Читать книгу Warrior For One Night - Nancy Gideon - Страница 7

Sipping the bottled water that came with his delivered meal, Xander leaned back on the bank of pillows he’d wedged against the backboard of his bed. He was wearing only his suit pants, needing the chill of the climate-controlled air against his bare chest and feet to keep his weary senses sharp. He opened his file and spread the reports across the bedspread to give them closer study. He had them memorized, but there was always the chance that he’d missed something. The way he had that afternoon.

His pilot wasn’t what he’d expected and he didn’t like to be surprised. Mel Parrish should have been a man. When she’d told him her name, he’d been knocked off balance, with all his preconceptions askew. The quick glimpse he’d dared take of her while scrambling for his composure revealed the worst. Young, attractive, female. How had those facts gotten under his radar? Need-to-know facts to a man who prided himself on details.

Her being a woman opened up a whole different avenue upon which to discover what he needed to know. But it didn’t change the facts in the file.

He was tracking an arsonist for hire. One who lit a torch for the insurance money. One who either used or created fires to cover his fraudulent activity. In the past seven years, Western Mutual Insurance had paid out in the billions for properties that went up in smoke. The policy owners all had something in common—a serious financial glitch that was solved by the influx of cash. Cash handed over by Western Mutual because they couldn’t prove any wrongdoing. And that made them decidedly displeased.

That’s where Xander came in.

He was the best there was at what he did. Meticulous, relentless, ruthless. He’d made his reputation on those three things. And upon his track record of always uncovering the truth. That’s how he could demand the price he did. A sometimes hard-to-swallow percentage of the policy payout. Money they would otherwise kiss goodbye. Money that didn’t really matter to him. It was the process and the end result that he enjoyed. He liked the challenge and he had to win. That’s why the companies came to him with the cases they couldn’t solve themselves.

For five years, he’d immersed himself in the minds and means of those who thought to cheat the system. He’d start with the obvious. Who had the most to gain? Then he’d follow the money. He didn’t work in an office, not after the first phase of investigation. He excelled in the field. Blending into the lives of those who thought to get away with a payout they didn’t deserve. He’d get close, he’d become their friend, their partner, their confidant and sooner or later, every time, they’d slip up and he’d have them. Infinite patience was its own reward.

Only in this case, the reward wasn’t his hefty fee.

Restless with his lack of progress, he set aside his handwritten notes and made a call on his cell. He made it a practice of never using traceable land lines. There wasn’t much he trusted, except the person who answered his call of “I’m in.” And the response was the one he’d been waiting to hear.

“Got another e-mail. We’re talking money. It’s showtime.”

Xander smiled thinly, trying not to react to the sudden lunge of anticipation. The chase was on. “Don’t be stingy, but don’t be too eager. We don’t want to scare him off.”

“Hey, don’t tell me how to deal with criminals, pal. It’s what I do.”

Kyle D’Angelo was a security expert. They’d gone to prep school then college together. He was the one friend Xander could claim with no strings attached, with no what’s-in-it-for-me agenda. He was the one person who’d suffered him as a fool, who’d seen him at his lowest and hadn’t turned away. Money couldn’t sway him. Hard times hadn’t discouraged him. During the wild years, he wasn’t the one Xander called to bail him out of a tight spot. Because Kyle would be there seated at his side saying, “Damn, that was fun.” He was the closest thing Xander had left to family. And it was Kyle who’d brought him the precious lead he’d been searching for for five frustrating years.

His call came out of the blue. Always happy to hear from him, Xander hadn’t expected the reason to be business. Cut-right-to-the-soul-of-him business. Kyle was installing security in Lake Tahoe at a posh resort/casino whose owners had gotten a little too lean in the pocket to complete the astronomical renovations they’d started. They’d been contacted a month ago. A terse e-mail from an undisclosed sender. The message was brief.

I can make your money troubles go away.

At the first hint at rising from the ashes with the insurance money, Kyle had placed the call that he knew would mean everything to his best friend. Then he had used his resources to help Xander get next to his prime suspect.

“You just let me know when you’re ready to set the trap.”

“Not just yet. I need some time to make sure we’re stalking the right game.” A discomforting truth. For the first time, when the stakes were their highest, he was going on the hunt woefully unprepared. He had only the rudimentary research done, and while that told him he was using the right bait, he didn’t know what he was going to catch. He was after a trophy. Something he could tack up on his wall with an infinite satisfaction. But the catch wasn’t the reward he was after. Not even close.

“I’ll be waiting,” D’Angelo promised. “Your call.”

A cold linear sense of purpose shivered through Xander the way the air-conditioning hadn’t been able to. Just a few short steps left to take. To be sure. This one he couldn’t let escape because he’d taken shortcuts. And the payoff would be sweet revenge.

And thinking of sweet derailed his train of thought.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mel Parrish was a woman?”

There was a pause, then D’Angelo gave a nonplussed laugh. “I didn’t think it would make a difference. Does it?”

Xander drew up a mental picture of Mel Parrish in the enticingly curved flight suit, of her boldly angular face, flashing dark eyes and sassy mouth. And that untamed mass of red hair. He shut his eyes, canceling out the image.

“No, of course not.”

Kyle D’Angelo chuckled. “She’s hot—she must be, to rattle a monk like you.”

How could D’Angelo tell he was rattled from that one concise sentence? But then Kyle knew him better than he knew himself. And, unfortunately, he was right. Xander tightened down the screws on the press of his emotions and vowed, “It won’t matter.”

“I’m sure it won’t. Not with that gift you’ve got.”

Because it sounded like some kind of unpleasant disease, Xander frowned. “What gift is that?”

“You have an amazing gift of blankness, my friend. Slick. Smooth. Nonabsorbing. Nothing gets to you with your nonstick coating. It just slides right off. I don’t know if I envy that or not. It makes you kind of a scary guy.”

Xander tried to laugh it off but couldn’t. Was that what he was? Was that what he’d become?

“Thanks a hell of a lot, Kyle.”

And because D’Angelo knew him so well, he caught the hint of something unexpected behind that mocking sentiment. He’d somehow managed to wound his usually stoic friend.

“It was a compliment. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“No danger of that since apparently I don’t have any.”

He could picture D’Angelo’s grin at having provoked the cynical response. And his own dark mood gave a notch as he managed a small smile.

“Thought you might have lost your sense of humor there for a minute.”

“Misplaced it, perhaps.” He pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the tension headache that was building from a distant rumbling to fearsome thunderheads. “I had to pack light for this trip. It wasn’t a must-have item.”

“Don’t leave home without it, bud. It’s the all-purpose Rx.” Predictably, Kyle shifted into life counselor mode to offer his one prescription for everything. “When was the last time you kicked your shoes off?”

He wiggled his bare toes. “They’re off right now.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. You need to get a life, bud. All work and no play.”

“Makes Xander a scary guy. I know.”

“And I know the remedy. Leave everything to Dr. D’Angelo. What say we just take the weekend off. Zip up to Colorado to your mom’s condo. Hit the clubs, jump in a hot tub with some lonely lovelies, cigars and a fifth of your choice and enjoy a total hedonistic orgy. How does that sound?”

“Like we were frat boys again.” He was smiling, imagining it. Kyle drew lonely ladies and hedonistic good times like a bacchanalian magnet.

“Tell me you’re not tempted.”

Tempted, yes. Because he couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a break. He’d been wound so tight for so long, he wasn’t sure he could loosen up the notch it would take to be a suitable companion for fun. Not because he didn’t need it, but because he didn’t deserve it. Especially now.

“I’ll have to pass,” he said softly, without true regret. “Maybe when this is over.”

He heard Kyle’s resigned sigh, knowing his friend hadn’t really expected any other answer. “It’s never over with you.”

“If this pans out, it will be.”

Then maybe he could take a breather. Now, it was hard to even think of having a good time when he knew others didn’t have the luxury. For some, there were no breaks, no willing ladies, no hot tubs. That’s why he had to work harder and stay focused. Kyle may not like it, but he did understand it. Because he knew why his friend was a scary guy.

“Keep in touch, bud. Be careful. We’ll nail this one down for you. Anything I can do, anything, you let me know.”

A huge knot of gratitude interfered with his immediate response. When he was able to give it, the words came out all rough and raw. “I appreciate it, Kyle. More than you know.”

Uncomfortable with the thought of his sincerity, D’Angelo shifted back to a light touch. “So Mel Parrish is a woman. And she’s hot. No wonder you’re so grouchy. If I were you, I’d be thinking about on-the-job perks.”

“Goodbye, Kyle.”

He was smiling as he flipped the phone shut. Then his mouth narrowed into a thin, hard line. Mel Parrish wasn’t a perk. She was a puzzle piece. And finding out where she fit in was his reason for sitting alone in a hotel room in Reno.

A monk. A surprisingly apt description. There was a time when he’d never have spent a night in a hotel room alone with only work and late-night television for company. But not being alone didn’t necessarily mean not being lonely. Surrounding himself with a crowd only brought that home with a more painful clarity. So he took a step back from that party-hardy set who had no cares, no worries, no real depth of purpose. All those who had once courted him for his name, his contacts and his fortune, the men who wanted him to buy them drinks and invest in their projects, the women who wanted to hang on his arm to get their pictures in the entertainment news. All those frivolous, fun people who had abandoned him at that first dark whisper of scandal. He’d didn’t miss them. He didn’t need their shallow company. For what he was doing, the isolation served him best. It kept him lean, mean and dangerously determined. But it made for long, lonely nights.

Perhaps that was why Mel Parrish left him shaken, not stirred.

Business casual or escort service.

He grinned wide at the brazenness of that remark. Hooker clothes couldn’t look more enticing than that one-piece zippered distraction. Every curve seemed shaped to fit his hands. And the suddenly damp state of his palms made him aware of just how long he’d been celibate. Too long to remember the circumstance or participant. He told himself that was the reason for his unwise attraction. But he knew he was lying. It was the woman, herself not his reclusive state. It was her eyes, that bold-as-brass-tacks stare that let him know in unblinking terms that he was being an ass. No one, other than Kyle, had dared do that for a very long time. And damned if it didn’t impress him.

A brisk slap of realization startled him from his half smile and simmering musings. What was he thinking?

Back to business. Time was short and he had work to do.

Beneath the official insurance file was a thin folder that held the pain of his past. It contained three meager documents—a fire investigation, an arrest report and a trial transcript. The impossibly weak foundation upon which he’d been struggling to erect the means to escape his shame.

He didn’t want to be impressed by Mel Parrish.

He wanted to put her and her family in prison.