Inked Destiny (9 page)

“Ask that one more time and I’m not going to be responsible for what happens next.” There was a distinct growl in his voice.

It chased away the doubt. “I need to get the drawings to Detective Ordoñes.”

“I’ll do it while you draw the rest of it.”

“You could pass them off to the captain instead of going back to Oakland. He’s on this side of the bay. I could call ahead.”

“Works for me.” He gave her another upside-down kiss then straightened.

She tore a sheet from her tablet and wrote down the address of a house she hadn’t entered in years, though once she’d called it home. After taking Cathal’s offered cellphone, she punched in the captain’s number.

“Chevenier,” he answered.

“Cathal’s bringing the drawings over now. You can hand them off to Ordoñes.”

“Bring them yourself. I want you to stay here for a while.”

Oh yeah, that’d go over well with the captain’s wife. The results of the paternity test Laura had insisted on all those years ago hadn’t diminished the animosity. If anything, it’d increased it, because the captain refused to let it be known that he didn’t have a bastard child after all.

“I’m good where I am.” The traitorous part of her that still believed reconciliation was possible added, “But I appreciate the offer.”

“Etaín—”

“Captain—”

“He was giving you CPR when I came to,” Cathal said from above her, sidetracking her, stalling out an argument that was sure to come around to her choice of men and the captain’s lack of approval.

“I guess I owe you thanks, for what you did at the hospital.” She cringed at how that came out but forged ahead. “A lot has happened today. I just want to curl up on the couch and chill. Is it okay if Cathal brings the drawings over? I’m not sure they’ll be useful, Kelvin was outside behind the bar, but I figure Ordoñes still wants them as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get them to him.”

“Thanks, Captain.”

There was a long silence. Her pain. His. It was there, shimmering between them, constricting her throat and turning her fingers white as they tightened on the phone and she fought against speaking again just to call him Dad.

He broke first. “You need to take a step away from your current situation, Etaín, so you can see it more clearly. Stay with Parker if you don’t want to stay here, or better yet, get out of the city for a while.”

She nearly laughed but she was afraid it’d sound hysterical rather than amused. Knowing the captain, he’d have her locked up for her own good if she started talking about magic and Elves and the gift she was losing control of.

“You’ve made your point. I’m hanging up now.”

She handed the phone to Cathal, following it by gathering up the sketches and rolling them, using a rubber band to keep them that way. She rose to her feet and Cathal did the same behind her, his arms going around her waist, holding her to his body.

Wonderful lips found her neck, making pleasure shiver through her with soft kisses and small, sucking bites. “Think about me while I’m off being your errand boy?”

She tilted her head to give him better access. “Errand boy? I’ve got you starring in the role of well-hung cabana boy.”

Heat coiled in her belly as she remembered the last time she’d been here, and just what he’d done to and for her during a late night session in the hot tub. Her nipples went hard and tight, ache spreading outward from those center points of desire when he pulled her shirt from the waistband of her jeans then pushed beneath it, firm possessive hands stroking her abdomen before moving upward, forcing her bra ahead of them so he could cup naked flesh.

She needed this. She wanted to lose herself in him, in what
they’d found together despite the reason for his first seeking her out.

She moaned and felt his smile against her neck. “I think I can do cabana boy to your sex goddess.”

“Sex goddess. I like the sound of that. Bring on the worshipers.”

That gained her the sharp, quick feel of teeth. “One worshiper, Etaín.”

“At the risk of ruining the mood…”

“Don’t say his name.”

“We’re still pretending we’re a normal couple?”

Seven

C
athal grimaced at the irony of the pretense a short while later as he handed the drawings to Etaín’s father, knowing he’d pay a visit to his own before returning home.

“She should see a doctor to make sure there’s no damage,” the captain said, both hands on the rolled sketches, as if keeping them there was necessary to his self-control.

“I’ll mention it to her.” And then, because he knew the estrangement hurt her, and her involvement with him only added to it he said, “I’m not my father or uncle.”

“You made my daughter an accessory to murder.”

It would always come back to that, though he wasn’t foolish enough to respond and incriminate himself, his family, or her.

“Good night,” he said, turning away.

“If you really love her, you’d get out of her life and stay out of it.”

“That’s not possible.” He didn’t slow or look back, and in his car, he called ahead, to let his father know he intended to visit.

When he arrived, they went to his father’s office, the only place in the house where his father would speak freely.

“What brings you here? I’m surprised you’re not with Etaín.” His father poured himself a drink. Cathal declined the silent offer of one.

“She’s at my place. You’ve heard about what happened in Oakland?”

“Hard not to. It’s the only thing on the news.”

“There was a survivor.”

“Dead now, according to the news.”

“I was in the ICU when it happened.”

“The cops asked for Etaín’s help?”

“Yes. I dropped the sketches off at her father’s place a few minutes ago.”

“Who’d have thought my son would be making nice with Captain Chevenier. We go back a ways, he and I. When he was still a green cop he thought he’d make his bones by catching me in a sting operation. It didn’t go well for him, though I’ve got no hard feelings toward him, neither does your uncle.”

Cathal felt sure the same couldn’t be said for Etaín’s father. “You know anything the cops don’t about the hit in Oakland?”

“That my son, now interested in joining the family business asking? Or my son, who’s involved with a cop’s daughter?”

“Etaín knew some of the people who got killed. She intends to ask questions, to do what she can to find answers.”

“Could be dangerous to her health.”

“Any more dangerous than getting involved with the Dunnes?”

His father shrugged.

Cathal pressed, “You know anything about the bar invasion, Dad?”

His father took a long drink from the glass in his hand, finally saying, “Drugs would be my guess. I can’t say more than that, Cathal.”

Can’t
, or
won’t
. Gut-sick and unable to stop himself, he asked, “Are you involved in what went down?”

His father’s eyebrows lifted. “No. I’ll even swear it if that’ll make you feel better.”

Cathal believed him. “One other thing, Dad, I’m going to marry her.”

“I figured that might be in the cards. What about Eamon? I could have him taken out of the picture, permanently. Call it a wedding gift.”

The offer chilled him, but not in the way it once would have. It’d be his father who ended up dead if he tried it, maybe his uncle as well.

“Stay out of it. The same way I stay out of your affairs.”

He meant it literally, felt the anger rise on behalf of his mother, though for all he knew, she turned a blind eye to the existence of her husband’s mistresses, women who came and went and didn’t enjoy the same wealth or status she did.

His father lifted his glass in silent acknowledgement of the threat. Cathal rose. “I’ll see myself out.”

“No.” His father set the drink down and accompanied Cathal to the door, surprising him by saying, “I’ll make some inquiries. I’ve got a vested interest now, in keeping the mother of my future grandchildren from getting hurt.”

A quick hug followed, and then he went home, walking in to find Etaín stretched out on the couch, vulnerable in sleep and stirring feelings of protectiveness as well as possessiveness, the depth of which he wouldn’t have thought possible days ago.

He lifted her into his arms, catching sight of the drawing of a green Dragon rising from a dark blue lake, and smiling, until thoughts of one fantasy creature led to another. Elf. He forced it away, along with his fears for the future.

Etaín woke as he placed her on the bed, her eyes going from slumberous to dark molten pools of desire as he slowly unbuttoned her shirt, parting it, hands moving next to the front clasp of her bra.

“You’re overdressed for a cabana boy.”

He opened the bra, pushing it away to reveal hardened nipples. “Any decent cabana boy will tell you the best tips come from seeing to other’s needs first.”

He leaned down, licking the tight, rosy peak as he undid the front of her jeans.

Her hips lifted. He turned it into an invitation rather than a silent demand, a torment by sliding his hand beneath the waistband of panties meant to drive a man to his knees, wispy pieces of material that begged to be stripped away by hands or teeth.

She was wet for him. “Were you dreaming about me?” he asked, sucking her nipple into his mouth, his fingers stroking the underside of her clit, circling the tiny head.

“Maybe.”

He punished her with a bite, followed by the rub of his tongue over her nipple, hiding his smile because she never ceased to challenge him, to intoxicate him with her provocative nature. “Not a good enough answer.”

She laughed. “It’s the only one you’ll get unless you persuade me otherwise.”

Her hands went to her jeans with the intention of pushing them lower, baring herself to him. He stopped his ministrations to her clit, drawing a moan of protest and then a small purr of approval when he captured her wrists, pinning them to the mattress above her head and holding them there with one hand.

Tonight he wanted something different from her, needed it. He stroked his tongue over her nipple, aware of the way her heart raced and her belly quivered where his hand rested, for a second time sliding beneath her waistband and eliciting a cry from her with the capture of her clit, with the filling of her channel.

He could spend hours touching her, looking at her, being enthralled and intoxicated. It would only get worse when she made the change from human into…

He blocked the thought, wanting to concentrate only on the
present. On this, maintaining the pretense they were a normal couple.

Lifting his head, he studied the nipple, turned on by the sight of it glistening, wet from his mouth, love abraded from his sucking.

“The other one wants the same attention,” she said. “A good cabana boy would know that.”

“A good cabana boy makes sure he’s done a thorough job before moving on.”

“So I’m a job to you?”

“More like an obsession.” He kissed his way to her other breast, using the change of angle to fuck his fingers deep into her slit, to rub his palm over her engorged clit.

Her breath caught. Then caught again. Her sheath clamped down on him in demand. Her moans were praise and payment enough. Her whispered, “I want your cock inside me,” very nearly derailed the slow pursuit of pleasure.

She liked it hard and fast and rough, probably because touching a lover had always posed a danger, before him. She could touch him with impunity, but at the moment he prevented that touch, knowing how quickly the feel of her hands on him stripped him of civility and reason.

“Promise to be good and I’ll take off the jeans,” he said.

“Define
good
.”

“Hands above your head, or clenching the bedding, not on me.”

“And if I cheat?”

“Don’t. That’ll be a game for another night, Etaín.”

“Mmmm, that sounds like a threat of punishment. Are we talking spankings? A belt? How kinky can we get?”

He bit her nipple because her question reminded him that he shared her with another man. Because with her teasing words she’d flooded his mind with dark fantasies and unbridled curiosity.

He should know better. But then he’d already admitted that when it came to her, he was a slow learner.

“Do you want the jeans off?”

“I’ll be good. Under protest. But it’s your loss.”

“You’ll make it up to me.”

He released her hands, straightening to look down at her. Clothed, with only her breasts bared, she was still a wanton temptress.

He shed his shirt. Watched her eyes fill with heat and nearly groaned as her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

He undid his pants, freeing his cock from the torment of confinement. There was no pretending he’d be able to hold out for much longer.

“Is this cheating?” she asked, hands going to her breasts, fingers toying with darkened nipples.

Fuck! She was trying to kill him.

He pushed his pants off his hips to drop to the floor, hand circling his cock, sliding up and down on his shaft. “I’ll give you a pass.”

Her smile mesmerized him. It beckoned to him, demanding the press of lips. Hell, her whole body did.