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He walks for his car in the reserved space a few feet from the entrance of the club and slides into the driver’s seat. We both start our ignition in unison.
I promised not to do anything crazy, but following him home doesn’t break that vow.
I hang back, waiting until he’s almost out of view before I tag along for the ride.
As expected, he drives more cautious than normal. He navigates toward his suburb, sticking to the speed limit like a good little boy, which only makes me more suspicious.
Why would he pretend he’s driving Miss Daisy unless he didn’t want to draw attention to himself and the abduction he just instigated?
Three a.m. delirium has me convinced he did something to that woman. And even if he didn’t, I refuse to let him curl up in bed thinking he’s getting away with his crimes.
Something has to be done.
But what?
I creep my car closer as we approach his street, giving up the pretense of an early morning drive to make it clear he’s being followed.
He doesn’t react. There’s no increase in speed or diversion to put me off his trail.
I can still picture him behind that wheel, all smug and self-assured, acting entirely untouchable.
It drives me fucking crazy.
It drives me so fucking crazy I break my promise and plant my foot on the accelerator.
I zoom along his desolate street, overtaking him to pull to a stop in front of his driveway. I block his entrance and storm out of my car, frustration and resentment seeping from my pores.
His window lowers as I turn toward him, the sight before me more daunting in its appeal than I remember. He’s gorgeous. Perfect teeth. Smooth skin. Healthy tan. So much masculine stubble along that incredible jaw line.
God, I want to break this motherfucker. I want to break him more than words can express.
“What a pleasant surprise,” he purrs. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He’s all sophisticated charm and oozing chivalry. The heavy flirtation doesn’t skip my attention either, but two can play that game.
“Having a good night?” I close my door and start toward him.
“It’s definitely shaping up to be memorable.” His mouth kicks in a wicked grin. “I’ve been waiting for you to face me again.”
I gasp in fake concern. “I hope you haven’t been holding your breath.”
“Only since I spied you out the front of my house this morning.”
Shit.
I ignore the heavy pulse in my chest and saunter toward the Porsche. “Well, here we are. Reunited at last.”
“And ready for round two?” he muses. “Or is this round three?”
I answer the provocation with a breath of a laugh. “Did you have a good night? I assume the date didn’t go well.”
“Date?”
I reach his door and grip the window ledge to peer down at him. “You took a woman to the club. Two of you went in. Only one came out.” I watch for a flicker in his expression, hoping for a clue that never comes. “I was wondering if she was your next victim.”
“Victim? You speak as if women aren’t begging to get in my bed.” He snickers. “And that woman in particular wasn’t one of them. Her name’s Beth, and she’s a bartender. I gave her a ride for her birthday, because she wants to have a few drinks after the doors close. I’m sure she’s still in the VIP lounge if you feel inclined to stalk her, too.”
What I feel inclined to do is shove that cocky attitude down his throat.
His self-assurance makes it hard not to believe his story. There’s not a single hint of guilt or apprehension.
“You know, you never cease to surprise me, little fox.”
“Yeah?” I add sugar to my tone. “Why is that? Did you think I’d give up after our last encounter? Are you really delusional enough to believe you intimidate me?”
“Not at all.” The smirk reaches his eyes, the deep blue glistening as a dimple becomes visible in his left cheek. “What surprises me is that your jealousy is ten times sexier than your anger.”
Jealousy?
Not even if hell froze over, buddy.
He’s baiting me. Tap, tap, tapping at my grated nerves.
I won’t bite.
“Do you know what I find really sexy?” I ask. “The thought of slapping a set of cuffs on you and watching you rot in prison.”
“Don’t tease, gorgeous. You’ve got no idea how hard it makes me.”
I struggle to hold my smile when all I want to do is snarl. The mental pictures of his erection aren’t easily ignored with my frazzled brain.
He makes fire burn in the pit of my stomach, the flames growing, licking higher with every second his arrogant expression remains fixed in my direction.
He’s a sociopath.
An emotionless, narcissistic predator.
“You’re incredible.” So undeniably, unbelievably remarkable. Like a rotting corpse desecrating the purity of heaven.
“I like to think so,” he drawls. “But tell me why you agree.”
I crouch, leaning down until I’m at eye level. “With the amount of suspicion piling up behind you from the new flood of missing women, I would’ve thought you’d be cautious.” It’s a bluff. A rather large one, considering I’m the only agent paying him attention. “But not you. You keep swinging around that ego of yours like it’s a foot-long dick.”
His features tighten, the smirk more of a gnashing of teeth, the stare edging toward a scowl.
I’ve struck a nerve.
Good.
“What missing women?” He asks the question on a breathy sigh, as if he’s suddenly grown tired of my company when he’d delighted in it moments earlier. “What crime are you trying to pin on me now?”
Surprise, surprise. Feigned ignorance. I can’t say it’s a favored facet of this man, but it’s better than when he’s antagonistic.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I wave away the comment, taking his smug, superior attitude and ru
His jaw tightens. His nostrils flare.
“Did you come here for a reason, Ms. Fox? I mean, other than adding to the harassment case you continue to build. Are you searching for a nightcap? I think a good fucking is exactly what you need to distract you from making more false accusations.”
“Tempting.” I nod. “Seriously, tempting. But not tonight. I actually came here because I need to apologize for my behavior. The last time we spoke, you offered an olive branch and I threw it back in your face. I was hoping the offer might still be open.”
The tightness fades from his features, and he settles back into his comfortable role of arrogant asshole. “Di
“Yes, di
He inclines his head. “I remember. I promised to tell you everything I know about his escape.”
“So, is the offer still open?”
He shrugs. “That depends on what I get in return.”
I gasp in fake outrage. I even clutch at my chest for dramatic effect. “Do you mean to tell me the pleasure of my company isn’t enough of an incentive?”
“Possibly.” He ponders the question, or maybe he ponders the situation in general, those eyes taking me in, seeing everything. His gaze rakes my body, narrow with speculation. Down my chest, over my hips, and farther, to my thighs. “What happens if I want something more substantial?”
“Like?” I’m not signing my own death certificate. I might be slightly crazed with dedication. I’m not fucking stupid.
“Leave it to me. But don’t worry, I’ll make my terms known before you’re asked to sign in blood.” He flashes a bright-white smile. “Would tonight suit?”