Ripped (17 page)

“We’ll walk around the room in a circle,” I said. “Nod at everyone.”

She glanced at me sidelong. “Why am I doing that?”

“So that everyone sees you. So that everyone notices you, and sees me with you. And then, if anyone should ever talk to the police, they’ll remember that you were hear the whole time, and they’ll be sure that I was with you as well.”

“I’m your alibi?” she said in a low voice.

“I don’t need an alibi,” I said. “You’re just extra insurance.”

“Well, at least I know why I’m here.”

I pressed against her. “You’re here to look stunning, to make every man in this room want you.”

Her neck flushed. “I’m not… No one’s thinking that about me.”

I brushed my fingertips over her back, almost carelessly. “You want to know what I’m thinking about?”

She swallowed.

I spoke low and urgently into her ear. “I’m thinking about peeling this dress down to put your perfect tits on display. I’m thinking about your pretty lipsticked mouth wrapped around my cock.”

She shut her her eyes, unsteady on her feet. When she spoke again, her voice sounded a little frayed, but she was still sassy. “You still think I’m going down on you, huh?”

“I know it.” I seized her by the back of the neck, turned her, and kissed her hard, claiming her mouth.

She clung to the lapels of my suit.

When I pulled back, she gave me a dazed look.

“Why don’t you see if you can get us some drinks?” I pointed to a table across the room. “Maybe some hors d’oeuvres. I’ll be right back.” I strode off before she could give me an answer.

I saw my mark off to the left, talking to several men. His name was Brett Doherty. He headed a billion-dollar corporation that had covered up the fact they were testing their drugs on humans and that they’d killed hundreds of people with unsafe medications. I’d been hired to take him out by a competitor, someone who wanted to cut the head off of the company for financial purposes. But I’d taken the job because the guy was dirty. He knew what was going on. He didn’t care. He had killed for money, and he’d killed a lot more people than I ever had or would.

I grinned at him. “Brett! How’s Sally?”

He furrowed his brow at me. “She’s fine. I, um, sorry, have we met?”

I laughed. “You don’t remember me? From Aspen?”

He shook his head slowly.

“Well, that’s not a problem,” I said. “Because I remember you, and I remember you drunk off your ass, spilling your guts about the way you turned a profit on Asgodyne, so—”

“Maybe we should talk privately.” He looked alarmed.

“Maybe so,” I said. I took him by the arm and led him out of the room.

“Who are you?” he said as we cleared the doorway. “How do you know about Asgodyne, and what are you planning on doing with that information?”

“I’ll explain everything,” I said. “But let’s get some fresh air.” I steered him to the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” he said.

“Just to my car,” I said. “I’ve got some files there you’ll want to take a look at.”

“Listen,” he said. “If you want money, we can talk. I’m happy to enter into negotiations with you. How much are you looking for?”

I stopped us right next to my car. I patted him on the back. “Oh, I don’t need your money, Brett. Thing is, I’ve been hired to kill you.” I slid a hypodermic needle out of my sleeve and eased off the cap with one finger.

He jerked his head up. “You’ve been what?”

“You killed people, Brett. That’s why you’ve got to die.” I slid the needle into his neck.

He crumpled.

I caught him.

I popped the trunk open in my car and slid him inside. I’d finish this job later. No reason to kill him in a parking lot.

Instead, I headed back in to the party to find Shell, and I ate a few crab puffs and some mini-quiches.

“Let’s dance,” I told her. I felt keyed up, alive, ready to take on the world.

She shrugged. “Okay.”

I took her plate from her, and led her out onto the dance floor. I put my hands on her waist. I let them roam dangerously lower, over the curves of her ass. I touched her anywhere I damned well pleased.

She was in the dress I bought for her. She was on my arm. And I knew it wasn’t true, but I was going to ignore the truth and tell myself lies.

I was going to lie to myself that she was mine.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Shell

We didn’t stay at the charity ball for much longer than forty-five minutes, which was fine with me, because the dress might have made me look hot, but it was incredibly uncomfortable and awkward. Couple that with the fact that Cade couldn’t keep his hands off of me while we were dancing, and that was kind of working me up.

He looked amazing in a suit. He seemed sophisticated and yet primal, as if he’d encased all his raw power in designer clothes. The lines of his suit seemed to have been tailored just for him, cut to show off every aspect of his phenomenal body.

But all I could think about was how badly I wanted to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt and put my mouth on the tawny solidness of his chest and stomach.

Being with Cade was like being half-aroused all the time, and there was never any time to release all the pressure. I thought I might pop soon.

One thing that did confuse me was that I had thought that we were there so that Cade could do a job, but he hadn’t. Unless he’d gone off any killed someone in the span of ten minutes, which was the only time he left my side.

Then, as we were driving off, I heard a muffled bang from the trunk.

“What’s that?” I said.

He switched on the radio, turning it up loud. “Don’t mind that.”

Oh, God. He had a man in the trunk of the car. An alive man. Was he going to kill the man in front of me?

I didn’t know if I could…

We drove. The music blasted. Every now and again, I could hear something from the trunk.

Eventually, Cade got off the interstate, and took a series of complicated turns, until we were somewhere in the middle of nowhere, on a tiny two-lane road that didn’t even have white lines painted on the edges.

We pulled onto a one-lane bridge, and Cade stopped the car, but he left the key in the ignition, the music still pumping. “Don’t listen,” he said to me.

* * *

Cade

I took off my jacket and dress shirt, leaving me in a white undershirt. I pulled on a pair of plastic gloves.

Bobbing my head to the music, I opened the trunk.

Brett looked up at me. He yelled.

I laughed. I dragged Brett out of the trunk by his hair.

“Please,” he said. “I’ve got a wife. A daughter.”

“What about the 248 people who died in Asgodyne trials?” I said. “Did they have wives? Husbands? Daughters? Dogs?”

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I had to compete. Every company is doing it—”

“No,” I said. “Some companies are actually
not
breaking the law.” And then I shot him.

I yanked a concrete block out of my trunk and some rope. Whistling along with the music, I tied the body to the block, and then I lugged them both over to the edge of the bridge and chucked them over.

I wiped my gun down with bleach water. Over the side it went as well.

I took a plastic cup out of the back of the car, filled it with bleach water. I peeled off my gloves and dunked them inside. I kicked it off the bridge too.

Then I turned around.

Shell had gotten out of the car, and she was standing there, watching me.

* * *

Shell

“You do like it,” I said. I shook my head. I got back in the car. I turned down the music.

Whistling. He’d been
whistling
. And he wasn’t the least bit affected by what he’d done at all.

He got in the car next to me. “Shall I tell you what it was that man did? How many people he killed?”

“I heard,” I whispered.

He started the car and continued over the bridge.

We drove.

We were quiet the whole way back to his house, which took nearly an hour and a half. While we were driving, I tried to gather myself, to think of what I was going to do.

But mostly I just felt terrified, because I was disgusted by what he’d just done, but I still felt half-aroused, and when I looked at him in that white undershirt, I felt hot and tight and shivery.

When we got back to his house, I threw myself out of the car and ran inside. His front door wasn’t locked. I guess he wasn’t paranoid. Maybe because he lived out here, all by himself, maybe because he knew he could protect himself if he needed to. I wasn’t sure.

I ran up the steps, unsure of where I was going. He’d showed me the kitchen and living room downstairs, but that was all.

I emerged at the top, into a master bedroom that seemed to stretch over the entire top floor of the house. It was a huge room, the walls all made of glass. The bed was against one wall, the comforter black and sleek.

Everything here seemed sterile. Beautiful, sure. Expensive, yes. But too clean and too big.

He came up behind me.

I rounded on him. “You can’t just be the judge and jury,” I said. “Even if he is guilty, that’s not how things are done.”

He took a step towards me. “It’s how
I
do things.”

I held my ground, refusing to feel bullied into retreating. “Well, you shouldn’t. Especially not since you seem to find it so enjoyable.”

“That’s exactly why I have to do it.” He closed the distance between us. “If I don’t let it out somehow, Shell, it’ll come out in bad ways. Worse ways.”

I put a hand on his chest. I meant to hold him at arms’ length, keep him away, but somehow it turned into a caress.

His voice was gruff. “I know you find me detestable, but you can’t deny that there’s something between us. You can’t tell me you don’t feel it.”

My mouth worked. I didn’t
detest
him.

“Take your hair down,” he murmured in a gravelly voice.

I did it. I didn’t argue, I just reached up and pulled the pins out and let it fall. “You’re not distracting me from this.
You
told me that I should stay away from you.”

He tangled his hand into my hair, holding my head in place. “That was before Ice was after you. Before your life was in danger. I can’t let you go now.”

I gazed into his eyes.

“You want me, and right now, I can hardly
stand
because I want you so badly.”

I licked my lips. My body seemed to undulate in time to the pitch and fall of his voice. “You’re a killer.”

“Yes,” he said.

“You’re a bad man.”

“Yes,” he said, his nostrils flaring.

“I shouldn’t want you.” I shook my head.

He kissed me.

I kissed him back.

He unzipped my dress.

It fell open.

He pushed it down to my waist.

I wasn’t wearing a bra, and I felt the air hit my skin. My nipples stiffened.

He sucked in a breath, taking me in. His other hand was still in my hair. He was holding me close to him.

I couldn’t get away. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt languid warmth steal through my core. I was bared to him and keyed up and ready…

“Nice,” he whispered, one hand cupping my breast. “Nicer than I imagined.”

A surge of pleasure went through me. I shut my eyes.

His mouth on my nipple, hand loosening in my hair.

I threw back my head, letting out a little sigh.

He sucked.

A jolt of goodness shot down my body, lighting up my sex, where I was growing moist.

His mouth moved to my other breast. And then he went back and forth for what felt like several eternities. Each time he would take my sensitive flesh in his mouth, I thought that it was the most pleasure that I’d felt. And with each lick and suck and gentle nibble, my pleasure deepened. He worked me into a fever. I clutched him, gasping and moaning as he teased and tortured me.

He raised his head to look at me. “You like that, love?”

“Y-yes,” I managed.

“Are you wet?”

“
Yes
.”

“Very wet?”

“Dripping,” I gasped.

Abruptly, his hand tightened in my hair, yanking my hair against my neck.

It was painful. I yelped.

He loosened his grip for a second.

The release of the pain flooded me with pleasure, just like the spanking before. I moaned.

He kissed my neck. “Get on your knees,” he breathed.