Читать книгу Sexy Silent Nights - Cara Summers - Страница 12

HE WALKED FOR OVER AN HOUR in an attempt to settle his rage. The wind blowing in from the Bay carried a fine, icy mist that stung his cheeks. In spite of the cold and the lateness of the hour, there were still some people walking along the Embarcadero, wandering to and from Fisherman’s Wharf.

Normally, he would have avoided the lights and the seasonal decorations, but tonight he would use them as reminders.

Of Elizabeth.

Of his loss.

Of his mission.

But in spite of the litany that he repeated in his mind, every time he thought of what had happened at Pleasures, his fury threatened to rise up like a tidal wave and consume him. At times, the red haze in front of his eyes nearly blinded him.

His plan, his perfect plan had been bungled! Even now, as he replayed the scene in his mind, the panic and anger bubbled up just as it had when he’d been parked down the street from the club.

He’d wanted to jump out of his car and scream.

But he’d controlled the urge. Even when he’d heard the gunshots, he hadn’t allowed the panic to take control. His first impulse had been to follow the van and confront his partner. But acting when he was still teetering on the brink of anger would have been a mistake.

Instead, he’d made himself wait until the crowd had gone back into Pleasures, then he’d pulled out of his space and driven down to Fisherman’s Wharf.

Just a little bit longer now, and he’d be fine. Something inside of him would settle and his mind would clear.

For two blocks, he concentrated on breathing in and breathing out. No one had seen him earlier. He was sure of that. Everyone had been watching what was going on in front of the club. But he shouldn’t have panicked.

That was inexcusable. Panic led to mistakes even when the anger was justified.

He’d explained the plan very carefully to his partner. It was a simple job.

No guns.

Fury erupted again. If they’d shot Jonah…

He bit back the scream that burned in his throat like acid and fisted his hands at his sides. It was his job to kill Jonah. His job. And it wasn’t time yet.

When the red haze threatened to blur his vision again, he stopped and drew in a deep breath. Then another.

Think. He had to think.

It wasn’t entirely his partner’s fault that the mission had failed. There was the woman.

She shouldn’t have been there. Jonah Stone wasn’t dating anyone. She didn’t work for him. And she’d spoiled everything.

He began to walk again. He’d find out who she was, and she’d pay dearly for disrupting his plan.

When he finally felt himself settle, he realized that he was standing in front of a restaurant. Through the windows, he saw people laughing and talking at the bar. For a moment, he was tempted to go in and order a drink. Then the door of the restaurant opened and he caught the sound of muted Christmas music.

No. He couldn’t go into a place where they were celebrating the season.

So he would return to his room to have that drink, and he would wait for his partner to report.

And he would plan his revenge on the woman.

AS JONAH LED HER AROUND on a brief tour of Pleasures, Cilla could tell he was seriously annoyed. The calm voice and the charming smile didn’t fool her.

She could understand what he must be feeling, sympathize with it. But what she admired was the way he kept his emotions tightly leashed. He’d never once interrupted her or tried to take her cell phone from her while she was reporting to Gabe. She doubted she could have been that patient.

He’d taken her on a brief tour of the jazz room in the basement and the private dining rooms on the second floor, but she couldn’t recall one detail. Each time his arm brushed against hers or he placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her up or down a staircase, she couldn’t help remembering that moment out on the street when he’d leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing hers, and the incredible heat that had exploded through her.

For that one instant, her mind had totally blanked. She’d forgotten her plan, the danger he was in. There’d been only Jonah Stone. And the fierce desire that he alone could provoke had nearly consumed her.

He’d felt at least some of what she was feeling. His hands had tightened their grip on her waist and she’d seen the way those smoke-colored eyes had darkened until they were black as an abyss.

But he hadn’t kissed her. He’d maintained control. He’d kept his mind focused on the danger. What woman could resist thinking about what it might take to break that control?

Which was reason numero uno why she had to take herself off the case. Jonah Stone was in trouble. And the best way she could help him was to keep her distance. So she could think—about something besides jumping him.

That last option was totally off the plate since he was now officially a client. In her book, getting involved with a client led to disaster. It was a client in L.A. who’d expected side benefits as part of his security service that had led her to quit and move on.

But Jonah Stone was an entirely different problem. This time she was the one who might be tempted to offer side benefits. Even now she could feel the slow burning flame that she’d felt from the first time he’d gripped her hand at Gabe’s party. And she’d experienced how that flame could explode into a flash fire. Her aunt Nancy, who was a Catholic nun, used to talk about avoiding the occasion of sin. Cilla shot Jonah a sideways glance. For her that term summed up Jonah Stone.

And he was still in perfect control. There was no sign of what he had to be feeling. The man had gone through a lot today. Still, when they reached the bar, he smiled and exchanged a warm greeting with an older, handsome and fit-looking man who stepped into their path.

“That was a nasty piece of business out there on the street,” the man said.

Cilla remembered that he’d been one of the customers outside earlier. He was about Jonah’s height, darkhaired with gray at his temples. He reminded Cilla of a well-aging James Bond. She saw both concern and worry in the steel-colored eyes when they met hers. “Nice work.” Then he turned back to Jonah. “What can I do to help?”

“Got it covered,” Jonah assured him. “Cilla Michaels, I’d like you to meet Carl Rockwell. Not only is he a regular here at Pleasures, but he was one of my original backers when I opened the club. He believed in me when I was an unknown quantity.”

“And I still do,” Carl said.

Jonah smiled at him. “He’s invested in all my clubs, and now he’s a partner in a new place we’re opening in San Diego.”

Cilla held out a hand and found it firmly grasped.

“Cilla heads up G.W. Securities here in the city,” Jonah continued, “and I seem to be her newest client.”

“Good.” Carl stared directly into Cilla’s eyes. “Don’t let anyone hurt him, and let me know if you can use some backup.”

“He’s not kidding,” Jonah said. “Before he retired, Carl worked in the security business.”

“Virgil can let me know if you need me,” Carl said, nodding at the two of them before he returned to the bar.

Jonah led her to an empty booth at the far end of the room. Virgil managed to reach it just as they did.

He beamed a smile at them, then spoke in a low voice. “Does that little sideshow the two of you put on in the street have anything to do with the green box that was delivered here yesterday?”

“Jury’s out on that,” Jonah murmured. “I received another box in Denver this morning.”

“Shit,” Virgil breathed. “What can I do?”

“Exactly what you’re doing. Run Pleasures.”

Cilla studied the two men as Jonah laid a hand on Virgil’s arm and reassured him with the same information he’d given to Carl Rockwell. But he didn’t tell either man that he was definitely her client. “I seem to be” just didn’t make the cut.

She guessed that Virgil had about a decade on Jonah, and from the easy way they talked, she figured their relationship was personal as well as professional. Plus, Virgil was sharp. He’d already tried to connect the dots between the little Christmas gift Jonah had received and the attack.

Virgil turned to her. “If you work for Gabe Wilder, I have to assume you’re the best. What you did out on the street was impressive. But keep it up. Don’t let anything happen to Jonah.” Then he turned and moved back to the bar.

“Well, I’ve been well and duly threatened,” Cilla said as she slid into the back of the booth. “You have some very concerned friends. Does anyone else here know about the green boxes?”

Jonah shook his head. “Just Virgil. I asked him to keep an eye out in case another was delivered here.”

From her position at the back of the booth, Cilla had a view of the entire room. The crowd had thinned a bit so it was the first time that she was able to get a good look at the decor. And since a table now separated her from Jonah, she could give her surroundings more attention than she had on her tour.

The rich combination of dark mahogany and gleaming brass on the bar itself was repeated in the furniture and in the wood panels and sconces that lined the walls. The booths were red leather and the candle flickered in an old-fashioned hurricane lamp.

“What do you think?” Jonah asked.

“Sumptuous. It reminds me of another era where life moved more slowly, before airplanes, when people had the time to travel on a luxury liner to Europe. I got the same impression earlier when I looked up at the second-story windows. It makes me think of the times F. Scott Fitzgerald or Henry James captured in their novels.”