Page 6 of Tangled
He opened the minibar and pulled out a tequila for her and a bourbon for him. “Straight or on the rocks?”
“Rocks, please,” she answered, sinking onto the overstuffed sofa.
He handed her a tumbler, then took a seat on the opposite end. The headache he’d been able to forget for the past thirty minutes came roaring back, and he pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve the pressure.
“Are you okay?” Magi asked.
He inhaled, willing the throbbing pain away, then looked up. “I will be. Me and any sort of medication stronger than ibuprofen don’t really get along. I took an over-the-counter sleeping pill on the flight, failed to sleep, and now feel like a twenty-one-year-old the morning after their birthday regretting the celebration.”
She stared at him, then set her drink down and rose. Crossing the room, she grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and brought it back to him. Taking it from her hand, he watched as she dug into her purse, then pulled out a bottle of Advil.
“Here, take these,” she said, shaking three out. “Then turn around and I’ll rub your head.”
His brows shot up at that suggestion even as he took the tablets and downed them. The offer seemed awfully personal for someone who wouldn’t even give him her name.
She gave him a lopsided smile. “I know a thing or two about migraines. You have my sympathies.”
He eyed her as she took a seat, then set a pillow in her lap. She motioned with her hand for him to turn around and lie down. He considered his options, then realized that her offer wasn’t even close to the weirdest thing that had happened that night. Setting his drink down, he shifted on the couch and settled his head on the pillow.
The second her cool hands touched his temples, he was a goner. He never wanted this moment to end. She smelled of amber and orange, and her fingers, moving over his head, sinking into his hair, and massaging his scalp, were nothing short of magic.
“After what happened tonight, it doesn’t seem like I should be enjoying this so much,” he murmured. “Why didn’t you tell the police your name?”
He wasn’t sure she’d answer, and at this point, with her hands buried in his hair, he wasn’t sure he cared. But to his surprise, she did.
“I don’t want to get on anyone’s radar, especially not of any of those men,” she said. “If I’d given my name, it would have been captured in the recording of the call. I know you may want to stand witness, and I won’t ask you not to, but I’d wait to see if there’s a police report before you contact them. If there is, and you want to come forward, you can claim to be the boyfriend.”
Her words settled into his sleep-deprived brain, and he opened one eye. “You say that like you don’t think there will be a report.”
She rolled her lips, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t. Let’s just leave it at that.”
He studied her with his one eye, then let it close again as she rubbed his temples. “Who are they?”
“Again, I don’t know. Not their names, anyway. The blond one was the one I was looking for. He works for someone that I want to know more about.”
“Why?”
A long pause followed his question. Then she sighed. “A friend of mine died recently. It was ruled an accidental overdose, but I’m not convinced it was accidental. The man that the blond works for was her supplier.”
“And what happens when you know more?” He knew next to nothing about the drug world, but he couldn’t see one vigilante woman bringing down a dealer big enough to have killers on his payroll. If he’d been some two-bit corner dealer, he could imagine it. But a man who had both the means and need to hire people, like the blond and his sidekick, spoke of power. The kind of man who’d have an organization behind him.
The ice clinked in her glass as she took a sip. When her fingers returned to his forehead, they were cooler and felt blessedly perfect. “I don’t know,” she said. “I know what I want. I want to figure out if her death was accidental or something more. And if it was more, I want the person responsible for it to pay. But beyond that, I’m kind of winging it.”
At the wry humor in her voice, he opened his eyes and stared at her. “Seems a kind of dangerous thing to wing.”
She gave him another lopsided smile. “I’m drinking in a hotel room with a man I just met, whose name I don’t know, and with whom I witnessed a murder. I think we’ve established thatwinging itmight be my MO.”
“Throw in the chemistry between us and I’d wager it’s not onlywinging itthat you like. I think you might even likethings a little turbulent.” He’d taken a gamble on putting their attraction out there. He shouldn’t be thinking about such things given what they’d just been through. But adrenaline still coursed through his blood, and the feel of her hands on his body had his attention turning to much more primal things. He’d heard sex and violence could go hand in hand. Now, for good or for bad, he had proof of that.
She stared down at him, her black curls creating a curtain around them. He held her gaze, his blood rushing in anticipation.
“You were in Paris. It’s like eight in the morning there, and you’ve been up all night,” she said.
A smile tugged at his lips. He was more than ready for whatever she might be willing to offer him. “I can assure you, that’s not a problem,” he said, with a pointed look at the bulge behind the zipper of his jeans.
Her attention lingered there. She licked her lips, and his body jerked at the unintended seduction.
“It’s entirely your call,” Brad said, wanting to be very clear on the subject.
