Dangerous Loves Romantic Suspense Collection (59 page)

“Hey there,” she said at a near shout to be heard over the music.

His smile grew into a big toothy grin. What was Butch up to? She’d never seen him show his teeth unless he was snarling. He let his sultry gaze rake her body, lingering over her breasts, which she expected, and returned to her face to linger on her full lips.

“I’m glad to see you.” He didn’t shout those words, didn’t need to. His lips hovered close to her ear as he smoothly snuck his arm around her back and pulled her close for a kiss.

Vega felt none of the excitement or the promise of sensual moments his skillful lips often sparked deep in her chest. No questions lingered in her mind. The affair, or whatever it transformed into, was over.

“Let’s go find a quiet corner,” Butch whispered against her mouth when he pulled his lips away. She’d given him a full kiss, not pushing him away or fighting off his roving hands. She considered it a goodbye gift. They knew one another about as well as they knew themselves. Severing the bond between them wasn’t going to be painless, for her or Butch.

She picked up her frosty beer and followed him to a secluded, but well lit booth he’d obviously selected ahead of time. Without even glancing down at the sticky mess she might encounter, she inched onto the seat across from his—the vinyl was surprisingly clean—and set her beer on the table between them.

“Vega,” he said. His toothy grin grew even toothier and his blue eyes softened. He reached across the table, took her hand, and began tracing small circles on the back of her knuckles. “I understand you have reservations about marriage. Hell, I would too if I had a mother like yours. But baby, you’ve got to admit we’re good together—more than good.”

“Yes.” She wouldn’t lie to him. “We made a good match for a while, Butch. But…”

“No.” He pressed a gentle finger to her lips. “No, don’t run away from me now.”

Butch had brains in his head and instincts to match. Those were two requirements of a skilled bounty hunter. And he nearly always captured his quarry, making him unquestionably good at his job. Surely, he sensed the coming breakup? She couldn’t believe he’d take it with a smile—he never smiled that like. What was going on?

“Baby, we can start out with the partnership. Let me work with you on this assignment.” Butch teased the soft skin between her fingers, a simple but erotic caress.

She looked down and watched his blunt fingers touching her, not feeling a damned thing beyond the sensation of his rough skin against hers.

“We can talk about advancing our relationship after we bring in Walker together. Together, baby.”

Vega retrieved her hand from underneath his. “I’m sorry, Butch. This just isn’t going to work between us. I don’t feel all warm and hopeful about our relationship like you do.”

That familiar, safe crust returned to Butch’s exterior. His powerful gaze burned through her and, she figured, through the wall behind her too. “You can’t call this off. We had an agreement.”

“I never agreed to anything. All I said was I’d think about it.” She was talking far too much, digging her hole deeper. She swallowed a taste of the beer in front of her and tossed a few dollars onto the table. “Goodbye Butch.”

She slid out of the booth. Butch followed. He matched her wide stride with an angry stomp until they reached the edge of the colorfully lit dance floor.

He grabbed her shoulder then, pressing on the bullet wound with vicious intent, and pulled her back. Jabbing a knife into her shoulder would’ve produced less pain. A prickling numbness crawled down her arm and immobilized the muscles.

“You don’t walk away from me,” he said, holding his face far too close. She could taste the cheap bourbon on his breath.

“Take your hand off me.” She gave the warning out of consideration for what they once had together. In her book, his pursuing her even after she’d made her feelings clear broke the last emotional string that bound them. The earth could open up and swallow Butch whole for all Vega cared at that moment.

“You bitch…you don’t tell me to do nothing.” His free hand whipped up and slapped her cheek. Because he held her shoulder, she couldn’t ride the blow. The force of his hand snapped her head sharply to one side.

In that split second, Butch’s position fell from pathetic ex-lover to enemy. She grabbed the hand that struck her and gave the wrist a sharp twist while pulling his arm to the side at an awkward angle.

The hold she’d used was guaranteed to bring tears to the strongest of men. Butch wasn’t immune. He released her shoulder and whimpered. One more twist and she’d break his wrist.

And why shouldn’t she? He’d treated her roughly, never really felt any consideration for her feelings or desires.

A small crowd had gathered around. Voices rose as explanations were passed around. If she broke his wrist in front of all these witnesses, the police would be called. Trouble would bubble up from every imaginable crack. And worse, Fiona might one day break some hapless guy’s wrist, thinking losing herself to anger like this was acceptable.

“I should break your wrist,” she whispered but unlocked her grip.

Moaning and cradling his arm, Butch sank to the floor. He’d bruise, if nothing else. Perhaps he’d learn something too.

Vega seriously doubted that last part. She knew wishful thinking when she heard it. Unfortunately, a crowd was closing in on her. In no mood to explain herself to strangers, she dashed out the closest exit and found herself standing in a darkened alleyway next to a large, smelly dumpster.

She leaned against the door for a moment to blink back a few tears. This blow up with Butch affected her more than she thought it should. But then, losing a dependable friend who understood the hassles of the bounty hunting lifestyle should hurt. She lived a lonely life. Not even Jack really understood her. He, like her mother, believed she should quit and get herself married into a safe, quiet existence.

Like safe and quiet ever satisfied anyone.

A shadow moved in the darkness.

Fighting off a mugger would cap off her romantic evening just perfectly. She held her ground and watched the dark figure close the distance.

Dressed in a black long-sleeved tee with even darker jeans and looking as fearsome as a devil’s minion, Grayson emerged from the depths of the chilly night to block Vega’s path. He folded one arm over the other and tilted his head, silently staring at her.

“You!” Vega breathed. She didn’t reach her hand around to the small of her back, though her hand itched to. The Beretta waited locked up in the hotel safe, miles away. Nor did she make any sudden movements. She wouldn’t pounce until she could gage the enemy and assess her environment. Let him act first.

Chapter Sixteen

Vega and Grayson stood not two feet apart. He remained as still as she, watching as steadily as she watched him. An expression of curiosity pursed his lips.

“Vega,” he whispered her name as if he understood her every desire, her every hurt. His dusty- brown eyes smoldered in the lamplight.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said and sounded sickeningly sincere. Some men could do that, look a woman in the eye, and make her heart long to believe him. Grayson had refined the trick into an art form.

She swallowed hard. Memories of those late night erotic dreams sent shivers pulsing through her body while his pressing, deep gaze softened her mind. Oh God, she couldn’t breathe for a moment from the overwhelming need to feel his lips on hers.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered.

“Why shouldn’t I?” He inched closer to her lips, moving as achingly slow as she dreamt he would. He reached out his empty hand with deliberate care as if trying to lure a wounded animal closer.

Sensing no immediate danger, Vega remained perfectly still while her heart hammered in her chest. His hand tentatively touched the side of her face and then, when she didn’t pull away, caressed her swelling cheek. “I bet whoever slapped you is whimpering on some floor right now and feeling sorry for himself,” he said, a smile crept onto his lips. “I think that’s why I like you so much. You can take care of yourself.”

He recognized her strengths—found her competence sexy—hmmm…Vega found herself pressing her cheek against his hand. Her skin tingled underneath his gentle touch.

Why are you following me
? She wanted to ask.
What’s this game about
? No words formed in her dry mouth. For a strange moment, he became that shadowy man haunting her dreams—a man who could fill that empty spot burning in her chest. This dream world with Grayson became more real to her than any other time in her life. The tip of his finger lightly traced a trail down her nose and tugged seductively over her lips.

Vega’s own raging frustrations roared out of control. Her mouth parted with a tiny growl. Tossing her common sense into a heap at her feet, she pressed her lips to his.

For a glorious, wild moment, she tasted satisfaction. Grayson’s shocked lips softened and surrendered to her subtle attack. She was in complete control of this moment with him. The surge of power filled her. She hungered for more as her tongue swirled in his mouth, thrilling when Grayson moaned in response.

The feel of his hands roving her body nearly tore her restraint completely away. He shoved her up against the locked emergency exit behind her. The solid bulge in his pants pressed against her belly, pinning her to the spot.

“You are something else, Vega. I tried, but I couldn’t stay away.” He inched her sweater up. His warm hands teased the tips of her breasts.

A tingling sensation pulled against her common sense, heating her chest, her belly, and deep between her legs. Vega raked her hands through his short, dark hair and tugged on the blunt ends to hold his head tight.

Things felt so good, so right.

Life suddenly felt easy—too easy.

She peeled her lips from Grayson’s. She leaned her forehead against his and heaved a calming sigh. If there was just one thing Vega understood, it was that life was never, ever easy.

“No,” she said, and pushed on his chest while concentrating on regaining her balance. This man was not an innocent warrior going around rescuing damsels in distress. He was a ruthless killer who’d used Fiona to lure her to Atlanta and play a part in his dangerous scheme.

“What do you want from me?”

He stared at her, his eyes clouded with naked lust.

She swallowed. “I—I have to take you into custody now, Grayson. You understand that, don’t you?”

He leaned forward and nudged her lips with his own. She fell into his kiss, his hot breath seeping low into her belly. Perhaps she could lose herself with Grayson for just a little while longer. He caressed her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and pressed his full weight against the length of her body.

This last act of Grayson’s was purely aggressive. She pushed against him with both hands. He resisted. His one hand encircled her neck, the other pinned her arms.

Damn, damn, damn. She fell so neatly into his trap. She struggled against his immovable body to no avail.

He let her out of the kiss and looked down on her with those expressive brown eyes of his. “What do I want?” His lips brushed her lips. Fear kept her lust in check. “I wanted you to be wondering why I’d kill my best friend instead of wasting your time with those old cronies from Millville and dredging up dead memories.” His breath sounded as ragged as hers was just a moment ago.

“I’m not a detective, Grayson. You might be as innocent as a baby, in fact. I don’t care. It’s not my job to care why you killed anyone. My only responsibility is to see you returned to the justice system.”

He’d neatly pinned her, luring her close with those damned words of admiration. Shit.

She’d been stupid. Surely she wasn’t so starved for love—for real love, the kind that didn’t care about quirky behaviors or tried to mold her into something she wasn’t, the kind that lasted—surely she didn’t just throw away her life in the hopes of tasting that kind of love?

“I have to poke into every aspect of your life whether you want me to or not,” she whispered.

He tightened his hold around her neck. “That’s exactly what I had wanted you to do. That’s why I had sent for you, Vega.”

Stars began to dance in front of her eyes as his hands continued to squeeze. He was killing her, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.

“But I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to see you or your sister harmed.”

A threat
?

“Keep Fiona safe. Don’t go near Six-Star.”

Sure sounded like a threat
. This was exactly why she shied away from relationships where she might slip up and make herself vulnerable.

His iron grip closed off her airway. “Greg Harper kept a secret set of files in his office. There’s too much incriminating information in those files. It will get someone killed. I don’t want you near them. Do you understand me?”

Vega’s head bobbed as waves of fuzzy dizziness attacked. A shadowy Brer Rabbit hopped across her path, or was that just a large rat? Her lungs pounded against her chest and struggled for that next fresh breath that just wasn’t coming. She did manage to nod when he asked again if she could hear him. Not for long, but for the moment the pathway between her ears and her head still sparked.

“Good.”

Vega could no longer see Grayson. Her eyesight dimmed even further and then faded to nothingness. The sounds around her were pulling away. Grayson’s voice sounded like it had to travel through a long tunnel to reach her. The words he spoke made no sense. His fingers continued to tighten around her throat.

“We will meet again, sweet.” She felt the feather-light touch of his lips brushing hers—and then nothing at all.

* * * *

“Damn it, stop fussing over me.”

Fiona, armed with concealer, powder, and liquid base makeup, poked and wiped at Vega’s bruised cheek and neck. She’d been fussing all morning.

“You shouldn’t have gone unarmed,” Fiona scolded for the sixth time that morning. Vega was counting. “We both knew Grayson was keeping an eye on you. That letter you’d jammed into your pocket the night we picked up poor, confused Matt Lockler said as much.”