“I know where she lives,” Saldana said quietly.
I caught the undercurrent. One of his exes? I knew about Heather, now Maris, and who else? If there were a few more, he rivaled me for busted relationships.
A half smile curved her mouth. “I suppose you do. I don’t recommend you risk a hotel, though. You’ll need protection and there’s nowhere safer than right here. You can borrow the guest apartment upstairs.”
“Why are you being so nice?” There had to be a catch.
Saldana frowned at me even as she replied, “It often proves helpful to have people in my debt, Corine. You would do well to remember that.”
Right. Her kindness concealed a mercenary bent. Oddly that reassured me. Since I didn’t want to be awakened by flying glass, I decided to accept her offer.
Before standing, I downed my drink. “I’m pretty tired. Can we go up?”
“Certainly. Jesse knows the way. It was a pleasure meeting you.” As I reached the door, following Saldana, she added, “By the way, you’ve carried the weight of a lie your whole life. Your father didn’t leave. He was taken. More patterns than you know bind you and your former lover.”
I would have turned, asked more, but Saldana took hold of my arm, leading me along the dark hallway toward some stairs. “That was meant to tempt you,” he explained, “but to get more information from her now, you’d need to offer something else. I don’t think you’re in any shape to do another reading, and anything else would be . . .” He trailed off, letting me interpret the kind of thing Twila might ask.
I shivered. “Thanks.”
Between residual nausea and the tequila spiking through my veins, I felt both euphoric and shaky. Saldana kept his hand on me as we climbed to the next landing, where he opened the first door. We stepped through to a flat I could only describe as witchy, full of cut crystal figurines and blue velvet.
Two more steps and I collapsed on the overstuffed couch. Jesse sank down beside me, his hand hovering as though he didn’t know what to do but wanted to do something. After a moment I managed a smile but it came from a place that hurt, newly raw.
“I should have warned you. Twila can be . . . intense. And she is assuredly not to be trusted, but she isn’t one of your enemies, which makes her an ally, if a dangerous one.”
“Enemies. You say that as if you’re sure I have loads.” I tried to laugh.
His bitter chocolate eyes turned somber. “You’re too wary for it to be otherwise, Corine. I’ve never met anyone more . . .”
Broken? Closed? I waited for the word confirming me as one of his pet projects. I felt a soft sinking inside because that would mean he could never see me as a person, only something in dire need of fixing.
Then he shook his head. His arm came around my shoulders, as if he’d finally made up his mind what he should do. “Lean on me until you feel better. It’s all right.”
I suspected he’d said that many times over the course of his checkered career, but in that moment, I weakened. His chest felt warm and strong against my head. I closed my eyes, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Bit by bit, the nausea receded, left me with the dull throb of my seared hand.
An empathic cop for a mentor. Who would’ve ever imagined I’d wind up with such a thing? That suggested an avuncular relationship, but the way he held me didn’t feel entirely paternal. I liked his quiet strength and his heat, perhaps a little too much. Too easily I could lose myself in sex. I imagined leading him to the bedroom and lying down on smooth sheets, imagined rough breathing and the sweet tangle of limbs.
Jesse rested his chin on my hair until I sat up. “I’m fine now. We should—”
By the lambent light in his eyes, I could tell he sensed my mood, if not the specific thoughts. He licked his lips and pulled his hands away from me.
“The worst thing about this,” he said hoarsely, “is that I don’t always know what I want. I feel what other people do . . . and it’s hard to separate their desires from my own, particularly when it’s raw lust. It’s easier when it’s a girlish crush since I’m not susceptible to those. But sheer, animal sex . . . yeah. I’m prone to that.”
I didn’t touch him, but I wanted his mouth, and he knew it. “Then you already know I’m in the mood for a quick, hard fuck. I don’t want sweet words or promises. I want a hot body on top of me, and that’s all, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
Jesse exhaled shakily. He swayed toward me. “It’s sounding better by the second.”
“Would you want me if you weren’t echoing my impulses?” That was it, I realized. “Am I your type?”
Soul of Discretion
“I don’t know,” he said in frustration. “No, I didn’t take one look at you and imagine doing you on my desk yesterday. But I don’t have a type either. Right now you look fine and you smell great.” He spoke the last word on a growl.
My heart pounded. Much as I wanted to give over, I couldn’t. Part of me felt it was one thing to leave Chance wondering whether I had and quite another to do it. I also couldn’t lay down with Jesse without knowing for sure he wanted me back. Me, not an echo of my own lust—that seemed too close to masturbation. Not that I object to such, but if I’m going to do that, I might as well get on with it and not catch some poor cop in the backlash.
“It’s not a good idea,” I repeated. “I’m going to get some sleep.”
Saldana dropped his head into his hands and his voice came out muffled. “Second bedroom on the right. I think I’ll take a shower.”