Читать книгу His Texas Touch - AlTonya Washington - Страница 10

Prologue

Houston, Texas—One Week Ago…

Samson Melendez silenced his truck’s soft engine and bumped one fist against the black leather braiding that protected the steering wheel. He debated. Go home, Sam. Just as his voice of reason sounded, another reminded him that he was a fool to pass on the chance to be alone with her—even if the reason was for something other than what he most wanted from her.

Rolling his eyes then, Sam made his choice. Hell, he rarely listened to his voice of reason anyway. Why pick now to start? he thought. Leaving the sleek Dodge Ram parked at an angle spanning two spaces, he headed toward the high-rise Avra Ross called home.

Avra had arrived at her condo only a few minutes earlier. She hadn’t even stepped past the threshold, but stood leaning against the open doorway. Deep in thought, she scraped a glossy, round thumbnail across her chin. She was still doing that when the elevator opened to her private floor.

Samson stepped out into the hallway and saw her there. A lone, heated curse settled to his tongue but made no sound. At that point he knew his earlier concerns from the evening were well-founded. Something was up. The only question now was whether he could get her to tell him what was going on.

Not likely, he thought with a blank look. Chances were he’d have to piss her off and bully it out of her—a thing he dreaded since she thought that was all he was good for. Still, he’d come to know her well since they’d entered each other’s lives two years prior, when they began working on advertising for Machine Melendez in the Ross Review.

Given that fact, the last thing he wanted to waste time on was discussion about the threat to his family and, quite possibly, her own. There was, in fact, only one thing he wanted to spend his time on. His smirk curved a perfectly sculpted mouth provocatively set above a strong, square, dimpled chin. The midnight gaze narrowed wickedly even as he schooled himself. It would be easier to coax her into telling him whatever it was she suspected than getting her to give in to another, more preferable way of spending their time. Maintaining his stance near the elevator, Sam cleared his throat softly at first and then a tad more loudly when she didn’t register his presence.

A hard knock in the distance jerked Avra out of her thoughts. She turned around to find Sam Melendez standing just down from her door.

“Damn, you…scared me to death,” she muttered, lashes fluttering in mild relief. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Told you I was following you from the club,” he said, sounding matter-of-fact while pushing his broad frame from the wall.

“Oh.” She left him with the simple reply and then walked on into the condo.

“You want to tell me what the devil is wrong with you?” He slammed the door, grimacing then at her thoroughly dazed demeanor.

The harsh sound of the closing door was another effective method of jarring Avra from her heavy thoughts. It did nothing to improve her attitude toward Sam’s presence in her house, unfortunately.

“Why the hell are you so interested?”

Her snappish tone did nothing to dissuade him. One wide shoulder rose in a barely there shrug beneath the knit sandstone shirt that complemented his copper skin. “When you get quiet, I get suspicious.”

“Well, don’t you worry, Sam. You won’t hear a peep out of me over the campaign.”

“Hell, Avra, you know I’m not here for that.”

“Then what are you here for, Sam?”

His lips parted again on the verge of response. Admirably, he caught himself before telling her the truth.

“What happened tonight—Arroyo dead after going after my sister. Do you think it’s over?”

Her almond-shaped brown eyes narrowing, Avra regarded the man filling her living room with a mix of curiosity and something else unidentifiable. “No,” she admitted simply. Turning to face him more fully, she folded her arms across the front of the gold-tone backless silk number she’d worn for the engagement party.

“I think Carson Arroyo Holloway was a scapegoat,” she said, referring to John Holloway’s son. John Holloway was a former Melendez employee who died under suspicious circumstances.

“Why?” Sam breathed, selecting that moment to move farther into the room.

Her gaze wavered. “Something that his mother said to me,” she muttered and then shook her head. “It’s crazy anyway—the woman was probably just trying to get me out of her house.”

“Humph. I can’t imagine why…”

Avra pursed her lips for a few seconds. “And I wish you’d do the same.” Gathering the chic folds of her dress, she made a move for the door.

“Hey?” Sam’s voice was hushed then. He caught her arm, covered by the tight sleeve of the frock that hugged her willowy form. “I’m sorry,” he said, dropping her arm after giving it a slight squeeze. “Talk to me, please.”

For Avra just then, talking or even breathing, for that matter, was impossible. Subtly, she massaged her arm, hoping that he hadn’t noticed how his touch had affected her.

Sam kept all emotion out of his expression. Of course he had noticed her reaction.

Coolly, Avra left his side.

“I really need for you to tell me what you think about this. Will you do that?” His very deep voice was most coaxing in its softness.

Silently, Avra admitted that she needed the venting outlet. “When Khouri made the connections between Carson Arroyo and John Holloway, I went to see Holloway’s widow, Vita Arroyo. She told me to check Wade’s notes.” Hugging herself, Avra walked the room. “According to her, they contained information—truths absent from his final story on her husband’s death.”

Sam walked the room as well, thinking. “Did you find anything?”

“Yeah.” Avra’s words carried on a light laugh. “I’ve been through the stuff four times already. Only problem is, none of it makes sense.”

“You sure you’ve got it all? All of his notes?”

“Positive.” She slapped her hands to her sides. “Wade used to joke that he spent more time at the office than at home. He tended to keep his most important stuff at Ross. Besides, we’d have heard about it if the police found something after Wade…died.”

Regardless, Sam made a mental note to ask Chief of Detectives Bradley Crest to confirm that. He studied Avra more closely then. She looked dead on her feet, but he knew she’d admit to no weakness—not in his presence anyway.

“Maybe that’s all there is.” He took the other side of the argument then. “Maybe the whole thing really does end with Arroyo.”

Avra was already shaking her head in disagreement.

“Why the hell not?” Sam harbored the same dismal prediction as Avra but wanted to hear her thoughts.

“Carson went to Setha not just because she was your dad’s prize but because she was listening to him. This was about his father’s pride and his mother’s dignity. That’s what he told her.” Again, Avra began to nudge her chin with her thumbnail. “He wanted her to know something so why didn’t he just tell her…?” She sighed the words almost to herself.

“Because he was an idiot?” Sam suggested.

Avra made a face, but she couldn’t completely dismiss the idea. “Dammit,” she groaned, dropping to the gray suede settee in the corner.

Sam watched her cover her face with her hands. The last thing he wanted was to leave but it was the only thing to do. They rarely went long without breaking into full argument. Their current chat had already lasted fifteen minutes—well beyond the limit.

Avra raised her head when she heard him move. “You’re leaving?” She pressed her lips together, instantly regretting the question.

“You’re beat.” He eased a hand into a trouser pocket. “It’s been a long night. You should be goin’ to bed anyway.”

Avra straightened, holding her hands clasped primly in her lap. “I’m surprised you’re not making a move or comment about joining me there.”

Go, Sam, he silently urged himself but couldn’t resist the opportunity to spar with her just a little longer. “Don’t worry.” He walked over to lean against the settee where she relaxed. “You’ll have me there,” he promised.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a jackass.”

“And you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.” He could’ve laughed when stunned amazement crossed her coffee-brown face. Never had he complimented her so seriously without the teasing element that usually accompanied his words. Slowly, he leaned in, caressing her oval face with nothing more than the strength of his pitch stare.

“I’d like very much to have you in my bed…” He cast a cool, meaningful look over the chair she occupied. “Or anywhere else.”

She swallowed. Her wide eyes were riveted on his alluring face. “Would you leave me alone, then?”

Rising to his towering height, he offered a casual shrug. “Depends on how good you are.”

Don’t hit him, she told herself and almost broke the skin in her palms when she drew fists.

“Night, Av.” He brushed his knuckles across her jaw and then walked out the door.