Confusion flashed in those intense gray eyes of hers. “Making the rounds.”
No woman kept Stryker waiting. But, clearly, this one did.
“I’ll walk with you to the second floor,” he said. “I’m headed there for a drink.”
“Last call was at two.”
Ah, Christ, here we go again.Mavis instructed the staff to serve him at all hours. Dammit, the new gatekeeper was pissing him off again. Yanking open the fire door, he waited while she sauntered past. Her feminine, flowery scent grabbed his attention. She smelled so damn good. Good enough to eat.
Club members rarely used the back stairs and he found himself alone with her. The fire door slammed shut and he hung back so he could admire her hourglass figure, the curve of her ass and the sway of her hips as she made her way down. God, he loved women, and this one had hijacked his complete attention.
After placing her hand on the second-floor door handle, she turned back and pinned him with another fiery gaze. “But you look like the kinda man who takes what he wants without permission or apology.”
A ravenous need overcame him and he grabbed her hands and lifted her arms over her head. Pinning her body against the cold, metal door, he kissed her,hard.
She groaned into his mouth and stroked his tongue with wild abandon. He ground against her, the desire building to a maddening frenzy.
And then his brain kicked in and he broke away. Panting, he stepped back. Her straining nipples stretched against the thin layer of fabric.
Fuck me.
He’d done the unthinkable. He’d kissed Stryker’s gal.
She sucked in a harsh breath while her laser-focused gaze never left his. Dragging her fingers through her short hair made his balls ache. “Mavis let the bartenders serve past two,” she said as if that scorching kiss hadn’t just happened. “I hate to be a ball-buster, but I’m following strict orders. The bars on all three levels are closed.”
Her voice didn’t quiver. She didn’t bat her thick black lashes and her cheeks didn’t flush with color. But her pupils were fully dilated and it wasn’t from the dimly lit stairwell. She wanted him to believe that kiss hadn’t affected her, but her body was screaming for more. And he wanted to accommodate her in every possible way.
All he could think to say was, “When did Stryker become a rule follower?”
He hated when useless shit came flying out of his mouth. He’d kissed Stryker’s girl. He’d have to tell him. And then block Stryker’s right hook. No, Stryker would clock him with a left sucker punch because he wouldn’t expect that. Whatever Stryker gave him, he’d take, like a man.
She shrugged. “He’s always been that way. I’ve got to head downstairs and clear out the young, wild things. See ya.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She didn’t glance over her shoulder at him, either. She just left him standing alone in the stairwell with a raging hard-on and an aching, suffocating need to kiss her again.
His vibrating phone shifted his attention and he read the incoming text from the sitter. “Sammy woke again. Didn’t feel well. Temp 99.2.”
“Be there shortly,” he texted back. As he strode down the steps and out into the night, his desire for a whiskey and a fuck were replaced with an urgent need to care for his child.
4
The Prodigal Son
Providence Reynolds eased onto the cold, park bench, coffee cup in hand. At ten minutes past seven, she had the area to herself, so she reread the text from her boss.
“Langers Park, Arlington, Sat, 7AM.”
While it was unusual that Lou would request an off-site meeting so early into the investigation, she didn’t question it. She was a damn good team player, but this assignment had her pissed off. Babysitting a playboy real estate broker was total BS.
She didn’t care that his piercing blue eyes had stripped her bare and locked in on her with an intensity that made her crazy with lust. It didn’t matter that men sporting some facial scruff drove her wild, and that Dakota Luck wore his to perfection. And so what if she could have stared at him and his rock-hard body for days?
She had a job to do, so she’d ignore her raging hormones, act like the pro she was, and get it done. Period.
Maybe Luck is the perfect assignment for me.
She’d just come off an intense, twenty-one-month gig where she’d worked all the angles, made dangerous connections, and even went so far as to step inside the bizarre world of a cult in order to find several missing persons. Because of her efforts, their bodies had been found, and the son-of-a-bitch cult leader had been arrested.
Then, she’d gotten “selected” by management to work this case. “What a crock,” she grumbled before downing a mouthful of joe.
