Читать книгу A Perfect Storm - Lori Foster - Страница 9
ОглавлениеCHAPTER THREE
BRIGHT SUNSHINE SHONE in Arizona’s eyes as she waited in her car for Spencer to return. Even adjusting the visor didn’t help. Heat built—inside the car, inside her mind.
Growing bored, then quickly drowsy, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes against the glare…and drifted away to the day of that awful confrontation.
Spencer’s voice sounded with conviction…and with caring. “Whatever Chandra did to you, she’ll pay.”
But Arizona knew that couldn’t be true. Even thinking Chandra had died wasn’t payment enough. And now, people she cared about, people she loved, were at risk.
Because of her.
Red-hot hatred, bone-deep fear, churned inside her.
It wasn’t easy, but she pretended indifference to the situation. Not that she ever could be. Not faced with her tormentor—the one who’d orchestrated so much hurt and unthinkable disgrace, here in the flesh.
All this time, she’d thought Chandra dead, well out of reach of revenge.
And unable to cause more pain.
Yet there she stood. Smiling. Sick as always. Unfortunately, this time, Arizona wasn’t her only target. Now Chandra planned to hurt others—Jackson, his girlfriend, Alani.
Spencer.
No, not Spencer. He’d skipped out seconds before the situation escalated. To where?
Who cared? She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
Bravado would have to get her through. Summoning a snide smile to hide the hurt, Arizona sneered, “Usually dead women can’t talk. And you are dead—whether you realize it yet or not.”
A maniacal laugh. Chandra’s awful, bone-chilling enjoyment of pain.
It left her pale, cold. Determined. Arizona didn’t back down. “It’s between us. Leave the others out of it.” Let me have my revenge. Please.
Chandra disregarded the warning, saying, “If she speaks again, shoot her.”
And they would. Chandra’s bully boys would enjoy putting a bullet in her.
What to do? Stand back, as Jackson asked? She owed him so much, but…she couldn’t. If she stayed safe, she couldn’t strike out. And she wanted to. She desperately needed to.
So what if her hands were shaking?
So what if her heart thundered and her eyes burned and the urge to flee beat hard and fast in her chest? Never would she run away.
This was her hell.
She had the right to end it.
Determined, determined…but then everything happened at once. Multiple shots, chaos…
Spencer! He hadn’t left. Not yet.
Expression fierce and jaw rock-hard, Spencer started toward her.
He’d stolen her revenge.
He hadn’t left her.
Anger and relief built in combustible force, so confusing, so powerful—
“Yoo-hoo.”
Jolted from the dark memory, Arizona bolted upright in her seat. Without thinking about it, she automatically reached for her knife and looked around at the same time.
Standing there by the passenger door, bending to look in the window, was Spencer’s busty neighbor. She showed off a bright smile, a lot of cleavage and cunning resolve.
Perfect. Just what she deserved.
Still caught up in reliving the awful scenario that had stolen her purpose for being, Arizona breathed too hard, too fast. Sweat had gathered along her spine. Her palms felt damp.
Slowly, hoping the neighbor wouldn’t notice, she drew her hand away from the knife hidden at the small of her back, then shoved her hair from her face.
Where the hell was Spencer? She’d pulled up twenty minutes ago but hadn’t seen his truck. While trying to decide whether to hang around or to bolt, she’d taken an unplanned trip down memory lane.
So lame.
Surreptitiously she swiped a forearm over her brow and put up the car windows.
Never one to miss an opportunity, Arizona undid her seat belt and left her black Focus. “Yoo-hoo, yourself.” Even saying it with sarcasm, she felt like an ass. But at least the intrusion had brought her back to the here and now. “You know where Spencer is?”
“He went out,” Blondie said helpfully.
“No kidding?” Arizona circled the hood, leaned against the fender and crossed her arms. “You don’t miss much, do you?”
Blondie’s smile slipped, making her almost feel mean.
“Sorry. I’ve had a rough day.” She held out her hand. “Arizona.”
“What?”
Well used to that reaction, she shrugged. “My name. It’s Arizona.”
“Oh.” Wary, keeping the contact as brief as possible, the neighbor-lady shook her hand in a limp, barely there greeting. “Marla.”
“Nice to meet you, Marla.” Spencer had asked her to come back at six, and she was twenty minutes early, but so what? She couldn’t break in again, not with the ever-alert Marla keeping tabs on things. Anything that happened now was Spencer’s fault. “So, that stuff this morning… You and Spence got something going on, huh?”
Marla found her backbone. “Yes.”
That was it? Arizona pursed her mouth and waited. Blondie would crack, no doubt about it.
Annnnnddd…she did.
“We’ve, ah, been seeing each other for a while now.”
Seeing each other meant what? In the sack, or had Spencer taken her out on a date? Dancing, dinner, movies… Arizona really had no understanding of the concept. Never in her life had she been out on a legitimate “date.”
This could be a great learning experience. She’d uncover details about Spencer that a cold file filled with facts couldn’t give, and maybe get a better, more personal grasp of the whole relationship ritual.
“No kidding? How long is a while?”
Marla’s bravery faltered. “Long enough.”
Meaning…they were an item? “Well of course you have. Look at you.” She gestured at Marla’s boobs. “No guy would pass that up, right?”
That must’ve been the wrong thing to say, because Marla backed up two steps. “You looked lost in thought when I walked out.”
Lost being the operative word. But not anymore. Never again. “Just waiting on Spence.”
“Why?”
For some insane reason, maybe deeply rooted female vindictiveness, Arizona enjoyed telling her, “He wanted me to join him for dinner.”
Putting her plump shoulders back, Marla tried for a level, nasty stare. “You’re wasting your time.”
A direct attack? Bravo, Marla. Grinning, Arizona said, “Well, look at you feeling all ballsy and possessive and stuff.”
That got her a double take and more wariness. “I mean it.” Marla visually worked up her courage. “Spencer and I might not be…committed—”
“Still up in the air, huh?”
“But we have an understanding.”
What did that mean? An understanding about what? “Enlighten me, why doncha?”
“You can’t have him.”
No misunderstanding that. “Didn’t say I wanted him.” Arizona pushed away from the car, and Blondie took another quick step back. “At least, not for what you’re talking about.”
“No?”
“Definitely no. You want to screw him?” Her throat tightened, but she got the words out. “Have at it. More power to you.”
Marla soaked in the words, analyzed them, and gave a slow smile.
Arizona didn’t trust that smile one bit. “What’s funny?”
Overflowing with good humor, Marla said, “You haven’t slept with him, have you?”
How would she know that? She couldn’t. “I never kiss and tell.”
Marla shook her head. “Spencer said you were a one-night stand, a mistake, but now I know that was a lie.”
A mistake? That dick. She’d make him pay for that. “You calling Spence a liar?”
“I’m just saying that he made up a story for some reason. Maybe to protect you somehow. I know he’s a bounty hunter. Could be you’re undercover with him or something.”
Huh. What exactly did she think bounty hunters did? Mocking her assumptions, Arizona said, “That’s some imagination you’ve got.”
Marla shrugged. “All I know is that you haven’t slept with him.”
“You’re sure about that, are you?”
“Absolutely.” Marla oozed satisfaction, even leaned in to taunt Arizona. “If you’d ever had him, you’d feel differently about having him again.”
She sounded so convinced, she piqued Arizona’s interest. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
With significance, Marla purred, “For one thing, he’s big all over.”
Arizona’s heart almost stopped. In an appalled whisper, she asked, “You like that?”
Scowling, Marla pulled back. “Bigger is definitely better.”
Visuals came to Arizona’s mind, but she didn’t have quite the reaction Marla seemed to expect. She wrinkled her nose. “If you say so.”
Marla shivered with pleasure. “He’s delicious.”
Yeaaaahhhh, she’d let that one go. “You’re saying that even though he’s big, you don’t feel…” She couldn’t think of an appropriate word and settled for, “maybe threatened?”
“With Spencer? Of course not.”
Hmm. Okay, so Spencer was extra tall, extra muscular, solid, and loaded with ability. He had never hurt her.
Contained her, yes. Hurt her, no. “So you like it that he’s big?”
“That, and the man knows things.”
Fascinating. What things could he know that she didn’t, that Marla found not only acceptable, but good enough to want again and again? “Give me an example.”
“I’m not telling you!”
Provoking her—because she really did want details—Arizona said, “That’s what I thought. You can’t give an example because you don’t know.”
“He’s wonderful.”
Arizona snorted. “Wonderfully pushy.”
“He’s considerate and patient.”
“So is my bookie,” Arizona told her, “but I wouldn’t want to screw him.” She shuddered at just the thought.
Taking the bait, Marla leaned forward again. “He’s the best, most generous lover I’ve ever had.”
“How many have you had?”
“My God.” Gasping, Marla drew back once more. “That is none of your business!”
“You brought it up.” Still ripe with curiosity, Arizona asked, “So what does Spence do specifically that’s so awesome you’d be willing to fight for him?”
Marla blanched. “Fight? But…but I never said anything about fighting.”
“No? So then what’s this?” Arizona waved a hand between them. “Some sort of warped social call?”
Her mouth worked, but it took her a few seconds to get anything out. “He said you’re a stalker.”
Considering she’d broken in and watched him sleep, she couldn’t deny that. “Ehhhh…maybe.”
Marla found her courage again. “Well, whatever reason you’re here, you might as well give up on the idea of having him. He’s mine, and he’s staying mine.”
Spencer drove up and, looking horrified to see the women together, pulled into his driveway and slammed the truck into Park.
Lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, Arizona watched him cross the yard in a fast, long-legged stride. He wore a frown of concern. Sheesh. What did he think she’d do to his girlfriend?
“Last chance to tell me what’s so special about him.” In bed.
“That’s personal, so forget it.”
Knowing there’d be no more Q & A, Arizona said to Marla, “Spoilsport.” And then she waited for Spencer to reach them.
* * *
WHILE ARIZONA ACTED as if nothing had happened, Spencer continued to stew. He didn’t know if she truly lacked all social graces, or if she enjoyed pushing his buttons in any and every way possible.
There’d be hell to pay with Marla. She’d already started to get clingy, and now, seeing Arizona as a direct threat, she’d probably double her efforts.
Just what he didn’t need.
Since losing his wife three years ago, he’d occasionally given in to his baser urges. He was a grown man, and between long bouts of celibacy, he needed relief.
He didn’t fault himself for that.
But giving in to Marla had been a huge mistake. Their close proximity as neighbors was sticky enough; the fact that she had marriage in her eyes should have been the clincher.
Unfortunately, a few months after she’d moved in, she’d caught him at a weak moment, a moment he regretted, and after that…well, he’d slept with her a total of three times.
Idiotic. And regrettable.
But that was all before meeting Arizona, and since meeting her… No, he hadn’t wanted Marla.
Straddling a chair, Arizona watched him intently as he went about cooking dinner. There was a new attentiveness to her gaze that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t understand it.
He didn’t understand her.
They hadn’t said much since he’d more or less dragged her inside—away from Marla—with rushed excuses. He felt her amusement, and it nettled him. He felt her curiosity, and that worried him more.
“Food smells good.”
Standing at the stove turning chops, Spencer glanced back at her. An olive branch? From Arizona? He wasn’t fool enough to reject it.
“Thanks. We would have had steaks on the grill, but—”
“You didn’t want Marla to see us together.” Arizona grinned. “I get it.” She lifted her hand as if shooting a gun. “The lady’s got you in her sights and she’s taking aim.”
The microwave dinged, so he took out the potatoes. “Marla misunderstands the situation.”
“Nah, I don’t think so. She knows you’re not hooked yet, or she wouldn’t be so insecure about things.” Snorting, Arizona added, “I can’t believe you told her we slept together.”
His neck stiffened. “It was as good an excuse as any.”
“Yeah, maybe. But now she knows better.”
Going still, Spencer swallowed a groan. “You told her?” Marla would likely ramp up her efforts if she knew the truth.
“Not really on purpose.” Arizona’s gaze was so intent, it burned him.
He split the potatoes and dropped in butter. He almost hated to ask, but… “How does that conversation accidentally happen?”
“When she found out I wasn’t going all she-devil over the idea of you boinking her, she said she knew.” Nonchalantly, Arizona added, “Something about you being such a stud-muffin in the sack that if I’d ever had a taste of what you have to offer, I’d be fighting tooth and nail to keep it all to myself.”
Heat crawled up his neck. “That’s baloney.”
“Hey, she said it, not me. I was notably skeptical.”
Figured. “Questioned my prowess, huh?”
“She didn’t really mention your, er, prowess. She just said you’re well hung.”
He damn near dropped the plate of potatoes. Slowly, he turned his head to stare at her.
Unfazed, Arizona asked, “Wouldn’t that just make things more unpleasant?”
Oh, God. No way was he prepared for this conversation. Later, maybe. After he’d had time to formulate what to say, how to reassure her. How to approach the conversation in a detached, casual… Who was he kidding?
He couldn’t discuss the size of his junk with her. Not ever.
He cleared his throat and turned back to his food prep. “Just like women, to stand around gossiping.” He could only imagine Marla’s reaction to Arizona and her uncensored ways.
“You know, I asked her for specifics, but she wouldn’t share.”
He jerked around to face her again. “You asked Marla for details about me in bed with her?”
Arizona shrugged. “She made me curious with all her moony-eyed, drooling enthusiasm.”
Curious was…maybe good. Better than fear. He considered her candor, her ease in talking to him about such private things. That had to be a sign of trust, didn’t it?
Brightening, Arizona said, “You’re thinking of telling me?”
He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t tell her a thing—not yet anyway. “Maybe later.”
“Why wait?”
He turned off the stove. “Dinner is almost ready.”
She frowned but said, “Good, because I’m starved.”
Thank God for the safer subject. “When did you last eat?”
“I don’t know.”
Never the expected answer from Arizona. One day he’d get used to that. If he knew her long enough, which was doubtful. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I had a candy bar around lunchtime.”
“Nothing since then?”
She shook her head.
“What’d you have for breakfast?”
“Coffee with you.”
His head started to pound. “Dinner the night before?”
She thought about it, then shook her head again.
Frustration edged in. “Why would you not eat?”
“I just forget sometimes.” She left her chair and approached the stove. “Can I do anything to help get the show on the road here? My stomach is growling.”
While she sniffed the pork chops, Spencer looked at the top of her head, at the shiny dark hair, the crooked part. Everything about her seemed endearing.
If a hedgehog could be endearing. “You can set the table if you want.”
“Sure thing.” Bumping him with her hip, she grinned and said, “A proper place setting is one of the things I learned in the school that Jackson sent me to. But I’m guessing you’re more into informality, right?”
“Casual works for me.” After first meeting Arizona, he’d tried to look up her background but found very little. He assumed Jackson was responsible for keeping her off the grid; it was how that elite trio worked. The less info out there, the better they liked it.
It fascinated Spencer, watching Arizona move around his kitchen, seeing her go on tiptoe to reach into cabinets. She’d again left her sneakers by the front door, and her bare feet were narrow, cute. Slender hands, small wrists.
So fundamentally female—but such a live wire and always unpredictable.
Hoping to sound cavalier, he said, “Tell me about the school.”
With no sign of offense, she said, “It was this exclusive all-girl finishing school. Real hoity-toity.” She flashed him another grin. “Not exactly my speed, but Jackson paid through the nose, so they were always nice.”
Spencer stared at her. Good God, they still had those? “You’re serious?”
“Sure.” Carrying two plates to the table, Arizona said, “I mean, no one looking for me would have thought to find me there, right?”
“I can’t imagine finding any young lady there.” But Arizona? In a structured routine meant to stuff societal rules down her throat? “What was it like?”
“Just an education, and a few classes on things like—” She swept her hand over the table. “Etiquette. Not that this setting really counts, but you get my drift.”
“You went along with that?”
“Why not? The idea was sort of twofold. I figured I could learn how to blend in, and though he didn’t say it, Jackson figured he’d have me locked down and out of trouble.” She shook her head with some fond memory. “Jackson can be a real card.”
Jackson had his sympathy. Teasing, Spencer asked, “Were you getting into trouble even then?”
She paused, made a face. “I think mostly he wanted me out of his apartment because I came on to him.”
Flattened, Spencer stood there, mute.
Arizona glanced at him. “Dumb, huh?”
“I never…” He shook himself. “You…?”
“Snap out of it, Spence. Sheesh, I didn’t expect you to get all tongue-tied over sex.”
“Sex?” Had she slept with Jackson then? A red haze gathered in his vision. That son of a—
“Keep up, will you?” She rolled her eyes. “I offered, Jackson refused, and then he was different. Maybe uncomfortable. How should I know?”
“He refused?”
Sighing, a little dreamy, Arizona said softly, “Yeah, he did.”
Suddenly he understood. “You thought to repay him, didn’t you?”
“No. Well…maybe.” She made a face. “Something like that, I guess. But Jackson had this heart-to-heart with me, and he was…kind.”
So kind that he’d packed her off to a stuffy school where she wouldn’t fit in? “Yeah, he’s a prince.”
“I know.” Still wearing that small smile, she said, “I suggested going to a school, but I didn’t expect that school. I just wanted to not be dumb, you know? But we talked about it, and I liked the idea.” She flashed him a look. “I had no idea it’d cost so much, though.”
“Jackson paid for it all?”
“Yeah. Insane, huh?” Going back to the cabinets for tableware, she said, “The way that guy blows money—”
“Think of it as an investment in your future.” If he hadn’t met Jackson, if he didn’t know him as an honorable man in love with a different woman, Spencer might have been a little jealous. Not that he had the right. Not that he even wanted to think along those lines.
But knowing that Arizona had once offered herself to the other man, he couldn’t deny the twinge of resentment. Jackson had done the right thing in turning her down.
And when the time came, he would do the right thing, too. He would do what was best for her.
“That’s almost exactly what Jackson said.”
After stirring the steamed vegetables one more time, Spencer put them in a bowl and carried them to the table. He dropped a potato and one chop on Arizona’s plate, then his own.
He had a lot more questions, but he also wanted to feed her. “What would you like to drink?”
“Milk would be good.”
Why that surprised him, he couldn’t say. “Milk it is.” As he filled her glass, he asked, “So you liked the school?”
“It was okay.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except that they tattled a lot. Their loyalty was to Jackson. I mean, he paid, so that makes sense. But still, I couldn’t even dodge out for a day or two without them telling him.”
Keeping himself in check, Spencer asked, “Why did you dodge out?”
“I get restless.” She eyed her food with significance.
He joined her at the table with a glass of iced tea. “Go ahead. Dig in.”
She surprised him again by showing impeccable manners. She put her napkin in her lap, cut a small piece of her pork chop, chewed quietly.
He took great pleasure in watching her. “Good?”
“Mmm. Delicious.” Her bright gaze went over him. “Sex, cooking, kicking as—er, butt. Is there anything you aren’t good at?”
“Good catch.” She’d almost cursed—and then she would have owed him that kiss. Refusing to acknowledge his disappointment, Spencer forked up a big bite of buttered baked potato. “Don’t take Marla’s word on the sex. As for kicking butt, I can hold my own, but I’ve gotten my fair share of bruises.”
“And modest, too.” She finished another bite. “Why shouldn’t I take Marla’s word?”
“You said it yourself, she has me in her sights. Wouldn’t do her much good to insult me, now, would it?”
“I guess not. But it was more than that. She made it sound like you were something special. Something more than—”
“So…” Finding it prudent to interrupt, Spencer asked, “What did you mean by blending in?”
She stalled, then her slender shoulder rolled. “What did I know of polite society? Even before I got caught up with the traffickers, my family was not what you’d call normal.”
“What would you call them?” he asked gently.
“Hmm. Well, my momma was mostly okay, I guess, except that she drank too often, and she put up with daddy and his cronies. And I can’t tell you much about my dad since I can’t curse.” She grinned. “Let’s just say he wouldn’t win any awards for father of the year.”
“That leaves open a whole lot of possibilities.”
“Yeah, well, figure the worst, and that was my father.” She lifted her glass of milk in salute.
The worst was…awful. But then, he’d already guessed as much.
She didn’t give him time to sympathize. “After the traffickers had me, well, you know how it goes. You get the bare minimum of everything.”
Minimum care, shelter…and food. His heart hurt. “No milk?”
“Not unless a customer gave it to me. And then I always figured it might be drugged or something. There was no real contact with the outside world except during a deal, so I had no way of staying up on current affairs. In other words, I was dumber than a rock, uneducated, uncouth… Even you noticed the way I talk, right?”
Guilt swamped him. The last thing she needed from him was criticism. “I know you choose to be coarse, honey. It’s not that you don’t know any other way.”
“Because Jackson sent me to that school. End of story.”
But it wasn’t and he knew it. “You are far from dumb.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Because she had her last bite of food in her mouth, she just nodded.
He wanted to ask her if she’d finished the school, if she’d gotten a degree, but he feared the answer. When the opportunity presented itself, he’d ask Jackson. “All done?”
She sat back in her seat with a sigh. “That was great. Thanks. I can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me. Maybe Jackson, but that would have been before the school.”
“Your mother cooked?”
She laughed but cut it off real quick. “Not really, no.”
Pushing his plate aside and crossing his arms on the table, Spencer asked the question burning in his mind. “How did the traffickers get you?”
“You really want to hear this?”
More than anything, he wanted her to trust him. He had to think that confiding in someone else would help ease the pain she carried inside. “If you don’t mind telling me.”
“It’s not like it’s a secret. Well, I mean it is, to most people. But not to anyone who already knows me and what I do, and that I was…”
Spencer waited for her to wind down.
Bravado in place, she smirked at him. “My daddy traded me to them for drugs.”
Leveled by a dozen different emotions, most prominently rage and pity, Spencer swallowed twice. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen.” She chewed her bottom lip, lost in thought. “The older I got, the more his buddies noticed. I heard a few lewd suggestions, stuff said sort of as a joke—but not really, know what I mean?”
“Yes.” Bastards.
“I sort of grew into my looks. Pretty soon, they weren’t joking anymore.”
Jesus. He knew how it worked; human trafficking wouldn’t be profitable without buyers. But still, with it so personal, fury left him sick at heart. “Your father knew them?” Knew what they’d do with her? It couldn’t get more personal than that.
“Yeah, he knew. I think he admired them for forcing girls into prostitution.” Her lip curled. “The sick pricks.”
“What about your mother?”
Arizona shrugged. “She let him get away with a lot, including using some of the other girls, even though she knew their situation. But I guess selling me off was too much for her.” She looked down at her fork. “Unfortunately, when she tried to stop them, they killed her.”
Jesus. And that meant her father would have been a loose end. Already knowing the answer, Spencer asked, “They killed your father, too?” Had she seen it all?
“They did, and I was glad.”
So she’d had no one—not that her folks had been much to count on anyway. He had to focus on the fact that she’d eventually escaped. “How’d you get away?”
“After more than a month, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew if I ran they’d try to kill me, but…” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I was pretty much dead anyway, you know?”
He had nothing to say to that.
“We were at a truck stop, about to make a transaction, but when I saw a female trucker in an idling semi, I figured that might be my only chance.”
“You asked her for help?”
“Get real. I didn’t have time for pleasantries.” Her lips tilted in a half smile. “That poor woman. I ran over and jumped in her cab. My heart was pumping so fast and I was nearly hysterical. I locked the passenger door, and then I screamed right into her face—drive, drive, drive. Luckily for me…she did.”
