Midnight Lies: The Wildefire Series (2 page)

“It’s me, Quinn. I need to see you.”

An explosive sigh came through the phone, making her glad she’d woken him up. The
asshole!

“What is it this time, Charlene?”

Her eyes roamed around the massive bedroom, searching for some new hook to get him
to the house. The necklace draped casually on her dresser caught her attention. She
hated the thing. Her taste in jewelry ran toward bold and spectacular. The pearl-and-diamond
necklace was a Braddock family heirloom, much too understated and old-fashioned for
her. Quinn had given it to her a couple of weeks before they married. She’d never
worn it, but when he’d asked for it in their divorce settlement, she had gleefully
declined. Just one more twist of the knife. He’d been more pissed about her refusal
to return the necklace than he had been about finding her screwing Nate. Yes, he would
jump at the chance to get it back.

“I’ve decided to return the Braddock necklace to you.”

“Why? What’s the catch?”

Dammit, he didn’t even try to hide his suspicion.

“No catch. I hate the thing. But if you don’t want it, I’ll just—”

“Fine. I’ll come by this evening and—”

“No, I’m busy this evening. You need to come right away or I’m selling it to a jewelry
store.”

The long pause that followed made her wonder if she’d
played her hand too forcibly. She had tried to entice him over to the house before
and had been successful only a few times. But this was something he really wanted.

“I’ll be there within the hour. Meet me at the door with it. I won’t come in.”

She smiled her satisfaction.
We’ll just see about that
.

“Of course, darling. Whatever you say.” She ended the call and raced to her closet.
She had just the outfit for seducing a reluctant ex-husband back into her bed.

The cellphone in her hand rang. Charlene cursed, sure that Quinn was calling to cancel.
She glanced down at the display. Recognizing the number, she sighed, part in relief,
part in frustration. Phone to her ear, she opened her closet door as she said, “Darling,
how are you?”

“Horny.”

Her lovers were usually all about pleasing her. From the beginning, this man had been
different. He never sugarcoated what he wanted. Sweet talk and flowers were not his
way. And though occasionally he was too crass even for her, the things he did to her
in bed made up for his inadequacies. Unfortunately this wasn’t a good time for him
to be horny and demanding.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I have an appointment in a few minutes. Can you come by tonight?”

“An appointment? With whom?”

Though she resented his nosiness, she hesitated in not telling him. His temper had
a volatile edge. A couple of times she’d pissed him off and he’d gone way beyond the
pain-filled pleasurable lovemaking she enjoyed and into something intensely scary.
The last time that had happened, she’d had to hide the bruises for days.

“My ex-husband is dropping by to discuss our divorce settlement.”

“I thought your divorce was settled a long time ago.”

“It was, but I kept a piece of jewelry he wanted. I’m
redecorating my bedroom and came across it while I was putting things away for the
workers to come in.”

She winced. Dammit, now she’d probably have to do some kind of decorating just to
keep him from asking about it later. If he ever learned she had invited Quinn over
to get him into bed … She shivered at the thought.

“I’ll be there tonight at six. Be ready for me.”

A different kind of shiver swept through her. After their first time together, he
had set ground rules and expectations. One of those was preparing herself for him.
He had given her a list of do’s and don’ts, including where to shave, what perfume
and makeup to wear, what music to have playing when he walked in the door, and what
food he required after their playtime had ended. And always, he wanted her naked.

“I’ll be ready,” she answered with her most sultry tone.

The line went dead and Charlene dropped the phone on the chair beside her. She only
had a few minutes to get ready for Quinn. She pulled the lace-and-silk black negligee
from its hanger and stripped out of her robe. Anticipation and nervousness made her
normally graceful movements stilted. It had been years since she and Quinn had slept
together. Would he notice that her breasts were larger and perkier? The plastic surgeon
had done a marvelous job with them; Quinn had always been a breast man.

After slipping the skimpy gown over her head, she stood in front of the full-length
mirror to assess her allure. Damn, she looked good. Though she had just passed her
thirty-fifth birthday, she didn’t look a day over twenty-five. Her tits and ass were
sublime. There was no way in hell Quinn could resist her. So what if she’d slept around?
It was past time for him to get over that.

The doorbell rang. She glanced sharply at her clock.
He was way too early. She hurriedly put on the necklace he was coming for and then
took one last glance in the mirror. His timing didn’t really matter. Even with the
too-demure necklace, she looked fabulous.

Running lightly down the stairs, Charlene almost laughed with sheer happiness. Things
would work out, she was sure of it. Quinn would be enamored of her again, take her
to bed and do all sorts of delicious things to her. And tonight her lover could take
care of any remaining sexual needs she might have. What had begun as a lousy day might
well be her best ever. Her nipples tightened in anticipation of the coming events.

She opened the door. “Darling, it’s so good—” Stopping abruptly, she stared. “What
are you doing here? I told you I had an appointment.”

Eyes gleaming wickedly, he moved forward, giving her no choice but to retreat to the
middle of the foyer.

He closed the door behind him and sneered, “Is this the kind of outfit you wear to
greet your ex-husband?”

Charlene held back a huff of exasperation. The last thing she needed was for him to
be here when Quinn arrived. She should have lied when he had asked about her appointment.

“I was just about to change into something more appropriate.”

“But he is coming over. Right?”

“Quinn? Yes, he’ll be here in just a few minutes.”

“Then there’s not much time, is there?”

“Time for what?”

He came closer. “For this.”

Charlene looked down at something gleaming in his hand. “What is …?” She frowned,
confused. “Is that my knife? Where did you …? I’ve been looking all over the place
for—”

The knife thrust toward her. So startled by the attack,
she barely felt the pain in her shoulder. Frozen, she stared up at him in horror.
Then, as realization hit, she screamed.

In a gleaming arc, it came down again.

“No, stop, please … Stop!”

She stumbled backward and turned to run. Too late. Agony exploded in her shoulder
and back. This time the pain was intense … urgent. Twisting around, Charlene screamed
as she raised her hands to fight back, slapping ineffectually as the knife descended
again and again. Slashing, ripping, destroying.

Blood was everywhere. He was ruining her beautiful gown. The pain was excruciating … unbearable.
Why, why, why?

The floor appeared before her, slamming into her face. She lay, panting, too tired
to cry, too stunned to speak.

A voice from above whispered silkily: “How about it,
darling
? Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

“Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up.”

Samantha Wilde woke with a smile on her face. That sexy baritone growl did it to her
every time. Rolling over onto her back, she blinked sleepily up at the harshly beautiful
face of Quinn Braddock—surely the most perfect man on earth. Before she could kiss
that perfection and entice him back to bed, her foggy brain registered that he was
dressed.

“I thought you weren’t going to the hospital until later today.”

“That’s still the plan. Charlene called and asked me to drop by for a few minutes.”

She had never met Quinn’s ex-wife, but had heard enough stories about the woman to
make her glad she hadn’t. Not that Quinn would talk about her. Everything she’d heard
had come secondhand. The only thing Quinn had ever said was that he never should have
married her. The look on his face when her name came up was enough to keep Samantha
from asking more. Quinn was a warm and compassionate man, but a cold, hard look entered
his eyes at the mention of his ex-wife.

Hiding her yawn behind her hand, Samantha gave a full-body stretch, wincing at her
slightly stiff muscles. She had tackled a suspect yesterday when he’d tried to run.
Though the perp had gotten the worst of it when
he had tried to fight her, she still had some aches she needed to work out.

“Still sore?”

Nothing got by this man. She’d once told him that if he ever wanted to leave medicine,
he’d make a great cop. “Just a little. A hot shower will help.”

“I’ll give you a massage tonight.”

A shiver of anticipation swept through her. “All over?”

He lowered his mouth over hers and spoke against her lips. “Every soft, silky inch
of you will know my touch.”

Groaning her anticipation, Samantha wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and
pulled him closer. His mouth moved over hers for several long, satisfying seconds.
She uttered a small sound of disappointment when he pulled away from her and stood.

“Gotta go.”

Samantha propped herself up on her elbows. “Something wrong at Charlene’s house?”

“No.”

She wasn’t put off by his abrupt answer. She just hated that his day was starting
off on such a sour note. Considering the things she’d heard about Charlene, Quinn’s
relationship with his ex-wife was understandably strained. They’d been divorced for
three years now, but Charlene had a tendency to call her former husband often. Samantha
had no worries that Quinn would be tempted to go back to her. He might not have much
to say about her, but if one read between the lines, his opinion of Charlene was just
below that of his regard for slugs.

Hoping to erase the grimness from his face, she said, “I’ll be working until at least
nine tonight. Want to meet for a late dinner somewhere?”

As a new homicide detective, Samantha often had unpredictable hours. Fortunately Quinn’s
hospital schedule
was just as grueling and time-consuming, so he understood about her crazy hours and
limited time.

He leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “You’ll be too tired to
go out. Come over to my place and I’ll make dinner.”

Another reason she had fallen in love with Quinn Braddock. He loved to spoil and take
care of her. Smiling her gratitude, she reached up and caressed his clean-shaven jaw.
“I’ll bring the wine.”

He lowered his head again, moving his lips softly, confidently over hers. Samantha
pressed upward, wanting a deeper taste. When he pulled away, her lips pouted her disappointment.

“Be careful. You’re half a second away from having this sheet stripped away and me
inside you.”

A familiar delicious throb began. “Have time for a quickie?”

“You know we never can settle for a quickie.” He glanced at her bedside clock. “Besides,
even a quickie wouldn’t work. Aren’t you testifying again today?”

He was right on both counts. After their first night together, they had learned that
their quickies could last for hours. She wasn’t the most knowledgeable when it came
to sex, but Quinn’s expertise made up for her lack of experience. She couldn’t imagine
a man pleasing her more, inside or outside the bedroom.

Sighing her regret, she made a promise. “Let’s plan for an extended quickie tonight.”

“You’re on.”

Samantha watched in admiration as he went across her bedroom to pick up the car keys
he’d left on the dresser. She loved the way he walked. For such a tall, broad-shouldered,
muscular man, he moved with amazing agility and grace. She could only imagine that
all of his patients, at least the female ones, fell instantly in love with him.

When he turned back, her expression must have revealed her thoughts, because he grinned
and said, “Stop looking at my ass and get dressed. Telling the judge what delayed
you probably won’t win you any points.”

So true. This was her second day of testimony, and if there was anything clear about
the trial, it was that the judge disliked cops—and female ones in particular.

Before she could respond, he headed to the door, that austere, grim expression back
in place. “See you tonight.”

She grimaced in sympathy. When compared to meeting with a despised ex-spouse, facing
an unfriendly judge didn’t sound so bad. “I hope it’s not too unpleasant.”

“I just hope I can get out of there without strangling her,” he muttered, and was
out of the apartment almost before Samantha could register his astonishing statement.
For Quinn to reveal his hatred was rare. Charlene must have really pissed him off
this time.

Samantha dropped her head onto her pillow again. Her granddad would have approved
of Quinn’s restraint in not discussing other people. Though her hometown of Midnight,
Alabama, had been rife with gossipers and busybodies, Daniel Wilde had looked upon
gossiping as an evil deed. The fact that the Wilde family had often been the subject
of those gossipers hadn’t helped. And their hometown newspaper,
Midnight Tales
, had been the worst. Every salacious remark that had been whispered about the Wildes,
they had printed as thinly veiled innuendos—skirting as close to libelous as possible
without going over the edge.

But her grandfather would have approved of Quinn for other reasons, too. She had often
worried that she would never find the right man. She had dated often but had never
felt a real connection with anyone. Her sisters, Savannah and Sabrina, had called
her a hopeless romantic, insisting that there was no perfect man out
there. She had been almost to the point of believing that. Then she’d met Quinn.