UP IN FLAMES

Time for another subject change. “Did you always want to be a Detective?”

Alaric gave a little half smile. “I used to work as a bodyguard for a while, but I don’t do a lot of personal protection anymore. I guess this is a special case.” He winked at her, and damn if it wasn’t sexy as hell.

“That didn’t answer my question,” she said, feeling her lips curve into a grin.

“I don’t know.” His hand slid an inch up her leg. “I always kind of did the whole…watching out for others thing-like with my brothers. Just something that came naturally to me. I was the only one who could really pick what I wanted to do. My brother always played ball, since he was old enough to pick one up. The other was primed to take on our father’s business, but me? Yeah, I could do whatever.”

Interested, she looked at him. “Did you go to college?”

“I did. Are you surprised?”

“No.” She knew he wasn’t just all brawn, even though she liked to say that. “What did you study? Kicking ass?”

He laughed deeply, causing her grin to spread. “Honey, I didn’t need to study that. I could teach those classes.”

“Of course.”

Grinning as he checked out the rearview mirror, he switched lanes. “I actually majored in computer science.”

“Nerd,” she teased.

“I’m a badass nerd,” he corrected, sliding his thumb along the side of her thigh. “What about you? Always wanted to be a writer?”

Her gaze drifted to his hand. “I majored in communications, minored in sociology. I actually wanted to be a psychologist but realized I wouldn’t have the patience for that.” She laughed softly. “No big surprise there, right?”

“Never,” he murmured.

“But I liked the idea of…of I don’t know

… writing my story, She snuck another quick look at him. “.. And the ones in my head.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Maybe one day I will get to read one of your books.”

She found herself blushing. “Sure…I guess.” She wet her lips, “You’re…you’re not like I thought you would be.”

“What did you think I was?”

“I don’t know.” It was hard to put into words. “It’s just that you’ve surprised me. That’s all.”

Alaric eased the car out of traffic, pulling into a parking lot. “Well, we’re here.”

The restaurant definitely wasn’t high-end, more like the chain type, but she was okay with that, comfortable with the chill atmosphere. She started to reach for the door handle.

“Wait,” he said, and she twisted toward him.

When she opened her mouth, Alaric leaned in, closing the distance between them. She started to pull back, but his hand snaked around the nape of her neck, holding her in place. The kiss was soft…and it was sweet-sweeter than she’d ever thought he’d kiss, like she was a fragile slice of a treasure he was only starting to explore. Alaric pulled back just enough that when he spoke, his lips brushed hers.

“I’m glad you’re here with me right now, Vanessa,”

——-

“Thirsty?” Alaric asked, when they returned back to his place that evening. Vanessa shrugged and led the way into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she handed him a cold bottle of water before deciding she’d rather have a glass of wine. She pulled out a bottle, grabbed the electric corkscrew and opened a bottle. After pouring herself a glass, she took a seat across from him at the kitchen table, hoping he didn’t try to discuss what had happened between them the previous night.

When her phone rang, she jumped, almost welcoming the distraction. “No one uses that number. It’s got to be the blackmailer.” She said,

“Wait.” Alaric jumped up and grabbed some kind of electronic apparatus from the kitchen counter. “Just keep him on the line long enough for me to get a location.”

Taking a fortifying gulp of wine, she nodded. “I’ll try.” And then she took a deep breath and answered the phone.

“Your time is up,” the caller said, his voice both gleeful and threatening. The combination sent a shiver down her spine. “Do you have my money?”

“About that,” she replied, glancing at Alaric and wondering how she could still find him magnificently sexy in the middle of this. He’d put on headphones and pushed a button on the small machine. Seeing her watching, he gave her a thumbs-up.

“We need to talk about your request for money,” she continued, her voice firm enough that she felt it didn’t betray her nervousness.

Interrupting her, the man snarled, “You don’t have it, do you?”

Instead of shrinking away from the malice in his tone, she kept her voice strong. “First off, how do I even know Christopher really owed you anything?”

Pushing back felt pretty liberating, actually. “I mean, anyone could call me up and insist my husband owed them money. How do I even know if that’s true? If I took everyone at their word, I’d be handing out money left and right. I’m afraid you’re going to need proof.”

“Proof?” he repeated, incredulous. “You want proof?”

“Yes. You need to back up your claim. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to consider you just another crackpot trying to benefit from a widow and her horrible loss.”

Silence. When he spoke again, his voice had gone low and simmered with fury. “I warned you what would happen if you didn’t pay. Don’t try to stall me.

Do you really want me to go to the media and the police with evidence that you’re a murderer?”

“Go ahead,” she shot back. “Since I had nothing to do with Christopher’s death, I’m really interested to see this so-called evidence. Either put up or shut up.”

Again, it appeared she’d stunned him into silence.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

She looked over at Alaric, grinning.

“Keep him on the line,” he mouthed.

“Cat got your tongue?” she taunted when the caller still didn’t speak. “Come on, it’s not that hard. If Christopher legitimately owes you money, you should be able to come up with something to document your claim.

Otherwise, you need to go away and leave me alone.”

One second passed, and then another. “I’ll get your proof,” he said. “But you won’t like it. Goodbye.” And he ended the call.