Absolution: The Hunter Mercenary Series (Book Two) Page 21
Crass.
Pushy.
Woman.
So as he headed down his drive, through the security gate and toward her vehicle, he hoped he wasn’t going to do anything so ridiculous that he’d regret it.
Well, now that he’d thought that, there was no doubt he would do exactly that.
He’d jinxed himself.
A part of his need to see her was loneliness, but the rest was that he wanted to get back to the job tomorrow, and if she was going to sit outside his home…
Yeah.
Awkward.
So, in order to get a break, he needed to give her something to mull over.
Oh, he knew the type.
Sarah was suspicious.
Dakota was suspicious.
Zayn…he was downright paranoid as fuck.
So, with them, to get them to trust him, he’d given them pieces of himself, and it worked out well.
He’d made friends.
A family.
Now the only thing standing between them and himself was the prickly blonde with the striking blue eyes.
As he was feet from her car, the window rolled down. As he leaned in, she was listening to some rock station and making notes in a paper notebook.
Charming.
It was like she was some old school gumshoe out of some crazy noir novel.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she stated, as he watched her with those sexy eyes. She practically melted to the seat of her cop ride.
Rogue grinned.
It took all he had not to laugh.
“Yes, especially since it’s my home, and I’m beginning to wonder why you didn’t just ring the bell if you wanted my attention.”
She stared at him like he was insane.
Could that have been a possibility? Because she was freezing her ass off, and she’d be out of gas soon and have to head home.
“Uh, for the record, would that have worked? I’m asking for a friend.”
This time he did laugh.
Rogue couldn’t help himself. The way she came across, it boggled his mind why he was attracted to her. Oh, there was no doubt that he was, or he wouldn’t be getting his Italian leather shoes wet.
“Well, civilized people don’t stalk. Civilized people ring a bell. Tell your friend that.”
She reached into her pocket, and it took all he had not to react. He always watched people’s hands. You know…in case they pulled a gun.
Getting shot likely hurt.
He’d like to avoid that at all costs.
When she pulled her badge, he shook his head.
“Oh, the ‘I’m a cop’ defense. Nice one. Well, copper, I happen to own this part of the street too. And about half a mile in each direction. You can’t view the house from the land I don’t own.”
Well, shit!
“Then I’ll be moving along. I’m not surprised. Rich people own it all.”
For some reason, that bothered him.
He hated when that was all people saw. Now he realized that was all Charlotte ever saw when she looked at him too. That was exactly why she had used him.
“Well, again, if you have questions,” he began.
“I do have questions.”
“If you’re going to ask, I prefer it be inside. I’m standing in a puddle holding a metal rod…”
She snorted.
“Okay, Mr. Ravenscroft. I’ll come in.”
“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll kill you too?” he asked, as she opened her car door.
She smiled sweetly.
“Is that a confession?” she asked, dangling her handcuffs from her fingers.
“Is that an offer?” he countered, picturing using them on her.
God!
Why did his libido decide this woman was the one to wake for?
WHY?
WHY?
WHY?
What made it even worse was he saw the blush in the light from her car. He saw it creep up her neck, and the twin one heated his flesh too.
Oh, someone was more than interested in him than a cop versus suspect kind of way.
Well, that helped.
It gave him leverage—not so he could use it against her, but so he could build a bridge to her.
“Are we going to do this?” she asked.
He grinned.
“Oh, I have a feeling we’re going to do a lot of things,” Rogue stated.
“Kinky,” she teased, and it was his turn to blush. He covered it with moving to share the umbrella, but she’d seen it.
Yeah, it was there.
Honestly, Cordelia tried not to find him charming, especially when he opened her door, rolled up her window, and offered her his hand all before tucking her under the umbrella.
What?
The?
Hell?
She was struggling with that cop instinct. Now her brain was telling her to run, but her panties were telling her to stay the hell beside him.
Christ!
This playboy was killing her.
Hopefully, not literally.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, as he led her to the gate, punched in the code, and gave her access to his world.
Cordelia memorized it.
Just in case…
“Well, as a rule of thumb, I don’t take candy from strangers, puppies from vans, or food from someone I’m investigating for murder.”
“Chicken.”
“Are you calling me that, or is that what you’re trying to entice me with, Mr. Ravenscroft?”
He laughed.
It was warm, rich, and hit her right in the…pussy.
Damn it.
Damn.
Damn.
Damn.
“Well, I’m not a fan of chicken, since I prefer a steak, so the former, I guess,” he offered. “Bock, bock, Detective Harding. Bock, bock.”
She stared at him as they moved up the cobblestone drive. He was a challenge, and she really loved a challenge. That was what got her each time.
Men were a dime a dozen, but men who intrigued her. She could count them on one hand.
Him.
He was about it.
“Fine. Dinner it is, but whatever will we talk about?” she asked. “Murder, perhaps.”
“Oh, my very pretty, Ms. Holmes, but how can I resist that enticing offer of dining with you as you pick my brain and judge me a friend or foe?” he asked.
“Will you be Moriarty or Watson?” she asked. “So I know the players.”
He wanted to tell her he was anyone she wanted, but he couldn’t do it. His world…she had no place in it.
It was dangerous for both of them.
“Tonight, I’ll be Watson. Tomorrow, you can go back to thinking I’m Moriarty.”
She was good with that.
“No lies?”
He opened the door for her and invited her even further into his private world. The last woman who got past this point was dead. Charlotte had ruined it for anyone after her. When she’d broken him, he’d sealed off his kingdom.
To be safe.
From feelings.
“I don’t often lie, Detective Harding. There’s no point. Life is what it is, and so are we. You can’t hide your true self for long. People tend to see through lies.”
She was aware.
It was her job to do just that.
When he escorted her inside, she actually whistled at the surroundings.
Yeah, this looked like Mr. Slick to a T.
“Well, holy shit. This…this is something,” she said, staring at the big chandelier, the old wood, and the antiques. “This is not what I was expecting. In fact, it doesn’t look like you.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You’re slick. I can tell by watching you. This isn’t a place you decorated. If it is, then hell, I’m giving up my job. I’ve lost my edge.”
He laughed.
“Grace Ravenscroft.”
“Your mother?”
A man stuck his head into the room,
and she clammed up fast.
“Rogue, dinner in two. Be ready. I hate serving cold food,” he stated.
“We’ll be ready,” he stated.
“Who was that?” Cordelia asked out of curiosity. This whole place was confusing as hell. Antiques, this man, and some bruiser who, apparently, was his butler?
“Joey. He cooks for me.”
She made a mental note. Okay, so not the butler, but the man had a cook?
Christ.
She had a freezer with frozen dinners in it when she was home at night. So, this was how the other half lived.
Well, this was all kinds of wrong. She was pretty sure her salary couldn’t buy a chair in this antique museum.
“Back to my mother,” he stated as he took her coat and hung it in a closet off to the side of the main door. Then he hung his own beside it.
“What does she have to do with your home?” she asked.
Oh, that was simple.
It was, the essence, of who he was in life.
“She’s a Ravenscroft. The family is known for its furniture company. She decorated this house. I let her because…why not? She’s my mother. Do you like it?” he asked, curious if she’d tell him the truth.
No one usually did.
Well, no one but Sarah. She told him to burn it to the ground, get the insurance money, and rebuild it in the current century.
And that was why he loved her.
Honesty mattered to him.
“Well?” he asked when it took her a while to answer him.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s gorgeous, Mr. Ravenscroft, but it doesn’t seem like you—as a person.”
She was right.
And she hadn’t lied. Already, he wanted to be more honest with her, and share a part of him. Her truthfulness was refreshing.
He led her to the dining room.
She stared in there too.
“Does that table have twenty chairs around it?”
“No. It has twenty-four.”
“I don’t think I know twenty-four people who I’d like to eat with,” she admitted.
“Maybe one?” he asked.
She blushed again.
Rogue felt his dick actually twitch at the sweetness behind that action. She smelled like gardenias, had a N’awlins accent, and blushed.
Shit!
HE.
WAS.
SCREWED.
Or he hoped so.
His brain was screaming that he should escort her right out the door and avoid her like the plague. Instead, he led her to a chair, pulled it out, and then pushed her into the table.
“I don’t know how to process this,” she stated, as the man came in with two bowls of soup.
“The first course is bisque. It’s always good on a chilly night,” Joey stated.
Rogue dropped his napkin over his lap and waited for her to begin eating her soup.
He opted to help her relax.
“Joey looks like he belongs at a greasy spoon, but he makes the best food.”
“Really?” she asked.
He smiled.
“Try it.”
She did.
Her stomach sang a symphony of things she’d never experienced before. It was beyond the best.
It was amazing.
“It’s delicious,” she stated, noticing he was watching her. Those eyes were focused on her, and she felt helpless around him.
“Are you a magician?” she asked out of the blue, needing to know.
He scrunched up his brow.
“Uh, no.”
“Are you by any chance a sorcerer?”
He laughed as soon as she asked it. Oh, he made things disappear for a living, only, he wasn’t going there with her. She was a cop, and he wasn’t an idiot.
“Nope.”
“Okay.”
“Why do you ask?” he inquired.
“How did you get me in here? Really? Why am I in here? I smell a setup.”
“Again, I’m polite. You’re cold, and you’re pigheaded enough that you were going to sit outside all-night and get sick. It’s cold tonight. I invited, and you said yes.”
She stared at him suspiciously.
“I have excellent lying radar. If you bullshit me, I will know,” she stated.
Oh, he took that as a challenge. He was the king of bullshit, and he handed it out to a lot of people as he stole them blind.
None of them had been any the wiser.
He wondered if she would be.
“Can we have dinner before you grill me?” he asked. “Then you’re free to ask any questions you’d like. I don’t get to eat dinner often with a beautiful woman.”
Her spoon paused halfway to her mouth as if he’d not only caught her off guard but committed a cardinal sin.
“Pardon?” she asked.
He stared at her.
The mood in the room shifted, and he didn’t understand why it had. Rogue had been honest.
Wasn’t that what she wanted?
“I just think you’re beautiful.”
She stood, her chair sliding back as she moved away from the table.
“It’s not going to work,” she stated.
Now he was shocked and intrigued by this outburst. It was out of place, and unexpected.
“What exactly isn’t going to work?” he asked, staring at her like she was insane. Rogue couldn’t tell where this was going, and that said a lot.
He read people daily.
“THIS!”
She was horrified. This man was going to play some seduction game to get her to back off. She knew his type. This wasn’t about her. This was about him charming her off his tail.
“Again, I need more than ‘this’. What has you so angry all of a sudden?” he asked.
“This game of yours that you’re playing. You invite me in, you play this game, and then you want me so tied up in knots over you that I back off.”
He stared at her.
WHAT?
Where the hell did that come from?
Rogue wasn’t playing this game. This was what she’d thrown down, and he was simply being a gentleman.
“I can’t be bribed.”
That insulted him.
“So, me being kind to a cop when she’s staked outside my home on a cold night is me trying to bribe you? Me being nice and planning to answer your questions is me having some nefarious plan? Me telling you that you’re attractive is some ploy?”
“Isn’t it, Mr. Ravenscroft?” she asked.
“I pity you,” he said out of the blue, “and that’s not something I do often.”
“What?” she asked.
“First, Detective, I don’t charm women out of their pants, their mission, or anything else for that matter. I was raised by Grace Ravenscroft. Know what she was doing in the seventies other than getting herself knocked up by a Native man?”
She didn’t move.
The anger was there.
“She was burning her bra and standing up for women’s rights. So, postulate how she raised me.”
Cordelia had been so tied up in knots she’d screwed-up. She’d made him mad, and that was dangerous.
She swallowed, and then prepared to answer him, but he kept talking.
“I respect women, and even if I hated Charlotte Shaw more than anything in the world, I wouldn’t have hurt her. I couldn’t have hurt her. That’s not me. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“But you had a relationship with her.”
“Yes, and she broke a part of me. When she died, I found out that during our year together, she had my child and never told me,” he stated, staying seated.
She watched his eyes.
They told her everything.
The man wasn’t lying.
“She kept my daughter a secret, and the week after she died, my child was dumped here by someone on Charlotte’s orders. Still, even after that, I couldn’t kill her. I pitied her too.”
“So, she was the ‘her’ in the text
message?” she asked.
That confused him.
“I have NO idea what you’re talking about,” he stated. “All I know is my child was a secret. I didn’t know about her until after her death. Would I have killed her for that?”
“Would you have?”
“No, but I would have had a fleet of attorneys take her to court, get custody of my child, and get her away from Charlotte. She was involved in dirty things, and that’s why she was killed.”
She moved closer to the table, risking his anger. After all, she’d provoked him.
“I am NOT a killer. Oh, I’m many things, but I don’t charm women for sex. When I want it, and IF I want it, I can procure a woman without having to lie to her.”
“She really hurt you.”
He closed his eyes, and when they opened, the rage was gone. He was back in control.
“Yes.”
She sat.
“I’m sorry. I spend my days with the worst of people, and that makes me expect the worst.”
“I was pointing out a fact. You are beautiful. Surely, you’ve heard it before.”
She stared at him but said nothing. No one had ever called her that without wanting something in return. It spoke volumes of the men in her past.
Clearly.
She kept staring as Joey brought out the second course. It was steak, and it was huge.
“Thank you,” Rogue stated, calmer than he had been. “Give us some time before dessert.”
Joey headed out.
“I’ve been in love once in my life. It was with Charlotte. Only, she and my mother did not mesh. After getting to know her, my mother told me to run. I didn’t listen. I stayed and tried to make it work. I found out, after Charlotte’s death, that not only did she have my child, but she used me along the way, stealing business contacts.”
She cut into her steak and listened. He was being honest, and that, too, for her was rare.
People lied to her all of the time.
Rogue Ravenscroft wasn’t lying.
“She betrayed me, and my mother was right. So, you can follow me around, sit outside my home, or play Sherlock Holmes, but you won’t find any connection that I killed her. I didn’t. I paid for a round of drinks at that hidden bar the night she was killed.”
She weighed her options.
“She died at eleven. Can you prove that you were there?” she asked.
“I guess my word isn’t enough,” he said, tiredly as he pulled out his phone and pulled up his checking account tied to his debit card. He handed it to her.
“Uh, what’s this?” she asked.