A chick after his own heart—straight to the point. Oh yeah, he was one lucky bastard.
Maybe turning forty hadn’t fucked with his ability to draw in the younger chicks as badly as he’d thought. And this one was all his. No strings. No leveling of the playing field with a little compliant cocktail. He pushed off the door and strode to where she stood, her arms twisted behind her, fingers tugging at the zipper tracing her spine. She licked her lips and he thought he’d have to fuck her with the dress on.
Patience. If he played this right he might get an hour of magic on video.
He pushed her hands away and dragged the zipper slowly down to that perfect little dimple where her ass began. Damn he couldn’t wait to tap this bitch. She was so fucking hot.
The dress fell to the floor and she stepped out of it, racy stilettoes all that was left of her fashionista outfit. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes hooded as if she, too, was already burning up. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”
Miles laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
He grabbed the hem of his V-necked tee and pulled it over his head, tossed it aside. He was usually the one who gave the orders. He liked being in control. But he could see the fun in being the submissive one from time to time. Especially with this chick. This one was special, he could tell. Jeans went next and that was it. Underwear and socks were two things he never bothered to wear. Ready was his middle name.
While she watched, he climbed onto the bed and stretched out. He didn’t mind her staring. His body was his temple and he took very good care of it. Like a movie star or a rock star, the way he looked was part of the job. He had used his looks and his charm to lure so many pretty girls into his sweet trap he’d lost count. Young things were his specialty. There was money to be made with the tender ones. Young, usually innocent, girls showed up for college with wide eyes and big dreams. Then, after a while, they got lonely. So lonely. And ripe for the picking. All they wanted was someone to care about them—to love them and touch them in just the right ways.
It was so freakin’ easy to spot the neediest ones. The ones who would never dare tell. College campuses were the perfect hunting ground.
Not this time though. This time, she had spotted him outside the club. She came to him, wanted him. Tempted him. He liked it.
A change of pace could be a good thing.
By God, he was about to give her every hard inch of what he had. “Come on, baby. I’m ready.”
She bent down and picked up her bag, carried it to the bed and placed it next to him.
He grinned. “Got some tricks in there, huh?”
She smiled as she straddled his hips. “And they’re all just for you.”
“I don’t do handcuffs,” he warned. He’d made that mistake once and ended up having to take the bed apart to get out of the motel after the bitch left him that way.
She reached into her bag and brought out a condom. “Don’t worry. I don’t do handcuffs either.”
He growled, “Hurry up.” His dick was already nudging the slit in that sweet naked cunt of hers. He hated hairy pussy. Bare was the way to go. Good girl.
She tore the package open with her mouth, then licked her lips. When she’d smoothed the slick rubber onto him, he shuddered. He was so fucking ready. She guided him deep inside her. He groaned. Jesus, she was hot and snug.
He reached for her tits, barely a handful but enough. He took one in each hand as she started to rock. She did this little maneuver with her thighs, tightening them against him at the same time her pussy cinched like a vise. Man, he was ready to explode. He closed his eyes and lifted his hips. He wanted more.
“Go, baby, go,” he murmured.
While she rocked, she reached into her bag again and brought out silk scarves. She leaned forward, leaving nothing but his tip throbbing inside her. He almost lost it as she tied his right hand to the headboard with the scarf.
“You’re okay with this, aren’t you?”
He nodded and arched his hips to get back inside her. Right now he would have agreed to most anything. “Oh yeah.”
She did the same with his left hand, and then she smiled down at him. For one instant he was caught off guard—his gut clenched. There was something familiar about her eyes. Did he know her?
“Relax,” she urged as she executed another of those vise-like moves, and then pressed harder down onto him.
His eyes closed as those hot, mind-blowing contractions started deep in his belly. The world could come to an end right now and he wouldn’t care... All that mattered was that freakin’ awesome pressure building, making his dick throb and swell, ready to explode.
Something hit him hard in the chest.
His eyes shot open.
Red oozed from a narrow slit in his chest. What the hell? His chest hurt like a son of a bitch. “Motherfucker!” He gasped. Coughed. Tried to yank his hands loose.
The big ass knife she held came down again, stabbing deep into his gut, and then twisting. Blood spurted. He gasped, a terrible seal-like sound. He couldn’t get enough air inside his chest.
Where the hell was all that blood coming from?
Another blaze of pain seared through his chest. He couldn’t breathe...
He couldn’t get loose.
Air. He needed air. He gagged. Gasped.
She leaned down closer, driving the knife deeper with her weight. He grunted the strangest sound. She pressed her cheek to his, hot blood squirting between them, and then she whispered to him.
Smiling, she rose up and started rocking slowly against him once more.
His mind wouldn’t work, wouldn’t wrap around the words she said. He tried to speak. Couldn’t. Blood was no longer spurting from his gut—it only oozed. He felt his heart stutter, then stop.
Was he supposed to feel it stop like that?
He’d always thought if your heart stopped you were dead, but he wasn’t dead yet, just helpless. He could still see... Could still hear and even feel...
Moving faster now, she cried out, head flung back in orgasm.
He groaned... Sick, sick bitch.
His vision narrowed and just before the darkness engulfed him, he came.
Those awful words she’d said followed him into the nothingness.
12
Antebellum Inn
7:30 a.m.
Tony jerked awake. He blinked. What the hell?
Memories of the woman he’d picked up at the bar flashed one after the other in his brain. He checked the other side of the bed. Empty. The sheets on that side were cold. She’d been gone for a while.
He ran a hand through his hair and prayed the throbbing would go away. What the hell had he been thinking? He was supposed to keep himself together. Angie and Steve were counting on him. Tiffany was counting on all three of them.
A bang on the door jerked his attention there. Angie? Not likely. Even if his sister was thoroughly pissed she wouldn’t try and break down the door. He swept aside the sheets and dropped his feet to the floor. Grabbing his jeans, he tugged them on. Hopefully nothing worse had happened while he was going stupid last night.
“Open up, LeDoux!”
Tony blinked and swayed. Shit. He staggered toward the door but it burst open before he reached it. Sunlight poured in around the two suits who stepped inside as if they owned the place.
“Who the hell are you?” The throb in his head increased with the pounding in his chest. If something had happened to Angie... What if Tiffany’s body had been found? His gut clenched.
The first and older of the two suits flashed his credentials. “Special Agent Jerry Richards. This is my colleague, Special Agent Liam Johnson. We need to have a talk with you if you’re not too busy this morning.”
Tony dragged on his shirt. “Make yourselves at home.”
The two agents pulled out chairs around the table and settled there. The younger of the two held up a paper cup. “We brought you coffee. Thought you might need it.”