Wicked Lovers 07 Ours to Love (13 page)

Absolutely not. Fear lumped in London’s stomach at the thought of Javier dealing with
this cold-blooded killer. She barely knew her boss, but already she was attached—probably
more than she should be. The idea of him in danger made her faint and anxious. A part
of her wished they would stop this investigation altogether. If Nick dug into this
assassin’s life to find out who’d hired him, the killer might figure it out. What
if he came after Javier?

“I’ve got another new piece of information.” Nick said, his voice thick with tension.
“Sit.”

“I can face bad news standing, thank you.” He took another swig of vodka.

“I think it’s a mistake.”

“If I wanted your advice, I’d ask for it.” Javier raised a brow at him. “Tell me now.”

“The Aruban coroner was paid to hide the fact that your wife was pregnant, about four
weeks.”

London bit her lip to hold in a gasp. He hadn’t just lost a wife, but a child, as
well? God, no wonder that man was broken. Everything inside her wanted to soothe her
boss, tell him that she would help however she could, stand by his side, do anything
to help him heal.

Of course he wouldn’t care. She was his assistant, not his girlfriend or his lover.
Still, she made the silent pledge to herself to try to put him back together personally
somehow, just as he was guiding her professionally.

She doubled her pledge to herself when she saw Javier retreat behind his desk and
gulp down nearly half of what was left in his bottle.

“Anything else?” he asked Nick. The voice was dispassionate, but she saw the strain
in his profile evident in his pinched mouth and clenched jaw.

“Not now. If I make any progress in finding the identity of the assassin or the person
who hired him, you’ll be the first to know.”

“You’re keeping this very quiet, I trust?”

“A mouse is louder, man. I promise.”

Javier nodded. “Thank you. London will show you out.”

As Nick turned in her direction, she scrambled to roll her chair back under her desk.
She opened the folder Javier had given her earlier this morning with the complaints
about the excess log-ins and pretended to study them.

“You can stop eavesdropping now,” Nick said wryly, stepping out of Javier’s office
and closing the door behind him.

She looked up, grimacing guiltily. “His secrets are safe with me.”

“I hope so,” the private investigator murmured. “He needs someone in his corner.”

London studied the man. Shaggy dark hair, a faded tee, slightly disreputable jeans . . .
He didn’t look like prime private investigator material, but he was making painful
progress with the case. And he cared about Javier on some level. She had to respect
that.

“How long have you known him?” she asked.

“About five years. He only calls me when the cases are tough. He’d been cutting through
red tape and bureaucratic bullshit about Francesca’s murder for the last eleven months.
I stepped in a few weeks ago.”

“Has he always been a drinker?”

“Never.”

London wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. She let out a shuddering
breath.

“He needs someone to care about him, and I’m only answering your questions because
I’m hoping you’re that person. You double-cross him, and I’ll cut you up into tiny
pieces and bury you around the four corners of the Earth. No one will ever guess what
happened to you.”

Nick didn’t crack a smile, so she didn’t take it as a joke.

“No worries about that. He took a chance on me when he hired me. I already owe him
a debt I can’t repay.” She clenched and unclenched her fist nervously, then decided
to go for broke. “Why don’t he and his brother talk?”

Shrugging, Nick shook his head. “I don’t know much about his relationship with Xander.
I know Javier doesn’t suffer laziness and excess easily. As far as I can tell, Xander
has devoted his life to wine, women, and song . . . and not necessarily in that order.”

Maybe that had caused their rift, but she sensed it was something deeper. “Thank you.”

Nick thumbed toward Javier’s office behind him. “Watch out for him. I have a feeling
this case is going to get uglier before I solve it, and he’s unexpectedly heavy on
the vodka.”

She couldn’t drive him home since she didn’t have a driver’s license, but she’d figure
it out. “I will.”

With that, Nick left. And London sat glued to her seat in indecision. Stay here and
pretend that she’d heard nothing or knock on his door and see if she could lend an
ear?

In the end, Javier took the decision from her hands. He left his desk, opened the
door with one hand. The other held an empty bottle. He swayed on his feet, and he
stared at her with accusing eyes.

“You came back early.”

“I-I had nowhere else to go. I didn’t realize . . .”

“I give you directives for a reason.” He pounded his fist on her desk, his face contorted
with anger. But she saw the pain beneath.

She flinched, then her temper flared. “I’m your assistant. You picked me. Let me assist
you, damn it.”

“No cursing, little one. You’re my professional right hand. I don’t need you in my
personal life.”

Though he was right, it hurt a little. Still, London hesitated, debating the wisdom
of the words on the tip of her tongue. If she wanted to save her own ass, she should
definitely shut up now. If she wanted to save his, she had to get brave.

“Are you sure? You need something. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have polished off a whole
bottle of vodka by barely one o’clock in the afternoon. Would you like me to apologize
to you? Fine. I’m sorry I overheard. I’m sorry if you lost a beloved wife and a child
on the way. I’m sorry if you’re sad or embarrassed or feel like the situation is totally
out of your control. I’m sorry you’ve isolated yourself so seriously that you’re relying
on your brand-new assistant to help you out of your binge, rather than your brother
or friends. I’m sorry if I’m upsetting you even more. But I’m never going to apologize
for trying to help you.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her baggie of items,
slamming it on the desk. “Here’s some ibuprofen and reading glasses.”

Javier cursed, then tossed the empty bottle in the trash can. “Where the hell did
you come from? You’re the first person on my payroll in at least ten years who’s given
a shit
and
had the balls to stand up to me. And you’re barely more than a baby.” He shook his
head. “Everything you heard is confidential.”

The intimation that she’d tell anyone deeply affronted her. “Of course.”

He swayed on his feet, and she jumped up to guide him into her office chair. He plopped
down, the bulky piece of furniture rolling across her plastic mat. He anchored himself
by wrapping his hands around her hips.

London went hot all over. Javier Santiago was touching her. Her breath caught . . .
just like it did when she remembered the sinful way his brother had put his mouth
on her and given her a scream-worthy orgasm. And somehow, she couldn’t escape the
notion that if Javier knew what she and Xander had done mere days ago, he wouldn’t
be pleased.

“Sir?”

“Fuck, yes,” he practically groaned. “That word on your lips is so sweet.”

Something started pounding between her legs, and she feared it was desire. She understood
why he’d want the professional deference of her calling him “sir,” but his voice suggested
that the pleasure he derived was almost sexual. She didn’t understand. But she wanted
to.

“You should probably let go of me.” That was the last thing London wanted, but she
would hate to add to his pile of regrets. He didn’t need more of those.

He struggled to his feet, feeling his way up by steadying himself on her waist. God,
he was everywhere on her, and it took everything she had not to press herself against
him. What kind of girl was she that she took pleasure from one brother while also
desiring the other? London didn’t have the answer. Then one of his hands brushed her
breast on the way to her shoulder. The thought dissipated under the heat of his touch.

Javier held her close and stared down into her eyes. “You’re right. I should.” He
slurred his words now. “You’re so beautiful, London. Do you know that I spent most
of our interview thinking about how badly I want to fuck you?”

Heat blasted her. Her jaw dropped. She blinked, trying to process what he’d said.
He wanted to . . .
Whoa!
She really should be insulted or worried or afraid—something appropriate in this
situation. But all she could feel was a tingling behind her throbbing clit that spelled
trouble.

“Sir, I—”

“You’ll call me that someday and mean it when you kneel for me, little one.”

Kneel? Like she was praying? “I don’t understand.”

He sent her a wobbly smile and brushed his body against hers. He tucked his face in
her neck and inhaled sharply. The scent of booze wafted from him, but that wasn’t
enough to suppress her desire. She also smelled his strength, his musk, and his need.
Desiring him when he was so nearly unhinged wasn’t smart. Wanting to “fix” him now
probably put her in the utterly stupid category . . . but she couldn’t really help
how she felt.

“I know. But if I had my way, you would.”

Javier swayed toward her, eyes closing, head cocking, mouth drawing closer to her
own. He intended to kiss her? The man she’d encountered this morning would be horrified
if he could see himself now. And as much as she wanted to know if she could soothe
him with her kiss, she had a feeling it would only make him lament everything more
tomorrow.

“You can’t—” She pushed at him, only meaning to put a bit of distance between them.

Instead, he fell back into her chair limply, passed out before his ass ever hit the
cushion.

His snoring started moments later, and she stared at him, shaking her head. Well,
that probably ended the workday. And she couldn’t just leave him here.

With a sigh, she found her cell phone in her purse and dialed Alyssa. “Hi. Um, I need
help. Or rather, Javier does. Can you come get us? I don’t think he should be alone
tonight.”

Chapter Seven

X
ANDER
prowled his hotel suite. It wasn’t the Ritz, and everything smelled faintly like mildew,
but that wasn’t what agitated him. He gripped his phone, nearly crushing it between
his fingers. It was the only way he could manage to resist throwing it against the
wall.

London. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her over the last few days. The cloud of
her pale hair. Her responsiveness. Her plump, perfect breasts. The shy flirtation
of her gaze between thick lashes contrasted so sharply with her sexy as hell striptease.
The way she’d offered him her virginity so easily, but then given him an invalid phone
number—all while looking so guileless.

He’d been trying to both reach her for the last forty-eight hours and find someone
who would take his mind off of her. Neither tactic had done a damn bit of good. And
he’d had enough.

For whatever reason, he was hung up on this girl. It was a momentary thing. Probably.
Like every other woman, once he’d had her a time or two, he’d be over her, right?
He didn’t want to be the one to take her virginity. He didn’t want to hurt her and
he didn’t want the responsibility. Well, at least logically. Deep down, on some visceral
level he’d never felt, he wanted to put his stamp on her, leave some permanent mark
on her, and know in that moment she was
his
.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

No idea, but whatever it was urged him to grab his keys and leave his suite, drive
across town in the light afternoon traffic. After a phone call to Tara, he verified
Luc and Alyssa’s address and found himself ringing the doorbell ten minutes later.

Luc opened the door, juggling his little daughter, Chloe. “Xander! Hey, man. Come
on in.”

As Luc stepped back to admit him, Xander stepped in. He heard Alyssa bustling around
the kitchen. “Thank you. I wondered if I could talk to your wife for a moment. I have
a question I think only she can answer. It’s about someone I met at Sirens.”

Understanding dawned on Luc’s dark face, and he winked. “She makes it a point to treat
her girls at the club as much like family as they’ll let her, so she probably knows
something about every one of them. But don’t be surprised if she gives you the ‘mommy
hen’ speech. I don’t think she’s recovered yet from Tyler plowing his way through
her staff. Thank God for Delaney.”

Luc laughed, and Xander tried to follow suit as the other man led him to the kitchen.
Alyssa was seasoning meat and searching for a pan in the cabinet under the stove when
she popped her head up and smiled.

“Hi! I was going to call you and tell you that your brother is here.”

Of all the subjects he didn’t want to discuss now. Javier was a buzzkill, one who
had made himself quite plain with his litany of “fuck offs.” Javier didn’t want or
need him as a business partner or a brother, so . . . “Then I won’t stay long. The
other day, I was at Sirens and I met a girl named London. Does she work for you?”

Alyssa paused, frowning, then flicked a glance over at Luc. Then she sighed. “London
doesn’t work for me. She’s my cousin.”

Her
 . . . He sighed.
Oh, fuck.
“I didn’t know that.”

Alyssa slanted him a stare. “She told me that you met her. You asked her to lunch?”

Among other things. He hoped to hell they didn’t notice him turning red, but he felt
heat crawl up his face. “I want to talk to her.”

The first thing he really wanted to do was make her look at him and explain her rationale
for running out and leaving him a phone number for a video store going out of business.
The second thing he wanted to do was strip away whatever ugly pants she had on today,
toss her over his lap, and spank her ass red. Then he wanted to arouse her to the
brink of her sanity, until she begged him to fuck her. Then? Oh, yeah. He’d give her
everything she wanted and more.

“We should talk about your brother first. He’s beyond drunk. A private eye came to
see him, and told him that—”

“Javier isn’t my problem. He wants me out of his life, so I’m butting out. I’ll hire
someone to get him out of your hair and take him home. I’m just here for London.”

Exasperation filled Alyssa’s sigh, but she shrugged. “All right. Follow me.”

He fell in behind the woman, her stilettos clicking across the tile floor as she exited
the kitchen and made her way down the hall to a cozy little den off the left. A big
chocolate brown sofa in rich leather lined one wall. Javier lay sprawled across its
length, eyes closed, looking halfway to passed out. And perched on the edge of the
sofa next to him, holding his hand, was London.

The sight of her was a blow to his chest, as if he couldn’t find air for a long moment.
Sun slanted through the window, creating a halo around her pale hair, which fell softly
down her back. She wore a sundress, something brightly colored and beach-worthy, topped
with a little sweater. Concern tightened her profile. When the hell had she met Javier,
much less gotten to know him enough to be worried about him?

She spoke softly to his brother, whispers he couldn’t altogether hear. His first instinct
was to rip her away from Javier and kiss her breathless. Another part of him was damn
glad Javier was allowing someone to give a shit about him.

“Honey,” Alyssa called. “You have a guest.”

London lifted her head and looked his way. He sent her a stare with just a hint of
displeasure. Her gasp was gratifying.

“Xander.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t polite. “I tried to call you.”

London winced as she unlaced her fingers from Javier’s, rose, and approached. “How
are you?”

“Honestly? A little pissed off. Why did you do it?”

She dropped her gaze and shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t think it would matter.”

“Because you didn’t think I would call.” Xander didn’t ask; he knew.

That pissed him off even more, even as he acknowledged that with just about every
other woman and every other phone number, he would have dumped both. Why was London
different?

“I didn’t think I’d be calling a video store, getting their going-out-of-business
spiel.”

“I’m sorry.” At his raised brow, she rushed on. “Really. I guess I should have had
the guts to just tell you that I didn’t think seeing you again was a good idea.”

“I was just suggesting lunch.”

London hesitated, then looked over her shoulder to Javier, who watched them with bleary,
half-closed eyes. His brother was drunk off his ass. Again. How fucking perfect.

Alyssa looked between them in the uncomfortable pause, then smiled. “I’ll just . . .
finish what I was doing in the kitchen.”

When the woman slipped out, Xander edged closer to London. “The other day, you wanted
more than lunch. I’m willing to give it to you. In fact, I’m dying to.”

The words slipped out of his mouth. He still wasn’t sure that he should take responsibility
for her first experience. But who better? He had very little purpose in life, but
he knew how to make a woman feel damn good in bed. Leaving her in inept hands . . .
No, he couldn’t do that. She’d waited all this time for reasons he still couldn’t
fathom. He wanted her to enjoy her first experience. And he was determined to have
a part of her no other man ever would.

London opened her mouth, then looked back to Javier again. Xander leaned so that he
could see her face. Her expression drop-kicked him. She looked at Javier with concern,
the softness there so full of kindness. But she also looked at him like he was a god,
like she wanted to curl up against his brother, lose her clothes, and give him every
bit of herself.

Goddamn it
.

Yeah, he could just turn and go. There were plenty of other women in the world, even
in this pissant town. He could get laid anywhere, anytime, by virtually anyone he
wanted. But he wanted her.

Xander raked a hand through his hair, at a loss to explain why he’d fixated on this
little virgin. What was it about her that kept tugging him back?

She was real. She’d said no. And for the first time in a long time he wanted to know
a woman beyond her appearance and her preferences in bed.

“You don’t have to tell me what you think I want to hear, Xander,” she said, turning
back to him. “You made yourself clear. I accept that you’re not really interested—”

“No, that’s what
you
decided. That’s not what I said.” He cut her off, anger and surprising jealousy brewing.
“You surprised me. I wanted to talk to you more, make sure you really wanted sex before
I took something from you that I can’t give back. London, I went down on you until
you came on my tongue. What more would you like me to do to prove that I’m interested?”

She blushed, then cast a nervous glance back to Javier again, who looked on with sleepy
eyes. He couldn’t be hearing much, and that was just fine with Xander.

“Do you have to bring that up?” London flushed sweetly.

“If you’re going to act like I don’t exist, then yes. I’m not giving you an easy opportunity
to walk away from me again. I want you, London.”

“You want a lot of girls, prettier ones. Wouldn’t you rather have one more experienced?
I think maybe I need someone who’s more my speed.”

“What? A ‘nice’ guy you meet at a library or church group?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Hell if that visual didn’t crawl up his back and gnaw at his brain. “Bullshit. Is
a guy like that going to make your blood race,
belleza
?”

“That may be what you want, but I’m looking for something more . . . meaningful.”

“Meaningful? You offered me your virginity on your cousin’s bed like you couldn’t
wait to get rid of it.” He cocked his head. Predictably, she didn’t answer. “You’re
afraid.”

“A little.” She bit her lip as if that was a hard admission.

He softened. She’d been protecting herself. Clearly, she knew his reputation. And
really, he didn’t blame her. In her shoes, he would be reluctant, too. That didn’t
make him less annoyed.

“I understand. Just go to lunch with me. We’ll talk.” When she looked ready to refuse,
he rushed on. “Just talk. I’ll set your mind at ease. If you’re still not sure or
not ready, I’ll walk away. No harm. No foul.”

He wasn’t sure he could keep his word on that, so he’d just have to do his best to
convince her. Because the thought of never seeing her again made him surprisingly
crazy. He wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of the chase he’d never had to give, or
because with her he saw the world through fresh eyes. Sex, which had long ago ceased
being different or interesting, had been novel with her. Because it had been novel
to
her.

Xander wasn’t giving up.

“Take a chance.” He stepped even closer and wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing
her closer. “If you’re worried that you’re somehow too inexperienced to be woman enough
or some such shit, don’t. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for days.”

Beneath him, her sweet pink lips parted. She blinked, and longing filled those lovely
blue eyes. No way he could resist that. He didn’t even try.

Lowering his head, he layered his mouth over London’s. God, she was everything he
remembered and more. That citrusy-floral scent swamped him as her lips dissolved against
his like the most sugary cotton candy. He sank into her silken mouth, wrapping his
hands in her hair and dragging her closer. A kiss alone rarely got him hard anymore,
but his cock was standing up full and stretched tall to greet her.

Jesus, he wanted to inhale London. Her sweetness . . . that’s what had lingered in
his memory. She’d rolled around in his mind, and he’d half-wondered if he’d imagined
her honeyed taste and the cloud-soft feel of her body against his. For years, he’d
been fucking females who felt more like tree branches. Girls, not women. London had
reformed him. From now on, boobs and hips were an absolute must.

Beneath him, she opened her lips wider, and he greedily drank in every new bit of
herself she yielded to him. He thrust his way into her mouth with a hungry groan,
prowling, staking a claim. Would he ever grow tired of the way she melted into him?
Her submission to the kiss, no matter how hungry it turned, was absolute. With her,
he felt ten feet tall. She was so damn perfect. And she made him so fucking hard.

This vertical shit wasn’t working, but Javier took up the only sofa in the room. Xander
settled for a wall, backing London up against it and taking complete control of the
kiss. Then he nipped his way over her neck, his mouth resting at her ear. “You make
me so hot,
belleza
. I was an idiot last week to hesitate. I haven’t forgotten you. I haven’t wanted
anyone else—”

London pushed away from him. “Enough.”

She panted, wedging a hand between them to rest on the swells of her breasts, as if
she was trying to catch her breath. Even that looked sexy as hell, and he’d give anything
to have his palm right where she had hers. Which gave him all kinds of great ideas.

He cupped the indentation of her waist and leaned into the plush flesh of her abdomen,
letting her feel how much he wanted her. “It’s not enough at all. I don’t know if
I can get enough. I’m dying to touch you. Give me a second chance, and I’ll make this
so good for you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to reply before he let his palm drift up. He cupped her
breast and thumbed her nipple. She swayed a bit on her feet and moaned softly. Her
eyes fluttered closed. Her body turned so pliant against him.

“Xander . . .” She half-opened her blue eyes to him, both vulnerable and damn sexy.

He sucked in a breath as he teased her nipple again with a slow caress. Passion softened
her face, shaped by a bit of surprise. She hadn’t expected to be this aroused by his
touch. She was so new to desire, and Xander wanted to fan that flame until she burned
so hot she never thought of leaving his bed.

“
Belleza
, I’ll give you so much pleasure.” He kept thumbing the hard bud of her nipple slowly,
back and forth, marveling as her cheeks flushed rosy. Her lips parted in silent invitation,
his for the taking.