Too Much to Lose (12 page)

“You did.” I can’t resist
letting my mouth curve upwards. She kissed me, but I don’t know if that’s a bad
or a good thing. While my pride basks in it, the voice inside that keeps
pulling at my gut wants to scream at her to run while she still can. I’m no
good for her. “But I kissed you back,” I point out. “And I should not have
been… er… touching you out there.”

She draws her bottom lip
between her teeth. “It’s okay.”

Hell, how do those two tiny
words send an arrow of need straight to my cock? It’s okay that I was kissing
her? Or touching her up? It’s okay that I want her so badly I nearly bent her
over my bike to fuck her?

Before I can dwell on it
anymore and make an even bigger fool of myself, I get to my feet. “Will you let
me stay?”

“I don’t think so. It’s too
risky.”

A hard knot forms in my throat.
I’m more dangerous to her than a crazed gunman it seems. She might be right.
If—
when
—I find that money, her whole life is going to come crashing
down.

“Don’t answer the door to anyone.
Be careful. Call me if you need me. In fact, call me tomorrow.” She follows me
to the door. “Please?” I add as uncertainty dashes across her face.

Jess opens the door and I step
out. “I’ll call you,” she says when I turn to face her.

“Promise?”

She rolls her eyes and her
mouth curves. “I promise.”

Those lush lips snare my
attention and my own smile drops. My skin feels hot and itchy, my pulse urgent.
This is insane. I rest an arm against the door frame, my feet still firmly
planted on the other side of the threshold and bring my mouth slowly down on
hers. She softens but doesn’t touch me. We’re divided by the invisible line between
the corridor and her room. I can’t help thinking of it as symbolic. We’re
divided by secrets and lies.

Not that any of that matters
once our lips connect. I swear I’ve never wanted to kiss a woman so much.
Kisses are about the end game. But not with Jess. I want to drown in her
kisses, to kiss her all day and see if I ever tire of them. I suspect it’s
unlikely.

This kiss is slow, sensual—far
from boring. It makes my insides feel like she’s thrown a lasso around them and
is pulling the rope tight, tying me to her and stealing my breath. If it’s
possible, my constant state of arousal grows worse.

A whimper from her snaps something
inside me—the rope she’s got me tied with perhaps—and I break away, step over
the threshold and urge her back with my palms on her shoulders. Hands on her
hips, I lift her onto the kitchen counter and eye her. I wait a moment for her
to tell me stop, for anything, but nothing comes and I don’t have the willpower
to walk away right now. Jess presses her palms to the counter top and stares me
down, daring and tempting me.  The door is still slightly open. I pray that’s
enough to control me. I won’t take her to bed. But I do need to kiss her some
more.

And maybe find out if those
breasts are as beautiful as I suspect.

Thumbs on her cheeks, I slip in
between her thighs. She cradles my hips perfectly as I tilt her face up and
slide a kiss along her cheek and lick the corner of her mouth. Her tongue darts
out to meet mine while her fingers curl into my jacket.

I drop my hands and find the
hem of her T-shirt. The skin underneath it is warm and smooth. Using a gentle
touch, I trace the waistband of her trousers and edge up over her ribs,
following each tiny bump. She’s so delicate I could snap her in two. Funny how
I didn’t notice that until now. In spite of the naivety about her, strength
still shines through Jess.

My finger skims the silk of her
bra and she gasps against my mouth. I work that finger under the material and
groan. Round, soft flesh teases me, begs to be cupped and shaped and flattened
against me. I move my lips down the arch of her neck and she tilts her head to
give me better access. I dart my tongue into the delicate recess under her ear
and savour the taste of her. The scent of coconuts surrounds me—from her hair,
I assume. I’m unable to resist drawing it in and relishing it.

When my mouth meets her
collarbone and too much material, I draw back to lift her top and pull down the
cups of that emerald green bra. Pink tips and skin paler than the rest of her
greets me, the perfect up-tilt of her breasts plead for my kiss. I swirl a
finger around each nipple and trace the faint lines of blue veins under her
skin.

Jess threads her fingers into
my hair—a silent invitation—and I bend to kiss the valley. She tastes tangy and
smells like heaven. I could lose myself there but she won’t let me. She urges
me over and I take a nipple into my mouth. Her exhale of gratification makes my
cock twitch. I nip and lave my tongue over the tight bud. When I go to clamp my
teeth over it, a strange sound breaks the moment and I pause.

“Y-your phone,” she says,
breathlessly.

I jolt upright and realize it’s
vibrating in my jacket pocket and playing some awful tune that tells me exactly
who it is.

The client. Her uncle.

Reluctantly, I pull it out and
slide to answer. “Hunter.” I let my gaze trail over Jess’s exposed breasts
until the voice at the other end drags my attention back to reality.

“Have you found the money yet?”
Carl asks.

“No, not yet,” I say through
clenched teeth.

“I’ve given you plenty of
time.”

I back toward the door and Jess
begins rearranging her bra and top. My stomach sinks. Could Carl have any worse
timing? “One more week. That’s all I need.”

“Hunter?” Jess jumps off the
counter.

“You’re with her?” Carl’s voice
is tinged with tension.

I place my hand over the
speaker and sigh. “Jess, I need to go. Work stuff,” I explain. “Call me?”

She nods and I study the colour
in her cheeks and her bright green eyes with regret. When she goes onto tiptoes
and kisses me on the cheek, as if I’m some good guy who’s not screwing with her
life, my heart sinks. Before I can weaken, I give her a wave and step out of
the apartment. She shuts the door slowly, keeping her gaze on me as I lift the
phone to my ear.

I spin on my heel and storm
down the steps. “Carl, I’m here.”

“You’ve got five days. If you
can’t get it done by then, you can say goodbye to that big fat cheque.”

“I’m doing everything I can. I’ll
find the damned money.”

“See that you do.”

“Where’s the money from, Carl?
What are you going to do if I find it?”

“What’s it to do with you?” he
splutters.

“I’m an investigator. It’s my
job to ask questions. If you can give me some more info it would make my job a
hell of a lot easier.” I step out into the street and stop by the Harley.
Leaning against it, I lift my gaze to Jess’s apartment and picture her in it,
stripping off her clothes... maybe taking a shower. Christ.

“Does it matter? She’s a thief.
Find out where it is and you’ll get your big payday and you can forget about
Jessica.”

“If you’re getting me involved
in something dodgy—”

“Five days, O’Reilly,” he barks
and the beep at the other end of the line tells me he’s hung up.

“Shit.” I scrape a hand through
my hair. “Shit, shit, shit.”

I scrub a hand across my face
run some calculations. If I don’t catch up on bills, I’m going under within a
month easily. Everything will be gone. I have no other jobs going on at the
moment as Carl was insisting this be top priority which means no money coming
in. I’ll be no better than my deadbeat alcoholic father and I’ll lose Mam’s
house.

I’ve got to find that money and
fast. I stare up at the concrete block in front of me once more and shake my
head. I’ve been going about this wrong. Instead of trying to trace the money
from the present, I should have been going from the past. Problem is, I got so
tied up in Jess, I’m barely able to think straight. Her past is the key here. I
need to do some digging.

Pulling up Mitch’s number, I
press dial and tap my foot. It’s Sunday. He should be around, but he could be
on a job. He’s been known to disappear at the last minute to an exotic destination
to guard someone famous. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice becoming
an investigator.

“Hey, man,” Mitch answers.

“Mitch, are you in? I need a favour.”

“Sure, just give me five
minutes.”

“Why?”

“Company.”

I smirk. Typical Mitch. While I
gave up women when Mam got sick, Mitch seemed to think it was his duty to sleep
with all the women in London in my stead. “I’m in Peckham at the moment
anyway.”

“See you in a bit then.”

I stuff my phone in my jacket,
put on my helmet and head over to Mitch’s in Pimlico—a far cry from Peckham.
Being a bodyguard to the rich and famous sure pays off. With a few savvy
investments, Mitch is now rolling in it. He has no idea I’m about to become
bankrupt and he’ll never know if I can help it. Money and friends do not mix. I
learned that the hard way.

It takes me almost half an hour
to get there. The big block building is nothing like the old apartment blocks
that blight the city. Made in a weird geometric design, the sandy coloured
building screams wealth. A fountain sits in front of it and trees are dotted
about the courtyard. The modern touch doesn’t do much for me but nor does the
dated design of my mother’s house.

By the time I get to his
apartment, whoever was keeping him company is gone. He ushers me in and hands
me an open bottle of beer. I take a drink and settle myself on the leather
couch. Everything is white and shiny in Mitch’s apartment. White walls, white
floor, white kitchen. He has a cleaner come in every day so it’s always
spotless.

Mitch sits opposite on a large
black recliner and rests his arms on his knees. He’s in a robe so I can guess
how he’s spent his Sunday. I can’t help feel envious. To spend a Sunday in bed
with Jess would be amazing.

Goddamn it. I doubt Mitch ever
has problems like this. He goes from woman to woman with no problem. With his
expensive haircut, chiselled jaw and pretty boy looks, he has no trouble keeping
them sweet either.

“What’s up, Hunter? You still
on a job.”

“Yeah, and I need some help.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Are you still seeing that
woman who works for Social Services?”

He shrugs. “On and off, yeah.”

“Do you think you can get some
info from her?”

Mitch scowls and runs a hand
through his short brown hair. “Probably. But what do you need from Social
Services?”

“The girl I’m investigating was
adopted by her aunt when her parents died. I want to know if she was ever
checked up on. She ran away from home. There’s got to be a reason for that. I
haven’t been able to find the aunt yet.”

“Name change perhaps?”

“Something like that. She was
already married so it can’t be that.”

“Could have got divorced,” he
suggests.

“I couldn’t find anything.”

“Give me the details and I’ll
see what I can get Holly to dig up. When do you need the info by?”

“ASAP. I’m on a tight deadline.
I’ve got to have this wrapped up by Friday.”

“Friday? Shit, man, Holly will
definitely figure something’s up if I just start pumping her for info without a
lead up. I haven’t called her in a few weeks.”

“Mitch, you’re the best at what
you do and that includes women. Just do your thing and get the info.”

Mitch laughs and leans back
against the black couch. “It’s a good job I love you, man. So what are you
going to be doing while I’m charming the beautiful Holly?”

“I’m not sure. I need to retrace
her steps. Find out exactly what she’s been doing these past couple of years.”

“What’s this about?”

“Money.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“The girl is a thief. Took a
lot of money from my client.”

Even as I say it, it feels
wrong. But the client has to be right. Why else the dodgy past and disguises?
Why pay to send me off on some wild goose chase? Jess
has
to have the
money and I need to stop conveniently forgetting that every time I want to kiss
her.

“And she’s still in the UK?”

“Yeah, weird, I know, but she
seems smart, this woman. Has a head for numbers and stuff. I can only guess
she’s figured some way of making more money and is biding her time.”

Mitch’s brows dart up. “Sounds
like you know her quite well….”

I grind my teeth, considering
how much to tell him. We might be close but he doesn’t need to know how much
I’m fucking my life up. “In a way.”

“And…?”

Eyes narrow, I glare at Mitch.
“And nothing. I’ve talked to her, tried to get some info and that’s it.”

Mitch raises an eyebrow but
doesn’t comment. I lean back, leather squeaking beneath me and drain the bottle
of beer. He laughs.