Marie Harte: Killer Thoughts

“You seem to have all the answers.” Ian’s soft voice warned he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“Not at all. I think I found where Kerr has been hiding, but I’m not sure what he plans to do to draw me near. I can’t tell you why Harry nearly killed me, when he’d been as close to me as my own family. And I don’t know if I can count on the man I’d like to bring in to help us end this.”

“ Us? Now there’s an us ?”

Curiously, Ian didn’t sound panicked. “Us, as in, you’re helping me, and I just fucked you. So yes, us .”

“So romantic, Owen.” Ian paused a moment. “Okay, we’ll get back to Kerr. But I have to know something. You’ve dated women, beautiful, rich, successful women. Were they beards or what?”

Trust Ian to be more concerned with Owen’s love life than the possible danger facing them. “No, they weren’t covering for me. I genuinely like women and men. I’m bisexual.”

“Ah. That answers a lot of questions.”

Ian looked down at him, his deep blue eyes so serious. So amazingly beautiful, framed by thick lashes and set in a face made to be worshipped. It always stopped Owen’s train of thought when he spied Ian, so that he had to work to appear unaffected when what he really wanted to do was lick his thief from tip to toe.

“But I sense you have more.” Questions.

Ian nodded. “Linda Cavendish. She tried to shoot you. She would have, except she coincidentally dropped dead of a heart attack before she could pull the trigger. I couldn’t see what happened, since I was inside the closet at the time.”

“Spying on me.”

Ian blinked. “Ah, kind of. But I know she wouldn’t have missed you from that close a distance. By all rights, you should be dead, Owen. We both know it. So what really happened with Linda? And don’t think for a second I’ll buy an ‘act of God’ excuse. If she had a heart attack all on her own, I’m Jack’s best friend.”

Owen had known this was coming. But he didn’t have an answer for his new lover, not yet, maybe not ever. His psychic ability remained a secret from everyone but a select few. His old spotter, Caleb Dalton, knew. Then there was Owen’s friend and a man whose projects he often funded, Admiral Geoffrey London. And Heather, of course. They’d discussed his talent years ago, right after he’d killed to avenge their father. He’d wanted her to know. They’d never spoken about it, but he’d understood she needed closure the same way he had. Which made him wonder if she’d told Jack about him. He didn’t think so. Even as close as Heather and Jack seemed to be, his sister would never reveal his gift without asking first.

Sad that he could only trust Heather with his closely kept secrets. But at least he’d never told Harry what he could really do. He’d learned his lesson all too well when it came to relying on others. Even Tim, who’d taken a bullet and saved Owen’s life, could someday turn if Owen wasn’t careful to keep an eye on him.

Money did strange things to people, which was one of the reasons Owen liked Ian so much. The mouthy thief didn’t seem to care how much money Owen had. Oh, Owen had no doubt Ian would steal him blind if he let him. Ian liked the finer things in life, and he scrapped to get them. But he made no bones about his profession, and he’d never pretended to be anything he wasn’t—not to Owen at least. He was one of the few people not afraid to tell Owen the truth about things. Several times he’d even told Owen to kiss off when Owen pushed too hard, and to hell with Owen’s feelings.

Owen stared up into Ian’s frown and smiled. Ian blinked at him, seeming confused. Owen pulled his face down for a kiss. He didn’t let Ian turn it into something carnal. Instead, Owen played, exploring the hard yet soft facets of Ian’s mouth. Kissing the man with an emotion he didn’t often give others, Owen let himself fall under Ian’s spell for a little while. Pretending Ian felt the same affection, at least, until Owen could seduce him into feeling it.

IAN KISSED OWEN back, stunned at the depth of his feelings. This was supposed to have been a casual fuck. Fast and hard, and then he’d know exactly what it felt like to bottom for Owen Stallbridge. Except Owen’s kiss melted his resolve to keep his emotional distance. And then after kissing Ian for what felt like forever, bringing his cock back to life, Owen ended it, rolled them both over, and cuddled next to him.

Ian lay there, baffled, in lust, and strangely more attracted to Owen because he couldn’t figure the man out.

Owen sighed and pulled back. He slapped Ian on the ass.

“Ow.” Ian glared over his shoulder at him.

“I’m going to shower. You can join me if you like. Then we’re getting back to work. I’ll explain about Kerr. Now that I have him in my sights, it’s time to take him down.”

Owen left the bed, uncaring of his nudity—and why should he care, with a body like that?—and ambled to the bathroom. He disappeared inside, and soon the shower could be heard.

Ian rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling.

What the hell?

For months he’d watched and studied the man he considered his new mark. One way or the other, Ian planned on capitalizing on Owen’s wealth. The man could clearly afford it, and Ian would consider it a bonus for work well done. Though he’d used illegal means to help Jack’s team get the information they needed to recover Owen’s property, no one seemed to mind. And hey, though Ian hadn’t been in on the actual recoveries, he’d played a vital role. Time to reap the reward, in his opinion. So he kept an eye on the best-looking man he’d ever seen—discounting every time Ian looked in the mirror, of course.

Owen was a player, a lot like Ian. Yet the man’s smooth polish and money cleared doors Ian could only dream about.

Stallbridge had a reputation as an excellent lover and often left his partners wanting more. A heartbreaker, which would have been a problem for Ian if he’d had a heart to break. Ian had been a thief for longer than he cared to remember. He didn’t need emotion clouding his business sense.

Though he’d been ordered to work closely with Owen the last month, he’d welcomed the chance to study his prey up close. Except he wasn’t sure he liked what he’d seen. Owen seemed to be a pretty damn nice guy. He treated the people who worked for him like family.

Ian found it easy and even rewarding to rob from abusive, self-involved socialites. Even better, he liked taking from the cruel and depraved wealthy. Call him a snob, but Ian despised rich people. Having spent most of his childhood in shelters or homeless while his father worked his ass off to provide for them had given him a sour taste about money.

Owen had been born a rich kid, yet he didn’t act stuck-up or entitled, and that made Ian more than curious. Heather, his sister, was the same way. They must have had kick-ass parents, was all he could think. Because when the elder Stallbridges died, leaving Owen a rich man at seventeen, he could have gone crazy with the money. Instead, he’d buckled down, been responsible, and increased the family fortune.

Ian sighed. What the hell was he doing, thinking so hard about Owen? He had a job to do, period. Help Owen catch Kerr. In the process, scam on getting back into that vault, where he’d seen a few paintings he knew he could copy and resell for a tidy nest egg. After he finally had enough to feel good about his future, Ian would reconsider his present. Stay in Bend? Go? Retire at age thirty-one?

Nah, he’d be bored to death. But did he want to keep forging and possibly getting caught, forever looking over his shoulder?

“Ian,” Owen barked from the bathroom.