Explosive (The Black Opals)

by St. Claire, Tori

  He shook his head, held up his index finger.

  Fine. She’d wait. In addition to all the other work waiting for her, she needed to sift through her file cabinet and organize everything in the event she found herself facing a subpoena later today. It would come, it was just a matter of when.

  She entered her office, tossed her purse on the desk, and pulled open a long metal drawer. No sooner than it had stopped squeaking, Brice’s footsteps crossed the Berber carpeting. “Morning, sweetness.”

  She flashed him a warm smile. “Morning to you. What happened to the door?”

  “Ah, yeah…about that.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “Somebody tried to break in last night. Something scared them off.”

  Break in? Her brain locked on the phrase, and her gaze slid uneasily to the thick files that filled the drawer. Parker maybe? Trying to collect the files he subtly suggested she lose? “Good thing we put an alarm on last year.”

  “Well…” Brice pushed off the frame and stuffed his hands inside his pockets. He kicked the toe of his shoe into the carpet. “That’s the thing. It didn’t go off.”

  Alyssa blinked. “How could it not go off? I set it last night. I’m certain it was armed.”

  Brice shook his head. “No idea.”

  “Someone had to have turned it off.”

  “How? You and I are the only ones who know the code.”

  “No…” she said thoughtfully as she reached into the drawer and plucked out a file. “I’m pretty sure you gave it to Parker last fall when he’d forgotten what his first quarter claims were.”

  Brice chuckled. “We changed it after that, sweetness. Remember? We set it off twice trying to get it done?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Then who would have been messing with the alarm? And better yet—what scared them off? From the damaged frame, if they’d worked a little longer, they’d have knocked the deadbolt loose as well as the knob. Unease filtered through her veins. “We need a steel door, Brice. I don’t like it. Not with the way Parker has been acting lately.”

  “Neither do I.” He turned and crossed to the coffee pot, where he poured two mugs. As he added cream and sugar to his, he continued, “Jayce said he was in security. I asked him to come by and take a look at things.”

  “Jayce?” She nearly screeched his name. One hand frozen over a file folder tab, she stared at Brice’s broad shoulders, incredulous. “Why would you call him? He’ll be leaving soon. There are plenty of good security firms in Denver.”

  A mocking grin lifted the corner of Brice’s mouth. “But he’s free.”

  “Please tell me he didn’t agree.” This so wasn’t happening. Jayce couldn’t be coming here, when she had a nightmare on her hands.

  When Brice merely stared into his coffee cup, silent, her pulse jumped several intervals.

  “Brice. Tell me Jayce isn’t coming here.”

  He shrugged and headed back toward his office. “Okay. He’s not coming here.”

  She followed on his heels. “Brice! I don’t want him here!”

  Sliding around to his chair, he gave into a slow grin. “Why not? It might help you make your mind up about what I suggested.”

  No. Jayce couldn’t be here in her office. This was her space, her one place where the world didn’t exist, where she was absolutely certain of who and what she was. Worse, she couldn’t think when Jayce was around. Because he teased her with memories of a past she’d tried to put behind her. Because she lost control every time he was ten feet away.

  Damn it. This reeked of a set-up, like Brice was pushing her in Jayce’s direction.

  She turned away with a harassed sigh. “You should have consulted with me. This is my office too. I’d rather have someone local evaluate our security system. Someone who will be around when it breaks.”

  “I didn’t think he was the one who disappeared, was he?” Low and calculated Brice’s voice filled her head.

  Dumbfounded that he would pull such a low blow, Alyssa spun on him, prepared to give him an earful he wouldn’t forget. He knew why she’d never gone to Chicago. He’d been the one to help pull her out of a drunken abyss that would have certainly led to her own self-destruction. Brice had no right to throw her past in her face.

  A sharp rap on the door, however, stilled the words that hovered on the tip of her tongue. Before either of them could call out, the door swung open. Two uniformed members of Boulder’s finest stepped inside.

  A short, pudgy officer pulled off his sunglasses and squinted at her. “Alyssa Martin?”

  Tamping back a groan, she nodded.

  “We need to talk to you for a moment, ma’am.”

  Great. Just what she needed to start her day—Jayce and the cops at the same damned time. She should have slid through the light and hit the van. If nothing else, a traffic incident would have kept her from being here right now. With another harassed sigh, she waved them into her office, shut the door, and sat down behind her desk. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

  “We need to ask you a few questions about James Parker.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  * * *

  Jayce nosed into the long driveway to McTavish’s office, acutely aware of the ostentatious setting. Too many years of sniffing bombs and sniffing out rats set his instincts on high alert. No one tucked a high-powered criminal attorney into a secluded cottage on several dozen acres of land.

  Not unless he or she wanted to hide his lawyer.

  What in the hell had McTavish gotten himself into this time?

  Jayce shouldn’t be surprised—trouble followed Brice like flies followed cows. But he wasn’t stupid, and he’d had some consent in this arrangement. Hells bells, Clarke would have fits if he knew Jayce was here, about to put his criminal knowledge to use for something that couldn’t possibly be good.

  He shifted into second and rolled into the parking lot. An unmarked police car sat closest to the door, evidenced by the numerical municipality plate. Fucking perfect. If he were smart, he’d turn around and come back later. Or not come back at all.

  But he’d given his word, and he didn’t go back on promises. Besides, he was reasonably certain he still owed McTavish for a few favors back in high school. McTavish and Jordan had been the only ones who knew about Jayce’s involvement with Alyssa, although Jordan had never met Alyssa. They attended different schools, Jordan having gone to the ballet school, while Alyssa attended the public school with Jayce. Jayce wouldn’t have risked his sister being involved anyway. McTavish, however, took the fall more than once to keep Alyssa’s parents in the dark. Claiming his car broke down when the Martin’s pulled into their driveway and begging them for a ride so Jayce could sneak out the back door took the cake. Not that they’d given McTavish anything but a handful of bills to catch a cab. They wouldn’t dream of taking their Mercedes to the other side of town. But the ruse had bought Jayce the necessary time to run out the back and hide in the thick trees that divided their property from the Fitzgerald’s behind them.

  Jayce chuckled as he approached the door. He’d frozen his balls off standing there in the dark, in forty degree weather, with nothing but his boxer-briefs on. But he’d have done it all over again just to have a few hours alone with Alyssa.

  He scowled as repressed memories surfaced. Damn, he’d been a fool back then.

  At the doorway, the splintered wood caught his immediate attention. He backed off the step to get a better angle, and his frown deepened. Crowbar. Stuffed between jamb and door and used to pry at the lock. Why hadn’t that tripped the alarm?

  Aw hell, he’d hoped this would be simple. He’d intended to glance around, shrug his shoulders, and excuse the failure to random oddities. Now he’d have to act like he really knew the nuances of security.

  Grumbling to himself, Jayce pushed open the door and entered McTavish’s office. McTavish sat at his desk, the phone tucked against his ear. He bid Jayce hello with a lifted hand.

  “I understand, Nelson, but the l
ast thing we want to do is put a hostile witness on the stand.”

  Yeah that’d work out well—Jayce held in a chuckle. He turned to inspect the backside of the door and the wire that ran over the frame.

  The muffled sound of an angry feminine voice floated from behind the closed door to his left. An angry voice he knew all too well. Jayce froze, self-preservation alarms blaring. He slid his gaze to the door and the brass nameplate tacked to the exterior. ALYSSA MARTIN, CPA

  No. Fucking. Way. He was not going to confront her today. Not when one encounter with her last night made sleep impossible.

  Jayce spun on his heel, shot McTavish a glare, and jerked the front door open. It was bad enough knowing McTavish was sleeping with Alyssa. Working together, sharing an office, put things on a wholly different, far more intimate level.

  McTavish hung up before Jayce could hurry outside. “Sorry about that. Got a frantic client.”

  “You’ve also got a screwed up alarm system. Call the company who installed it.” Jayce stalked out the door and slammed it shut behind him.

  Halfway to his car, McTavish hollered after him, “Where are you going?”

  “To Jordan’s.”

  “Wait up, man.” Behind him, McTavish’s loafers scuffed across the asphalt. “I thought you were going to take a look at the wiring.”

  “I was.” Jayce opened his car door and set one foot inside. “Until I realized Alyssa’s here.”

  Confusion clouded McTavish’s expression. “What’s that got to do with anything? She’s tied up with the cops anyway.”

  What did she have to do with—Jayce groaned. McTavish couldn’t have been ignorant of the tension that had crackled between him and Alyssa the night before. He glanced at his friend’s clearly perplexed expression. On second thought, yes, he could be that clueless. McTavish always had a bad habit of being a bit too trusting of his girlfriends. He’d always been the last to know when things were over. Usually when Jayce pointed out the obvious.

  Damn it. Ten years ago or not, McTavish had been his best friend. He would not poach. Nor would he stir troubled waters when he’d be gone in four days.

  Jayce slid behind the wheel. “The alarm should have tripped. You need to call your installation company.”

  McTavish shoved his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and bounced a handful of loose change. “That’s the thing…I think we want to change companies. Put in something only Alyssa and I know about.”

  Jayce squinted, searching for the meaning his friend didn’t say. Shadows clung beneath McTavish’s eyes. Lines of strain etched alongside his mouth. And the way his gaze skipped around lifted Jayce’s hackles. Something was keeping McTavish up at night.

  “Who do you work for?”

  Shrugging, McTavish stared over the top of the car at the office building. “I have a bunch of clients.”

  “Yeah, but whose office is this?”

  “Mine and Alyssa’s.”

  Jayce pursed his lips as annoyance flickered. Once, McTavish’s ability to talk around things had been a blessing. Now it only pissed Jayce off. “Who owns the deed, here, Brice?”

  “Delfranco. But he’s in jail, Jayce. The feds are watching his family. If you’re thinking he tried to break in, there’s no way.”

  Oh, there was always a way. But hearing that Delfranco, noted hit man for the Chicago Serafino family, had access to Alyssa was enough to pull him from his car. “I won’t be in town long enough to customize a system for you. But I’ll take a closer look.”

  A brief flash of relief washed across McTavish’s expression. “Thanks, bud.”

  With a curt nod, Jayce returned inside, McTavish following on his heels. As he shut the front door, Alyssa’s opened. A tall officer with deep pocks on his face frowned at her. “We were counting on your cooperation, Ms.—”

  “Until you return with a subpoena, Officers, that information is confidential.” She pointed at the exit Jayce had just closed. Her gaze landed on Jayce’s and widened in surprise. She didn’t look away. “I won’t tell you again.”

  Jayce stood rooted in place, trapped by the incredible power of her rich brown eyes. Deep inside, longing he thought he’d buried stirred. The officers shouldered past and left. Whether they said goodbye he couldn’t say—he was too busy trying to remember why he’d come.

  And why he should leave.

  Because if Alyssa’s chest heaved any harder, her breasts would spill over the low scoop neckline of her casual summer blouse. And damned if that stylish pencil-skirt didn’t short-circuit his brain. All he could think about was shoving that scrap of fabric to her waist and feeling those amazing legs wrapped around his waist.

  Needing no more encouragement than that brief fantasy, Jayce’s cock swelled. He bit back an oath and forced his stare away from those smooth lengths of lean muscle. Alyssa belonged to McTavish now, no matter what chemistry still flowed between them or how many invitations she cast behind her compelling eyes.

  He forced himself to break eye contact and stalk into McTavish’s office, where he hunkered down by the window and examined the wires there. Behind him, Alyssa’s door shut heavily.

  F i v e

  Alyssa gritted her teeth and eyed Jayce from beneath her eyelashes as he fiddled with a connection wire over her doorway. The first of a stack of file folders lay open before her, a mere four forms logged into her accounting system. She couldn’t think with Jayce hovering around, and the way the step-ladder he used placed his tight, jeans-clad buttocks in her direct line of sight made her want to squirm in her chair. He’d always possessed the ability to make denim sinful.

  “Are you going to be much longer?” she asked, biting back annoyance. The way he flat out managed to pretend she didn’t exist, when her body hummed with awareness of him, ticked her off.

  “I’m just trying to figure out…” He trailed away thoughtfully, dismounted the ladder, and crossed to the opposite corner of the room, his attention locked on the thin fiber.

  “Figure out?”

  “Where this comes from.” His fingers fumbled at the top of the windowsill, where the cord disappeared behind the trim.

  Alyssa pointed to the bottom corner near the floor. “Look down.”

  Jayce followed her directive then crouched near the carpeting. “There’s no sensor on your window.” He glanced over his shoulder. “McTavish, where’s the sensor for the window in here?”

  Giving up all hope of accomplishing anything, Alyssa pushed her chair back and set her feet on the desk as Brice wandered to the door. His appreciative gaze raked down the length of her legs, then locked with hers. Ever so slightly, he inclined his head toward Jayce, suggestion unmistakable. The subtle heat behind his blue eyes made the already present discomfort between her legs more aggravating. He wasn’t who her body hungered for, yet the unspoken question in his gaze boomed through her head: Well?

  Before she could lower her feet, Jayce turned to address Brice. But Jayce’s keen perception caught Brice’s distraction, and when Jayce’s eyes followed the same path, Alyssa shivered. Unlike the comfortable heat behind Brice’s stare, Jayce’s burned with a predatory hunger. A dangerous possessive gleam that made her stomach flip wildly. She dropped her feet to the floor.

  “It should be there, Jayce. On the inside corner of the joint,” Brice answered.

  His statement thankfully jerked Jayce’s attention off her and back to his inspection. Alyssa exhaled a measured breath. Maybe she could fabricate a lunch appointment and escape. Leaning forward, she flipped open her calendar.

  “It’s not here. But the wire’s visible. And it hasn’t been cut.”

  Jayce’s low baritone voice pulled her attention back to him. Brice leaned around Jayce’s powerful torso to inspect the place Jayce indicated. But the chirrup of Brice’s cell phone interrupted. He pulled the device from his pocket. The time he took to tap in a message left her vulnerable once more to the hungry way Jayce’s gaze canvassed her breasts.

  Damn him. He wouldn�
�t bring himself to talk to her, but he had no problem touching her in far more intimate ways. She should leave. Immediately. Before she became seriously tempted to entertain Brice’s suggestion.

  Brice shoved his phone back into his pocket. A strange urgency turned his words into a rush. “I have to run for a bit.”

  “What?” Alyssa shot him a pleading look. He couldn’t possibly leave her alone with Jayce. Not when he knew how desperately she didn’t want to be near him.

  “Gotta drop something off at the courthouse.” He strode out of her office, into his, and then returned to the small waiting area between, briefcase in hand. “You’ll help out Jayce if he needs anything, right?” A hint of amusement reflected in his expression.

  He was so going to pay for this later. She narrowed her gaze. “Sure.”

  “I’ll be fine. Not much longer,” Jayce assured.

  As the front door clicked behind Brice, Jayce returned to his knees on the floor, feeling around on the carpet. She watched the play of his long fingers against the short fibers, studied the ripple of his shoulders as he crawled on all fours, following the path of the hidden cord.

  He came to a stop on the opposite side of her desk. Slowly he unfolded all six feet of his incredible body and stood. “Excuse me.”

  Puzzlement creased her brow. “Excuse—”

  Jayce moved to her elbow, nudged her chair aside, and knelt beside her knees. The clean scent of soap wafted to her nose. She closed her eyes, breathed him in, and willed her heart to stop turning cartwheels. So close. So within easy reach of sliding her fingers through his thick black hair.

  His shirtsleeve brushed her calf as he edged further beneath the desk. Her breath caught. Another shiver rolled through her. “Jayce.” She drew in a sharp breath as cotton brushed her skin again. “Is this really necessary?”

  Jayce’s voice held frustration as he fumbled with a tangle of cords near the back corner. “I’m trying…” He leaned over her foot so far that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. “...to see where this goes.”