Smart and Sexy

by Jill Shalvis

  haven’t been answering your cell.”

  “I’ve been out of range.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s unhappy that you managed to lose Bailey’s protective tail for her. I guess some of those guys you’ve been ditching were the good guys. He’s frantic to talk to you.”

  Noah’s gut couldn’t possibly clench any tighter. “Does he have Bailey?”

  “No, and he wasn’t happy to realize you don’t either. He says, and I quote, ‘if anything happens to her, I’m coming after you and kicking your ass.’ He’s fed, Noah. He’s working to nail Alan’s investment partners. They’re trying to get them for fraud, extortion, and a whole long list of other stuff.”

  “Why didn’t he say so sooner?”

  “He was under cover and trying to protect Bailey at the same time, without tipping off the bad guys.”

  “Well, he did a hell of a job of that, didn’t he?” Noah looked at Shayne. “I think I underestimated the brother.”

  “I hate it when that happens.”

  Noah’s head hurt. “Can you work your magic and patch him through to me?” he asked Maddie.

  “Stand by.”

  What else could he do. “Shit.”

  “You know, we probably don’t pay her enough,” Shayne said.

  “Brody says we pay her a fortune already.”

  “Brody can kiss my ass,” Maddie said. “But you’re damn-A straight I’m worth every penny. Oh, and I’ve got him. Kenny? Go ahead.”

  “Noah?” Kenny sounded extremely uptight and extremely unhappy. “Where is she?”

  Noah’s gut tightened at the unmistakable sound of fear and worry in Kenny’s voice. “That was my question for you.”

  “She was with you at the airport. I saw you.”

  “They came for her in Baja. At the time, I thought it was you.”

  “No. Jesus, I’m on her side. I’m her brother!”

  “But your text messages—”

  “Shit. Are you the one who made her suddenly stop trusting me and suspect me instead?”

  Noah opened his mouth, then shut it, because yes, that had been him.

  “I thought she was safe with you, man. Or I’d have—”

  “What?” Noah said. “Come clean and told her the truth? You should have done that anyway!”

  “Yes, but they had to know for sure…”

  When he trailed off, Noah’s blood ran cold. “Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute. You thought…you actually thought she might be in on it?”

  “I didn’t, but they needed proof—”

  “Okay, you listen very carefully,” Noah said, feeling extremely violent. “You screwed this up by not trusting her and telling her the truth at any time since Alan’s death. You could have protected her better. You could have believed in her. If you had, none of this would have happened.”

  Kenny let out a breath. “I know.”

  “Here’s how to repay her. You meet that plane with every single resource you have, making damn well and sure she’s not harmed in the process—”

  “Yeah, except we can’t. We need her to lead us to the money—”

  “Jesus. Jesus Christ,” Noah breathed. “You’re using her as bait.”

  “Not me,” Kenny said tightly. “Believe me, this is not what I wanted, but we need to catch these guys in the act. So just tell me exactly where they’re taking her, and I’ll make sure this thing has a happy ending.”

  “What? How can you be sure of that? You haven’t managed to protect her so far.”

  “I was doing a damn fine job until you turned her on me.”

  Yeah. Shit.

  Noah looked at Shayne, who paused in the middle of his landing preparation and nodded. Trust him. Do this.

  Noah didn’t want to. He wanted to be the one to haul her into his arms and know she was safe, damn it.

  He let out a tight breath. “They’re going to the Burbank house.”

  “But that place was already searched, way back after Alan’s death.”

  “For hidden safes?”

  “No, but that house is on the market, people have been in and out of there—”

  “It’s still furnished, isn’t it? With artwork included?”

  Kenny swore softly. “I can be there in thirty minutes, with backup.”

  Noah looked at Shayne, who nodded grimly. They could be there in thirty minutes as well. “Meet you there,” Noah said, and hung up. “I really didn’t see that coming. He’s on the good side. Jesus, Shayne, we’re going to run out of fuel at this speed.”

  “You wanted to haul ass, I’m hauling ass.”

  “At least it’s not Brody. He flies like a woman.”

  Shayne looked pained. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll kick your ass.”

  Chapter 25

  Bailey woke up with a monster headache and a horrible groggy sensation that reminded her of a bad hangover. Worse, she’d believed she couldn’t get any more terrified, but despite the fact that they’d left her alone on the plane, she knew that wasn’t going to last long.

  They took her from the private jet to yet another dark SUV, and though she’d thought she’d scream real loud and gain some unwanted attention for her captors, she never saw another soul. Even if she had, she felt so weak and discombobulated, she couldn’t have worked up enough strength to scream.

  They drove to the Burbank house. How ironic, she thought as they brought her inside, to be back here where it’d all begun. It seemed like years ago since she’d packed a bag and walked away from this life. In fact, it’d only been barely a week.

  And only three days since she’d brought Noah into the mix. At the thought of him, her heart clenched hard.

  She was shoved into the living room, and with her legs so weak, she went flying, falling against a bookshelf. At the impact, books rained down over the top of her. She sat there on the floor, dazed, taking in the design that Alan had picked out, and the cool, modern furniture he’d loved so much but was so damned uncomfortable it was all like sitting on a cactus. He’d loved this place, and for the fortune he’d spent having it decorated, he should.

  Precious.

  I’ve kept it all safe, Precious.

  The words mocked her now, bouncing around in her brain. Or maybe that was the drugs…

  The money was here. She knew that with a certainty.

  “Now.” Stephen walked up to her, his toes nearly touching hers, looked down his long, straight nose at her. “Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ding, ding, wrong answer.”

  His two goons bent and dragged her to her feet, then stood on either side of her, holding her up. They had no choice; her legs were noodles. One of her arms hurt from the needle they’d jammed into it. Her belly was quivering from the first time they’d done this whole talk-to-me thing, and now that she’d had a taste, she shook with fear and the need to throw up. “If I knew exactly where,” she said, “I’d have found it by now.”

  “So you lied before, when you said you knew.”

  Oh, God. Not good. “I said I could find it, and I will.” This was another lie, and her voice quavered just a little bit. Please don’t notice…

  The man nodded thoughtfully, then stepped forward and without warning slid his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. “Tell me the truth,” he said softly, almost kindly. “Or I will have both your brother and the man who’s been flying you around hunted and killed.” He looked directly into her eyes and smiled. “Like Alan.”

  Then he stepped back, and nodded to the men to release her.

  She slid to the floor.

  They all looked down at her, waiting.

  I’ve kept it all safe, Precious. Precious. The name of this house. Safe.

  It would be in the safe in the bedroom behind the large framed print over their bed upstairs. She knew that now.

  She realized she should have known it sooner, as in soon enough to save her own ass. Because now she h
ad no doubt that if she handed over the money, the need to keep her alive became slim and none. In fact, she’d become an instant detriment.

  Stall. Noah is moving hell and high water to get here. She knew it.

  “Mrs. Sinclair, you’ve kept us waiting long enough.”

  On legs that shook, she managed to stand, then realized her head was clearing. But playing it up a little, she staggered a few feet. Immediately, the two goons moved in to help her.

  “Where to?” Stephen asked.

  “Upstairs.”

  She’d no sooner said the words than they assisted her up the stairs.

  In the hallway, she considered her next move.

  “Mrs. Sinclair,” Stephen said smoothly. “You’re trying my patience.” He flicked his wrist, and a blade flashed before her eyes, settling against her throat.

  “Master bedroom,” she said tightly.

  They dragged her there. Over the bed was the large print. She walked to the mattress, and one of the men snickered. “Look, she wants us.”

  “Shut up,” Stephen said. “Mrs. Sinclair?”

  “There’s a safe. Beneath that picture. Maybe…”

  He moved past her, pulled the picture down and smiled at the wall safe. “Nicely done. Combination?”

  She hesitated.

  Once again the goons moved in to her sides. “Sixty-nine, sixty-nine.”

  More snickers from the goons. Stephen just looked at Bailey, then without a word turned to the safe.

  Bailey held her breath.

  The safe clicked open, revealing the inside, which was loaded with cash. Bailey stared at the unbelievable sight of the stacks and stacks of bills.

  Stephen clicked his fingers, and one of the goons produced a large duffle bag, which they filled while Bailey just stood there, shocked.

  Alan had really had the money.

  He’d really stolen from his own investors, never mind that they were all thieves, too. “Okay then,” she said with forced joviality. “So you guys can go now.”

  Stephen looked at his men, jerked his head in her direction, and walked out of the room.

  The two goons looked at her and smiled. Leered, really.

  Her insides shriveled.

  Once again they moved in close, one on either side, and took her arms.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said, trying to pull free. “Really. I’m good.”

  They laughed, then headed out of the room, toward the stairs, taking her with them. Her heart was racing, and so was her brain. She figured all she had to do was push one of them down the stairs, grab the other’s gun, and then shoot them.

  No problem.

  Ahead, Stephen was on the phone. Once again he jerked his head in their direction. Apparently this was yet another wordless command because they immediately halted while Stephen ran down the stairs to take his call in privacy.

  Both goons were breathing like a St. Bernard, and drooling like one, too, as they stared at her. She realized in the various scuffles since getting out of the SUV, her dress had slipped off one shoulder. She quickly scooped it back into place.

  One of them nudged it back off with the tip of his gun, which pretty much made breathing impossible.

  “Still dizzy, Hot Thing?” he asked.

  What if his gun went off by accident?

  The other thug took out his gun, too, and played with the collar of her dress. An involuntary squeak of terror left her lips.

  They liked that.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to make eye contact with either of them.

  “She’s scared,” one of them whispered, and trailed the tip of his gun over her breast, lingering at her nipple.

  “Yeah. Think she’s scared enough to do whatever we say?” The other slipped the tip of his gun along Bailey’s waist.

  The steel was icy even through her garment.

  “Hey. Boss is still busy. Let’s take her into one of the downstairs bedrooms. She’s still pretty loopy—”

  The other goon grinned. “Yeah.”

  Stephen was still gone. She didn’t know where, but she was completely on her own. They were going to rape her, and then kill her. They’d each gripped an arm when she heard an odd thunk from below, and with it came the softest sound, almost…a sigh. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of—a beat-up leather jacket?

  Noah?

  Her head spun, making her realize she was still dealing with the effects of the drugs they’d given her. Then she saw another movement, in the doorway to the kitchen, and she’d have sworn on her life it was Kenny.

  Noah and Kenny together…But if she was hallucinating, then maybe she could dream up some superhuman strength to go with it. Drugs did that to people; she saw it on Cops all the time, stupid people fighting the police officers without a care.

  She’d fight.

  Thug Number One, the guy just above her on the stairs, was looking at his cell phone. Big mistake for him because she’d just morphed into the Bionic Woman. Whirling to the other, she jammed her knee right into his crotch. She’d seen this done in the movies, and truthfully, had never really believed a woman could drop a guy to the floor, but that was exactly what happened.

  He dropped like a stone, tumbling down the stairs, hitting each one with a thud and an “oomph.” The duffle bag went with him, breaking open at the halfway point. Money flew through the air like confetti, floating slowly to the ground as the man landed, then slid into the foyer—just as the shadow that she’d seen, the one with her brother’s face, pointed a gun at the guy’s chest and said, “Don’t move.”

  Bailey turned to the other thug, and once again saw that flash of beat-up old leather jacket, now at the top of the stairs, above them.

  Huh?

  Her hallucination-in-leather executed an impressive round-house kick to the goon’s chest, who went sailing. He hit the stair railing, which cracked and shattered. With a scream, he continued his sail through the air, landing on the hardwood floor ten feet below with a groan.

  Kenny…my God, it really was Kenny…stood down there between the two thugs with a rather shockingly serious looking gun. “Got ’em,” he called up just as Bailey felt two strong, warm, almost unbearably familiar arms encircle her.

  “And I’ve got you,” Noah said fiercely, hugging her close. He sank to the stairs with her in his arms. “I’ve got you.”

  “There’s still Stephen—”

  “Got him, too. He’s unconscious in the foyer.”

  She cupped his face to make sure he was real. “I thought I dreamed you.” She said this without letting go of him, because she was never going to let go of him again. “I thought…”