Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(52)

“I don’t think so.” They were perfectly fine talking as they were—she didn’t have to be in a confined space with the man.

“Are you going to fight me on everything?”

This time, it was she who was shrugging with a slight smile. “More than likely.”

“Get in.”

Reagan shook her head, even as she took in the black leather of its interior. “I can’t.”

“No? And that wouldn’t be because of Liam, right?”

Shit. How was she supposed to answer that? She couldn’t say it was, not when she had told him earlier that Liam wasn’t a problem.

“It’s complicated,” she settled on saying.

“Then let me un-complicate it.”

“There are some things that aren’t an easy fix, Niklaus. It’s not that simple. And why are you making a big deal out of this anyway? We slept together a few times, that doesn’t mean you can just walk in here and expect my life to be amendable to yours.”

“Then let’s clear the air and make amends so we can move on.”

“Move on?”

“I told you once that I came back here for you—you chose not to believe that.” Again, he gestured to his car. “You either get in, or I’ll put you in.”

“Fine.” It didn’t sound like she had much of a choice anyway. “If I go with you, will you stop showing up at my place?”

He smirked. “Not even if you begged me.”

Annoyed all over again, Reagan threw her hands up, even as she crossed the short distance to his car. “Niklaus—”

His words stopped her on the spot.

“I grew to hate that name—Niklaus—stopped going by it a long time ago. Klaus if I know you and if I don’t. You’re one of two people that call me by that name, and only from you do I enjoy hearing it. When you say it, whether you’re pissed at me like now, or when you’re begging me to let you come, it reminds me of a time when I was less of an *.”

Reagan said his name, though she hadn’t meant to, just a whisper in the wind, but he caught it, that dark, amused smile of his curling is lips up as he gave her a slight push to get in.

“Just like that. Can’t say I didn’t miss the sound of your voice, especially when you’re turned on.”

She swallowed nervously, feeling the heat rise in her face. “I’m not.”

His smile slipped a little, but not in disappointment, it had an almost lazy quality to it, but she was stuck watching his eyes drift over her face, down the curve of her neck, until he reached the V in her shirt, and the cleavage it displayed. Reaching for her with his free hand, he traced a single finger down her stomach, pausing when he reached the hem of her shirt.

He didn’t go any further, just let his touch linger over that expanse of skin left uncovered, goosebumps erupting in his wake. “Let me make a liar out of you.”

Temptation, that was what Niklaus was—her ultimate temptation.

Ignoring his remark, she asked, “Are you driving or what?”

“You sure that’s all you want?” Niklaus asked, his tone quite clear as to what he was suggesting.

No. No, she wasn’t sure of that at all. “Yeah.”

This time, she finally did climb inside his car, inhaling the warm scent that made up the interior. There was the leather, the faint aroma of tobacco, and finally the scent of Niklaus himself. Now, it felt like he was surrounding her.

As she moved to pull on her seatbelt, she came up short when she realized that it wasn’t a normal seatbelt at all, but a four-point harness.

“Seriously, you need one of these? How fast do you drive?”

“No worries. You won’t be needing it tonight.” But he did take a moment to show her how to correctly fasten it.

Besides the rumble of the engine as he started it up and pulled out, silence stretched between them, the lights illuminating the dash chasing the darkness away. And for a time, she was content in his presence, but as the distance to her apartment got shorter—which it wasn’t very far in the first place—she was tempted to say something, anything, if it meant he could stay around a little while longer.

But he seemed to read her mind, and instead of pulling over, he kept on down the street, then asked, “When you’d quit the diner?”

“Six months after.” After you left the last time…but she didn’t bother to voice that thought. “I didn’t quit until after I had the pub open and running. You helped a lot with that. Th—”

“Don’t thank me,” he cut her off.

“Why not?”

Most people said that and meant not to thank them because they were being modest, but he said it as though he genuinely didn’t deserve her thanks.

But he didn’t seem like he was actually going to answer.

“And I guess you’re not here to get that money back?”

The look he sent was answer enough.

“So what do you do?” She had asked that once before, but wondered if something had changed for him, and maybe he was back in the city because of a new job.

He was quiet for a spell, and she wondered whether he was already done planning to answer her question until his mouth opened.

“Independent contractor.”