Page 5 of Beautiful Rush
He gave me a slow, easy grin. “I’ll take my chances.”
I gave him a black eye. It had been an accident, I swear. A wild hook. Someone had called his name and he’d turned his head to look just as my fist flew into his upper left cheekbone. This was after we’d established the rules that only body shots were allowed. I couldn’t be trusted to follow rules or keep my promises.
He hadn’t held it against me. After that, it seemed that everywhere I went, I ran into him. Maybe by design. Whether it was on his part or mine, I wasn’t sure. We flirted, and he’d been charming, and I’d been myself, but he wasn’t fazed. Nothing really fazed him. Not on the outside, anyway.
The last time I saw him was just before Christmas. We kissed. It wasn’tjusta kiss. It had felt like so much more or maybe I’d just imagined it. After that night, he ghosted, and I never saw him again. Until tonight.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. My gut feeling told me it was him, although I had no idea why I would think that. A quick look through the peephole confirmed that he was indeed standing on the other side of my apartment door. I debated for a few seconds, gnawing on my bottom lip as I watched him, the view distorted like the mirrors at a fun fair. But even a distorted view of Deacon couldn’t make him look bad. He grinned like he knew I was watching him, so I undid the locks and swung my door open. Deacon stepped inside and closed the door behind him, casting an eye around my apartment, maybe trying to figure out something about the person who lived here.
Much to Ava’s dismay, my apartment was minimalist. She loved secondhand stores, antique shops, and flea markets, and had scowled all the way through our Ikea shopping trip where I’d loaded up on essentials that she called ‘soulless.’ A black couch, glossy white coffee table, and a flat screen TV was the extent of my living room decor. The walls were white, the floors blond wood. I wanted an apartment with no memories. A fresh start for my new life. No knick-knacks or mementos. Except for the painting hanging above the sofa of my brothers when they were kids. Eden had painted it from an old photo Killian found in a shoebox. When I saw it hanging on the wall of the gallery in Bed-Stuy where Eden and Connor had their exhibit last December, I bought it. I’d missed their entire childhood. I’d missed so much. Two decades of not even knowing I had brothers. But now I had this little piece of their past and I cherished it.
“Isn’t it a little late for house calls, Detective?”
There was no point questioning how he knew where I lived. He was a detective. Gathering information was his job. But I wondered if he’d been keeping tabs on me. Part of me liked the idea that he had been. The other part of me hated that I would even care. Without answering my question, he followed me out to the balcony, and I resumed my spot in the chair, feet propped on the railing. All cool nonchalance like his presence didn’t affect me one bit. My racing pulse told a different story.
He leaned against the railing, ankles crossed, arms folded over his chest. I waited for the charming smile that I’d come to associate with him, but it didn’t come. He eyed the glass of clear liquid that could be water but wasn’t before his gaze settled on my face.
“The fuck were you doing, Keira?” There was an edge to his voice I’d never heard before.
Okay, not happy. “Are you still in character,Kosta?” I teased.
He scowled, giving the impression that he was. Like a method actor who lived the role he played so he didn’t break character. He did a good job of it. The first time I saw him, he was wearing a suit and wingtips. I’d immediately identified him as a cop, even without seeing his badge. It was the way he walked, with his arms held slightly out to his sides like he was used to packing heat, and the air of confidence when he strode in like he owned the place. I wasn’t entirely sure who this Kosta character was. But nobody would ever guess he was a cop.
“Were you tailing me? Again?” I asked.
“You were playing chicken with my SUV.”
Oh. Right. That must have been him in the Escalade. I cleared my throat but had no answer, so I kept my mouth shut. Sometimes silence was the best defense.
His eyes lingered on my bare legs, my boot-clad feet only inches from where he was standing then traveled up the length of me until his green eyes met mine. His face belonged in glossy magazines advertising expensive watches or cologne. Tall, well over six feet with cut arms, sun-kissed skin and that perfect V-shaped torso that guys get from working out a lot, he was the total package. The longer hair and scruff on his jaw and the badass vibes he was giving off made him even hotter. So, to have him standing right across from me, in close quarters, was almost too much to handle.
He roughed a hand over his face and groaned, a low guttural sound that sent a jolt to my core and had me clenching my thighs. Man, I was easy. All he had to do was groan and I was wet. “What were you trying to do, Keira?”
“Wasn’t it obvious? I was trying to win. I love street racing and I’m good at it.” I shouldn’t have tacked on that last sentence. That was my pride speaking. Everyone knew it went before the fall. I had only to look at my father to know that was true. He’d gotten too flashy. Too arrogant. He had started to believe he was invincible.
“You’re not as good as you think.”
My mouth dropped open. How could he say that? “I won.” I refrained from telling him that I’d been street racing since January and had won all but two of my races.
“You got lucky. This time. Street racing is dangerous.”
“You sound like a cop.”
“Iama cop.”
He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, not only me. “Nice touch with the gangbanger car.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Go big or go home.”
“My thoughts exactly. What are you involved in? Drugs? Gangs?”
Deacon shook his head and remained silent. I knew he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell me. Story of my life. By now, I should be good at filling in the blanks.
“Stay away from those street races. It could have gotten ugly tonight.”
“I had it all under control. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”
His mouth quirked with amusement. “Have you punched anyone in the face lately?”
