I nod, and switch off my phone before grabbing my carry-on leather case. I hand the clerk at the desk my boarding pass, and she smiles at me. Perfectly styled blonde hair, expertly applied makeup, and a fitted uniform highlighting her slight curves. She is exactly my type, and I find I’m no longer interested. The more cultivated their exterior, the more my mind tries to assure me they are hiding.
“Thank you for traveling with us today, Mr. Alderidge. Please be sure to let the team know if there’s anything we can do for you.”
I give her a sour expression before retrieving my documentation and striding down the short bridge and onto the plane. A guy in a similar uniform greets me and sees me to my seat like I can’t possibly find it myself.
“Take off is in thirty minutes. Would you like a drink?”
“Sure, sparkling water.”
He nods and retrieves a cold bottle and a glass with ice before he bustles off to look after the next passenger. I gaze out at the dark sky. I’m going to arrive in the middle of the night, which isn’t my preference, but I couldn’t stand another minute in this city.
I pull out my personal phone and shoot off a text.
Be home this evening. I’ll be late, so don’t wait up. I’ll let myself in.
I pull out my work phone as I sip the water and tie up a few loose ends before powering it off. I have an image of me dropping it from thirty thousand feet and it imploding on the ground, much like my professional life has.
Five hours later, I step out of the taxi and stride toward the house with only the moonlight illuminating the way. I dig into my pants pocket and pull out my key. Wait. Fuck, wrong key. That’s for my apartment in L.A.Damn it.
I sigh and make my way around the side of the main house. The keypad for the gate glows blue, but when I type in the code, it turns red. That’s the correct number—I set it myself. I try again. Nope. She must have changed it. I tilt my head back and growl at the sky. Looks like I’m scaling the wall this evening. I throw my small suitcase and carry-on over the fence. They land with a thud. I take a few steps back to get momentum and charge at the gate. My foot hits the wall, propelling me upward, and I grip the top of the fence, launching myself over with ease. After collecting my bags, I amble through the garden, past the glowing pool, and stop at anunassuming-looking stone. I lift it, revealing a little key-coded compartment. This one turns green and the door springs open, revealing a key. At least that’s not changed.
I push the key into the door of the pool house, which is where I stay when I’m home. My grandmother deserves her privacy, and I’m not an easy guy to live with. The house is coated in darkness, but I know this property like the back of my hand. The door clicks closed behind me, and I stride deeper inside before my foot catches on something, making me stumble.
“What the fuck?” There was no furniture there the last time I was here. Has she been rearranging the house?
I carefully pick my way through the living room and open the master bedroom door.Bang.Fire blazes across the outside of my left shoulder, and I drop to the floor as dust crumbles onto my head.
“I will kill you,” a woman growls. Yeah, I got that loud and clear.
I get to my knees and raise my hands in the air. I can make out a slender frame trembling as she stands on the bed, with her feet planted wide apart and a gun pointed at me. A giant beast huffs in annoyance, before flopping down and rolling onto his back for a belly rub.
“Duke, what the fuck are you doing?” she squeaks.
Taking advantage of her distraction atmydog not attacking me, I snap to my feet and knock her shaking arm. The gun goes off again.Fucking hell.
I grip and twist her arm, digging my thumb into a pressure point. She drops the weapon and cries out as I wrestle her to the bed face down, with her hands pinned behind her back. She jerks up, trying to dislodge me. In response, I press my weight onto her and squeeze her thighs together with my own.
“No, I won’t return. I’d sooner die,” she snarls as she thrashes under me.
“Nobody is dying. But you are going to hurt yourself if you continue to fight me.”
“Fuck you,” she snarls, still wriggling under me. She can’t be taller than five foot three, and a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. But she fights like she’s twice that size.
I hold her down until she wears herself out a little. I shift to reach for the lamp. She takes advantage and crawls out from under me.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I mutter, abandoning the light. I flip her over and sit on her thighs while my hands grab her wrists and pin them to the bed. She jerks her head up, and her teeth dig into my bottom lip. Blood springs free as I jerk away. She’s a wildcat, and I’m a little hard.Fuck.Since when did I get turned on by psycho crazy chicks who shoot first and ask questions later? This is not the plan.
“Who are you?”
“Not who you are looking for. Let me go.”
Hmm. Meaning she is being looked for by someone. Might explain why she’s fighting so hard, but not why she’s in my bed with my dog. “Not the question I asked, wildcat.”
“Cleo.”
Lie. But I’ll let it go—for now. It’s something my gran and I have in common—the ability to ferret out an untruth.
The big light snaps on and my gran stands in the doorway in her nightgown. A familiar guy, Henry, stands behind her, wearing only his boxers. That’s something, at least.
