Read Wanted by a Dangerous Man Online

Authors: Cleo Peitsche

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #New Adult & College, #Contemporary Fiction

Wanted by a Dangerous Man (3 page)

BOOK: Wanted by a Dangerous Man
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Henry handled his chopsticks expertly, like they were extensions of his graceful fingers. I would have given him another point, but then it occurred to me that he picked that restaurant because he wanted to show off. Showing off chopsticks skills? That would be negative ten points. Not that I was seriously considering him as boyfriend material. It was more of a self-evaluation. What did I want in a man? A relationship? Or maybe not a relationship so much as lots of fucking one hot, attentive lover. In that case, it was good to know about Henry’s nimble fingers.
 

By the time I finished my Mai Tai, I was starting to enjoy myself. It wasn’t the drink—which probably contained, at most, an eyedropper of alcohol. Henry was easy to talk to. He gave thoughtful answers to my questions, and he asked questions of his own, but he always backed away when I was reluctant to talk about something. Like my nonexistent dating life, for example.
 

“How often do you go after the big bounties?” I asked.

He helped himself to a bite of my fried rice. “I’ve had a few,” he said, “but generally, they’re too expensive. By the time you get done paying everyone off…” He shrugged. “And the government expects quite a bit of proof. If you bring them in, they stall. If you pass along a tip, they figure a way to screw you out of it.”

“What was your biggest bounty?”

“Enzo Funetti. I was part of Mundo Trackers then, but he was mine.”

“No way! I remember hearing about that on the radio after the sixth grade spelling bee.”

“Sixth grade? How can you be so sure?”

“It was the only year that I qualified for Regionals, and my brother asked if I could spell Funetti. I can’t believe
you
were the one who caught him. He tried to jump off a bridge, right? I always imagined you catching him at the moment he let go. Like in a movie.”

“Tackled him before he made it to the railing. I’m surprised you remember something like that.”

“I was completely obsessed until I hit puberty. Even my dolls carried handcuffs.” The words slipped out before I could consider them. In the silence that followed, Henry and I looked everywhere but at each other, neither voicing the sudden awareness of the discrepancy in our ages. I didn’t have a bias against older men thanks to an obsession with James Bond movies. And Henry was sophisticated and charming. He even projected a little of that amused, world-weary cynicism.

A beeping sound almost made me jump out of my chair. “It’s my watch,” he said, pulling up a sleeve to reveal a hulking plastic contraption. “I’m wearing it ironically,” he said, standing.

“Where are you going?”
 

“Gotta feed the meter. Order something for dessert, and we’ll share.”

I toyed with the laminated menu in the middle of the table and tried to have a serious talk with myself. Henry was nice, and despite what Frances seemed to think, not at all boring. I wasn’t attracted to him, though I’d heard that sometimes that comes later.

Under different conditions, would Henry have me blushing and squirming in my chair?

Henry returned, his ears and nose completely red, the rest of his face shockingly pale. “Windy out there. What’d you pick?”

“Red bean ice cream, but the waiter didn’t come by.”

“Great choice. You have good taste.” He instantly flagged down the waiter, who mumbled something as he rushed by.

I slowly tilted my head, considering. Henry was attractive. He seemed stable. Logical. Trustworthy. “You ever kill anyone?”

He leaned an elbow on the table and propped his head on it. “Yes.” Despite his casual demeanor, tension thickened his voice. “When I was a police officer.”
 

I blinked. “You were a cop? I didn’t know that.”

“Not surprising. It didn’t last long.”

“How’d it happen?”

“I was helping my brother study for the police exam, and somewhere along the way I realized that it might be a good career for me.”

“I meant the shooting.”

“Oh.” He smiled. “Sorry, I was distracted. First date with a pretty girl can do that to a man.”

Gulp.
Luckily, the waiter returned, and Henry ordered two scoops of green tea ice cream. I didn’t bother to tell him that I’d wanted red bean.

“I didn’t shoot anyone. It was a car chase. The suspect lost control, went through the windshield. He was only seventeen. A nerdy kid who carjacked a classmate on a dare, though we didn’t know that detail until later. When I got to him, the side of his head was bashed in like a partially deflated soccer ball.” Henry fell quiet.
 

The waiter placed a silver dish of ice cream between us.
 

“That’s hardly your fault,” I said.

Henry shook his head, blinking away the memories. “I sat with him until the ambulance arrived. He regained consciousness only once, and he was terrified. Every millisecond of that is engraved in my memory.” Henry handed me a spoon. “I shouldn’t have been chasing him. I was a rookie, headstrong and out to prove something. There was disciplinary action, more of a slap on the wrist, but I knew I was wrong. I had nightmares.”

“That’s heavy.”

“Yes, I suppose it is. I was only twenty-two at the time. Not equipped to deal with something like that. If I’d gotten therapy, I might have made it. Instead, I quit. I don’t like to talk about it,” he said. “Ask me something else.”

“How old are you?”

He smiled uncomfortably and looked at his hands, and I instantly felt bad.

“It doesn’t really matter,” I added quickly. “Was just curious.”

“Forty-six.” He looked up at me, loneliness and hope warring in his eyes.
 

“Oh. I thought you were thirty-eight or so.” Geez. He was only five years younger than my parents. That was not a pleasant connection for
so
many reasons.

“I do 150 pushups every day,” he said, flashing his dazzling smile.

Feeling guilty, I leaned over the table to squeeze his arm. “Wow.” I wasn’t exaggerating. He had serious muscles underneath that sweater, and even though I still wasn’t
attracted
to him, my body was warming. When I looked up into his brown eyes, I felt my cheeks heating and quickly glanced away.

“Had a six-pack until two years ago. The secret is low body fat. You can do all the crunches in the world, but if you’ve got fat on your gut, no one will ever see that muscle. Wanna arm wrestle?”

Laughing, I pretended to slam my arm on the table. Without any hesitation, Henry wrapped his fingers around mine, his hand surprisingly warm. How long had it been since I touched a man who wasn’t a deadbeat? Not since Corbin.

“Ready. Set. Go!” He slammed my arm back before I had a chance to try.

“Rematch, cheater.”

By the time we finished dessert, I was glad I’d come out. Henry probably wasn’t the love of my life, and he definitely wasn’t coming home with me for the night—I wasn’t quite ready to abolish Corbin in that way—but he wasn’t a bad guy. Plus it was nice to talk to someone who already knew the business.
 

We stood in the vestibule while I wound my scarf around my neck. “Thanks for dinner,” I said as he walked me to my car. “If someone was going to poach my bounty, I’m thrilled it was you.” I smiled warmly, opened the door, and slid inside.

“Likewise.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek before I could react, then he closed the door and stepped back.

Hm. Maybe he didn’t feel sparks, either. In which case… in which case, I had a new friend.

I liked that idea. Audrey. Not a popular woman, but at least she had a male friend who wasn’t a relative. They could put it on my tombstone and it would be true.

When I arrived home, I didn’t look at Corbin’s phone. I knew I would in the morning, but just once I wanted to fall asleep without feeling like a pathetic little girl pining for someone who had forgotten all about her.

Henry called me on Wednesday. “Looks like I’m free this weekend,” he said. “Remember that Russian movie I told you about?”

“Sure,” I found myself saying. We made plans to see it the next night, and when Henry offered to pick me up, I agreed. He wasn’t exactly a stranger, and given that I hadn’t heard from him since Saturday, I felt confident that we were on the same wavelength.
 

He rang the doorbell exactly on time. He wore a long, sophisticated wool coat. His hair was a little messy. Overall, he looked good.

“Come in,” I said, opening the door. “Gotta do something really fast. Three minutes.” My brother had misplaced some information and needed me to forward my copy.
 

Henry was still standing in the vestibule when I finished sending the email. I stooped to put on my boots.

“Look at that pile of Most Wanted papers. You’re obsessed.”
 

You have no idea.
“Always wanted that notch on my belt, though my dad jokes that I wouldn’t know what to do if I caught one. Like a dog chasing a car.”

“Why would he say that? You were more than capable with Jones.”

Why, indeed. I had theories ranging from overprotection to sexism to meanness. Though it wasn’t something we’d ever be able to talk about. My dad was too old school to believe in therapy, talking, or even hugs.

Henry picked a paper up and flicked it with his finger. “This guy, Lagos. I’d love to get my cuffs on that sumbitch. He tops the list over the summer, then disappears even though he hadn’t been apprehended. Now he’s back on the list since early November.” He shook his head. “You better believe I started to track him, but I got so much conflicting information that I gave up.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to stay casual, glad that tying my boots gave me a reason to keep my head lowered.

“Top levels of enforcement giving me the runaround. He’s probably mafia,
top
mafia, and they want to keep that off the official record. I’ve seen it before.”

I straightened and put on my coat. “Weird,” was all I could think to say.

“It happens. Sometimes I wonder why they bother putting people on the damned list if they don’t want them caught.” He put the paper back with the others.

I filed that away to think about later, though like a car or Corbin himself, I had no idea what I’d do with the information.

At the theater, Henry insisted on paying for the movie as well as the popcorn. We were early enough that the screen still showed homespun ads for neighborhood businesses while a local radio station played in the background. “So what
did
you find out about Lagos?” I asked.

“Nothing useful. None of my usual contacts were any help. Couldn’t get anyone who might know something to actually talk about it.”
 

The lights dimmed before I could dig for more.
 

The first half of the movie was fine, but then something changed. Henry seemed to be inhabiting more of the right side of his chair—the part closest to me—than the left, and I suspected he wasn’t just keeping the popcorn conveniently close. I couldn’t even focus on the film because I was so worried that Henry was going to squeeze my knee or start sucking my face.

Ten minutes later Henry put an arm around my shoulders. I chose that moment to lean over and scratch my calf, and when I sat up again, Henry’s hand was back in his lap where it belonged.
 

But then he flung an arm around me, turning my shoulders toward him. He pulled me close.
 

I froze. Did I want this?
 

Henry decided for me. His mouth pressed softly against mine, then he released me. “You have soft lips,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a
bad
kiss, but I wasn’t ready to explore that avenue. “Henry, I… I’m not looking for a relationship right now. Or for a fling,” I added quickly.

“Ok,” he said. The movie flashed to a dark scene, so I couldn’t see his face, couldn’t know if he was accepting what I’d said or if he was secretly planning to make another play later. “Watch the screen, not me,” he said, patting my arm, and I heard a smile in his voice.

That was the end of that.
 

Henry drove me home in silence, and when he reached the apartment building, he started to park his pickup truck.
 

Time to nip this in the bud. “Keep the engine running. I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow. It’s a weekday after all.”

There was a brief flash of annoyance on his face, but then a smile wiped it away. “Yeah, of course.”
 

Maybe men and women couldn’t be friends after all. I opened the door and stepped into the cold night.

“Audrey, I had fun.” He leaned over into the seat I’d just vacated, his hand touching where my butt had been. It occurred to me that the seat was still warm from my body heat.

“Me, too, Henry,” I said neutrally. “Thanks for the ride. And the movie and the company.”
 

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but I closed the door and quickly walked into the building.

A few minutes later, a tentative knocking at the door interrupted my post-platonic-date pity party. I considered not answering, but Henry would know that I was ignoring him.
 

The guy hadn’t done anything except kiss me. And he’d clearly gotten the picture, right? Otherwise he would have tried again.

I opened the door, some irrational part of me hoping that it wasn’t Henry, that it was Corbin. But Henry stood on the doorstep, his handsome face creased in anguish. His pickup was still running in the middle of the street, which I took as an excellent sign that he would be on his way soon.

“About tonight. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Won’t happen again.” He stuck out his hand. “We cool?”

Being gracious never cost anything, so I placed my hand in his. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but notice how warm and strong he was. “Of course.”

He smiled. “Great. By the way, there’s a new Indonesian place in Midway Plaza. Let me know if you want to check it out. No pressure.”

“I’ll do that. Good night.”

I closed and locked the door, then went to bed. Then I got up and navigated my apartment in the dark until I reached Corbin’s shrine. I checked the phone. Nothing. I reread Corbin’s only text and my response.

BOOK: Wanted by a Dangerous Man
13.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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