Relentless Seduction (5 page)

Heat enveloped her. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and inhaled his heady scent. Part cologne and part the unique pheromones of the man, the fragrance made her insides ache and sent her libido into overdrive. Who knew she could be turned on just by a smell?

But Rafe had already stalked away and she rushed to catch up.

The walk back to The Pit seemed twice as long. Twice as dark and miserable. The boots she’d bought at the thrift store weren’t quite her size. She’d have blisters tomorrow. Rafe no longer held her hand, but kept his hands tucked into his jeans pockets while marching a couple feet ahead of her, silent and morose.

She was grateful to make it back to his neighborhood. They may have been sinister-looking, derelict houses, but at least they blocked the cutting wind.

Her gratitude evaporated when a menacing figure materialized from between two buildings and shoved Rafe.

A scream stuck in her throat as he went down. The guy attacked Rafe, but Rafe kicked him, knocking him down. Rafe jumped him. In a blur, the two men fought, rolling on the ground. Claire heard the sound of punching fists and caught the glint of metal, and her heart leaped against her ribs.

Mentally kicking herself, she dug in her purse for her cell phone to call 911. Before she could get to it, one of the men called out in pain, then the attacker raced down the alley he’d come from.

Breathing heavily, Rafe gingerly got to his feet and then turned to her clutching a wicked-looking knife, the blade alone at least six inches long. There was blood on the back of his hand. “You okay?”

Shakily, she nodded, and he slid the knife into his boot.

Her whole body shook. She didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified. This man was much more than a bartender with a tough persona. How dangerous was he?

“Claire?” He took a step toward her, reaching out for her.

She instinctively stepped back.

He dropped his arm and his concerned expression hardened, devoid of emotion.

She blinked, realizing what she’d done. “I’m sorry, I—”

“We’re almost back. In a few blocks you should be able to catch a cab.” He gestured for her to precede him.

Guilt squeezed her chest as she walked past him. She felt his presence behind her, but the dynamics between them had changed. They were no longer allies. It was as if a brick wall had gone up between them. And it was her fault. He’d taken his personal time to check out The Pit for her. Chased a stranger halfway across town, and then defended her against an attack from who knows what kind of criminal, and she’d rewarded him with fear and suspicion.

She’d made such a mess of things.

And she was no closer to finding Julia.

Not for the first time in this debacle, tears stung her eyes. This whole situation seemed hopeless. What if she never found Julia? What if her best friend in the world became a cold case that never got solved? Or worse, what if she was already dead, her body lying in some ditch or thrown in the river?

As they came in sight of The Pit, Rafe pulled out a key from his pocket and headed for an old car that looked like it belonged in a junk yard. It was so late The Pit was closed, dark and quiet inside. And there were no cabs around.

Claire sniffed back her tears, struggling to contain them. Falling apart would not help Julia. She pulled out her phone to call the cab company.

“Just get in.” Rafe stood beside his open driver’s door, one arm resting on the roof, the other elbow propped on top of the door. “I’ll drive you to your hotel.”

With a final sniff, she hobbled to the car, opened the creaking passenger door and slid in. Rafe got behind the wheel and the loud engine roared to life.

She searched for a seat belt and finally found a lap belt and clicked it around her stomach. “Is this kind of seat belt even legal anymore?”

He shot her an incredulous look. “This is a nineteen-seventy-three Plymouth Barracuda. It’s a classic.”

“Okay. Sorry. I didn’t realize.” She glanced at Rafe as he steered away from the curb and made a U-turn on the street. His mouth was a grim line, and his jaw muscle ticked. She’d insulted him again.

She rode the rest of the way in silence and within a few minutes he’d pulled into the curved drive of the Les Chambres Royale and shifted into Neutral, staring straight ahead.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you f—”

“Forget it.”

“I really apprecia—”

“You getting out?”

“I’m just trying to apologize for hurting your feelings.”

“Heh,” he snorted. “You didn’t.”

“Well, I would like to compensate you for your time. You—”

“Look, lady, just stay out of my life and we’ll call it even, okay?”

An unreasonable ache lodged in her throat. She’d never been the touchy-feely kind. She must be especially tired. “Fine.” She shoved her door open and jumped out, then remembered she still wore his jacket. She peeled it off, turned and tossed it onto the seat.

Trying not to limp, she’d barely reached the revolving glass door of the hotel when she heard his engine roar out of the drive. She stiffened her shoulders. With a hard shove she pushed her way into the lobby and strode to the elevators.

As the doors swooshed open, she stepped inside, pressed the button for her floor and then yanked off the wig. She didn’t even want to think about how awful her hair looked. All she wanted was a long hot shower and to crawl into bed.

She would not think about why the thought of never seeing Rafe again made her stomach ache.

Julia should be her only concern.

As she stepped from the elevator onto her floor, she dug the antique key from her purse and made her way down the hallway to her room. Once inside, she hobbled into the bathroom, turned on the shower and then started stripping off the boots and hose carefully. She needed to get some Band-Aids for her blistered feet. She unzipped the dress as she limped to the bedroom, intent on throwing the black garment in the trash.

She froze, her heart pounding. All the drawers had been emptied, her clothes strewn about. She scanned the room. Her laptop was missing. Julia’s suitcases had been dumped. The entire room had been ransacked!

Panicked, Claire raced for the door. The closet door opened in front of her and a familiar man jumped out with a laptop under his arm. It was Shadow! She froze and their gazes met. He saw that she recognized him. Before she could think what to do, he swung the laptop and bashed her temple. She hit the floor in blinding pain and dizziness. When she glanced up, Shadow had raced out of the room.

Shaking, and her head throbbing, she got to her hands and knees and crawled to her purse. She grabbed her phone and Rafe’s business card and dialed his cell.

He answered on the first ring. “Moreau.”

At the sound of his soft, deep voice, a sob escaped. “Rafe! Shadow w-was here and he kn-nocked me down and stole my stuff and, and—” She stifled another sob. “P-please come?”

His phone clicked off.

5

R
AFE
STOMPED
ON
THE
BRAKES
and clutch before Claire had even finished her sentence. He downshifted and yanked the steering wheel sharply to the left, screeching the tires to make a U-turn. His only thought was getting his hands on that punk and beating him to a bloody pulp.

Crap. He’d hit the off button without telling Claire he was on his way. When he tried calling back her cell went straight to voice mail. Didn’t matter. He’d be at the hotel in a few minutes.

When he pulled into the drive a police car was already there, lights flashing. He raced into the lobby. Damn. He didn’t know what room Claire was in.

Two cops were standing at the elevator door. When it opened, he followed them inside. He could feel them scrutinize him, but he had as much right to be here as the next guy. He folded his arms and smiled at first one, then the other until the elevator door opened.

As he started following them to the room, they halted, hands on their gun belts and gave him the once over.

He smirked. Plenty of blow-hard cops had tried to intimidate him over the years. He lifted his chin.
Yeah, give it your best shot, buddy.

They scowled, but turned and headed to the room.

A hotel security guard stood just inside the doorway. The police strode in and Rafe followed right behind them.

One of the officers blocked his way. “Sir, you can’t come in here.”

“The lady called me.” Rafe shoved past the cop, heading for Claire.

The other cop seized him and wrenched his arm behind his back.

“Rafe!” Claire looked up, her eyes wide with fear. She ran to him as if he were some knight in shining armor. “You came.”

His throat tightened. She was holding a bloody washcloth to her left temple. The woman had been through a lot. Her friend’s disappearance, the knife fight and now a break-in. But he was nobody’s damn hero.

The interrogating cop frowned at Claire. “Who is this?”

She blinked. “He’s...a friend.”

Rafe flexed his arm and snarled at the cop as he released him.

The other one pulled out a notepad and pen. “So, what happened here?”

As Claire told them about Shadow jumping out of the closet and knocking her down, her voice broke and Rafe fought the urge to tell the damn cops they’d have to interrogate her later.

“It sounds like an inside job,” one cop said to the hotel security guy. “We’ll need to question all the employees.”

“Actually, I...might know what happened,” Claire said quietly.

Rafe stilled.

“After I realized Julia wasn’t going to meet me at the airport, I went to the police. But after that, I came back here and checked in again, requesting the same room in case Julia showed up and hadn’t gotten my messages. And I...I left several messages letting her know I was in the same room.”

The cop with the notepad frowned. “And you think this Shadow person is in possession of her phone and hotel key?”

Rafe gritted his teeth. Give the man a prize.

“Well, he had her necklace.”

“That’s the necklace the woman told you she bought at the flea market? And the lady at the flea market told you this Shadow person gave it to her to sell for him?” the same cop asked.

Claire nodded.

“Okay. We’re already tracing your friend’s cell number. Also, we’ll need the make, model and serial number of your laptop. We’ll start checking pawn shops.”

Claire nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Anything else missing?” the other cop asked.

Claire looked around the room. “I don’t think so.”

“All right. We’ll file a report and put out a BOLO for the perp.”

“I need to tell you one more thing.” She glanced at Rafe, as if asking for permission. He shrugged.

“Tonight, we saw Shadow at a bar called The Pit, and we followed him to a cemetery.”

“The Saint Luis cemetery off Basin Street,” Rafe provided.

Claire returned her attention to the cop. “But he disappeared. I guess he must’ve realized he was being followed and doubled back.”

The cop gave her a disapproving look. “You need to let the police handle this from here.”

“Yes, I know.” She bit her lip as if she might break down and cry. But she drew in a breath and raised her chin. Something twisted in Rafe’s gut when she raised watery eyes to the cop. “Sergeant Mulroney? Do you think there’s a chance Julia is still alive?” Her voice faltered on the last word and her lips trembled.

“It’s too early to say, Ms. Brooks. But we’ll do everything we can to find her. In the meantime...” The cop raised his brows at the hotel security guard.

“Oh, yes.” The guard cleared his throat. “Ms. Brooks, the manager asked me to offer his sincere apologies and assure you this won’t happen again. We’d like to move you to the President’s Suite.”

“She’s staying with me.” Rafe blinked. Had he just said that out loud? First rule of the streets was take care of number one. He was losing his edge.

“I am?” Claire turned those big brown eyes on him.

What had he just gotten himself into?

The police let Claire pack a few necessary items, but the room was a crime scene and more cops arrived to take pictures and dust for prints. They barely agreed to let her take a change of clothes.

An EMT showed up to check out her injury, closed up the cut with butterfly bandages and gave her some ibuprofen for the pain.

The cops took Rafe’s name, address and phone number before allowing them to leave, and assured Claire they’d be in touch.

A strange sensation overtook Rafe as he drove her home. Half an hour ago he’d been glad to never see her again. Now, a part of him wanted to make her worries go away. Slumped in the seat of his Barracuda, she stared out the window biting her thumbnail, looking so lost and alone. He could relate to that.

It wasn’t until he ushered her into his apartment above the bar that he thought about the sleeping arrangements. It was almost dawn. He was dog-tired.

Claire stood in the middle of his living-slash-dining-slash-bedroom, staring at the largest piece of furniture in his one room efficiency: his bed.

In this one thing, he’d indulged himself. It was a custom-made four-poster mahogany, with a pillow-top mattress and Egyptian thousand-thread-count sheets. He’d foolishly thought it might help his insomnia.

But sleep was overrated.

His new roommate had thrown on that disgusting crocheted poncho over the revealing black dress. She was right; it didn’t go with her so-called disguise. Her hair had been flattened by the spiky wig and the black makeup she’d applied around her eyes had smeared.

How the hell could he find her attractive right now?

But his out of control mind kept seeing her naked in his bed, reliving the freakin’ hot kiss they’d shared in the bar, and his body thought it was go time. The sleep-deprivation must be getting to him.

Not only was
Dr.
Claire Brooks injured and distraught, she was also not his type. Tourist girls were more his style. Young, pretty, looking for a fun fling and, most importantly, gone by the end of the week.

Although, Claire would more than likely be gone by the end of the week, too. The cops would probably find Shadow soon—if Rafe didn’t find him first—and one way or the other, Claire would go back to Boston.

Forget it, Moreau. Remember, she’s trouble in more ways than you want to even think about.

He strode to the tiny bathroom, flipped on the light. “Shower’s here.” He gestured to the mini-fridge. “I don’t have much food, but there’s some baguettes and coffee.” He waited a moment, to see if she had any questions, but she just stood there.

He shifted his weight to the other foot. “Get some sleep. I’ve got paperwork to finish.” He headed for the inside stairway that led to the bar.

“Do you have to go?”

He froze. Her voice sounded so timid, so...needy. Flashes of their brief tongue tangle in The Pit stirred his libido. Her breasts pressed to his chest. His cock rose.

He turned back and met her gaze. “I need sleep and there’s a couch downstairs.”

“There’s enough room in the bed for both of us to sleep.”

His hands curled into fists. “
Cher,
if the both of us get in that bed we won’t be sleeping.”

Her eyes widened behind her glasses. She swallowed. “I know.”

She sounded as if she was agreeing to be guillotined. He folded his arms across his chest. “Try to contain your excitement.”

“I’m tired. And...nervous.” She grabbed the hem of the poncho, lifted it over her head and tossed it on the floor. “I don’t usually have one-night stands.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Then why start now? Do I seem like a guy who needs your charity?”

She reached behind her and began unzipping the black dress, and at the same time toed off her short boots. “No. It’s what I want.” She closed the distance between them as she slipped her arms out of the sleeves and let the dress fall to the floor in a puddle around her feet.

Rafe’s mouth went dry. Her only covering was a black lacy bra and matching boyshort panties. He looked his fill, from her long shapely legs, up her smooth creamy thighs, to her flat stomach, and especially the deep cleavage created by the bra. She wasn’t petite, her hips were solid, and even in her bare feet she stood almost as tall as him.

As if she regretted undressing, her arms crisscrossed her body, uselessly trying to cover herself.

He gently moved them to her sides. “Maybe I do need this, after all.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers, nibbling and tasting. Lust had taken control at The Pit because he’d been blindsided by her transformation. Now, he wanted to take his time, savor her. Placing a hand at her jaw, he explored her mouth slowly with his tongue while his thumb caressed her cheek.

When she moaned and swayed into him, he smiled against her mouth. “Purr for me,
cher.
” He tucked his thumb under her chin and angled her head back to allow his mouth access to her throat. Kissing down her neck, over to her shoulder, he slid one bra strap down out of the way of his lips.

He felt her skin quiver and her breathing grow shaky. His hand slid down and lowered her other strap, caressing her shoulders while his mouth moved down to the soft mound of her breast. Her sigh turned into a gasp as he nuzzled lower and licked her hard nipple over the rough lace.

He moved to her other nipple and then took it into his mouth to suck. She cried out and he smiled. She was so responsive. One arm under her butt, the other around her back, he half walked, half carried her the few feet to the bed and laid her down at the foot with her legs dangling off the edge.

She raised her arms over her head and stretched like a satisfied cat. He unbuttoned his shirt, yanked it off and tossed it. Behind her glasses, her eyes widened as she stared at his chest. Ah, his tat. But she said nothing.

Taking her hips in his hands, he dropped to one knee and kissed her stomach, letting his mouth travel down to the edge of her panties. Her breasts were still covered in black lace.

“Take off your bra,” he rasped against her pelvic bone.
Lifting his head, he watched as she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, and then drew it off slowly one strap at a time.

The bathroom light was thankfully bright enough to see the exact shade of her dusky-pink nipples. He could spend all night just caressing them, kissing them.

“You’re beautiful.” He had to taste one again. And he would. But first, to finish what he’d started. Curling his fingers under the edge of her lacy panties, he pulled the lacy fabric down to her knees, exposing pale pink flesh and dark curls. He groaned as he dragged the dainty underwear the rest of the way off her.

Beginning at her ankle, he stroked his hand up one leg to her inner thigh and spread her intimate folds.

When he brought his mouth to her soft sweet spot, she gasped and stiffened. As if she’d never had a man do that before. Geez, surely she wasn’t... He looked up and caught her gaze. “This isn’t your...first time, is it?”

She looked appalled. “No! Of course not!”

Thank God. He lowered himself and he whimpered and wiggled, encouraging him to continue.

And he was only just getting started.