Read Online When Night Falls by Jenna Mills - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenna Mills
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caging her in. “You’re the detective. You tell me.”
She met his gaze, didn’t shrink or cower like most people would. Power and games were nothing new to her. She’d been raised with them, knew how to recognize and use them herself. What she didn’t understand was the disappointment cutting through her.
Just because his touch was surprisingly gentle, just because he’d forfeited his chance to go after Braxton in favor of helping her, she couldn’t let herself start thinking the man was something other than what he was. Driven, isolated, dangerous. His ministrations to her had nothing to do with the woman she was and everything to do with the fact she was his best chance of bringing his daughter home.
Thinking anything else only invited trouble.
“That’s right. William. I am the detective. It’s my job to find your daughter. You need to let me do it, too, not stir up trouble on your own.”
“Looking for leads is hardly stirring up trouble.”
“But confronting Adam Braxton is.” She pushed the hair from her face. “I know you’re worried, but you have to trust me. I see cases like this all the time. Statistics say in all likelihood, Emily will come back on her own.”
“Statistics?” he growled, and she almost felt remorse. “You think Emily’s disappearance is just a ploy? Her way of teaching me a lesson?”
“Teenage years are a scary time. She could be confused, trying to sort some things out.”
“You don’t know my daughter,” he barked. “Just because you went to extremes to get your daddy’s attention doesn’t mean my daughter has done the same.”
Everything inside her went very still. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. Extremes.” He skimmed his finger along the tender corner of her mouth. “Just because the almighty Wallace Clark didn’t care, didn’t notice, doesn’t mean I don’t.”
She stepped back from his touch, but the cold brick wall of the nightclub halted her retreat. She couldn’t move without touching Armstrong, couldn’t breathe without drawing in the scent of sandalwood and smoke.
She lifted her chin. “My father was a good man.”
His finger moved against her lips, and for a moment regret flashed in his gaze. Then it vanished. “But being a good man doesn’t equal being a good father, does it? Was the sainted Wallace Clark both, or is that why his only daughter felt the need to live on the streets for over three months?”
The point-blank question almost knocked her flat. In the space of a heartbeat an unwanted chill replaced the heat of Armstrong’s nearness. Deep inside, she started to shake. He couldn’t know. No one did.
She glanced around, realized he had her completely caged in. She had no choice but to meet his gaze, where the light of a predator glittered in his dangerously dark eyes.
Her heart rate kicked into high gear. William Armstrong was renowned for his ruthlessness; when he felt threatened, he attacked. But she hadn’t expected him to turn on her.
She should have.
“Just what is it you think you know?”
“Everything, Jessica. I know everything.”
----
Chapter 5
« ^ »
H e saw her eyes widen then blink in denial, the blood drain from her face. Shock, he knew. That cloudy moment when the body shut down while the mind struggled to comprehend. He wanted to take satisfaction in the intensity of her reaction, but found splinters of remorse instead.
Despite what everyone believed about him, William Armstrong wasn’t a man to terrorize a woman.
He knew he should back away, back off, but couldn’t bring himself to move. Not his body, not the fingers at the corner of her swollen mouth. The cool flesh was already turning a nasty shade of purple.
He hated seeing perfection marred.
The dazed detective blinked at him. “What did you say?”
He ignored the way the question puffed out in a breathy cloud of vapor. Even more, he ignored the sudden urge to draw her into his arms and stop the shaking she was trying so valiantly
She met his gaze, didn’t shrink or cower like most people would. Power and games were nothing new to her. She’d been raised with them, knew how to recognize and use them herself. What she didn’t understand was the disappointment cutting through her.
Just because his touch was surprisingly gentle, just because he’d forfeited his chance to go after Braxton in favor of helping her, she couldn’t let herself start thinking the man was something other than what he was. Driven, isolated, dangerous. His ministrations to her had nothing to do with the woman she was and everything to do with the fact she was his best chance of bringing his daughter home.
Thinking anything else only invited trouble.
“That’s right. William. I am the detective. It’s my job to find your daughter. You need to let me do it, too, not stir up trouble on your own.”
“Looking for leads is hardly stirring up trouble.”
“But confronting Adam Braxton is.” She pushed the hair from her face. “I know you’re worried, but you have to trust me. I see cases like this all the time. Statistics say in all likelihood, Emily will come back on her own.”
“Statistics?” he growled, and she almost felt remorse. “You think Emily’s disappearance is just a ploy? Her way of teaching me a lesson?”
“Teenage years are a scary time. She could be confused, trying to sort some things out.”
“You don’t know my daughter,” he barked. “Just because you went to extremes to get your daddy’s attention doesn’t mean my daughter has done the same.”
Everything inside her went very still. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. Extremes.” He skimmed his finger along the tender corner of her mouth. “Just because the almighty Wallace Clark didn’t care, didn’t notice, doesn’t mean I don’t.”
She stepped back from his touch, but the cold brick wall of the nightclub halted her retreat. She couldn’t move without touching Armstrong, couldn’t breathe without drawing in the scent of sandalwood and smoke.
She lifted her chin. “My father was a good man.”
His finger moved against her lips, and for a moment regret flashed in his gaze. Then it vanished. “But being a good man doesn’t equal being a good father, does it? Was the sainted Wallace Clark both, or is that why his only daughter felt the need to live on the streets for over three months?”
The point-blank question almost knocked her flat. In the space of a heartbeat an unwanted chill replaced the heat of Armstrong’s nearness. Deep inside, she started to shake. He couldn’t know. No one did.
She glanced around, realized he had her completely caged in. She had no choice but to meet his gaze, where the light of a predator glittered in his dangerously dark eyes.
Her heart rate kicked into high gear. William Armstrong was renowned for his ruthlessness; when he felt threatened, he attacked. But she hadn’t expected him to turn on her.
She should have.
“Just what is it you think you know?”
“Everything, Jessica. I know everything.”
----
Chapter 5
« ^ »
H e saw her eyes widen then blink in denial, the blood drain from her face. Shock, he knew. That cloudy moment when the body shut down while the mind struggled to comprehend. He wanted to take satisfaction in the intensity of her reaction, but found splinters of remorse instead.
Despite what everyone believed about him, William Armstrong wasn’t a man to terrorize a woman.
He knew he should back away, back off, but couldn’t bring himself to move. Not his body, not the fingers at the corner of her swollen mouth. The cool flesh was already turning a nasty shade of purple.
He hated seeing perfection marred.
The dazed detective blinked at him. “What did you say?”
He ignored the way the question puffed out in a breathy cloud of vapor. Even more, he ignored the sudden urge to draw her into his arms and stop the shaking she was trying so valiantly
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