Page 32 of Wicked Lies

Probably not, especially since the first night he saw her at the Pit he dreamt of having her under him. Naked. Her taut nipples rubbing up against his bare chest, the feel of her nails scrapping down his back, and her pupils darkening when she came. Now he had the image of her bent over his desk with that heart shaped ass begging him to grab on and—

“Yeah, sure.” This woman turned him into a moron.

Surprise flickered across her face, but her shoulders remained tense, and then it all came together. She wasn’t doing this for her.

He stared at Cheryl until her eyes softened to the point of tears. Then she crumbled like she hated herself, and he wanted to fuck it all and grab her into his arms. Forget about the new club, forget about Frank fuckin’ up his night, and forget about Samson getting beat up. No questions asked he’d haul her to him and escape—just the two of them—gone.

11

Cheryl fought for control to school her features and not give away Frank’s plan, and not act like a freaking amateur on her first job. It should’ve been easy. In and out. What was he even doing here? She’d seen him leave in his drop-dead gorgeous tux, but he’d only been gone an hour. Who gets all dressed up for an hour?

“This had to do with me needing money,” she murmured the lie. “And falling back on what I am.”

Nick inched closer.

“A thief?” he whispered.

It was a logical question, but his voice held none of the accusation or indignation one would expect from someone being robbed.

The fact she hadn’t gotten what she came for was irrelevant. Cheryl had broken into his office and tampered with his safe. She probably should’ve mentioned the lock on his office door was shit easy to bust, but the state-of-the-art safe impressed her. Had Frank not given her the combination, there would’ve been no way she could’ve opened it. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t concerned about the door.

His eyes narrowed, and even from across the room, she ached for him. Her blood raced hot through her veins at the sight of Nick’s loosened tie hanging from the collar of his shirt. The first few buttons undone revealed the tattoo at the base of his neck. Her desire to be closer to him overpowered all logic and sense. It was sick and twisted just like the plan itself.

He closed the distance between them, and she sidestepped, bumping her hip on the corner of his desk. The momentary detour placed him directly in front of her. Again, the spicy scent of his cologne surrounded Cheryl, making her weak from the inside out. And for a split second, she wanted to fall into his arms and have him hold her again. Confess everything and just escape. The two of them, gone.

He stroked the underside of her jaw. “Someday, you’re going to tell me all your secrets.”

His expression threw her off balance. Not anger or rage, but . . . disappointment?

They’d hadn’t even had sex, yet she knew it would be hot, wild, and sheet gripping, but now that would never happen. She opened her mouth to say something, anything to make her seem less guilty, but the sting of hot tears and a choking in her throat cut off her words.

Nick lifted her chin and brushed her lips with a kiss softer than she deserved. “But right now I got bigger problems.”

He stepped away from her, and she immediately missed him in her space. Across the office, he opened up a closet, crouched down, and shifted some things on the floor. Tumblers fell into place and a metal latch released. When he stood a few minutes later, he clutched a stack of banded bills. Impressive.

Was it possible Frank didn’t know about that safe? She guessed someone so ruthless would know everyone’s secrets. And now she’d have to explain her failure to a man who definitely didn’t take no for an answer.

“Samson’s been beat up.” He held up the money. “This should take care of the doctor.” Then he shoved the money into his tuxedo pocket.

“I really am sorry.” She motioned toward the safe. “Do I still have a job?” She sent up a silent pray.

After a few excruciating seconds, Nick nodded. “On one condition.”

No, no—no more conditions or ultimatums. Why was her life always in the balance of the next deal?

“I don’t know what the fuck you were trying to do here.” Nick waved his hand around the office. “But after I check on Samson, you’re gonna come clean about what you’re hiding.” He turned and left the office, not waiting for a response.

Two seconds later, her cell phone vibrated. The caller ID showed the now familiar number. She gripped the phone to the point of pain. “Hello.”

“You were unsuccessful tonight, right?” Frank rasped through the phone.

She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see him standing behind her. “Right.”

“Nick caught you in the act?”

“Right, again.” Totally fucking creepy.

“Perfect.”

---