Page 7 of Broken Rules
Once more, she shifted her head to face him. In the dim light, she could barely see the glint of his eyes. Still, his gaze was unwavering.
“What were you going to steal?” she asked to keep him talking, giving her time to think.
“I wasn’t going to steal anything. It’s my client who’s interested in your boss’s property.”
“Your client? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m a thief-for-hire.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He tipped the wine bottle upside down. “We need more wine,” he said casually as if they were old friends.
Now was her chance.
She pushed the blanket off her legs and jumped to her feet. “Getting booze is my job. Leave it to the bartender,” she said in a rush and scrambled over the bed toward the door, but then she turned, lunged for his gun on the bureau, and whirled around, aiming the barrel at the intruder.
He didn’t flinch.
“You’re a vision,” he said softly.
She glanced down at her thighs barely covered by Joe’s t-shirt. “Stay back,” she snapped as he stood and began walking toward her. “I mean it!”
He closed the distance between them in two strides and seized the gun right out of her hand. “Before you do something we’ll both regret,” he said, his voice gentle, sliding the gun in the holster at his waist.
She hid her face behind her hands, her whole body shaking. She had known she could never pull the trigger the moment the cool metal filled her hand. His arm came around her. She screamed as he lifted her. “Put me down,” she cried, lashing out, but he pinned her arms to her sides, his masked face a breath from hers. “Shhh,” he crooned softly while he crossed to the chair, cradling her like a child. “You really don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. You have my word.”
His gentle rocking, the martinis and wine, her fear and confusion, the warmth of his body, the touchless caress of his soothing voice, and her fatigue from the day all combined, in that moment, into one hazy, indistinguishable emotion, lulling her to rest her head on his chest—for a breath, a moment. Then she jerked upright, adrenaline winning out over the alcohol and met his gaze. His eyes glinted in the dark. “Can you just go away!”
He released a slow breath, the warmth of which penetrated his mask and touched her skin. “You’re still scared,” he said, slowly reaching out his hand. She flinched as he grazed the back of his gloved fingers down her cheek. “I wish you wouldn’t be.” His voice was tender. He stood up, holding her close. “I understand—the whole mask and gun thing. I get it, but don’t worry, I’m not offended.” His soft chuckle revealed the smile, his mask would not let her see.
He stood with her still in his arms, crossed to the bed, his gaze holding hers captive, and laid her down. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he said, leaning down to grab the duvet off the floor. He spread it over her bare legs, then pulled it up to her shoulders. “I’m going to tuck you in, but I’ll resist giving you a kiss goodnight.” He cupped her cheek. The leather from his glove felt cool. She stayed frozen in place, her gaze transfixed by his. After several moments, he stood. “And now I’m going to leave; that is unless you’ve had a change of heart and you want me to stay. We could be like Bonnie and Clyde. Two thieves in the night.”
She scowled. “I’m not a thief.”
“Of course you’re not.” His tone was soothing as if she needed reassurance of her innocence. Then he reminded her that she wasn’t as innocent as she believed in that moment. “Remember to clean up after yourself.”
In her mind’s eye, she saw Joe’s disheveled shoe rack and knew she would have to set things right.
He backed up toward the balcony, his gaze locked with hers. “You don’t want the boss to know you broke into his house.”
The next instant, he pulled aside the curtain. “Farewell,” he said as if he was the hero of a story rather than the villain. Then he stepped out onto the balcony, disappearing into the night.
