Beneath These Scars (Beneath #4)(11)

“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You didn’t freak, you flipped the f*ck out. I’ve never seen you like that. And if your first instinct was to get out of your place, then I’m going to make sure you stay out—at least for tonight.”

“No, I’m fine. We can go back.” My skin prickled and my heart hammered even as I said the words. I didn’t want to go back to my apartment; I needed time to toughen up my armor before I went to slay that dragon. It was a momentary weakness. I could allow myself that, right? But only momentary.

I turned to Levi. “Just drop me at a hotel by the airport. That way you can catch your flight. I don’t want to make you miss it.”

But Levi turned in the opposite direction and headed for the Garden District. “I have a better idea.”

“Um, what?”

“Stay at my place. It’ll be empty, so it’s perfect.”

It sounded like a great idea. Until I saw his place.

I turned to Levi. “Who the hell are you?”





THIS WASN’T THE KIND OF place I should be staying as a guest. A woman like me had more business cleaning this house than curling up between sheets that probably cost more than my car. Hell, even cleaning this house would require a background check. It felt all sorts of wrong to be wandering around it by myself.

When I’d asked Levi who the hell he was, he’d just smiled and said his brother was loaded and had left the country today on a business trip. I’d stowed the urge to ask more questions, not wanting Levi to miss his flight.

Please, God, don’t let Levi’s brother be a drug kingpin. That would just be too much for me to handle right now. But then again, if he were some kind of cartel badass, then I guess I was in about the safest place possible. The panel of the security system mounted on the wall by the front door had taken a fourteen-digit code to enter, and I still couldn’t believe I had it.

This mansion was even bigger than the house my mama’s man lived in. The one she wasn’t ever allowed to go in because she was the mistress. I came from classy roots, no doubt about it. The blood of owned women ran in my veins going back almost a hundred years. It was the family tradition, a dynasty of whores, if you would. And I’d thought I’d been flouting tradition by marrying the man who wanted me. Turned out that marriage to a man like that was an even worse sort of slavery.

A shudder racked my body. I needed to find something to do before thoughts of Jay had me freaking out again. So I wandered the first floor, avoiding the rooms with closed doors until I smelled chlorine.

Seriously? An indoor pool?

As if I needed more evidence Levi’s brother was loaded. I stared longingly through the glass walls at the blue water surrounded by a gorgeous tile mosaic floor in shades of cream, aqua, and gold.

The house was empty . . .

Could I indulge a little? I weighed the decision. How often did a girl from Tremé get to use a private indoor pool with one of those lap lanes that let you swim against the current and keep going forever?

The answer was simple. Almost never.

And if I were swimming, maybe I could finally shut off my brain before I drove myself crazy. There was just one little problem—I didn’t bring a bathing suit. I pushed through the door to the pool room anyway, breathing in a deep lungful of the chlorine-scented air.

Again my mind went to the fact that the house was empty. Just little old me rattling around inside. Levi had said his brother wouldn’t be home for a week. I’d be gone tomorrow, so tonight . . . screw it. I kicked off my sandals next to a lounge chair and tugged my shirt up and over my head. My bra followed, and then my skirt and underwear. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought.

I strode to the side, curling my toes over the tile edge, and dove in.

My body relaxed and I breathed a sigh of relief as I broke the surface and swam a few yards underwater. It was the perfect temperature, and the thrill of naughty, decadent freedom built with every pull of my arms and kick of my legs.

I made my way down the length of the pool, diving under the surface and pushing off the bottom to pop my head up again. Reaching the lap lane, I swam to the side and wondered where the control was that would activate the current. Locating a small panel at the end, I tested the buttons one by one until the current surged to life.

Win.

I let it push me backward before lowering my head and paddling against it with what felt like long, smooth strokes. I swam until my arms, shoulders, and thighs burned with fatigue. Finally ready to get out, I let the current sweep me back again until it lessened, and I dropped my feet to the tile bottom and got my footing.

A low, deep voice came from behind me, and I froze.

“How the hell did you get in here? And more importantly, how can I have you strip on command if you’re already naked?”





IT HAD BEEN A LONG f*cking day.

I was supposed to be on my way to Dusseldorf right now, but the week of meetings I’d been scheduled to attend had fallen apart three hours ago when the CEO of the supplier had been hospitalized with a heart attack. A quadruple bypass had a way of changing plans. Inconvenient as hell, and yet not a damn thing I could do about it.

So now I had a rare evening free of plans or commitments. Which meant I’d worked until everyone had left for the day plus another hour before finally heading home.

I’d planned to do nothing but relax with my cigar and Scotch until I walked past the glass walls of the pool room that stretched along the back quarter of the house. And that was when I saw the intruder.