Lace & Lead

“At least it was a few years ago,” Kai chimed in.

“I...I was just going to check into an inn.”

Taggart snorted and her temper flared. Again. “And why shouldn’t I do that?”

“Have you ever checked into an inn before?”

She hated his condescension. “No,” she responded primly. “But it can’t be that hard.”

“Oh, no, it’s not,” he agreed, but she could hear the biting sarcasm in his voice. “Too bad they require palm and retinal scans. An account chip on file in case of damages to the room. Not so useful for people who are trying not to be found.”

Douglass turned to her, worry in his dark eyes. “If Richard Stone is involved, you can be sure that he’s flagging any scan you show up in.”

“Isn’t worth the risk,” Kai said seriously.

She swallowed, realising she was still out of her element. Taggart looked at her lazily over his shoulder. “So...my place.”

Oh, the taste of defeat was bitter. “Fine.”

“Great.” He motioned for Douglass to start up the Stallion. “You can drop us off at the service elevator.”

“Service elevator?”

“No cameras.” He chuckled at the expression on her face. “The better half never wants to see how their servants live, Miss Gregson. I guess privacy is a benefit of being one of the mindless rabble.”

The service elevator was not at all what she’d expected. True, there was trash strewn on that lower level of the underground garage, but the elevator itself was somewhat clean. She and Taggart had exited the Stallion after he promised to update the men on any new developments. Standing beside him in the tiny metal box, especially now that she could fully appreciate how intimidating his body armour and small weapons cache made him, was comforting and maddening at the same time.

Taggart wasn’t looking at her. In fact, since they’d exited the Stallion, he’d made a concerted effort to pretend she didn’t exist. The numbers ticked slowly higher.

She asked, “Do you live at the top?”

His look was all amusement, but didn’t extend past his eyes. “The penthouse? Hell no. There are better things to spend money on.”

“Like what?”

“Guns. Toys.”

Her mind flashed to the neon advertisements they’d passed rolling through the red light district. He’d teased her about her naivety when she’d asked what they were for.

“Oh. I see.”

This time he actually threw his head back and laughed. The breath left her body at the same instant a wave of heat flashed through her. His laughter was rich, deep and rumbled in his broad chest. But when he was done, he looked her straight in the eye and smiled.

Books she’d read had claimed that a man’s smile could make one’s knees buckle, but it had never happened to her personally. At least, not until now. It softened all the harsh angles of his face and the dirt smudges only heightened the whiteness of his teeth.

“Not those kinds of toys,” he said in a lazily sensual tone.

Her cheeks were burning, but she was grateful for his tact. Coming from a blue-blooded family, she knew she was embarrassingly innocent on the subject of sex. Still, she expected him to take advantage of that and use the knowledge to put her in her place. Instead, he sidestepped the clear opportunity to shame.

She cleared her throat. “Um, what did you mean then?”

“Vehicles. Aircraft. You know, mechanical stuff.”

That made sense. He wore mechanic’s gloves, assorted tools had their places on his belt and, on more than one, occasion she’d seen him leaving the estate’s garage with his welding goggles resting comfortably atop his head; they were currently hanging from a belt loop.

“You like building things?”

“Building, fixing, whatever.”