Sam turned away and hoped for a clearer head after the meds kicked in, and his body could rest without Ms. Orla Karlsen invading his mind.
Chapter Fourteen
Orla wantedto punch something but knew that most of the frustration and guilt she was feeling was solely her fault. She S knew how to handle strong emotions when investigating a story, but this time was different. This situation had so many layers, so many angles, it was almost overwhelming and had fast become personal.
The vigilante had been right; she’d seen him as a story rather than a person. Shutting down Phantom had been an honorable mission and digging into the vigilante an irrepressible fascination with the added benefit of solidifying her reputation in Chicago.
Not only that, if she was being honest with herself, she felt an undeniable attraction toward the masked man, and it messed with her brain and body.
She’d always been thorough and professional throughout her career, and never lost sight of the goal or indulged in sex with a potential story. She’d now done both in this case.
What was wrong with her?
When she rose, her body screamed in pain from being stationary too long and a lack of rest. Rest was the smart thing to do, but she couldn’t calm her thoughts. Pacing the concrete area, Orla rolled her shoulders and stretched, easing the physical pain, but not the buzzing thoughts inside her skull.
What did she want? When in doubt, she reminded herself where she was going and what her goals were.
Stopping Phantom was the main one. And the vigilante? Two days ago, she would’ve seen him as the story of her life. Of her entire career. Now? Her gaze went to the closed door of the room where he rested. She increasingly saw him as a man and less as a potential article.
There were dedication and selflessness in him, blended with violence and ruthlessness. He wasn’t a wild card; on the contrary, he noticed possibilities, sought alliances. The vigilante was a strategist who would go to great lengths to fulfill his mission, exactly like her.
Could she fault him for wanting to protect his identity and that of the people working with him? He took care of the city in his own way, but his goal was the same as hers.
The more she paced, the more her feet brought her toward the door. One part of the equation was how her body reacted to him whenever he was nearby. He didn’t have to touch her to make her aware of the lust heating her body like fireworks.
In a few days, her desire to unmask Chicago’s vigilante had turned into a desire for the man behind the mask. The unexpected benefit was having a partner as she worked. Beyond the high of the chase and her lust for him, Orla realized it was that partnership she craved, and she wanted more of that feeling.
Her hand hovered over the door handle, but she stopped herself. The vigilante didn’t trust her, not yet. An idea popped into her head and she found what she was searching for in the bathroom- a long piece of cloth.
Standing in front of the door again, she used the rag as a makeshift blindfold and made sure her vision was completely blocked regardless of how hard she shook her head.
With a bracing breath, she knocked on the door. Through the silence, she heard a faint rustling noise coming from inside and jumped at the sound of the door being flung open.
The silence that followed was unsettling, and Orla wondered if she hadn’t imagined everything. “Are you there?”
“What the hell are you doing?”
The voice was gruff and sleepy, and for the first time, the modulator didn’t interfere with the vigilante’s voice. She was certain he had put his mask on before opening the door but hadn’t bothered with the device.
“I... I couldn’t sleep and wanted to apologize. And was worried you’d be taken off guard and forget to put your mask on. I didn’t want you at a disadvantage.”
Silence followed, and Orla didn’t know what to do so she kept talking. “I wanted to know everything about you. You have to admit, there aren’t many vigilantes around, ready to face the worst and darkest of Chicago on his own. And I didn’t know if you were linked to Phantom or if you were investigating it as well. I thought the coincidence was too good to pass up, solving two cases in one by ending the Phantom’s spread and uncovering the vigilante.”
Orla swallowed; her throat suddenly parched from pouring her heart out in front of a near stranger. “But things changed, and so did my perspective. I’m curious, but I also know there are things that shouldn’t come to light. And maybe you’re one of them. You’re doing some good here, and there isn’t enough being done to turn it down. I’m determined to see this through though, to shut Phantom out of our city and make sure everyone linked to it is taken care of, one way or another. I know we think alike. I promise I won’t ask you who you are or try to find out. Once this investigation is wrapped, I won’t investigate you anymore. You have my word.”
Relieved, Orla was about to turn away but stopped herself. “Also, when I had sex with you in the garage, I wasn’t trying to manipulate you in any way. I’ve never used sex as a weapon or to manipulate someone. I was attracted to you. Still am. That wasn’t fake.” She blushed but held her ground. “I just wanted to make that clear. I’ll let you go back to sleep.”
The last words were rushed out, filling the silence, and as it stretched, she knew the conversation was over.
Or maybe not.
As she retreated, a hand fisted her hair at the back of her skull and pulled her forward before a mouth crashed against hers.
If she could only use one word to define this connection, it would be hunger. Strong arms locked her in his embrace by bringing her flush against a muscled naked body. She yielded at the contact and opened her mouth to him, allowing his tongue to dance with hers. Orla was drowning in him, his scent and taste, and as he played and nipped at her lips, her hips began to sway against him. She could feel his cock hardening from the friction, and that simple thought had her squeezing her thighs together. Her arms came around his shoulders, and for the first time, she indulged in savoring every inch of him with her fingertips.
Her palms detailed all she could, enjoying the hot skin and rippling muscles that reacted to her touch. If she couldn’t use her eyes, her hands could map how he looked for her feverish mind.
Orla gasped when he pulled her roughly forward, twirling her in his arms before pushing her to the bed. Disorientation almost made her queasy, but when the mattress gave, and a very male body tore at her clothes, she was quickly brought back to more interesting matters.
