Designed for Murder (Killer Style) (11 page)

She inhaled sharply and ground down against his hand, exhaling with a plaintive moan. “I want to come now.”

“Do you,
mi cielo
?” He twisted his wrist, turning his fingers inside her and sliding his thumb up the side of her clit without even lessening the pressure against the point of her pleasure. “Then you should come.”

The world shrank down to the two of them as he watched her give in to the moment. She rocked against him once, twice, and came apart in his arms. Her entire body tightened, and he swallowed her scream in his kiss, his lips covering hers. He licked, nibbled, and tasted her as she came down from the peak.

“That was amazing.” She stepped back out of his grasp and held up the compact foil square. “But tell me we’re not done.”

He stood and reached out for her, unable to not be touching her for even a moment. “Not by a long shot.” He grasped her hips and spun her around so she faced the back of the couch, then bent her over and pressed her against it. “What do you want?”

“You to fuck me.”

“Like this?” He pressed up against her, letting his dick rest on her ass. “So the couch presses against you while I’m filling your sweet pussy with my cock?”

She rocked back, and his hardness slid against her soft skin. “Yes.”

He rolled on the condom and lined up his dick with her glistening core. “Mika…”

“Don’t you dare stop.” She pushed back against him, and he forgot what he was about to say.

His forearm pressed against her lower back, pressing her down as he drove home, sheathing himself in her tight walls in one long stroke. “
Mi cielo
,” he whispered with all the awe and reverence he had.

It wasn’t just that fucking her was heaven. It was her.
Mika
was his heaven. He withdrew and plunged in again and again, and each time she clung to him like they were made for each other. The angle let him go deeper than he had before, and he rubbed the head of his cock against her G-spot each time he thrust forward into her.

“Carlos,” she cried as she arched her back. “Please.”

He couldn’t deny her even if he wanted to. She felt too good, too perfect. “Yes,
mi cielo.
”

Her clit was a hard nub underneath his fingertips as he moved them up and down on either side of it in time with the motion of his cock. She held him tight, and he knew neither of them was going to last much longer.

“That’s it.” He withdrew and then plunged forward, watching as he disappeared inside her. “Take it in.” Back and thrusting forward again. “Take it deep.” So tight, so warm, she accepted him. “Take all of me.”

He pinched his fingers together, trapping her clit between them, and then released and reapplied pressure in a fast rhythm that had Mika sighing in ecstasy underneath him.

“I’m going to come,” she cried.

“Yes.” He increased his pace, pushing her—pushing them both—to the precipice. “I want to feel you come all over my dick.”

She screamed out his name and bucked against him as the orgasm washed over her. Holding him captive inside her, she squeezed so tight he couldn’t hold off the inevitable anymore. He drove forward, sinking himself to the hilt and coming so hard the world turned into pure, bright light with Mika at the center.

When he came back to himself, he gathered her in his arms and picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, aftershocks of her climax still rolling through her and making her quiver in his arms as he carried her around to the front of the couch. The sun had set, leaving them in semi-darkness in the studio as he sank down and pulled her close and draped the blanket over the top of them. She laid her damp cheek in the pocket of his shoulder. It was as close to perfect as he’d ever known—before or after Ivy.

Still, even as beautiful as it was, it couldn’t last. They were opposites thrown together by circumstance, and as soon as the case was over, that excuse would disappear. He wasn’t a forever guy, and she deserved more than to be a booty call.

He hadn’t realized until this moment how hellish heaven could be. “Mika…”

“Don’t say it.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “I know we agreed that this was temporary, but for tonight let’s just pretend we’re closer to the beginning than to the end.”

He’d given up role-playing games just for this reason, because pretending felt so fucking good. Like there was still hope in the world. Like there was still hope for him. But he couldn’t deny Mika. He was afraid he never would.

“Go to sleep,
mi cielo.
” He kissed her temple. “We’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes.”

Thoughts of what it would be like if it wasn’t pretend swirled around his mind as his eyes grew tired and drooped closed. He should’ve been thinking about the case, about what to tell Reggie and how they’d catch the douchey drug dealer Roger, but Mika shifted in his arms, dragging his thoughts from business to personal. And then sleep crowded out the thoughts in his head until all he could see was Mika in his dreams.

So he slept.

A door slammed, jolting him from deep sleep. The inky darkness of one in the morning shrouded the room. For three heartbeats, he thought it had all been a trick of the night. Then the lights flashed on, temporarily blinding him.

“Isn’t this fucking sweet?” a man said.

Carlos didn’t need his sight to know that voice: Roger.

He sat up and shoved Mika behind him.

Chapter Twelve

“Character. Intelligence. Strength. Style. That makes beauty.”

—Diane Von Furstenberg

H
er heart lodged in her throat, Mika pushed against the solid muscle of Carlos’s nake
d back and rose up to a sitting position so she could see what was going on. A smaller man stood next to Roger, his face covered by a mask while Roger’s was uncovered. She watched enough crime TV to know that wasn’t a good sign. He was going to kill them.

Pushing back the fear trying to paralyze her, she took quick stock of the situation like she would during a Magic Battledome confrontation. She and Carlos were both buck naked on the couch without even a belt nearby to use as a whip. His gun was on the desk halfway between the bad guys and the door. Between the two of them, they had a blanket and nothing to lose.

Every instinct in her screamed for her to fight, and her muscles tensed in anticipation. She was fast. She could get to the gun before the other men, and surprise was on her side. As if he could hear the plan forming in her mind, Carlos reached back and covered her thigh with his hand. He gave her a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.

“Lookie what we have here.” Roger sneered at them as he strolled forward, his eyes on them instead of the gun half hidden on the desk. “I knew when you spent more than five minutes with me for the first time in the history of man that you were onto my trail. Then I found this under my office desk.” He tossed a wad of gum with something that looked like a tiny black box stuck to it on the floor. “A listening device? How basic. And now here we are all together again—this time without the subterfuge.” He shrugged. “I’ve got to say, the view here is much better than in my office. Don’t you think, Carlos? She is a sweet piece of ass.”

Carlos sprang to his feet, his hands fisted. “Don’t you ever talk about her that way.”

Roger met the move with a grin that bordered on crazed. He puffed up his chest and rolled his shoulders. “Ready for round two,
hermano
? No police are coming to your rescue this time like they did in the alley.”

“Enough,” the second man said, his voice a sharpened knife cutting through the night.

No one moved. Panic burned against Mika’s lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Then Roger laughed and relaxed his stance. Carlos followed suit.

“You’re right. We’re just here for the fabric,” Roger said, turning his attention to Mika, as if Carlos wasn’t a threat. “Tell us where it is and I promise nothing will happen to you.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Carlos said, taking a menacing step forward.

Roger smirked and withdrew a gun from his waistband. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Terror slammed against Mika. She vaulted off the couch, wrapping the blanket around her naked body like a shield. “How did you find us?” The words rushed out as fast as her pulse pounded against her skin.

She may not have known that Roger was a drug dealer, but she did know he loved the sound of his own voice. He’d distract himself before he could take aim at Carlos.

Irritation flashed in Roger’s eyes, but true to form he couldn’t resist. “Darling, Harbor City is a small world, especially the fashion community. Once I discovered the fabric wasn’t in your loft, it was only a matter of time until I found your new studio. Lucky me, you and your playmate came right to me. I played along until you left, and then it was just a case of having an associate follow you here. Finding the bug later was the icing on the cake. I would have come immediately, but he insisted on waiting.”

The gun was loose in Roger’s hand, but the intent remained. It hung in the air like a rotting stink that couldn’t be covered up with perfume. Carlos edged closer, angling his body so he stood between her and Roger. For as bad of a man as Carlos considered himself, his actions told a different story. She couldn’t let him sacrifice himself for her, and she couldn’t risk the friends who’d become targets because of a mistake she’d made in taking the wrong fabric. Whatever it took—whatever she needed to do—she would protect anyone she loved from being harmed again.

She shifted so she stood next to instead of behind Carlos. “What do you want?”

“The fabric,” the masked man said, his voice low and soft but somehow familiar. “Give it up and you’ll never see us again.”

Carlos cut a glance at her, the don’t-believe-him look on his face confirming her own gut instinct that the masked man was lying.

“It’s not here,” Carlos said as he repositioned himself in front of her again.

“Bullshit.” Roger sneered. “I can only assume the line he used to get between your legs was better than that lie.”

Ignoring the meaningless barb, she turned her attention to the masked man who held Roger’s invisible leash. “If we give you the fabric, you’ll drop this? You won’t go after anyone else?”

The masked man bent down, picked up Carlos’s T-shirt from the floor, and tossed it to her. “You have my word.”

She slipped the material on. Carlos’s scent clung to it, and the feel of him around her gave her the strength to make this deal with the devil. It twisted her insides to do it, but she had to protect the people who were more family to her than friends. She’d failed to protect her family before. She wouldn’t a second time. The police would take care of the drug dealers. Her responsibility was to her family.

“Don’t do it,” Carlos said under his breath.

“I have to.” Seeing the censure in his eyes punctured her heart, but her decision was made.

C
arlos eyed his nine-millimeter lying on the desk and gauged his chances. The open laptop was blocking the gun from Roger’s view. If he timed it right, he could grab it before Mika got to the cabinet holding t
he bolt of drug-tainted fabric. He
had
to get it before she got there. The dealers couldn’t walk out of here with it. God knew how many people would suffer if the cocaine hit the street.

He balanced his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to spring to action. The plan unfolded in his mind at a rapid pace, just like it always had when he’d faced an opponent in Magic Battledome. Dash to the desk. Grab the gun. Spin. Put Roger in his sights. Get off a shot before Roger had a chance to fire. Pivot. Take out the masked man. The odds weren’t in his favor, but he could do it.

Movement in his peripheral vision pulled his focus. Mika was nearly to the cabinet. What if Roger fired at her instead? Torn between the greater good of making sure the drugs never made it out of the studio and the possibility of Mika being hurt, he hesitated.

“You don’t want to do that.” The masked man crossed to the desk and picked up the nine-millimeter with his gloved hands. “You both can get out of here if you play it right.”

Fuck. He was naked, unarmed, and out of options. “And the people on the street who buy your shit?” Carlos asked, already searching for another way out of this and coming up empty.

The masked man shrugged. “We all make choices.”

“Why do you even care?” Roger asked, his gun aimed right at Carlos’s head. “It’s not like you’re going to see the sunrise.”

Mika spun on her heel and ran toward him. He held up his hand to hold her off. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hit in the crossfire.

“Stand down,” the masked man yelled.

Roger shook his head, and his face had turned a molten, angry red. “He’s seen my face.”

“Like I said before…” The masked man raised the nine-millimeter, pointing it at Roger’s head. “We all make choices. Yours was to walk in here without a mask.”

He pulled the trigger, and the shot boomed in the studio. Mika screamed. The metallic scent of blood filled the room. Roger’s body hit the ground. Carlos took a running leap in her direction, curling his arms around her and covering her like a human shield, ready for whatever came next as long as she was safe.

But nothing happened. He looked up. The desk hid Roger’s corpse from view, but blood and brains splattered the wall.

“Roger was an idiot and a loose end. I’m not going to shoot you,” the masked man said. “As long as you do what I want, I’ll walk away and never look back.” His finger moved back to the trigger, and he adjusted his aim, pointed the gun at them. “If you don’t, I’ll kill her while you watch. You’ll see her take her last breath, and then I’ll tear this place apart until I find it. Either way, I’m taking the fabric.”

Understanding settled like an ice block against his chest. Carlos couldn’t have it both ways. He had to pick. Mika twisted in his grasp, looking up at him with a mix of fear and determination in her eyes.
Mi cielo.
My heaven. But she wasn’t his and never would be.

“I’ll get the fabric.” Carlos unwound himself from around Mika and walked to the cabinet. The bolt of tainted fabric was lighter than expected but still awkward at nearly six feet tall.

“Put it on the couch. Then sit down on the floor.” The masked man pushed the barrel of the nine-millimeter against Mika’s head. “Don’t get any ideas.”

A red haze ate away at the edges of Carlos’s vision. “Leave her alone.” He wanted nothing more at that moment than to wrap his fingers around the man’s neck and choke the life out of him.

Ignoring him, the masked man kept the gun against Mika’s skull as he brought out a handful of zip ties from his pocket. He dropped them near Mika’s feet. “Get your ankles first.”

Her hands shook as she wrapped the skinny plastic around her ankles, threaded it, and pulled it tight. Impotent to do anything but watch as long as the other man had the gun on Mika, Carlos took in every detail he could about the man, from the way he favored his left leg to his narrow shoulders to the faded scar at the base of his throat peeking out from the bottom of the ski mask. It might not be much, but Carlos would find a way to track him down. This wasn’t over. If it was the last thing he did, Carlos would track him down and see justice delivered.

“Now your wrists.” After she complied, he waved Carlos over to sit next to her. “Your turn.”

Not liking it one little bit, Carlos followed orders the whole time, searching for an opening to exploit, but the man wasn’t taking any chances and the gun never lost contact with Mika’s head. Carlos sat next to Mika, and a pair of zip ties fell onto his lap.

“Put them on,” the man said.

He looked down at the plastic zip ties. His gut clenched. He couldn’t fucking do it. He fisted his hands and tensed to jump up. A flash of black in his periphery. Mika’s scream. Pain exploded above his temple and knocked his brains loose. Everything went black.

G
entle hands reached through the darkness, brushing Carlos’s face. A quiet murmuring. Soft words he could barely hear through the roar in his ears. A throbbing behind his closed eyes that threatened to take him under again.

“Carlos…please wak
e up.” Mika’s voice pulled him to the surface.

He opened his eyes and sat up. The floor and the ceiling changed places in his vision and he slammed his eyelids down. “Is he gone?”

An ice pick of déjà vu jabbed him in the brain as he reopened his eyes. This time he wasn’t waking up alone in Ivy’s living room. Instead, Mika, worry etched into her forehead, looked up at him. He willed his stomach to settle and blinked slowly until the last of the blackout vanished from the edges of his consciousness.

“Are you okay?” he asked Mika, searching her face for signs of trauma and finding none.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaking. “Are you?”

He nodded. It was a mistake. The world swam in front of his eyes.

“How long?”

“About fifteen minutes.” She held up the zip tie connecting their wrists. She clutched his phone in her hands. “I found it under the couch. Cops and the ambulance are on their way.”

It shouldn’t have gotten this far. He shouldn’t have let it. A half a million dollars’ worth of cocaine was going to hit the streets tomorrow because he’d lost focus on a case. Again. He had given up his old life as penance, but he hadn’t learned a damn thing. How many times did he have to repeat history before he stopped making the same fucking mistakes?

How long would it be before Mika paid for his sins? He couldn’t do that to her. The best way to protect her was to walk away now before he couldn’t force himself to take a single step.

He snagged a pair of sewing scissors from the desk and snipped the zip ties from around Mika’s wrists. Holding her hands in his, he couldn’t look away from the ugly red lines left behind by the zip ties that marred her delicate skin. Fighter that she was, Mika had tried to pull free of her restraints because he hadn’t been able to protect her.

“Don’t worry.” She raised herself up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his. “We’ll get him before the drugs get put out on the street.”

He’d failed to keep the drugs off the street. He’d failed to keep Mika safe. He ran his thumb lightly across the marks on her wrists. Guilt punched its way through his ribcage and closed its viselike grip around his lungs. This couldn’t go on. He couldn’t take Mika down with him.

“There’s no
we
here.” There couldn’t be. He released her hands and grabbed his jeans from the floor.

“Of course there is.” She cut the zip tie joining her ankles. “We’re in this together.”

He couldn’t see her face, but there was no mistaking the stubborn determination underlying her words.
Mi cielo
wouldn’t give up on him—on them—unless he forced her. It was a good thing at least one lesson he’d learned over the past year had stuck. He knew how to napalm any tie he had to his past with efficiency and extreme prejudice.

“You’re joking, right?” He turned his back, unable to watch the effect of his words. He snorted disgustedly at himself. In addition to everything else, he was a fucking coward.

“No, I’m not joking,” she said. “There is an us. Last night wasn’t just fucking off an adrenaline high. I know you feel it, too. It hit you just as hard as it did me. We both knew it that first night.” She grabbed his arm and tried to force him around. When he didn’t move, she circled to stand in front of him. “We can fix this—together.”

He kept his gaze locked on the red splotch on the wall that used to be Roger’s head and refused to look at Mika as he dragged his shirt over his head.