Entice

Chapter Eight

Chase

I’d just redefined the meaning of coming on too strong. Hell, that woman made me want to react. Every single word that came out of her mouth caused a gut instinct reaction. I hadn’t planned on kissing her; it had just happened. I wasn’t aware that I no longer controlled my body or my thoughts where she was concerned. But I wasn’t going to apologize. It had been a damn good kiss. She’d tasted warm, like a hot dessert that just came out of the oven. And I was a sucker for chocolate cake.

That mouth of hers was perfection. Clearly my mind had done me a favor by allowing me to forget just how soft her lips were. A man should never forget the way a woman tastes — and somehow I’d done it.

Never again.

I had planned on our kiss to feel frigid, cold, lifeless. Instead my body had responded with such heat that the entire drive to the hotel I’d gripped the steering wheel hard enough to pry it from the dash.

Thank God, she’d been kissed into silence, especially if that was how I reacted when she challenged me.

The only reason I even upgraded the room was to give us more space — being too close to her made me feel like a caged animal just waiting for the zookeeper to unlock the cage. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration and dropped our bags onto the ground.

“I, uh, I’m going to go get some ice.” Small talk of epic proportions.

“Fine.” Mil shrugged and grabbed the TV remote.

My eyes narrowed as she lay down on the bed, her entire demeanor screamed calm; whereas, I was contemplating how many ways I could dump ice in my pants without looking like I’d just had an accident.

“Whatever,” I grumbled under my breath, grabbing the bucket and making my way down the hall. Call me paranoid, but even though we were staying at the Waldorf Astoria, I wasn’t taking any chances. I kept my gun tucked into my pants and muttered curses under my breath the entire length of the hall toward the ice machine. I needed time to cool off, time to think, time to form a game plan.

Did we have to have sex? And what guy actually asked that on his wedding night? But that mouth, her mouth, I groaned as my mind tortured me with the memories of what she’d tasted like, what her mouth had felt like pressed against mine. How was it possible to be so intrigued by someone else when I knew that no one would ever captivate me the way Trace had? My body clearly didn’t have trouble with it. That much I was painfully aware of.

Shit.

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. I needed a solid minute or several of them before going back into that room. The last thing Mil needed was for me to go back in there so damn turned on I had trouble walking. May as well wave a flag or something. It was beyond obvious, not to mention irritating.

By the time I reached the ice machine, I wanted to shoot so many holes through it that I was already regretting the fact that I’d brought my gun. Pretty sure destroying hotel property would land me in jail.

Groaning, I leaned my forehead against the machine and took a few deep breaths.

Just as I was about to press the button, the hair on the back of my neck stood on edge. It was quiet, too quiet. The elevator dinged, and then I heard some shuffling, footsteps. The normal hotel guest would be talking, or at least purposefully walking. Quietly, I ducked into the corner and looked down the hall. Two men in suits were quietly walking and talking. Nothing out of the ordinary. But that’s the problem. It’s never the creepers I worry about. But normal people? Men in suits? People who looked like they belong — those are the real threats. They’re the moms and dads taking their kids to school in the sick SUV. The clean cut ones were a pain in my ass. I watched, I waited. They stopped in front of my room.

Shit.

The tall one on the right seemed to be in charge. He motioned for the other to step aside as he pulled out his gun and moved to the front of the door. Wow, a silencer. How predictable. The taller one knocked on the door and said in a low baritone, “Security.”

I rolled my eyes. Security, my ass.

They weren’t my men. They sure as hell weren’t familiar. I reached for my Glock and held it behind me, making my way casually down the hall. As I approached, they both looked up and offered easy smiles, which meant one thing.

They weren’t there for me. They didn’t even know who I was.

They were there for Mil.

I gave them a cocky grin, counting the seconds until I could punch in their shit-eating faces. On the plus side, I could take out all my pent-up frustration on them, poor bastards.

The door handle twisted, gaining their attention. With a swift thrust of my gun, I knocked the first one out and then used my elbow to get the other guy in the face. He shook it off as if I’d barely touched him.

Of course, tonight of all nights, when all I really wanted was peace and quiet and possibly to let out some sexual frustration — I’d be stuck with someone who, by the feel and looks of it, clearly had had his fair share of training in the ring.

With a grunt he pushed me against the hallway wall, ramming his fist into the side of my face. After three hits, I was able to finally duck on the fourth, so his hand hit the wall. And just like that, I knew the boxer’s choreography. His dance, if you will. Right hook, uppercut, right hook, left. I landed a double jab to his stomach and then kneed him a few times before he toppled over, compliments of Muay Thai, bitch. With a grunt, his hand clamped around my wrist, knocking my gun to the floor. I kicked him again then slammed down my arms on his grasp around my waist, momentarily giving me enough time to scramble to my pant leg so I could grab my knife.

We danced around one another. He smirked, throwing his gun and pulling out his own knife. So it was going to be like that, cocky piece of work. He lunged first. I let the blade get within inches of my face before moving to the right and using his momentum to throw him over my shoulder and onto the carpet. I got on top of him and punched him repeatedly in the face until blood covered his smirk. A tooth went flying as he spat blood from his mouth.

“You’re going to have to kill me.” He spit out some more blood as he knocked his head against mine.

Groaning, I fell to the side as we switched positions. But I still had my knife. When he came down a second time, I held up the blade so it went into his palm. He howled in pain and fell back, giving me enough time to grab the knife he’d dropped and thrust it into his chest as the weight of his body fell back on top of me.

I had a love and hate relationship with knives.

I loved the control they gave me.

But I hated that, as gravity caused his body to slide to the handle of the knife, I could see the life leave his eyes, his soul finally finding rest. With a grunt, I pushed him off of me just in time to see the other guy wake up and scramble for the extra gun.

I moved as fast as I could and jumped on top of him, but his gun wasn’t trained on me. It was trained on himself.

I held up my hands. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Chase Abandonato, and you are?” I asked in a calm voice slowly leaning away from him. His hand shook as he held the gun to his chin. Why wasn’t he putting up a fight? I looked down, and that’s when I saw, somehow in the fight his leg had twisted. No way could he win against me. Even with a gun, he would most likely die trying.

Blood poured from the guy’s face as he looked up at me and answered, “A dead man.”

One gun shot.

His body slumped to the floor in a bloody heap as blood splattered all over the wall behind him. It was a complete mess. Blood began to pool at my feet.

“Son of a bitch.” I wiped my hands on my pants and gazed back at the door, hoping Mil hadn’t witnessed the entire thing.

Her face was pale, her lower lip trembled as she leaned against the door. Shit, she needed to sit down before she passed out.

“I’m fine.” She waved me off once I reached her. “I’m fine. I mean…” She swallowed. “I’m good.”

“Stop saying you’re fine and good before I take you to the damn hospital.” I held out my hand. “Cell phone. Now.”

Eyes still trained on the dead bodies in the hall, she handed me the phone from the nearby desk and crossed her arms, huddling into her own body.

I dialed Nixon; he answered on the first ring. “Well, that was fast.”

“Not the time, Nixon,” I said in a low voice. “Look, we’ve got a situation.”

“Alright.” His voice took on a business tone. “How many?”

“Two dead.”

“By you?”

“One by me, the other… self inflicted.”

“Identification?” I could hear the car roaring to life as Nixon yelled orders to men in the background.

“Never seen them before. Let me ask Mil.” I lowered the phone. “Mil.” I didn’t have time to be gentle with her, to coax her out of shock. I needed answers and I needed them fast. “You know them?” I pointed down at the bodies. “I need to know if you can ID them.”

Her eyes watered with tears. She nodded her head and looked away. “My cousins.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Those are my cousins. I saw them a few years ago during Christmas break.”

“Shit,” I mumbled into the phone. Adrenaline was starting to leave my body. Every position I stood in caused a growing ache to radiate down my spine. “Nixon, it was the De Langes.”

“Of course,” he said in clipped tones. “They have such a nasty habit of trying to kill off their own blood — no respect, no—”

“Not the time, Nixon. Just get your ass down here. Now.”

“I’ll call Sergio.” The phone went dead.

We only called in Sergio when things went above our heads. Shit, above our heads? I looked down the hall. Cameras. Not good. Hell yeah, we needed Sergio, because if this security footage got out, we were going to be front-page news, and I’d be spending my honeymoon in prison.

Thankfully we were in one of the penthouse suites. Only four rooms were on our level and none of the doors budged. I kept the door open so I could monitor the hall for any movement, praying the rooms were empty. If they weren’t… there would be more bodies, and they would be innocent.