Page 43 of Seduced By the Billionaire
He wrapped his arms around her, cementing her body against his. “It must have been so hard to leave your mom behind,” he said into her hair. “I understand what it’s like to watch your mother held captive by a monster.”
The sincerity in his tone finally broke her, her heart sharp and brittle, as if it might shatter. She needed him to understand—needed someone to understand, just this once. Before she started this bullshit game all over again.
“Do you have a safe place I can stay tonight?” she asked.
The thought of letting him go home alone made her stomach turn. She’d be no match for Daniel herself, but she could keep an eye out. Scream in time for Ronan to pull his gun. Wishful thinking, surely, but it calmed the panic in her chest.
He swallowed hard, took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded.
Juliette pushed herself to standing, gooseflesh prickling along her suddenly chilly spine. “I have to go get my money. I’ll meet you back here.”
His eyes widened. “You don’t have to talk to Waylon. I’ll cover what he owes you.”
She shook her head. She would not take his charity. It felt too much like pity, and she needed no further blows to her self-esteem—thank you very fucking much.
But instead of telling him that, she said, “How do you have so much money? Are you a dirty cop, or what?”
“No, just an ordinary detective.” He chuckled, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, one eyebrow cocked. “Do you want me to be dirty?”
The growl simmered deep in her core. Heat swarmed her insides.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Chapter 20
Ronan
“I thought your house blew up,” she said as he maneuvered the car up the long driveway toward the garage.
“Just the front door.” It was hard to keep his voice steady.
He hadn’t intended to be turned-on in that club, but just seeing her, feeling the heat between her legs… he’d lost control.
He’d calmed a bit after climbing into the car, mostly because Jenny seemed more subdued. Had she decided his behavior was unacceptable? Did she regret her own actions? Maybe she regretted telling him what she had or getting into his car at all. But he hoped not. Even now, the smell of her sweat in his sinuses, the memory of her gyrating in his lap, the touch of her lips on his ear, Jesus?—
“It doesn’t look blown up.” She squinted through the windshield.
Think about baseball. Basketball. Dead bodies in gutters. But his fingertips were itching with the urge to grab her, to yank her against him, to slide into her so deeply that she forgot what she was afraid of.
He swallowed hard. “Different house.”
Her current demeanor did not suggest she was in a similar state of mind. Dancing in the club had been a necessity, a response to Waylon’s glare—a job. This was reality. And with all she’d been through, he didn’t want to make the first move. He didn’t want to scare her off—she was already terrified enough.
“You have two houses?”
He had seven, half of them currently being used as long-term sanctuaries for women like Shonda, whose bruises had told him all he needed to know. Ronan shifted the car into park.
“It’s an investment property.”
Jenny frowned.
Huh. He’d initially believed the dirty cop statement was a joke, but now he wasn’t so sure. Did she really think he was on the take? Why that and not family money or the lottery? Then again, nothing said “dirty cop” like skulking around a low-rent strip club.
He expected more questions, was ready to clarify, but Jenny nodded and popped the door, heading for the porch as if that was all the explanation she needed. He let her lead the way while he scanned the surrounding area, raising his eyes to the camera situated beneath the eaves.
This home, like all the others, was equipped with top-notch security and reinforced with steel, something the perp had probably guessed by now since Ronan was still alive. The bomb squad had said the explosives should have killed him—would have without those reinforcements—which meant two things. One, he owed Charles his life. And two, the explosion hadn’t been a warning or a distraction—it had been a sincere attempt to get rid of him.
The killer would almost certainly try again. Unless Ronan got to him first.
