Decadent (Wicked Lovers #2)

The footsteps entered her bedroom, paused, wandered around, then headed to the closet.

As Kimber braced herself against the wall behind her walkin closet’s door, her hand came into contact with something solid, wooden. She smiled. And she was damn glad that she’d been on the apartment complex’s co-ed softball team.

Wasn’t this shithead in for a surprise?

Deke’s palms had sweated for the entire one hundred miles into Dallas. Nearly twenty-four hours after Kimber had dropped her bombshell, he was ready to talk to her. No, he had to talk to her. So he’d driven west, into the thick, inky night, with his insides jolting like he was hooked up to jumper cables.

Luc had spoken a lot of truths. A dozen years ago, Deke had been guilty of many things. Having sex with an emotionally unstable girl. Thinking with the wrong head. Letting the abundance of Heather’s emotions—and her family’s—drown out his logic.

What he hadn’t done, as his cousin and Kimber had pointed out, was forced Heather to swallow the pills. A hard fact to accept, but the truth. She’d chosen that path herself…for reasons he’d probably never understand, but weren’t all related to the pregnancy.

Facing his grief again had brought Deke right to the source of his guilt—and he was finally seasoned enough to understand where he’d most fucked up with Heather. He’d let her go before he knew what could have been between them. He’d been seventeen and terrified by her pregnancy, then furious that she’d fucked someone else to spite him. They hadn’t spoken for nearly three weeks…then she’d ended everything permanently, leaving him with nothing but questions and gut-wrenching remorse.

Had he loved Heather? Maybe he’d been too young to know what love was, but he hadn’t been ready for their bond to be broken, especially by Heather’s suicide. In retrospect, what he’d been most guilty of was being too stupid and scared to fight for what might have been.

He was not making that mistake with Kimber, especially since he knew he loved her. If she wanted to end their relationship, the choice would be hers.

Unfortunately, Deke had no illusions; he’d behaved like a deranged moron after Kimber had announced her pregnancy. Like Luc had said…he’d treated her worse than he’d treated Heather.

The revelation of his cousin’s secret hadn’t contributed to his overall good mood or mental health, either. But now that he’d had time to process all the shocks and talk himself off the emotional ledge, it was time to make things different. Or at least try in his way.

Looking up Kimber’s address on the Internet had been too easy. He’d have to talk to her about protecting her personal information a little better. Later.

He cruised the apartment complex’s parking lot, trying to find her building in the dark. It wasn’t well marked, damn it. Deke frowned as he glanced around. The units were far apart, with a park-like area in the middle. A lot of trees all around.

Lots of dark, shadowed corners. No guard gates around the place.

Why was it that women, the more vulnerable sex to attack, never thought about security before they settled into a place to live?

Maybe after tonight, she’d leave here and go with him, so the lack of safety measures here wouldn’t be an issue. Yeah, he could handle that. Hell, he craved it.

First, he had to find out if she’d have anything to do with him.

He spotted Kimber’s building toward the back of the complex, butting up against an empty field and surrounded by big trees casting shadows under the moonlight.

She had a ground-floor unit. And on his first pass by her apartment, he could see that her window was wide open.

With a ripe curse, he parked his Hummer, wondering why the fuck she hadn’t just locked up tight and turned on the airconditioning. Why had Logan and Hunter let her move into such a hard-to-defend place? Why hadn’t her brothers lectured her within an inch of her life about the fact a single woman leaving doors unlocked and windows wide open was a fucking engraved invitation to violent sickos who looked at rape and torture as entertainment?

Locking the vehicle behind him, Deke jogged to her door and knocked. And waited in the still night barely broken by crickets chirping.

Nothing.

He frowned. Maybe she was fast asleep. Or maybe she wasn’t here. Ever think about that, asshole?

He’d heard on the radio today that she’d been spotted at a cozy little deli having lunch with the prick with the falsetto pipes. Was Kimber having feelings for Jesse again? Deke could hardly blame her after the way he’d treated her, but God, the thought made him want to throw up.

He whipped out his cell phone and called her. No answer. She had caller ID, so she was avoiding him. Had to be. Deke wanted to beat the fucking phone against her door. Frustration boiled inside him, shooting upward like some science experiment coiling up a test tube and about to blow. But he wasn’t giving up. It was hotter than hell tonight, looked like it might rain. But that meant shit. He’d camp on her front door step all night— days, if necessary—until she came home.

Deke’s shoulders sagged. He couldn’t pretend that knowing she didn’t want to talk to him didn’t hurt. And if he didn’t stop walking this mental territory again, he’d start bawling like a baby. Again. He wanted to be a man when he faced her, so he could look her in the eye and promise he’d do everything he could to be the man for her. But could he be the man she needed? Self-doubt lashed him like a vicious whip.

Pressing his forehead to her door, Deke resisted wrestling with his inner demons, but the fuckers just kept coming after his hope. Fisting his hands against the door, he wished she was here, that he could hold her. He loved her so much… Her no-nonsense approach. Her quick wit. That surprising naughty streak. The way she rolled with the punches and handled life with aplomb. Her ease with her emotions, the times she’d shared them so totally when he’d been with her…inside her. God, let her come back to him.

A sound—a grunt?—ripped through his thoughts. Faint, but…out of place. A man’s grunt coming from Kimber’s place. He frowned and drifted over to the window. Another sound he couldn’t place. A crash, like something hitting the wall.

What the fuck? Anxiety clawed at his gut. Was she…spread out under some other man, maybe Jesse, in her bed? No. He would not believe— No, not Kimber. She wasn’t Heather. But Deke still didn’t know what the noises were. He only knew they were out of place.

Crawling inside the window, Deke withdrew his SIG Sauer from his shoulder holster, just in case. He crept around the sofa, past the galley kitchen, then down the hall, gun in the lead. He fought the urge to charge like a bull. Slowly, carefully, until he knew what the fuck was going on.

A high-pitched scream ripped through the night, stabbing up his spine. Kimber!

Fuck careful.

Charging down the hall to the source of the sound, he reached her bedroom.

Dark, empty. Bed mussed. Shit. The sounds of a struggle through the bathroom made him whip his head around. It was coming from behind the closed door inside the bathroom. The closet?

If the son of a bitch had harmed a hair on Kimber’s head, he’d be eating for the rest of his life through a straw—after just the first punch. If Deke got in a second one…the fucker would have no need for a straw—or food—period.

Creeping toward the closed door, Deke tried to listen. He didn’t want to endanger Kimber by jumping in like an idiot.

“Put the baseball bat down,” growled the man. “I don’t want to cause you pain.” Whoosh. Thud. Grunt.

“Bitch! That hurt.”

Kimber had nailed him. Good. The bastard wasn’t at his best, and she was still alive. All good news. Deke knew he might not ultimately win her, but he could goddamn save her.

Suddenly, Kimber cried out.

“Damn you, die like a good girl.”

“No! ” Her terror dripped down the walls and slashed at Deke’s gut.

Deke uncorked the bottle of his emotions—the fear, guilt, frustration, rage—and let them fly as he blasted the door to the closet aside and rocketed into the room. It was damn dark in the little closet, but he saw the outline of Kimber’s body going down, the sick thud of her head striking the wall. Blood gushed down her front.

Oh, no. Hell no! God… Pushing panic away for fury, Deke whirled, grabbed the intruder by the neck, and pushed him against the wall. The glint of metal arcing in his direction caught his attention. He swerved his torso out of the way and tightened his fingers around the man’s throat. With the other hand, he pointed his gun right in the asshole’s forehead.

“Toss the knife to my feet.”

The intruder hesitated. Deke could hear his harsh gasps, smell his fear, feel his trembling. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to see the bastard bleed, writhe in pain, twist under his fingers as he begged for mercy.

Welcome to your inner caveman.

Shoving the thought away, Deke sent the man a lethal glare. “I don’t need much of a reason to blow your head open, motherfucker. Drop the knife.” Hesitation, indecision. Deke inched the gun forward, pressed his palm into the asshole’s windpipe. Still, he didn’t cooperate.

And Deke had no idea if Kimber’s life was bleeding out onto the closet floor at this very moment.

“I’m done jacking with you.” Deke’s finger tightened on the trigger.

The intruder finally sensed that Deke meant business and tossed the knife down.

It landed at the toe of Deke’s left boot. Stepping on it so it couldn’t come back into play, Deke tried to come down off his aggression high. Kimber needed him now.

Deke pointed to the farthest corner of the closet. “Sit here on your hands. Don’t move. If you even twitch, you and my friend SIG Sauer are going to get to know each other real well, you got me?”

Under Deke’s palm, the man swallowed. Then nodded. Resisting the urge to crush his windpipe for the hell of it, Deke backed away, aimed his gun at the assailant, and watched as his shadow went to the wall and sank to the floor. Without looking away, Deke tucked the knife away and flipped on a light. Mr. Intruder was wearing a ski mask. How TV show of him.

But that was the only thought he could spare as he sank to his knees in front of Kimber, searching for the source of her blood with one hand, training the gun on the asshole with the other.

Oh, damn. Oh, God… Let her live. The panic rose in him again. He slammed the lid on it brutally. Logic. Think. Suck it up and be smart.

Deke looked her over quickly. Kimber was out cold, but her heart was beating at a steady pace. She breathed. There was a cut in her forearm. Deep. Would need stitches ASAP. He pulled a shirt off a nearby hanger and applied pressure to the wound. It had likely come from the intruder’s knife. Probably from putting her arm in front of her to defend herself. And he could only imagine the terror she must have been feeling watching that knife come at her…

He speared the intruder with a stare of cold fury. “If she dies, you die. You got me?”

The head under the ski mask gave a shaky bob.

He couldn’t find any other stab wounds on her. But panic rose. Why the hell was she unconscious? She’d hit her head on the way down. How badly?

Deke flipped open his phone and called 911. He gave them Kimber’s address.

“Police units are already in progress to that location, sir. About two minutes away.”

Kimber had called. Smart girl, his kitten. Hang on, baby.

“I need an ambulance, too. She’s unconscious.” Then he hung up.

“Did you drug her?”

“No,” the voice cracked.

“Rape her?”

“No.”

“But you wanted to kill her, you sick fuck,” he growled. “Take off the mask.” The guy hesitated, and Deke raised the SIG. “Now!” Off it came…and Deke could only stare. “What the…? You’re at least fifty-five.” Wasn’t he a little old for the thrill of home intrusions?

He cleared his throat. “Sixty-two.”

“You get off on hurting women, Gramps?” The thought made him want to wretch, then strangle the vile son of a bitch.

“No. Nothing personal. I didn’t want to cause her pain. I just wanted her out of the way.”

His hand on the gun tightened. “Out of the way of what?” Silence.

“You better fucking answer!” Deke shouted. “I’m at the end of my patience—”

“Of Jesse McCall’s career. She’d tried to end it a few times, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He’s been all over the press… He’s self-destructing. Imploding.

He’s going to destroy his career and everyone who’s invested in him for this woman.”

An old guy focused on Jesse. Given everything Kimber had told him and Luc about Jesse’s situation, this had to be the manager. What was his name… Cal?

“I’m too old to start over again.” The man’s voice trembled.

The old guy was whacked. Stupid to think that killing Kimber was going to solve his problems. If Deke didn’t get the cops over here soon, he didn’t know if he could hold his fury and itch for vengeance long enough for the police to need anything but a body bag for the scum. Even if he managed, the old guy would be starting life over inside a cell.