Free Mr. Real (Code of Shadows #1) by Carolyn Crane Page B

don’t want you to drink it.”
    He pressed his lips into a plump bow, not quite a smile, and regarded her silently.
    Oh, this was wrong. Karen was going to kill her. She was supposed to let him complete his lifecycle, but she couldn’t.
    He tilted his head, as he liked to do. “But I so fancied a spot of Denali.” He drew two fingers along a puddle of the amber liqueur on the counter. “What a dreadful waste.”
    Would he lick his fingers? Even a drop could kill him!
    She grabbed his hand and sucked his two Denali-covered fingers into her mouth, then pulled them out. Like his fingers were a popsicle or something. “The lady said no Denali. “
    He straightened, looking stunned for once. Of course, she was being a total freak.
    “Look, I’m the hostess here,” she explained. “It’s important to me that you have the best possible time, okay? You know what I mean?”
    A new light appeared in his blue eyes. “I believe I do.” He regarded her warmly, as though he’d seen something new and good in her. She recognized the look then…it was amazement, gratitude. It nourished something deep inside her. “Thank you,” he said.
    She didn’t dare speak. Men usually only looked at her like that when she was about to have sex with them.
    He took his hand back and drew a finger along her cheek, watching her with intensity. “We should take care of this before your dog comes in.”
    “Definitely.” She moved toward the broom closet, but he stopped her.
    “Please.” He snaked his hands around her, hoisted her onto the counter. “It’s the least I can do.”
    “But you don’t know where—”
    “Tut—” He caged her with his hands. “I insist.”
    He found the broom closet on his first try, took out the sponge mop and dustpan, and got up all the glass, then swabbed up every drop of the sticky liquid, rinsing the mop in the sink periodically. He was so dashing, so full of easy masculinity, working away like he was cleaning a crime scene, being so kind and helpful. And grateful.
    Did he understand on some level what she’d done? Did it mean that he wanted to live? And if so, how could she let him just dissolve?
    When everything was put away, he came to her with a casual smile.
    “You know you’re welcome to stay here,” she declared. “Just don’t drink the Denali, okay?”
    Again that warm sparkle. “Thank you.”
    “I have more than enough space. You’ll even have your own room. Carte blanche on everything. Seriously, Sir Kendall. Nick. I’d enjoy it.”
    “Oh, I would see to that.”
    She smiled happily.

CHAPTER SEVEN
       
    Paul took over the driving just before they hit Colorado, and Tonio relaxed in the passenger seat, feet clomped up onto the dash.
    Paul appreciated the younger man’s silence on the matter of Sir Kendall. He wished he could explain it to him, but it was all so twisted and dark. Truth be told, Paul felt ashamed. He knew intellectually that what happened to him as a kid wasn’t his fault, but he still felt ashamed, like he’d caused it, like the violence was just a natural response people had to something deeply wrong with him.
    Anyway, he was an adult now. People put all sorts of horrible things behind them—why couldn’t he? And then, to pull out the Sir Kendall character for a commercial, of all things?
    He’d never told anybody, of course, though he’d come close to confiding in Master Veecha a few times. He so wished he had. He could’ve used the old man’s perspective.
    After the elderly Master’s death, Paul left the martial arts school where he’d taught and lived for so many years and moved to Los Angeles. He’d worked his way up through smaller organizations until he finally made it into the Ultimate Fighting League—a.k.a. the UFL—landing a spot in the famed Eagle’s Cove, nest of champions.
    It had been a decent life for a long time; he’d worked as a bartender at night, trained with the other Cove fighters during the day, and started landing