Читать книгу Sweet Deception: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense - Angel Nicholas - Страница 9
Chapter Four
ОглавлениеThe guy who exited the elevator behind her was a real conversation piece all on his lonesome. The type of guy more often seen with a rough motorcycle gang than a delicate, upper-crust blonde. The smoothly shaven head, dark menacing eyes and bulging arms covered in dark tattoos weren’t real warm and fuzzy. His hooded gaze swept the room, pausing on Ally, and her nerve endings shriveled.
Marsing frowned before turning his attention to the blonde. “Celia, what are you doing here?”
Lucas leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. His narrowed eyes never wavered from the bald guy.
“I wanted you to meet Boner. We met last week at a club when he saved me from this horrid creeper dude, and we haven’t left one another’s side since.”
Her voice scraped against Ally’s ears, an irritating combination of vaporized arsenic and elegant old lace. Celia snuggled up to Boner’s—What kind of name is that, anyway?—muscular arm, smiled adoringly into his expressionless face, and waved a slender hand in Marsing’s direction. “Boner, this is my big brother, Greg.”
Boner jerked his chin up in one of those weird universal male greetings. “Yo, Greg. What’s up?”
“That’s Lucas.” The whine disappeared when Celia introduced Lucas, along with her smile.
Marsing’s narrowed gaze didn’t waver from Boner. “Boner, huh? What is it you do for a living?”
Boner shrugged. “I pick up jobs here and there, man.”
“Pick up jobs.” Marsing repeated the phrase slowly, his lips thinning.
“Greg.” Celia sighed dramatically. “Don’t be a bore.” Her bright-blue gaze landed on Ally, moving from her messy hair to her dirty bare feet. “Greg, who’s that? Another one of the strays you’re so fond of?”
Ally curled her toes into the thick carpet, shame and humiliation twisting around her spine.
Celia sniffed, her pert little nose elevated. “I really think it would be more appropriate to confine that sort of activity to your bachelor pad.”
Everyone turned to Ally. Fingers twisted in the curtains, she squirmed. Boner’s eyes narrowed, more unwelcome attention thickening the dislike coating the cool air.
Marsing stiffened. “My God, you sound just like Grandma, Celia.”
Celia’s snooty gaze swung back to Marsing. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment. Grandma was an unprecedented snob. Get over yourself.” Marsing shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. “This is Ally, a friend of mine, and you’ll treat her with respect.”
He didn’t say, “Or else,” but the words hung in the air. She couldn’t believe he’d defended her like that. Some of the tension eased out of her aching shoulders.
“Ally Thompson?” Boner rubbed his bald head and grinned. “Ain’t this my lucky day.”
He knew her name? Tension returned with a vengeance, closing her throat and sinking tentacles into the floor, freezing her to the spot.
An alert, crackling stillness washed over the room.
“Yeah. Why?”
Marsing stood with his legs spread, weight balanced on the balls of his feet. Ally frowned. Alarm tightened her muscles to the point of snapping, yet Marsing looked calm. Even she knew some tattooed bo-hunk knowing her name spelled trouble with a capital T.
An unpleasant gleam appeared in Boner’s eyes. “No reason.” One beefy arm reached behind him while the other went for the blonde’s slender arm.
Marsing and Lucas moved as smooth as butter on a hot Southern day. Lucas snatched Celia away from Boner, ignoring her shriek of outrage. The snake on Boner’s arm flexed and his hand reappeared sporting a big ol’ gun.
Before Ally could blink, Marsing had hauled her out of the room. Didn’t even pause as they crossed a spacious bedroom, or look back to make sure they weren’t being followed. Her heart pounded loud enough for him to hear, but he was too polite to comment. Thankfully.
“Damnit. Leave it to Celia to hook up with another loser. She’s always had shit for taste in men.”
Her oh-so-special experience with Officer Smith came to mind. Ally bit her lip but couldn’t quite hold in a muttered, “Must run in the family.”
She didn’t know Celia. Or Marsing, for that matter. Even so, she couldn’t help a niggle of uncomfortable sympathy for beautiful Celia. The irritation pouring off Marsing could have seared raw meat to a tender well-done.
Gunfire erupted in the other room. Her pulse skyrocketed and she instinctively ducked. Something shattered.
Marsing shook his head. “There goes Grandma’s favorite vase.”
He pulled her into a cool, white-tiled expanse of a bathroom and locked the door. “I’ll give you a choice. Do you want to stay in here or with me?”
She crossed her arms, doing her best to ignore the crashes and gunshots. “Tattoo Man is one room away, armed with a mighty big gun. I’m sticking to you like feathers on a duck.”
“What is it with you and nicknames, anyway?”
She flinched and took a step back. Making up nicknames was a stupid habit left over from the trauma of high school and embarrassing as hell. Not to mention a secret. Before she’d so utterly lost her composure with Marsing.
Marsing’s hand dove through his sandy hair, his heavy sigh filling the room. Something big slammed into the door and she jumped.
“Damn.” Marsing shoved her in the shower, strode across the room and opened an exterior door. Soft sunlight spilled in as he stuck his head out. He turned, eyes narrowed and lips tight with impatience, and snapped his fingers at her.
A frown tugged at her brow. Great, now she was a dog.
Another heavy thud hit the door and she raced across the room like a scared little mouse. Which she supposed fit. A snug hidey hole in the wall and a nice hunk of cheese sounded lovely about now. Grimacing, she followed Marsing outside and down the long terrace that stretched along the entire side of the condo. A door a few feet away swung open and he slammed her into the wall, his body covering hers. Heart pounding in her throat and hands tingling, she forgot to breathe.
“Hell, Jones,” Marsing snapped. “Warn a guy next time. I almost took your damn head off.”
Lucas snorted, pushed Celia behind him, and waved his hand toward the door. “Get back inside and give me a hand. This guy’s like the Hulk.”
Marsing steered her through the open door into the dark interior of the condo. Disoriented after the bright sunshine, she moved closer toward the relative safety of Marsing. A meaty hand clamped around her wrist, stopping her retreat. Panic flared, bright and hot. Jerked off her feet into a rock-solid chest, Ally cried out. The sound of guns cocking echoed through the room and froze her captor mid-motion.
“Not the wisest choice you’ve made in recent times, Boner,” Marsing said.
“Back off or I’ll snap her neck.” Boner’s voice rumbled through his barrel chest, his emotionless tone turning her knees to jelly. A soul-deep yearning for life surged in her breast. Sweet, sweet life. She didn’t want to die.
Boner clamped her against him like a human shield, one massive arm wrapped around her ribcage. Ally winced at the mental image. Hard metal dug into her temple. Her heart skipped a beat.
Facing Marsing and Lucas did not improve her desperation one iota. They stood to either side of the open doorway, guns drawn and pointed straight at her, despite Boner being the intended target. What fickle fairy did I tick off this morning?
The men’s voices swirled around her. Fighting to breathe, she forced herself to calm down before she dissolved into hysterics.
Instead of calm, sadness spread like a sedative through her limbs. The hard press of metal to her skin clarified the multitude of insecurities holding her back in life. How they dictated her behavior. Sadness morphed into irritation.
On the horizon, the sun disappeared. Ally took a deep breath and sagged in Boner’s tight grip. She surged back up, slamming her heel into his instep. He grunted. His grip loosened. As hard as she could, she jammed her elbow into his solar plexus. Boner’s arms fell and she spun, driving the heel of her hand into his nose while smashing her knee into his groin.
Boner crashed to the floor, curled in a fetal position and whimpered like a baby.
Holy crap.
“Ow, ow, ow…” She cradled her hand to her chest. Hitting someone hurt! She hobbled away.
Lucas holstered his gun and handcuffed Boner. Marsing lowered his gun and stared at her like he’d never seen her before.
She ignored him, slipping onto the deck and breathing in the moist evening air. Watching movies proved highly beneficial after all. Thank you, Miss Congeniality.
Shivering, she wrapped her arms tight around herself. When she closed her eyes, sensory memory replayed Boner’s vice-like arms and the press of steel against her flesh. She snapped her eyes open with a startled whimper.
“You okay, Ally?”
Detective Marsing. She refused to turn around and let him see the tears in her eyes. “I’m fine.”
His fingers encircled her arm. She stilled, waiting, but light footsteps sounded on the balcony.
“Greggy, O.M.G. I am so sorry. I had no idea. I swear.”
Marsing sighed, the puff of breath shifting her hair. “I know, Celia.”
He dropped his hand from her arm and Ally turned. Tears streamed down Celia’s porcelain cheeks, blue eyes luminous in the deepening night. Even now, her hair hung in a perfect blonde curtain down her slender back. After her brush with death, not even a twinge of envy ruffled Ally.
Marsing crossed to Celia’s side. “We need to work on your taste in men.”
“That’s for sure.” Lucas glared at Celia as he joined them on the deck. “Where the hell do you find these losers?”
“I didn’t know he was a…a…” Celia trailed off, paling under Lucas’ hot glare.
Ally turned all the way around and leaned her backside against the balcony railing. She welcomed the distraction they provided from the lingering terror beating through her. Unwittingly fascinated by this side of ice-cold Lucas, Ally stared. The heat in his eyes and friction of irritation in his voice could set off a forest fire.
“Maybe now you’ll show some intelligence with the men you screw.”
“Lucas.” Marsing’s low growl of warning sent a hot shiver down her spine. Irritation, she told herself firmly.
“Someone needs to save her from herself,” Lucas said.
Marsing crossed his arms. “Are you volunteering?”
Staring into Celia’s eyes, Lucas opened his mouth. His gaze drifted lower and he snapped his mouth shut. Ally’s eyebrows climbed. He shrugged a shoulder and strolled back into the condo, his cool nonchalance fooling no one. Except Celia. Ally took in her rounded shoulders and arms wrapped tight around her waist.
In a previous lifetime, Ally would have just stood there feeling sorry for her. Not now. Not after everything she’d been through today. “Why don’t we take a little walk down the balcony while the boys take care of our uninvited guest?”
She slid an arm around Celia’s shoulders and a vision sprang to mind, showcasing Ally as fat and ungainly beside Marsing’s Barbie-doll-perfect sister. Her mother had tried her hardest to mold her into a plastic-perfect image with rigid diets and ruthless exercise regimes. Utter misery and zero self-esteem was all she’d managed to achieve. Ally pushed the painful image away.
“I didn’t know he was a bad guy,” Celia murmured, head down. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“Everyone’s fine. There was no way you could have known. Don’t beat yourself up over something completely out of your control.”
Celia sniffed a little. “You’re sweet.”
Ally snorted. Their eyes met and they started giggling.
“Good grief.” Marsing muttered. “My condo isn’t fine.”
Celia’s giggles died and a dull flush stained her cheeks. “I know. I’m so stupid.”
Ally swung around, the unfairness of his accusation stinging. Her stomach knotted. She hated confrontation, but she wasn’t going to let Marsing’s selfishness pass. Maybe Celia did have bad taste in guys, but she wasn’t psychic.
“It’s not her fault your condo’s messed up.” Her voice trembled and she paused to take a deep breath. “It’s the fault of the creep in the other room.”
“True. It’s your fault too.”
“What?” Her eyes narrowed.
“How is any of this Ally’s fault?” Celia placed her delicate hand on Ally’s forearm. “That’s not fair, Greg. I’m the one who brought him here, like the stupid airhead blonde everybody thinks I am.”
“Or maybe…” Ally’s voice was low and silky. “The fault lies directly at the feet of a certain well-trained, armed detective.”
He spun on his heel and disappeared inside.
Ally glared after him, for the first time understanding the term “seeing red”. What a jerk.
“Don’t pay any attention to him.” Celia smiled. “I’m sorry, I’m not very good with names and I don’t remember yours.”
“Ally Thompson.”
“Celia Marsing. Suppose we should go see what the boys are up to?”
Ally glanced toward the open doorway.
“It’s okay. As irritable as he gets, Greg won’t bite. Lucas, on the other hand…”
“I don’t think biting you is what Lucas has in mind.” Ally flushed at her boldness.
“What?” Celia’s eyes widened. “You think Lucas is into me?”
“Definitely.” The steamy looks Lucas kept throwing Celia’s way were a fire hazard. “The man has the hots for you.”
Light from the kitchen showed hectic color flooding Celia’s cheeks. Her wide eyes were hazy and unfocused, as if the very idea of Lucas desiring her got her all hot and bothered. With a small smile, Ally left her to her thoughts and headed for the kitchen.
She paused in the open doorway. Uniformed police officers hauled Boner to his feet and dragged him out, moaning. He shuffled between them like a ninety-year-old woman without her walker. A few feet away, Lucas and Marsing were having an intense conference with an older man in a suit. His bushy eyebrows furrowed impressively as they talked, though their voices were too low to overhear. She hesitated in the doorway.
“Ma’am?” Apprehension clear in his brown eyes, an officer stood a safe distance from her. Was he worried she’d knee him in the balls too? “I need to get a brief statement from you, if you have a few minutes.”
She moved to follow him into the dining room but paused. A shiver of awareness touched her and she turned to meet Marsing’s gaze. Lucas lounged beside him and the older man had vanished.
“Lucas,” she said. “Celia is still out on the patio. Alone.”
A spark lit Lucas’ chilly eyes. He didn’t hesitate to head for the patio. Marsing stared after him, a stunned expression on his face. Ally turned back to the officer waiting for her.
A short time later, she set aside the finished statement with a tired sigh. Lucas strolled through the room, Celia at his side, their heads bent together in quiet conversation. Neither one seemed to notice her sitting alone at the large mahogany table as they passed. Invisibility was nothing new, but no one seemed to need her. Should she just leave now or what?
Going home didn’t seem like an option. Didn’t criminals stake out people’s homes and lie in wait for them? Then there was her lack of shoes. Lack of clothes.
Heaving a sigh, she rose and wandered into the living room. The beautiful room was demolished. Bullet holes in the walls, lamps knocked over and broken, furniture scattered, pictures askew. Ugly reality swept through her, making her head throb, pulse pound and skin go clammy. The room had been stunning when she arrived. An entirely different sort of stunning came to mind now.
Head spinning, she made a beeline for the elevator.
“Where you headed, Sugar Lips?”
She glanced back. Detective Marsing leaned against the doorframe, all rippling nonchalance as he stared at her with the familiar curl of amusement on his lips, total Surfer Dude mode.
“Well, I have no shoes and only the clothes on my back. I was thinking I’d take a taxi home.”
“I don’t think so.” Despite his lazy stance, the intensity of his stare made her twitchy.
Feeling sick, she flicked her wrist at the room. Destroyed because of her. She couldn’t hold onto her self-righteous irritation enough to keep referring to him as Detective. “I’m so sorry about your home, Greg. I feel awful. I really do. I clearly can’t stay here and I’m not your responsibility.”
“You think you’d fare better on your own? In your home, which is no doubt staked out?”
All the blood pooled in her feet, leaving her lightheaded and feeling like she’d fallen into some sort of alternative reality. What had happened to her boring, predictable, safe little bubble of existence?
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Guess you’ll have to learn how to relax and hang loose.”
“What?”
“You know, chill.”
Was this guy for real? Intense, rude, Super-Cop personified one minute, totally unhelpful Surfer Dude the next. She didn’t need this aggravation. “What kind of advice is that? I have no way to get anywhere, I’ve witnessed a murder, men keep trying to kill me, and all you can say is I need to chill?”
She spun on her bare foot to leave. Pain shot through her. Gasping, she looked down at the pool of shattered porcelain all around her. Based on the limp flowers scattered across the floor, the pieces had formed a vase in a previous life. One more thing to feel guilty about. Fortunately, she had the agonizing pain caused by glass shards in the bottom of her foot to distract her. Lovely.
Greg lifted her in strong arms and swung her against his hard chest.
“What are you doing?” she gasped. “I’m too heavy. Put me down.”
“I’m helping.” He said it with the angelic innocence of a five-year-old boy caught putting a bug in a girl’s hair. “You’re injured. And you are not too heavy.”
Disarmed by the close proximity, she clamped her lips shut and shot him a skeptical look. The amused sparkle in his eyes was at odds with the intensity of his gaze. Confusing man.
He juggled her slightly to get through the arched doorway into the dining room and scorching heat suffused her face. She could just hear the gears working in his head, evaluating her weight. He probably thought she sat around eating donuts, bags of chips and fried food. Drowning in embarrassment, she shut her eyes.
In another lifetime, in a different body, she’d love a hunky guy carting her around. Since she was still in this one, she didn’t.
He set her on one of the elegant chairs. “Be right back.”
Probably wanted to run into the other room to catch his breath. Seconds later, he returned with a first-aid kit and knelt at her feet. He pulled out a pair of ginormous tweezers and she flinched.
“Easy, sweetheart.”
Her foolish heart clenched over the casual endearment. Department Don Juan, she reminded herself fiercely. His eyes locked on hers and the helpful little reminder fled the building.
“I’ll be gentle, I promise.” Imprudent or not, the fatal combination of his solemn gaze and low voice caused a hairline crack in her defensive wall.
He carefully placed her foot on his bent knee, angling it to the side so he could see what he was doing. She focused on the wall over his head, unwilling to watch him pick bloody pieces of porcelain from her foot.
She sucked in a breath when he pulled out the first piece.
He held it up. “Yep, Grandma’s antique vase died a brutal death.”
Ally winced. Despite his crooked grin, the pain of the loss shone in his eyes. He removed more shards, his gentleness soothing even though it didn’t mitigate the pain. He set down the tweezers and took out a bottle of antiseptic. She tensed. The cold antiseptic burned inside the cuts and she swallowed a sob. A few wraps of light gauze he secured with medical tape and he set her foot down and looked up.
“As to your other issues, my sister keeps a room here with clothes and stuff in it. I’m sure she won't mind if you borrow some of it.”
“Seriously?” Half-laughing, half-groaning, mortified beyond belief to be having this discussion with a ridiculously attractive stranger, she closed her eyes. “Nothing that belongs to your sister would fit me.”
“Why not?”
Good grief. Surely, he wasn’t that clueless. No way on God’s green earth was she explaining. She could only take so much humiliation. “They just won’t, okay?”
He shrugged and rose. “Whatever. At least see if Celia has a pair of shoes you can wear.”
“Fine.” Gracefulness be damned. She surged out of the chair and hobbled from the room, ignoring her throbbing feet.
“Her room is the first one on the left down the hallway.”