Читать книгу A Perfect Storm - Lori Foster - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

ARIZONA WATCHED AS CALM settled over Spencer’s features. Oh, chaotic emotion had been there seconds before. She knew it. But now, he looked as collected as a college professor.

“Excuse me,” he said with absurd formality, and turned to head for the front door.

The second his back was turned, she let out a pent-up breath and felt her knees weaken.

Why did he rattle her so much? Fear? Yeah, around him she felt it in spades. But it wasn’t a normal kind of fear.

It wasn’t anything familiar.

She’d lived with fear most of her life, first from her father and his cohorts, then from the awful traffickers and the swine who came to them for women. And then…from the idea of being alone, unable to help others.

Useless.

From where she stood, the open door blocked her view of his visitor, but she didn’t need a visual, not with the husky female voice now crooning, “Spencer, I’m so glad you’re home.”

Arizona’s spine went rigid.

Strength surged back into her legs.

So did petty animosity.

She strained her ears but heard nothing, and she suspected the woman was kissing Spencer.

“Sorry, doll,” Spencer finally said low, “but it’s not a good time.”

Doll? Not a good time for what? Curiosity, and a few more unpleasant emotions, nudged Arizona closer.

“But it’s been forever,” purred the female, “and you promised me—”

“I don’t make promises.”

“I know.” An exaggerated sigh. “That’s not what I meant. But…” Silly female cajoling. “God, Spencer, I need you.” Slim, pale hands came up and around Spencer’s neck and drew him down.

This time she had no doubts at all about the silence. They were making out in his doorway, right there for God and the rest of the world to see.

Peeved, Arizona took a few quicker steps forward, and witnessed a pretty blonde delivering a scorching kiss. They both had their eyes closed. They fit together. And she saw a flash of tongue.

Fury narrowed her eyes.

Spencer knew she was waiting on him, but he didn’t exactly fight off Blondie’s attentions.

With one hand at her waist and the other keeping the door held open—probably to try to block Arizona from seeing—Spencer let the brazen broad kiss him.

Crossing her arms and propping her shoulder against the wall, Arizona asked, “Can I get an estimate on how long this is going to take?”

When they both looked at her, the blonde shocked, Spencer resigned, Arizona smiled.

“I mean, is this going somewhere? Should I skedaddle and leave you to it? Or should I just wait outside for a few?”

The blonde opened her mouth twice but said nothing. Her lips were now wet, her face flushed.

Spencer, appearing unaffected by it all, didn’t say anything. He just watched Arizona.

When the blonde noticed that, she shoved out of Spencer’s hold. “You bastard!” She turned and marched away.

“Hey, he doesn’t make promises,” Arizona called after her. “You should’ve remembered that!” Since Blondie didn’t head for a car but instead crossed the lawn, Arizona assumed her to be a neighbor. How handy was that? He had “hanky-panky” living right next door.

Giving her a dirty look, Spencer pointed at her. “Stay.” And with that, he went after the woman.

Like…maybe she mattered to him? Who was she?

Snuffing the hurt she felt, Arizona said, “Woof,” so Spencer would know what she thought of his order, then she strode to the door to watch the theatrics.

Relationships confounded her; she’d never seen the appeal of having someone around, underfoot. The invasion to your privacy. The expectations. Obligations.

Sex.

No, she wanted no part of it.

And yet it infuriated her to see Spencer contain the woman by holding her oh-so-gently, and to see Blondie soften as he explained.

What did he tell her?

For certain, Spencer wouldn’t admit that she’d watched him sleeping, that he’d gotten up and paraded around buck naked in front of her.

He wouldn’t admit that they were both vigilantes, and that their only connection was a drive to bring the bad guys to justice.

But he talked about something, and when the woman looked toward Arizona with understanding and sympathy, her temper snapped.

What the hell?

Did that bimbo pity her?

Storming away, Arizona headed back to the kitchen. Along the way she threw a few shadow punches and kicks, then drew a slow deep breath. She’d already reconnoitered Spencer’s house, so she knew she could slip out the back door and not have to see him again.

But she wouldn’t. She’d be damned before she let him make her flee. She didn’t run from anyone. Not anymore. Never again.

Hoping to hide her awful mix of emotions, she went about cleaning up the mess on the floor.

Making herself at home, she located Spencer’s garbage can and unearthed a roll of paper towels. She was almost done when Spencer came in several minutes later.

The second she saw him, she tossed away the last paper towel and regained her feet. “You do her in the driveway?”

Appearing cautious, he said, “What?”

Holding one hand in a circle and extending the first finger of her other hand, Arizona created a crude simulation of sex.

His expression tightened. “That’s enough.”

“Is it?” She leaned on the counter. “You were gone long enough.”

“Five minutes? I don’t think so.”

That stymied her for a moment, but what did she know of his sexual habits? Maybe he struggled. Maybe it took him longer. “Whatever you say.”

He drew out a chair. “Jealous much?”

“No!”

“Then what do you care?”

Her molars clenched. “I don’t.” But her heart started thumping in a very strange way.

“You refused to kiss me,” he reminded her.

Oh, surely he didn’t think… “Damn right I refused!”

“Then it doesn’t matter if I kiss her, does it?”

Her hand twitched with the need to zing the remaining coffee cup at his handsome face, but that would never do. It’d give away too much—and leave her with another mess to clean up.

Besides, he now blocked the exit from the kitchen to the front door, and she wasn’t reckless enough to infuriate him when getting out the back would hinder her escape and make it possible for him to catch her—

“I will not hurt you, damn it!”

She almost jumped out of her skin with that deep, loud shout. But he looked more offended than threatening, alleviating her concern. “Sheesh. Stop my heart, why don’t you?” At least his outburst had brought her back around, helping her to shake off those odd sensations of worry and…hurt.

He literally fumed. “You’re standing there configuring escape routes.”

“No way.” How could he know that?

“I saw it in your eyes, Arizona. You have an expressive face.”

“Seriously?” And here she’d thought just the opposite. Many, many times she’d hidden her emotions from others. Her sadness. Her fear. Her yearning. No one else had so easily picked up on her thoughts.

“Very expressive.” He drew a deep breath, ran both hands through his hair. “But there’s no need. Marla’s a friend, that’s all.”

“A friend that you fuck?”

His teeth sawed together. “Occasionally. By mutual agreement.”

Ah, God, why did that hurt so much? It shouldn’t. It had nothing to do with her. “I interrupted a little nookie time for you, didn’t I?” The sarcasm came through loud and clear. She shook her head in pity. “I am soooo sorry.”

“No, you’re not, so don’t lie about it.”

No, she wasn’t sorry. Just the opposite, she was glad she’d kept him from boinking the blonde. “Marla, huh? She was sort of…full-figured, wasn’t she?”

“She’s got a lot of curves. So what?”

“You’re a chubby chaser?”

He rubbed his face in exasperation. “Most men like a woman with some meat on her bones.”

Unable to stop herself, Arizona glanced down at her trim limbs. No one would call her chubby. She had her own curves, but if he preferred—

“Stop it, Arizona.”

“Stop what?”

“Comparing.” His gaze went all over her, fast but thorough. He glanced away as he said, “You’re incredibly sexy.”

“Incredibly?” Okay, so she knew that men found her appealing. Usually it creeped her out.

Now…not so much.

“There are a lot of different body types, but most women are beautiful in their own way.”

“Wow.” Could he really believe that nonsense? “That sounded almost poetic.”

“You know men find you attractive.”

“I know they see…me.” Her throat tightened, especially with the speculative way Spencer watched her. She flagged a hand and tried to sound negligent. “They look at me and they know things. That’s all.”

“What things?”

“Who I am, what I’ve done.”

“No.” His gaze darkened, softened. “They look at you and see an extremely exotic, beautiful woman. That’s all.”

If he wanted to believe that, fine. She knew the truth: her ugly past clung to her like a wet shirt.

He dropped into the seat. “Let’s get back to the bet, okay?”

She’d rather not. “What did you tell her about me?” It still rankled, seeing the way that woman had looked at her, all long-faced and sad-sacked.

Spencer sighed. “Does it really matter?”

“To me, yeah.” She nudged her chin at him. “C’mon. Fess up. What’d you say?”

He worked his jaw. “I told her you were a one-night stand who didn’t understand the concept.”

Un-freaking-believable. “She bought that?”

“That you and I would have sex?” With a sardonic glare, he said, “Yeah, she bought it.”

“No, I mean that I would track you down here and act all stalkerish and clingy and shit?”

His expression didn’t change. “She bought it.”

“Huh. That makes me sound really…dysfunctional. And maybe dangerous.” She thought about it and grinned. “Not bad. I can live with that.”

He rolled his eyes. “The bet?”

It wouldn’t hurt to clean up her language. She’d always meant to anyway, but when she got annoyed, stuff just came out of her mouth. “I dunno. What do I get when I win?”

“What do you want?”

Perfect opening. Refusing to admit, even to herself, how much his answer mattered, she said, “Your help with checking out the bar and grill and, if necessary, righting things there.”

His gaze searched hers for only a moment before he nodded agreement.

No way. That was too easy. “Seriously?”

He sat back in the seat and crossed his arms. “I’d have done that anyway. So yeah, why not?”

“You…” She closed her mouth and frowned. He’d planned to assist her all along? “You’ll help me? For real?”

“I can’t control you, so I know you’re going to do it either way.” Gently, he tacked on, “Did you really think I’d let you get involved on your own?”

Did he really think he’d have any say-so in that? Not likely.

Two emotions pulled at her: resentment that he wanted to control her, because no way in hell would she ever let that happen again, and a twinge of…maybe relief.

Because he seemed to care what happened to her.

Dumb, dumb, dumb. She worked best unhindered by emotion. It was tough enough worrying about Jackson, but she owed him big-time, so of course she wanted him safe. The last thing she needed was to start fretting about Spencer, too.

And thinking of Jackson…

While she had Spencer in an agreeable mood, why not press for more? Taking the seat opposite him at the table, she thought it through, then ventured cautiously, “Okay. Since that was already a given, maybe…” she drew a deep breath “…you could be my escort to Jackson’s wedding?”

“Done.” He thrust out his hand.

Whoa. His fast agreement left her feeling played. But damn it, she didn’t want to go to a wedding. Since she had to go, she didn’t want to go by herself.

He waited.

“If I can’t swear,” she warned, “you can’t, either.”

“No problem.” He kept his hand extended, his expression expectant.

Uncertainty left her on edge. Oh, she trusted that she could win the stupid bet and all payments would be a moot point, but still… “What kind of kiss are we talking about?”

Suddenly his annoyance melted away. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Nothing to distress you, I promise.”

Yeah, well, the way he said that—with so much satisfaction—sort of distressed her more than anything. But Arizona shored up her pride and gripped his hand. “Get your suit ready, Spence, because I know I’ll win the bet.”

He let her slide on shortening his name—which was something she knew annoyed him. “If you say so.” He retained his hold on her hand. “I would have gone with you to the wedding anyway, so it’s no skin off my nose.”

Touching him did funny things to her stomach, made her feel unsettled and jumpy and too warm. Pulling her hand free, she pushed from her seat and glared down at him. “If you would have already done both those things, then I’m not really getting anything in the bet!”

“But you already agreed.” He smiled. “You even shook on it. And somehow, I just know you’re true to your word.”

Like he really knew jackola about her or her morals? Fat chance. She headed for the coffee carafe and a new mug. “Fine. Whatever. Now, about that bar…”

“Understand, Arizona. Even if you lose the bet—”

“I won’t.” She couldn’t. Kisses? No, she couldn’t, wouldn’t let that happen.

“I’m still going with you to the wedding—”

“We’ll see.” But she was so relieved to hear it. Going with Spencer would make the formal affair a little more bearable.

“—and I’m still going to help you with the bar.”

“Great. Glad to hear it.”

“But I want you to listen to me, and listen good.”

Here we go. She poured a fresh cup of coffee and came back to the table. “Let’s hear it.”

“Since you want my help, I have a few rules.”

“Like?”

“Give me the name and address and I’ll scope it out.” He looked stern, even foreboding. “In the meantime, you will not do anything on your own. Don’t go there, don’t even go near there. I don’t want them to know who you are.”

Arizona laughed. “Sorry, Spence-my-buddy, but it’s too late for that. I’ve been there twice already, and they’ve more than taken notice of me, so…” She shrugged. “I’m balls-deep in this thing, and we gotta go in tomorrow night, because they’re expecting me. Be there or be square.”

* * *

THE SECOND SPENCER STEPPED into the family-owned diner, he saw Trace sitting toward the back, drinking a Coke and eating a burger. Innocuous enough, or at least it should have been.

But no way in hell would anyone not notice Trace Miller. More than any other man he knew, this one exuded extreme capability. He was part of a trio that Spencer had met after tailing Arizona right into the middle of a setup. She’d been in danger, or so he’d thought. There was no way he could have known she had an elite ops group looking out for her. The trio had incredible contacts, far reaching influence and the ability to back up the badass swagger.

Not that any of them swaggered, really. Well, maybe Jackson, but that had more to do with Jackson as a man than with his expertise at utilizing deadly skill. If Spencer had to guess, he’d say Jackson was born cocky.

This one, Trace Miller—most likely an alias—was a cool cucumber. GQ looks didn’t conceal his edge. As a bounty hunter, Spencer had learned to size up people quickly in order to gauge the danger in any situation. He’d pegged Trace as a take-charge, protect-the-innocent but get-it-done personality. Suave, wealthy, efficient…and deadly when necessary.

The trio seemed to trust him—to a degree. He had no illusions about their cautious natures. They’d already dug through his background, unearthed things he’d rather keep private, and probably knew him as well as he knew himself. Not that they said much about it. So far, there’d been no reason.

Spencer didn’t take the association lightly, and beyond that, he hated to ask for favors. He especially hated to admit he might not be able to handle things on his own. If Arizona wasn’t at risk, he’d do things his way and accept the consequences.

He wasn’t without his own ability.

But she was involved. Hell, she was in it up to her pretty little nose, and that changed everything. He knew the trio cared about her, that they’d made her a priority. Having backup, just in case things went sideways, only made sense. He wanted her safe, damn it.

Feeling a little traitorous, Spencer crossed the restaurant floor. He’d only promised not to tell Jackson, he reminded himself.

He hadn’t said a thing about Trace.

When he reached the table, Trace set aside his napkin and glanced up. “There a reason you stood there studying me before coming in?”

Since he hadn’t been going for stealth, Spencer didn’t mind the direct question. He shook his head and slid into the booth. “Not really. Just wondering about something. I know Jackson renamed Arizona. And I know that Alani’s last name is different from yours, even though you’re siblings. So was she renamed, too?”

“No.”

Which meant Miller was an alias.

Figures. With a nod, because he really didn’t care, Spencer said, “I have a problem.”

With a half smile, Trace asked, “Is her name Arizona?”

Not funny. Or rather, it would be funny if it didn’t involve him. “Bingo.”

“What’d she do now?” Trace sat back in the booth. “And why aren’t you going to Jackson? She’s like a sister to him.”

Was she? He knew Jackson felt that way—but Arizona? Sometimes he wondered. They had a very complicated relationship, but Spencer said only, “Arizona made me promise I wouldn’t tell Jackson.”

“Ah. Didn’t mention keeping it from me or Dare, huh?”

“No. I guess she didn’t think you two were an option.” Dare was the third element in the team. The day Spencer had met them all, Dare had been on surveillance—meaning crouched on a hillside with high-powered rifles ready to pick off anyone planning an ambush. “I doubt Arizona even realizes we’ve stayed in touch since that cluster-fuck happened.”

He shrugged. “It went as planned.”

“She was in the middle of it all.” It still made Spencer furious to think about it. Arizona had used herself to lure in the human traffickers. But she hadn’t realized they were the same people she’d previously escaped—the same people who had once tossed her, bound and abused, over the side of a bridge and into a churning river to kill her.

If Jackson hadn’t come upon them that night, if he hadn’t been skilled enough and fast enough, Arizona would have drowned.

Sadly, few would have noticed her passing. Even fewer would have cared.

Spencer’s guts cramped. So far in her young life, Arizona had been dealt a miserable hand. And still she was so…spirited.

“Since they wanted her dead, I’d say you were right.” Trace studied him. “You seeing her much?”

“Not really.” He didn’t want to betray Arizona’s trust, so he couldn’t explain that he’d been trying to avoid her—and forget her—only to find her sitting in his bedroom, watching him sleep. “She stopped by.”

Trace’s expression didn’t change. “To engage you in one of her stunts?”

Now he felt defensive on her behalf. “What she doesn’t have in size and strength, she makes up for with brains and bravery.”

“Bravery?” Eyebrow raised, Trace reached for his Coke. “I’d call it recklessness.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t want to argue the point. “It bothers me that she doesn’t show enough caution, and she puts no value on her own hide.”

“I know.” Almost as a warning, Trace said, “Whoever hooks up with the girl better have a lot of fortitude, because I don’t see her easing off anytime soon.”

Yeah…he didn’t want to think about Arizona with anyone else. And the way she’d reacted to the idea of a kiss, he knew she still had a lot of hurt to overcome. People now cared for her, but she trusted only the ugly side of life.

Because that was all she knew.

With the Coke gone, Trace got serious. “I thought Jackson had her busy doing computer work.”

Not busy enough, obviously. “She does that—and then some.”

On a sigh, Trace asked, “So what’s she into now?”

Spencer explained about the bar and grill, and Arizona’s suspicions. “She told me she’s been there a few times already and she’s been noticed.”

“That girl would get noticed anywhere.”

An irrefutable fact. He’d never seen a woman as breathtakingly gorgeous as Arizona. “So at this point, for the sake of her safety, I have to assume there are some shady deals going on. Which means someone might have already followed her.”

“They could know where she lives, the places she frequents. She could get grabbed right off the street.” Trace gave him a long look. “Unfortunately, it happens all the time.”

Which was why he wanted to protect her. “I have no choice but to get involved.”

“No choice at all.” Trace considered things. “Give me the name of the place and the location.”

“The Green Goose, in downtown Middleville.”

Expression arrested, Trace said, “Shit.”

“What? You’re aware of something going on in there?”

It took him a second, and then Trace laughed. “She’s got great instincts, I’ll give her that.”

It hit Spencer like a ton of bricks. “She’s right about the place, isn’t she?”

“Afraid so. Luckily for your peace of mind, we were already on it. Early stages, though. Dare was running background checks on the owners, and I was planning a visit so I could scope out things from within.”

“Arizona’s already done that.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, but Trace had to know it all. “She says she sat at a table, and when a kid came to take her order, she noticed some bruises, what looked like a broken finger that hadn’t been set right, and the boy wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Probably not more than sixteen, though of course his age would be fudged.”

Anger gathered in Trace’s expression, but he sounded calm enough when he said, “I wish we’d moved on this sooner, damn it.”

But they couldn’t be everywhere at once, and cruelty existed far and wide, all the time. “When the boy brought her food, Arizona asked if it was a good place to work. She told him she was looking for a job.”

“The boy’s reaction?”

“He couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her what they made per hour.”

Grim, Trace said, “Because he’s not getting paid.”

“That’s Arizona’s assumption. Around a lot of stammering and nervousness, the boy pointed out the man to talk to if she wanted to work there. Arizona said he’s a tall, skinny guy, mid-forties, thinning brown hair, brown eyes, goatee, earring, some sort of colorful tribal tattoo on his left arm. From what she could find out, he’s the owner of the place.”

“Terry Janes.” Trace crossed his arms. “Did some time when he was younger for peddling drugs, been in more trouble a handful of times for robbery, breaking and entering, suspected rape. He had a charge for beating a guy half to death, but that fell through the cracks. No way is he the owner.”

God, it sounded worse than Spencer had suspected. “Later that night, Arizona kept watch on the place and only a few of the employees left. Janes, his bartender, his bouncer—just key people, I guess. He locked the door behind him. It’s a shitty part of town, so bars on the windows make sense, but in this case—”

“They’re there to keep the workers in.” After a moment of thought, Trace leaned forward, arms resting on the table. “Please tell me that Arizona hasn’t talked to him.”

That was the only good news in the whole screwed scenario. “She says not, but she told the boy she’d be back tomorrow night—and she’s pretty sure the guy overheard it all.”

“Which was probably intentional on her part?”

“I assume so.”

Trace shook his head. “So now they’ll be watching for her.”

“You met Arizona. That’s her plan.” Disgust rolled through him; he hated her plan. “She wants them to know, to make a move, so she can expose them.”

“At least she had the good sense to come to you for backup.” Trace pulled out his cell phone. “Where’s Arizona now?”

“At this precise moment? No idea.” And that was a problem, because it would take Arizona no more than a minute to get in over her head. When he couldn’t see her, he worried about what she was doing, if she was safe.

He wondered if she thought about him even half as much as he thought about her.

It’d be nice to claim that altruistic motives drove him. But that wouldn’t be the whole truth, and he knew it.

He glanced at his wristwatch. “She’s coming by my place in a few hours so we can coordinate plans for tomorrow.”

“Coordinating plans was the best you could come up with?”

Spencer shrugged. That had been the only excuse he could think of to gain himself time enough to talk to Trace—and to get a cake for her birthday.

Trace said, “Whatever you call it, get her to stay overnight with you, and keep her under wraps until she heads to the Green Goose.”

No and no again. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” And not touch her?

“I don’t know. Find a way. Tell her you need to go over the rules with her.”

Or just go over her. Spencer shook his head. “You think that’ll take the whole night?”

“Guess that depends on how you drag it out, doesn’t it?”

Spencer didn’t miss the suggestion. But Trace had to be kidding. With a hand to the back of his neck, Spencer tried to rub away the growing tension. “The thing is, Arizona’s…skittish.”

What an understatement. Arizona was all brass and bravado, until someone showed intimate interest. Then her survival reaction of fight, flight or freeze kicked in.

So far, with him, she always chose to fight.

And every time it happened, the vise on his heart squeezed a little tighter. He had a plan to help her with that. A masochistic plan that was sure to make him nuts, but for Arizona…

“She knows you want her.”

“No.” Damn it, he’d said that too fast and sounded far too defensive.

Trace just looked at him.

“I’m too old for her.” God, just shut up, Spencer.

“Given what she’s been through and the way she lives, I’d say you’re just what she needs.”

Not a topic he’d discuss with Trace or anyone else.

As if he realized that himself, Trace didn’t wait for confirmation. “Get her to your place, and I’ll find a way to disable her car. It’s as good an excuse as any for her to stay the night. Keeping her with you will give you more control until we shut down the joint.”

The enormity of coercing Arizona to do anything was overshadowed by Spencer’s surprise. “Shut it down?” Could it really be that easy to remove Arizona from danger—this time? “Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.” Being enigmatic, Trace added, “We were on this anyway.”

We, meaning Trace, Dare and Jackson? He didn’t ask. He knew Trace wouldn’t tell him. “Glad to hear it.”

“Now, with Arizona ready to dive in… It could still take some time, but I’ll do my best to accelerate things.”

“I hope so, because if you know Arizona at all, you know I’m not going to be able to get her to pull back.” Hell, he’d be lucky if he could get her to stop swinging for his head. “As for her staying with me…dicking with her car might work once, but after that? She won’t like the idea of anyone protecting her.”

Trace looked down at the table. “I understand her. After what she’s been through, she hurts, physically and emotionally, thinking about anyone caught in that situation.”

“She knows how it is,” Spencer agreed softly. “She understands that unique misery only too well.” And for Arizona, the only escape from her memories would be to validate her current well-being by helping others. Otherwise, she’d feel like she had no justice at all.

They shared a somber moment, then Trace flipped open his phone and pressed a button. “Let me make this call, and then I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.”