Hotter Than Hell

andridge is coming with us," he says in a deep v

se he's still got the bat. The buckets of sweat dripping off Harry's face are telling and there's a good cha

nd there's ten grand in it for you." He takes another step in my direction. I

teps closer, his gun turns fully to Harry. "Moon

now who Moon is. If you're a drug dealer, hooker, illegal gambler, or a cop you know who Moon is. Harry is in

es jump around the garage most likely looking for

and clangs against the cement. Harry inches closer. Now my canister turns toward the men. Thug One give

l I have. "I have no intention of allowing Mr. Dandridge to become part of

pacifying manner. "Moon wants a face-to-face with Dandridge to talk about a personal matter." His lips scrunch tog

ve him. "Then

d toward me and his other hand still aiming a gun

y place. The dumbest thing I've done since acquiring my PI license is pulling pepper spray on Dandridge. I blink rapidly so I can see through a drop of sweat that's jus

id bitch," and tackles me. I go down and my

ld goes

I can hear the soft whir of a ceiling fan while the cool air cascades over me. My head actually thumps to the

and comfortable. The ceiling fan in my bedroom twirls with a loud, steady hum

as I look around. I give a small scream when I see a man sitting in a large chair in the shadowed corner of the room. He's watching me. My head objects to the scream, so I slam my jaw shut,

still

he's tall because I can't see the back of the chair behind the top of his shoulders and head. His legs

s smooth whiskey v

are you and where am I?" A sudden ach

s hand slides beneath the pillow under my head and he helps me sit up slightly. The cool rim

d then have two pills slipped between my lips. There's this strange jolt of pleasure at his touch. It throws me off balance, more than a blow to the head has, and like an idiot, I swallow. I have n

s and sit beside me. The sheet covering me stops just below my breasts, and his movement p

w voice that doesn't dis

pting to put together. He moves a section of my hair off my cheek. His eyes follow the mo

in cells. Or, at least that's the story I'm feeding myself. I've seen countless pictures of him. He's usually escorting some woman to a ritzy fund-raising event, thoug

lamp beside the bed. It feels like lightning meeting a body of water. The sizzling current skims across my flesh. When I glance up, I see he's focused on our hands too. Even without the light, my white skin is offset by his darkness. I wonder if he felt the same jolt I did. T

nd dangerous. Every