Page 56 of To Catch A Rook

Okay—I could maybe get on board with that plan.

He kept his grip on my chin and skimmed the other hand up my thigh to possessively cup my hip.

“They do,” I said, slightly dipping my head to brush his thumb over the soft flesh of my lip. I parted them slowly, letting the thick digit slip into my mouth and cradling it with my tongue before I sucked hard on the salty skin.

I popped it out with an exaggerated flourish, but the effect was instant. “And I’m the one who spanks them.”

A creeping rosy flush colored the pale skin of Lucky’s neck, and the blown pupils and granite-hard rod between us told me all I needed to know.

For one fraction of a moment, I let the dark heat of his stare spread warmth through my insides and pull me out of our little gauntlet. For one blissful second, we were just two people in a field about to share the whimsical adventure of childhood dreams.

But I didn’t do adventures. I punished pedophiles; maimed and tortured the demons walking as humans. I built cities and organized kingdoms. I wasn’t an innocent standing in tall grass at sunset about to share a sweet date with her lover. And neither was Lucky.

Wewere playing a dangerous game. Each move needed a jarring reminder this dance floor we dallied on was merely a dirty carpet.

I slipped out of his hold before the lust could dissolve my façade of a fact-finding mission into a rudimentary rut.

Pulling his body along with mine, I upped my pace until we stood within the balloon’s eight-story shadow. Its rippling kaleidoscope of patterns and colors loomed over us like a joyful mirage.

“We need to leave in three, Ms. Lane!” The young pilot with braided blond hair shouted over the roar of the burner as the balloon was inflating. “We don’t want to miss the sunset off Pillar’s Peak.”

Instead of straining my voice, I nodded my understanding. Lauchlan nestled behind me and we watched the pilot conduct a few more safety checks. His hold to his body probably looked casual, but the weight of his forearms across my chest felt intentional.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he whisper-yelled into my ear above the din of the pitchy exhaust. “I’m geeking out, Blondie!”

Agreed. A hot-air balloon was the simplest of science, but it held an allure far more magical than the invention of a modern airplane. I couldn’t keep the girlish grin off my face as we stepped onto the platform and lifted off into the sky.

Aside from the aggressive whoosh of the propane flames burning up into the balloon, the ride was exceptionally quiet. Our pilot was silent as she conducted several safety checks and then gave us room to relax—as much room as you could give someone in a 12-by-12 suspended square.

Side by side, we leaned against the perimeter railing as the balloon hovered over the farmland gradually growing distant. Neither of us moved to speak. The feeling of complete weightlessness, like we were birds gliding through the mountain pass, was one of the most peaceful moments I could ever remember.

The chaos in my vengeful veins idled as I drank in every drop of tranquility, forgetting my original intentions for this set-up.

Eventually, Lauchlan broke the silence with a handful of softly uttered words.

“Da would have loved this.” His tone was mournful; melancholy. If Lauchlan was using this story as his ‘in’ for pity points, he was an Oscar-winning actor.

“Oh?” Thanks to Blackbird’s sleuthing, I knew his father had died because of a heart attack. I let the question hang in the air—quite literally, wanting him to share the story instead. Needing him to spill his secrets.

“He died. Last year.”

The simple explanation made me turn to catch his expression. The sun was just kissing the edge of the horizon behind him. I wasn’t prepared for the glossy sheen in his eyes. Was that … tears? Or just high altitude?

Despite needing distance, I felt compelled to offer comfort. I placed my hand over the icy ridges of his knuckles still gripping the railing, and gently squeezed in reassurance.

“I’m sorry.”

“S’alright.” Lauchlan’s sad smile was laced with something bitter, but I couldn’t place it. “He was a good man. Never thought I’d lose him without warning, you know? Still bites.”

The child-like mischief Lucky wore as a shield was temporarily down, exposing the points of raw edges beneath. Whatever sport he was playing with me, these emotions were real.

Is this how he played people? Showing vulnerability to get vulnerability? As much as I wanted there to be maliciousness behind his admission, my heart couldn’t hide its subtle pang. I knew how the loss of a parent felt to my core.

“My mother died in childbirth.” This was a topic I didn’t speak about, not even to Winter, but if it would get Lauchlan to open up, bring me closer to figuring him out, and fulfill my retribution, I could let him in on a secret of my own. “I never knew her, and Daddy never spoke about her. I think she would have liked this too.”

The admission formed a tight ball of choking emotion at the base of my throat. I swallowed so hard to force it down my mouth was drier than if I had eaten sand.

I’d done my research, of course. Helen Lane had been a stunning ball of energy, a socialite involved in every cause known to man, and loved by all. How she’d ended up with my father was the ultimate puzzle, but somehow, according to every news piece and commentary about her, the opportunistic, egotistical jackal managed to snag himself a good one.

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