In His Shadow (Tangled Ivy Book 1) (22 page)

“You’re as addicted as I am,” Devon whispered, his hands moving from my arms to slip inside my unbuttoned coat. “You crave my touch the way I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste, how soft your skin is against mine, and how it feels when I’m inside you.”

The words eased my battered pride and I didn’t stop him when he undid the button of my jeans and lowered the zipper.

“The chase, the fight—it makes you damn near irresistible to me. And you want this—you want me—too much to care about your bruised ego,” Devon said, slipping his hand inside my jeans and underneath the silk panties I wore. “I’d wager you want me so much that you’d stand here on the street with me and let me finger you, wouldn’t you, darling.”

Words were beyond me now. His hand had insinuated itself between my thighs, his middle finger sliding between my folds to stroke me. I was wet and ready for him.

“There’s a girl,” he sighed. “Spread your legs, sweet Ivy.”

I couldn’t have disobeyed even if I’d wanted to, and when I opened farther to him, my reward was his finger slipping inside me. I clutched at the lapels of his coat, its voluminous folds shrouding our embrace.

“You’ll do what I say because this,” he slowly pumped his finger, sliding over my clit in smooth strokes, “is very, very good, isn’t it, Ivy.”

It wasn’t a question and I didn’t try to answer. I closed my eyes and concentrated on his touch and the sound of his low voice whispering in my ear. His touch was sure, knowing. We could have had
an audience of a hundred people and I wouldn’t have cared.

His hand moved faster, making my breath come in pants.

“Oh God,” I breathed. “Devon . . .”

He kissed his name from my mouth and I eagerly opened my lips, letting him deepen the kiss into a warm, slow slide of his tongue against mine.

His finger curved, pressing inside me, and I came apart. Devon swallowed my cries, moaning slightly as my body convulsed around his finger, still buried inside me. I turned away, gasping for air, and his mouth again settled by my ear.

“What you do to me,” he murmured. “I should leave you far, far behind, sweet Ivy.”

My knees were weak and I didn’t try to move away as he took his hand from my body and fastened my jeans. I leaned into him, his hands sliding underneath my shirt to cup my breasts, his palms a rough friction against my nipples.

Opening heavy-lidded eyes, I could just see beyond him to the darkened sidewalk and street. What few people had been around had mostly cleared, and my gaze settled on a shadow across the street. I watched as the figure stood very still, and I realized he was watching us.

Devon had slipped his hands from my shirt and was now fastening my coat, but I was still staring at the man across the street. Something about him looked familiar . . .

“Devon—” I began as a car drove by. The flash of headlights briefly illuminated the man’s face . . . and I screamed.

Faster than I would have believed possible, Devon had spun around, pushed me behind him, and drawn his gun.

But the man was gone.

I couldn’t breathe. Air inflated my lungs, but I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t possibly have— No. It was impossible.

“Ivy! Ivy, what’s wrong?”

I couldn’t feel my hands or feet, and I just couldn’t breathe. Devon’s arm was a steel band around me supporting me, his face anxious as he studied me.

“Talk to me,” he said evenly. “Breathe, Ivy. You’re all right. Just tell me what you saw.”

My lips were numb as I forced them to move.

“Jace.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

I
didn
’t remember the trip back to the apartment. I barely remembered
Devon helping me inside or sitting on the couch. I stared into space, my hands ice-cold, and tried to come to grips with Jace having found me. Devon disappeared into my bedroom, but I didn’t ask what he was doing. Instead, I grabbed my phone and hit speed dial, letting out a relieved breath when Grams picked up.

“Hi,” I said, suddenly realizing I had no good excuse for calling this late on a Saturday night. “I was just, um, thinking about you. How are you?”

“Oh, we’re fine, sweetie,” Grams said. “Your grandpa spent this afternoon chopping some firewood with the neighbor.” She went on, as I knew she would, telling me about all they’d done that day and how Grandpa had run to the store to get some more birdseed. “My birds just expect to be fed now when there’s snow on the ground,” she said, “even with the barn cats hanging around.”

“Um, have you heard from or seen . . . Jace around?” I asked.

“Not a peep,” she replied. “The police have some posters up at the QuikTrip and Kroger, but he hasn’t come by here.”

My eyes slid shut. Thank God. I couldn’t handle Jace doing something to my grandparents. Though they were in their seventies, I wouldn’t put anything past him.

“Now you’re coming home for Christmas, aren’t you?” Grams continued.

Oh no. Christmas. If Jace had followed me here, somehow, would he follow me home? No way was I leading trouble back to Grams and Grandpa.

“Um, actually, I’ve had something come up,” I said, improvising on the spot. “A friend asked me to travel with them for a few days, so I think I’m going to go.”

“Oh? Where are you going?”

I said the first thing that came to mind. “Florida.”

“That’ll be nice and warm down there,” Grams said. “We’ll miss you, but I think it’ll be good for you to get away, take a vacation. Is Logan going with you?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Well, just be careful,” she admonished. “Two girls alone isn’t very safe. Don’t go out at night.”

I smiled ruefully, wishing I didn’t have to lie to her. I’d be barricaded inside my apartment come Christmas. Even now, I was terrified to step foot outside my door.

“I will,” I promised. After another round of warnings and I-love-yous, I ended the call.

I stared at my phone. The urge to call Logan was strong. But it wouldn’t be fair to him. He was on vacation two states away. What could he do about Jace?

“What are you thinking?”

I looked up to see Devon staring down at me.

“
Of how much I want to call Logan,” I answered honestly.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “He’s always been there for me, been the one I turned to when I had no one else.”

“Because of Jace?”

I nodded.

Devon sat next to me on the couch. “I’ll protect you,” he said.

I grimaced. “You’re leaving, remember?”

“I’ll only be gone for a day. You’ll stay at my place while I’m gone.”

I glanced at him in surprise. “What?”

“I can’t leave you here, not with your stepbrother mucking about.”

That’s when I saw the suitcase behind him. “Did you . . . pack for me?”

“Yes. It’s time to go.”

A moment of clarity hit me then, the kind where you see a fraction of time as a turning point—a fork in the road. I could stay here, alone, and await whatever Jace was planning. Or I could go with Devon, a man who made me feel more alive than I ever had before, though he was dangerous and being with him took a toll on my physical and emotional well-being.

It was perhaps a little mortifying how quickly I chose.

“Okay,” I agreed.

Devon held out his hand and I took it.

We were outside Devon’s apartment door and he was unlocking it when the door across the hallway popped open.

“Hi, again!” Beau said cheerfully. “Looks like you found him.”

“Um, yeah,” I said, heat rising in my cheeks. Devon glanced at me, raising his brows in silent question.

“Good evening, Beau,” Devon said cordially. “I take it you’ve met Ivy?”

“Not formally,” Beau said, thrusting out a hand, which I shook.

“Beau is a salesman of sorts,” Devon said, his lips twisting slightly. “What’s the business this month, Beau?”

“Time-shares, my man,” Beau said with a grin. “I have a great place in the Bahamas that’s got your name written all over it.”

Devon laughed outright. “I’ll bet you do.” He ushered me into the apartment as Beau tried again.

“I can get you a great deal!” he called out.

“Good night, Beau,” Devon said, closing the door behind him. He leaned his back against it and looked at me.

“He’s . . . ah . . . interesting,” I offered.

“Beau is a used car salesman who sells everything except used cars,” Devon replied dryly. “Don’t ever buy anything from him. He will completely screw you over.”

I laughed. “Sounds like you speak from experience,” I teased.

He grimaced. “I prefer not to talk about it. And considering my reaction to our . . . transaction, I’m surprised he’d try to sell me anything again.”

I was, too.

“So you came looking for me last night?” he asked.

“You didn’t come to the hospital,” I said, deciding not to tell him I’d known he was there. “I-I wanted to see you. I hoped you’d want to see me, too.”

I couldn’t read the expression on his face as I laid bare my desire to be with him. I didn’t tell him how he’d been consuming my thoughts for days or how I felt lost without him.

Picking up my suitcase, Devon took it to the bedroom. Not sure what else to do, I followed.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked, breaking the nearly awkward silence. I glanced around again at the impersonal room. Comfortable and well appointed, yes, but that was all.

“A few months,” he replied, glancing at his watch. “You’ll be all right here alone?”

“Of course,” I said, patting my purse. “I’m packing heat, remember?”

“How could I forget?” he quipped, approaching me. Carefully removing my purse strap from my shoulder, he set it aside. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll be back Monday night. Keys are on the kitchen counter.”

“It might not have been Jace I saw,” I admitted. “Maybe it was just someone who looked like him.” I hoped that was true. It gave me a chill to think Jace might’ve tracked me so quickly.

“Maybe,” Devon said, his hands resting on my hips. “When does Logan return?”

The way he said Logan’s name gave me pause. There was a slight hint of disdain or maybe contempt, but so nearly indiscernible, I decided I must have imagined it.

“Tomorrow night. He has to work on Monday. I can go back home then.” I was amazed as it was that Devon wanted me to stay in his apartment. That seemed a line not normally crossed for him, and it was hard not to be pleased at this development, even if the cause for it was Jace.

“You’ll stay here until I return,” Devon said, his tone final.

My eyes widened. “Why? Once Logan’s home—”

“I really don’t want to hear his name anymore,” Devon interrupted with a sigh.

“But—”

His mouth landed on mine, cutting off my protest.

I forgot everything I was going to say and melted into him, my body molding to his. His hands moved to my rear, pulling me closer, and I could feel the hard length of his erection at the juncture of my thighs. His kiss was deep and slow, the soft brush of his tongue against mine making my toes curl.

“I have to go,” he murmured against my lips.

I made a mewling sound of protest as he unwound my arms from around his neck.

“Will it be dangerous?” I asked, gazing up at him. I was worried, even though I knew he didn’t want to hear it.

His smile was crooked. “No more so than usual.”

Not exactly comforting.

Devon pressed his lips to my forehead, then he was gone.

Somewhat at a loss, I glanced around the bedroom. My suitcase was sitting by the bed, dutifully waiting for me to unpack it, and yet I decided to explore.

The closet was a huge walk-in and Devon’s clothes were carefully arranged and grouped by type and color. It was incredibly precise and I remembered him telling me that he’d served in the military. I guessed old habits die hard.

I poked around more than was decent for a guest, but found nothing interesting. I thought maybe I’d run across the pendant Mr. Galler had given me, but it was nowhere to be found.

It was strange, being in Devon’s apartment without him. Yet, it made me feel closer to him. I fell asleep in his bed with the scent of him clinging to the pillow underneath my cheek.

My cell phone woke me Sunday morning and I blindly groped for it on the bedside table.

“Mmm ’lo?” I mumbled into the phone.

“Miss Mason?” The voice on the other end was businesslike and I pried open my eyes.

“Yes?”

“This is Special Agent Lane,” the man said. “We met at your work regarding the death of Mr. Galler?”

Okay, now I was wide-awake. I sat up, clutching the phone to my ear.

“I remember.”

“I’d like you to come meet with me, answer a few more questions.”

My palms were sweating now. “Um, okay.”

“Can you come this morning?”

“Sure. I-I’ll come as soon as I can,” I stammered.

“Thank you.” He gave me an address, which I scrambled to jot down, then he ended the
call.

I sat in panicked befuddlement, staring at the wall as I tried to figure out what he could possibly want from me. I desperately wanted to talk to Devon, but I had no way of reaching him.

It didn’t take long for me to get up and dress. Devon had been thorough in packing for me and I pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that I threw a black jacket over. My coat went on over that and I added my tall black boots. I may not have known what awaited me, but it never hurt to look fabulous.

There was a note on the kitchen counter next to a set of keys.

Try not to scratch the car.

—D

I grinned, practically hearing the dry phrase uttered inside my head. Nice. He’d left me his car keys, and apparently had very little faith in my driving ability.

I’d never driven a Porsche in my life and it made me nervous to drive one now, but I realized I could get used to driving a luxury sports car pretty darn quick. I really should have been born into royalty.

The sun was blinding off the snow and I was glad of my oversized sunglasses as I found the address. I pulled up to a guard booth in front of a four-story building surrounded by a black iron fence. I told the serious-looking man in uniform my name and who I was there to see. He took my ID, scrutinizing it carefully and checking a clipboard before allowing me through. I parked the car and went inside.

I passed two guys coming out, one of them holding the door for me, and both paused in their conversation, turning to stare as I walked by.

“I’m looking for Agent Lane,” I told the woman behind the reception window.

A few minutes later, the agent was striding toward me. I jumped to my feet from where I’d been waiting in an orange vinyl chair. I combed my fingers nervously through my hair, brushing it back from my face. I saw Agent Lane’s dark gaze follow the movement, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. He was taller than me, his hair a deep chestnut that fell in waves over his forehead.