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I take her by the shoulders. “We probably don’t have much time left. I need you to trust?—”
“You?” A sharp laugh tears from her lips. “You want me to trust you?”
“Yes.” It’s a hard ask, but I need her to trust me on that basic level. Because I need her.
“I don’t trust you.” She wrenches away and presses back into the wall, and I take in how she’s holding her bag. I rip it from her and pull out the gun. “Do you even know how to fucking use this?”
“Pull the trigger.”
“You’re not keeping this.” I check it, make sure the safety is on, and stick it into the back of my jeans.
“Someone took your cousin,” I say, keeping my voice low. “And fine, you don’t trust me, with good reason?—”
“Why?” she asks, and tears shimmer in among the anger and accusations. “Why should I trust you? I don’t even know who you are or what your agenda is.”
“Scarlett.” I cup her chin with gentle fingers, and it’s like a punch to the stomach when she flinches away. But I capture her again. “Scarlett, listen. I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you what I’m doing or who I work for.”
“Then how can I trust you?”
“Because I’m asking you to. You’ve let me tie you up. That was trust. It doesn’t matter that you aren’t sure what to make of me and my story, but you trust me on some gut level.”
“I want you,” she says, voice breaking, “but that’s different. It isn’t trust.”
“Bullshit.” I take in a breath. I know I need to give her something, but the Obsidian Knights or what I plan to do to her father? That’s off the table. “The story about me? Growing up? My mother? That’s all true. Well, I don’t know if she’s dead for sure, most likely, she is. My name is Malone, Malone West. And I need the client list. You don’t have to like me, but I’m one of the good guys. I might not be a good man, but I’m on the side that does good.”
“What if you’re lying?”
“Red, do you honestly believe I’d be standing here begging you to trust me, to work with me to find Amelia if I took her? Christ, there are better ways to blackmail someone, or whatever the fuck you think I’m doing. If I’d taken her, I wouldn’t be here. And shit, you’d be my bet in that, not a kid.”
She looks up at me. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think your uncle can save your cousin? What’s your instinct about the fucking phone call you got?” I ask. In my head, the clock’s still ticking down. We don’t have time for this bullshit.
Someone’s on their way here, according to her. Someone took her cousin, and they want something. The threats I never sent or carried out, someone else did. The competition? UR Fantasies? Some disgruntled client? I still don’t know. But instinct tells me with this setup in here, it’s someone in the illicit and probably illegal sex trade, specifically fucked-up real-life porn. And I need her help to get the list. I need her help to get her cousin and to find her fuck of a father who’s taken off on some kind of business trip. Or gone into hiding, because Grant fucking Hanlon was shifty as fuck when he said that. Didn’t want me there.
He’s also the one who didn’t like the security at his house even when he knew there was a threat against his kid.
At least Amelia had the smarts to call the number I left her, and that gave us a jump on trying to get an identity of the person who snatched her.
We’re good at our jobs. Exceptional, but in a busy building, things can be a lot harder to spot. She wasn’t kidnapped at gunpoint, so there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for us to search for or call into question.
But she called, and that was enough to get us started.
We need more time, dammit.
“It was odd. Why bank accounts? The list? What’s going on, Malone?” she asks.
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.” I’m a fucking bastard for doing this, but I kiss her. Soft and sweet and tender. It’s a cruel move, one designed to play into her attraction to me, to her feelings for me. To convince her that she needs to let down her defenses.
Scarlett Hanlon’s not the type to do all that insanely intimate, kinky sex without falling for someone. She might not know it, but she is. Has. Whatever. And I need to use that. Shit, it’s probably why I felt the way I did last night. I could feel it in the air.
So I kiss her again and her lips cling, tongue touching mine, and it’s magic; it really is. She’s so fucking warm and soft, and her kisses are fuel for fantasy, for comfort, they’re imbued with emotion and she melts into me.
I lift my head and rest my forehead against hers. “I’ll find out, Red. You’re important. And I’m here to help. I swear.”
The lies come quickly, but I’m here to help find her cousin. In the aftermath, maybe that’ll be comforting.
“I want Amelia back.” She’s still a little soft around the edges as she says that. “Is someone actually coming here?”
