Which means I am going home.Just not for the reason Lucien Boudreaux wants.
I leave the elevator when it hits the ground floor and make my way quickly through the dark lobby toward the main doors, my mind flying ahead of me to make travel arrangements and figure out who I can count on in my old hometown.I’m no longer thinking about New York, or anyone here.I’m already in the dark, humid air of New Orleans, searching for a group of girls that needs saving.
Which is why I almost run into Lucien Boudreaux before I see him, leaning against the door of a black sedan in a suit nearly as black as his fucking soul.He’s all tousled brown hair and face as handsome as the devil, a cane at his side and his men surrounding the car behind him.He looks smooth and suave, as ever, and my first thought is that he should have been a pirate.Swashbuckling good looks that make you want to crawl into bed with him and do whatever he asks you to...and a tendency to sell anyone who gets too close.
My second thought is that he must be able to hear when I’m thinking about him and fly right to me.Maybe he’s a fucking vampire rather than a pirate, with the ability to read minds and fly.
“Speak of the Devil, and he will appear,” I breathe.
“Are you talking about me, love?”he drawls.“Because I was under the impression you were avoiding me, not summoning me.And I’m getting tired of waiting.”
Lucien
God, she’s beautiful.
It’s been a week since I’ve seen her and I’d already forgotten the way she takes up all the air around her.The tip of her chin, as if she’s waiting for the world to fall at her feet.The flash of that gaze, just daring anyone to get in her way.The face of an angel, with broad eyes and cheeks round enough to dimple when she smiles.
If you can get her to smile.
My hands clench at my sides with the memory of how soft that skin is, and the scent of her neck.Her hair.The spot right behind her ear.
I was in love with this girl, once.More than in love.I was going to marry her and spend the rest of my life with her, and I would have thanked God or Satan or the closest witch doctor every day for putting her in my path and convincing our fathers that our marriage was the best way to an alliance.I would have held her and protected her for the rest of my fucking days.
If she’d stuck around and let me do it.
Now...
Now I remind myself that she’s not just beautiful but also a she-devil.Dangerous.Reckless.
Annoying.
I watch her storm in my direction, her face covered by a glare, and can’t stop the smile that creeps over my lips.Or the way my cock is suddenly pressing against the zipper of my trousers.Because my brain might remember her beauty and danger, but my body remembers something else entirely.Something hot and reckless in a dark closet we weren’t supposed to be in, with people strolling along outside the door and my hand over her mouth.
I can’t help it.I’ve always liked dangerous things.And Brooks Landry is the most dangerous creature I’ve ever met.
I don’t move to greet her, though.Because I’ve been following her for the last week, intent on bringing her to heel after the promise she made me, and now that I’ve finally found her, I’m not going to make it easy on her.
This time, I’m going to force her to come to me.
“You,” she hisses, drawing to a stop right in front of me.
“Me,” I agree easily.“Were you expecting someone else?”
Her eyes flash to the cane at my side, and she smirks.“Not really.Finally admitting your age, Lucien?Or is that just a fashion statement?”
I nearly laugh at that.Classic Brooks: right to the offensive.I managed to catch her by surprise and now she’s trying to get her footing back.I don’t rise to the bait, though.Not with words.
Instead, I grab the handle of the cane and jerk, pulling the hidden blade out of the body of the walking stick and swishing it quickly through the air.Once.Twice.When it stops, the tip of the steel is at the base of her neck.
“Fashion statement,” I growl.
Her eyes move from the blade at her throat to my own, shocked and almost laughing, and before I can say anything else she’s moving, quick as a cat and twice as sharp.A butterfly knife appears in her hand and snaps open, then whirs through the air to clash with my own blade and toss it away from her.
“What is this, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?Because you’re no Dorian Gray,” she murmurs.“It’s not about the size of the sword, Lucien.It’s how you use it that matters.”She flips her butterfly knife closed again, exaggerating the movement, and tosses me what can only be called a smirk.
I’m about to answer when my phone rings, and when I see Daniel’s name, I take the call.Some things are more important than putting Brooks in her place.
“Boss,” he says quietly.
