CHAPTER SIX
“Miss Lyons?”
Halfway up the path leading to the bar, I turned to see a balding man with close-set eyes and a jowly face coming toward me, wiping a hand down the blazer of his gray suit. My inner alarms dinged. “What do you want?”
If he was fazed by my rudeness, he didn’t show it. “I left some voicemails on your phone. I’m Noah Linton.”
I didn’t shake the hand he held out. “Goodbye, Mr. Linton.” I spun on my heel and headed for the bar.
“Wait!” He hurried to match my stride. “Your stepfather did warn me that you don’t do interviews, but I’m not looking for a story. I wish to explore—”
“I really don’t care, Mr. Linton. If you want to ponder the workings of Michael Bale’s mind, you don’t need me for that.”
“Interesting that you refer to him by his name, not ‘my stepfather,’” he mused.
“Is it?”
“I’ve spent many years delving into the criminal mind. I think sociopaths are wildly misunderstood.”
That brought me up short. I double-blinked. “Misunderstood?”
“Not all of them kill, just like not all killers are sociopaths. What they like is power. People have different definitions of power—money, fame, respect, etc. For some, the ultimate power is the control over whether someone lives or dies.”
“Then those particular people should have been surgeons. Now, if you’ll excuse me …”
“Perhaps we could have coffee together. I have a cab waiting just there. We could go wherever you’d like and—”
“No.” I reached the bar, but I didn’t open the door. I didn’t want him stepping a single foot inside. “Leave, Linton. Don’t waste time out of our lives again.”
“But—”
“Everything okay here?” clipped Cade, walking out of CCC while rubbing his hands on an oily rag.
Linton nervously adjusted the lapels of his jacket. “Yes, of course. We’re just talking. And you are?”
Cade hummed. “Seems to me like Kensey doesn’t want to talk to you. Am I right?”
Linton’s mouth thinned. “Yes, but—”
“Then I’m going to ask you to get off my property and leave her the fuck alone.”
Linton looked from Cade to me and then drew himself to his full height. “Miss Lyons, I do hope you’ll reconsider speaking with me. I gave you my number in the voicemails I left you. Feel free to call me anytime.” With that, he walked over to the cab that was idling at the curb.
Cade crossed to me. “You okay?”
I nodded, watching as the cab disappeared down the road.
“Is that the guy you told my dad about? The true crime writer?”
“Yep.”
“Is he also the reason you’ve been acting shifty lately? You and Sarah seem to do a lot of whispering these days.”
Guilt tugged at me. Cade was a good friend, and I didn’t like keeping anything so big from him. The problem was that he was also an extremely overprotective friend, so he’d completely overreact if he heard about Ricky Tate. Unless or until I absolutely had to tell him, I didn’t intend to do so.
“I thought it might have been something to do with Blake Mercier,” Cade added, watching me carefully. “Nancy told me that you had coffee with him at the diner.”
Shit. I’d forgotten that she was a real Chatty Cathy. “He and I were just resolving our differences.” I hadn’t seen him since. “Anyway, I have to get to work.”
“You doing anything later?”
“I’m going out with Sarah.” She was intent on making me have fun and forget about Ricky.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.” My brow furrowed. “She’s been very mysterious about it.”
It wasn’t until later that day, while she and I were getting ready at her apartment, that she finally spilled the beans. “Edilio’s going to sneak us into the Redwater Golf Clubhouse.”
I gaped, not quite sharing her excitement. “The Clubhouse?”
“Yep. You’re welcome!”
“The place is exclusive to paying members. Even if your cousin did successfully manage to sneak us in, we wouldn’t be able to afford drinks.” The prices would be outrageous.
“Duh, Edilio’s the bartender—he can give us drinks for free.” She planted one hand on her hip. “Tonight, I am not Sarah, and you are not Kensey. No, you can call me Zara, and I will call you Keeley.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
I shook my head, incredulous. The girl was insane.
The Clubhouse was, in a word, opulent. A far cry from Chrome Canvas Bar with its glossy marble floor, high ceiling, tiered chandeliers, and panel moldings. It wasn’t the décor that made me feel out of place, though. It was the glitter of expensive jewelry, the gleam of designer shoes, and the slick and perfectly styled hairdos. I didn’t fit there. Not even with my red satin dress and pretty high heels. Well, Sarah’s dress and heels—I’d borrowed them for the evening.
I was grateful for the dim lighting. I wanted nothing more than to blend into the background … but it was damn hard to do that when your friend insisted on sitting at the bar, where many people had gathered. Others mingled around high tables or milled around the outdoor pool, though none appeared to be in the pool.
Me? I was bored out of my mind.
As Sarah and Edilio laughed over childhood memories, I sipped my mojito, wishing we were at a real club with some decent music, dancing, and an upbeat atmosphere. Everything was too serene here with the soft background music and quiet chatter and gentle clinking of glasses.
Sarah turned to me, beaming. “Isn’t this place fabulous?”
“No.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know, you could at least smile. It’ll help those guys who’ve been ogling you to get up the courage to come over. Blondie’s practically hanging on the edge of his seat, but he’s holding back. So smile.”
“About what?”
She chuckled. “Edilio’s kind of cute, right?”
Now I was the one rolling my eyes. “Is that what this is about? You want to set me up with your cousin?”
“He’s a nice guy. Not your usual type, in other words. You have to admit that you have a tendency to go for total dicks. My cousin’s a fucking treasure.”
I rubbed my temple. “I’m sure he is, Sarah. Really. But …”
Her face fell. “You’re just not feeling it.”
“No,” I admitted. “Maybe it’s because I’ve known him since we were kids, I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t think he’ll care.” I gestured at the flurry of women at the bar who were flirting with him.
Sarah snickered. “Such is the life of Edilio. He could charm just about anyone. Except you, evidently.” Her eyes darted over my shoulder and twinkled with delight. “Ooh, Blondie’s finally making his move. I’m going to the restroom. See ya.”
“Wait,” I hissed, but she was gone before I could even slide off the stool. Then an eleven feet tall blond, Viking-like guy appeared in my line of vision. Okay, he wasn’t eleven feet, but he was damn tall.
“Hi,” he said, smile wide.
My own smile was a little strained. “Hi.”
“I saw you while I was sitting at the end of the bar. I knew if I didn’t at least come and say hey, I’d be kicking myself for the rest of the weekend.” He offered his hand. “I’m Oliver.”
I shook his hand. “Kensey.” I pulled back when he held on too long. He immediately let go. Not like a certain Maserati owner who wouldn’t have let go until he was good and ready, I thought.
Oliver tilted his head. “I haven’t seen you here before. I’d remember you.”
“I’m new.” And currently wishing I was at home.
“I’d ask if I could get you a drink, but you’re already nursing one.” He leaned against the bar. “So, do you think it’s weird that men wax their backs or what?”
I chuckled, taken off-guard.
“You have a great laugh.” He pursed his lips. “I noticed that your friend seems involved with the bartender. Does that mean you’re going home alone?”
“Hey, Oliver,” a woman purred from behind him.
Eyes hardening, he ground his teeth. “Just excuse me one second, Kensey.” He turned and hissed something I couldn’t quite catch at the woman. She didn’t walk away. She peeked around him, narrowed her eyes on me, and then started hissing right back at him. Stifling a smile, I bit the inside of my cheek, thinking—
A mouth grazed my ear just as someone pressed against my back. “Kensey Lyons, what a surprise.” The deep, authoritative voice was pure liquid sex. It also belonged to Blake fucking Mercier. Great. Just freaking great.
I took a calming sip of wine, trying to ignore the pleasant chill that came from his cool breath on my ear. “So, you’re a member here.” Fuck.
“You could say that.” He moved so that his front was pressed against my side. “You, on the other hand, are not a member.”
I didn’t meet his eyes, not wanting to get caught up in one of his sexually charged looks. “You going to tattle on me?”
“Lucky for you, you know the owner.”
And then the lightbulb went on. I sighed. “This place is yours, isn’t it?” Which was just my fucking luck.
He cupped my chin and turned my face to his. “Mine,” he confirmed. And my brain just sort of … short-circuited or something, because there was no way I should have a full-body shiver from one whispered word.
Oliver turned back to me. “Sorry about that, I …” His brows lifted. “Mr. Mercier.”
Sarah reappeared then, grinning. “Hey, I’m back. Are you—Oh, shit.” Her eyes were wide as they bounced from me to Blake. There was no surprise on her face, but there was enough panic to tell me she’d known the place belonged to him but hadn’t expected to see him there. Well, she could have freaking warned me.
Oliver was also looking at us curiously. “You know Kensey?” he asked Blake.
“I know her,” said Blake, curving his hand around my nape. “Thank you for keeping her company while I took care of business. Come on, baby.”
I tensed. “But—”
“We’ll be outside,” Blake told Sarah. “I’m sure Edilio will keep you company.” The glance he flicked at the bartender held a reprimand that made Edilio wince.
“I’ll be fine,” I assured Sarah as Blake began guiding me away with his hand still on my nape. People stopped him several times to try to engage him in conversation, all wanting his time and acknowledgement. His responses were brief but polite, and he never once loosened his hold on me. Some nodded at me. Others cast me a curious, assessing glance that made my scalp prickle.
As we stepped outside, the scent of chlorine hit me. The moonlight dappled water lapped gently at the edges of the expansive pool. “You can let go of me now.”
His grip flexed. “If I do that, you might run again.”
My spine snapped straight. “I don’t run.” And I was pretty sure he only accused me of doing so because he knew it annoyed me.
He shepherded me into an open, pool house cabana that was dim apart from the flickering candles on the glass table. It was both cozy and stylish, and I made a mental note to buy one if I ever won the lottery. He gestured at the curved, white-cushioned sofa. “Sit.”
I did so, tensing when he sat way too close for comfort. It was impossible to not be keenly aware of each and every masculine inch of him. The tension in the air thickened until it was almost unbearable. “I’m surprised this cabana was empty,” I said, mouth dry.
“It’s mine.” His voice, deep and velvety warm, both soothed my frayed nerves and made my body hum. “Nobody sits here unless I invite them to.” He twisted to better face me, his knee bumping my thigh, and rested his arm along the back of the sofa. He watched me with brooding, hooded eyes that glinted with speculation. “Why do you work in a bar?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I can see the sharp mind that works behind those eyes. You’re a smart girl. You’re wasted in a bar.”
Okay, well that comment completely disarmed me. Which totally wasn’t fair, because I wanted to be annoyed with him.
“Tell me,” he coaxed.
I shrugged. “I enjoy it.”
“Hmm.” The fingers tapping the edge of the sofa paused to brush stray strands of hair over my shoulder. “I love the way your hair falls down your back like dark water,” he said, tone smooth as silk.
Maybe I should have been thrilled to hear yet another compliment, but I found myself wary. As my hand was shaking a little, I put my glass on the table. “Thanks, I guess.”
His mouth twitched. “So much suspicion in those pretty eyes.”
Pretty? I frowned, pointing out, “They don’t match.”
“Aside from your mouth, they’re my favorite thing about you. One’s a rich cornflower blue; one’s a deep forest green. And they’re both huge pools of trouble.”
“Trouble?” I echoed in a tone that warned him to rethink that word.
I gaped. “How exactly?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever obsessed over anything before, and I don’t much like the feeling. I’ve thought of nothing but having you under me. It hasn’t helped that you’ve been fighting the inevitable.” His eyes glittered with satisfaction as he added, “But now you’ve come to me.”
I straightened. “Um, no, I didn’t know the Clubhouse belonged to you. If I had, I never would have come.”
“Really?”
Actually, I couldn’t be sure about that. “Really.” I was about to edge away, but I’d obviously telegraphed my intent somehow because his hand settled on my thigh, warm and possessive. I stilled, and he rubbed my thigh in what seemed like a reward. “You won’t fire Edilio, will you?” I asked.
“I can’t guarantee that. The Clubhouse is exclusive to members—he knows that. People pay a lot of money to be part of this club. Imagine how they’d feel to discover that some get in here for free.”
“He only did it because Sarah talked him into it.”
“So I should let this slide?” He pursed his lips, softly tracing a circle on my thigh with his thumb. “I suppose I could. For a price.”
“Define ‘price.’”
“You have to answer three questions honestly.”
Thrown by that, I double-blinked.
“Oh, you thought my price would be a night in my bed? No, Kensey, I don’t blackmail women for sex. And we both know it’s only a matter of time before I have you.” He lifted a brow. “So, do we have a deal or not?”
I forced my back teeth to unlock. “We have a deal.” I sighed. “Let me guess. You want to know if I truly tried to kill myself.”
“I’ve already figured out that didn’t happen. My first question is … how did you get that scar on your lip?”
“Haven’t you heard that it’s insensitive to ask a person about their scars?”
“You don’t strike me as a sensitive person. Libby Williams told me you got the scar from a barfight when you were tanked up on crack. And no, I don’t believe that story. I’d like to know what really happened.”
I seriously ought to smack the shit out of Libby. “I was held at knifepoint.”
He stiffened, face darkening in a way that chilled me. Something not holy on the side of the angels flashed in his eyes. The air suddenly felt … oppressive. “By who?”
“Is that your second question?”
“No. It’s a continuation of the first, since you were deliberately vague.”
“You never said I had to give you lengthy answers,” I pointed out.
His mouth curved slightly. Just like that, the air was no longer so thick and stifling. “Sneaky,” he drawled. “Fine, then; we’ll call this my second question. Who held you at knifepoint?”
“I genuinely don’t know.”
When I didn’t elaborate, Blake leaned forward and said, “You’re testing my patience, Kensey.” The words were soft but vibrated with irritation. “That’s not a good idea for you. Especially when losing my patience would mean losing what hold I have on the temptation to kiss that smile right off your mouth. I want details.”
Bastard. As I didn’t want him to think I was deliberately testing his control for a kiss, I said, “I don’t know who it was. Even if they hadn’t worn a balaclava, it was dark and happened so fast that I didn’t register much.” My attention had mostly been on the blade. “I put up a fight, but the knife sliced into my lip during the struggle. I don’t think they meant to hurt me; just mug me, because the moment they realized I was bleeding, they ran. So, what’s your third and final question?”
“Why do you watch your surroundings with wary eyes?”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
“Don’t lie to me. I can see that you’re tempted to, but don’t.”
I licked my lower lip. “I can’t answer that question.” Not with total honesty.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t.”
He exhaled heavily. “Poor Edilio.” His head tilted. “Do you have trouble dogging your heels?”
“No.” I had a dumb little fucker playing tiring games with me, but I didn’t think of him as ‘trouble.’
Face hardening, Blake leaned forward so close, his nose almost brushed mine. “Now why would you lie to me, Kensey?”
“I’m not.” My voice cracked. Well, if he wasn’t all up in my space, sending my hormones into a frenzy, I’d be completely fine.
“Tell me who’s bothering you, and I’ll deal with it. I’ll make it all go away.”
Never in my adult life had I looked to someone to take care of my problems for me. I wouldn’t start that now. But damn if it wasn’t a little tempting to just hand the mess over to him. If anyone could unravel this shit and locate Ricky Tate, it was the capable, level-headed male in front of me who I instinctively sensed could manage any curve ball. But this was my curve ball to handle. “I shovel my own shit.”
Unbearably tense seconds ticked by as he stared at me, silent. Finally, he said, “I want to help you, but you’re being deliberately vague. And that’s poking at what very little patience I have left. Tell me who’s giving you this shit to shovel, or get ready for me to taste you.”
My heart slammed in my chest. How the hell did I get myself into this situation? Sarah. I blamed Sarah. “It’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated?”
“The matter I’m dealing with. I’m no damsel, Mercier, I don’t need a white knight.”
“And I’m no white knight. But then, you already know that, don’t you? That’s the one thing that I don’t like about you. I feel like you can see right through me, all the way to where the demons are lurking.”
Yeah, I’d spotted those demons. Maybe they wouldn’t have hit my radar if I hadn’t already glimpsed such darkness in another person. The flashes I’d seen in Michael chilled me right to the bone; there was no missing the malice there. The flashes I’d seen in Blake raised the hairs on my skin, but I didn’t sense any real cruelty in him. Ruthlessness, yes, but not malevolence.
“We all have our inner demons,” I said. “Sometimes, mine have pretty interesting ideas.”
He smiled at that, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “There’s no sense in downplaying this, Kensey. I know that I scare you.”
I wasn’t afraid of him, I was afraid of becoming my mother—going for the bad boy, the one that emanated danger. This guy might not be a sociopath, but he was definitely dangerous in his own way. That he could affect me like this when I was never drawn to guys like him—that spooked me. Of course, I had no intention of sharing any of that. “I’m not scared.”
His fingers delved into my hair. “You lied again,” he reprimanded. His mouth closed over mine and his tongue boldly sank inside. Just like that, the raw need humming between us simply exploded.
He kissed me so hard he sucked the breath from my lungs and every sane thought from my head. Hell, it was so hot and sexual it might as well have been sex. Molten lust poured through me like warm honey, and all I wanted was more.
The strong hand in my hair held me exactly how he wanted me as he greedily possessed my mouth, his fingertips digging into my scalp just enough to feel good. Never passive, I tried angling my head to deepen the kiss, but he pulled hard on my hair to hold me still. It should have pissed me off, but I found myself moaning.
The hand on my thigh yanked me closer to him. I planted my hands on his chest—it was hard and packed with muscle. I probably should have pushed him away. I didn’t. Instead, I fisted his shirt and sucked on his tongue. His growl vibrated in his chest and poured down my throat. I wanted to drown in him. And that was bad. But I couldn’t quite pull back. Every cell in my body seemed to scream with frustration. Scream for him.
“Come with me,” he whispered, flicking out his tongue to trace my scar. His hot, clever mouth took mine again before I could answer. “Don’t think. Just come with me.” He sucked on my pulse, and I melted into him with a soft moan.
A cell began to ring, jolting me out of my pliant state, and the spell was broken.
I shoved away from him, seriously pissed at myself for being so weak. “I have to go.” I raked my hand through my hair. “I know I must seem like a fucking cock tease right now, but I’m not. I swear. This just … It can’t happen.”
His head tilted, and he seemed to be weighing my words. I tried to stand, but his hands caught my face. “Shh. Calm down. No one’s calling you a cock tease. Now, why can’t this happen?”
“Your phone’s still ringing.”
“Answer my question, Kensey.”
“Just forget it. There are a whole lot of women here who I’m sure will follow you wherever you want to go.”
“I want the prickly, flight-risk sitting right here glaring at me.” His teeth tugged on my lower lip hard enough to sting. “I want to see her pretty eyes glaze over while I fuck in and out of her pussy until she can’t take it anymore.”
“Kenz?” Sarah’s voice came from outside the cabana, shaking with nerves.
He bit out a harsh curse. “Kensey …”
I swallowed and repeated, “I have to go.”
A muscle in his cheek ticked. “You sure that’s what you want?”
No. “It’s what I’m going to do.”
He brushed his nose against mine. “Why fight the inevitable, Kensey? Why?”
“Kenz?” Sarah called out, louder this time. “I need to know you’re okay. If that rich motherfucker is bugging you—”
With another curse, he let go of me and rose from the sofa. I followed him as, jaw hard, he stalked out of the cabana.
Sarah jumped back in alarm. “I just want to check on Kensey.”
“She’s fine,” he bit out.
Drawing herself to her full height, as if braced for war, Sarah spoke, “Look, about Edilio—”
“He won’t get fired,” began Blake, “providing he doesn’t pull that shit again. If you girls get the urge to come here, you call me. You don’t put his job at risk.”
“C-call you?” asked Sarah, stunned.
Blake turned to me as he fished something out of his pocket. Holding a business card between his thumb and forefinger, he said, “Take it. If you need anything or that trouble you won’t talk about gets too close, you call me. Now come on.”
“Wait, what?” But he was already pulling me through the crowds, his hand cuffing my wrist. I was about to wrestle out of his grip, but Sarah elbowed me and then slashed a hand against her neck. She didn’t want me pushing him, worried for Edilio. So, with a resigned sigh, I let Blake guide me out of the Clubhouse and over to a black Lexus that was parked in the circular driveway. A tall, burly guy leaned against it, smoking a cigarette.
“Rossi will take you both home,” said Blake. The driver flicked him a look of surprise and then inclined his head at us.
Sarah smiled. “Cool.” She happily climbed into the car, but I wasn’t so keen. I didn’t know either guy, and I didn’t like accepting favors.
I turned to Blake. “Look, you don’t have to—”
He put a finger against my mouth. “Get in the fucking car, baby,” he whispered softly. “I want the peace of mind that you got home safely. Where’s the harm in giving me that?”
“Come on, Kenz, let’s go,” urged Sarah.
With yet another resigned sigh, I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. Blake rested his hand on my head as I hopped inside, protecting it from the roof of the car. He shut the door and then spoke quietly to the driver, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“That guy is a menace,” I muttered.
Sarah’s eyes widened. “I think he’s fabulous.”
“Fabulous?”
“Hey, he let Edilio keep his job, he didn’t throw us out on our asses, he saved us from paying an outrageous cab price, and he’s allowing us to come back here—the guy is fucking awesome. Especially since he’s offered to help you. That’s the kind of person I’d want on my side if I had a stalker.”
I clenched my teeth. “I don’t have a stalker.”
“Like I’ve said before, it’s close enough to count.”
Rossi slid into the driver’s seat. “Right, girls, where am I taking you?”
As Sarah rattled off our addresses, I looked out of the window at Blake. He was staring at me, expression unreadable. God, he was annoying. Stubborn. Determined. And I wanted him with a ferocious intensity that spooked the shit out of me.
Almost as if he knew what I was thinking, Blake gave me a wolfish smile and backed away from the car. Rossi then put the car in gear and drove off.
As my place was closer to the Clubhouse than Sarah’s apartment was, Rossi took me home first. He didn’t pull away from the curb until I was safely inside the building—I wondered if Blake had asked him to wait or if Rossi was just being courteous.
Considering it was the early hours of the morning, the place should have been quiet. No, as I wandered up the stairwell, I could hear muffled voices, the cry of a baby, and a TV blaring. I could also smell pot coming from the floor beneath mine. Hopefully that smell wouldn’t find its way into my apartment.
Reaching my floor, I dug my keys out of my purse, wondering if I should go straight to bed or—
My front door was ajar.
I froze, switching from tired to alert in a single instant. The hairs on my nape and arms stood on end. I’d locked the door before leaving. Definitely locked the door. Fuck, was Ricky in there, the little bastard? Maybe.
Even as I told myself that I should just hang back and call the police, I found myself taking a step forward. As quietly as any woman could move on high heels, I slowly and cautiously crossed to the door, but I didn’t open it. I stayed completely still, listening hard for any noises coming from inside the apartment. And I heard … snoring. It was a snore I knew well.
Exhaling heavily in both relief and exasperation, I shoved open my door and walked inside. As I flicked on the light, Cade bolted upright on the sofa, shielding his eyes like I was holding a damn solar flare. I could smell his brand of beer, as if it were seeping fast out of his pores.
I slammed the door shut. “Dammit, Cade, I thought—” I scrubbed a hand down my face.
“Thought what?” he mumbled, collapsing back onto the pillows he’d clearly gotten out of the closet, along with the blanket he’d draped over himself. He’d stayed over enough times to know where I kept them.
“That someone had broken in,” I replied.
He grunted. “I need to crash here.”
“Fine.” I turned off the light and locked the door. “Just don’t vomit on the sofa again.”
His brows drew together. “Hey, I replaced the sofa.”
“Yeah, and I’d like to keep this one.” Leaving him to sleep, I headed to my own bed.