12. Jezebel

CHAPTER 12

JEZEBEL

“ I didn’t think you’d come,” Cole said.

“Being honest, neither did I.” But here we were. “I hope you got plenty of sleep last night.”

“Barely any, but I’ll cope.”

He stepped backward and motioned me inside, and I glanced at the wall Valeria’s crew had repaired. They’d matched the paint perfectly, thank fuck, and she’d grudgingly apologised over encrypted text for the cat-poisoning incident. Lesson learned, I hoped.

Cole closed the door, and I stood awkwardly, overnight bag in hand. Hookups I could do. Small talk with a man I barely knew and had nothing in common with? Harder.

I hadn’t spent a full night with a man since Bastian’s death. And Bastian at least had known who I was. What I was. When we began dating, I’d thought his line of work was an advantage, but it had turned out to be anything but.

Bastian had been older than me, and a colleague in that we were both working for the DIA, but in different departments. He’d been an analyst; I’d had a more hands-on role. In hindsight, I should have spotted the red flags. Should have realised that a man like him didn’t appreciate being upstaged by a younger girlfriend. Should have understood that he wouldn’t have dated a woman like me without an ulterior motive.

He’d bugged my fucking engagement ring.

I thought we were getting along and building a relationship, and the whole time, he’d only wanted me for my classified information.

“Uh, I was just making dinner. Have you eaten?”

“It’s eleven p.m. Didn’t you eat at work?”

“I ate a package of Peanut Butter Cups at six, then dealt with crisis after crisis until I lost the will to live.”

“Running a casino still sucks?”

“It’s the worst.” He hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me tight against him. “Take my mind off it?”

I stood on tiptoes to kiss him. Or rather on tiptoe, since I could only bend one foot at the moment. He was a nice height, taller than my five-seven but not too tall. He also got bonus points for knowing how to kiss. No gloopy saliva, no weird noises. A year ago, I’d picked up an investment banker—or an investment wanker, as Spider preferred to call them—and he’d slobbered. Fucking slobbered, as if his father were a St. Bernard. I ended up escaping through the bathroom window of his third-floor hotel room, after I’d washed my face, of course.

A shiver ran through me when Cole gripped the back of my neck. Yes, fine, I was mostly a control freak, but I could live with a man who took charge in the bedroom. Shibari was out, but a little light spanking got my blood flowing. That had been another red flag with Bastian. He hadn’t been particularly adventurous. At the time, I’d convinced myself that vanilla was fine, that sacrificing fun for stability in my first real relationship was the right thing to do. Now, I wished I’d cuffed him to the bed and hammered a butt plug the size and shape of the Empire State Building up his traitorous ass.

A grumble from Cole’s stomach stopped things before my lips chapped.

“Go and eat,” I told him.

“I can make extra?”

I’d eaten dinner three hours ago, but a snack wouldn’t hurt, not with the number of calories I planned to burn off tonight. Plus I was curious to see whether Cole could actually cook. Bastian had been more of a takeout man.

“Just a small portion.”

He led me to the kitchen. Other than Tulsa’s cabin near Wichita Falls, Oklahoma, I’d never seen a house with quite so much wood. Sometime in the last century, a small forest had given its life for Uncle Mike’s kitchen, and apart from looking dated, it was still going strong. The floor, the panelled walls, the cabinets, the sturdy table and chairs, all wood, a deep reddish-brown that I thought might be cherry. Cherry or hickory.

The countertops were the exception—those were granite—and I ran a hand over the cool surface. The year before last, an insufferable bitch of an oligarch’s mistress asked me what my favourite stone was, and I’d said granite just to annoy her. But granite was more practical than sapphires. I’d yet to find a pretty jewel I could crack a man’s skull against, but granite did the job nicely.

Cole poured two glasses of wine, then pulled a face at the chopping board on the central island.

“Guess I’d better leave out the garlic,” he said. “Do you like olives?”

“Sure.”

Apart from Marcel—whom we’d employed mainly for his culinary skills—the last man to cook me a meal had been Nolan de Luca. In Blackstone House, he’d often made food for the rest of us as well as himself, although I suspected his generosity had partly been an excuse to cook for Echo. He’d cared for her, but in a brotherly way, not reciprocation of her crush. When she first moved in, she used to live on junk—crackers, potato chips, chocolate—thanks to a lack of cooking facilities. It was only later that she’d discovered a taste for sushi, wagyu beef, and French macarons. Part of the reason she travelled now was to explore all the cuisines the world had to offer.

Cole was no gourmet chef, but he knew how to make pesto-and-olive-crusted cod, and the roasted carrots, cherry tomatoes, and bell peppers that accompanied it were cooked to perfection. We ate side by side on stools at one end of the island.

“How’s your leg?” he asked. “Still sore?”

“Pretty much the same as it was at lunchtime.”

“Right. Sorry.”

If Dusk were standing next to me, she’d say, “Don’t be a bitch, Jez.” I made an effort to lighten up because as far as I knew, Cole hadn’t done anything wrong.

“As long as I don’t put weight on it, it doesn’t hurt too much. The doc said the cast needs to stay on for at least another month.”

“At least you have a desk job.”

“Right, waiting tables would be awkward right now.”

“A waitress at the Galaxy broke her ankle two weeks ago, and she still showed up to work. Said she couldn’t pay the rent otherwise.”

“Did you let her hop?”

“No, I switched her onto a stool at the host stand.”

Of course he did, because Cole was a nice guy. Maybe too nice—he needed to make hard decisions if the Galaxy was in as bad a shape as he described, and I wasn’t sure he was capable .

“How is work? Did the guy who was asking for money come back?”

“Which guy?”

Fuck, there was more than one?

“Jimmy?”

Cole shook his head as he speared a piece of fish with his fork. “Haven’t seen him.”

“But more people are showing up?”

“Most of them are calling. Only a couple came in person—one offered to resend the paperwork, and the other had a bunch of text messages from Uncle Mike promising three hundred bucks for repairing an AC unit.”

“Were the messages genuine?”

“I think so.”

“If you want, I have a techie friend who could take a look.”

Plus she could check out the other data on Cole’s phone too, just in case there was anything relevant to the assholes in the morgue.

“Thanks, but I paid the guy out of my own pocket to make the problem go away.”

It took effort, but I resisted the urge to face-palm.

“Don’t let people rip you off. Aren’t you on a limited budget?”

He crinkled his nose, sheepish. “I had ten other people talking at me, and it was either pay the three hundred bucks or put my fist through the wall.”

“I guess an X-ray would cost more than three hundred bucks. Been there, done that, do not recommend.”

“I just need to hold out for twelve more days, and then I get a break.”

Oh? “What kind of break?”

“I’m heading home. A scientist has chartered my boat for a marine survey, and he always pays well.”

“Will the Galaxy survive without you? ”

“I hope so. For my sanity and my bank account, I had to say yes to the job. Plus I had to buy a new phone the other day, so now my credit card hates me too.”

There was that guilt again. At least in San Gallicano, Cole would be well out of Jimmy’s reach if he was indeed the target. We’d have a clear run at finding the guy without having to worry about Cole’s safety at the same time.

“How long will you be away for?”

“The booking is for three weeks, plus I’ll have to prep the boat beforehand and pack everything away afterward. If the trip goes smoothly, I’ll be back in a month.”

Good. That was good. Ari would have time for initial scouting, and if necessary, we’d be able to tear Vegas apart while Cole was gone. Maybe I’d throw Jimmy down some stairs as a thank you for the cast. Or I could toss him off a building; that would also work.

“The break will do you good. Like a reset.”

His grimace said he wasn’t convinced. “The Galaxy nearly went under in the weeks between Uncle Mike’s passing and the lawyers tracking me down.” Cole pushed away his plate and gave a heavy sigh. “But I can’t carry on the way things are. When I’m there, the staff come to me with questions about every single little thing.”

“A lot of buck-passing going on?”

“From some of them. With others, it’s more a lack of confidence in their own abilities.”

“So it’s sink-or-swim time?”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Another sigh. “I’ve been worried that if I go home, I’ll never come back, but at least now I have a reason to get on the plane.”

Okay, that wasn’t such great news. I didn’t want Cole getting attached. I mean, the orgasms were great, but no way was I looking for a relationship or even an extended fling .

“If you’re done with the food, how about we get some sleep?”

“Sleep?”

“I was trying to be polite. How about we go upstairs and fuck?”

He smiled for the first time since we started eating. “Sounds like a plan.”