Pure fire burned through my limbs and my brain shut down. I bolted for the front door. I’d known from the beginning that I shouldn’t do business with Madam Winters—a woman who was rumored to run abrothel, not a hotel—and I sure as shit didn’t want to die tonight.
2
RJ CHANDLER
The aptly namedWinter darted off and reminded me of some ethereal being in his pure black clothing with his white hair—maybe Jack Frost. I shook my head and sighed in irritation, rushing after him into the lobby. He zigged left, and I zagged after him around one of the puffy red couches. The thrill of the chase caught fire in my blood.
Figures.He had to be a crook. Every time I started to feel bad for a pretty face the person went and did something to remind me of why I didn’t trust people anymore. He was quicker than I would’ve given him credit for and easily dodged through a group of women in party dresses with apologies falling from his lips—a dark spirit surrounded by bright holiday cheer. The ladies glanced up at me in alarm as I finally began to pursue him for real, putting on some speed.
I’d almost started to believe Winter was telling the truth. This wasn’t even a clever game. Who was dumb enough to take Madam Winters’s money and stiff her? Even the muggers I used to drag off the street to jail were smarter. I began to run as he neared the front doors. Two other men working security closed in, but I shook my head at them because I was almost to him. I easily snatched Winter around the waist and hauled him back against my body. He gasped and trembled, going stock still. I sucked in a breath. His slim body was all warm, firm muscles and he felt better than he should’ve in my arms.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear,” he said, tilting his head back to look up into my face. His beautiful blue eyes were wide and starbursts gleamed in his pupils, a reflection of the cut-crystal chandeliers overhead. He wasn’t very big; the top of his head only came up to my chin.
“Then why did you run?” I grumbled, shaking him.
He gasped and his face crumpled as if he was in pain, and I hated seeing the distress that flashed across his refined features. Sighing, I turned us toward the elevator to the left of the white marble grand staircase and used my body to push him forward.
“Because I know how these things go,” he said, so quietly I had to bend closer to hear him. “Someone has to take the blame and I’m the only someone here!”
He began to struggle again. I growled, which made him behave and walk. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
He nodded.
We got to the elevator, and he was like a rock in my arms. I pushed the button and once the silver doors were open, I sort of swept him forward. I didn’t mean to rough him up, but he stumbled and went crashing against the wall. I winced and went to help him straighten, but he skittered, just the same as a terrified kitten, into the corner and covered his face with his hands, obviously afraid I would beat him for real. Sighing, I pushed the button for the second floor.
He hadn’t uncurled by the end of the elevator ride, so I lightly tugged on his elbow. I had no idea what was running through his mind. “Let’s go, sunshine.”
He shook his head. “Was that a crack about my hair?” he asked, voice wobbling.
Fuck, he sounded terrified. I didn’t want to give a shit. He was in trouble, and he’d earned his just desserts by screwing over Madam Winters and thinking he could get away with it. But his shoulders shook and his breath hitched—and my stupid heart squeezed. I went down on one knee and the elevator doors closed again.
He didn’t look up.
Attempting to be gentle, I tugged his hands away from his face. His eyes were still too wide and his pink bottom lip trembled.
“Tell her the truth and don’t try to wiggle like a worm out of whatever you did. Just tell herwhatyou did,whyyou did it, apologize, and offer tomake it right. She’s a criminal, plain and simple, but she respects honesty. She wants the world to make sense.”
He shook his head.
There went that awful feeling in my chest again—a terrible pang.
“I don’t understand. I really did send the jewelry over here. How could anyone know I had a delivery for Madam Winters?” He leaned toward me and seemed to be begging for answers with his whole body, especially the pout on his lips.
“You’re trying to convince me you’re telling the truth?” I sighed. “It’s a losing game, sunshine.”
“I am!”
I stood, finished with this bullshit, and jabbed the button to open the doors once more. I shoved his shoulder. “March.”
He gave me an unhappy glare over his shoulder but exited the elevator ahead of me. After a trek down several different hallways over plush carpet, we reached an arched red-and-gold wooden door.
Winter sent me a tiny frown. “This reminds me of the bold entryways in Paris. This must be Madam Winters’s room, right?”
I didn’t bother to answer, but I did knock, because if there was one thing the madam valued above anything else, it was her privacy.
“Enter,” she called, voice thick with irritation.
Once we were in the suite, it was clear things were bad. The shadows in the corners were deep because she’d only switched on one lamp. She paced around the white spindly legged couches and a tall table with a red poinsettia plopped in the middle. Her blonde hair was down around her shoulders and a little frizzy. Her heels had been abandoned in a heap and her face was pinched—thankfully not in a way that made me worry she would ask me to take the dainty Winter and drop him off a roof.
