Page 26 of Wicked Lies

She needed to get away from Nick now before she spilled all her secrets. How could a man she’d just met find her weaknesses and make her want to reveal all her inner thoughts?

* * *

“You’re running from something.”His hand closed over hers. “I know the look.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” The best defense was a screwed-up offense, right?

“I know you didn’t belong at the Pit or with Jimmy. I know it wasn’t a coincidence you showed up here on the very same night or that you needed a job and a place to stay.” Nick pushed, and Cheryl’s complexion paled. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

He hated himself for doubting her, but as Samson said, there were too many loose ends. Too many things didn’t add up about her. He had to find out here and now if Frank planted her as another set of eyes.

“Nothing. I was in a bad situation with Jimmy, and I left. It was a long time coming.”

Using a beautiful woman wouldn’t be beneath Frank if it got him what he wanted. He’d basically done the same thing with Angela, but they’d both known the score and went into the game with their eyes open. Whatever this was with Cheryl was much different, and that’s what made it so dangerous.

“I can help you if you need it.” He pushed a stray hair away from her face. “If someone’s pressuring you or trying to work you over.” Nick’s words caught on a sigh, and when he leaned in, she didn’t resist. He wanted much more than just a kiss. He wanted to taste more of her, be part of her, sink into her sweetness, and make all her fears disappear.

A decent man would’ve paced himself, given her space, but Nick had never been decent when desire overwhelmed him. He nipped his way down her slender neck, loving the feel of her skin against his lips. Ever since he’d seen her at the Pit Nick knew what he wanted. When a soft moan escaped her lips, he guessed she was on the same page.

For one tantalizing second Cheryl’s eyes had dared him with desires as overpowering and primal as his. Shit, he was fucked. So fucked.

As if on cue, his cell phone buzzed, then buzzed again. He leaned away from her, fished the device out of his pocket, then scowled at the message. He typed back a quick response, then huffed out a breath. “I gotta go.”

“Of course.” She hopped off the couch like it was on fire, but their eyes lingered, and something passed between them. Mutual understanding with a huge dose of conflict— maybe wanting the same thing or neither knowing what they really wanted at all. Either way, confused and somewhat messy.

She broke eye contact and nodded to her still-full shot glass. “Thanks.” Then she bolted for the door.

“Thanks for patching me up,” he said to her back as she ran out the door.

He pushed the front of his pants to keep his dick from busting through the zipper, then he poured himself another shot because what the fuck else could go wrong tonight?

Something was definitely up with her. Crazy enough, he didn’t think she was working him. Honestly, what he saw in her eyes was fear not phony. In some ways that bothered Nick even more. A woman who hung out with Jimmy Falcone at the Pit didn’t scare easily, so what or who had the power to put that level of fright into her.

He downed the shot, and his phone buzzed again. Frank was one impatient bastard.

9

The next day, Nick gazed around the thirty-thousand-square-foot Midtown Manhattan space, which would become Club Wicked with pride. Although, right now, the smell of fresh paint and the shellac from the hardwood floors churned his stomach into knots.

Nick stifled a yawn and wished he’d drank more coffee earlier. After last night’s shit storm, he went back to his penthouse gulped more tequila to deaden the pain in his arm and obliterate any thoughts of Cheryl. The one woman who could blow his life to hell.

As she predicted, his wound got inflamed and infected. Sitting in emergency care and getting thirteen stitches with a raging hangover was not a great way to spend the day. His head and arm throbbed in unison, each competing to see which would make him hurl first. He popped another pain pill to dull the physical discomfort because nothing would dull the feel of Cheryl’s gentle touch and how she took care of his arm and actually seemed worried about him.

He sensed an underlying fear, but the dog in him couldn’t deny she was hot as fuck, yet it was more than just satisfying his dick. Something simmered between them, and if he hadn’t gotten that damn text from Frank last night, he would’ve had her pressed up against the nearest flat surface. Even getting slashed wouldn’t keep him from sinking in balls deep just like his fantasy. The thought of her plush lips pressed against his made Nick hard all over again.

“Looks like this is really happening.” Nick nudged Samson as the construction crew raised the ornate mirror over the main bar. “Looks good, right?”

“Yeah,” They slid onto the bar stools as Samson filled their glasses with an aged bourbon that would sell for eighty dollars a glass.

Getting this together meant breaking away from Frank and everything that kept him tethered to a world he and Samson no longer needed or wanted.

“Permits issued, inspections waived, thanks to our connections.” Nick cradled his head with one hand while he knocked a cig out of the pack on the bar with the other.

“Can’t believe you gotta go to that dinner. You look like shit.” Samson observed.

“You could always take my place.” Nick smirked at his joke.

Samson jerked his head at Nick’s tux. “Dressing up in a straight jacket is a hardfuckno.”

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