“Uh, canvases?” Wyatt’s voice rose with curiosity. “What canvases?”
She was still looking at the smoke. “There were paintings inside but . . . there won’t be anything left of them now.”
“A painting of Bailey, tied up on that bastard’s bed, with stab wounds all over her.” Asher’s voice was chilling. “And a painting of that freak who took her—all decked out in his ski mask.”
“The paintings just show that she was there, at the cabin,” Bailey said as her gaze jerked toward him. “They confirm that other victim was Carla.” I was never crazy. And she was here—all along. So very close.
Silence.
“I think you should take her home.” Wyatt nodded toward Asher. “You both need to go get cleaned up and get out of here before the reporters start swarming again. This story is freaking exploding . . .”
Such a bad choice of words.
“I’ll let you know when we have Carla in custody.” Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “You two just—try to play things low-key for a while, okay?”
The reporters had already arrived. Bailey saw them filming from across the street.
She knew exactly what would be showing on the six o’clock news that night.
Another death-defying adventure in the life of Bailey Jones.
“I’m going to stay here,” Ana said, lifting her chin up and seeming to square her shoulders. “I want to talk to the firefighters and try to figure out what sort of accelerant was used. I figure I can learn if we’re dealing with an amateur or if there’s a signature with this blaze.”
A what now? Bailey’s brows shot up.
But Asher just said, “Call me when you’re done.” He gave his sister another hug and because they were all standing so close, Bailey overheard Ana say . . .
“Be careful with her, Asher. Be very careful. There are risks . . . you know there are. Especially with someone like her.”
Bailey actually took a step back, her mouth dropping open in shock. Had Asher’s twin just warned him that Bailey was some kind of—of what? Villain? A threat? Why in the world would he need to be careful with me?
Asher looped his arm around Bailey’s shoulders. As they walked away from the smoking scene, she couldn’t help but stiffen beneath his touch. “You shouldn’t be doing this.”
His hold tightened as he brought her even closer. “Why not?”
She pointed to the reporters. “You’re just giving them more fuel. Making them want to dig even harder into your life.”
He laughed. Laughed. They were covered in bruises and soot and the guy dared to laugh in the middle of that chaos. “Let them dig. I told you before, I don’t care.”
They were near her car. Luckily, they’d parked it far enough down the road that it had been spared any major damage. Soot and ash just covered the exterior. He opened her door and she hesitated. “Your job is over.”
A furrow appeared between his eyes.
“We found the missing victim. You did exactly what I hired you to do.” Actually, he’d gone way above and beyond the call of duty by saving her life. And now she was wondering . . . was he going to leave? Are we finished now?
“My job isn’t over.” His words were almost a growl.
“But you don’t—”
“Do you think I’m going to leave you while a killer is out there? Playing some crazy-ass game with you?” He gave a grim shake of his head. “That isn’t who I am.”
She climbed into the car. When he slammed her door shut, her fingers curled around the steering wheel. A few moments later, he was in the passenger seat. She should crank the vehicle. Get them out of there. But . . . “I don’t want you to get killed.” Because it hadn’t just been her in that shop. He’d come far too close to burning. And if something happened to Asher . . . “I don’t want you in danger.”
But he laughed again. “Aw, sweetheart, danger is what I live for.”
Her head turned toward him. “An adrenaline rush is one thing. Death is quite another.”
His hand curled around the nape of her neck. He brought her head in closer to his. And he kissed her. Deep. Hard. Sensually. His tongue pushed past her lips and he tasted her, savored her. Aroused her.
“I don’t plan for either of us to die,” Asher rasped against her lips.
Good. Because that wasn’t on her to-do list, either.
She drew in a deep breath, tasted him once more. Her hands were shaking when she started her car.
Carla Drake had a death grip on the steering wheel. None of this shit should be happening. None.
She looked down at her knuckles and saw that asshole reporter’s blood on her. “Shit!” She yanked back her hand and rubbed it over her shirt. She hadn’t meant to stab him, but some primitive instinct had kicked in when he’d been threatening her, and she’d attacked.
So maybe she’d been dealing with some anger issues in the last six months. Wasn’t she entitled? And it wasn’t as if she could go talking to some shrink about what the hell was going on. That wasn’t happening.
I just wanted to be left alone. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone?
Only . . . it hadn’t been they. It had been one woman. Only one knew about her.
Bailey Jones.
I left you alone, Bailey. You should have given me the same fucking courtesy. But, oh, no, the woman who hogged all the TV airtime had just had to go out and wreck things for Carla.
Carla braked at a red light.
Where do I go? What am I supposed to do now?
The cabin was out. Her house was out. The shop—ha! Hardly. If things had gone according to plan, the place should be a pile of ashes.
Her hand reached for the camera. So she’d stolen it. Hardly the worst act she’d ever committed in her life. Her fingers pushed on the side and she got the images to appear for her. She immediately deleted the shots of herself.
She frowned at the pictures of Bailey Jones and that mystery guy. What had his name been? Ace? Allan? Something with an A . . .
Those two sure looked chummy in the photos on Spawn’s camera. Like, lover chummy.
She swiped past those pics, curious now about what other shots the reporter might have taken.
A new image appeared. One that was outside of a house. Bailey’s house because, yes, she knew where the other woman lived.
She pressed the button to look at more photos.
And . . .
“Oh, my God . . .”
A car horn honked behind her and Carla dropped the camera. It fell down to the floorboard even as her foot pressed down hard on the accelerator, flooring the car and making it surge forward.
Oh, my God . . .
Sweat slickened Carla’s body as she tried to figure out just what the hell she should do. If she should do anything.
Or if she should just watch her own ass.
Save my own hide . . .
Chapter Ten
“So . . . that was your sister?” Bailey’s voice seemed guarded as Asher followed her into her house. She reset the alarm quickly and turned back toward him. “She seemed . . . um, nice?”
“Fuck. I didn’t introduce you.” Okay, so he was an idiot sometimes and he’d been distracted by the raging inferno that they’d barely escaped. “Yes, that was Ana. I figured she’d show up here after my call to her last night.” It wasn’t like he could phone and say he’d found a dying woman without Ana coming in like the cavalry she was.
Bailey’s hands twisted in front of her. “I don’t think she liked me very much.”
“What?” He shook his head. “You’re wrong. She’s just—” Reserved. That was a serious understatement for his twin.
“I heard what she said to you. About being careful with me. That there were risks.” Bailey’s hands were still twisting. He’d come to recognize that nervous habit for a sign that Bailey was on edge. “Just what is it that she thinks I’m going to do?”
He stilled. That warning from Ana hadn’t been about Bailey, not at all. If anythi
ng, Ana had been telling Asher to be careful and not hurt her. Because Bailey was good and sweet and when Asher looked at her, he could practically see picket fences behind her.
Only he’d never been the picket-fence type.
My sister was telling me to watch my ass and not hurt you.
“I’m pretty sure,” Asher said, trying to choose his words carefully, “that she realized I was . . . involved with you.”
Her cheeks stained red. “What? It was just—just the once!”
But he wanted more. Asher frowned at her.
“Did you tell her?” Now she was horrified.
“Twins.” He shrugged. “The woman knows me. She probably read my body language. She’s good at that.” Or she’d just noticed the frantic look in his eyes when he’d stared at Bailey. Too close to losing her. He’d never forget the fear he felt as he ran from that shop. Another few seconds. A hesitation that went too long . . .
“And she thinks I’m dangerous . . . somehow . . . to you?” Bailey glanced down at her hands. “Why?”
“That isn’t what she thinks.”
Bailey swallowed. He saw the delicate movement of her throat. “I need to go shower. Get this soot off so I can stop smelling like a fire. You can use the guest bath. We’ll both probably feel a lot better in a few moments.” She turned away from him, but stopped. “Thank you for saving me.” Bailey glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze—I’ll never get used to that green shade—found his. “And thank you for sticking around. It really means a lot to me.”
She padded down the hallway.
Asher just stood there, frozen, searching for words that wouldn’t come. You mean a lot to me. More than just some casual fling. His sister knew that he’d had plenty of lovers—lovers that were there for a fleeting time and then gone from his life. Because after the hell that he and Ana had endured, Asher had made one vow . . .
No one else will matter. No one else will matter so much that I die inside when that person is hurt. That I am willing to beg and kill and die to stop that person’s pain. No one else can ever matter that much.
So he’d put up walls. He’d gone for casual sex. He’d frozen out all emotion.
And then he’d walked into a conference room and seen the infamous Bailey Jones standing there. He’d taken her hand in his. Heard her voice drift around him. Her scent had seduced him and then she’d smiled.
I am in so much fucking trouble.
Because his emotions weren’t frozen any longer. They were burning as hot as that damn fire at the art shop. He was out of control—feeling too wild and rough and desperate. Desperate to stop anything bad from happening to her. Wild because he wanted her so much, but he wanted her his way . . .
No control.
No boundaries.
Nothing but pleasure.
“Hell.” His breath heaved out as he marched away and pulled out his phone. Luckily, it had survived the hell of the day. He dialed Gabe and—
“Jesus Christ,” Gabe snapped. “Do you know how damn worried I was today? Thank fuck that Ana was on the scene and she updated me!”
“I’m glad you sent her in, too.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Having Ana here . . . she’s what I need.” His sister would always watch his back. He had no doubt about that.
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” Gabe blustered. “But I guess since you were battling fire you were a bit busy.”
Serious damn understatement.
“We ran the check on the shrink.”
Asher glanced down the hallway. Had Bailey turned on the shower yet? He didn’t hear it.
“The guy got a big deposit in his bank account recently.”
His muscles tightened. “What kind of deposit?”
“The kind you get when you sell someone out.” Gabe’s disgust was obvious. “A publishing house was listed on the check. Yeah, I got a copy—don’t ask me how—”
Asher hadn’t planned to ask him.
“Did some more digging and found out that good old Dr. Leigh is writing some kind of book on serial killers and their victims . . . convenient, don’t you think?”
Asher didn’t think it was convenient. He thought it was a fucking major betrayal of trust. As if Bailey doesn’t have enough pain. “Knew I could count on you.”
“Yeah, well, my advice is to not count on the shrink. Because he has to be violating about a hundred ethical codes if he is writing a book on Bailey. Find the guy—interrogate the hell out of him.”
He would. But first . . . “I have to take care of something else. I’ll check in soon.” He put down the phone. Turned and hurried down the hallway. Bailey had been betrayed again. She didn’t deserve that.
She should never be hurt.
His steps quickened as he neared the shut door. He could hear the rush of water in the shower. She’d finally turned it on.
Was she already naked in there? And if he went in after her, would she kick his ass out? He hoped not because right then, he needed her.
No more betrayals. No more pain. Not for either of us.
His hands gripped the door frame. “Bailey.” Her name came out as ragged whisper. He could do better than that shit, right? He could be charming. He could try. For her, he could do anything.
His hand lifted and he rapped against the door. “Bailey.”
No answer. Maybe she couldn’t hear him over the thunder of the shower. He’d done this before. Gone to this door. Knocked for her. She hadn’t answered and he’d opened the door and seen her beautiful body.
He’d gotten so erect right then, so fast, he’d sworn all of the blood in his body had gone straight to his cock.
But he wasn’t about to open that door again. No way. If she heard him, if she wanted him to come inside . . .
Her choice. Always . . . her. I won’t add to her pain. Not ever.
He knocked again. “Bailey, I—”
This time, the door swung open. Bailey was there, with a white towel wrapped around her body. Her hair was still dry; she still had a small smudge of soot on her cheek and on her neck, so he knew she hadn’t gotten in the shower, not yet.
His tongue felt too thick in his mouth and, once again, his cock was surging against the front of his jeans. I should tell her about the shrink. I should—
“Asher, what is it?”
She was so beautiful. Steam drifted in the air behind her. All he could think was that she looked like some kind of angel, standing in the clouds. An angel . . .
And I almost lost her.
“I was scared as all hell today.” His confession came out rough and stumbling. “If anything had happened to you . . .”
Her brows rose. “You think I wasn’t scared?” Her head tilted as she studied him. “You were behind me, every step of the way. You were the one taking the brunt of the fire. I was so afraid that you’d be the one to burn. That I’d look back and see flames running over your body. I—I couldn’t handle that. I needed you to be safe, too.”
“I never want you hurt.” The words were nearly guttural as they came from him. Something was happening inside of Asher. He couldn’t hold back. Maybe because she was too important. “I see the pain in your eyes, and it fucking cuts me apart. I hate it. I want to do anything I can to take it away. I want to protect you, every single moment.”
“No one can be protected every moment.” Her words were soft, almost sad.
And there it was again. His hand lifted and his knuckles softly stroked her cheek. “I wish I could take that away, too.”
A furrow appeared between her eyes. “Your sadness. The ache that you try to keep hidden inside.” But he knew it was there. “I wish I could make you happy. Give you good memories to replace all the bad ones.”
Her lower lip trembled, but then she lifted her chin. “You think I don’t feel the same way, with you?”
“Bailey . . .”
“You think I don’t see your shadows, too? Your pain? Your sadness? Maybe, Asher, maybe we’re just alike. Two lost souls, coming
together. Rushing toward hell together.” She paused. “Or maybe it’s toward heaven. I’m not sure yet.”
He was pretty sure. If Bailey was there, they were rushing toward heaven.
She exhaled on a long breath. “How about we take the pain away, together?”
He would do anything she wanted.
“Let’s make more of those good memories. See how they can fight the dark ones.”
His head moved in a quick nod.
“I need you, Asher.” Then her hands rose and she unknotted the towel. It fell into a puddle at her feet. “I need you,” Bailey said once more.
Like he had to be told twice. The woman had him. Asher stepped forward and his arms swept around her. He pulled her close and took her mouth. He tried to hold on to his control, but her nails dug into his bare shoulders and he liked that hard sting.
Then she took his lower lip and nibbled on it. A quick bite, then a sensual swipe with her tongue. A ragged groan broke from him.
“Oh, Asher . . .” She whispered this against his mouth. “You think I don’t know what you really want?”
I don’t want to scare you. I never want you to fear me.
“Give us what we both want,” Bailey said. “Give us what we need. Let’s race to paradise together, with nothing holding us back.” She pushed against his shoulders, and he took an instinctive step back.
The better to watch her as she turned away and rolled her hips as she headed toward the shower.
Perfect ass. Perfect.
She stepped into the shower. The water poured over her, soaking her hair and then sliding over her breasts, her stomach, down to her sex.
He threw out a hand and grabbed on to the granite counter of her sink. “Bailey . . .” He should warn her.
“I’m on the pill,” she told him. “And I’m clean. I already told you, I haven’t been with anyone else in months.”
No one except that asshole Royce.
But wait, was she saying . . .
“I’m clean, too,” Asher managed. He’d never gone without protection before. Not with any other lover, but he sure wanted to be that way with her. Skin to skin. Sex to sex.