“You thought those wee toys would hold me?” His thumb traces my jaw. “After what you did to my tea?”
My thighs press together on reflex, a treacherous heat blooming in my core.
“Did you know I dedicated years of my life building up an immunity to many a drug?”
Oh, God. Of course he did. When did he wake up? How long was he waiting? Why didn’t he just leave?
I’ve a long memory, Lexie,” he speaks it like a promise, his hand shifting just slightly, his fingers tangling in my hair. “I won’t forget your betrayal.”
He pulls me closer into the darkness of the hall.
“I didn’t?—”
“How long until the police arrive?” he snarls.
A sickening certainty jolts through me. If he doesn’t believe me, my life as a simple florist ended the moment I turned that key.
CHAPTER 6
Liam
“Ididn’t go to the police.”
The words leave her lips in a breathless rush, but I am not ready to believe them. Not yet.
I tighten my grip on her waist and give her hair a sharp warning tug—enough to tilt her head back and bare the long, pale column of her throat. Fragile thing, her throat. A single squeeze could crush it. A single kiss could bruise it.
My cock will ruin it.
“Who did you see?”
My mind cycles through variables like a grand master over a chessboard. If she went to the cops, which precinct? I have O’Malley in the 12th and Hannon in the 19th. If she went to the Feds, it’s a deeper mess.
I run through the lawyers on retainer—Goldman for the clean work, Vance for the dirty. I calculate how long it would take to sanitize the apartment, erase the trace of my blood from her floorboards, and make Elexia Carter disappear if she’s become a liability.
No. Not disappear like that. I intend to keep her very close.
Her pulse flutters wildly beneath my thumb. She’s terrified. Good. Fear makes people honest.
“I…I saw my grandmother,” she stammers.
I pause. The calculations halt. Grandmother?
I ease my hold on her hair, shifting my hand to her throat—loose, not choking, but a reminder of my control.
“Explain.” My mouth brushes her ear.
“I was scared,” she whispers. “I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid the police wouldn’t protect me. From you.”
I inhale her scent, vanilla, rain, fear, and track the rhythm of her heart. It is fast, erratic, but steady in its truth. I’ve spent a lifetime separating truth from deceit in pub backrooms and corporate boardrooms.
She didn’t run to the law. She didn’t run to my enemies. She ran to an old woman.
Intrigue replaces rage. “Why your grandmother?”
“She’s really smart,” Elexia breathes. “And I trust her more than anyone. And… I have no one else.”
“And what did she say?” I caress her neck, savoring her shiver.
