Sin on the Run

by Lucy Farago

  “You deal with what life gives you. I hear you and I aren’t that different.”

  “You read my file too?”

  “Part of the job. Sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Nothing in that file could reveal the real stuff, the personal details she didn’t want anyone to know. “But I had family, a home.”

  “True, but no one there to take care of you.”

  “It’s not the same. You had it harder.”

  “I had no responsibilities. Is that better or worse?”

  She shrugged. She’d always known there were kids who had it worse than she. Kids like Dozier, who didn’t have a warm bed to sleep in or social assistance to put food on the table.

  “Besides, if I’d never been on the streets, I wouldn’t be here today. You see, Ryan’s daddy developed a soft spot for the kid who’d tried to steal his wallet. Instead of sending that smartass to juvie, he gave him a home, taught him right from wrong. Made him a man.”

  “Your boss’s father took you in?”

  He nodded. “I grew up with Ryan.”

  “Really? I imagined Ryan Sheppard as an old guy with money.”

  “You got the money part right. Take this place. It was falling apart when Ryan bought it. Spent a fortune just making it structurally sound.”

  “I’m glad he didn’t tear it down and build new.” She liked old buildings. In Vegas everything old was demolished for something better, bigger. Vegas had a history, but most of the time it was hard to see.

  “We could go outside if you want. I know I told you not to, but the surveillance cameras are showing no one’s watching. Monty’s keeping a close eye on the grounds. He’ll ring if there’s a problem. Ryan has some … interesting pets we might want to avoid.”

  Interesting pets meant something exotic and in New Orleans that could mean a few things. “Alligators? Blake mumbled something about gators and pretty toes, but his pain meds had taken effect. I assumed he was loopy.”

  “Yeah, I wished I’d gotten him on my phone. The guys back at the lab would have gotten a kick out of seeing him like that.” He laughed.

  She frowned, wondering why a man in pain would be humorous. “Seeing someone hurt is funny?”

  “You too? Ah, hell, I thought you’d be different. Pretty boy is like honey to bears.” He shook his head. “Lucky bastard. I meant him being stoned, not hurt. We take care of our own, in case you missed the memo,” he teased.

  “Sorry, but why would it be funny?”

  “Let me put it this way. I once saw him polish off a bottle of Crown without so much as a slur.”

  “Impressive.” Not to her, of course. “I don’t drink.”

  “Good girl. Now how about that walk?”

  “No thanks, I want to be here in case he wakes up.” She was using her scariest tactics to get Blake to take his pills. The hangover effect he was experiencing would take the rest of the day to clear his system. Abandoning him to take a walk didn’t seem right. She told herself not to care whether it felt right or wrong, but again, she didn’t listen.

  *

  It was four hours before Blake stirred. She’d gone into his room several times, each time being careful not to wake him. On the third visit, she was about to shut the door behind her when she heard, “Are you bored?”

  She turned to see him struggling to sit up. When she moved to help, he held up a hand.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “You’ve been in here three times. I’d like to think it was because you cared. But since I got you into this sorry mess, I’m thinking you can’t wait to see the last of me.”

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.” She chose to ignore his comment.

  “Seeing you is the highlight of my day.” He dropped his feet to the floor and stood.

  She watched carefully, vigilant should he fall. “Sounds like you’re the one who’s bored.”

  “I am,” he said, deflating the little part of her ego he’d just stroked. “But what better way to keep myself occupied than watch a beautiful woman walk into my bedroom?”

  “You think I’m beautiful?” He was everything you could think of on a stick. Him saying she was beautiful was outrageous. Men paid her compliments all the time. But when you’d given them a hard on, it wasn’t much of a compliment.

  “There is none more beautiful than you, Rhonda.” He sat where they’d played cards this morning. “Outside,” he continued, “and inside. I know you have this whole tough thing going on.” He waved his hand in the air. “And it’s sexy as hell, a strong woman who tells you to shove it up yer arse with a smile that makes you wish you could take her to bed. But you’ve a gentle soul. A kind soul. One I think you’d rather not have. Would it be too personal a question for me to ask why?”

  He motioned to the chair across from him.

  She obliged. “I don’t understand the question.” Who didn’t want their soul?

  He leaned over the small table. “It’s like this. You see a bird with a broken wing and you take it home. Helping is a pain in the arse, but your heart won’t let you leave the injured birdie.

  “You wish you could. Walk away, that is, but you can’t. You’re compelled to help. I’m that broken bird. And you wish like hell you could simply walk away, but even if you could, you can’t.”

  “Interesting premise, except I can’t go anywhere. And if I could, why would I leave an injured man to fend for himself when I have some, if not all of the training to help? I’d have to be very cold-hearted. Who would want to be that kind of person?” His assumption was hitting too close to home. It wasn’t as simple as wanting to shut off that part of her that couldn’t make her walk away. It was that she always took second seat. Her needs, her wants, never came first. Was it so wrong to want to be first for a change?

  Then again, look what life had dealt her now. The one time she’d decided to do just that, she ended up fighting for her life in a hotel bathroom.

  “No, you can’t leave. Nor do you have to keep checking on me. And yet, here you are. You could send Dozier.”

  “But I have the medical training.”

  “You were here three times this afternoon,” he said, driving his point home.

  He had her there, but no way was he winning this argument. She had flaws. Didn’t mean she liked anyone knowing them. “Okay, I admit it. You’re just too hot to resist. And you’re even hotter sleeping there, all pathetic like. I can’t help myself.”

  He looked at her for a very long time. So long, she thought he’d bought her bull.

  “I’ll ignore the ‘pathetic’ part. It’s because of your father, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “What does my father have to do with you being so beautiful angels are jealous?”

  “It couldn’t have been easy,” he continued. “All those years. Being the parent, when all you must have really wanted was to go outside and play, maybe stay out late on a date, not take a job that would pay all his bills?” An obvious reference to her stripping. “No one would have blamed you if you’d walked away. He was a drunk. But you stayed.”

  “He was my father. Flaws and all, I loved him.” So why had she been relieved when he died? What kind of a daughter did that make her?

  “Yes, so much so you took a job with Maggie.”

  “It paid the bills.”

  “But he’s gone now. Why don’t you do something else?”

  “Are you ragging on me for stripping?” Just because she didn’t like stripping didn’t mean anyone else could take her to task for doing it.

  Blake didn’t like Rhonda stripping, but not for the reasons she’d think. She deserved better than to have all those horny pricks staring at her, imagining things they had no right to imagine. But she didn’t belong to him, and he had no right to comment on it.

  “I don’t have a problem with women who want to strip. It’s the ones who are forced into it I take issue with.” His haughty grandmother would disagree, but there were many things she and he disagreed o
n.

  “Then we don’t have a problem.”

  “You and I have never had a problem. Look, I … I just don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me. I can handle this. And Dozier can help with the bandage on my back.”

  “You’d rather have Dozier helping you?”

  He sighed heavily. He was never going to make her happy. “I’d rather have your hands on my body, thank you very much. It makes me wish I could push you beneath me and fuck you senseless.” He was just being honest. “But you look pissed every time you come in here. So I don’t think it would be very wise to tell you how good your hands feel when you touch my forehead or brush your fingers against my face.”

  It took her a minute to resume blinking, the stunned expression on her face a good indication he’d caught her off guard. That made two of them. But, damn, the woman was exasperating.

  “Okay then,” she finally said. “I’m confused.” She scratched her forehead. “Do you, or don’t you, want Dozier to help?”

  He could see only one way out of this. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he reached out and pulled her across the table, where he kissed her with everything he had. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but her taste was worth it. Hell, the woman’s mouth was meant for kissing … and other things he had no business wishing for. He knew damn well their one night together was simply that, one night. But he was in pain and she was here. And the image of her beneath and on top of him wasn’t easily forgotten. She’d been the best one-nighter of his life. And more importantly, she wasn’t pulling away. He told himself to keep his tongue out of her mouth. He didn’t listen. And if not for the stabbing pain to his chest, he’d have kept right on not listening. Reluctantly, he let her go.

  He was staring at her. Was anything more beautiful than a woman whose lips were wet from his kisses? He felt suddenly possessive, with a need to kill any man who dared touch her mouth. “I’ll not apologize for kissing you. So don’t expect me to.”

  “Okay.” She licked her lips, drawing his saliva into her mouth. It was so hot, he considered kissing her again simply to watch her repeat it.

  His hard-on told him he’d better cut it out or Christian would have his balls. He needed a way out of the mess he’d just created. He liked Rhonda. Shit, the woman had saved his life. She deserved better, better than anything he was capable of giving. Which for now, was nothing. Colin had to inherit the money, or his brother might not have anyone in his life either.

  “It’s close to dinner,” she said, breaking the silence. “You hungry? I can bring you something.”

  Bloody hell, was the woman not listening? “Am I going to have to kiss you again?” Now it was himself he teased.

  She smiled, laughing a little. “I have no idea why you kissed me. Did you take a pain med when I wasn’t looking?”

  He returned her smile and leaned in. “I like kissing you. Is that not reason enough?”

  She opened her mouth then closed it. Opened it again, and again, closed it. Success, he thought. He’d stunned her stupid. Good. Now he had a plan. Every time she’d offer to help, he’d kiss her. He wasn’t going to be a burden, and if he had to stun her into compliance, then so be it.

  “Seriously,” he said, “you aren’t here to take care of me.”

  “I know that.”

  “Okay then, so we’re in agreement. The next time you come into my room it’s to crawl under the covers with me.”

  “Stop.” She eyeballed him sideways. “I’m not Maggie. You can’t shock me.”

  “I beg to differ, and as you said, I’m bored. Of course …” He glanced over at the big empty bed. “If you want to get under the covers with me …” He was half kidding.

  “And on that note.” She stood. “I’m glad you’re feeling good enough to joke.”

  “Who said I was joking?”

  “Holy hell, you’re more persistent than some of the dumbasses that come into the club. Do I have to get rough with you?”

  “Hmm.” He considered her offer. “Not today. I don’t think the hole in my chest could handle it, but if you care to ask me again in say … a week?”

  She laughed, the sound intoxicating. It was sexy, heartfelt, and it made him proud to be the cause of it.

  “I didn’t realize you were such a flirt.” She crossed her arms and leaned on one hip.

  He remembered those hips, remembered his hands gripping them. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look up. “Can’t hurt a guy for trying.”

  “Actually, in Maggie’s club, you’d be out on your ass after the third attempt.”

  “Third?”

  “It would depend on the flirtation. No hands, you’re bothering me, three strikes you’re out. With hands, no strikes, you’re out.”

  “Right.” He nodded. “I saw that happen once.”

  He closed his eyes, realizing his mistake the moment the words had come out of his mouth. He hadn’t wanted her to know he’d been in the club. It was foolish. Who knew how many men had seen her dance? And yet, he didn’t want to be counted among them. Maybe it was because he thought she’d be embarrassed—but if she were, she wouldn’t dance. Perhaps, when he watched, he’d imagined her dancing for him and him alone, and he didn’t want to be lumped with the other slobs who’d enjoyed themselves.

  “You were at the club?” She tried but didn’t succeed to sound nonchalant.

  “Once or twice,” he admitted. “When clients insisted on a night out.”

  “Live entertainment? It’s a good thing you weren’t there on ladies’ night. Nobody would have been watching the acts.”

  “Let me guess, because I’m too pretty.” He remembered their first dance, the first time he held her and what she’d said.

  “Well, why would they look at the men on stage when the guy next to them is the hottest man on earth?”

  “You’re so full of it.” He’d come to learn she enjoyed getting a rise out of him.

  “Have you looked in the mirror? Again, angels cry when they look at you. You must have women pawing at you all the time.”

  “You didn’t.” And honestly, it had made her even sexier.

  “I can’t ask people, men, to respect my boundaries if I don’t respect theirs. Besides,” she said, “I don’t sleep around. What happened between you and me … that was a one-time thing.”

  He knew that, but hearing her say it hurt his ego. “Agreed.” Because what choice did he have? “But for my part, that’s only because Christian would have my balls if I hurt you. And while I would never intentionally do that, relationships aren’t my thing.” He’d also never found a woman he thought could take on his family. His grandmother would’ve snapped the women he dated in half. Even Sarah, his brother’s wife, had briefly reconsidered marrying into the clan from hell. He suspected Rhonda, with her tough-girl act, hid a fragility she wanted no one to see.

  “Christian told you not to sleep with me?”

  “More like Maggie.”

  “I see,” she said. “Mamma bear.”

  He laughed. “She cares a great deal for you.”

  “Yup, that’s Maggie. Wish I could be more like her.”

  Was she kidding? “You are like her. You’re both selfless people.”

  “No, Maggie is selfless. She’s like a bottomless pit of giving.”

  Did she really not see it? What did she think all those years of taking care of her father had been? “Rhonda, you sacrificed everything for your father.”

  “It’s not the same thing,” she insisted.

  “How is it different?”

  Because, Rhonda thought, Maggie didn’t resent her giving nature. “Maggie can’t help herself. I had no choice. Now,” she stood, “how about lunch?” She didn’t want to discuss her father anymore.

  “If you’re up to it, let’s go down to the kitchen.”

  “Sure, I’d love to get out of here. Give me a minute to change into sweats?”

  “I’ll wait outside.” Resisting the urge to offer assistance
, she left his room.

  When his door finally opened, he was dressed in low-riding black sweats and gray zippered hoodie. “How was it?” she asked, referring to his getting dressed with an injury.

  “Not bad. What’s the expression? I won’t be running a marathon anytime soon?”

  “Yeah. Would you’ve run one before?” He looked in shape.

  “Hell no. I hate running. Never been that kind of adrenaline junkie.”

  “If you tell me good genes make you look that fit, I may have to put another hole in your chest.” She led the way down the hall toward the stairs.

  “You have this amazing way of insulting me for being attractive. I’m ‘too pretty.’ And what was that other thing … ‘angels cry when they look at me’.”

  “It’s true. It’s a good thing you’re not too bright.” She indicated she should take the stairs first, in case he needed help.

  “Now you think I’m stupid?”

  “No, but there is no way God gave you all that,” she swirled her hand in front of him, “and a brain too.”

  “So, you do think I’m stupid,” he said, following her.

  “Stupid is harsh. More like not a rocket scientist. That’s not a bad thing.” She’d never had this kind of banter with a man, and with Blake it seemed to come naturally. If nothing else, they’d be good friends, if the future permitted it.

  “Not bad? You’re basically calling me a dumb blond. You did call me a dumb blond.”

  “I never mentioned your hair color.” She might be a prisoner in this grand plantation, but she was going to enjoy it as best she could. Even if it meant teasing the guy to death. “Come along. One foot at a time, and before you know it you’ll be at the bottom.”

  “I’ll have you know,” he said, “I graduated from Oxford at the top of my class.”

  “Basket weaving 101?”

  “Law, thank you very much.”

  Rhonda winced, mentally slapping herself in the head. She might not be pimping him out, but was all her teasing making her any better than his boss? They made it to the bottom step when she turned, ready to apologize but caught off-guard by what he’d just said. “Oxford? Don’t you have to have money to go there?”