Savage Ending (Savage Trilogy 4)
“He says Kirk never left the hotel. He just walked back into the bar. I don’t know who you felt watching you last night, but after the way that fucktard was looking at you at the table, he’s our suspect tonight.”
“I don’t know if it’s him,” I say, “but,” I slide my hand into his, “I want to go home.”
“So I shouldn’t find the fucktard, beat the fucktard, and make him wish he was never born before we leave?”
“No,” I say precisely. “You should not. Take me home and undress me.”
“Well,” he says, “since you put it that way.”
He slides his arm around me, leads me out of the hotel, and helps me into the fancy new BMW 5 series he bought last month. And once he’s inside, behind the wheel, I’m not thinking of being watched by anyone but him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Candace
The car is warm from the heater, the spicy scent of Rick’s cologne teasing my nostrils and stirring my senses, but not wiping away my concerns.
Once we’re on the road, I rotate in my seat to study him, the streetlights cutting through the darkness, his chiseled jaw set tight. It’s a dead giveaway that all is not well, but then, I’d already figured that out. “What happened?” I ask, getting straight to the point.
“I went in, the big bad boss, and got it done. And here I am.” He shoots me a look, his lips curved slightly, and gives me a little wink.
From the day I met this man, he’s always used charm and jokes, among other methods of distraction, to protect himself and shelter others. But in doing so, he pushes people away. He should know that doesn’t work with me.
“Rick,” I press softly but firmly.
He draws a breath, turns a corner, and then casts me a look. “It didn’t go perfectly,” he says, his tone serious now. “But I’m home.”
“What does ‘it didn’t go perfectly’ mean?”
His cellphone rings. He reaches for it and I say, “Don’t answer it. Not until you tell me what happened.”
He glances at the screen and then me and says, “I need to take this,” before he punches the answer button and greets his caller with “Yeah, man.” He listens a minute. “And?” He’s silent again. “No.” His tone darkens. “I said no.” He hangs up and pulls the car to the front of our building, places it in park, and glances at me. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I don’t push. Not now. Something is going on and it’s not good. And I don’t even care about the timing just before our wedding. I care about Rick’s safety. The doorman opens my door, and I step outside into the chill of the night that is somehow chillier with the impact of tonight’s events. Rick is instantly right beside me, his big body sheltering mine from the wind. Which would be wonderful if it wasn’t so completely symbolic of all the ways his need to shelter me has destroyed us in the past.
I tell myself this is now. The past is the past. He hands off the keys to the doorman and says, “If you play, you pay. It’s not always worth it, either.”
The doorman, a young kid I’ve never seen before, blanches, and looks confused. Savage laughs, and throws his arm around me, setting us in motion. He enjoys his witchery of words that fuck with people’s heads, but somewhere in the depth of everything he says is a little piece of brilliance. And often, something not as gentle as it may seem, something dark. We enter the building, and I decide it’s almost as if he’d been talking to himself, not the kid.
“You play, you pay?” I ask, glancing up at him.
“Wise words from a man who hasn’t been wise,” he assures me, leaning in and kissing me before he punches the elevator button.
And I have my confirmation.
You play, you pay holds meaning.
One I’m no doubt going to understand soon.
Once we’re inside the elevator, he gives me no chance to ask the questions I need to ask. He keys in our floor and then his hand is under my hair, his palm against my skin, stealing my breath a moment before his mouth lowers just above mine, his breath a warm tease that promises a kiss. And I want that kiss. God, how I want it.
“I missed you,” he says, his voice a low rasp of emotion. “So damn much.”
“I missed you, too,” I whisper, and then his lips press to mine and I’m leaning into him, into the moment, into the slide of his tongue. Warmth spreads through me as I taste the two sides of Rick I know so well—the tenderness of a man who loves me, and the demand, the dominance, of a man with too much to ever forget, but he tries.