For The Wicked (Fantasy Heights) (3 page)

Outside of stern warnings to follow safety procedures, Thomas said little to her about the investigation. In fact, he avoided most anything of a serious nature on the nights she spent at his place. She was his pressure valve in every sense. When he was with her, everything else got shut out.

She suspected that Josh caught the brunt of Thomas’s transition from Soldier to Suit. In that way, Josh was as necessary to Thomas as oxygen. Trusted sanctuary.

Heaven help her. What was she doing with these two? None of them seemed too eager to talk about the triangle forming between them, and she couldn’t say she was one-hundred-percent cool with the idea of being involved with two men at once. It was no longer a question of simply enjoying both relationships. She was well and truly attached to both men. What were they supposed to do? Carry on with this stupid silence until someone got hurt?

This was bad. What had she gotten herself into? Irresponsible, at best. Selfish and possibly even cruel, at worst. And then there was Jerod and Derek and so many worries and fears and—

“Hey.” Thomas took hold of her chin and forced her to make eye contact. “Stop brooding. God. You’re worse than me, sometimes. Maybe even worse than Josh.”

“No one gets their brood on as bad as Josh.” She sighed, and changed the subject to another close friend of Thomas’s. “Have either of you seen Scott Milazzo yet? Wasn’t he supposed to be here today?”

“He’s here,” Josh said. “I don’t know why the gamers bother to schedule anything on arrival day when all they really want to do is congregate in the quad and talk.”

Thomas’s brows crunched together. “And conspire against us. We’re gonna get our asses kicked this year. You sure you won’t change your mind and suit up?”

Josh snorted. “Right. Hand the least coordinated person in the world a weapon and load him up with a couple grand worth of electronic gear. I think Jennifer might actually strap a lawyer to my ass.”

Amanda tried not to cringe at the mention. By turning down the Paramour Project, she had not won herself a friend in Jennifer Grove. Amanda also got the distinct impression that Jennifer and her assistant, Fiona, blamed her personally for Thomas giving up all but his most faithful clients. The resort was taking a hit to the bottom line, to be sure. Yet Fiona and Jennifer were both happy to use her as a placeholder for Steph.

Such a strange place. There were so many rules and so much history she would likely never understand.

“All right. I gotta go,” Thomas said. “Are we on for tonight? Ridley and Nicole?”

Both she and Josh gave him similar versions of “Yes, of course.”

Thomas left, and Amanda turned back to Josh in time to watch him dim somewhat, seeming to settle under the weight of the world. When he glanced at her, a tight smile tinged with a fair amount of sadness crinkled the corner of his eyes.

Compelled to make him feel better, she said, “You guys have done everything possible to make sure Nicole and Ridley are taken care of. Steph and Gail, too.”

“Tell that to Thomas. He’s still real uneasy about how quiet it’s been.”

Amanda nodded, then startled when her phone vibrated loudly on the worktable behind her.

Josh leaned sideways to look at it.

She was not so easily distracted. “How will we ever find out?”

“How do we ever find anything out around here?”

“The hard way?”

A resentful look gave way to a grunt of laughter. Next thing, she found herself deeply, thoroughly kissed.

Amanda went back to the business office, giving the quad area a wide berth. Much as she would like to see Scott amongst two-hundred and fifty of his closest friends, she had no time for socializing today. There were still glitches in the new, secured computer system. The purchasing agent was having a particularly tough time, and of course Beverly and Kara were so overworked that Amanda could donate half her day to helping them out and still barely make a dent in their backlog.

In the office, she took a call from housekeeping, and then investigated the text she’d gotten back in the shop.

The message from Shelley, her stepsister, sent her brows up right along with her blood pressure.
Came by house but u moved out. Where u at?

“Oh, fantastic.” She hadn’t heard a peep from Shelley in a month. Amanda thought the girl had gone for good after their last sparring match over Shelley’s interest in Josh and Thomas. How should she respond? Should she respond at all?

After a moment’s thought, she sent a reply:
Busy at work. Thought you went home to Darren. Why are you still here?

She awaited a response, but not for long. She forgot all about it once the next crisis arrived at her office door.

Beverly looked utterly fed up. “I quit.”

Amanda knew Beverly didn’t really mean it. She guided the other woman into a chair, and then closed the door for privacy.

Happy to perform their habitual tea and sympathy routine, Amanda listened while Beverly once again lamented the shortage of performers and the delay in hiring new ones. Their biggest obstacle was the psych screen. Dr. Carpenter had been fired as a consultant. Thomas could not prove the doctor had been complicit with Robert Warnous or Brent Johnson. In fact, Thomas was pretty certain the doctor was innocent of any wrongdoing. To Thomas’s mind, that made Dr. Carpenter twice as incompetent. He had fired her the day after Robert and Marla were arrested.

A replacement had been hired. The changing of the guard was slowing the screening process of new staffers to a crawl when they could least afford any delay.

Amanda listened and soothed until Beverly had wound down enough to go perform her daily quota of scheduling miracles.

Later, Amanda met Josh and Thomas at the assisted living facility where Nicole and Ridley would be staying. Nice place, it seemed. The facility was portioned into staggered townhouses with well-kept lawns and a quiet atmosphere.

A security guard met them at the girls’ front door.

Josh raised his eyebrows at Thomas. “Are you sure that’s necessary?”

“The security stays elevated until I’m sure it’s
not
necessary.”

Encountering the girls for the first time, Amanda was shocked by how normal they looked. Both of them were alert and smiling, healthier than ever. If not for the fact neither of them could remember a single thing from before their respective attacks, one would think they were perfectly ordinary.

Amanda had a harder time reconciling Ridley. This damaged version of the formerly bitchy redhead was nice. Sweet, even, full of questions about how they’d known one another and whether they’d been friends. This Ridley with the clear, sparkling green eyes, pink complexion and the unfettered smile bore no resemblance to the Ripley of old.

Unsettling, to say the least. Still, Amanda took note of the bland, impersonal apartment and made a mental note to do something about that. She rode home with Thomas, thinking that so much had been taken from the girls, the least she could do was provide them a few flowers and other comforts.

She wished she had a chance to do the same at Thomas’s cottage. Until recently, he hadn’t spent much time at home. Now that she split her nights between the gatehouse and cottage, Thomas seemed bothered by the rather crisp, utilitarian feel of the place.

That night, while they stood together in the kitchen and he was once more confronted with the fact the he owned a grand total of three forks, he frowned at the silverware drawer. “We really need to do something about this place. How did I end up with only three forks? I swear there were four, once upon a time.”

She laughed at him. “Given your fondness for chilled forks, the fourth is probably under the bed. Or maybe between couch cushions.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. And I hate that couch. Are you sure you don’t want to get some of your stuff out of storage?”

“You just want my kitchen utensils.”

This time, it was Thomas who laughed. He dipped down to press a kiss into her neck. The scratch of his chin and the sound of that bawdy chuckle raised gooseflesh everywhere.

He said, “Nice deflection, gorgeous, but I’m serious. I worry that you’re a weird kind of homeless, split between this place and Josh’s, with none of your own belongings anywhere.”

Not entirely true. Staying at the cottage was almost like having her things back. She and Thomas had very similar tastes in books, movies and music. Video games, too, though he was much better with the hand-eye coordination than she was. Of course, the two of them were in those early days where he would deliberately lose when they played against each other, but still. She wanted for nothing. And heaven knew that during any time spent with Thomas, the last thing on her mind was her belongings.

Thomas’s cellphone buzzed, and while he read the message, her thoughts took a sharp left onto Shelley. The girl had never responded to her question. With any luck that meant Shelley had moved on. Or at least lost interest in whatever drama she’d hoped to hatch.

“Sorry.” Thomas pocketed his phone. “Anyway, I’m just saying you should make yourself more at home.”

“You first. Do you realize there’s not one single picture in this place?”

He raised an eyebrow. “How many should there be?”

“Four? Like the forks?”

“Wise-ass.”

She sent her hands under his shirt, clamping fingernails playfully onto his sides and making all those sensitive stomach muscles bunch up. That sent his mouth back to her neck so he could raise a new crop of gooseflesh.

Dinner became a cursory affair, a few quick bites amidst wandering hands and clingy gazes. Before long, they ended up in the bedroom. Thomas had something specific in mind for that night.

He placed a kitchen chairs near the bedroom door. He sat down. “Just this once, you do exactly what I tell you.”

Considering how this sort of thing usually turned out, she was happy to take his commands. He first ordered her to strip. He watched, his eyes tracking her hands, then lingering on her breasts and the apex of her thighs. She could feel his gaze on her skin. Possessive and seductive, as inflammatory as a touch. Her nipples tightened. The inner walls of her pussy began to heat and swell.

“Sit down on the bed.”

She obeyed. Without any forethought, she let her gaze fall to his belt, checking his state of arousal. He was hard already. How long would he make her wait?

“Scoot forward,” he said. “Right to the edge of the bed.”

Again, she did as directed. She’d swear he did this on purpose, knowing full well she tended to combust under such conditions.

“Spread your legs for me. Wide open.”

She did it. Immediately, she felt a ring of heat form around her clit as the blood rushed to firm it up. Thomas’s gaze centered between her legs, intensifying the effect, even more so when his own body responded. His already dark eyes went positively black from the dilated pupils. The prominent vein on the left side of his neck that she sometimes traced with her tongue displayed a quickened, intent pulse.

“Okay. Now put your hand between your legs and rub your clit until I’ve undressed.”

Oh, help. She obeyed, albeit with a light, ginger contact at first. Off went Thomas’s boots and jeans. She applied more pressure as he stripped off his shirt, showcasing firm lines of muscle. She was more interested in the way his cock strained against the front of his boxer briefs and when those too came off, she spread her legs a little wider. His eyes never left her fingers, which made the sweet circular pressure even hotter.

He sat back down. “Take your left hand and place it flat on the bed behind you. Then lift your right foot to rest on the side of the bed. Keep your legs spread wide.”

She adjusted her position so that she was propped rather sideways.

“Now I want you to push your middle finger into your pussy as far as it will go.”

She followed his order. Her eyes slid closed, momentarily adrift on pleasure.

“Now ease up a little. Relax your hand, curl it up and stroke your g-spot.”

She whimpered. He was feeling particularly merciless tonight. She cupped her hand and began to make the ‘come here’ stroking motion he’d shown her. On and on he made her rub while tension rolled through her muscles, making her writhe, anxious for release.

“Over here. To me.”

Finally. She was off the bed as quickly as noodley legs would allow. He did not make her wait any longer. He took her by the hips and hauled her forward, straddling his legs on the chair until his cock was pushing up inside her. Once she was riding him, he moved his hands to her breast. He took hold and drew first one nipple into his mouth before moving on to the other.

The stimulation, on top of the lingering effect of his commands, was disastrous for her control. The discord grew even worse once he stopped teasing her nipples to take fistfuls of hair and kiss her into a breathless mass of jubilant nerve endings. Feeling him hum against her when she started to climax dropped the orgasm into a new gear, tightening, sweetening deeper, reaching farther, dragging him along with her until he was a faltering spasm of muscle.

Again with the kissing, and then he hauled her to bed. They were both asleep within minutes.

In the morning, after they ran together—which in actuality was more like Thomas jogging while she struggled to keep up—they lingered in the bathroom. She sat on the counter to watch him shave while he reminded her about his trip. The day after next, as soon as the final dress rehearsal was over, he would need to leave for Virginia.

“I’ve got to meet with some of Bill’s old colleagues about Yvette. See if they can help me figure out how to force her into the open without anyone getting hurt.”

“Sounds delightful.”

“Nah, it’ll be cool. I haven’t seen those guys in a long time. They’re great. Very smart about illogical offenders. It helps that Bill was so interested in the Prescotts’ personality disorders. He had a lot of notes about what could trigger a violent event. They’ve been looking over them for me.”

She remembered Josh mentioning Bill’s fascination with the Prescotts. Maybe some good would finally come of it.