by Kiersten Fay
The outfit would never make a magazine cover, but it would have to do. Her panties were still deep sea diving as far as she knew. She’d go without.
After stabbing her feet into her high-heeled boots and grabbing her purse—disregarding her payment altogether—she raced for the door. Just as she turned to mutter, “See you never, you unbelievable ass,” the showered turned off.
“Did you say something?” His voice filtered through the apartment.
Damn. She forgot vampires had crazy good hearing. Adrenaline hammered her into action. She shut the door behind her and walked swiftly toward the elevator, heart pounding. She half expected him to come waltzing out buck-naked to confront her, but at the first press of the button, the metallic doors glided open, saving her from a long wait.
In the lobby, something delicious invaded her nostrils. It smelled like toasted bread and warm syrup. Her stomach clenched and grumbled as if to scream GIVE IT TO ME NOW! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had warmed syrup poured over hot buttered—
She mentally shook herself and made a beeline for the door. Her heels clacked on the floor, the sound echoing in the nearly empty club, drawing attention.
A curious head poked around the corner. It was Surfer Guy from last night. He smiled with recognition, “Hey!” Then he seemed to take in her unusual outfit before seeing something in her expression that wiped away his friendly grin. “Everything okay?”
“Tell your boss he’s a dick,” she snapped as she passed without slowing.
Outside, morning light didn’t greet her; it assaulted her. Accused her. Underneath the chirp, chirp, chirp of birds alerting the world to dawn, there was a note of disapproval in the air.
Her heels now made a duller yet no less severe sound on the parking lot asphalt. It was a condemnatory beat. She’d heard the term walk of shame, but this was ridiculous. At least it was so early in the morning not a lot of people were out and about. She might make it home without anyone even noticing. Ironically, her outfit screamed street walker. Ugh.
She’d made it several blocks before a car slowed to a crawl next to her. Inward groan.
She glanced over to tell the guy to fuck off, but her words were cut off when the passenger side window rolled down and it was Cortez who stared back at her. His hair was still damp from his shower and he wore a dark T-shirt that displayed his tightly muscled arms. Arms that had held her close while his body took her to the moon.
She faced forward, anger increasing her pace, even though there was no point in trying to speed-walk away from a running vehicle.
“If I’d known you had somewhere to be, I would have waited to take a shower so I could see you off.”
“Fuck you.”
Much like Surfer Guy, his brows arched at her choice words. “You’re livid.” His tone was irritatingly even. Of course she was livid. Why wouldn’t she be?
He cocked his head to study her as though trying to decipher the reason behind her anger. She wanted to slap that confused look right off his face. He muttered something to the driver. Before the car even stopped, he was stepping out. When he gripped her elbow to halt her furious steps, she ripped her arm away.
“Don’t touch me!”
He pulled back in surprise, but kept pace behind her. “What has spurred this displeasure?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Naia,” he warned as if she were getting on his nerves. “Stop and tell me what’s wrong.”
She didn’t stop, but his chagrin had her mouth running away with itself. “Oh, I don’t know, Cortez. Maybe it was the wad of cash by my purse and the fact that I didn’t realize I should have negotiated a price beforehand!”
He went quiet for a second. “Is it the money that’s angered you? Was it not enough?”
She choked out a sound of disbelief.
“I thought you would be appreciative.”
What did he think? That she’d be delighted with being paid for sex? That just because she’d wanted a job meant that she’d do anything for a paycheck? You’d gone there in the first place with the promise of money, her traitorous mind reminded. To infiltrate his club and then later betray him for a tidy windfall. Yet Cortez’s smaller sum seemed so much more...wrong. And if she was going to sell her body, she’d be worth a helluva lot more than a measly three hundred!
Letting out a noise of frustration, he gripped her by the shoulders and whirled her around to face him. “I’m no good at guessing games, Naia. I’ve never needed to be. Tell me what has angered you?”
“How do you not get it!” she snapped, facing him. He halted as well. “You won’t give me a job, but you’ll try to turn me into a prostitute? I have never been more disgusted, or insulted, in my life!” Then, as if she’d been touched by madness, her palm whipped out and cracked him hard across the cheek. His surprise mirrored her own. Only once in her life had she struck another in anger. Everything about the action was repugnant.
Too late she realized she’d just hit a vampire in the face. And not just any vampire, a clan leader and possible crime lord! These could be the last words she ever uttered.
Her already fast-beating heart went into overdrive.
Yet his mighty shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension. “That’s what you thought the money was for?”
She blinked at his incredulous tone. “Well, yeah. What else would it be for?”
“I wanted to reimburse you for the dress I ruined. I see now how you could come to the wrong conclusion.”
All the fight left her. Shifting her weight, she battled the sudden wave of embarrassment. “Oh.” Humiliation and regret teamed up to drag her gaze downward. Her hand came up to shade her eyes. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I just assumed....”
“This misunderstanding is as much my fault as it is yours. I should have realized what you might think if you woke up alone next to a stack of cash. Come. You must be uncomfortable in that outfit.” He opened the car door for her.
After a moment of hesitation, she maneuvered her butt onto the backseat and then tucked her legs in after her so she didn’t inadvertently flash him. His shadow of a grin told her he knew the reason for her awkward entrance, but said nothing as he scooted in next to her and closed the door.
She expected the driver to flip-a-bitch, but the car lurched forward instead. A few decisive turns suggested they weren’t headed back to the club at all. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home. That’s where you were going, wasn’t it?”
It was, but…
Without any direction, the driver turned right and then made the first left, heading south...toward her apartment. She sent Cortez a curious look.
He sighed, and then admitted, “I may have had Donovan follow you home yesterday.”
“What!? Why would you…?” Did he suspect her of nefarious intentions? She had nefarious intentions, but she thought she was a better actress than that.
She glanced up at the driver she guessed was named Donovan. Stone faced, he offered a clipped wave in the mirror. She had no doubt the only teeth he’d display was in a fang-filled sneer rather than any form of a smile. In fact, this entire trip his expression hadn’t changed, and he hadn’t spoken a word. His dangerous aura just now registered. If Cortez asked him to break someone’s bones, he might merely inquire, “How many?” never losing that hard expression.
Anxiety heated her blood, yet she shivered.
Cortez misunderstood and ordered Donovan to blast the heat. That actually settled some of her nerves. He was treating her with kindness. If he knew she was a double agent, surely he’d be less concerned about her comfort.
Still, she asked Cortez, “Where else did Donovan follow me?” If he’d seen her walk to Dante’s, she might still be in trouble. Although, she’d already admitted to having worked there, so maybe all she had to do was stick to her story about wanting a better job. That would be easy since it was true. So far it didn’t seem like Cortez suspected Dante of wanting to take him down,
or of employing her as a spy.
They pulled up to her apartment—straight to her friggin’ door! How had she not noticed being followed?
Her front door looked like home base right about now. A few small steps and she could finally relax.
With a relieved sigh, she thanked Cortez and apologized for the misunderstanding. So eager to end her poorly executed stint as a spy, she wasn’t even going to ask for the money for the dress. He could keep it. She’d pay Goldie back some other way. Meanwhile she’d have to let Dante know that she wasn’t cut out for this type of work. He’d have to find someone else. Besides, there was no way Cortez would hire her now. Not only had she basically accused him of trying to turn her into a streetwalker, she’d physically assaulted him to boot. Not to mention, as a rule he didn’t hire anyone he slept with.
Worst of all, he probably never wanted to see her again.
So when he followed her to the door, she glanced back at him in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“Coming inside,” he replied as though it should have been obvious. “The least you can do is invite me in for some tea or coffee.” For effect, he theatrically rubbed his cheek.
She cringed. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries. If someone tried to pay me for sex I’d be...well, flattered to be honest.” He smiled so wide she had to laugh.
She worked her key into the lock, jiggling it the way she always had to before it clicked open. By the time she realized what her dismal apartment looked like compared to his top-floor suite, he was striding through her living room. Today’s humiliation will never end.
“You live with someone,” he announced, though it looked as though Cole had folded and put away his blankets, so the couch just looked like a couch.
“How did you know?” The question was unnecessary. He probably caught Cole’s lingering scent.
Moments later, Cortez confirmed that. “I can smell him. Is it the man you were meant to meet up with last night?”
“I wasn’t meeting anyone,” she said. “And besides, my personal life is just that. Personal. I don’t appreciate you sending your driver to follow me yesterday.” Was that something he did with all his employees? Perhaps he was just really paranoid. Hell, he should be.
As if to prove her point, he glanced around like there were secrets hidden in the cracks of her walls. Then he shrugged as if her complaint were immaterial. “Is this your room?” He pointed to a closed door to the left. Without waiting for her answer, he barged through it.
“Hey!” She rushed after him.
Her room consisted of a bed with no frame, two cast-off, mismatched dressers, and a couple posters of her favorite singers. Other than that, it was pretty bare. She tried not to blush at that. Not everyone could live like a sultan at the top of a tower.
“Snoop much?” she chided.
“You like Kenny Raymond?” he inquired lightly, glancing at the poster of the singer sitting on a stool with his trademark acoustic guitar.
“No, I hate his music,” she joked sardonically.
Cortez shot her a crooked smile. “I’ve piqued your ire again.”
“I don’t typically bring guys home for a tour of my ratty apartment.”
“I suppose the man you live with wouldn’t like me here.”
He wouldn’t, but not for the reasons Cortez was thinking. She crossed her arms in answer.
His expression only grew mischievous as he strolled toward her at a slow, predatory pace. Some latent instinct to run had her dropping her arms as if readying to do just that, but she was caught in his gaze like a cobra to its tamer. And suddenly it was like he had command over every nerve in her body. Her heart revved as though in answer to his carnivorous gaze. Her nipples puckered behind the thin fabric of her shirt as if mutinously angling to draw his attention lower.
It worked, and his expression grew intense, hungry.
Breaths coming faster now, she tried to tamp down her response, but even as she did, a soft thrumming fired in her loins.
Reaching her, his hands lightly clasped her hips, and she allowed him to maneuver her against the wall before he kicked the door closed with a decisive thud.
She met his heavy-lidded gaze. A nervous lump in her throat made her audibly swallow. He followed the movement along her throat with the backs of his fingers, his eyes now rapped to where her pulse beat strongest. She shivered, goosebumps sprouting over her increasingly sensitive skin.
More to distract herself than a need for an explanation, she asked, “Why did you have me followed?”
“Because I was curious about you,” he muttered, still eyeing her throat. But then his warm, whiskey eyes met hers. “And, if you couldn’t tell, I’m attracted to you.” His right hand slipped to the small of her back, his body now deliciously flush against hers.
She let out a shaky laugh. “Oh, really? I didn’t get that. You should try being more obvious—” Her sarcastic words died in her throat as his lips claimed hers in a sizzling kiss that had her heart seizing and her body throbbing.
His strong hand traveled southward, reminding her that she still had no panties, making it too easy for him to breach the tail of her shirt and grab her backside. But she didn’t mind one bit.
She sighed into his mouth, turning her head to deepen the kiss. His tongue delved to lick the seam of her lips and she shuddered with an almost violent need. It blasted through her like a bullet through warm butter.
More.
Just when she hooked her arms around his neck to draw him closer, she heard the front door open and close.
Eyes flashing open, she broke the kiss in alarm. Did Cortez’s driver decide he’d rather not wait for him out in the car? She didn’t know how she felt about having one unmanageable vampire under her roof, let alone two.
Cortez pulled back and snapped, “Who’s that?” his tone dropping a shade darker. He was suddenly all rigid muscle, tense and suspicious as if she’d managed to lure him into a trap...or he was about to take out his purported competition.
Her blood pressure spiked. What time was it? Eight in the morning? Nine? Cole’s shift had ended at least an hour ago. In fact, she was surprised he wasn’t home already.
“Shit!” she whispered, then went into panic mode. “You have to hide.”
Cortez arched a dubious brow. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. Please. The closet!”
Letting go of her, he crossed his arms, indicating without words that was not an option. Briefly she debated trying to shove his massive, supernaturally strong form toward her closet, but quickly crossed that off as a pointless pursuit. Unless he allowed it, he wouldn’t budge.
“Fine. Just, uh, stay in here, then. Okay?”
Turning away from his deepening frown, she gripped the door handle.
“Is he your husband?”
She whirled around, appalled by the very notion. “Ew! NO! Gross!”
Surprised by her emphatic response, he blinked, losing some of the tension in his jaw.
“Just please do me a favor and stay here,” she repeated.
He gave a curt nod, but didn’t look happy.
Chapter 11
“Morning,” Cole said brightly as he looted the refrigerator. Behind her, she discreetly closed her bedroom door with a soft click—nothing to see here—and then crossed toward the kitchen. Though he’d worked a double, he seemed wired, which wasn’t unusual coming off the night shift. Another hour or two and he’d be passed out like the dead.
She just hoped Cortez would be willing to stay hidden that long. He didn’t seem like the patient type, and she seriously doubted she’d be able to convince him to sneak out her bedroom window like they were two teens trying not to get caught by her parents.
Seconds later, any hope of a clean getaway was dashed.
Cole snapped upright, all tense, and glared at something over her right shoulder. His features twisted into an expression she’d never before seen him use. He looked wary yet ready to fight.
Yet Cortez seemed oddly...upbeat? “Ah, you are siblings.” The way he said it held no mark of doubt.
She and Cole shared a look. No one ever guessed that they were related. They looked nothing alike, a result of differing fathers, and maybe something more with regard to her siren lineage. Whereas her skin was pale, his was tan. Her hair was dark, long, and ruler-straight, his was blond and cropped short. Her frame was small yet curvy, Cole was packed with tight muscles. Aside from the color of their eyes, piercing blue, they could not look more unalike if one of them was a different species entirely.
Which, technically, she was.
But that didn’t stop them from loving each other like full-blood relations, and being fiercely protective of the another. Which was why Cole’s first question wasn’t Who is this man you’ve brought home, dear sis?
He met her gaze head on and asked, “Did you pick up that butterscotch I wanted?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, they were out.” It was their secret code to let the other know all was well...or if she’d said yes, danger, danger, we need to bounce because all hell was about to break loose. They’d invented the codeword as children and used it when they were misbehaving and wanted to hide whatever deed they were engaging in from their mother. Then later when they were hustling and one of them thought their situation might get too heated. Everyone who knew them thought they just weirdly loved butterscotch. It was a great cipher that no one had ever decoded.
No one until Cortez.
He shifted his weight. “Did you just ask her if I was a threat?”
Her jaw dropped. Cole’s narrowed eyes slanted at her in betrayal. “You told him about butterscotch?”
“No! Of course not. ” she hissed. “But you just confirmed it.”