“It—it’s not like I asked for it,” I stuttered. “I don’t—”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s thrown down. He’s watching. Waiting. And that’s just too fucking bad.”
I’d lost complete control of the situation—that was clear. I’d just wanted to work at Chains to find something precious to me on the long shot that someone might pawn or sell it here. That’s it. That’s all. The sexy scenery provided by Lord’s presence—and the potential for a wild night with him—had been a bonus. I certainly wasn’t looking to become the prize in some street throw down that I couldn’t even begin to understand. This was bad. Very bad. My eyes darted to the bottle of Dom. I didn’t use booze to calm the shitstorms in my life anymore, and I wasn’t about to start again over something I didn’t even truly understand.
“I’m really going home now,” I said, reaching for the door handle.
Lord studied me. “You looking to run away, Elle? I can’t promise I’m not gonna chase.”
“Seriously? Who are you? Did you have a personality transplant?” I turned my back on him and began rambling to myself. “The man barely speaks to me and now he’s saying he’s going to chase me? Oh, and he wants to date me? Seriously? And now some gangster is sending Dom? I need to go home. I need a weekend and a do-over.” I closed my fingers over the doorknob and twisted, but a big hand on my elbow stopped me from pulling it open.
It took every ounce of my willpower to not look over my shoulder or down at the hand on my arm.
Lord’s voice was low. “This isn’t me having a personality transplant. This is about me protecting you from someone you don’t even have the good sense to be afraid of and going after what I want. If you weren’t so fucking sexy and sweet and quirky, maybe both Rix and I would have a shot at resisting you.”
I felt my resolve start to crumble. I was going to be in so much trouble. I had my rules for a reason. And it was clear that if I gave in to Lord, I’d lose the independence I was so fiercely protective of. I couldn’t sacrifice that piece of myself. I didn’t trust him—or anyone—enough to give them that kind of chance. But how was I supposed to fight this? I wanted him.
“I’m calling a time out,” I said.
“This is the game of life, sweet thing. No time outs until you’re done breathin’.” And with that, he spun me and tugged my body against his. My hands pressed flat against rock hard slabs of muscle. “And besides, a time out means I don’t get to kiss you, and I haven’t done nearly enough of that yet.”
Lord slowly slid his hand up my arm, as if waiting for me to bolt, but instead I stood mesmerized by him. His words. His touch. His blazingly blue eyes. He skimmed his thumb up my throat, and tilted my chin even higher as he bent toward me. I closed my eyes just as his lips brushed mine. Light, lazy touches. And then, in an instant, he cradled my jaw and … took. There was no other word for it. His tongue delved inside my mouth, dueling with mine, drawing me into the kiss against my better judgment. I knew I should be backing away, but I was rushing forward. I didn’t remember moving them, but my hands were gripping his shirt, clutching at him to keep him close.
This is bad, I told myself. But it’s so damn good.
Lord finally pulled away, steadying me, his hand lowering to my hip as I fell forward into him.
“Whoa. You okay?”
I didn’t know what I was, but I strongly suspected I wasn’t okay. In fact, I strongly suspected I might have just left okay behind and headed straight into this man is more dangerous than the one he’s set on protecting me from territory.
I nodded anyway. “I’m fine.” Because I was always fine. Even when I wasn’t.
“We’ll eat our supper, and then I’ll run you home. You can take your weekend and figure out whether you can handle what’s going on here.”
“And if I decide I can’t? Then what? It’s done?”
Lord’s dark gaze grew sharp. “Then I get to change your mind. Clothes optional.”
I shoved at his chest. “You’re such a guy.”
He grabbed his crotch. “And thank God for that.”
“Classy, Lord. Real classy.”
His smile was wide and the most open I’d ever seen it. “You’re the classy one here. We both know that. Now sit. I’ll get your food.” I had no idea how we’d gone from stand-off to laughing, but here we were. I’d been wound up, ready to run, and now I was sitting down and reaching for my po’ boy. It was like the man had defused a bomb and lived to tell about it.
What the hell was I going to do now?
That was a question for which I had no answer, so I just sat, and we ate in surprisingly companionable silence while I ignored the Dom on the desk.
When we’d finished, we headed back out into the shop … smack dab into the cops.
It’d been a lot of years since I’d been in handcuffs, and the way Hennessy was studying me told me I was narrowly avoiding being in them right now.
“When? And how?” I demanded.
“Two rounds to the back. Brianna Sanchez’s time of death is estimated to be approximately one o’clock this morning. Her body was found by sanitation department workers two blocks off Bourbon around seven A.M.”
“Holy shit. Bree?” Mathieu breathed. “No fucking way. She was just here on Saturday.”
Hennessy glanced to Mathieu and looked back to me. “And I understand from her mother that you fired her on Saturday. Accused her of stealing?”