Ignited
Page 20
The work was detailed and beautiful, and I had no idea why he’d gotten such a large, involved tattoo. I assumed it meant something to him, but when Sloane had asked him once, he’d brushed the question away, and I had never tried to press the point.
Despite the dragon’s beauty, the image was edgy, and it gave the illusion that Cole was unpredictable and wild.
Then again, that wasn’t really an illusion, was it?
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said as he brought me a shot of whiskey, straight up.
“Let me guess,” I said dryly. “We have to talk.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “It would be a good idea.”
He sat in the chair opposite me, still wearing only the towel that was now stretched taut across his knees. I could see the shadow beneath the towel leading up to the juncture of his thighs. And though I could see nothing in those shadows, I could imagine. And I could want.
And I could get very, very distracted.
I lifted a brow and then nodded toward the towel. “Is this why you’re so successful in business? You know how to keep the other party on edge?”
“I do,” he said. “Though in most business meetings I’m fully clothed.”
“More’s the pity,” I said, and made him laugh.
“Give me a minute.” He got up, then moved to the far side of the room where a pair of gray sweatpants hung over the back of a chair. He dropped the towel, and I drew a sharp breath in response to the unexpected—and quite exceptional—view of his bare ass.
All too soon, he pulled on the sweats and turned back to me, and though he was now modestly covered, the view was still pretty damn enticing.
“I made a mistake,” he said without preamble. “The other morning on the phone. And I made a bigger one the night before that.”
“You’re wrong,” I said calmly. “But it doesn’t matter. Not right now. That’s not why I’m here.”
But it was, though. I’d come for me as much as for my father. And I was determined to walk out of this room with everything I wanted.
That was my plan—now I just had to make it fly.
He eyed me uncertainly for a moment, then sat across from me. “All right,” he said. “Tell me.”
I did, laying it all out for him. I left out the part about my childhood, about growing up in the grift. But I told him what my dad did. I told him about Muratti. I told him about needing someone to forge the will.
I told him more than enough to incriminate my dad, not to mention pull me into the web for conspiracy. In other words, I put my life and my dad’s life in Cole August’s hands. I did it because I trusted him. Because I’d seen the good that he’d done for the girls at Destiny, and I knew where his heart lay.
I thought I did, anyway.
I damn sure hoped I wasn’t wrong.
“Where is your dad now?”
“I drove him around for about an hour making sure we didn’t have a tail, then I checked him into the Windy City Motor Inn. You know. That ratty-looking place about a mile from Destiny.”
“I know it,” Cole said. “Fake name?”
“Of course. And we paid cash. He knows not to leave the room, not to charge phone calls to his credit card, not to call me on his cell phone, yada yada. I got him a burner in case he has an emergency.” I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “He knows the drill.”
“Sounds like it. Sounds like you do, too.”
I met his eyes. Felt that shock of connection. “I told you,” I said. “I’m really not innocent.”
I kept my voice low, my meaning clear. And I could see on his face that he knew what I meant—and what I wanted.
Dear god, how I wanted. I wasn’t doing anything right then but sitting across from him, and yet I could feel him as tangibly as if he was touching me. The rough calluses on his hands. The smooth, taut muscles of his thighs. Those lips that I wanted pressed against me, exploring me.
How had I come to this? I felt as if my whole life I’d been walking around made of some sort of combustible material, and I’d only just realized it. I’d been safe, so long as I stayed away from a spark.
But then I’d edged too close to Cole and he’d ignited me. I was going to burn—that much was inevitable. But dammit, I wanted to pull him into the fire with me.
He sat watching me, silent, waiting for me to go on. But I didn’t know what else to say. “So that’s it,” I finally said. “Will you help?”
“What makes you think I can?”
“I know about the Da Vinci,” I said, referring to a forgery of a famous Da Vinci notebook that I knew he’d created years ago.
His brow lifted almost imperceptibly. “What Da Vinci?”
I cocked my head. “The one that’s in Angie and Evan’s condo. Do I really need to elaborate? Or maybe I should recite the litany of your various criminal activities over the years? I’ve been right here, remember? I’ve seen a lot. And I understand what I see.”
There was a moment of silence, and then he leaned back in his seat, so cool and so casual that it was easy to see how he’d become so powerful. Nothing rattled the man. Or, at least, nothing rattled him until he exploded. And then the entire world shook.
“If I’m understanding you right, you’re looking to retain the services of someone who could forge a holographic will.”
“I am,” I said after a brief moment’s hesitation. “Honestly, I don’t know what else to do.” The truth was, I understood what giving that forged will to Muratti would do—it would put the old man at risk. But right then, right there, I had to think about my dad. And hope that somehow, some way, everything would work out.
“Even if I could find someone to retain, why should I?”
“Because I’m here and because I’m asking,” I said. “And because I need your help.” I thought of the girls at Destiny that the knights had been helping for years. I thought of the art students that Cole taught in his nonexistent free time, and the professional artists like Tiki who he mentored.
He wouldn’t deny me—I was certain of that. And, yes, I was playing a game and using his good nature to roll the dice, but I had a feeling that in my position, Cole would do the same.
“All right,” he said. “Done.” He rose, then moved across the room to get another drink.
I watched him go, appreciating the view, but also feeling a bit shell-shocked. “That’s it? No negotiation? No back and forth?”
“Disappointed?”
I shook my head. “How long will it take to make up the forgery?”
He leaned against the bar and took a long sip of his whiskey. “I’m not going to make a forgery.”
“But you said—”
“I said that I’d help. I didn’t say how.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but shut it again almost immediately. I wanted a solution that didn’t require a forgery, after all. And considering the kinds of deals and schemes Cole manipulated and skirted every second of every day, I was confident that he could come up with a plan that both made sense and kept my father—and the property owner—alive.
“All right,” I said. “I trust you.”
Despite the dragon’s beauty, the image was edgy, and it gave the illusion that Cole was unpredictable and wild.
Then again, that wasn’t really an illusion, was it?
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said as he brought me a shot of whiskey, straight up.
“Let me guess,” I said dryly. “We have to talk.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “It would be a good idea.”
He sat in the chair opposite me, still wearing only the towel that was now stretched taut across his knees. I could see the shadow beneath the towel leading up to the juncture of his thighs. And though I could see nothing in those shadows, I could imagine. And I could want.
And I could get very, very distracted.
I lifted a brow and then nodded toward the towel. “Is this why you’re so successful in business? You know how to keep the other party on edge?”
“I do,” he said. “Though in most business meetings I’m fully clothed.”
“More’s the pity,” I said, and made him laugh.
“Give me a minute.” He got up, then moved to the far side of the room where a pair of gray sweatpants hung over the back of a chair. He dropped the towel, and I drew a sharp breath in response to the unexpected—and quite exceptional—view of his bare ass.
All too soon, he pulled on the sweats and turned back to me, and though he was now modestly covered, the view was still pretty damn enticing.
“I made a mistake,” he said without preamble. “The other morning on the phone. And I made a bigger one the night before that.”
“You’re wrong,” I said calmly. “But it doesn’t matter. Not right now. That’s not why I’m here.”
But it was, though. I’d come for me as much as for my father. And I was determined to walk out of this room with everything I wanted.
That was my plan—now I just had to make it fly.
He eyed me uncertainly for a moment, then sat across from me. “All right,” he said. “Tell me.”
I did, laying it all out for him. I left out the part about my childhood, about growing up in the grift. But I told him what my dad did. I told him about Muratti. I told him about needing someone to forge the will.
I told him more than enough to incriminate my dad, not to mention pull me into the web for conspiracy. In other words, I put my life and my dad’s life in Cole August’s hands. I did it because I trusted him. Because I’d seen the good that he’d done for the girls at Destiny, and I knew where his heart lay.
I thought I did, anyway.
I damn sure hoped I wasn’t wrong.
“Where is your dad now?”
“I drove him around for about an hour making sure we didn’t have a tail, then I checked him into the Windy City Motor Inn. You know. That ratty-looking place about a mile from Destiny.”
“I know it,” Cole said. “Fake name?”
“Of course. And we paid cash. He knows not to leave the room, not to charge phone calls to his credit card, not to call me on his cell phone, yada yada. I got him a burner in case he has an emergency.” I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “He knows the drill.”
“Sounds like it. Sounds like you do, too.”
I met his eyes. Felt that shock of connection. “I told you,” I said. “I’m really not innocent.”
I kept my voice low, my meaning clear. And I could see on his face that he knew what I meant—and what I wanted.
Dear god, how I wanted. I wasn’t doing anything right then but sitting across from him, and yet I could feel him as tangibly as if he was touching me. The rough calluses on his hands. The smooth, taut muscles of his thighs. Those lips that I wanted pressed against me, exploring me.
How had I come to this? I felt as if my whole life I’d been walking around made of some sort of combustible material, and I’d only just realized it. I’d been safe, so long as I stayed away from a spark.
But then I’d edged too close to Cole and he’d ignited me. I was going to burn—that much was inevitable. But dammit, I wanted to pull him into the fire with me.
He sat watching me, silent, waiting for me to go on. But I didn’t know what else to say. “So that’s it,” I finally said. “Will you help?”
“What makes you think I can?”
“I know about the Da Vinci,” I said, referring to a forgery of a famous Da Vinci notebook that I knew he’d created years ago.
His brow lifted almost imperceptibly. “What Da Vinci?”
I cocked my head. “The one that’s in Angie and Evan’s condo. Do I really need to elaborate? Or maybe I should recite the litany of your various criminal activities over the years? I’ve been right here, remember? I’ve seen a lot. And I understand what I see.”
There was a moment of silence, and then he leaned back in his seat, so cool and so casual that it was easy to see how he’d become so powerful. Nothing rattled the man. Or, at least, nothing rattled him until he exploded. And then the entire world shook.
“If I’m understanding you right, you’re looking to retain the services of someone who could forge a holographic will.”
“I am,” I said after a brief moment’s hesitation. “Honestly, I don’t know what else to do.” The truth was, I understood what giving that forged will to Muratti would do—it would put the old man at risk. But right then, right there, I had to think about my dad. And hope that somehow, some way, everything would work out.
“Even if I could find someone to retain, why should I?”
“Because I’m here and because I’m asking,” I said. “And because I need your help.” I thought of the girls at Destiny that the knights had been helping for years. I thought of the art students that Cole taught in his nonexistent free time, and the professional artists like Tiki who he mentored.
He wouldn’t deny me—I was certain of that. And, yes, I was playing a game and using his good nature to roll the dice, but I had a feeling that in my position, Cole would do the same.
“All right,” he said. “Done.” He rose, then moved across the room to get another drink.
I watched him go, appreciating the view, but also feeling a bit shell-shocked. “That’s it? No negotiation? No back and forth?”
“Disappointed?”
I shook my head. “How long will it take to make up the forgery?”
He leaned against the bar and took a long sip of his whiskey. “I’m not going to make a forgery.”
“But you said—”
“I said that I’d help. I didn’t say how.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but shut it again almost immediately. I wanted a solution that didn’t require a forgery, after all. And considering the kinds of deals and schemes Cole manipulated and skirted every second of every day, I was confident that he could come up with a plan that both made sense and kept my father—and the property owner—alive.
“All right,” I said. “I trust you.”
