The Fixer

by HelenKay Dimon

That’s why he held most of the story back. He’d walked right to the edge, ready to let it all come tumbling out for the first time in years, but stopped. Emery wasn’t part of Quint Associates, a dysfunctional brotherhood of like-minded men he knew and trusted. The few he could call on if he needed a favor or help on a case. Powerful men with drive and impressive resources. Men with fractured backgrounds, just like him. Some far worse than him.

  Emery wasn’t like Garrett either or even a friend. Not really. But she did haunt him. The need to be inside her, taste her, pounded him. No way was he going to forfeit the chance now in exchange for hand-holding.

  He walked her backward. With each step, their bodies rubbed together. Her breasts crushed against his chest as his hands slid down her ass. He nearly threw her over his shoulder at the thought of how she’d feel when he was inside of her.

  Digging deep, he found a reservoir of control and tapped it, but the dance continued. Their legs tangled and his gaze stayed locked on hers. The urge to kiss her, to peel that T-shirt up and off her, nearly strangled him. But he waited. The taste would be so much sweeter if he drew this out, made every second tick by like an eternity.

  Her back pressed against the wall and he leaned into her. His mouth hovered right over hers. “I spent all day thinking about fucking you.”

  Her arms slipped around his neck. “Sounds like you were a naughty boy at work.”

  “Good thing I own the place.” Right then he would have signed it all over to her in a bargain that ended with him ripping off her underwear.

  A feverish need gripped him. The pros and cons of taking this step fell away. He didn’t care if it was smart or dangerous. He just wanted it to happen.

  She shot him a sexy smile and his mouth crashed against hers. The kiss, hot and wild, burned through him. Blood roared in his ears and raced in his veins. She seduced him just by standing there. Those sweet curves. The slip of her tongue against his. The wet heat of her mouth.

  His fingers slid under the band of her shirt. He opened his hands, loving the way his palms spanned her soft skin. The scent of her shampoo wound around him as the kiss pushed on. Not sweet and not lingering. No, this was demanding. All-consuming in the way she lured him in and made demands without saying a word.

  His fingertips brushed against the edge of her bra. With two tugs, he had the clasp open. He cupped her breasts in his palms, gently massaging as he captured her gasp in his mouth. Still, the kiss raged. Hands, mouth and a drumming need building inside him.

  He had to see her. All of her.

  Pulling back, he gave her one last chance to break away. The silence to come to her senses. To grab control and walk away.

  She unbuttoned his shirt.

  Opening one then the next, those fingers undid each one until she reached his waist. “Levi?”

  Jesus, the way she said the name he’d all but wiped from his memory. He had no idea how much he ached to hear it on her lips until he did. “Yes?”

  She eased away from the wall, just enough to press her mouth against his ear. To lick her tongue around the outside rim then whisper, “It’s time to be a naughty boy.”

  Her breath, that voice, pinged across his nerve endings. Need pummeled him now. Forcing his hands to stay steady, he lifted the thin fabric of her shirt. Up and over, stripping her, almost tearing it.

  The light bathed her skin in a soft glow. He rubbed his palms over her shoulders. Skimmed across the tiny straps of the light blue bra balanced there. “So fucking beautiful.”

  “Take it off.”

  He flicked the straps to the sides, until they fell down and rested against her arms. The front gaped and he slipped a finger just inside the cup, tracing her nipple—back and forth. With each circle her breathing kicked up. Her chest rose as her fingers clenched against his biceps.

  The need to get her naked hit him with a fierce urgency. Every muscle shook as he tried to throw on the brakes and make this moment last. With one push, the bra dropped down and she whipped it off, letting it fall to the floor somewhere behind them. Then she was on him. Her foot traveled up the back of his calf as she wrapped her body around his.

  No way could he stop now. Lifting her off the floor, he carried her the rest of the way into the bedroom and fell onto the mattress with her. Tiny moaning sounds escaped her throat when their mouths met in another flame-inducing kiss. His hands roamed as he kicked off his shoes. The thuds against the hardwood echoed around them. He ignored the faint sound of music and knock of the bed against the floor and concentrated on the touch of the woman beneath him.

  Her hands moved as she tugged his shirttails out of his pants. After a few yanks she had him sitting back and taking it off. Then the undershirt. Stripped to the waist, he slid over her again. Forget finesse. His control fizzled out under the force of that stamina she’d bragged about.

  The woman knew how to kiss. Knew where to touch him to send his temperature spiking.

  Just as he settled between her raised thighs a thought hit him. Condom. He’d put one in his jacket then took it out again. Something about she’d be upset about the break-in and him not wanting to take advantage of her. But he’d underestimated her. She wasn’t fragile or unsure. Her strength—her need—washed over him, igniting his own.

  “Fuck chivalry.” He mumbled the words against her neck.

  She pulled back and pinched his shoulder until he looked at her. “What?”

  “I didn’t bring a condom.” It took all of his willpower not to race up and down the hall begging her neighbors for one. “Trust me, I’m kicking my own ass over that decision.”

  “Damn.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I haven’t dated anyone in a while. I don’t have any, so no protection.” She groaned as her head fell back into the pillow. “That’s a no-go for me.”

  “Agreed.” Now if only he could breathe.

  Ducking his head, he balanced on his elbows and looked down the length of her. If he were younger and more of a dick he might try to convince her with the old “I’m clean” speech. He was, but that wasn’t the point. He respected her and her decision on this issue. They were smart people and needed to act that way.

  Drinking in one last look, his gaze hesitated on the top curve of her breast. Slid over her nipple and across her skin. Clearly his attraction had him locked in a haze that made him slower than usual. They had all sorts of options. Great options.

  He smiled as he lowered his body again and nuzzled her neck. “Good thing there are so many other things I can do to you.”

  “Tell me more.” She stretched her arms above her head. “Use as many words as you want.”

  As if he could talk. “I might be limited to grunts.”

  “I love the idea of having that kind of power over you.”

  “You do.” But he couldn’t think about that now. How big that was and what it meant . . . later.

  He moved down, stopping to lick his tongue across her nipple and watch it tighten. When her back lifted off the mattress, he did it again. Kept going until her body shifted on the bed, looking as if every nerve jumped and quivered.

  Continuing, he trailed a line of kisses down her stomach. His fingers worked on the button at the top of her jeans. His hands trembled with the need to yank the last of her clothes off her. He settled for peeling them down inch by inch, kissing each peek of skin he uncovered.

  The rustling of material as he gave it one last tug and ripped it off. That left her and the thin blue bikini underwear. He lowered his head and placed a kiss in the dead center. Smelled her. Rubbed his cheek against her until she widened her thighs even farther.

  Her fingers slid into his hair and held him there. He didn’t back away. One hand slipped under the elastic band of her underwear while the other skimmed the underside of her leg to the back of her knee. He folded the edge of the underwear back, baring her to his gaze. His tongue pressed inside her as her heels stabbed into the mattress.

  “Take them off, Levi.”

&n
bsp; Damn, he loved the sound of his name on her lips. “I want you to beg.”

  Her head whipped from side to side on the pillow. “Please.”

  Moving to his knees, he pushed her legs back and grabbed for the edge of her underwear. He dragged them down and let them fall. No way was he looking away from her. She had his full attention. Then she opened her legs, letting them fall to the sides.

  Her confidence was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

  “I’m going to make you scream.” He barely got the words out. Heat rolled over him and his hands shook with the need to touch her again.

  “I’m counting on that.”

  Moving in slow motion, he slipped down again, angling his body and slipping back between her thighs. This time he didn’t play. He slid a finger inside her. Pressed in and out, going deeper each time. Licked his tongue along her seam, found her place that started her squirming and flicked against it.

  Her breath came out in gasps, but he didn’t relent. The taste of her had him wanting more. Using his hands and mouth, he kept up the sensual torture until her muscles shook. Her legs pressed against his shoulders as she grabbed for the comforter, twisting the material in her clenched fists.

  He varied the speed of his finger then added a second, scissoring them inside her until her shoulders lifted off the mattress. Her hips bucked. Her toes curled and uncurled. Her tiny inner muscles tightened against him as he pulled his fingers out of her and thrust them inside again.

  “Yes.” Her body stiffened as she started chanting his name. “God, Levi. Yes.”

  She made him feel like a hero. Her body reacted to his touch and she didn’t hide any reaction from him. She let him see her desire and it was fucking glorious.

  With one last pass of his tongue, her body let go. Her fingers shifted from the covers to his shoulders. She pressed against him as her muscles squeezed and her body pulsed against his tongue. He could almost feel the waves of pleasure move through her and had to fight to keep from losing it right there.

  Calling on his control, he rolled to the side. Kept the connection with her body by draping his hand across her thigh. Thought he might have a fighting chance not to spill it until her fingers slipped into his hair, gently caressing.

  A man only had so much control in a situation like this. “Uh, Emery.”

  “Will you tell me something?”

  If he wasn’t careful, he would show her something. That wasn’t exactly how a guy wanted to come his first time with a woman. There, in his suit. Not impressive.

  “Sure.” His answer sounded strangled even to his ears.

  “Why were you so angry?” The mattress dipped as she turned to her side and slid down to face him. “Back then, I mean.”

  Okay, that killed his erection. He guessed he should thank her for saving him from an embarrassing teen flashback. But this subject sucked. “Is now the time for this conversation?”

  She traced her finger over his lips and down to his jaw. “This strikes me as the perfect time to share.”

  He wasn’t sure how to answer that without pissing her off. Pointing out that he’d already shared a secret about his life and then went down on her seemed especially dickish. “It’s not really something I talk about.”

  “You don’t give out your name either, but you told me.”

  He’d forgotten most of his personal rules when it came to her. “Hard to argue with that logic.”

  “Then don’t.”

  He debated telling her another story and keeping the facts hidden. He might have done it if she weren’t right there with her leg sliding along his, naked and trailing her hand down his bare chest. “There was a woman.”

  “Ah.” She nodded. “There always is.”

  “My mother.” When she frowned but stayed quiet, he pushed on over his reluctance and every ounce of common sense that told him to stop. “I was training and plotting and learning to shoot because I was angry about my father.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  He reached out to rest his hand on her hip but stopped. This wasn’t a time for touching or joy or anything good. “I wanted him dead.”

  Slowly, she sat up. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

  “I think you do. He was the one I wanted to punish. Worse, actually, but I settled for ruining him.” He leaned on his elbow and stared up at her. “Because he killed my mother.”

  “I . . . Oh, Levi.” Emery crossed her legs in front of her and dragged the edge of the comforter across her naked body. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  He didn’t either. It wasn’t as if he told this story often. Quint knew. The other members of the group knew, and that included Garrett. But the universe of the people pretty much ended there. He’d walked away from his father, that life and his name almost a decade ago. Got his revenge and left. Killed off the young man he once was and started over with his acquired skills.

  On the verge of telling her he couldn’t talk about it the words started to flow. “The market turned and his business was in trouble. Between the margin calls and the panicked clients demanding to withdraw their money, everything fell apart.”

  She balled the comforter on her lap. “Okay, but . . . I mean, murder?”

  “He had a two million dollar life insurance policy on my mom and a mistress waiting for him to break free. I guess with those pressures his choice sounded like a good idea.”

  “Damn.” She reached out and touched the side of his face. One slip of her fingers then the warmth was gone again.

  “He wasn’t particularly original about it. They were supposed to meet at a work party that night. She never showed.” Wren sat up then because lying down didn’t feel right. Nothing about this moment did.

  They’d flipped from pleasure to serious and he didn’t know how to get the pleasure back . . . but a part of him didn’t want to. There was something about purging the information that felt right. With her past, through all the pain she’d experienced, he knew she’d get it. She’d at least understand it.

  “You’re sure?” She rested a hand on his knee.

  Rather than fight the comfort, he dove into it. Picked up her hand and held it in both of his. “I know he did it.”

  “How?”

  He caressed her fingers, stunned by the contrast of the harsh memories and her healing touch. “He says she ran away. Her mom, my grandmother, was Japanese and had returned to Osaka years before to take care of her sick sister. My father insisted my mom was miserable as a wife and left to join her long-lost family in Japan because nothing in the US held her back.”

  Emery shook her head. “Except you.”

  “He could go into great detail about how awful a mother she was, too.” Wren put her hand back on his lap and covered it with one of his. Didn’t break the bond. “None of it true, of course. At least nothing that matched my memories of her. And she’d never actually lived in Japan or talked about going there, but he didn’t let those facts get in his way.”

  “The police thought he did it?”

  “Almost everyone did, but it took years for the police to collect enough evidence to arrest him.” The prosecutors were sure he’d been found guilty, but they underestimated people’s biases and willingness to believe a woman of Japanese descent would value her Asian mother and that family over her own and just leave without word. As if her ethnic background meant she loved her child less. It was all so sick and unbelievable that Wren still couldn’t process it. “All but the people on his juries.”

  Emery’s eyes widened. “Juries, as in plural?”

  “There was a trial followed by a mistrial because the first jury couldn’t reach a decision. The second time around he was acquitted.” By that point the news had been saturated by his father’s lies about his mother being disconnected and yearning for something else. He’d painted himself as the victim and loving father. All lies.

  Emery’s hand squeezed his. “What about your mom?”

  The col
d pit he covered and buried and tried to ignore formed again in his stomach. The icy branches ran through him, cutting through his defenses. “Never found. Her social security number has never been used again. The bank accounts and credit cards in her name went untouched. I’ve looked and traced every piece of evidence. My dad was thorough.”

  Emery moved then. Slipped over and settled on his lap with her arms wrapped around him. “I’m so sorry.”

  For a second, he just sat there. He didn’t even realize their bodies were rocking back and forth until he felt the slight sway. Something about her warmth and the concern in her voice broke through. Instead of running from his past and the truth, it rushed out of him.

  He wanted her to know. He needed her to know that he got it. He understood the hollowness and emptiness that went along with not knowing. With craving answers and never finding them. “No witnesses but a trail of alleged sightings that put her at airports then out of the US.”

  She brushed a hand through his hair. “You don’t buy it.”

  “Later, when I was older, I tried to track the sightings and they didn’t pan out. The intel seemed to be planted.”

  “By your father.”

  “Of course.” No matter what his father said there was no other viable suspect. There were no other explanations. “Their bedroom rug was gone the afternoon she disappeared. So were all of the photos that suggested there ever was one. He insisted I was wrong, but I knew.”

  Her arm tightened around him. “How old were you?”

  “Nine when she disappeared. Twelve when he was arrested. Sixteen when he was acquitted. Twenty-five when I ruined him.”

  “Ruined?”

  “An all-out assault on his life. Leaked evidence that supported his guilt. Made up other stuff. Separated him from friends. Made it impossible for them to publicly support him without looking as if they were supporting a killer.” He blew out a long breath. “Used shell companies and stole what little money he had left. Made it impossible for him to work and earn more.”

  “That’s quite an attack.”

  “I let him live.” A fact Wren regretted more than once.

  “Which is how you became a fixer.”