I pull a cigarette from its pack and slide it into my mouth.“Don’t ask for much, do you?”
She grabs the cigarette and tosses it over her shoulder.“This isn’t a joke, Lucien.And stop smoking.It’s terrible for your lungs.And your skin.”She glances at me and lifts one brow.“Actually, that might be why you’re looking so old these days.”
“I’m not looking old,” I say, caught off guard and strangely offended by the off-hand comment.“I’m only four years older than you!”
She kicks the cane out from underneath my hand and huffs.“And yet you look ancient and are using a cane.That doesn’t say much for your health, old man.”
I fall forward when the cane disappears–partially an act–and when I come up again, I’m close enough to feel every inch of her body against my own.Her breasts press against my chest, her nipples rock hard under the sheer blouse, and her hips fit neatly between my own, just as they always have.Brooks is tall for a woman but I’m taller, and I’ve got at least a full head on her these days.I put a finger under her chin and tip it up so she’s looking at me, and her eyes go dark with something I don’t recognize.Fear.Lust.
Expectation.
Something rears its head inside my chest, and I forget to move for several seconds with the force of it.I thought on my balcony that the house was home, but I was wrong.The house is a structure where I lay my head and find safety, but home?Real home?The security of knowing you’ve found a place here your soul will always belong, and where you can always feel safe?
That’s staring up at me right now, barefoot and smelling of coffee and vanilla, her lips parted and hair still messy with sleep.Those eyes are the same ones that met mine when I was only sixteen and so intent on conning my friends that I hadn’t even realized anyone was watching, until I looked up and found blond hair and blue eyes and a face so beautiful I’d thought I was dreaming.
She was home to me for so long that when she left, I tore the world apart trying to replace her.
That thought brings me back to my senses and I step away from her.She might have been home once, but that was a long time ago.These days, she’s just a girl who needs my help and called on our history to secure it.
“You have a plan, then?”I asked, turning back to the conversation we started.To my annoyance, my voice comes out husky and full of something I don’t dare name.
“Of course I do.”
She grins at me, and it’s the first time I’ve seen that smile in years.It does something strange to my stomach.
Something I don’t like.
I narrow my eyes at her.“Of course?Why am I afraid that means it’s a very bad, very dangerous idea?”
“Because it probably is.But it’ll work.I just need access to your network.And your contacts.And transportation.”
I shake my head.“No.You’re not leaving here on your own.That’s non-negotiable.”It’s out of the question, honestly.Now that she’s here, I’m not letting her out of my sight.I might not trust her, and I certainly don’t need her, but I would kill myself if anything happened to her.She can get in trouble on her own time.If she’s with me, I’m going to keep her safe.Hard stop.
Her gaze narrows to match mine.“I’m not here as your captive, Lucien.I’m not going to play that game.”
I lean forward and brush my lips over hers, unable to stop myself, and find her lips soft and coffee-flavored.Hotter than I could have imagined.Smooth and perfect.The kiss is a quick one, barely a brush, but when I pull away, I feel as if I’ve been branded.
The world is on fire.And I’m burning along with it.
“Not a captive,” I breathe.“We’ll call you a guest.”I turn and start walking away, desperate to put some space between us, and toss the rest of my answer over my shoulder.“I’ll get you access to the network.And I’ll help you with your bad idea.But only because it happens to match with mine.Don’t step out of line, Brooks, or I’ll change my mind.Consider yourself warned.”
Brooks
Ibust through the doors of the ridiculous mansion, the files clutched to my chest and a thumb drive in my pocket.
That was easier than I expected it to be, and I take a moment to grin to myself.After our little meeting in the garden, where Lucien tried to not only sweet talk me but also intimidate me–neither of which worked–I went into the house, showered and changed in the suite he gave me, and then went to find him in his office.He’d promised me access to his network and contacts, and I didn’t want to wait.
If the timeline I have living rent-free in my head is right, Aislyn could only have three more days before she’s shipped to wherever they’re sending her.If she’s been kidnapped by the sex traffickers Lucien is targeting.And if they’ve brought her to New Orleans rather than sending her immediately to some other destination.
And if they’re using a generous timeline rather than one that rushes their cargo immediately to other ports.
I shiver at the word ‘cargo’–no human should be called that–and lengthen my strides, the files burning in my arms and the thumb drive nearly humming in my pocket.The moment Lucien gave me access to his network, I jumped onto the computer he loaned me and started downloading everything I could find.An automated search nailed down the files on the girls, and another gave me most of the research Lucien and his team have done.I printed as much as I could in the short time I gave myself, combined it with the file Lucien gave me on the plane, and headed for the door, my phone in my hand.
I don’t have my laptop with me–that’s still in the beat-up apartment in Brooklyn–but I know someone who’ll bring me one.And I want to go through this information in a house that doesn’t hold Lucien Boudreaux and his double meanings.
The insinuations.
The annoying new habit of running his fingers over my lips while bending over to breathe me in like I’m some sort of fucking perfume.
