“Why?” He looks at her. “Is he paying you to be his whore?”
Bleu spins around and the peacekeeper becomes the assailant. “Me and you. Gloves off.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not fighting you,” Leith says, laughing.
“You don’t mind insulting a woman but you’re too much of a gentleman to hit one?” I recognize the stance Bleu takes and laugh inwardly. Leith is in deep shit. He has no idea he needs to take the defensive against Bleu, but he’ll get no warning from me.
“Come on. You just saw what I’m capable of doing.”
“I wasn’t impressed.” Bleu delivers a short-straight punch to Leith’s chin, a hit he clearly wasn’t expecting based on his reaction. “You want to know why I chose Muay Thai over the other forms of martial arts and kickboxing?”
Leith rubs his chin. “Damn, Bleu.”
“Knee and elbow strikes are permitted.” Bleu darts to Leith’s side and spins before delivering a well-placed elbow strike to his ribs, sending him to his knees. “Just so you know … he isn’t paying me to be his whore. He’s claimed me.”
Chapter Eleven
Bleu MacAllister
One night together and he asks me to move in? I suppose my virginity was a bigger asset than I anticipated. Who knew it would be so easy? But I won’t mistake confidence for trust. Sinclair Breckenridge shared his secret because he would have no qualms about killing me if I even thought of talking.
I feel bad about what I did to Leith. But in my defense, he called me a whore. He shouldn’t have done that. I’m certain it’s a mistake he won’t be making again. All ended well between us, though. He apologized, and I accepted. Water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned.
Sin looks at me frequently during the drive to his house. Sometimes it’s my face but mostly my body. He has a hungry look in his eyes. It’s the same one I’ve seen each time my tenacious side has made an appearance. A strong woman turns him on. That means I know what we’ll be doing when we get back.
We barely make it through the front door before he pulls me into his arms. His mouth crashes into mine and it isn’t gentle. He’s made love to the virgin and now he wants to fuck the fighter.
I move my mouth down his neck and taste the salt. “God, you’re sweaty.”
“I was last night as well but I don’t recall you minding.”
He’s shirtless, his saturated with red, and he has small traces of blood still around his nose and upper lip. “And you’re bloody.”
“So were you last night but I don’t recall me holding it against you.” He snickers.
“That was crude … and true.”
He urges me to the sofa, forcing me to fall on it when he pushes me backward. “Who are you and where did you come from?” He’s wearing a seductive grin so I know I’m safe. “I have a hard time believing a typical small-town girl from Tennessee would be a grand master in Muay Thai.”
Rule number one: lies are like boomerangs. You better throw them out as hard and far as you can because they always eventually come back. “My uncle is an instructor.”
He lowers himself to the sofa so he’s lying on top of me. His mouth immediately goes for my neck. “He taught you well. You delivered that elbow strike with extraordinary precision. I was very proud.” He’s hard. I feel it pressed against my stomach.
“And very turned on.”
“You can tell, aye?” He hovers above me and moves his mouth down my cheek. He puts his hand between my legs and rubs my crotch through my yoga pants.
I want to do it again but I haven’t emotionally dealt with the actuality of what I’ve done with Sinclair. I loved every touch and sensation my body experienced last night—and then again early this morning after my nightmare.
When I awoke to him comforting me, I’d been dreaming of that night. He held me and stroked my hair, whispering in my ear, “I have you, Bonny. You’re safe. It was just a bad dream.”
He makes me feel feminine and desired. No other man has ever done that so I couldn’t help myself. I had to have him again, so I was the one to initiate sex. And it was magnificent.
This is messed up. Sinclair isn’t just any petty criminal; he’s a killer. And a monster. He didn’t kill my mother but he’s the spawn of the man who did. I’m supposed to be sickened by his touch, so why am I desperate to have more of it?
Something must be terribly wrong with me.
We hear the sound of a shutting car door and look at one another. “Seems you have a visitor.” We rise to a sitting position as a knock sounds on the door.
“Aye, and whoever it is decided to come at a very inconvenient time,” he groans. He goes to the window and draws the drape for a look. “This can’t be good.”
“Who is it?”
“My father.”
Holy shit. I’m about to come face to face with Thane Breckenridge. “I can’t be introduced to your dad looking like this.” I won’t meet him wearing yoga pants and a ponytail. I grab my bag from the floor and run toward the stairs. “I just need ten minutes.”
He calls out my name but I don’t acknowledge it. I’m afraid he’ll tell me I can’t meet Thane. “Okay. Make that fifteen.”
I burst into Sin’s bedroom and look at what I have in my bag. Not much. I could put on the dress I brought for tonight. That would catch his attention but it’s not what I’m looking to do. I need Thane to look at me and see my mother. I want him to be reminded of what he did to Amanda Lawrence.
It won’t be difficult to jog his memory. I have my mother’s … everything. Thick chestnut hair, identical shade of steel-blue eyes. I got nothing from my biological father. I’m sure everyone would comment on how similar we look if she were still living. But she isn’t. Thane made her an angel in the ground.
I completely expect him to be confused when he looks at me and sees my mother’s face. He’ll try to work it out in his head—how a young woman can look so much like a person he killed. Even if he suspected I was her daughter, Stella Lawrence is dead according to the forged death certificate.
The world wasn’t so technologically advanced eighteen years ago. It was pretty easy to have me declared dead on paper since Harry knew all the right people to make it happen. He took extreme measures for my protection, going as far as having a headstone placed next to my mother’s, so her killer would never return for me.