Binds that Burn: A Werepanther Romance Suspense (Urban Dwellers Book 3)

by Ivy Sinclair

  “Look, Eric and I used to go round and round and round about the existence of anything supernatural. He thought that that part of my business was so stupid. He didn’t believe it for a second. It was a fundamental disagreement that the two of us had. I tried so many times to make him see that there were other things in the world that couldn’t be explained, but he refused to believe it. He basically called me a flake because I did.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, you’re amused that something like this has happened to him.”

  Nina stopped laughing then. She caught Maggie’s disapproving look. “Okay. I don’t hate the guy, but I do think he is an absolute asshole. He thinks he is better than everybody else. He is arrogant, cocky, and condescending. I’m sorry that it amused me a little bit to think that something may have happened in his life that might call into question everything that Eric thinks is true in the world.”

  “He’s going to be charged with murder, Nina. I hardly think that is a laughing matter. We’re talking about a man’s life here.”

  Nina hated to admit that Maggie was right. She was acting flippant and nonchalant about something that was very serious. She needed to put her professional hat back on. She took the file away from Maggie’s fingertips.

  She looked at the name on the corner of the file. “Jillian Anderson,” she read out loud.

  “That is the name of the woman that he will be accused of murdering,” Maggie said.

  Nina tried to perfect her business tone. “So, it was a one-night stand gone wrong?” Why would that idea twist her insides the way that it did? She shouldn’t care who Eric slept with. But still, it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

  “We believe that Eric is being framed.”

  “On what basis? By who?” Nina knew that Eric wasn’t well-liked everywhere, but framing him for murder seemed extreme.

  “The less you know about the circumstances of this case, the better. Right now, the only thing we want to know is everything that you can find out about Jillian Anderson. Where she came from, what she’s been doing, anything at all that you can find out about her. That’s all.”

  “That sounds pretty straightforward to me,” Nina said. She looked at Maggie. “So what’s the woo woo factor in all of this?”

  Maggie rolled her eyes at Nina’s silly expression. “There is a strong possibility that Jillian had ties to some kind of supernatural entity. We’re not sure yet. That’s part of what you may uncover in your research. We want you to keep your eyes open for those kinds of things especially.”

  “Okay,” Nina said. “If it’s as simple as that, then I’m willing to help.” Inside, she felt Maggie’s words finally sinking in. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to Eric. She was worried about him, and she felt a small flare of anger that anyone would try to do something like this to him. Despite the fact that she wanted to get as far away from him as she could, she did not want him to spend the rest of his life behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit. Eric was many things, but she knew that he was not a killer. If she could help in some small way, she would.

  “Good, I’m glad that’s settled then,” Maggie said. “Forty-eight hours? I’m going to expect to hear that the police are scheduling the arraignment as quickly as they can. The sooner we have this information, the better.”

  “That’s not a lot of time, but I’ll do my best,” Nina said.

  She was already starting to formulate her plan in her mind. This was exactly the kind of thing that she liked to do that was totally gravy. A pure fact-finding mission for a big bank of dollars and no messy situations that might be dangerous for her.

  She shuffled her feet, and Maggie rolled her eyes. “In order to close this deal, you’re going to have to see him again. Do you think that you can keep your cool?”

  Now that she had settled herself into her professional persona again, Nina was sure that she could be in the same room with Eric and keep her cool.

  “Yes, but remember I won’t do it unless I hear it from him that he’s agreeable to me working on it.”

  Maggie stood up. She stuck out her hand. “I’m glad to be working with you again, Nina. We are long overdue for drinks.”

  “I’d say so,” she said. She gave Maggie a quick hug. “It looks like you have a pretty big update for me too.”

  Maggie blushed. Her hand went self-consciously to the side of her neck, and she rubbed it. “Yes, I guess you could say I do. But that’s not why we’re here. We have to stay focused.”

  Maggie motioned for Nina to follow her. Nina thought that the hallway seemed to go on forever. They emerged into a small room, and she saw it was set up like a restaurant, but it only had a handful of tables. It shouldn’t surprise her that the Urban Dwellers continued to have other businesses afoot that she uncovered all of the time. Eric sat with Tony and Kyle at a small table. There was a bottle of bourbon in between them. That also did not surprise her.

  Maggie strolled up to the table. She put her hand on Tony’s shoulder. It was clear to Nina that the two of them were together. Maggie seemed to move as one with Tony. He gazed up at her with open adoration.

  “Gentlemen, I believe we have the situation settled. There are only a few things that Ms. Rodriguez requires in order to agree to take the case. I want to remind you that she’s the best in the business, and we need her.”

  Nina felt the weight of Eric’s eyes on her. If felt as if they burned a path up and down her body as they traveled her still form. Her body immediately responded. That was one area where she had definitely missed Eric.

  “What are they?” Kyle asked.

  “The demands are for Mr. Carmichael,” Maggie said formally.

  Nina couldn’t be sure, but she thought that both Kyle and Tony hid a grin behind their hands with a slight cough. It was as if they knew that Eric was in trouble.

  Eric leaned back in his chair. He looked at Maggie and then back at Nina. “So what are Ms. Rodriguez’s demands?” He sounded as if he was entering some kind of formal negotiation, and in a way, he was.

  “Given the status of your past relationship, Ms. Rodriguez has requested a larger than normal fee. I think it’s more than fair, so I have already agreed to it on the Urban Dwellers’ behalf.” The other two men almost choked on their laughter. Eric looked like he was ready to spit nails. “In addition, Ms. Rodriguez has requested to have your confirmation that you are comfortable with her working on your case. And finally, Ms. Rodriguez has requested to have all transactions on this case go through me and my office.”

  “Not a chance in hell,” Eric said. He leaned his forearms on the table. He glared at Maggie. “You can tell Ms. Rodriguez that because this case is intimately involved in my life, all of her findings will be funneled through me. I will decide what makes sense to be sent on to you, counselor.” He saw Maggie start to open her mouth, but he stopped her with a flip of his hand. “The last time I checked, you work for me.”

  Tony looked as if he was going to say something, but Eric waved him off. “This was your idea, not mine. You guys will play by my rules.”

  Then he got up from the table and stalked up to Nina. She took a step back even as he got up into her personal space. “You can work on my case. I don’t have a problem with that as long as you don’t either. If Maggie says you’re the best, I believe her. But everything you find will be reported to me personally, or you won’t get paid. If you have a problem with that, that’s too fucking bad.” Then he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving the rest of them staring at his back.

  Maggie knew then that she was in big trouble.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CLOSED

  Nina’s feet slowed as she saw the simple, handwritten sign on the restaurant door. She looked at the text message on her phone screen again, as if she didn’t already know the restaurant’s address by heart.

  “Ms. Rodriguez?” The deep voice startled her out of her confusion. She looked up to see Cal standing next to a sleek Lincoln Town Car parked at
the curb.

  “Oh, hey, Cal,” she said faintly. Every molecule of her body screamed at her to turn on her heel and leave immediately. She cursed Eric for making her come to the place that was the scene of their first date. It was as if he was mocking her, which, surely he was. The bastard.

  “Mr. Carmichael is waiting for you inside,” Cal said, gesturing toward the door.

  “Sign says closed.” She wanted an excuse, any excuse, not to have to see Eric again.

  Cal shrugged and stepped back toward the car. She knew she wasn’t going to get anything else out of him. Eric’s employees were unfailingly loyal and closed-mouthed when it came to anything about their boss. It would have been admirable if Eric was worth it.

  Nina straightened her shoulders and pulled the lapels of her coat tighter around her throat as she adjusted the heavy purse she carried over her shoulder. The life of a private investigator often made her feel as if she was a nomad. If she was ever mugged and her purse taken, she’d lose an entire chunk of her life, along with her active case files.

  Even as she put her hand on the handle of the door, it opened, startling her once again. She looked into yet another familiar face. Benson Carlson, the head maître d’ of Violet Lune.

  “Ms. Rodriguez! How delightful to see you,” Benson said as he took her gently by her elbow and guided her in the door. “May I take your coat? It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

  Not long enough. Two days ago, if asked, she would have confidently said she was over Eric and had closed the book once and for all on that part of her life. Now, she knew that she had been kidding herself. A scab might have formed, but the wound still ran deep. She wasn’t ready for this, not one bit.

  “I’m not staying,” Nina said. “Where’s Eric? I just need to drop something off.” It was eerie standing in the middle of the empty restaurant. It was a Friday night, and it took months to get a reservation for Violet Lune. Of course, Eric was always able to get in whenever he wanted. One of the perks of being a billionaire, she guessed.

  “Mr. Carmichael is waiting for you on the veranda,” Benson said, his eyes cutting toward the staircase that led to the small second story of the restaurant.

  Nina cursed again. There was one table in a large, posh booth at the top of the stairs, set far enough away from the railing overlooking the restaurant to make it feel exclusive and private. There could be hundreds of people in the restaurant below, and yet at the table on the veranda, it was as if you were the only person there.

  She plastered on a fake, benign smile. “Thank you, Benson.”

  She made her way toward the curving staircase on stiff legs. She wanted to say the chill she felt was from the air outside, but she knew it was the dreaded anticipation of seeing Eric again, face to face. She hated how that idea rattled her to her core.

  Why her? Why now? There were semi-logical answers to those questions, but she still didn’t understand why he had agreed to have her work his case when he had the world at his disposal to help him with it.

  Although it felt as if it took a year to climb the staircase, on the other hand, it felt as if time blinked by in a second. She felt her heart start to beat faster in her chest. She didn’t want to see him, and yet she did. The constant conflict of emotions was surely going to drive her mad.

  As she finally stepped up onto the veranda, she found Eric standing there with an elbow slung over the railing. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t even noticed that he must have been watching her ascent.

  “You look like you’re going to a fucking funeral,” he said with a mocking grin. “Surely you can’t be that upset about spending a little bit of time with me.” He straightened to his full height as his gaze raked over her body. She wouldn’t admit that she wore the sleek, chartreuse blouse and fitted A-line skirt because she wanted to look attractive yet entirely professional. When he started toward her, she was amazed again at the sheer size of him. Even though she wore her kitten heels, he still towered over her. His presence commanded attention in any room he was in, and she thought that had nothing to do with his cat. It was simply Eric.

  “I’m just dropping this off.” She pulled a manila envelope out of her purse and put it up in the air between them as if the flimsy thing could somehow make Eric keep his distance. “We can schedule a call to talk about what’s inside once you’ve had a chance to review it.”

  Eric’s hand crossed the distance between them, and then his hand engulfed hers. She gasped at the heat of his touch even as he pulled his fingers forward to take the folder out of hers. He turned and set the folder on a small side table that held a spray of flowers and a candle. Then he stepped closer. “Chef Marco is preparing your favorite dinner as we speak. It would be quite a disappointment to him if you didn’t stay long enough to enjoy it.”

  “I have another appointment I need to get to after this,” she lied.

  “Cancel it,” he said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it sent a ripple of heat through her body. Why did everything this man did affect her like that? It was maddening. “I’ll pay you twice whatever they’re paying you for your full and undivided attention tonight.”

  “I’m only here because of what you asked me to do, Eric. It wasn’t an invitation for anything else,” Nina said. She tried to keep her voice hard. “Especially in light of the fact that a naked woman was found dead in your bathroom two days ago.”

  Eric loomed over her, and it caused her to have to shift in her stance to look up into his eyes. There was a slight tightening of his jaw at her words. She had made him angry, but that was good. She could deal with an angry, petulant Eric. It was what she was used to, and it was one of the multitude of reasons why things could never have worked between them.

  “You and I both know I was framed. I might be a lot of things, Nina, but I’m not a murderer.”

  She did know that. That was the reason she’d agreed to help him even though she hated him. For a brief three-month period three years ago, she had lived and breathed Eric. It had been magical until it all came crashing down. She had been a fool for trusting him with something as precious as her heart.

  “I need to go,” she said with a slow gulp. The smell of his cologne caught in her nostrils, and it made her momentarily close her eyes. She caught herself just before she leaned in closer to him. He was a case. Another number for the file cabinet. That was it.

  He caught her arm as she turned. “Stay.” It was a one-word command, but it wasn’t spoken with his usual briskness. It held a note of pleading that she barely recognized. She cast her gaze back toward him. His usually stoic expression was open, and he looked slightly pained.

  Then her stomach growled, and the corners of his lips curled up in a faint grin. “Are you seriously going to tell me that I have to let Chef Marco know you turned up your nose at his ratatouille?”

  He had her intrigued, and she wanted to know what was happening in his head, especially with the few details he had been willing to tell her about his case. His mystery was appealing to her insatiable curiosity, which he probably also knew. They were quickly falling into a familiar dance.

  Nina sighed and then gave a small shrug. She had always loved Chef Marco’s ratatouille. “Fine. Thirty minutes. But then I have to go.”

  Eric’s face broke into a wide smile. He helped her out of her jacket, but she was careful not to let him touch her again as he guided her to the booth. He slid in one side, and she slid in the other, ensuring that she was directly across from him as opposed to next to him.

  Benson appeared out of nowhere at Eric’s side and presented a bottle of wine. “I found a lovely 2009 Bordeaux from La Mission Haut Brion in the wine cellar. May I?”

  Eric cocked his eyebrow at her. Hell, she was already there. She might as well have a drink. God knows she needed it if she was going to get through this meal, and she knew that Eric’s minimum spend on a bottle of wine was more than her current monthly rent. Nina nodded her assent, and a full wine glass appea
red in front of her a moment later. Benson gave a small bow and moved away, leaving them alone once again.

  Eric held up his glass. “A toast. To old friends.”

  Nina clinked his glass and took a long sip. The rich, tangy liquid warmed her instantly. “Just to be clear, Eric. We’re not friends. You are a client, and once this is done, you won’t be seeing me again.”

  Eric winced. “That hurts, Nina. After all this time, I’d have thought that you could at least enjoy a dinner and drink with someone who you had fond feelings for once upon a time.”

  Nina snorted. “The only thing I was happy to see back then was your backside.” She felt the rush of heat to her cheeks when she heard the words out loud. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Eric inched into the middle of the booth closer to her. He smirked. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve missed your backside too.”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder, trying not to give the appearance that he had rattled her in any way. The bedroom was one place where she and Eric spoke the same language fluently. But a relationship based on lust wasn’t a real relationship at all. She had certainly learned that one the hard way. She had been so naïve.

  “I’m not talking about any of that, Eric. Why don’t we talk about your case?”

  Eric pushed backward in his seat. “Let’s not spoil the mood.”

  “There’s no mood to spoil,” she said. She was about to say something else snarky when a waiter appeared with two steaming plates and set them down in front of them. She couldn’t remember if she had eaten at all that day, and her stomach growled again. This time, she barely noticed. With the exception of the three-month stint as Eric’s girl de jour, she was used to eating ramen noodles or cheap Chinese take-out on a regular basis, washed down with gallons of black coffee. Her business barely paid the bills, but it was hers, and that was all she cared about.

  She took her first forkful of the ratatouille and barely kept the moan of pleasure from escaping her lips. “Chef Marco is a God,” she said.