Читать книгу Men of Honour: Ready, Set, Jett / When You Dare / Trace of Fever / Savor the Danger / A Perfect Storm / What Chris Wants / Bare It All - Lori Foster - Страница 32

DARE HATED THE interruption, but since most calls went through the house phone, where Chris could vet them, any call on his cell was personal and therefore important.

With one last lingering look at Molly, he walked over to retrieve his phone from atop the refrigerator. After a quick glance at the number to identify his caller, he flipped the phone open. “Yeah?”

Without preamble, Trace said, “Would you be willing to do me a favor?”

“Depends.” Dare looked at Molly. For Trace, he usually gave blind agreement, knowing that his friend only asked when necessary. But now he had someone else’s welfare to consider. For now at least, ensuring Molly’s safety was his number-one priority. “What’s up?”

Frustration sounded in Trace’s tone. “Alani is insisting on meeting your … complication.”

Dare’s mouth twitched at how Trace put that. Molly was a complication, all right, in more ways than he’d figured on. But maybe he should stop referring to her as such, considering how she’d gotten under his skin. “Why?”

“Hell if I know. I hate to ask, Dare. God knows you’ve done enough. But I think it might be good for her to talk to another woman who’s been through the same thing.”

Watching Molly wander over to the heavy bag to give it a tentative push, Dare said, “It wasn’t the same. I told you that.”

“And I told Alani. But she’s pressing me for a meeting anyway.”

Molly tried smacking the heavy bag, and, with an expression of pain, she cradled her hand and frowned.

The personalities of the two women couldn’t be more disparate; one was a commonsense survivor, the other a very lovable princess. “Want to tell me why?”

It wasn’t easy for Trace to admit that he needed help with his sister. “She’s having trouble adjusting, Dare. I’m worried about her.”

“Hang on.” Dare lowered the phone, which gained Molly’s attention. When she looked toward him, he said, “Alani wants to meet with you.”

Surprise flashed over her features. “Me? But why?”

“You were both taken, both held against your will. Knowing Alani, she’s probably worried about you still, and she maybe just wants to connect with someone who’ll understand what she’s been through.” Already knowing what her answer would be, Dare waited.

“Is she okay?”

That was debatable, but Dare said only, “She’s safe and healthy, and still coping.”

“Well, sure. I mean, of course she is.” Hands together, brows down in worry, Molly nodded. “I’d be happy to meet her if she thinks that will help. But when?”

Dare went back to the phone. “No problem, Trace. When were you thinking?”

“Let me talk to Alani, and I’ll get back to you. We’ll work it out.”

“Give me a call when you know.”

“Will do. And Dare, thank you.”

They hung up, and Dare dropped the phone down onto his gloves. He watched Molly, saw her put her hand to her stomach as if to calm an unsteady belly. Did the idea of meeting with Alani distress her? Would it be an ugly reminder to her of how she had been separated and treated differently from the others?

“I feel so bad for her.” She looked up at Dare. “She’s young, isn’t she?”

Molly’s capacity for compassion amazed Dare. “She’s twenty-two.”

Appearing distressed, Molly shook her head. “Thank God she has you, Dare. I’m not sure anyone else could have gotten her out of there.”

Dare stepped over closer to the heavy bag. “Molly?”

She jerked her attention back to him. “Hmm?”

“How are you feeling?”

She waved that off. “I’m fine.”

Something was going on in that quick mind of hers—but what? Molly hadn’t come downstairs just to talk to him about his work or his social life. She wanted, needed, something.

For now, Dare let her keep her distance. Besides, he was sweaty as hell and still edgy with lust. He figured he could work himself into the ground, and the second he saw Molly again it wouldn’t matter one iota.

“You know,” he said to her, “you always say you’re fine, about everything.”

As if to keep from chickening out, she rushed into speech. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

His senses prickled. “We were talking.”

“I know, but there’s something else I wanted to know.”

“Yeah?” What more could there be? She had the basics of his history. If she wanted a body count, she could forget it. He didn’t dwell on the men he’d killed, but he didn’t celebrate them, either.

Her teeth caught her bottom lip. She shifted her stance. “Last night …”

Awareness sharpening, Dare took a step closer. “Last night?”

She half turned away, then jerked around to face him again. Hands out, face scrunched, she said, “I’d sort of forgotten how bad I look.”

Objection to that snapped down his brows. The second she’d come downstairs, he’d lost his battle with lust. Every muscle in his body burned, but not from exercise; it was sexual need that made him rigid.

And she thought she looked bad enough to discourage him? Dare put his fists on his hips and stared at her hard. “Come again?”

Her expression showed torment and determination. “I know the bruises and other marks are bad enough, but it’s worse than that. I don’t wear a lot of makeup, but like most women I have my own routine, and the fact that I’ve missed it shows. On top of being worn-down, my hair is the worst ever.” Self-consciously, she shoved a hand into the unruly tresses. “I look like … like a hag.”

Dare’s jaw tightened. “Not even close.”

But it was as if she didn’t hear him. “You had kissed me … before, I mean … so I assumed that …”

A constriction started in his chest. “I already told you why I kissed you.”

She shook her head as if dumbfounded by his reaction. “I know, but all things considered, it still seems like it was just to distract me, and to … help me.” Gesturing, she added, “You’re a guy, and guys don’t always do or say things that they mean.”

She dared to group him in with the assholes she’d known? Did she compare him to that dipshit ex-fiancé of hers?

Son of a bitch.

He hadn’t figured on that; if anything, he thought he’d be too different from other men.

Fighting himself was hard enough; fighting her, too, was damn near impossible.

Staring into her eyes, Dare held her gaze. “I want you, Molly. Never doubt that.”

This time her hand went over her heart, and Dare saw a pulse beat wildly in her throat.

“I know you said you did, but—”

“Still holds true.” He took a step closer, but then stopped himself. If he touched her, he’d lose it for sure. “After last night, more than ever.”

Shoulders slumping, Molly shook her head. “I don’t understand you at all. Everything you did last night—”

“Yeah.” God, he would remember that for the rest of his life. No way would he let her deny what they’d done. “I got you off, and you liked it.”

She blinked fast in mixed embarrassment and confusion. “But then you stopped!” Her dark eyes were huge and filled with accusation. “If it’s not because I’m ugly right now, well, then, tell me why you stopped. Make me understand.”

Ugly? Jesus, is that what she thought? Here he was, doing his damndest to be noble, and she thought she wasn’t appealing enough?

Through his teeth, Dare said, “You want me to spell it out for you?”

Uncertainly, she nodded.

“Fine.” Let her deal with the truth. “If all I wanted was a fuck, trust me, Molly, you damn well would have been fucked.”

Her mouth fell open.

Dare turned, pounded the heavy bag three more times, but it didn’t help. Knuckles aching, he dropped his hands. How the hell could he make her understand what he hadn’t yet figured out for himself?

Voice strained, he said, “I like you, Molly.”

He heard her inhale.

Over his shoulder, gaze sharp and temper primed, he looked at her. “I care about you.”

“You do?”

In two long strides, he closed the distance between them. She backed up, but then bumped into the wall.

“Tonight.” Because he couldn’t stop himself, Dare flattened his hands on the wall to either side of her head. He leaned closer, loomed over her without letting his body touch hers.

“Tonight?” she whispered.

At five-seven, she was considerably shorter than him, small, delicate, vulnerable. And he was wild for her. He wanted to carry her to the ground, pin her down with his body and take his fill.

Breathing hard, Dare bent and put his mouth to hers. He didn’t touch her in any other way. He didn’t dare tempt himself that much; he couldn’t go there, not right now.

The kiss was warm and firm, and though Molly didn’t realize it yet, it was possessive as hell. A line had just been crossed, and he didn’t give a damn. She’d asked for it, so she’d get it, and then they could deal with her reaction together.

When she moaned and touched her hands to his chest, he straightened and took a quick step back. “Tonight, Molly. If you still feel the same tonight, then I’m done objecting.”

“Tonight?”

Was she having second thoughts? “Make damn sure you know what you want before then, because I’m not a man who’s good with half measures.” He caught her chin, determined to make her understand. “Once we’re in that bed together, we’re going to be there for a few hours, maybe all damn night. And trust me, Molly, before we’re done, you’ll know there’s not a damn thing about you that I find unappealing.”

Her lips trembled; she covered his hand with her own. “All right.” She drew in a slow, shivering breath and started to reach for him again.

And Chris yelled down the stairs, “Is Molly down there? I can’t find her.”

Molly jumped back as if she’d been caught doing something naughty. Her reaction was amusing, but Dare was a long way from humor. “Chris was gone?”

She nodded. “He went into town to get my stuff.”

Dare studied her flushed face, and then he noted how her nipples had tightened beneath her sweatshirt. Without taking his gaze off her breasts, he yelled up to Chris, “She’ll be right there.”

“Ooookay,” Chris said, and they both heard the basement door close.

Chris was giving them privacy, but Dare didn’t want it. Not here, not like this. But now that he’d told Molly how he felt, the barriers seemed very insubstantial. If he didn’t get some space, he’d end up taking her on the cold concrete floor.

“I need to shower,” he told her, “and then I’ll be right up.” As dismissals went, that was pretty clear.

“Oh. Right.” Keeping her back to the wall, Molly sidled toward the stairs. “I’ll just be up there. With Chris.”

Dare couldn’t take his gaze off her. “Give me twenty minutes.”

She continued to retreat. “Twenty minutes.”

Obviously he’d thrown her for a loop. Seemed fair to Dare, given how she’d turned him inside out.

His jaw flexed. “Get going, Molly, before I change my mind.”

She turned and hustled up the stairs, fascinating Dare with that taut behind and the bouncing of her full breasts. He stood there transfixed, watching her until she reached the top of the stairs and disappeared from his sight.

Damn, but she was something. Pure. Honest.

A great contradiction to the life he’d built for himself, a life of precision, deception and detection.

Being around Molly felt good.

Today he’d make her confront her life back home, and, God willing, tonight she’d still want him.

KATHI BERRY-ALEXANDER finished giving directions to one of the well-mannered household staff before she started down the hallway of the mansion she shared with her husband, Bishop Alexander. All her life, she’d been groomed for the skillful organization and planning required for a residence this large—not that Bishop understood or appreciated her significant contribution to making their home comfortable. He was a very busy man, an important, influential man, and he couldn’t be expected to care about such things. She knew that, in many ways, he considered her dispensable.

But she loved him anyway.

She loved the prestige he provided, the social circle, the authority.

He might not be the most charming man around, but he was an excellent provider and a respectable husband that society admired and that some even revered.

Her parents had raised her with advantages, but they weren’t powerful like Bishop. Marriage to him ensured that she kept a prestigious edge over others.

She happily basked in the cold shadow of his success.

What Bishop couldn’t or wouldn’t give her, she was resourceful enough to get on her own.

As Kathi looked around at the beautiful artwork on the walls and the fresh flowers in multiple vases, she nodded in satisfaction. Meticulous detailing ensured that nothing would ever mar her perfect existence.

Mentally listing her duties for the coming evening, Kathi considered the yoga class in an hour, then lunch with friends before she’d visit the salon in preparation for a dinner party with her husband’s business contacts.

Everything revolved around those contacts. Over the years, Bishop’s business investments grew more diversified, and even extended into political backing. She didn’t understand all of his dealings, but she knew that he owned a chain of gun stores and several recreational properties. Business didn’t interest her; she received a generous household allowance and personal account, and should anything ever happen to Bishop, she was a major beneficiary of his will. The house, the properties, would remain hers.

She was satisfied.

As she strode along the marble floors, Kathi’s heels clicked rhythmically in a soothing cadence until she stepped into the master bedroom in search of her purse. That’s when she spotted Bishop out on the veranda.

Despite the cool day and brisk wind, he wore no jacket. With his cell phone to his ear and tension in his shoulders, he leaned on the ornate iron railing and stared out at the grounds.

He spoke in a tone harsh with anger, and Kathi couldn’t help but overhear him.

“Apparently she was missing, and I didn’t know it.” He paused, then added, “Well, of course it’s a problem, because that crude Neanderthal felt free to accost me at a goddamned club!”

Kathi couldn’t believe her ears. Someone had dared to confront Bishop? Out in the open? He didn’t appear hurt, but all she could see was his back.

Concerned, she started to go to him, but hesitated when he blasted the caller with rage.

“How could I tell him anything that I didn’t know?” Bishop ran a hand through his hair. “No, you can’t ask around. I already told you, he threatened me if I said a word to anyone. If you go blabbing, then he’ll damn well know I was talking, right?”

Stiffening, Kathy wondered who would dare to do such a thing. She didn’t understand the complexity of Bishop’s reach, but she knew her husband was a powerful man with many important friends.

And yet someone had the gall to encroach on their perfect existence? Unacceptable.

Bishop lost his control and shouted loud enough for the staff to hear. “How the fuck should I know?”

Appalled, Kathi stepped out to the veranda, too, admonishing him. “Bishop, remember yourself.”

The look he sent her would have made most people quail. But Kathi cared more about appearances than his temper. She hadn’t worked this hard to have his bad humor fracture their sterling reputation.

“Come inside to talk,” she urged him. “I’ll give you the privacy you need.” She took his arm, but he jerked free of her hold and turned his back on her.

To her relief, he did lower his tone when he spoke again to his caller. “I’m telling you, this goon knew a lot of my personal business, so I’m not taking any chances. He claims to have all kinds of reach, and given what he already knows, I believe him. All I want you to do is find out—discreetly—who he is and how he knows me. No, I don’t have any suggestions on how you do it. That’s what I pay you for!”

Kathi watched as her husband almost threw the phone. She didn’t flinch, and in the end, he drew a calming breath, closed the cell and jammed it back into his pocket.

Inside, she was shaking, but outwardly she tried to give him what she knew he needed. “I apologize for blundering in on your private call.”

His eyes burned with disdain. “There’s never any goddamned privacy around here.”

Kathi steadied herself with a deep breath. “We’ve discussed this, Bishop. Your library is off-limits to everyone except during the morning cleaning.”

“I think it’s bugged.”

“Bugged?” She put a hand to her chest in shock. “Are you serious?”

Eyes narrowed and red, he paced past her, then back again. “I don’t know. But I feel exposed in there.”

She couldn’t credit such a thing, but she would not take chances. “Shall I have it examined?”

His teeth sawed together, and he glared at her. “Do you have an answer for every fucking thing? Damn it, don’t you ever get rattled?”

“Well, of course.” She touched his arm, and, despite his coldness toward her, she felt the fine, masculine hair there, the warmth of his skin. He was a handsome, powerful man, and she protected what was hers. “But I want to be here for you always. It’s my role to do whatever I can to help you—”

“Christ, woman,” he shouted at her, jerking free of her touch yet again. “You fucking smother me.”

She started to apologize again, but held back at the look he leveled on her. “Who is missing?”

He narrowed his eyes and almost as an accusation said, “Molly was taken.”

Kathi backed up a step. “Taken? What do you mean?”

“You run the house,” he told her. “You tell me.”

Bewildered, she shook her head. “Your daughter doesn’t live here. She’s not under my jurisdiction, so I have no idea—”

“That was sarcasm, damn it.”

“I see.” His temper was ripe today, scorching her.

Not bothering to hide his disgust, he pushed past her. “But one would think you could keep up with your stepdaughters at the very least. If you had, then maybe I wouldn’t have been taken off guard.”

And with that, Bishop stormed through the bedroom and, Kathi knew, out of the house.

He hadn’t said if Molly was okay or not, leaving her to wonder.

She took a moment to compose herself, but no more than a moment. Regardless of this unfortunate turn, she had duties for the day and she would never allow her own emotions to keep her from those responsibilities. Too many people depended on her. She would attend her yoga class as scheduled.

But first … first she had a phone call to make. And unlike her husband, she never did so without the privacy needed.