Turning Payne (5 page)

Turner opened the door to his apartment and winced at the mess. He groaned silently as he ushered Riley in, and shut the door behind her.

Empty beer bottles and pizza boxes lay scattered about. He glanced at Riley. She surveyed the room, brow raised, but kept any comment to herself.

He'd thought of taking her to his main pad, but exhaustion was setting in and the thought of driving another forty-five minutes on the I-80 made his head hurt. Also, he was sure the white board in his home office, covered in pictures and notes about her family would raise questions he wasn't prepared to answer at the moment. But having her at the apartment that he used to spy on her made his skin crawl.

Riley took her shoes off, placed them on the welcome mat, and gave him a forced smile. So much for first impressions. The apartment was small, but it was all he needed. More of a stopover than an actual living space. And it wasn't like he normally invited women to his apartment, either of them. If they wanted to hook up, there were plenty of places that didn't involve invading his personal space.

He rubbed his hand over his chin, the two days of growth rasping against his skin. "I haven't been here much lately."

She shrugged and looked around. "I'm used to a mess. I'm constantly reminding Kiera—" A flash of pain crossed her expression, then her green eyes went blank and she looked down at the floor.

Damn the vulnerability that wrapped around her like a thick blanket. His lion paced with the need to possess her, to take care of her. He shook his head and reminded himself why she was there. She was his best connection at finding out if Boyd was still alive, and if he was, where the man was hiding.

"I'll show you the bedroom." He slung her duffle bag over his shoulder and started down the hall. When she didn't follow, he stopped and looked back. 

Her lips tightened and her brows drew down sharply. "Your bedroom?"

"Don't worry. I'll sleep on the couch."

The relief that washed over her face didn't do much for his ego. Sharing a bed with her had crossed his mind more than once on the drive over, but even if she'd been willing, his body screamed for sleep.

"Come on," he said.

She let out a pent up breath and followed him into the small room.

He kicked the pile of dirty clothes that sat in the center of the room into a corner and dropped her bag on the unmade bed. The room smelled of dust and mildew.

"There are clean sheets and towels in the hall closet." At least he hoped there was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done a load of laundry.

She gave a non-committal nod, wrapped her arms around herself, glanced at the bed and then back at him.

Fuck. Was he supposed to make the bed for her? Damn if he knew the first thing about having a guest—especially a female one. He took a step towards her and she sucked in a sharp breath. Fear, or something akin to it, crossed her expression. Shit, did she think he would hurt her? He held his hands up to placate her.

There were many things he wanted to do to her, but hurting her wasn't one of them. His gaze focused on her plump lower lip, and as if reading his mind, she began chewing on it. His cock twitched and his lion growled low in his chest—
Mine.

He mentally slapped himself for the thought. She wasn't his. She was Richard Boyd's fucking daughter.

"Why are you doing this?" She looked up at him, eyes wary.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "It's my job."

It wasn't entirely a lie, just a slight deviation from the truth.

She nodded, watching him carefully. Her gaze landed on his lips and she shivered. He could smell the faint scent of arousal drifting from her. He inhaled deeply and his cock stiffened. Damn, he needed to get away from her before he did something stupid, or rather,
stupider
than what he'd already done. Bringing her back to his apartment was another nail in his coffin. But what else was he supposed to do? Handing Riley and her sister over to the Therian Council wasn't an option. At least not yet.

"Get some sleep. We'll figure things out in the morning."

* * *

A loud crash and a series of high-pitched beeps woke Riley out of a deep sleep. She bolted upright in bed and glanced around at the unfamiliar room. An old retro-style dresser sat against the wall, the mirror cracked along the side. The bare, discolored walls were void of pictures and a heavy blanket hung with nails over the window. It took her a moment to grasp her surroundings, and bile rose to her throat as the events of the day before assaulted her mind.

She pushed the covers off, stood and peeked out the makeshift curtain. A garbage truck rolled away from the curb six stories below. She knew the neighborhood. The apartment complex wasn't far from her house. It was a rough area. Cheap rent, albeit, but definitely not a place she would have tagged Turner to live in. The black SUV that he drove probably cost triple the price of the rundown apartment.

Something seemed off. It wasn't just that the apartment didn't suit him; other than his discarded designer clothes, there was really nothing to tie him to the place.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that it had been way too long since she'd had anything to eat.

She opened the bedroom door and peered out. There was no movement. The hall was bare, except for an ugly yellow stain on the wall.

Her stomach grumbled again, this time louder and more persistent. She pushed the door open and tiptoed down the hall.

She stopped cold when she saw Turner, spread bare-chested across the couch. Her breath caught in her throat and her mouth went dry. Holy shit was he built. One muscled arm covered his handsome face, the other lay limp across his chiselled abs. A blanket covered his lower half, but had fallen low, and Riley swallowed hard as she followed the thin line of dark hair down to the thick bulge beneath his low riding jeans.

Heat flushed her cheeks. It wasn't right to stare, but she couldn't pull her gaze away. His sun-bronzed skin was unmarked, except for a scar that ran up the length of his side. It was faint, but by the color and texture, she was sure it was a burn mark.

Her gaze lingered on his broad chest, before moving upwards to study his handsome face. In sleep, his strong angled features appeared younger than they had the day before. His full lips twitched down in a frown and he mumbled something incoherent. She allowed herself one final look before turning away and heading to the kitchen. All she needed was for him to wake up and find her watching him.

He wasn't even her type. Not that she had a type, but if she did, it certainly wasn't Turner Payne. He was too untamed, wild, sexy, alpha, primal…
hot
. Who was she kidding, he was every woman's type.

She scoffed inwardly. There was always an excuse. At least that's what Kiera would say. According to her sister, Riley was the queen of making excuses for her prudent lifestyle.

The meager contents in the fridge made her shake her head. She was able to salvage a few eggs, half a block of cheese, and an unopened jar of salsa. It wasn't much, but if she could find a frying pan, she could whip up a half-decent omelette.

There were a couple of mismatched pots and pans under the sink, and a bottle of unopened cooking oil. She placed her findings on the counter and got to work. She enjoyed cooking. After her mother had passed away, preparing meals had become her responsibility. Kiera, despite being the artist of the family, was a disaster in the kitchen. Her sister had nearly set the house on fire when she forgot to remove the cardboard base of a frozen pizza before she put it in the oven.

Riley's stomach tightened at the thought of her sister. Was she scared? Hungry? Had the animal taken over her mind completely?

The oil sizzled in the pan. She threw in the diced peppers and poured the whisked eggs over top. After breakfast, she would convince Turner to take her to see Kiera today. Somehow, she would figure out how to get them both out of this Twilight Zone nightmare.

Her mind drifted, replaying the events from the day before, pausing on the unexpected moment Turner had stripped. Broad shoulders, smouldering grey eyes, tuff of dark hair that trailed down his rock hard abs towards his—
Stop it, Riley!

She blew out an irritated, sexually frustrated breath.

The man was too hot for his own good—or her own good. She needed to stay focused on what mattered, because if she had to choose between sexy werelion guy and her sister, her choice was easy.

Turner leaned against the doorframe and watched Riley move around the kitchen. She mumbled under her breath. Her expression flickered between annoyed and aroused. She'd dressed in a pair of jeans that hugged her tight ass, and her red hair fell down her back in a sexy, tangled mess. Her mouth was swollen from sleep and his mind immediately went where it shouldn't—those sweet lips screaming his name while he buried himself deep between her legs.

He groaned silently. He'd woken up with one hell of a hard on. Her intoxicating scent had infused his dreams and made him rock hard.

Just being near her made him antsy as hell. She wasn't just any woman. She was Boyd's daughter. The man he'd supposedly killed. The man who was responsible for killing and mutilating hundreds, if not thousands, of metamorphs. The man who he believed without a shadow of a doubt was responsible for his mother's abduction.

The brutal memories of the months after his mother had gone missing were still fresh in his mind. It didn't matter that he'd only been a kid, there were some things a person could never forget—and his mother driving off in Boyd's black Cadillac just two days prior to her disappearance was one of them.

He'd given up too much to be sidetracked now.

"Good morning." He cleared his throat and stepped into the room.

A small gasp escaped her lips. She whirled towards him, a spatula in one hand and a jar of empty salsa in the other. Her gaze drifted down his torso and a fierce blush rolled up her neck, darkening her cheeks. "I wa-was just making breakfast."

"Perfect, I'm starving." He sat down at the island across from her and tried to ignore the way his heart began to race the moment she looked at him.

"Your fridge is a little empty."

"I've been out of town the past few days. We can make a stop at the grocery store later," he said, watching her. She cut the omelette in half and placed the larger piece on his plate. He eyed the food appreciatively. "A regular Giada De Laurentiis."

Riley's smile reached her eyes, softening her features. "You watch the Food Network?"

He shrugged. "She's hot."

She laughed and sat down beside him. "So you like older women."

He grinned and quirked an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

She lowered her gaze to her food and he could see the heat creep up her neck. He regretted the question immediately. Flirting was off limits.

"So, this whole shifter thing. How does it work?" she asked.

"What do you mean?'

"Do you live in packs, or..." She tucked her chin and poked at her eggs with her fork. "That sounded terrible, sorry. I didn't mean to imply…"

He leaned back in his chair and studied her. "Some do. Wolves and Coyotes are more likely to roam in packs. Bears and cats tend to be more solitary."

"Bears?" Her mouth dropped open.

"We come in all shapes and sizes." Winking, he flexed his muscles and grinned.

She turned an even darker shade of red and looked away, but not before he caught the quick dilation of her pupils when she glanced at his bare chest.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she shifted in her chair. Her arm brushed against his and she breathed in sharply.

The heat of that single touch burned through him. Part of him thought it was the adrenaline from yesterday that had created a heightened awareness of each other, but now…dammit, this was all fucking wrong. 

He took her plate when she was finished eating, and placed it in the sink. He turned, and leaned against the cupboard. She licked her lips, and it took all of his strength to not claim them as his own. He blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

"What?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent, as if she didn't know the effect she had on him.

His lion rumbled and it must have been audible because her breathing changed and she gripped the counter, standing abruptly. The movement stirred something primal within him. He could smell her desire. It tickled his senses and sent the blood rushing to his cock. But there was also reservation behind her eyes.

Walk away.
That was the best thing he could do. And he had every intention of doing it—but her gaze pulled to him, and before he could stop himself, he had her pinned against the wall, one hand wrapped around her waist, the other tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes were wide, but she didn't protest. She wanted him. And God, he wanted her.
Mine
, his animal growled. There was so much wrong with the entire situation, but in that moment, he didn't care.

He ran his thumb down her jaw. She shivered and closed her eyes.

One taste.

He dipped his head and her lips parted. She placed her palms on his chest and leaned in, the heat of her breath teasing his mouth. Her breath was choppy. Cupping her jaw, he traced the outline of her mouth with his thumb. His throat constricted—
fuck
.

What was he doing?

Her presence was like a tsunami, threatening to drown him if he didn't run fast. He was the king of throwing caution to the wind, but even he had his limits.

He pulled back and dropped his hands to his side.

She blinked at him, emotion swirling in her green eyes—a mixture of fear and desire.

"I didn't mean to…" He raked his fingers through his hair and put more distance between them.

A cool mask of calm came over her face, but he didn't miss the small tremble of her lower lip. She squared her shoulders and faced him.

"You said you'd take me to see my sister."

"Yeah," he grunted, both glad and oddly irritated that she'd changed the subject so quickly. "Let me shower and get dressed and we'll head out."

She nodded solemnly and moved to walk past him.

On instinct, or some other primal response that he didn't want to scrutinize, he reached for her arm. "Riley, wait."

She glanced down at his hand that was wrapped around her wrist and frowned.

"I appreciate what you're doing for me and Kiera." She took a deep breath and shivered, but kept her gaze down. "But I think it's best if we don't make things any more complicated than they already are."

He ran his thumb over the star-shaped pattern of freckles along her delicate wrist bone and sighed. A confusing rush of disappointment hit him. She was right, but that didn't calm the nagging beast within him.
She's not ours
, he reminded the animal. The lion snarled in response.

He dropped her hand and nodded. "I'll be ready in ten minutes."