CHAPTER FIVE
Teresa
Way to keep your eyes on the prize, idiot.
What happened to This is a job. Eyes open. Take it seriously?
It got scrambled up by earthy man smell and hairy, corded forearms. And that mouth. Mother of God, that mouth. I can’t even imagine how many women need to be kissed to achieve that expert level of skill. I don’t want to know, either, because it makes me want to smack him, which is scary in itself. I’ve dated players who might as well have mounted their notched bedposts on their mantles and I never gave a flying squirrel about their pasts. Yet I’m jealous over a guy I’m supposed to be conning?
Paging common sense. Come in, common sense.
We’re crossing the twilight-draped parking lot, heading for the tavern. There is a dozen or so motorcycles parked outside, Queens of the Stone Age blaring from its dark depths, smokers congregated in a circle near the entrance. Will wanted to take me to a nicer place downtown—maybe an outdoor café where Southpaw can cool his heels while we eat—but what little common sense remains in my hollow head told me that was a bad idea, so I suggested the tavern. I need a quick escape route to my room, where I can lock myself in the bathroom if he comes on to me again. And he will.
Sex—or at least, the promise of it—is going to be part of this job. I kind of encouraged that idea by introducing my nipples to Will before telling him my name, didn’t I? Resisting the pull for more, for all, wasn’t supposed to be so difficult, though. I never expected to feel this level of attraction for Will. Nor did I expect these currents running between us to be so…personal. I can’t really describe the way we look at one another, because I’ve never had anyone look at me like Will does. Like he’s dying to get to the bottom of me. Metaphorically and physically.
Who was the girl who went all limp and needy in the face of his aggression? I don’t know her. I’m not interested in meeting her, either. Especially now, when there is so much at stake. How my brother lives his life. Maybe his life in general. So maybe that kiss was a good thing. A warning shot. If I let him physically overwhelm me, mistakes could be made. I could slip up and say something that would clue him in to why I’m really here—and that kind of mistake would lead to Will getting in touch with Silas. I won’t be in New York to protect Nicky from the fallout if I fail Silas. Not to mention, a mistake could screw up Will’s relationship with his father even more than it already seems to be. Which would put a big ugly target on my back.
When I look at Will, I need to remember that he’s just a man. He might be smarter than the average bear and sexier than hell, but his species is genetically predisposed to disappoint. Or get bored. Or bounce just when things look optimistic. I’ve been there, done that, and this stupid flutter he gives me in my stomach isn’t going to distract me from the task at hand.
Will tosses a chewed-up tennis ball up in the air for Southpaw. He leaps for it, landing on the asphalt with a happy grunt. He charges Will, ducking down to head-butt his owner’s thigh, then drops the slobber ball between his boots. “You want to give it a whirl?” Will asks, holding up the dripping green object. “I can give you a tetanus shot later.”
“Ha. Um…” I start to decline. Not because I don’t want to throw the ball, but because I’m finding it hard to even look at Southpaw. I’m not supposed to know he’s got a date with death, but I do. And my cold, dead heart apparently isn’t quite as cold and dead as I thought, because I want to cradle his big, dirty head and sing Angel by Sarah McLachlan at the top of my lungs. I swallow hard and paste a smile on my face. “Sure.”
Will lobs me the ball. Southpaw bounds toward me, his nails clicking on the ground, tongue lolling out. If it weren’t impossible, I would swear his expression says, let’s see what you got, lady. So I fake him out. He turns in a circle, yips and returns with a look of utter outrage.
“Sorry, couldn’t help it, big guy.” After a quick, contrite scratch of his head with my free hand, I toss the slobber sphere up, up—and it bounces off a beat-up Buick, setting off the car alarm. Southpaw still makes the catch, trotting back toward me and a laughing Will looking all smug, as if to say, what now, humans?
“I think that’s our cue to leave.” Will’s arm snakes around my waist, tugging me toward the tavern, his breath warm in my ear. “We’ll work on your throw, baby.”
A traitorous pulse starts thrumming between my legs. “I was just testing his versatility. He passed.”
“Sure.” Will holds open the door to the tavern, leaving only enough room for me to squeeze past, Southpaw at my heels. My breasts rub along Will’s chest, setting off the jerking flex of his jaw. “Stay close to me in this place.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re not giving me much of a choice.”
His smile is the furthest thing from repentant as he takes a firm hold of my hand, leading me deeper into the loud, rowdy establishment. On the way to an open spot at the bar, I give fate the side eye. I’m definitely not looking for a man. But leave it to fate to throw one into my path who digs my attitude and stun gun, when nothing can come from it. Not even a fun, guilt-free diversion.
Will slides out a wobbly stool—the only one available—and tests its sturdiness. Or at least, that’s what I think he’s doing, until I see his eyes. Directed at the men around us, they’re full of dark warning. He passes on some kind of caveman don’t even fucking think about approaching her signal to each of them, one by one, and I’ve never been more aware of getting wet in my entire life. It’s like someone pressed a warm washcloth to the juncture of my thighs and rubbed side to side. By the time he slaps the split leather seat, indicating I should climb on, I’m flushed head to toe.
As soon as I’m seated, legs crossed, Southpaw takes up residence between me and the closest male customer. Will and I reach down to pet him at the same time and our hands collide. We share an intimate look over my shoulder and I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he pushes aside my hair, leans in and breathes against the back of my neck. The warm washcloth feeling intensifies, my most intimate muscles squeezing hard. Harder than ever.
“I wondered if it was a fluke. Southpaw being protective over you earlier in the hallway.” His thumb traces up my nape slowly, all five of his fingers burying in my hair. Tugging gently. “Not a fluke, though. He likes you.”
Your dog is a bad judge of character. “He’s protective, huh?” He tugs my hair again and it turns my voice to a rasp. “Like father, like son.”
His low, rumbling laugh breaks goosebumps out down my arms. “Yeah. It’s unusual on both counts.”
“Is it?”
Another tug, this time a touch harder. Enough to bring my head back, our gazes colliding. “Yeah.”
“Apparently you both like to mark your territory, too,” I say, turning in my seat to face him. His hand drops from my hair and no longer having it there, I can’t deny a kick of disappointment.
As if me making the accusation out loud allows him to drop pretense, his eyes go hard and rake over me. At the end of their journey, his head drops, that skilled kisser’s mouth pressing to my ear. “Those legs could start a fucking riot, woman. A man who doesn’t lay claim to them…and all the sweetness you’ve got attached…isn’t worth a damn minute of your time.”
His smoky drawl has turned my nipples to certified spikes. “Are we going to have an actual conversation or spend the whole night…gorging?”
“What are you doing in Texas?”
I’m so startled by his abrupt question that it takes me a beat to realize throwing me off was his intention. At least partly. His wide, powerful body is still exuding a monster dose of lust. We’re practically nose to nose, both of us breathing heavy, and I get the distinct impression he’s scrutinizing every blink, every lick of my lips. I’m finally meeting the millionaire hedge fund manager. Unofficially, of course.
I have a story all ready to go about visiting a friend on the east coast. About wanting to see the country along the way. But when I open my mouth, guilt catches me off guard and I find myself sticking much closer to the truth than I intended.
“I needed to get out of Los Angeles for a while.” Taking a sip of my freshly delivered beer, I choose every word carefully. “I make decent money at my job, but there’s some…danger involved. It was making me claustrophobic. Scared, too, I guess.” His thumb strokes my neck, like he can’t help but comfort me even though his narrowed eyes are zeroed in on me, weighing, analyzing. “Anyway, my friend in New York invited me to visit and I jumped at the chance. Figured I’d see the good old US of A while she gets the couch ready for me.”
“New York.”
Making my expression fathomless, I nod. “Yeah. Never been to the Big Apple. I’m excited.”
Quietly, he reaches past me to retrieve his beer, taking a deep pull, before setting the half-empty glass back on the bar. “Tell me about this dangerous job in Los Angeles.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why did you mention it, then? You had to know I’d bite.”
The conversation is moving too fast, so I uncross and recross my legs, drawing molten eyes toward the action. “Aw, you don’t bite too hard, I hope.”
“The hardest. And you’ll love it.” He tips my chin up with two big fingers. “Let’s hear about the job.”
I wasn’t lying when I said my job was dangerous. And it’s the craziest thing, but I want to tell Will about the den. How I’ve wanted to escape it for a long time, but the money was too good. Too needed. It’s all true. And I’ve had no one to confide my fears and frustrations in. Even before Nicky went on his trip to New York, I never spoke to him about my job, lest he worry. What’s the harm in talking to Will about my job, when it has no bearing on my mission? “I…”
His fingers are still lifting my chin. “Teresa.”
“A gambling parlor. An illegal one.” Weight topples from my shoulders. “I’m a hostess of sorts. Trading money for chips, watching for collusion and reporting it to the boss. Soothing damaged egos with free drinks. Managing the books. Sometimes I deal if we’re short-handed.”
A series of beats pass. “That’s not what I was expecting.” Distaste twists his mouth, his fingers dropping from my chin. “I don’t like it.”
His tone tells me he’s just made the understatement of the year. Having him on my side is…nice, though. I graduated with my accounting degree around the same time my parents passed, so I’ve been carrying this burden alone. The burden of knowing I ended up in an illegal profession, despite my father’s efforts to give us all a clean life. Despite the fact that I yearn for something different.
I refuse to let Nicky fall into the same trap I’ve fallen into.
Girls who make deals with gangsters don’t end up in film school.
Noticing Will’s scrutiny, I default back to a flirtatious smile. “Blah. I don’t like my job neither.” With another sip of beer, I keep going, hearing catcalls and shuffling chips in my head. “New York for a while just seemed like a good idea.”
“How long are you planning to stay there?”
I shrug. “Not sure. Long enough to figure out what’s next.” Not liking the weight of the lies on my tongue, I straighten my spine, letting him see what his attention has done to my body. My breasts. “What about you? Are you headed east, too?”
Will’s muscles tighten, his hands seeming to move on their own as they settle on my thighs, kneading. “No.” His unreadable gaze lifts to mine. “I’m going in the opposite direction.”