Nothing To Lose: A Grey Justice Novel (30 page)

She began, softly, shakily, “Hi, Thomas, it’s me…Kennedy.”
 

Nick carried the heavy-laden tray down the hallway. The thought of waking up a sleepy and sex-exhausted Kennedy made his movements faster than was safe for two glasses of orange juice, two mugs and a large carafe of coffee.

It was Saturday morning, and Nick wanted to do something he never thought he’d have the chance to do—share a late-morning breakfast with Kennedy as they read the newspaper to each other. Most times, when fantasies about Kennedy arose, he had beaten them into submission, but when one had slipped through occasionally, this was one of the most prevalent.
 

Some men fantasized about sex, some about football. Nick’s fantasies involved him and Kennedy sharing the mundane as well as the spectacular. And no doubt about it, the sex had been spectacular…beyond anything he could have ever imagined. But now, he wanted to show her that he wanted much more than sex.

Of course, his big secret was out now. He sure as hell had never envisioned shouting that he was in love with her. Actually, he’d never allowed himself to even dream about that possibility. Still, he couldn’t deny that her response to his less-than-romantic declaration had been more than he ever could have hoped.
 

He veered right to go to the guest bedroom he had been using. A slight, muffled sound stopped him. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed that the door to the master bedroom was half open.

Nick turned around and headed that way. Had she woken and decided to get dressed? He stopped at the door, was about to push it open farther when he heard a sniffle. Sticking his head inside, he spotted Kennedy sitting on the bed, her back to him. About to ask her what was wrong, he heard her mumble something. Was she talking to herself? He strained to hear and then stopped breathing. A hammer slamming full force into his chest couldn’t have been more painful when he finally made out some of her words, “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

Silent and grim, Nick backed away and headed back to the kitchen. Stupid as it may seem, he didn’t eavesdrop on private conversations between husband and wife. And what the hell had he expected? That Kennedy would suddenly be in love with him just because he could make her scream when she came?
 

He placed the tray on the kitchen counter and removed the items. She didn’t need to know he had overheard her.
 

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he pulled in a breath and faced facts. She had apologized to Thomas. What had been the best night of his life, bar none, Kennedy apparently considered a huge mistake.
 

Did he feel guilt? Hell yeah. He’d been living with that for years. A man didn’t fall in love with his best friend’s wife and not stay eaten up with it. And even though he still felt the guilt, it was, as usual, intermingled with an unending want.
 

Hearing Kennedy’s steps heading toward the kitchen, Nick pushed away the pain. Being hurt over something you couldn’t change accomplished shit.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

Game face on, Nick turned. “Morning. Want some coffee?”

“Yes, please.” She flicked a nervous look at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. You?”

She jerked slightly, as if surprised at his abrupt tone. “I’m fine.” She smiled shyly. “Maybe a little sore.”

“Take a shower…that’ll help.”

“Yes, I suppose it will.”
 

She bit her lip and then winced. He didn’t have to wonder why. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses. He poured a cup from the carafe and handed it to her.
 

“Thanks.” She took a small sip and then said, “So, I guess we should talk.”

Drawing on his ability to shield his thoughts, Nick shot her a blank, questioning look. “About what?”
 

“About last night. We—”

“What about last night? We had sex. It was good.” His smile was as cocky as he could muster. “Damn good.”

“But—”

“I’ve got to get going.”

“Where are you going?”

“Thought I’d do some recon around Adam Slater’s estate. If you’re going to be staying there soon, I want to know as much about the property as possible.”

“So we’re going to go along with the new plan?”

“Of course. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes…but last night…you—”

“Last night I did and said a lot of things. It’s a new day.”

“Wait. Is something wrong? I thought—”

“Can’t think of a thing that’s wrong.” He swallowed the last of his coffee. “See you later.”

Frozen in shock, so hurt and stunned she could barely catch her breath, Kennedy watched Nick stalk out of the kitchen. Seconds later, she heard the front door slam shut, and then the roar of his motorcycle told her he was gone.

What the hell…? Of all the things she’d thought they would say to each other this morning, this hadn’t hit her radar. He had told her he loved her. Had that been a lie? Had he said that to get her to sleep with him? No, she couldn’t…wouldn’t believe something like that. But if it wasn’t that, what had happened?

The cold, remote man of this morning had been the total opposite of what he had been last night. Could he just turn his feelings on and off like that? Her mind whispered an insidious thought: Of course he could. He was Nick Gallagher, playboy extraordinaire. How many times had Thomas told her about Nick’s sexual escapades? Not the actual details, but enough to know that the man could sleep with a multitude of women and have no permanent feelings for them. He rarely dated the same woman for more than a month. How in the hell had she thought she was any different?
 

Had one of the most incredible nights of her life meant nothing more to him than scratching an itch?

Kennedy refilled her coffee cup and headed upstairs. She felt achy and out of sorts. Every time she moved, another memory of last night washed over her. She’d never been so immersed in another person, dominated, controlled or felt so incredibly safe.
 

She shook her head. She had to stop thinking of him. What happened had happened…there was nothing she could do to change it. She needed to adopt Nick’s attitude. It’d been damn good but was in the past.

With that thought in mind, Kennedy practically ripped her clothes off and jumped into the shower. Getting Nick’s scent off of her body, as well as easing the aches of overexcess, was a priority. Then she would set her sights on the future. She needed to contact Grey and let him know she was definitely in on their new plan.
 

Hot water gushed over her, and she found herself lingering over her breasts, the soreness of her nipples, the small, slightly achy bite mark Nick had left on her shoulder when he’d taken her from behind. No, no, no. Shaking her head, she opened her eyes and concentrated on getting clean. As she washed between her legs, she ground her teeth together and focused on everything but the delicious soreness in her sex. She had been used and used well, she needed to remember that.

Grey couldn’t say he was surprised to see Gallagher at the door of his penthouse. His home address was a well-guarded secret, known to only a few. Wasn’t the first time Gallagher had proved himself resourceful.

The expression on the man’s face kept Grey from making any sarcastic remarks. He knew that look. Gallagher had the appearance of a man who’d had his balls doused with hot pepper sauce and then handed to him on a platter. Nothing could destroy a man quite so well as having his heart ripped from his chest by the woman he loved.

Maybe if they’d known each other longer, Grey would’ve asked him what had happened…invite him to share. But a man wouldn’t spill his guts to just anyone. An enormous amount of trust was involved—something Gallagher had in short supply.
 

Grey did nothing more than lead him into his living room and nod toward the coffee service on the table. He waited until the other man had poured a cup and downed half of it. Yeah, a guy who could swallow that hot, bitter brew without flinching had a lot on his mind.

 
“Since it’s a little early for social visits, I’m assuming you’ve come for another reason?”

Gallagher took another swallow and then gave him a glare that would probably have made most people back up and look for an escape. “I think we need to get a few things straight.”

“And that would be?”

“First, if you use Kennedy, you’re a dead man.”

“Use her? In what manner?”

“You know what I’m talking about. If this is all a game to you, then you need to cut her loose. I’ll continue to work with you, but she can’t be a party to this.”

“So you believe I’m in this for myself?”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Justice. I recognize the signs of a man who wants vengeance. I agreed to our arrangement because it worked for both of us, but I made it clear that using Kennedy to further your own agenda is out of the question. That hasn’t changed.”

“My issues with Slater have nothing to do with this. We agreed that—”

“We agreed as long as it benefitted both of us. Getting Kennedy killed wasn’t part of it.”

“What makes you think she’s in danger more than she was before?”

“Changing the rules in the middle of the game is a sure way to cause havoc. If Adam Slater suspects any kind of setup, the first person he’ll get rid of is Kennedy.”

There was something else on Gallagher’s mind. A distrust that wasn’t totally coming from this proposed change.

“What else is bothering you?”

“Your tattoo…the one on your wrist. Where’d you get it? What does it mean?”

“The scales of justice? Surely you can put two and two together.”

“Yeah, but it’s not adding up to what it should. Two people were found dead with that same tattoo.”

He kept his expression careful, indifferent. “When did this happen? And where?”

“England and Ireland. About seventeen years ago.”

So no new ones. Grey eased a breath from his body and arched a brow. “You think I had something to do with their deaths when I was barely seventeen? Not sure if I should be insulted or complimented.”

“I learned long ago that coincidences are about as rare as unicorns. Don’t tell me those deaths aren’t related to you. I’m not buying it.”

“Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t own everything…including exclusive rights to my tattoo. I’m sure there are many people who have it—and some of them have probably died.”

Gallagher’s eyes frosted over. “Forget it. The deal’s off. If you can’t trust me enough to tell the truth, I’ll damn well not trust you with Kennedy’s life.”
 

As Gallagher headed toward the door, Grey knew he could stop him with another bullshit story. Lying had been a way of life from birth. So why wasn’t he speaking, preventing the man from leaving? Maybe he was tired of lying, but he sure wouldn’t tell him the truth. They’d just have to find another way to get to Slater.

“You want to know the truth about the tattoo, Mr. Gallagher?” a soft, lilting voice asked.

Grey closed his eyes on a silent sigh. Of course, Irelyn had been listening to every word.

Gallagher halted and turned to the beautiful woman standing just outside the bedroom door. “The truth would be a nice change.”

“The man and woman who were found dead, one in England, the other in Ireland, were my parents. They were murdered because of their work for an organization they joined before they were married. The tattoo was a mark each member of the organization wore. Then a man…a very evil man…went through the organization, systematically eliminating each member. Grey was an orphan…my parents took him in and raised him as their own. We grew up together, and when he was old enough to make a decision, he joined the group. When the assassin came, Grey and I barely escaped with our lives.”

Grey could only stand and stare in awe at the story Irelyn had just weaved. Her words carried just enough truth to make the story seem plausible, but she’d left out some very important details.

“What was the organization?” Gallagher asked.

“The name is unimportant, but their goals were similar to what we do now. They brought justice to people who had been wronged. When Grey and I came to the States, we had to lie low for a while. I was still a teenager. Grey concentrated on amassing a fortune while I grew up. Only within the last few years have we been able to start again.”

Gallagher’s narrow-eyed gaze swung toward Grey. “Why wouldn’t you tell me the truth?”

“Because the story is mine to tell…not Grey’s. He promised he would never tell anyone. Think what you want about him, Mr. Gallagher, but above all, Grey is a man of his word.”

Grey kept his silence. Anything he added would only muck it up. Besides, the deep stab to his chest at her words would have probably affected his voice. She hadn’t been complimenting him when she’d said he was a man of his word. The promises he’d made to her hadn’t been exactly what any woman would want to hear.

“Fine,” Gallagher growled, “but remember this, Justice. If anything happens…if Kennedy even gets a paper cut, no one, nowhere, will be able to protect you from me.” With those words, he strode out the door.