Lady Killer (Tangled Desires Book 2) (3 page)

He sleeps with anything with two legs and a snatch. Scratch that, they probably don’t even have to have two legs. Rumor is he keeps a list of the women he’s fucked. More importantly, I’m the reason his career is over, the reason he almost lost his life. And I’m running from a man who won’t stop searching for me until I’m dead. All good reasons for why I can’t even consider sleeping with him.

“Earth to Gem. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I must have zoned out completely. He’s staring at me like he’s been waiting ages for an answer. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, I have somewhere to be.”

“Are you driving?”

“N-no.” Why won’t he take no for an answer?

“Well, we’ll walk you then.” Apparently, I’m going to have to deal with Tom Hadley and his dog a little while longer, and I’m not as upset by the idea as I’d like to be.

“Fine.” I exhale, and roll my gaze to the roof. “Let me finish locking up.”

It takes another ten minutes to go over everything again, and when I finally lock the front door behind me he’s holding a stick that Lucky is trying to rip from his hand. God, I wish I wasn’t so cynical. He’s such a pretty picture. So normal and perfect. Then he turns on that smile which makes women rip off their panties and throw them at him, and the urge to join them is almost impossible to ignore. It must be a condition of having a vagina. Some kind of primal reaction that makes every girl combust in his presence.

“So where are we headed?” he tosses the lump of wood back in the garden and calls Lucky to heel.

“Um.” I’m having trouble remembering what I said to him to get him to leave me alone, not that it worked.

“You were supposed to be somewhere.”

“Oh, right.” I stride down the drive and onto the street. “I lied. I was trying to get you to leave me alone.”

“So is it men you don’t like, or people in general?” He falls into step, Lucky trailing beside him.

“People in general. No, mostly men.” I sneak a side glance. “Especially ones who think they’re sex on toast and parade around without shirts, all look at me, I’m so sexy, I don’t even have to try.”

“You think I’m sexy?” He chuckles. “You’re afraid you’re not going to be able to ignore the urge to jump me? Is that why you keep repeating how uninterested you are?”

There’s that. It would be so easy to throw him down on the pavement and… Well, not easy. He’s a big guy, lots of strength and stamina. I doubt I could take him to his knees, let alone get him flat on his back. Although I bet he’s talented on his knees. “That’s not what I meant.” I vigorously shake the image out of my head. “Would it hurt you to put a shirt on?”

He grunts while he pulls out the sleeveless shirt dangling from his ass pocket and drags it over his head. “Better?”

Not fucking really. Nothing like outlining and defining every damn inch of muscle. I shove the pussy tingling attraction down, mentally squish it with my heel. Then take an imaginary hammer to it to make sure it stays buried backwoods serial killer style.

With a quick shrug, I move ahead of him. Better him staring at my ass than me staring at his. Easier to concentrate that way. “Do you normally harass women who want to be left alone?”

“No.”

“But you’re making an exception with me, because?”

“Normally it’s the other way around. You’re intriguing.”

His answer surprises me so much I turn around, continuing to walk backwards while I stare at his face. He’s unguarded, honest.

“Why is that?”

“You’re going to trip and hurt yourself,” he cautions.

“Answer the question.”

“You don’t want to screw me.” He chuckles. “That’s rare. It makes you intriguing. Utterly fucking fascinating.”

He’s wrong of course. It’s just I have some self-respect and a whole bunch of reasons to keep his cock out of my box. “Why is that?”

He raises and drops his shoulders, as though whatever that deep thought which shows in his gaze is nothing. “My dick’s out of commission. You’re safe.”

What the freaking hell? Who says shit like that to a complete stranger? “Sexually transmitted disease, or just an erectile problem?” I snigger to hide how nervous his frankness makes me, knowing I can’t ever be this honest with anyone, especially him. Telling him, ‘By the way I almost got you killed’ would probably go down like a ton of bricks.

“Aren’t you an everyday comedian?” His lip curls up on one side, his gaze full of amusement. Does this man ever take time off from looking so goddamn sexy?

I’m so distracted, I don’t notice the broken concrete that takes my feet out from under me, but I don’t land on my ass. No, he lunges forward, his arm going around my waist to keep me from falling and instead of the hard cement under my ass I’m pressed up against the equally solid wall of his chest. His face is close to mine, his lips tweaking to keep from laughing as he sets my feet under me. The ground isn’t solid beneath me with his gaze trapping mine. My heart is galloping, and I’m not sure if it’s trying to escape my body or hoping he’ll hear the effect he’s having on me.

With a slow swipe of his hand, he drags a few strands of hair from my face and between his fingers. “Always so nosey? Or only with people you’re not interested in?”

“So which is it?” I whisper. Damn my stupid curiosity. I really want to know what could take the killer out of him.
Please say both. Please tell me it’s fallen off and you’re bound to a life of celibacy. Whatever you do, don’t tell me it’s because you’re not that guy anymore. Give me a reason to be disgusted by you.

“I don’t think so. You want an answer, you’re going to have to give one.” He unwinds his arm from around me and steps back much too fast.

I’m breathing again. Hadn’t realized I’d stopped at some point. My voice comes out shaky. “What was the question?”

“What brings you to Reverence?” His shoulder brushes mine as we turn onto the main street, and a zap of something leaves me tingling. It would be so easy to brush up against him like a cat and see if that static charge could turn into something far more dangerous.

“Needed a change of pace, I suppose.” It’s a formulaic answer at best. One I’ve used in every port of call.

“You’re a city girl gone rogue then?” He grins, calling Lucky to sit and pulling her lead from his pocket to tie her to a pole. “I hate to tie her up,” he explains. “She’d stay without it, but people get a little jumpy about her size.”

Gripping my elbow, he guides me in the door of this tiny street corner diner. “They have the best chocolate pecan pie here.”

“That sounds… delightful.”

I must make a face because his gaze dances over me while he pulls out his wallet, his back to the register. “Let me guess. You don’t like pecans?”

“Actually, I don’t like chocolate.”

I swear the girl behind the counter swallows her tongue as she whips her stare from his ass to my face. As if I’ve blasphemed against the most holy of holy.

“You’re one weird chick. It’s fucking chocolate.” He furrows his brow. “Please don’t tell me you hate coffee.”

I raise one shoulder and offer an apologetic smile. “I’d rather a giant, thick strawberry shake than coffee any day.”

“Fine. What the lady wants, the lady gets.” He turns to order, and I watch the girl blush under his gaze. He isn’t even flirting with her, but I can practically see the gears turning in her head. When he’s finished she nods, and we make our way over to a tiny wooden table at the back where the air’s a little cooler than right in front of the large front windows.

“So it’s your turn to answer.” I slip into the seat opposite him. “That girl, if I’m not mistaken, is going to hand you her number when she brings over our drinks.”

“Well I guess she’ll be disappointed then.” He stretches out, his long legs on either side of mine. The warmth of him buzzes along my skin. “As for you, nosey, nothing’s broken, or damaged in any way.”

He’s staring into me, not just my eyes, but into my soul, making me quiver. A thrill of sensation uncurls inside me. It feels really dirty, but in a good way. If this is what having his gaze on me is like, I can’t even imagine… and I probably shouldn’t. I squirm in my seat, clench my thighs together and hope he doesn’t realize how he affects me. There is no chance this can go any further.

I fiddle with the shaker, tapping salt out on the tablecloth like snow, then spreading it around with my fingers. Anything to escape being seen, really noticed. “T-that’s good.”

As predicted, the girl slides a folded napkin to him along with his pie, before placing his coffee and my shake on the table between us.

“Aren’t you going to look at it?” I stir my straw through the thick pink sludge. Despite what he’s been saying about not trying to get in my pants, I can’t believe he’d ignore the girl who’s practically throwing herself at him.

“What? Do you want me to?” Picking up his fork, he starts dissecting the slice of pie in front of him. It’s not that pecan chocolate thing he was going on about, but some apple mixture, in a sugary crust. “Will it make you feel better about enjoying being here with me? Someone burned you bad, didn’t they?”

It hits me that he’s right. I am enjoying this stupid conversation. In one short afternoon, he’s learned more about me than anyone has since I left Santiago. I can’t trust anyone. Not even the guy I once thought could save me. Shifting in my seat, I can’t contain the tapping of my foot.

“Struck a nerve, did I?” He grins.

Torn between sticking around and flying out the door as fast as my feet will take me, I cringe at how much he seems to see. He was always oblivious. He doesn’t even know who I am, and yet I’m drawn to him. Then, the night my life became a game of hide and seek, and now, when I should be keeping my distance from anyone who could tie me to that life.

Well, I’m not going to bring Santiago to Tom’s doorstep. Not again. I shove away from the table a little too roughly. “Thanks for the shake.”

“You haven’t even touched it.” He’s getting out of his chair, but I don’t want him to follow me. I don’t want him to ask any more questions.

So I bolt. Because I’m good at it. Because I’ve been doing it for such a long time. I don’t think I’d even know how to stay still if the world stopped spinning on its axis. I hear him calling my name as I hurry down the street. I’m going to stay in Reverence as long as it takes to refill my cash supplies and then I’ll leave. I’ll find somewhere else to hunker down for a while. Somewhere Tom Hadley is not. In the meantime, I can ignore him. I’m not going to let him cause me to wish for things that can’t be.

Tom

Chelsea’s car is in the driveway when I get back to the house. I love the girl like I love my sister, Claire, but seeing the Mini in my driveway weighs on me. For one hour this afternoon I’d almost forgotten that my life is in the shitter. That surprises me. It’s like I didn’t even realize how much I was enjoying niggling at Gem’s composure.

I trudge up the driveway, Lucky at my heels until I shoo her into the backyard. The smell of one of the boys grilling scents the air and makes my stomach growl, even though I ate not long ago.

Lucky skulks to the back of the yard between the trees and flops down, her sides heaving. Gem had this calmness about her when she was dealing with Lucky. Sometimes, I swear even the vet is wary of her, being so big and all, but not Gem. There’s a quiet resilience to her. Even if she hates men. Not that I think she actually hates men. It’s probably more of a
man
thing. The one who burned her. I wonder what he was like, that guy who actually managed to gain her interest. Probably a real asshole, if the way she was with me is any indication. It seems like it would take a lot to frighten her, and when she piss-bolted out of the diner she definitely had that look of fear in her eyes. Pretty eyes they were, too, ones that had my cock stirring despite my intentions to keep things on a friendly level.

Eyes that remind me of the girl who stood on the side of the road while I was mowed down in my prime. It brings back the bitterness I try so hard to put behind me and leaves a strange feeling in my gut. I don’t want to revisit that time and deal with the regret that comes with it.

Besides, she isn’t my problem. I have enough of my own shit to deal with, so I shake it off as I make my way up the wooden steps, skipping over the creaky third plank on my way to where Chelsea sits with Claire and Razer around the picnic table. Mace, the older brother everyone thought was my twin at one point, pours beer over fish he’s got on the grill, making it sizzle and pop loudly while a billow of steam rises in the air. “About time you got home, wanker.”

He’s taken to calling me wanker since the pregnancy test debacle, now that he’s convinced the chances of me having sex anytime in the near future are nil. I don’t think he gets that, though. I mean having a baby isn’t necessarily a reason to give up my sex life, but it’s sure as hell a wake-up call. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t choose to be having a baby with a stranger. I’d want to settle down and do it right. Like my parents. Like Claire and Razer will do when they’re ready. “At least I could get some if I wanted, dickhead. I have options. How’s Mrs. Palmer?”

Mace snorts. “You think you’re the only one who’s got game, little brother?”

“No.” I catch the beer Razer tosses me, and the lid twists off in my palm with a satisfying hiss. “I’m saying I’ve never seen you with a woman in your entire life. I doubt you even know how to find the clitoris.”

“Knock it off, you two,” Razer rumbles. “There are women present.”

Mace and I turn at the same time, our reply in sync. “Shut up, asshole.”

Little Bit’s ignoring us. She’s had years of practice, but Chelsea’s cheeks are tinted pink, and I wonder if somehow we’ve finally managed to embarrass her. Then she starts waving her hand at her face. It must be the heat.

Of course we don’t mean it. Razer’s our brother in every non-literal sense of the word, except for when it comes to our sister. Then he’s going to be our brother-in-law. We’re used to it now, and none of us would have it any other way. Claire laughs, finally dragging her attention away from the notebook she takes everywhere since Razer asked her to marry him. “You’re all a bunch of idiots.”

I crash down next to Chelsea, and bump her shoulder. “The heat getting to you?”

“A little.” She smiles. She looks exhausted, and her cheeks are super rosy, like she’s gotten too much sun, but they weren’t like that when I got here. “Mind if we hang out tonight? I don’t have it in me to go anywhere.”

“Yeah.” I swig at my beer then place it on the table. I’m quite fucking content with that idea. I know I need to find my pee-stick Cinderella, but I’m still enjoying the afterglow of how Gem made me manage to forget for a little while. And not only the becoming a dad bit, but the whole objectification that comes with being around women who aren’t practically my family. Their expectations, and the way they stare at me like I’m a chunk of steak. I almost wish I could remember her from back then, but then she didn’t seem to like the guy I used to be. And the guy I am now is less than he was.

On second thought, maybe I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to know how the guy I am now—the ex-fighter who’ll never be on top—measures up to the guy I was, before the accident stole my future. If it was an accident. There was some conjecture by the police over the lack of skid marks, and the stolen car they found abandoned a couple blocks away, but they never managed to tie the vehicle to whoever it was that hit me. What bothers me most is that I’ll never know why. I’ll always wonder what I did, and who I pissed off.

I push the thought down. There’s no point in reminiscing, and I’d rather contemplate the way Gem made me feel grounded and at peace with my life while I was with her. A feeling I’ve gotten used to living without over the past three years, since my career came to an abrupt end. It’s crazy, but for a short period of time this afternoon, I didn’t even remember the fact that she’s part of my past. I don’t want to ruin that. Not this evening.

“I’m going to steal her first,” Claire says. “I want a second opinion on the wedding invitations.”

“Why can’t you get Razer to do that?” I lean forward, my elbows on the table. I’m ribbing her. Razer’s with her every step of the way, but Little Bit’s something of an event dictator.

“I need a girl’s opinion.”

“Oh come on, Chelsea’s not a girl.” I dig her in the ribs. “Isn’t that right?”

“Not where you’re concerned.” She filches Claire’s notebook from under her hand. “Of course I want to help. I’m your maid of honor.”

While Claire goes inside to get the salad, Mace chucks the fish onto a platter and brings it to the table before thumping down on the other side of Chelsea. “Feeling any better, Hells Bells?”

“A bit,” she says, not lifting her attention from the notebook and scooting over closer to me.

Mace uses his fingers to tear away a bit of the fish, and holds it in front of her face. “Going to try my excellent cooking?”

She wrinkles her nose, pushing his hand away. “It stinks. Not as bad as you, though. You smell worse than the freaking fish.”

“Is that right?” He waves the morsel in her face again.

“It’s putrid.” She makes a gagging noise.

“I think you need a better whiff.” He grins, tossing the fish on the grass where Lucky gobbles it up, before grabbing Chelsea and pulling her closer, trying to shove her face into his armpit.

“You’re disgusting. Get off me.” She pushes at him, while he continues to wrestle with her, until she gets up and stalks after Claire. Turning at the door she yells at him, “When are you going to grow the fuck up?”

He shrugs and beams a beer cap at her, but she dodges inside, leaving him grinning.

“So you two are getting along at the moment then?” Razer snorts.

“Something like that.” Mace taps his fingers on the table and then turns to me. “So no luck on pee stick Cindy yet?”

“Obviously, dick head.” I grimace, focusing my attention on peeling the label off the beer bottle because I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m starting to wonder if this wasn’t some badly thought out practical joke.”

“Could be an attempt at blackmail,” Razer says. “Anyone tried anything like this before?”

“Nope.”

Claire and Chelsea come back with the salad and a couple bottles of wine, and pretty soon the conversation moves onto how awesome dinner is and the engagement party that’s a few weeks away.

***

Monday morning should fucking suck. It usually does. That’s why people are always filling my Facebook feed with pictures of coffee mugs and cats. I totally get it. Sundays should last forever, especially now that the heat wave has broken with a cool southerly breeze. But I can’t help being a little buoyed by the idea that Gem might come in today. I flip on all the lights in the gym, and unlock the glass door, saying hello to the early morning crew. They’re dedicated and there are a few good fighters among them. Mostly though, they’re the guys who work security gigs around here. Gem’s not among them, not that I thought she would be, but I kind of hoped. I barely got to scratch the surface with her, and it’s only added to my itching curiosity.

She arrives shortly after lunch, and I give her space, though I really want to pick up our conversation from Saturday. But it’s clear from the way she tackles a big bag she’s not here for banter. The tension rolls from her shoulders with each solid punch. Her face flushes, her hair comes undone, as she gives it all.

Mace, who’s finished up a training session, sidles up beside me as I watch her. “I see you, little brother. You’re eye-fucking that girl.”

“Am not,” I grumble. It must be damn obvious that I’m more interested in her than anything else going on in the gym.

“Are fucking too, and it’s not a good idea.”

“What would you know?” I glare at him. As much as I’m thankful to have him back in town, even under my roof, sometimes I want to thump him. Especially when he’s telling me something I already know. Gem’s untouchable, and even if I wasn’t in the predicament I’m in, she still wouldn’t be interested.

“I know you’ve got big enough issues as it is, dickhead. We don’t need another of your swimmers catching on, now, do we?”

“It’s not like that. She’s…different. I don’t want to fuck her.”

“Sure you do. Everyone in the room can see you getting hard for that girl. Including her.”

“Gem’s not interested. We’re just…” I adjust my stance, trying to make it less obvious that Mace is right. I
am
getting hard watching her get sweaty and flushed from her workout. Imagining her that way for an entirely different reason.

But we’re not anything. She hasn’t even said a word to me since she walked into the gym. Just methodically went about smashing the shit out of that bag. “She’s new in town. She needs a friend.”

“There are plenty of guys here who could be her friend. It doesn’t need to be you. Any one of these guys would happily take a dive into her panties.”

“Shut the fuck up, before I make you.” I growl at him, pissed that he’s talking about her like that.

“Like you could, dickhead.” He grins. “I might go meet this girl who needs a friend. Maybe I’ll take the fall for you, brother.”

I know he’s winding me up, but that doesn’t stop me from balling up my fists for that snide remark. I don’t care that there’s something going on with him. Well, a lot of things actually, that he’s not keen to share. Not when he’s talking about trying something on the girl who’s been on my mind all weekend.

Sauntering up to her, he says something that makes her stop what she’s doing and laugh. He’s smooth. I’ll give him that. I wait for her to rip him a new one, but she doesn’t. Her fists on her hips, she actually gives him the time of day, and it pisses me off. I have the urge to go over there and tell him to get lost. Then she glances over at me, and bites her lip, and I know he hasn’t got a chance, so instead of acting like an asshole, I make my way around the gym, talking to the guys.

Mace stalks back across the room, catching my attention. His expression is almost thunderous. “Take my advice and stay the fuck away from that one.” He shakes his head as he gets to me, clapping me on the back and leaving his hand there. “She’s flaky as fuck, Tommy boy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I can usually tell the girls who are crazy, or superficial. The ones that are bound to be a good time gone wrong, or just a good time, but that’s not the vibe I get from Gem. If anything I think she’s on par with my sister and Chelsea for being real.

“Can’t you see the baggage?” He gestures in a sweeping motion that encompasses where she’s still working the bag. “It’s hanging off every move she makes, every word she says. Besides, she’s a liar. Couldn’t hit the truth with a baseball bat.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Mace gets this serious look in his eyes, like he’s about to impart some hard earned wisdom. “Trust me, bro. When a girl can’t even get her own name straight, you’re best off staying far the fuck away. Hire a hooker. Use a fucking rubber. There are better, less complicated ways of getting your rocks off.” Then he stalks out, and I don’t know what the hell to think. Who the heck is this girl? And what on earth happened to turn my brother into such a cynical bastard?

***

When she finally leaves the floor, I give her time to shower and change before I catch her leaving the girl’s locker room. The more I think about it, the more it riles me that she might have lied to me. Possibly. Mace is usually on the money when it comes to judging a person’s character, but I’m not so sure his view isn’t colored by his own problems at the moment, and I didn’t get a flaky vibe from her. Hell, I’ve talked to her more than he has. But nobody knows her. I asked around. I just don’t know what to think. Grabbing her, I pull her into the alcove at the end of the hallway in front of the supply closet. “What’s your name?”