“They aren’t stolen.” Well, not really. I hadn’t exactly had permission from my father to take them, but it had been years, and he’d never tried to get them back from me. They definitely weren’t hot in the way Raine meant, stolen from a robbery or something.
“You would say that. For all I know, you have cops on your tail, about to bust me as an accomplice.”
He was practically panting over them. No way he’d let me walk. I started to gather them back up. “Okay, I’ll take them somewhere else tomorrow. I just really needed the money tonight, that’s all, and—”
“Okay, wait. Give them to me. This one’s off-the-books, though. No fucking pawn slip for this, you hear? When you walk out that door, I never want to see your pretty face again.”
My breath caught as I ducked my head. I didn’t want him examining my looks at all. “Just hurry up, okay? I have a party to go to.”
He snorted. “I have a party in the back room. Come see.”
I shook my head. “I’m meeting someone.”
“I’ll bet you are.” He squinted. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”
I shrugged as my heart beat wildly. “I come and go. Chicago’s a big city.”
“Yeah. A big windy fucking city.” He finally turned away and counted out a slim pack of bills. “You remember what I said, now. I don’t want to see you back here. If anyone comes around asking, you were never here.”
“Perfect.”
I tucked the money into my jacket pocket, wishing I could stash it somewhere safe. But at least I had the money now. If I needed to run, I could. Strange thoughts. I wouldn’t run. I had nowhere to go. And yet the premonition nagged at me. I was free, unencumbered. I had a gun, I had money—this was power. I didn’t feel powerful, though. I felt melancholy, already missing a life I had tried so hard to escape.
A block away from the store, a slight scuff of a shoe on pavement caught my attention. I slowed and heard the quiet clop-clop of footsteps following. Ducking into an alley, I waited for the person to pass me. Nothing came. No club visitors sauntered by, no more sounds at all. I was getting paranoid. I stepped out to head toward the club again. A hand reached out and sealed over my mouth before I could utter a squeak. Then I was pulled back into the alley. Farther, farther into the inky black, until all I could see were the stars above me.
“Be still.” Luke’s whisper was harsh in my ear.
“Jesus,” I gasped when he took his hand off my mouth, my heart pounding. I blinked up at the stars, stiff against him, filled with relief I couldn’t examine right now. “Did you do that just to scare the shit out of me?”
His hands softened; his hold turned from a cage to an embrace. “Probably for the same reason you waltzed into headquarters and lifted my ID.”
“Okay,” I grumbled. “You had your revenge. Let me go.”
I pushed against him, halfheartedly, turning to face him, and became aware of the hardness of his body, the tautness everywhere, and the firm length of him against my stomach. I didn’t want to breathe his bitter-soap scent or hear the catch in his voice whenever he spoke near me—but God, I needed it. Like stepping out of my heels, peeling off the tight garments after an evening of work; like collapsing on the couch, finally safe; like standing beneath the hot beat of the shower, finally clean—meeting Luke was like coming home.
He cupped the back of my neck, and I let my head fall back. With slow, aching deliberation, waiting for me to deny him, forcing me to choose, he lowered his head. I strained for him. Not just my breath—my whole body panted for him.
The touch of his lips on my neck was so light I barely felt them. Like the flicker of moonlight on water, the moment my nerves centered on his kiss, he was gone, skimming over the surface, alighting on a new slip of my skin. And myself, the dark, fathomless depths—liquid, effervescent, effortlessly languorous. Pleasure rippled over me, while something long hidden stirred beneath the surface.
“What are you doing?” My voice trembled.
He didn’t pause in his exploration. “If this little game of yours is going to work, we have to look like lovers.”
A game, then. “I’m great at faking it,” I said blandly.
His laugh was soft—seductive. Did he know how he sounded? Did he do that on purpose? “I’m sure you are. Though I’ll know. Don’t doubt that.”
I attempted to snort my derision at his statement, but it came out breathy. “Spare me the promise of your magic dick.”
“I didn’t say I’d make you come. I said I’d know if you didn’t. I’m sure you can moan very nicely, but the truth is in the eyes. I bet you close them when you’re pretending.”