While those who were unaware of his upbringing thought he was affected by it due to his…habits and the fact he rarely stayed with one woman, the truth was, he had enough common sense to know that not all relationships were like his parents’.
In reality, he had always been the least affected by his bastard of a father and train wreck of a mother. He just hadn’t met the woman he wanted to be with for more than a few hours here and there or involved in any aspect of his life.
He really should get the fuck out of here. The lack of interest was one of the reasons why he hadn’t frequented Leather and Lace lately. And this was the only place he’d do this in. He never brought women back to his home. His cell started vibrating again.
Fuck.
Leaning back in his chair, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. Curiosity perked when he saw that it was his partner's number. “Paul?”
“Thanks for answering the phone in a timely manner,” a deep, gravelly voice said.
Alaric's lips tipped up at the corners. “I’ve been busy.” Which was utter bullshit, since all he’d been doing was sitting here, staring at a half-naked woman, with the limpest dick in town. “What’s up?”
“Mrs Spencer was here looking for you.”
He arched a brow as Racheal glanced over her bare shoulder again and licked her plump red lips. “Did she say what she needed?” he asked.
“She said she wanted to talk to you," he replied, and the sound of fingers tapping along a keyboard echoed in the background. “She asked for you directly.”
“And you didn’t ask her why?” His brows lowered.
Paul snorted. “Of course I did, but she didn’t tell me. And before you ask, she was out the door and down the street before I could get my gimpy ass out of the chair and follow her to get her tags.”
About six weeks ago, Paul had taken a nasty gunshot to the leg during a security detail and was now on desk duty for at least another three weeks, but he still went around with Alaric once in a while. Shit happened. Alaric had a matching bullet wound on his arm and his thigh from an incident a few years back.
Shaking her lace-covered ass at him, Racheal purred softly. All right. That managed to get his attention. His jeans tightened by the slightest measure, but still. He got this hard when he saw a 1969 Dodge Charger in mint condition. Shit. Maybe he needed to see his doctor about low testosterone or something.
“Did she leave a number or anything?” he interrupted, a strange sensation now crawling over his skull. Muscles clenched in his stomach.
“Nope. She bounced like a ball when I said you weren’t here.”
“Call me immediately if she comes back,” he said.
Paul laughed. “That’s what I’ve been doing. Try answering the phone next time. And oh, I did mention where you were.”
"You did?" Alaric asked.
"Yep. I'm sure she understands you just wanted some me time," Paul said and chuckled.
There wasn’t much Alaric could say to that. He hung up, sliding the phone back into his pocket. His mind was still on the conversation. If Vanessa had come to see him, then it had to be about the case. Something must have come up…. Or happened again. He knew about the shooting, but he had been on another case when the police arrived so he'd just gone through her statement.
"Are you okay?” Racheal asked, startling him.
He blinked and nodded.
“Then come join me. I’m getting lonely over here.”
Without thinking about it, he stood and slowly made his way over to the chaise longue. When he looked down at Racheal, it wasn’t her he saw. The picture that formed in his mind?
Kneeling on the longue was Mrs Vanessa Spencer. Except her hair was down, falling around her face in dark waves. The glasses were on. He liked the glasses. And now Alaric was hard as a fucking brick wall. Good news? His dick worked. Bad news? Shit. There was a lot of bad in this.
Racheal’s gaze dipped below his belt, and her eyes lit up. “That for me?”
Uh. No. He opened his mouth, but the door swung open unexpectedly and his chin jerked up, eyes narrowing. No one in this club would barge into any of these rooms unless they were invited. There were rules, for chrissakes, and…
Holy shit.
In the dim red glow of the small overhead light, a slight form appeared like an apparition, straight out of the shadows and out of his fantasies.
Mrs Spencer stood just inside the room, clenching a folder to her chest like some kind of shield. Behind her glasses, her eyes moved from him to Racheal and back again. A pink blush bled into her cheeks, and screw him, he got harder.
Her expression remained cool, though, as she cleared her throat. “We need to talk.”
—---------
Anyone who had ever met Vanessa Spencer and was around her for ten minutes would agree that she was determined and impatient. Those two things made for a nasty combination.
And could lead to really awkward situations.
When she’d gone to the station and was told that Alaric wasn’t there, she'd been disappointed and while Leather and Lace had been a shot in the dark, it had been one she’d been willing to take. She was worried and scared, and there was no time to waste when there was someone somewhere trying to kill her or do God knows what.
Leather and Lace was nothing more than a sex club fronting as a regular nightclub, and as much as Vanessa wanted to be disgusted by the whole thing, she couldn’t help the slight wiggle of curiosity whenever she thought about the place and what went on inside the rooms on the second floor. Were there really people hooking up and engaging in all kinds of sexual play inside? Well, now she knew for sure.
Her gaze crawled between Alaric and the barely dressed woman on her hands and knees. Vanessa doubted she was searching for a missing contact lens dressed in a corset and little else. Unless her clothing had fallen off in the process.
Vanessa's stare lingered on the woman’s chest, and she suddenly felt like she was rocking a training bra. Christ on a crutch, were those things real? Her gaze finally drifted up to the woman’s face and something about the pretty features was familiar… Holy fuck balls, wasn’t she a district attorney? Oh my.Alaric cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him. “We need to talk? Right now?” he asked. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Good God, this man…His dark brown hair was messy, and his broad shoulders seemed bigger now. His cheekbones were well defined and high, setting off a strong jawline and wide, expressive lips. The man was built like a heavyweight boxer.Her gaze traveled down his throat, over the gap in his shirt at his neck, and then down his arms. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing powerful forearms and large hands.“Mrs Spencer?” Amusement colored Alaric's voice.Heat flooded her cheeks. Dear God, was she flustered? She was never flustered. An obno
Irritation pricked at her skin, mostly at herself for becoming so frazzled. “I have a problem.”When his brows shot up, she wanted to smack herself in the face with the file folder. Had she lost brain cells somewhere between entering this room and right now? Fuck. “I received a threatening letter… Or note I guess,"Alaric didn’t respond, so she shoved the file folder toward him, which wasn’t very far, since he was in her personal space. He didn’t take it, and her irritation grew into frustration. “It's in here," “Okay.” He drew out the word as his gaze dipped. But not to her hands. To her chest.Vanessa didn’t know what to think or say at that point. She was a logical woman. A minute ago, he had had a woman in here who had two baby butts for boobs and she was barely a B cup. Not to mention there was no way in holy hell he could see her goods. She was wearing a white blouse buttoned straight up to her chin and a suit jacket. Unless he had x-ray vision, he was just being an ass.Strug
"This… That was… That is so inappropriate that I don’t even know where to begin.” She reached up, taking off her glasses. For the briefest second, he saw her face for the first time without them before she placed them back on. His eyes narrowed. Just what did she see in Christopher Wesley that made her marry him, he wondered. She stared at him for a good half a minute and then exploded like a bottle rocket. “For fuck’s sake, talking to you is impossible! Fucking forget I even came here, because this was the most pointless trip I’ve ever made in the history of fucking forever! And just so you know, you're the worst Detective I've ever met in my life. It's a wonder how you manage to keep your job since the only thing you're good at is making false accusations, and being a shitty person.”He blinked, surprised by her outburst. And turned on—completely, 100 percent rocking a raging hard-on. There was definitely something wrong with that, but he wasn’t surprised. He liked his women mouthy
The whole lower part of the steering wheel had been torn open, wires exposed and dangling like little red and blue snakes.“Oh my God,” she whispered, slowly shaking her head. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Anger poured into her chest, causing her hand to tighten around the keys until the metal dug into flesh. Someone had done this to her car—her property. No way in hell did she believe this was coincidental. It had to be the asshole behind the note, and…Icy fear snapped at the heels of her fury. Her breath came out in a ragged exhale. The person who had done this could still be here, ting and watching. Oh my God. Her heart jumped in her chest painfully. Backing away from her car door, she scanned the darkness ahead of her.She swallowed, but the knot of fear made it difficult. She was out here, alone, and if someone wanted—A heavy hand landed on her shoulder.Shrieking, she spun around, dropping the folder and throwing out her hand that held the key-shank she’d created.“
He stepped away and opened his mouth, but then seemed to rethink what he was about to say. He finally checked out her car, frowning when he saw her open door. As he moved forward, she gulped in air and ignored the smidgen of disappointment.“What in the hell?” he said, facing her car fully. Gripping the door, he bent at the waist. “Looks like you lost a windshield.”She rolled her eyes. “No shit.”He cast a look over his shoulders that would’ve sent men running in the opposite direction. Vanessa made a face. “The sarcasm isn’t necessary,” he said before turning back to her car. “Man, they did a number on this baby. Looks like someone was trying to get himself a free ride.”She snorted. “You must be the muscle and not the brains. I guess Paul is the brains in the team then.”Again, he shot her another dark look, which she ignored.“Ten minutes ago I told you that I received a threatening note. Do you really think those two things aren’t connected? Wait. Don’t bother answering, because
There didn’t appear to be any security cameras at the garage entrance or inside, at least none that was obvious and would deter potential perpetrators. The lighting sucked in the garage, making it easy for anyone to be hiding. He didn’t like any of it.As he parked the truck and killed the engine, he looked over at her. “Are you doing okay?” The question made him strangely uncomfortable because he shouldn't care. She finally met his gaze and nodded curtly. “I’m fine.”That was debatable.Clearing her throat, she reached for the door handle. “Thank you for taking me home.” She said, “I came all this way, so I’m going to check out your apartment.”She was out of his truck with surprising quickness, slamming the door. He cursed under his breath and climbed out, finding her standing near his side, hand extended.“I’m going to need the note, please.” Her voice was clipped, professional, and cool.His eyes narrowed. Instead of handing it over, he walked around her and headed toward the en
Wondering who actually took the time to get personalized stationery made, he pulled out the note and unfolded it. It was definitely a match. The word was written in childish, blockish handwriting. His eyes met hers. Part of him wanted to tell her that it could be coincidental. But he was a logical man. Unless Vanessa wrote the note and threw the rock through her own windshield, someone had slipped into her apartment at some point and retrieved the stationery from her desk. That had to be taken seriously. Vanessa fixed her glasses, her bottom lip trembling as she spoke. “Someone’s been in my apartment.” His chest tightened as real fear snaked up his spine. “I think it’s time that I look at those notes.” —------- So many different emotions swirled through Vanessa as she sat in her living room, watching Alaric pore over the notes in her kitchen. Anger. Frustration. Fear. They mingled together, causing her to go from furious to terrified in seconds and giving her one fierce headac
Finally, he pulled a chair over and eyed the air- conditioning vent in the ceiling. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a pocket knife and used it to remove the screws. “Got it,” he declared. He took out a small camera, examining it with interest. “Pretty damn sophisticated. We need to look for these in the rest of the house.” That said, he got down from the chair, dropped the camera on the floor and crunched it to pieces under his boot.It turned out there were six more cameras placed in vents all through the house. The one in her bedroom bothered her the worst, though she supposed she should count her blessings that Alaric didn’t find one in her bathroom.He destroyed every single camera. “I wonder how long this SOB has been watching you.” His voice simmered with anger.“I don’t know.” She caught herself about to chew on her fingernail, a habit she’d broken herself of years ago. “But right now, I need to figure out a place to go. I want out of here.”“Shh.” He put his finger again