In His Shadow (Tangled Ivy Book 1) (11 page)

“Will you tell me who you are?” I asked, nibbling on the cracker. “Who you are really?”

“I’ve already told you,” Devon replied.

“But who do you work for? How can you kill so many people without the police catching you?” I couldn’t look at him as I asked, maybe because now that I was saying it aloud to him, it made it more real. If he realized I knew all he’d done, would he hurt me, too?

“My job is a bit . . . above the law.” He reached out, snagging another strawberry.

I swallowed the bit of cheese in my mouth, wondering if I wanted an answer to my next question. “And what is that job exactly?”

“I’m a spy, of course.”

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

I
stared at Devon, then slowly blinked.

“You’re a what?” I asked.

“A spy,” he repeated, “though perhaps not how you’re used to thinking of one.” He ate another strawberry.

“I generally don’t think of spies at all,” I said honestly. “I kind of thought they were extinct after the Cold War.”

“Extinct?” He raised an eyebrow. “Surely I’m not that old. Besides, spies never go away, nor does the need for them.”

I let this ruminate for a moment. “So,” I said, “you’re a . . . British spy? Spying on America?” Nice. I’d hooked up with someone who could probably get me arrested for treason or some such thing.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he dismissed. “We don’t spy on allies.”

The way he said it made my response a little dry. “Of course you don’t.”

His lips twitched at my tone. “I told you I’m looking for someone,” he said. “My search led me here.”

“And Mr. Galler is . . . was . . . involved?”

“It would seem so.”

I waited, but Devon didn’t elaborate. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“That’s all you need to know.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that from the beginning?” I asked. “Why the lies and . . . and the pretending to like me . . . and taking me to dinner and . . . and stuff?” Blurting all of that out made me look away in embarrassment, but I wanted to know. I’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. After years of being so cautious, it burned to know how easily Devon had seduced me.

His hand cupped my chin, making me turn to face him. I lifted my eyes reluctantly to his.

“I didn’t tell you because I thought you might be working with them,” he said. “And I do like you. If I hadn’t . . . well, there are other ways to make someone talk.”

Yeah, I didn’t really want to know the details.

“What convinced you I wasn’t?” I asked instead.

Devon’s hand slid to my cheek and I resisted the urge to tip my head farther into his hand.

“The night you were afraid,” he said. “You couldn’t have faked that, nor would there have been a reason to, if you’d been working for them.”

That night flashed through my mind, how quickly he’d known what I’d been trying to hide.

He was so close, and the words he said soothed my mangled pride. But I didn’t trust him. He could lie so easily, and considering his life probably depended on how well he did so, it would be foolish to believe him now. Should I even believe that he was a spy? Maybe he was playing a game with me, seeing if I’d believe such an outlandish story.

I eased back, putting some space between us. “So you’re just going to keep me here?”

“For now,” Devon said, the calculating look coming back into his eyes. He stood. “Come. You need to rest.”

Taking my hand, he pulled me to my feet and led me down the hall to the bedroom. He flipped on the switch and a lamp illuminated the room. Although spacious, the huge bed dominated the space and my eyes were drawn inexorably to it.

“You can sleep in here,” he said. “I’ll take the sofa.” The way he said it, almost with a wry smile, had me glancing at him.

“You don’t have to give up your bed for me,” I protested. “I mean, it’s not like you’re a gentleman.” I didn’t know why I added the dig, maybe I wanted to push him and see how far he’d go.

But his lips only twisted further. “I can pretend as well as the next man,” he said.

Devon moved closer until we were nearly touching. I stood my ground, though I wanted desperately to take a step back.

“What are you doing?” I asked, immediately hating the throaty sound in my voice.

Devon didn’t answer me. His gaze dropped to my mouth and my pulse leapt. Leaning down, his lips brushed mine in a feather-light touch. His lips were soft and warm, teasing gently and coaxing a response from me as his tongue swiped my bottom lip.

It was electric and I moaned softly, opening my mouth so he could deepen the kiss. He tasted of strawberries, his tongue sliding along mine as his hand palmed the back of my head. Devon kissed me as though he had all the time in the world, until I was breathless and clutching his shoulders, my body pressed against his.

“Your body was made for me,” he murmured, his lips sliding along my jaw to leave my skin burning. “That’s why you’re not afraid. It knows me. It wants me between your legs, buried inside you.”

The words curled in my ear like the sweet, silky promise of a viper. I stiffened, but before I could push him away again, Devon pulled back.

“Good night, sweet Ivy.” Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

How the hell was I supposed to sleep after that?

And yet, sleep I did. When I woke, I realized I’d slept longer than usual and it was already late in the morning. I showered in the master bath but didn’t have any clean clothes. Devon’s shirt came down to mid-thigh, so I put that back on. My black pants went on right over my bare skin—looked like I was going commando for the time being.

When I emerged from the bedroom, I smelled food. Following the scent to the kitchen, I was momentarily taken aback at the sight of Devon with his back to me as he cooked something on the stove. His upper body was bare. Though he wore pants, his shirt had been discarded and the sunshine lighting up the apartment threw his skin into stark relief.

Three bullet-wound scars decorated his back. A long scar that must have been from a knife arched across his shoulder blade before disappearing around his torso. The thick muscles rippled underneath his skin as he moved, the pants riding low on his lean hips.

I sucked in a breath as I avidly drank him in. Usually scars would be a detriment, but Devon’s only added to his appeal—badges of honor earned through his pain and blood. I questioned again what he’d told me about being a spy. He definitely did something dangerous, but maybe he just hadn’t wanted to tell me it was illegal so had made up the spy thing.

Did it matter to me? No. Not really. Should it matter? Without a doubt.

“Sleep well?” he asked, still cooking something on the stove.

I frowned, wondering how he’d known I was there when I was sure I hadn’t made a sound.

“Um, yeah, I guess,” I replied, sliding onto one of the barstools at the granite counter.

Devon reached for two plates and slid some food onto each, then turned and set one in front of me. He’d made omelets.

“You can cook,” I said, stating the obvious, but it surprised me. It seemed like such a mundane activity for a man like him.

“Everyone has to eat,” he said, taking a good-sized bite of his omelet.

My mind churned as we ate in silence. Devon wasn’t the chatty type, but my thoughts were going a thousand miles a minute and I couldn’t help expressing the most worrisome of them.

“It doesn’t seem to bother you, killing people,” I blurted. “You don’t even hesitate. I’ve only known you a couple of weeks and I’ve seen you kill . . .” A pause while I counted. “Six men.”

He glanced at me, then took another bite before responding. “I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I hesitated or if killing people was bothersome to me.”

“Are you good at your job?”

Devon’s eyes were steady and cold. “Very.”

Suddenly I wasn’t hungry anymore. I pushed my plate away. “I think I’d better go,” I said.

“I told you, it’s not safe,” Devon replied.

I gave him a look. “Somehow I don’t think I’d be safer here with you.”

Devon wiped his mouth with a napkin and picked up the plates, setting them into the sink. “I wasn’t attempting to frighten you,” he said, walking toward me. I swiveled the seat so I could track him, which might have been a mistake because he didn’t stop until he stood right in front of me. He wedged his body between my knees, forcing my legs apart to accommodate him.

“I’m not frightened,” I managed to say, “but I don’t know what to believe. This could all be a lie for all I know. Maybe
you’re
the bad guy.” My eyes were drawn to his chest, the width of his shoulders. I knew I should feel afraid, and perhaps I was, a little. But the fear only made me want him more, which was a red flag waving on the path of self-destruction if I ever saw one.

“Quite right. I suppose it would depend on who you asked,” Devon quipped, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He smelled like soap and spice, the nipples on his chest begging me to lean forward just a little and lick them. He’d shaved, the tinge of musk from his aftershave teasing my nostrils as my fingers itched to test the smoothness of his jaw.

“So why do you care what happens to me?” I asked.

“Because I like having sex with you,” he said, his bluntness making my jaw gape. “Last night was a bit rough, so I let you have your space.” His hands moved to the buttons of the shirt I wore. “However, knowing you’re not wearing anything underneath those clothes has me rethinking my efforts at chivalry.” The buttons slipped easily through the holes, and before I’d even had time to react, Devon had it undone to my waist.

Devon had saved me—pursued me—only because he’d thought I’d known something about Galler . . . and because he wanted to fuck me.

Talk about a blow to a girl’s ego.

He felt absolutely nothing for me, even after we’d slept together. In fact, Devon gave the adage about men thinking only with their dicks a whole new level of meaning. Perhaps some women might have found it flattering. I did not.

“Yeah, listen,” I said, pulling my shirt closed just as Devon was about to slip his hand inside, “I thought I could do the sex-without-strings thing, but it’s not really me, so I’ll just be going.” I swiveled on the stool again and hopped down. I buttoned my shirt on the way to the door to put on my shoes, then grabbed my cell from where Devon had set it on a table and slipped it into my pocket.

“Even after what I’ve told you, you’re just going to leave?” Devon asked, following me.

“I own a gun, so I’ll be sure to have it on me,” I replied, keeping my gaze averted. I didn’t want to get sucked into the almost-magnetic pull he had on me. “Besides, you don’t care, remember? You have the pendant. You’ve had me.” Now I fixed him with a fake smile. “I doubt I’ll cross your mind.”

“I don’t believe in things like
love
and
forever
, and I don’t apologize for it,” Devon said with a shrug, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I barely know you,” I retorted. “I’m not asking for either of those things.”

“Then what do you want?”

“In exchange for what?” I asked. “Sleeping with you?”

Devon didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. The cold fire in his eyes as his gaze raked me from head to toe said enough. My skin prickled as though he’d touched me, and I clenched my fists, angry at my body’s response to nothing but a look from him.

“Sorry,” I sneered, “but I’m not a prostitute. Find someone else to scratch your itch.” Then I was out the door.

A cab ride and a quick call to Logan to bring down my purse to pay the driver and I was back home.

“You’ve got to be freezing,” Logan said, holding the cab door for me while I climbed out. “I can’t believe you didn’t even take your coat last night.”

“I know,” I said, wrapping my arms around my torso and shivering. I glanced up at Logan as the cab drove away. “Thanks for bringing down some money for me.”

“It’s not a—” Logan’s voice cut off and his eyes went wide. The blood drained from his face as he stared at me.

“What the fuck did he do to you?” Logan’s hands gripped my upper arms as he hauled me closer, his gaze inspecting my bruised face. “I swear to God, I’m going to kill him!”

Alarmed, I hurried to explain. “Logan, it’s not what you think!”

Logan didn’t reply, his face livid now with anger.

“Let’s go inside,” I pleaded with him.

Relenting, Logan pulled me into the building. To his credit, he didn’t say anything more until we were in the apartment and I was ensconced on the couch. Wrapping a blanket around me, he said, “I’m waiting for this explanation.”

I winced at the leashed fury in his voice. Time to tell all. Logan had been with me too long, had seen too much in my life, for me to wait any longer. So I spilled the whole tale. From when I’d first begun seeing Devon in the bank, to the night I’d watched him kill someone and right on up to my abduction last night and the car crash.