Kissed by Moonlight

Chapter Six





“Why would someone want you dead, Miss Conners?”

I groaned against the surface of the interrogation table and tried not to start cursing. They’d asked the same question more than a dozen times now, but my answer had yet to change.

“I don’t know? My charm? Good looks? Winning personality? The possibilities are endless.”

The Agent sitting on the other side of the table put his hands up in a show of surrender.

“No need for snark, love. I’m just trying to get the full picture. This was a professional job. They had the money and the training-”

“But not the aim,” I interrupted lightly.

The Agent grinned and his fingers intertwined as he leaned towards me.

“Maybe he had the aim,” he said, voice as low as if we were co-conspirators. “Maybe he had the shot, but never took it. Maybe, the only reason you’re still alive is because they have a reason to keep you that way.”

I leaned across the table as well, my own voice lowering to match his. “Then I guess the question you should be asking is why would someone want me alive but scared?”

“That,” he sat back, “is an excellent point.” Picking up his pen, he began to twirl it between his fingers. For the first time since the two agents had brought me in, the questions took a significant change.

“How do you like working for Gabriel Evans, Miss Conners?”

I stiffened, but answered easily enough. “Don’t know yet, it’s only my first day.”

“Only your first day and yet you’ve already met the CEO and President of A.I.” His brow quirked. “That’s pretty impressive for a newbie.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I bit my bottom lip and shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“I think it’s a little bit more than that.”

I glared at the agent, displeased with where all of this was going. I’d come to the police station because I hadn’t known what else to do. I’d expected to have to make a statement to a police officer, and that had indeed been the case. I hadn’t expected to be detained by the same men who’d given me a ride in the first place.

It was nice getting to know the agents who had been watching me since the car bomb, but I would have appreciated a full night’s sleep much more. Especially since I had work in the morning.

The man in question had been the first agent. He was as tall as his partner was short, and he was blessed with ink-black hair that seemed to fall in perfect waves. It matched his Arabian good looks. There was something about him that seemed out of character with the severely starched lines of his suit and easy manner.

His partner was a lot older. A sour-faced man with gray hair and glasses that seemed too large for his thinly jawed face. He was just as carefully dressed, but he seemed stiff and uncomfortable in his clothes. As if he would rather been in jeans and an old t-shirt than a tie and pressed slacks. I would have felt sorry for him, but personally I was comfortable in my nightshirt, no bra, and police issued sweats.

“Am I being charged with anything?” I asked.

The first man, Agent Liam, shook his head. “We’re not detaining you, Miss Conners.”

“Really? Because it sure as hell feels like it.”

“Do you have anywhere else to be? It’s not like you can go back home? The police have cordoned it off.”

“It’s called a hotel.”

His partner, Agent Benson, tsked, his head shaking from side to side at such naiveté. “You’re smarter than that, Conners. What if your new friends decide they want to do more than scare you? They’ve already proven that they can get to you at home, a hotel would be a walk in the park.”

I could see where all of this was going. If I didn’t have somewhere “safe” to go, the agents could keep me here all night. Simply by claiming that they couldn’t, in good conscious, let me leave when my life was in danger. I did not feel like sleeping in an interrogation room.

“I need to make a phone call.”

* * * *

I couldn’t call Sonya. Staying with her was too risky considering what we were doing. Especially since she was looking into the Huntsmen angle. Since I didn’t have any friends, and had given up the hope of a family as soon as I’d gotten out of the foster system, there was really only one option.


“Phaedra Conners.” He sounded pleased as punch to hear from me, and I tried not to shiver at the sound of his voice. It wouldn’t be good for the officer who was currently letting me use his desk phone to see just how strongly I was reacting to Gabriel Evans.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Change your mind about dinner? I’m delighted, but I’m afraid I don’t know any restaurants close by that are open at one o’clock in the morning.”

This was awkward.

“I was sort of hoping you could send someone to pick me up?”

“What’s wrong?” Almost instantly he shifted from easy flirtation to concern. It was sort of flattering. “Where are you?”

From where I sat, I could see the holding cell on the other side of the room. Turning my head, I waved uncertainly at the men currently handcuffed to their seats who were still waiting to be booked. The bald one with the dragon tattoo on his skull was the only one who waved back.

His name was Jack, and we’d become friendly acquaintances considering how often the two of us ended up in prison.

“About that…I-uh-I sort of need someone to come down to the police department.”

“Do I need to bring bail money?”

“I didn’t mean that you—” I sighed, “No. I don’t need bail.”

“Be there in five.” He hung up before I could say anything else. By “I,” I hoped he meant that he was sending some lower level office worker or something and not coming down to get me personally.

I held out on that hope, right up until the moment I saw him step into the precinct. He had on black silk pajama pants, a housecoat, and on his feet were a pair of Tasmanian Devil house slippers.

He was adorable.

After speaking briefly with the woman behind the front desk, he turned unerringly in my direction and beckoned me over. I got to my feet, but the sound of Agent Liam’s voice pulled me up short.

“Is this the ride you were talking about?”

“Sure is,” I told him smoothly.

“And you’re sure Evans’s little lackey will be able to keep you safe?” I thought I sensed genuine concern, but decided that it must have been a part of my imagination.

Looking at Evans I couldn’t help but relax for the first time since I’d been shot at. There was a quietness to him. Different from the charming playboy of before. It reminded me of the first time I’d seen him in the elevator. It was that same nameless something that had drawn me to him despite the blood on his face.

Turning back to Agent Liam, I reached out and shook his hand.

“More than sure. Thanks for your help earlier.”

He returned the handshake with a careful strength. “No problem.” His smile was lopsided, “You ever need anything else, you know where to find us.”

I laughed, “I’ll remember that.”

By the time I’d made my way over to Gabriel, he was staring at the agent with narrowed eyes and a curled lip. I patted his arm lightly as I passed and was rewarded when my touch dragged his attention away from the other man. I didn’t know what it was about Liam that had irritated him, and I was too tired to try and figure it out.

We left the police department and headed to his car in companionable silence. It wasn’t until I’d settled into the passenger seat of his red 2013 Viper that he spoke.

“What happened?”

I thought about lying, but figured the truth was my best bet. If anyone could keep me safe it was Evans, even if the reason I was in danger was also his fault.

“Someone shot up my apartment.”

He made a dangerous, unhappy sound in the back of his throat and I tried to appear very small in my seat.

“I’m not taking you home,” he snapped. His tone was bossy enough that it raised my own hackles.

“I’m not asking you to,” I barked back. “I just needed the cops to get off my back about police protection and I didn’t have anyone else to call.”

Admitting that I didn’t even have someone to crash with was painful, and for a moment an awkward silence filled the car as he acknowledged the fact that I was alone.

“Look,” I began, suddenly feeling defeated, “can you just drop me off at a Motel 6 or something?”

“Where’s your car?” he asked, not bothering to comment on my request.

I frowned. “It’s back at my place. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll ask Marcus to help you get it.”

“Thanks, but I’ll need a ride to and from work in the meantime,” I reminded him. “The motel is too far away from the office for me to walk there.”

“A motel may be, but the company apartment buildings are only a few blocks away.”

I blinked, struggling to see him through the dark interior of the car.

“What are you saying?”

His hands tightened almost imperceptibly around the steering wheel. “You can’t go home and a motel is out of the question. I’ll set you up in one of our spare apartments until all of this blows over.”

The Lumière Corporation had bought and renovated an old hotel a few years back. They kept it for Board members and their families, as well as employees who came for business from out of state. It was also useful for those international clients who came visiting for various reasons. It kept them from having to worry about paying for a hotel room or renting a car while they were in the U.S.

Rumor had it that these apartments were more like penthouse suites than your generic housing community, and I couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping at the thought that he was just going to give me one.

“I couldn’t—I mean, you can’t—” Again I was at a loss for words. I couldn’t come up with a good argument off the top of my head as to why I shouldn’t take the apartment. Even if the attack hadn’t been made by the Huntsmen, the only other enemies I’d made recently had been the Jensens. And even that had been done to help Evans.

He owed me sanctuary. Why was I surprised that he was actually giving it to me?

“Then it’s settled.” Sounding smugly satisfied, he pressed the gas and we flew into the upper echelons of society at almost ninety miles an hour. About half an hour later, I found myself standing in the center of my new, albeit temporary, apartment. It was double the size of my place and a hell of a lot nicer. There was a lot of stainless steel and exposed beams. Suddenly my life was an episode of House Hunters and I had a budget of $300,000 dollars. It was enough to give me an HGTV hard-on.

Evans, meanwhile, didn’t bother asking me if I liked my new accommodations. He could see the truth of it written all over my face.

“I’ll send Marcus to pick you up first thing in the morning.”

“And where are we supposed to be going?” I asked, running my fingers across the butcher-block countertop in the open concept kitchen.

“He’ll take you back home so you can pack…” He seemed to struggle for a moment. “…things,” he finished finally. Lamely.

“Things?”

I could hear the shrug in his voice. “You know. Whatever it is that women use to survive from day to day. Girl things.”

Thank god. I’d worried about what I was supposed to do for clothes and a toothbrush, but had dreaded the idea of going back home by myself. When I turned to express my thanks, I found him standing less than a foot away. He’d done it again. Gotten past my bubble without even the idea of a sound to betray his presence. It was darker in the kitchen than in the living room, since I had yet to turn on a light during my exploration. So when I looked at him, something about seeing all of that lean muscle towering over me made me feel as if I were trapped in one of those dreams. The kind of dream in which some shadow lover does wicked, dirty things to you before vanishing with the rise of the sun.


It didn’t help my delusions that there was just something about him…

There was a heat to him, something dark and smoky that drugged the senses and left me trembling and dazed. A heat that caressed the flesh like fingers and stirred something hungering and achy to life from the very center of my being. Was it just his proximity that made me react this way, or was it the look in his eyes and the way the shadows teased the strong lines of his face and jaw?

Maybe it was his proximity, or maybe it was just the fact that we were alone for the first time since I’d met him. No matter the reason, it didn’t take me long to reach a terrifying conclusion. I was lusting after Gabriel Evans. I wasn’t just reacting to a handsome man after a dry spell, or fixating on the forbidden.

I just wanted him.

Not so pure, but very simple.

“Mr. Evans-” I spoke without thinking about what I was going to say, or how I would disperse the sudden tension in the air. I’m sure I would have figured something out if he had given me the chance, but he sort of exploded at the sound of his name.

In a blur of movement, he had me backed up against the counter I’d been examining. Hips pressed flush against hips, the heat that had only teased me before now a searing brand where the hard length of him pressed against the soft promise of me.

His hands came up, and I gasped, growing still, either in anticipation or in fear of his touch. I wasn’t sure if I’d say no if he did put his hands on me. But he didn’t. At least not right away. Instead, his hands simply hovered, cupping the air on either side of my face as he leaned in and pressed his nose against my skin.

For a moment we were cheek to cheek. All I could feel was his hot, moist breath caressing my eardrum and the rough slide of his five o’clock shadow against my mouth.

“Gabriel,” he breathed, face rubbing against my own as if memorizing my features by touch alone. “My name is Gabriel.” His voice deepened and my thighs clenched, inner muscles clutching at nothing as that smooth baritone seemed to f*ck every vowel and consonant that it uttered. “It’s the only name I ever want to hear come out of your mouth. Say it.”

“Gabriel.” His hips pressed forward, and my head fell back of its own accord as his erection pressed against something small and sweet.

“Breathe it.”

“Gabriel.” It escaped on a sigh as his teeth nipped my earlobe.

“Moan it for me.”

I obliged; I couldn’t help it. It was only when he growled against the side of my neck in pleasure that some semblance of common sense tried to return.

What the hell was I doing?

What the hell was I letting him do?

Even if he were really my boss, this would be so wildly inappropriate it wasn’t even funny. Pressing my hands against his shoulders, I tried to shove him back. At first he didn’t even so much as budge, but then sanity seemed to return for him as well, because he flew back from me as if stung.

“I—” His eyes were wide, his face pale, and his shoulders hunched. He met my gaze only briefly before jerking his own away and down. “I’m sorry, Miss Conners.” His voice was so stiff, so formal, that it actually stung a little.

We stood there, me staring at him, him staring at the floor, before, with a bitter little smile, he inclined his head and said, “Goodnight.”

He was to the door before I could find my voice again.

“Phaedra,” I told him. “Just Phaedra.”

Back still to me, he stiffened for a heartbeat. Two. Then, a rueful chuckle.

“Phaedra,” he agreed. The smile that he sent over his shoulder was softer, more intimate, than all the ones before. “Goodnight Phaedra.”

I swallowed. “Goodnight…Gabriel.”

Then he was gone.

I stood there in the half-lit apartment for what felt like a very long time. No matter how tightly I wrapped my arms around myself I couldn’t seem to erase the chill that his absence had left behind.

For the first time since agreeing to this whole mess, the task before me felt daunting.

* * * *

As was quickly becoming the norm, my interaction with Marcus was marked by long intense silences, a couple of dirty looks, and your occasional snide comment. So, in essence, we were actually getting along famously.

It wasn’t until he was dropping me off at my car after helping me pack up some things from my apartment that anything of note happened.

“You don’t have much family do you?”

I straightened almost immediately, forgetting the duffle bag I’d been trying to stuff into my trunk. The look I sent him was filled with the appropriate amount of venom.

“If by ‘much’ you mean ‘none at all,’ then no. I don’t.” A fact I was sure he was perfectly aware of, since it was as much a part of public record as my criminal history.

Sighing as if he’d rather be anywhere else, Marcus stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and leaned against the side of my car.

“There’s nothing wrong with being an orphan,” he told me. “Gabe doesn’t have any parents either.” He paused and his voice turned harsh. “The difference between you and Gabriel is that someone actually wanted him.”

I jerked back as if he’d struck me.

“I don’t mind if you two want to share some bodily fluids every now and then, but that’s as far as it’s ever going to go,” he continued, his eyes hard and cold as he watched me. Searching to see if the barbs he threw were drawing blood.

My lips tightened and I crossed my arms over my chest to hide the rage that had whitened my knuckles. “Last time I checked, Gabriel wasn’t some simpering virgin, so why are you playing the overly protective papa? Not that I mind. It’s cute, in fact. But I don’t think he’d appreciate you sticking your nose in his business when it’s really none of yours.”

He snarled at me, a throaty, angry sound that had me taking a step back even as he advanced.

“I’m doing you a favor. We may not be blood, but Gabe is family and I’m not the only one who sees him that way. Some of them aren’t nearly as forgiving as I am when it comes to little girls who like playing Gold-Digger. And believe me, love, compared to them I’m a goddamned Tickle Me Elmo.”

I couldn’t even enjoy mentally picturing Marcus giggling in hysterics every time someone poked his belly. I was too busy trying to bury the hurt his words had caused. I was angry, yeah, but a small part of me, the part who was reminded every holiday and birthday that she was an orphan, wanted to cry. I wanted that. Someone who would look out for me. Who would commit violence for me.

I bet it would be nice to not have to fight my own battles for once.

“Hey,” his voice was an unwelcome intrusion to my thoughts, “are we on the same page or not Conners?”

I shrugged as if I could care less. “Oh yeah,” I assured him. “I’m even a couple of paragraphs ahead.”

Getting into his car, his lips tightened in annoyance. I could have sworn I heard him mutter “smartass” before he revved his engine and drove away, but somehow I couldn’t enjoy the title as much as I usually did.





“The moon is my god now. I dance for it, I pine for it, and if it asked, I would kill for it.”

—Gemma Watson