Sympathy For The Devil (17 page)

As she slumped with exhaustion, barely able to keep her grip on the bars, he held her hips and kept her upright. His mouth released hers and her head tipped forward, brow hitting the cool wrought-iron while she panted. Archer groaned next to her ear, slamming into her one final time before shaking with his release.

She’d done it. She’d actually fucked a maybe-killer.

God, what the hell was wrong with her?

Chapter Sixteen

Tash sank down as he pulled out of her, nothing left in her to keep upright.

Shame filled her as the shock of what had happened wore off, and her stomach bottomed out. What the hell was she
thinking
? How the hell did she get so damn hot and bothered that she let
that
happen?

He’d given her a way out. Multiple times. But she wasn’t passive, didn’t merely let him do whatever he wanted—she’d
told him
.
Begged him
. She had wanted him so badly she couldn’t think straight.

And there was no taking it back.

She braced for him to walk away, to make some snarky comment, to embarrass her further. She managed to pull her bra and camisole up, shift them so they were sitting right, but was quite aware of her torn underwear and skirt hiked up lewdly. God, she just wanted to curl up and die, and she started doing just that, her spine curving and head bowing.

“You want to stay for a drink, or are you ready to go?”

Tash looked up at him, still standing there. He’d straightened up, zipped up, looked no different but for the post-orgasm flush to his face.

She had no idea what to say. What to
think
. And when he extended his hand to her, she simply stared.

When a heavy sigh, Archer dropped to a crouch next to her, studying her. “You keep following me, you come around my house again, and I won’t be so gentle next time.”

“I wasn’t following you in the grocery store.”

“You followed me here tonight.”

She chewed at her bottom lip but didn’t deny it.

“And you got in the front door—I’m guessing you knew what to expect. And given how hard you’re blushing, no, you’re not a regular. So you followed me another night. Wednesday? Last Friday?”

“Wednesday,” she admitted.

“Is this going to end up in the paper?”

“No. Maybe a friend’s blog but that’ll be anonymous.”

Archer rolled his eyes, shook his head. “Do you want a drink or do you want to leave?”

She’d paid enough goddamn money to be here—a drink would be lovely but she wasn’t eager to remain. “Both.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He didn’t leave, though, instead remaining crouched there with her. “You know, I don’t even know your last name.”

He didn’t—she hadn’t given it to him. And no matter how goddamn stupid she felt in that moment,
he
was the one who just screwed a chick whose last name he didn’t know. “Whitaker,” she said.

“Natasha Whitaker.” Again he offered his hand. “Devin Archer.”

Adam was going to kill her. The cops were probably going to throw her in jail and Keisha would disown her entirely.

But Natasha took his hand, let him help her to her shaky feet, and accepted her purse when he handed it to her. His hand clasped hers and he led her back along the mezzanine for the stairs.

****

Devin half-expected Natasha to be gone by the time he’d obtained a bottle of booze after flashing some cash at the bartender. He held the neck of the small bottle of whiskey tight, rounded the bar and picked his way through the various remaining patrons again. About a third of them had gone off to the rooms, a few remained at their tables engaged in sex, while still others chatted and laughed like it was any other party. In another couple of hours, the club owners would roll out the buffet, but while he thought some food would do Natasha good—settle her nerves, help her regain her strength—he didn’t think she’d last that long here. She was perfect, every part of her—he had no complaints at all. But she didn’t belong here either.

Not yet.

Regrets, though, were another story entirely. He shouldn’t have gone near her, that much he knew, but for those glorious minutes upstairs, he was...free. His mind had, however briefly, relaxed blissfully as his body found solace in hers. It had been so long,
too
long, and why this woman, of all others...he still couldn’t answer. Why she lit a fire in him he couldn’t douse, making him feel things he thought dead.

Still, guilt stabbed him, worry that he’d pushed her too far. But he’d taken a chance and, for the moment at least, it seemed like it might’ve paid off.

She hadn’t left. She was huddled by herself on a sofa between two sectioned off rooms, her bare feet on the edge of the seat and her arms wrapped around her folded legs. Her strappy heels sat next to her with her purse.

He tensed as he approached, ready for her to look up at him with accusations or revulsion. But when her dark eyes met his, he just saw sharp awareness in their depths, mind back solidly in her head after recovering from her body taking over.

She let her feet fall to the floor, grasped her shoes and her purse. He’d led her to the washrooms before so she could clean up and she was brighter now, herself. Natasha rose and met him as he neared her.

“We’re smuggling this out,” he said, indicating the whiskey.

Understanding, she opened her purse and let him tuck the bottle inside, then slung the bag over her shoulder.

His hand settled on the small of her back as they started for the exit, navigating her around to the stairs. Few people arrived this late and the women who had previously greeted people with drinks at the door were gone. They walked up the long dark flight of stairs and stepped outside into the humid air. It still hadn’t rained but at last Devin sensed it in the air—this weekend they’d be in for a hell of a storm.

The bouncer paid them no mind as they headed for the parking lot. Devin glanced over the cars, couldn’t see hers, but she gestured in the direction opposite his truck.

Smart girl.

They walked in silence and it grew tense, awkward. And he wasn’t sure how to fix it. It had been awhile since...well, since a lot of things. And though part of him knew he’d made a monumental mistake here tonight, still another part of him wanted to be careful, not scare her off.

If she was scared, she didn’t show it. Her steps were slow, feet still bare and they trekked across a parking lot that was unpaved. But she didn’t shy, seemed to lean into him instead.

“I don’t do this kind of thing,” she said suddenly.

“I don’t either.” The look she gave him practically screamed bullshit, so he amended. “Anymore.”

She didn’t press and he didn’t offer more.

Her pace slowed further as they went deeper into the parking lot until she froze completely.

Devin gazed down at her. “What?”

She nodded, eyes fixed ahead.

He didn’t see her car, but realized they’d stopped in front of
a
car—one with HELL WAITS FOR WHORES carved into the hood, lettering jagged and ugly in the shadows of the lot.

She was frozen completely and his hand moved from her back, over her shoulders to draw her to him.

“That’s your car?” he asked, as if he didn’t know by that horrified look on her face.

“M-my friend’s. I borrowed. Since you knew my other one.”

His mouth twisted, but he bit back any comment he’d been about to make. Of course she’d get a different car, he’d have remembered hers.

“Someone saw me,” she said softly. “In there.”

With you
. She didn’t need to say it but the implication was there.

Devin released her, rounded the car, frowning. The tires were all flat as well—all four of them. Someone had been watching, all right. Someone who didn’t want her to leave, either.

“I’ll drive you home,” he said.

She shook her head, springy curls bouncing, as her expression sank. “I’m going to have to call a tow-truck. To come
here
. And see
that
. And tell M—my friend. I just...”

“It doesn’t have to be a local tow-truck company. I’ll call in the morning. And make sure it’s discreet.”

Again she shook her head, her face shifting from shock to anger. “It’s not your—”

“I think we both know it
is
. I’ll drive you home tonight but I would think long and hard in the future, if I were you, before following or being seen with me. You’ve seen my house.”

“The police are looking into it,” she said.

He snorted, grasped her forearm, and urged her toward his truck, leaving her defaced car behind them. “Sure they are.”

“I spoke to them today,” she said as she caught up, letting him lead her back through the parking lot. “Not Perry. People I know. I’ll let you know what they find out.”

So now they were working together? On the same team? Anger buzzed through him at the thought. It was stupid to let her be dragged through the mud with him,
tainted
by him. They reached his truck and he got her in the passenger seat before heading around to the driver’s side.

She already had the whiskey out. Hadn’t bothered with her seatbelt, just took a long pull from the bottle and then cradled it in both of her hands, staring ahead.

Devin climbed in and closed his door but forewent the ignition, instead turning in the seat to watch her. She didn’t look at him, but she extended the bottle nonetheless.

“I’m driving,” he said, though he accepted it and took a swig.

“Why’d you come back, knowing what it would be like?”

He returned the bottle to her waiting hand and leaned back in his seat, staring at the truck’s felt ceiling. “It’s expensive to have a house just sitting there, even with the mortgage paid off. Property tax, for one thing.”

“And you can’t rent it?”

He gave her a look.

“Yeah, that was a stupid question.”

“Sold my condo in the city to come back out here just to get the house ready for sale. Still thinking I should’ve burnt it to the ground and just sold the land to whoever.”

“That might’ve been an easier sale. Why’d you restore it?” Her voice had returned to normal, not so shaky. Calmer.

But his nerves were all twisted and he gripped the steering wheel with one hand, flexing his fingers as he stared at the full parking lot ahead without really seeing it. He should just start the truck, drive away, get her home and safely aware from him.

He needed a cigarette. Or more whiskey, except he still needed to drive. His lips were in a grim line and he wished he could think of some simple lie, some way to make the conversation just...go away.

“Because it was my wife’s,” he said simply, and at last reached for the keys in the ignition.

“Devin?” Natasha said.

He sighed. “What?” As he turned toward her, she met him halfway. She sank toward him, her small hand snagging on the front of his T-shirt. Though she leaned in to kiss him, she paused a breath away, her eyes darting back and forth between his. He felt her breath on his lips, teasing, beckoning.

He kissed her, sudden and hard, sinking both hands into her hair and pulling her close. She whimpered against his mouth, the neck of his T-shirt pulling as she tugged on him. His previously sated body warmed again. He wouldn’t take her now, not here in the truck like a pair of idiot teenagers, but he’d have her again.

Soon.

Interlude II

He loved hearing her screams.

Sobs.

Pleas.

But when the moment of understanding came, and she realized she wouldn’t get away, that death was eminent, a wonderful thrill ran through him.
That
was his favorite part. He savored her whimper of defeat, her mumbled prayer to a God she’d probably never believed in. She’d given up fighting, just lay there in the flicker of orange-yellow light overhead.

Her blood painted the blade of his knife, sprayed over her belly, snaked onto the floor. He hovered over her, watched, as she blinked slowly and the light in her eyes died. She went slack and glassy, chest ceased rising with breath.

He stepped back, set down the knife on the bloody table to his right, then dragged over thick, crackling plastic sheets to wrap her in. This time she was mostly clothed but he left her that way. Let them find her like that, let them put together a timeline, realize how long she’d been missing.

His gloved hands worked swiftly, expertly, as he rolled her in the plastic and tore off a piece of duct tape to keep everything together. If he was being honest, he was regretful ending this as swiftly as he did. He’d dragged the experience out as long as he could, but it never seemed long enough to satisfy him.

There would be another, however. Already she haunted his mind. There were a lot of bitches who deserved it, but this one...this one was
asking
for it. His dick hardened at all the delicious things he wanted to do to her and he grit his teeth, avoiding stroking it. He’d wait. Push himself to the brink. And then take all the pleasure he could from her unwilling body to satisfy his.

But first...
He grasped this one’s feet and hauled her toward the exit, dragging her across the gritty cement floor.

The water outside beckoned.

Chapter Seventeen

8:00 a.m. was later in the morning than Natasha
preferred
for her run, but she hadn’t been out once in the past few days, and she couldn’t put it off a day longer.

Besides, she had a
lot
of energy to run off. Despite her exhaustion upon leaving the sex club with Devin, when she was home by herself, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d done, what
he’d
done to her. What he’d made her feel, how he so expertly brought her to orgasm.