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Maybe they had a lead on the Madre. Surely, after the hours Leah

had spent giving a highly detailed statement and being examined by a

police department-approved physician, someone would've called if they'd

actually made an arrest. All that humiliation deserved a little

consideration, didn't it?

"No," Marcus said, "it's not official business, and what did you mean when you said 'it can't be easy'?"

Leah turned away from him, dumped the rest of her drink into the

sink and stared at the wall. "It can't be easy seeing me again after what you went through. What I helped put you through."

"Whoa." He came up behind her and put a hand on her arm. "What happened to me was in the line of duty. Besides, you saved my life."

She turned her head and looked at him. "And maybe that's part of

the problem?"

His face changed. Hardened again for a second or two. Then he

smiled. "I'm not that much of a jerk. A woman can save my ass anytime."

"And when you look at me, you don't...it doesn't..." She wasn't even sure where she was going with this. But it was difficult to believe he

didn't associate her with some seriously traumatic shit.

He moved the hand that rested on her arm to her shoulder. "When I

look at you, I feel grateful."

"Grateful." Lovely. Oh well. It was better than hating the sight of her.

"Yes, grateful. And I'm glad to see you again. I have questions."

"Ah, of course." She ran her hand down the front of the kimono, suddenly self-conscious. What must he think of her, greeting him dressed like a high-class prostitute? "Well, go on. Shoot."

He let his hand drop and stepped away from her. "First of all, I'm

going to assume you knew DeTagliera's fire phobia from having worked

for her before?"

Leah nodded. "It wasn't something anyone ever discussed,

especially with someone like me. I was sort of...low on the totem pole.

But I knew. I..." In point of fact, she'd dreamt about it, all those years ago. But she wasn't going to tell him that.

"But you were being groomed? To be an acolyte, like Shannon?"

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His voice had slipped into the cadence of interrogation. Clipped and

careful.

"Yes."

"And why did you leave?"

She sighed. "What difference does it make?"

"I'd like to know."

"But I don't have to answer if I don't want to?"

He shook his head. "No. But I'm asking you to."

She turned away from him again. This was getting to be too much.

Too painful. Maybe if she just said it out loud—told him about the

visions and all the other special "gifts" she inherited from Gram—he'd go away and leave her alone. God knew enough men had. She said, "I had a vision. I saw the Madre order an acolyte to slit a man's throat. I didn't know...I mean, I knew things got a little rough in Donnatella's private

rooms. I heard the screaming. But everybody always seemed to leave

happy." She looked at him. "I left the day after I had the vision. You can believe me or not, I don't care."

"I believe you."

She stared at him, not sure. What if this was a game? What if the

Santa Rosa P.D. had decided to hold her responsible in Donnatella's

place?

"Why?" she asked him.

"Because you magically appeared and disappeared in the basement

of Hotel California? Because I could hear you talking in my head?

Because you saved my life?" He moved closer to her again. "I think we already covered this."

"I..." She felt tears gather in her eyes and fought them back. "I didn't think you remembered. I thought maybe the drug...and when I came

back, you looked at me like you didn't know me."

"Never let it be said I can't work a poker face, baby. But I have

perfect recall on the subject of you."

She laughed, and it kind of sounded like a sob. When he reached for

her, she fell against him. The leather of his coat smelled raw and musky against her face. She let herself breathe and willed the tears away. "Any other questions, Detective?"

"Just one. Were you behind the anonymous call that sent the fire

department to the club? The dispatcher said it phoned in by some guy.

Very nervous."

She craned her head back to look up at him without leaving the

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inner sanctum of his embrace. "Yes. But that's all I'm saying about that."

"Right." He pulled her tight against him once more.

"So now what?" She swallowed the ball of tension that had risen to the back of her throat. "Is this the part where you fuck me stupid?"

His laughter rumbled against her ear, way down deep in his chest.

"Was hoping you'd forgotten that."

"Yeah, well. My recall isn't too shabby, either."

He worked a hand under her chin and lifted her face too look at him.

"Leah, I need to know. What happened between us...what they made me do—"

"It's all right."

"It's not all right. It was rape."

"Then they raped both of us, didn't they?"

"But—"

"You said no, right? You did everything you could to avoid going

through with it, up to letting them kill us."

There was a pause while his eyes searched her face. "You're sure?

Because if you have even one doubt, I'll walk out of here and you'll never see me again."

"That sounds like a threat."

He didn't answer. Just looked at her and looked some more.

"Really, Marcus. It's okay." She pressed her face into his chest again to hide the red flush that was building in her cheeks. "Besides...I think you know I wanted you. How could you miss it?"

He cleared his throat. "I don't like to assume stuff like that."

"Right. Like there wasn't enough evidence to prove it."

They stood there, holding each other in her kitchen for another

minute. Maybe two. He rubbed slow circles against her back, his hand

feeling big and warm through the silk of the kimono.

Finally, he said, "Leah? Should I go, or—"

"No." Okay, that didn't sound overly eager or anything. "I mean, unless you want to."

"I'm more interested in what you want." He set her away from him and looked down at her, his eyes dilated and intense. "Tell me what you want, Leah. I'll do anything."

Whoa. An exact quote from her dream all those nights ago. Déjà vu

didn't begin to cover it. She grabbed his hand. "How did you get this scar?" She ran her thumb over the crescent-shaped mark and heard the faraway sound of shattering glass one more time.

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"I put my fist through a window when I was fourteen. Why?"

She shook her head. What had Gram said? Destiny is all in the

details?

She glanced at him and then back at the scar. "Why did you do that?

Break the window, I mean?"

"It was nothing. There was this woman. She was being...hurt. I

could see through the window, the guy was beating the shit out of her.

So..."

"So you saved her."

"I guess."

She turned his hand over and pressed a kiss to the center of his

palm. "Take me to bed, Detective, before I jump you right here on the kitchen floor."

He peeled off his jacket and tossed it aside. They walked hand-in-

hand to her room. He stopped her in the doorway and said, "Can I kiss you now? You said I could kiss you—"

"After you bought me dinner. It's not even lunchtime yet."

"But you'll make an exception."

"Awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

The feeling of his mouth on hers lit her up, burning down deep like

she'd swallowed a mouthful of hot, spicy broth. Like heat lightning

flashing in her veins. Like...like...like nothing that could be described with some lame, English 101 simile-slash-metaphor combination.

Something inside her went soft and needy, and she clutched at him.

"Now," she said. "Right now."

"What do you want?" His voice was tight through his teeth, low and coarse and rubbing like sandpaper across every nerve in her body. "Tell me what you want. Need to hear you say it."

She backed up toward the bed, pulling him along by his belt-buckle.

"Want you to fuck me stupid, Detective. Just like you promised."

"I can do that."

"Yeah, I bet you can."

He pushed her down, knocking her back onto the bed. Then he

rolled them so she lay on top, and held still as she worked open the

buttons of his shirt and the buckle, button and zipper that held up his

jeans. In another few seconds, he was naked under her. And then she felt shy. Like she hadn't been up close and personal with his body. In

particular, his cock, which lay tight to his belly and twitched when the sleeve of her kimono brushed over the head. She watched his face as she

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took him in her hand. Closed her eyes and felt the blood-hot shaft.

Remembered.

He groaned her name when she squeezed, and rolled them again—a

half-turn this time. They landed on their sides, facing each other. He

grabbed her knee and lifted so that it hooked over his hip. "I can't wait.

Have to...next time—"

"Next time can be all about the gentle and romantic." She leaned over and licked across the corded muscle of his bicep. Then she sunk her teeth into his flesh, hard. He started, his hips thrusting forward against her. She reached between them and guided him home.

"There's gonna be payback for that, you know," he said, his breath hot on her face. "And I promise, it'll be a bitch." Then he was fucking her, the slick-rough press of his cock making her shake and bite back

whimpers. He drew nearly all the way out, teasing her with the tip,

dancing it over her clit and then sliding back down to push in. He

grabbed her hips and angled her body so his mouth could reach her

nipples. He took one in his mouth and raked it with his teeth—a threat

that was more like a promise.

"Please," she said. "Please, ohgodplease." She didn't even know what she was asking for, unless it was more. He seemed to understand,

because his strokes got longer. Harder. He ground against her in a slow

circle at the height of every thrust until she buried her face in his neck and sobbed.

He rolled them a third time, then he was moving them up the bed

with every thrust, rucking the blankets and sheets under them. Her

shaking gave way to shuddering. The muscles in her belly and thighs

tightened defensively. So good...so hard and so good, just like she

needed it.

When she came, pleasure curled into every nerve ending, rolling out

and back again, not letting her breathe or think or do anything but try to survive it. She felt him pull up tight against her, pulsing deep inside. In a choked voice, he whispered her name. She wrapped her arms around his

neck and kissed his face. Fierce little pecks and nips that made him laugh when he was finally finished coming.

It took ten minutes for her to find her voice again. They lay side-by-

side, staring at the ceiling. Not touching except for their intertwined

fingers.

"They're still out there somewhere," she said. "Shannon and the Madre."

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He turned his head to look at her. "Are you scared?"

"Are you?"

He cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm not happy about it, I'll say that much. Especially since they know you. They can find you if they try."

"What should I do about it? I'm not abandoning my life for them."

"No. But you shouldn't be alone."

She lay there in silence for a few seconds. "Is that an offer?"

"Do you want it to be?"

She turned onto her side to study him. "I can take care of myself,

you know. I'm not helpless."

"Yeah. So long as they keep making disposable lighters and stupid

shoes, you're golden."

"Listen, you. I saved your ass."

"You did. And I told you, I'm okay with admitting that."

"You are? You're sure?"

"Yeah, if you're okay with admitting you could use a little in-house protection."

She stared at him some more. "We could try it. Temporarily. But if

you change your mind—"

"That works both ways. You might hate having me around."

"You surprise me, Detective. I didn't expect you to be

so...enlightened."

He snorted. "I'll check back with you in a week on that subject."

"You do that." She slipped her fingers from between his and lifted her hand to stroke his chest. "Now...about that payback? What exactly did you have in mind?"

He grinned at her. Naughty. Maybe even a little dangerous.

She'd never felt so safe in her life.

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Miranda Writes

Cassidy Kent

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D'ARC, GALE, KENT, MARCH

Also by Cassidy Kent

Sunset Key

Raleigh in Rio

Dolce & Diana

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She lit up his dull world like a firecracker on the Fourth of July. Ben
knew that now as he leaned over her body.

Miss Julie's flaming red tresses splashed the warm hay with bright

licks of color, the olive tone of her skin revealed as he pushed up her
petticoats inch by inch. Her long, luscious legs spread slightly, even
while her mouth played coy games with his mind.

"
Do you really want me, Benjamin?" she asked, her lower lip
quivering with apprehension and excitement.

Did he ever.

He woke up nights, sweating and dreaming over the ranch owner's

daughter. She even haunted his days…

And now here she was, opening up for him like a sensual gift,