Beneath These Lies (10 page)

Rix nodded and pushed off the glass, and as he talked, he paced out of the bathroom into the bedroom. I followed, not willing to miss a single word.

“She’s fine. Yeah, she’s scared, but I told her not to be.”

“I need to talk to her. Need to hear that from her myself. She has to be terrified.”

“She ain’t hurt or hungry. She’s eating Cheetos and watching Netflix, and now that she knows someone’s coming for her, she said she can hold it together.”

I threaded my shaking hands together as I sat on the bed, bowing my head. Trinity was tough, but she shouldn’t have to be. She should never know anything like this could happen. She should be sitting at home eating Cheetos and watching Netflix.

Gathering together the threads of my self-possession, I looked up at Rix. “Swear to me, on whatever you find holy, that she’s okay.” My voice was low, my words barely audible.

“I swear to you, she’s fine.” Rix’s tone matched mine in seriousness.

“Thank God,” I whispered.

Rix spun and stalked toward me. “It ain’t God you should be thanking, duchess. I’m the one making this happen. And I don’t use this much effort for anyone without a damn good reason.”

Anger overwhelmed the fear that had gripped me. “She got into this because of one of your people!”

He stopped in front of me. “She made her own choice to get involved with him.”

“That’s bull. Besides, you have to get her back to cover your own ass.”

“I don’t have to do shit.” Rix’s chin lifted with the proclamation.

“So you’re saying that I’m the only reason you’re bothering to get her back?” I demanded.

He crouched down, a hand on the quilt on either side of my hips. “Glad you’re finally catching on.”

I didn’t like that explanation. I wanted Rix invested on every level. Glancing up at him, I met his gaze. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything except you’re not gonna let that cop put his lips on you again.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Palm shooting out, I slapped against his shoulder, and surprisingly, he stood and stepped back.

Rix crossed his arms. “You want your girl back? You do what I want.”

My glare should have shriveled vital parts of his anatomy. “So it’s going to be like that, then? You already gave me your word that you’d get her home safe. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

His eyebrows drew together. “You don’t question a man’s word, duchess. That’s dangerous territory.”

“But you said—”

“You goin’ out with the cop again, or not?”

I thought of Hennessy’s promise to stop by the gallery and set up a date. Honesty won out. “Probably.”

The muscle in Rix’s jaw tightened and he dropped his arms, taking one step forward and leaning down. “Don’t.” The word came out on a growl, and yet I still felt no fear.

“I—” Whatever I was going to say died when Rix’s head dipped toward me.

“I’m taking my shot, not asking for it,” he murmured before his lips took mine. There was no warm-up, no coaxing. Just . . . conquering.

I went with it, opening my mouth to his tongue and letting him in. My hands had their own agenda, gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer, wanting more. How long had it been since I’d felt that
wanting
? That absolute need to feel someone’s skin on mine?

Rix’s fingers buried in my hair, tilting my head one way and then the other, changing angles, going deeper. I wanted more, needed more.

But he pulled back.

“Gotta stop or I won’t. Got shit to do. I need to go.” He pushed away from the wall and headed for the door.

“You have shit to do? You have to
go
? That’s how you’re going to leave it?” I asked, my tone incredulous.

The man had just kissed me like I’d never been kissed before, and he pulled away like I was a leper. Did I forget how to kiss? I knew it had been a while, but was I that bad?
Hell.

“You get that you’re mine?” he asked.

“I don’t—”

“Yes or no, Valentina. It’s not a hard question.”

“I don’t know,” I yelled, pushing up off the bed and striding toward him. “You confuse the hell out of me, and even though you should scare me, you don’t. And you make me think about wanting things I shouldn’t—” I cut my rant off short as soon as I realized my filter had slipped, and I was so freaking confused, brutal honesty win out.

Rix inhaled sharply, alerting me to the fact that my hand was pressed against his chest and I’d backed him into a corner. Before I could move it, his wide palm covered mine and held it in place. My gaze clashed with his, and neither of us moved.

“You’ve got good instincts, duchess. I should scare the hell out of you, and you absolutely shouldn’t want a goddamned thing to do with me. And you should definitely never trust me.”

I choked out a surprised laugh. “That’s your pitch? After telling me you want me, you tell me I should be scared and shouldn’t want you or trust you?”

“Tell me to go right now.”

My brain struggled to keep up with him. “You want me to tell you to go?”

“No, but you should. Because if you don’t, I’m gonna be inside you tonight, and you’re not ready for that.”

Was he right? My body was dying for his touch, but he was absolutely not the guy I should be wanting. And as much as the devil on my shoulder urged me to take a risk and tell him to stay, I couldn’t do it.

Why were the words so hard to say?

“Then go.”

He nodded and turned away without another word. My staircase creaked as he hit certain steps. I listened for more sounds of his departure but heard nothing. The alarm didn’t go off, but the house was silent.

What the hell was I going to do about him?

Just like the last night he’d left me at my house, the urge to paint flooded me. I should have been falling flat on my face in bed because I hadn’t slept in a day, but instead I was hypercharged by the desire that Rix had ignited within me.

I stripped off the robe in favor of leggings and a T-shirt, and checked every room in the house to see if he was really gone. He was. I told myself I wasn’t disappointed as I headed to my studio.

As soon as I flipped on the light, my stomach fell to the drop cloths covering the floor.

My easel was empty.

He didn’t.

But who else?

The piece I’d done that I hadn’t been willing to admit was Rix, except maybe in the deepest part of my mind, was gone.

But how?

And why?

My stomach churned as I looked around my studio at the remaining canvases. Part of my secret was I usually painted nudes. My fascination was with the human figure. The beauty of it, the differences, the imperfections. And the figure I usually painted because it was the one I saw naked most often? My own.

Did he take anything else?

Frantically, I sorted through them, mentally ticking off all the finished pieces as I saw them. It seemed that nothing else was missing, but that didn’t calm my racing heart.

Rix took it. He frigging took it. My painting of him.

I wanted to whack my head against the wall for being so careless as to just leave it out. But this was my space, my home, and no one came in my studio but me. Ever. My cleaning lady knew to steer clear, and even then, I locked the door just to be safe. Martha didn’t need to see my nudes spread out all over a room.
No one did
. Which was why I never showed anyone. Never told anyone. Never would.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow Rix and I would have words, and I would get it back and demand he stop screwing around and get Trinity back right the hell now.

I
WOULDN’T LET THIS CASE
go. There was too much at stake, including my reputation—what was left of it—and maybe my career.

Tossing the file down on my desk in frustration, I shoved my hand through my hair. It was strange not to have it buzzed short, but everyone needed a change now and then. Or so my last girlfriend had told me. That hadn’t lasted long. She’d had a lot of things to say, and almost all of them involved changing me.

I was the last guy to claim to be perfect, and she was definitely searching for her version of happily-ever-after with the perfect guy who never wanted to watch the Saints, drink a beer, or fuck her in any position but missionary. Like I said, she hadn’t lasted long.

“Hennessy, you make any headway with that interview?”

I’d finally tracked down one witness to a shooting after a drug deal gone bad, and he’d refused to give me anything useful.

“Not a single fucking thing,” I replied, looking up at Mac Fortier. He was another detective on the drug case that I wasn’t supposed to be working, but when budgets got cut, the department put me on it anyway.

In the end, it wouldn’t matter. I wanted to close it more than anyone. My brother had been killed during one particular raid on this case that had turned into a clusterfuck, and during the internal investigation, evidence had surfaced that he was dirty.

I knew one thing to the core of my soul: my brother wasn’t a dirty cop.

My father had retired within weeks of my brother’s death, and I’d been bounced around the department because they weren’t sure what to do with me anymore. I’d been the youngest detective on the force once upon a time, headed for the top of the food chain, and now they just wanted me out.

But no matter how badly they wanted to rid the department of Hennessys, I’d refused to leave. And they were insane if they thought I’d rest before I’d restored my brother’s reputation.

“Well, that fucking sucks. Was the guy scared to talk?” Fortier asked.

“Yeah. Didn’t even want to be seen coming or going from the station.”

“So there goes that lead.”

I grunted, because it didn’t merit a response.

“We’ll get ’em. I’ll shake down my CIs and see if I can get any more names of anyone who might have been in the vicinity. There’s gotta be someone we can get to talk. Enough people are on parole in that area that we just need to find the right one who has something to lose if they don’t cooperate.” He flashed me a smile. “It’s their civic fucking duty.”

Fortier was a bulldog when it came to chasing leads. He had a year or two on me in seniority, but he didn’t delegate much. He seemed to actually enjoy still getting down in the trenches. Plenty of others didn’t.

“You wanna grab some lunch, man?” Fortier asked. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah, sure. You got a place in mind?”

“That little café down the street has a good po’boy, if it isn’t packed with tourists.”

That little café he was talking about was kitty-corner from Noble Art, which would give me an excuse to duck in and set up the date I’d promised Valentina I’d be taking her on. And I would
be taking her on that date.

Once I’d realized what her issue was, I’d handled it. The fact that she thought I saw her only as a victim was ridiculous. Yes, I’d always remember that night. How could I forget it? But that didn’t change the fact that she was a strong, beautiful woman.

We hustled through lunch, me eager to get on with asking Valentina out, and Fortier eager to start calling his CIs to meet and hopefully shake out some more leads.

When Fortier exited in the direction of the station, I said, “I’ll catch up with you later. I’ve got a stop to make.”

His eyebrow went up and he turned. “You realize I’m a detective too, right?”

“What’s your point?”

“You’ve been staring at that place over there like a crack whore on the lookout for her pimp. Try to be more subtle when you finally get over there. Women don’t go for nice guys. You’re a cop. That’s fuckin’ dangerous. Don’t act like a pussy and water that shit down. Own it. Use it. Get the girl.”

Sage advice given, Fortier slapped my shoulder and strolled off.

Too bad my being a cop was the biggest hurdle I had to overcome with this particular woman.

H
OW MY LIFE WENT FROM
not knowing Valentina Noble existed to having her on my mind constantly, I didn’t fucking know. It would probably help if I wasn’t keeping tabs on her to make sure she was staying out of trouble. Regardless, I could see her sitting at her desk—a simple glass top with four black legs that hid nothing, including how her skirt rode up her legs when she crossed and uncrossed them.