Lora Leigh - Only Pleasure

There was something that wasn’t clicking, he could feel it. He should have the answers, the reasons why, and they weren’t adding up in his mind.

Drew had never seemed psychotic, until recently. Of course, Kia could make a man crazy, Chase reminded himself.

As the line finally thinned and dwindled, she turned to him with a strained smile.

“If I don’t get a glass of wine, I may well collapse at your feet,” she told him.

“We can’t have that.” His arm went around her, his gaze taking in the violet and silver-threaded gown she wore.

She loved velvets, he was going to have to remember that. And she looked damned good in it. The gown made her look like a fairy princess.

Moving across the ballroom he guided her to the table Khalid, Ian, and Courtney had taken on the outer edge of the ballroom. Conversation hummed around them, glasses clinked, and laughter filled the room as the band played the soft strains of a Christmas tune.

“Poor Kia. Your feet must be killing you.” Courtney smiled as Chase held Kia’s chair out for her.

There was a hint of strain to Courtney’s eyes, though, as well as in Ian’s expression. And if Chase wasn’t mistaken, Khalid was at the edge of losing his temper.

With Khalid, it wasn’t always easy to tell. That thin scar at the side of his jaw was always a dead giveaway, though. It went perfectly white with his fury. And it was almost snowy at the moment.

“My feet will take weeks to uncramp.” Kia sighed as Chase caught a passing waiter and relieved him of a glass of champagne before ordering Kia’s favorite wine and a whiskey for himself.

He set the champagne at her elbow.

“You’re an angel.” She smiled back at him mischievously as Ian and Courtney both made a sound of denial to that description.

He kissed her upturned lips quickly, then whispered in her ear, “I’ll remind you of that later, sweetheart.”

Her laughter was what he needed to hear. He didn’t sit down. He watched as Khalid rose from his chair instead and moved around the table.

“Could we speak for a moment?” Khalid asked, his lips thin as he glanced around the room.

Chase glanced around, then with a grimace bent to Kia. “I’ll be right back.” He glanced at Ian and received in response a nod that the other man would watch over her.

He and Khalid stepped back, too far from Kia to suit Chase, until they were against the wall in one of the few clear areas in the room.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Khalid shoved his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo trousers and frowned.

“Ian met with Drew this afternoon,” Khalid finally stated, his gaze moving over the ballroom before coming back to Chase. “He had information that may well concern you and Kia as well.”

This wasn’t about the attack on Kia. If it had been, Khalid or Ian would have contacted him. This was personal, and Chase had a pretty good idea what it was.

Khalid grimaced, his lips flattening again, obviously reluctant to give Chase the information.

“Does it have anything to do with the fact that you were Drew Stanton’s third that night?” Chase finally asked.

Khalid’s eyes flared with surprise. “You knew?”

Chase shrugged at the question. “You’re too protective of Kia, Khalid. You were either in love with her or eaten up with guilt. I know you too well, my friend. I knew it wasn’t love; that left guilt. It was easy to figure it out from there.”

Normally, Khalid’s lusts ran much darker and a bit rougher than what he had displayed with Kia. The other man had been too intent, had gone to abnormal lengths to make certain each touch, each kiss, each caress was nothing but pleasure, nothing but those strokes, those whispers that would build a woman’s confidence and her pleasure.

“And I’m still alive?” Khalid asked.

Chase grunted at that. Killing Khalid wouldn’t be that easy.

He had figured it out during that second ménage with Kia. But there was no anger. As Drew’s third that night, Khalid had made certain Kia wasn’t raped, that she had the precious time she needed to lock herself away from Drew. Then he had called her father to come for her.

“You saved her, Khalid,” he said finally, with a sigh. “It’s not your place to feel guilt over what happened that night. She got through it. She might not have if you hadn’t been there.”

Khalid nodded slowly, then said, “It seems my threats have lost their effectiveness. Drew is threatening to go before the review board of the club to have my membership placed under sanction. This, too, I thought you should be aware of, should you require me again. By sanctioning me, they will also be sanctioning any relationships I have formed within the club.” He looked over at Kia. “She is a beautiful woman, my friend. That part I would regret. The rest…” He shrugged again. “My life affords me the freedom and whatever pleasures I choose. However I choose them.”

Chase grinned at that. Arrogance wasn’t something Khalid lacked.

Then he frowned. Kia’s father had moved to the table and was holding his hand out to her. Timothy Rutherford wanted a dance with his daughter. Damn.

He watched as she was drawn to the dance floor. The female per-former was singing a lighthearted ballad, her clear, pretty voice bringing the couples to the dance floor. And it was filling up.

He didn’t like that because he kept losing sight of her and her father. He tracked their progress and felt that edge of danger biting at his neck again.

“You are in love with her, are you not?” Khalid asked, his voice faintly showing his amusement.

Chase took a second to glance at him ruefully. “Is it that easy to see?”

“Eh, only to one who knows you well, perhaps.” Khalid grinned. “But it appears I will win the pool this month. I predicted your fall before the end of the third week of December. The others were predicting much later.”

That damned club pool. That was Courtney’s fault, damn her. Somehow she managed to sneak into the club and write the bet down on the books every damned time it struck her fancy.

“Yes, it looks like you won,” Chase acknowledged. He had lost sight of Kia once more.

“There are many dancing,” Khalid said a second later when Chase couldn’t find her. “I’ve lost her as well.”

Chase was tensing to move when he finally saw Timothy Rutherford move along the opposite edge of the crowd. Kia was no longer with him.

“Find her,” he ordered Khalid, and they slipped between the couples moving on the dance floor.

Chase searched for her as he headed for her father’s position. He was talking with other couples.

“Timothy.” Chase stepped up to the small group. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Kia. I wanted a dance.”

Timothy turned back to him. “She’s on the dance floor.” He grinned. “You can’t keep her off it when she’s in the mood to dance.”

“I don’t see her.” Chase surveyed the crowd again. “Who did she go off with?”

“Harold Brockheim cut in on us,” Timothy told him. “Has always been fond of Kia. Even though she and Moriah weren’t exactly friends.”

Of course, Timothy had no idea exactly what had happened the day Moriah Brockheim died. But Chase had suspected for months that her father did. Annalee had warned Chase that Harold wasn’t accepting the explanation and had asked Chase point-blank if Chase had killed his daughter.

It clicked then. Slammed into his brain with the force of lightning striking into the ground. That was why it didn’t make sense, why none of it made sense. It wasn’t Drew who had targeted Kia. It was Brockheim.

He moved quickly away from the group, ignoring Timothy, and surged back into the crowd of dancers.