She’s here in the bar.
Even if she wasn’t blonde, which so many women are, and even if she weren’t wearing a green blousy thing that matches her eyes, I’d still be able to pick her out of a crowd instantly. Something about her pulls at me. Like a magnet or gravity. Or temptation. Even though her taste in men is practically criminal (for criminals) and she’s likely at least knowledgeable about what Lance is into, I can’t not be attracted to her. I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to her. It makes no sense, but then again it doesn’t have to. In a house full of cops, gut instinct is a way of life and I’ve learned never to ignore it.
I’ve always been damn good at reading people and as soon as Tommi said it, I got the feeling she wasn’t being entirely straight with Lance about this baby shower thing. Then, when I saw the shocked look on her face when I asked her where she was really going, I knew I was right. Something’s up. And I’m just the guy to find out what that something is.
I drop into a seat that’s behind a big column near the entrance to the bar and I wait for a few seconds before I straighten enough to see Tommi again. She’s sitting at a corner booth, alone, like she’s trying to hide. Kinda like I’m doing. She’s got a little tablet in front of her and she looks engrossed, totally oblivious to what’s going on around her.
The waitress comes and I order a Coke, handing her a ten and then turning my attention back to the beautiful platinum head across the room. I watch her for forty-one minutes. She only rouses to her surroundings a couple of times, stretching and glancing around nervously before focusing once again on the screen. Whatever she’s doing, she doesn’t want to get caught. I don’t know if Lance even knows where we are, if she gave him an address. Hell, for all I know, there might not even be a pregnant friend. What I find most interesting, though, is that she’s playing Lance. That much is obvious. And that means there are only three options for the beautiful Just Tommi: She’s dumber than I think, smarter than I think or she has a death wish. And I’m determined to find out which one is accurate.
When after the better part of an hour, she folds the collapsible keyboard and starts closing up shop, I slip out unnoticed and haul ass to the car. I’m sitting in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down when I see her appear on the sidewalk at the front door. I start the engine and she looks my way. Her lips curve into a faint smile, which dies almost immediately, almost like she didn’t mean to smile. Yet she did.
I watch her walk primly toward me. I get out at the last minute to open the back passenger door. Her step falters for a second. “You don’t have to open my door.”
“Of course I do.”
“You’re not a chauffer.”
I shrug. “No, but I was raised in the south. This is what a man does.”
She considers me for a while before she bends gracefully to get into the car. I close the door behind her.
Once I’m settled in behind the wheel again, I find her eyes in the rearview. “Where to now?”
“Back to Lance’s.”
A few minutes of silence. I glance back several times to find her staring out the window, her expression blank. I’d love to know what’s going on behind that beautiful face, because I know something is. Probably a lot of something. If I had to guess, I’d say this woman’s mind never stops running.
“How was the shower?”
Her eyes slide to mine and she frowns. “Pardon?”
“The baby shower. How did it go?”
“Oh, right. Fine.” She sighs. “She’s having a little boy. She got tons of stuff. Clothes, diapers, a stroller, a baby swing, bottles, travel kits, a little bathtub. She shouldn’t have to buy much.”
She doesn’t bat an eye, just rattles this shit off like she was actually there. I’m impressed. This girl can lie her ass off. The question is: Why would she need to?
“Nice.”
Neither of us speaks for the rest of the trip back.
When we reach Lance Tonin’s building, I drop Tommi at the front and go back around to the side to park in the garage. Alone, I take the elevator up to the penthouse. I can hear the raised voices as soon as I pass the two goons that stand guard in the foyer.
“It’s for your safety. If you have nothing to hide then it shouldn’t be a problem,” Tonin is saying.
“Just what is it that you think that I’m doing?”
I’m ushered by a third goon through the marble foyer, with its light gray walls and muted lighting. To me, everything has this cold, dark look, like there’s perpetual shade in here. Or maybe it just looks shady. Like the owner of the place. Goon number three drops me off in the equally drab living room. It’s a sea of whites, blacks and grays and the only color besides Tonin’s ruddy, pock-marked face is in Tommi’s flushed cheeks and her jewel green shirt.
“I assume you’re doing precisely what you tell me you’re doing. I know you know what would happen if I found out you were lying to me.”
“Yes, I do know. So then why have me followed?”
“You’re not being followed. You’re being protected. There’s a difference.”
“It doesn’t feel different. It feels like an invasion of my privacy.”
“You shouldn’t need privacy from me. I love you. I have only your best interests at heart.” Hearing the word love come from an asshole like Tonin’s lips is about as incongruous as Mike Tyson in a Gandhi costume. A guy like Lance Tonin doesn’t love anything but money. Possessions. Power. And his facial expression tells me I’m right. There’s no love there. No real concern. Obsession maybe, but no love.
“It’s not my privacy, per se. It’s Travis’s. Do you know what this will do to his routine?”
“Fine then Sig will keep a safe distance when you’re with Travis, but he will be going with you. This is non-negotiable.”
Tommi’s spine is so straight it looks like she might split in two if she tries to bend. I can tell she wants to say something else, but she’s keeping it to herself. Fear? Maybe. But I don’t think so. She doesn’t look afraid. She just looks…pissed. But then why not speak up? There seem to be some subtleties about their dynamic that I need to learn. I probably shouldn’t care. After all, I’m here to take down Tonin by whatever means necessary. I tell myself that Tommi might be “whatever means” and knowing all I can know about her will only help me.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
I ignore the fact that I’m anxious to know her, to learn her, to get a feel for her. She damn near fascinates me, but luckily I’m not the type to let a woman get to me. The fairer sex is a helluva lot of fun and I love everything about their bodies and the way their minds work, but when it comes to matters of the heart, I keep my distance. Not much good comes from love and that knowledge will serve me well in situations like this. There’s zero danger of me getting too close.
Angrily, Tommi slings her purse strap over her shoulder and stalks toward me, barking a short, “Let’s go,” as she passes.
I glance at Tonin and he bobs his head once, his already-thin lips thinning further as his jaw flexes rhy
thmically. “Don’t lose her.”
I return his sharp nod. “No problem.”
With my long legs, I catch up to Tommi before the elevator doors close. I stick my hand in to stop it, grinning at the way her eyes flash at me.
“I don’t see anything funny about this situation.”
“Funny? Not funny, but your eyes are like green fire and your cheeks are all pink and flushed, like you’ve just been fuc– errr, like you’ve just been kissed. It’s sexy as hell. And I always grin at sexy-as-hell women.”
If anything, I think she actually gets madder. Which makes me wanna smile all the more. I edge up close to her and stick out my bent arm. “Wanna punch me? Would that make you feel better?”
She turns furious eyes up to mine and, for a second, I think she’s gonna cuss me out, the way her mouth drops open. But she doesn’t. Instead, she balls up her fist and pulls back to land a decent punch to my deltoid.
I nod at her. “Not bad for a girl.”
“Want me to try again? Below the waist? With my knee?” She says the words through gritted teeth, like she relishes the thought of nailing me in the balls.
“As much as I like the thought of my ‘below the waist’ being on your mind, that’s not exactly what I was thinking.”
Her stiff posture and angry expression ease. “You wish I was thinking about your ‘below the waist’.”
“Hell yeah, I do. A beautiful woman like you, what man wouldn’t?”
She cocks her head to one side and watches me. “Lance is very jealous, you know. Aren’t you aren’t afraid of what he’d do to you for saying things like that to me?”
“Men take crazy risks for the love of a beautiful woman.”