Deadly Desire (8 page)

Emma was none of those things. She was too innocent, too sweet, too wide-eyed and wanting more. And a part of me wanted to show exactly what I could give her.

The window before me had a minuscule scratch from where Emma’s fingernails had dug into the glass when I’d fucked her hard. I’d only meant to distract her, but my cock got the better of me when her pussy had been so wet from my touch. She’d felt so good.

Sighing, I stood. I needed to get this girl out of my head.

My phone rang, and I lifted the receiver to my ear in an irritated sweep. I’d told my receptionist I didn’t want to be disturbed right now, and I was almost out the door to go home.

“Pierce?”

I narrowed my eyes. This was one woman I certainly never wanted to see or hear from again. “Tell me what you want, Rachel.”

She could be calling about those photos, but Chase had said he wasn’t quite ready to confront her about them yet. Of course, I was starting to wonder exactly what was going through my little brother’s head these days…

“A woman just called here asking after Chase’s relatives,” she said in a clipped tone. “Did you have something to do with this?”

The world seemed to freeze around me. I couldn’t be hearing her right. “Explain exactly what happened, Rachel.”

“What I just said.” She sighed into the phone. “Some woman called from a New York number. Said she was looking into Donovan genealogy. You really had nothing to do with this?”

“You should know by now I’d protect Chase at all costs. You’d do well to remember that yourself.”

There was a moment of silence while my words sunk into Rachel’s head. I shouldn’t have said them of course, but my whole body felt on edge at the thought of someone trying to look into Chase’s past. Rachel didn’t even know the full story, and she’d been married to him for five years. If I had anything to do with it, she’d never know more than she did.

“Is that some kind of threat, Pierce?” she asked, her voice cool. “What were you doing at the club the other night anyway? Spying on me again? You know he’ll never believe you over me.”

We’ll see about that
, I thought with a smirk. She had no idea Chase had seen those photos, and I wished I could see the look on her face when she found out.

“Give me the number who called you,” I said instead, mind zeroing back in on the issue. “And I’ll look into it.”

Rachel rattled off the number and hung up the phone without saying goodbye. I slammed down the receiver and glared. Chase would be so much better off when he got rid of that woman once and for all. In the meantime…

I frowned at the number Rachel had given me. I didn’t have to look it up to know who it belonged to. I’d been right in my hunch. No genealogy expert would randomly call my little brother to get details on the Donovans. No, the call had come from Max Weather’s office. Emma Berry had been very busy.

My roommate, Cynthia, brought me a cup of tea and curled up on the other end of the couch. We’d both had pretty crappy days, and vegging out in front of the TV seemed like the only option for sanity. I hadn’t told her what had happened with Pierce. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see the look on her face when I told her I’d slept with him again. It’d been a really stupid mistake. One I definitely wouldn’t be making again.

Especially with his strange connection to the murder.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of what I’d found. One thing was for sure though—Pierce knew the woman somehow. She was married to a Donovan, a man who must be Pierce’s relative. It would explain why he wanted evidence of her affair, but was that enough of a reason for him to want Michael Astor dead?

I shivered and took a sip of the hot liquid. It soothed some of my nerves while Cynthia picked out a show to watch. She flicked through the channels, and when she got to the news, I held out a hand for her to pause. It was yet another report about Michael Astor’s murder.

“Reports are in that Michael Astor’s death happened at approximately 11:15 p.m. on Tuesday night.”

Every hair on my skin stood to attention, and blood roared in my ears. That had been only moments after I’d followed Michael Astor and that Rachel woman and taken photos of them on the street. As soon as he’d gotten home…but then did that mean Pierce wasn’t involved after all? Wouldn’t that mean the man had died way before I’d given Pierce those photos?

I couldn’t just sit on this information.

A heavy knock sounded on the door, and I jumped. Cynthia turned to me, and her eyebrows shot up to her forehead. She glanced down at her rumpled t-shirt and yoga pants. My outfit wasn’t much better, and my long hair was twirled into a messy bun on my head.

“You expecting anyone?” she asked, glancing at the clock. We never had visitors, but especially not after ten o’clock.

“Nope.” I stood and padded over to the door, peering through the peephole. When I saw who was on the other side, I jumped back and slammed into the tiny table by the entrance where we tossed our keys.

“What’s wrong?” Cynthia asked, dropping her voice to a hiss and tip-toeing over to where I stood staring at the door, my face drained of all feeling. He couldn’t be here. Not now. Not here. How did he even know where I lived?

“It’s Pierce,” I hissed back. “Donovan. The guy I…”

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes widening. “Open it.”

I shook my head, and my hair almost sprang free from its elastic band. Cynthia didn’t know the full story. There was no way I could see him now. I wasn’t sure I
wanted
to see him ever again. Still…what I’d just heard on the news made me wonder what he might have to say. At the time of Michael Astor’s death, Pierce would have been back at the club doing…whatever it was guys like him did when they went out on the town.

Rolling her eyes, Cynthia opened the door and disappeared out of the room before I could stop her. I held my breath and turned to see Pierce glowering at me from the hallway. He didn’t look very happy, though it was hard to pin down exactly why. His expression was as cool and composed as it normally was, but something like danger flickered in his eyes.

I took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” he said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I got a phone call today. It turns out someone has been playing private investigator.”

Ah crap. The woman on the phone—Rachel Donovan—must have given him a heads up about my call. “Listen, I can explain.”

“I don’t want you to explain.” His crossed his arms over his broad chest and clenched his jaw. “I want you to stay out of it. Don’t pry into my business.”

“I only did it because I needed some answers, and it’s not like you gave me any when I came to see you today.”

“Oh, I gave you some answers.” His eyes went dark. “Now agree you’ll stay out of it. I don’t want to be angry with you, Emma, but this is non-negotiable.”

Sighing, I shook my head. A part of me felt like I should be angry he came barging into my apartment unannounced, demanding I obey him no questions asked. But another was too tired to put up a fight. If he wanted to keep his secrets, fine. At least they didn’t concern me if the story on the news was correct. As long as my photos had nothing to do with the murder, then we could go our own separate ways, just the way he wanted.

“Okay, if that’s what you want,” I said with a shrug.

He cocked his head, clearly surprised. “I expected you to put up more of a fight.”

“Well, I just saw the news. Michael Astor was killed before I even gave you the photos, so it looks like I was wrong to jump to conclusions.”

Pierce looked legitimately surprised before he painted over his shock with his trademark stone mask. Interesting. He so rarely showed emotion that whatever I’d seen just now must have been real. But why would he be so shocked? Something still wasn’t adding up, and I couldn’t land on an explanation that made much sense.

“You took the photos Tuesday night and gave them to me Wednesday morning. You’re saying his death happened during that timeframe.”

“Yeah, they estimate his time of death to be about ten minutes after I saw him.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes, and he strode toward me with his hands clenched by his sides, his body radiating anger. I sucked in a sharp breath and tried to step back, but he gripped my arm to hold me there. I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip, digging his fingers into my skin.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Let go.”

“Listen to me right now,” he said, dropping his voice low. “You need to pack a bag and come with me.”

My mouth dropped opened. There was no way I could have heard that right.

“Emma, listen.” He shook me, forcing me to look up into his intense dark eyes. “Something’s not right, and you need to come with me. Now.”

A tear stung my eye as I tried to make sense of what was going on. “You’re scaring me, Pierce. Please let go. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Think about it,” he said in a growl. “You were there out on the street following Astor and taking photos of him. Whoever killed him most likely saw you. They might wonder what’s on that camera of yours.”

The realization of his words crashed over me, and my blood began to pound in my ears. Pierce was right. Anyone could have seen me, especially the killer. And he might think I’d gotten a shot of him just before he’d done the deed.

“You’re going to come and stay with me until the police find the killer. Do you understand?”

I blinked up at him, still unable to comprehend what he was saying. “Stay with you?”

“This is all my fault. I was the one who got you involved.” He gave me a fierce nod. “The safest place you could be is with me.”

As I stood there in Pierce’s fancy living room, I realized I had no idea what I was doing. He’d somehow talked me into packing a bag and coming with him back to his place. He’d been insistent, and his worry about my safety was almost endearing. Until we got there, and I remembered what staying in his apartment really meant.

Besides, I couldn’t really be in danger, could I? Even if the murderer had seen me taking photos, that didn’t mean he’d think I saw anything. Because I hadn’t. I’d turned right around and gone home, totally unaware that anyone was about to get shot.

I shivered as I stared out at the sparkling city lights through Pierce’s apartment windows. Somehow, in the matter of days, my new Manhattan life had got turned one hundred percent upside down. I’d come here to carve out a new life, but it was quickly becoming the life I’d never expected in a million years. And one I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted.

“Are you cold?” Pierce asked, moving to my side and taking my beat-up college duffel bag from my shoulder. It was only half-f. I’d been in such a hurry to leave that I’d only managed to grab enough for two days.

“No.” I hugged my arms to my chest and shook my head. “Just a little freaked out.”

Pierce gave a serious nod. “Understandable. It’s a bit of a shock knowing you could be in danger. But trust me, Emma. You’re very much safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Frowning, I met his gaze. “I’m just not so sure I’m really in danger, Pierce. If the murderer had thought I’d seen him, wouldn’t he have tried to stop me then? And it’s been days since it happened.”

“I’m not sure, Emma.” He twisted me to face him, and I couldn’t help myself as I looked up to meet his serious gaze. A part of me hoped he’d lean down and kiss me hard before carrying me off into his playroom, showing me things I’d never seen and taking my mind off murders and fear. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

I felt like I couldn’t argue with that…

Pierce reached out and placed a hand on my neck before sighing and shaking his head. He stepped away, and I ached to follow him, but the look in his eye gave me pause. “I think we should lay some ground rules for your stay here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I frowned.

“I meant it when I said I brought you here for your protection, Emma.” Pierce gave me the slightest of smiles. “I also meant it when I said I only do one night stands. I’ve already broken that rule for you once, but I think it’s best if we keep things between us strictly platonic while you’re staying here. I don’t want things to get complicated between us.”