Marked by Passion (25 page)

Looking around him, I asked, "Where's your partner?"

He smiled faintly. "May's pork roast."

His business was so important that he came on his own? That couldn't be good. As if echoing my sentiments,
tu ch’i
stirred. Uncomfortable, I tried not to fidget. "Did you have more questions, Inspector?"

"I was hoping to talk to Ms. Redding first."

Vivian shoved me aside to stand in front of the inspector. "I'm Vivian."

I rolled my eyes at the way she drawled her name.

Ramirez saw—of course—and he cocked an eyebrow at me before turning to Vivian. "Miss Redding, I'm Rick Ramirez with the SFPD. I'm investigating the homicide that happened several blocks from here last night. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

She leaned across the counter in her signature move to flash him more of her cleavage. As if her tank top didn't bare enough of her enhanced features.

Shaking my head, I went to count out my register—not because I was eager to leave, which I was, but because it gave me the best vantage point to listen to their conversation. Maybe Ramirez would say something important— like that they found an ancient scroll under the body and it was in police custody.

He flipped open his notebook and got down to business. "Ms. Redding, what time did you leave work last night?"

She pouted thoughtfully. "It was after four."

I couldn't help raising my eyebrows. That was late. Usually whoever closed was out of here by two—our crowd usually moved on by one.

Ramirez picked up on it, too. "Isn't that a little late?"

She gave him what I knew she thought was a sex kitten smile, but it looked like a piranha to me. "I was
talking
with a friend."

"Eew." I grimaced. The last time she and a friend "talked," I found a used condom in the office.

Suddenly aware they weren't talking, I looked up to find them staring at me. I blinked and held up a dollar bill. "It's sticky."

Vivian rolled her eyes like I was an imbecile before turning back to Ramirez with her predator smile. She leaned more on her elbows—the better to show off her plastic boobs. "Go on."

Unfortunately, he asked pretty much the same questions he asked me. Which meant no word on the scroll. But then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the picture. "Do you recognize him?"

She gasped as she grabbed the mug shot. "This is the guy who came in looking for Gabe a couple nights ago."

Shit. I could feel Ramirez's gaze boring into me, but I kept my head down and pretended I was doing my own thing.

"He came back last night. But she was here and he acted like he never asked for her." She shrugged and handed the picture back. "I thought they'd look cute together, but then he walked out without talking to her. Weird, but Gabe likes weird, so it's a shame he's dead now."

"So Ms. Sansouci and this man never talked?"

"Not here." Vivian's eyes flashed.

I groaned. I knew that look. It was right before she eviscerated someone and left them twitching in her wake.

"But who knows what happened after she left work," she added slyly.

"Thank you, Ms. Redding. I'll be in touch if I have more questions." Ramirez slapped his notebook closed. "Ms. Sansouci, you got a minute?"

Did I have a choice? I shut the register and said to Vivian, "I'm out for the night."

She straightened indignantly. "But it's not time for you to leave—"

"It is now." I tossed my apron aside and went to get my coat from the office.

Ramirez waited for me right outside the bar. "Why didn't you mention he'd asked for you?"

I nodded at a couple regulars who said hi as they walked in. "I didn't think about it."

"You didn't think about it," he repeated slowly.

His tone sounded like Wu when he was angry—tight and controlled—and I didn't like it at all. "Like that's surprising considering you were questioning me about
a murder."

Deep in the earth, I felt an answering rumble echoing my anger. Faint and distant, but working its way to the surface.

Breathe.
I began walking briskly down the street, hoping the activity would work it off. "Besides, he barely looked at me when he was in. I thought Vivian was joking. In case you didn't notice, Vivian isn't the most credible source of information."

Though I walked fast, he didn't struggle to stay in step with me. "So are you saying Ms. Redding lied?"

"No." I huffed in exasperation. "I'm saying I didn't believe her. We aren't exactly bosom buddies. And the guy barely glanced in my direction last night. If he asked for me before, why wouldn't he have said something to me when I was there?"

"I don't know. Why wouldn't he?"

I shot him a withering look. "You don't believe me, do you?"

His mouth firmed into an astonishingly straight line. "I just found out you'd not only seen the victim but he'd asked for you before his murder, a fact you didn't choose to disclose earlier. What am I supposed to believe?"

I opened my mouth to tell him.

He cut in before I could get a word out, "Funny thing is I've had this gut feeling all along that you're hiding something. So now that I've found out you lied—"

"I never lied," I said adamantly.

"—I'm wondering whether you know more than you're letting on."

If only he knew. I kept my eyes forward and continued to march ahead.

"I'm giving you the opportunity to tell me everything you know about last night. Right now."

"I told you everything. If he was actually in the bar, I didn't wait on him. I left the bar at the end of my shift and walked home. End of story." At least that was the end of
that
story. I counted what happened after that as the beginning of a different one.

Ramirez studied me. I was amazed that he didn't walk into a pole or anything. Maybe they taught how to stare someone down while walking in detective school.

We continued in silence for several more beats. But then with casual certainty, he said, "Ms. Sansouci, I'll find out, you know."

"There's nothing to find out regarding your case," I replied in all honesty. His dark gaze was steady on me. I arched my eyebrows. "Do you have more questions? Because otherwise I'm heading home. It's been a long day."

He raked his hand through his hair. "Fine."

I nodded at him and turned to hurry home.

"But I'll be in touch," he called after me. "You can count on that, Ms. Sansouci."

A threat if I ever heard one. I waved over my shoulder and strode faster away from him.

I'd walked two blocks when Rhys pulled alongside me. This time, the passenger door just popped open.

Hands on my hips, I decided to take the path of least resistance and just get in. "Presumptuous of you," I said as I closed the door.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not offering you a ride."

That stopped me. "Then what are you offering?"

"This." He dragged me closer by my jacket and kissed life into me.

Or, rather, out of me.
Tu ch’i
leapt to meet him, and with every lick of his tongue, every nibble of his lips, I was less and less weighed down by the force of it within my body. When he finally broke the kiss, I felt light. Like anything was possible.

Rhys nuzzled my nose with his. "You can go now."

I blinked. "What?"

"You won't let me take you home, so we're at an impasse where the only solution is for you to get out of my car and for me to go home." He sat back in his seat and stroked a finger over his scar. "Isn't that right, love?"

He used my words against me. I didn't know whether to be pissed or admire his strategy. So I shrugged and slinked out, knowing he'd backed me into a corner. '"Night."

The window rolled down. "Gabrielle."

I looked in.

"The day will come when I have you. And I won't let you go." The window rolled back up, and he took off while I stood there gaping.

I didn't realize what he'd done until I got home. He'd drained
tu ch’i.
At least it felt that way—the incessant power was strangely peaceful. Had he done it specifically, to help me cope?

Yes, I suspected. Did I call him to thank him? I shook my head. I was afraid I'd invite him over if I talked to him, and that wasn't a good idea.

Instead I took advantage of the clarity. I slipped on a CAL sweatshirt I'd adopted from a long-gone
amour
and a pair of socks and went to my studio. I glanced at the last painting I did with the mysterious enshrouded figure and knew what I had to paint next.

Propping a new canvas on the easel, I picked up an old four-inch house brush, dipped it into a combination of azure and black, and attacked the canvas.

The change of night giving way to dawn brought me back to the present. I sat back and did what I never do: inspect the work I just did.

Looking out at me from the stark gloom of the canvas was a pair of blue eyes. Vivid. Omnipotent. Eyes that saw beyond my clothes, deep inside to where I hid secrets.

Rhys's eyes.

T
hose eyes haunted my dreams.

Not only his eyes but his mouth, his hands, his body. I woke up the next morning turned on beyond belief, writhing under my comforter with the feeling that he was there with me, caressing every inch of my skin.

I rolled onto my side and snuggled into the comforter. Every time I closed my eyes, Rhys's intense face filled the darkness in front of my eyelids.

Hyperconscious of the warm throbbing between my legs, I grazed a hand over my nipple and it tightened painfully.
God.
Biting my lip, I ran my hand down my abs until my fingers touched the elastic of my panties. I hesitated, torn between needing relief and not wanting to give in to him. Kind of illogical, but in my gut I felt like he'd intended to torture me this way.

No way would I let him have the upper hand. I fished my phone out of the clothes discarded on the floor, settled back into bed, and called him.

To my surprise, he picked up, but I beat him to the punch. "It won't work, you know."

"What won't work, love?"

"You won't have me unless I decide I want you to have me."

Silence. I could practically hear him thinking. When he replied, his voice swept over me like a caress. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Ha! You'd be thrilled if I bowed down and did whatever you wanted."

"No, I rather fancy you fighting back. It'll make your willing surrender all that much sweeter."

"I won't—"

"Oh, love, you will." His sexy whisper enflamed my already heated-up body. "One day you'll lay yourself open before me and beg me for what I can do to you."

Don't ask.
I bit my lip to keep from giving in to temptation.

Rhys chuckled. "I don't have to tell you, love. You're perfectly capable of imagining it, aren't you?"

My body burning from his kisses? My legs wide and welcoming? Begging him to finally kiss me
there?
Yeah, I could see it. Quite vividly.

I frowned. "You—you . . .
wanker."
I hung up.

That didn't go precisely how I envisioned. To add insult to injury, I was still horny.

Pressing a hand over my panties, I considered taking care of myself, but how embarrassing would it be getting caught by Wu?

Except Wu was gone, I remembered a second later. The thought should have made me relieved, but I just felt regret. And guilt.

Confused, overwhelmed, lonely, I rolled out of bed and headed to my studio and the picture of my mom for comfort. But as I stepped in front of the easel, I got distracted by my work.

Needing to see both paintings side by side, I set them next to each other and studied them, hoping plain daylight would reveal flaws. If they had flaws, I could chalk them up to an experiment, set them aside, and continue working on the series I already had going.

But no flaws. They were just as, if not more, startling, especially side by side. They told a story of forbidden desire, hot and potent and dark. And I liked them—more than the
Enter the Light
series. A lot more.

"Damn." I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Maybe the original series wasn't as dull as I remembered. I resolved to go to Madame's house and re-acquaint myself with it. To help get back into the groove.

So I got dressed and jogged the entire way to Madame's house. When I arrived, I was dripping sweat despite the frigid coastal wind but feeling marginally calmer than I was before.

"Thank God," I muttered as I rang Madame's bell. Usually levelheaded, I was letting this emotional upheaval get to me.

It was probably exacerbated by
tu ch’i.
I could feel the pulsing inside me, welling up more and more by the hour. That had to be the reason I felt torn about Wu when I should be happy he was out of my hair. Or why I felt so hot for Rhys. It wasn't really me.

My head throbbed, too.
Tu ch’i's
fault, as well. Although maybe I just wasn't used to thinking so much.

Madame's voice echoed through the security intercom.
"Oui?"

"Bonjour, Madame. C'est moi."

"Gabrielle?"

"Oui, bien sûr."

There was a slight pause and then the gate buzzed open. When I let myself into the house, I found Madame waiting for me in the foyer.
"Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?"

I air-kissed her cheeks so I wouldn't subject her to my sweat. "Why do you think something's happened? Can't I just visit you?"

"Yes, but lately you act unusual." She frowned at me. "Do you come to paint?"

"No, I came to see you."

She stared at me like she didn't believe me.

"Really."

"You should be here to paint."

Didn't I know it? Because I knew she wouldn't give it up, I threw her a bone. "I started another painting last night."

She narrowed her eyes. "You did?"

"God, you're suspicious. Yeah, I did. It's good." No need to tell her I wasn't planning on showing it to anyone.

Studying me for another long, silent moment, she nodded and shuffled down the hall.
"Viens."

I followed her to the kitchen, waving her to a seat. "I'll make coffee."