by B. J Daniels
He breathed it in, trying hard to concentrate on his job. He’d always prided himself on being able to put his personal life on hold while on assignment. That ability had only been tested a few times, however. Most recently by Amanda Crowe. And now—finding out that his whole life had been a lie.
Through the trees, he caught the flicker of lights from the hacienda. He slowed, not in the least bit anxious to see Amanda and let her stir him up. Not tonight. He felt torn, desperately needing the truth and yet sick that he would hurt the only parents he’d ever known. They had begged him not to try to find out who he was.
“You’re our son,” his father had said, his voice breaking. “Nothing is to be gained by digging in the past.”
“Jesse, please don’t do this,” his mother had pleaded. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”
But he was already hurt. If only he could just let it go. Why did it have to matter?
But it did matter. It mattered a whole hell of a lot and he knew he couldn’t let it alone. As soon as he found out what happened to Susannah Crowe he was going to find out about that little baby boy someone had abandoned beside the road thirty years ago.
Ahead, the trees opened a little to make room for the sprawling structures of the Crowe compound. He took the delivery road that went past the garage. The road was dark, cloaked in trees, and far enough from the house that there was little chance he’d run into any of the Crowes tonight.
The garage and his apartment loomed, large and unlit. Ahead, the trees made a dark canopy over the narrow road. Suddenly, he felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle. Something moved off to his right.
He brought the cycle to a stop in the deep shadows next to the garage and his apartment. The stifling Texas spring night quickly settled around him, heavy as hot tar. In the distance, he thought he heard music. Latin music. Coming from the main house. Coming from Amanda’s room.
He’d convinced himself that he was imagining things when he spotted the dark figure skulking along the edge of the main house, headed toward the far wing of the main house. J.B.’s wing. An area considered extremely off-limits. One even Jesse hadn’t dared explore.
He swung off the bike, intrigued, and slipped through the pools of shadows, following the same path the intruder had taken, wondering why the security system hadn’t picked them up yet.
J.B.’s wing ran east of the main house, stretching back into the trees. A fortress of wrought-iron barred windows and massive wooden doors, it would take a tank to get into without a key.
Jesse gaped in amazement to see one of the iron grates hanging to the side and the window open. He reached automatically for his weapon and realized belatedly that he’d left it in his apartment when he went to see his parents.
As he neared the window, he could hear someone quietly opening and closing drawers in an adjoining room. He tried to imagine the fool who would break into J.B.’s office. As he slipped through the window, he tensed, waiting for the security alarm to go off.
When it didn’t, he felt a cold chill run up his spine. Whoever was in the next room had somehow disarmed the system. Damn, he thought as he edged toward the faint sound of shuffling papers. He wished he had a gun.
On the wall of the adjoining office, the narrow beam of a flashlight flickered. It bobbed and dipped like a firefly to the sound of drawers being opened and closed in a filing cabinet.
Jesse looked around for something to use as a weapon. A small statue of a woman near the door caught his eye. He wrapped his fist around her slim waist and carrying her like a club, edged toward the open doorway.
He shouldn’t have been surprised by what he saw when he peered around the doorjamb. Nothing the woman did should still surprise him. But it did.
Amanda was bent over an old oak desk, going through the drawers.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, stepping into the room.
She jumped and spun around. She had a small book in one hand, like a ledger, and a flashlight in the other.
Her eyes looked golden in the light, like a cat’s. He half expected her to pounce.
She eyed him, then the statue in his hand. “It isn’t what you think,” she said, her voice a low purr.
The sound skittered across his skin, sending a shiver through him. “What do I think?” he managed to rasp.
She smiled then and stepped toward him, the flashlight beam a golden disk on the floor at her side.
He didn’t move. Couldn’t. She closed the space between them, stopping within a hairbreadth of him. Not touching, but so close he could feel her body heat, smell her exotic, haunting scent, feel the electricity arcing between them. But it was the look in her eyes that was his downfall. The promise of all that he had longed for. And more.
“Jesse?” she breathed and she leaned up as if to kiss him.
The cold barrel of the gun in his ribs snapped him right out of the fantasy.
“Do as I say or I’ll kill you,” she ordered.
It had been one hell of a day. Not his best. Everything about it seemed surreal. Even comical on some level. Except for the business end of the weapon pressed into his ribs and the desperation he heard in his attacker’s voice.
“I know how to use this and I will,” Amanda said as she jabbed him with the gun. “You just saved me a trip to your apartment. Now let’s get out of here and don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”
Not likely. He put down the statue carefully and let her lead him at gunpoint out of the office. He might have called her bluff, but being taken her hostage was the perfect way to end the perfect day. He didn’t think she’d kill him in cold blood. But then he couldn’t be sure of that.
Mostly, he wondered what had caused her to do something this desperate—breaking into her father’s office. Was this what she and Gage had been discussing in the alley? He noted that she’d put the ledger—if that indeed was what it was, into the canvas bag she carried, along with the flashlight.
They went back out the open window, with her right at his heels. “Where is your bike?” she whispered as she closed the window and locked the iron bars again, keeping the gun on him.
“My bike?” he asked stupidly. “You don’t think you can handle a bike that size—”
“I just need to handle you,” she interrupted.
“You’re getting us both out of here on that bike,” she said, pressing the barrel of the weapon into his back as they moved through the shadows to the garage.
He wondered where she planned to take him as he climbed on the bike and she slid in behind him. Several possibilities crossed his mind. One involved a bullet to the back of the head and a ditch.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” she snapped.
“Whatever you say. But you’d better put this on if you hope to get out of here.” He took the helmet from where he’d hooked it over the handlebar earlier. She snatched it out of his hand.
He could have taken her down right then fairly easily. After all, he was trained for this sort of thing. But he reminded himself that she believed he was nothing more than a chauffeur. Also, she needed him. There was no way she could handle the bike alone even if she did know how to ride and she apparently was desperate enough to take him with her. That meant he had her right where he wanted her. Kinda.
He punched the gas. She hurriedly wrapped one slim arm around him and held on, her body pressed tight to his. He felt her hand go up under his shirt until she found bare skin, her touch tantalizing torment. She pressed the cold barrel of the weapon against his ribs.
“Don’t do anything stupid at the gate,” she whispered next to his ear.
The guard at the gate didn’t seem that surprised to see him come back through. The man was, however, surprised to see that Jesse had picked up a woman. Fortunately, the surprise gave Jesse just enough time to speed out of the gate before the guard could react.
“He’s going to call your father,” Jesse yelled back at Amanda.
She jabbed the gun into his side in answer. “Head south.”
It would take only a few minutes for J.B. to verify that Amanda was gone before he sent his goons looking for her—and the chauffeur, who it appeared had helped her escape. Great.
Night lay over the city like a warm, wet blanket. In the distance, he saw the flicker of lightning but while he couldn’t hear the rumble of the thunder over the roar of the bike, he could see that the storm was moving their way.
The air crackled with electricity but not all of it from the storm. He’d never felt her touch before. Except for that quick brush in the alley. Now her body clung to his, hotter than the Texas night. Her breasts crushed against his back, soft and rounded through her thin clothing; her spicy scent deadly. Amanda, armed and as always, dangerous.
His need made him ache; the wanting made him disgusted with himself. He knew who she was, what she was capable of, but the disgust seemed minor compared to the need. God, how he wanted her. And if he had the chance, he feared he’d take her. That scared him more than the gun in his ribs. Or the woman with her finger on the trigger.
She took him down a series of back roads outside of Dallas. He’d seen her checking her watch before they left the estate. She seemed anxious as if she had someplace she had to be.
He could feel her anxiety growing as if time were running out.
“Turn here,” she ordered.
He recognized the neighborhood. It was just south of where she’d met the woman at the out-of-the-way Mexican café. Except this area was part of a city renewal program. The houses stood empty, windows broken out, graffiti scrawled on the weathered siding, waiting to be torn down. Almost all of the street lamps were out, and even what had once been a park stood empty, knee-deep in grass.
He felt his skin crawl, recalling his original fear: a ditch and a gunshot to the back of the head. A fitting end for someone who’d started out in a ditch beside the road, he thought bitterly.
“Stop the bike,” Amanda ordered with another jab of the gun barrel.
He stopped, his patience wearing thin. And her desperation was starting to scare him a little.
“Get off,” she ordered as she started to ease the gun from under his shirt. “Slowly.”
He considered his options. He could let her kill him. He could let her leave him out here. Or…
He brought his arm down hard. She let out a cry. The weapon clattered to the concrete. In one swift movement, he jerked her off her feet and around onto his lap.
He’d had enough of her orders, enough of her. His body hurt from need, making him tense and irritable. Just being this close to her made him want to take her and get it over with. He knew it would be only the one time. He’d never want her again. He just needed to get her out of his system. Damn the consequences.
He stripped his bike helmet from her blond head and, trapping her arms, pulled her into him hard. His mouth dropped to hers. He would have one kiss. One taste of her.
In the distance, he thought he heard thunder but in his fevered state of mind, it could just have easily been his own thunderous heart.
She fought for only a moment, then surrendered to his arms around her, his mouth on hers, his kiss. Her lips parted with a low moan and she softened against him.
Lightning lit the sky like fireworks. The answering thunder reverberated through him, making the night seem as alive as the rarified air around them.
And for a few moments, she was just a woman, not a mobster’s daughter, but flesh and blood and more female than any woman he’d ever known. He freed her arms, deepening the kiss as she placed her palms on his chest.
Suddenly, she shoved him back. Before he could react, she snatched the cycle helmet from his hand and swung. He dodged. The helmet missed his head but glanced off his shoulder as he grabbed for her. But she’d already dropped the helmet, slid off the bike and was running toward the park.
His pride as well as his shoulder hurting, he went after her. Lightning splintered the sky. Thunder rumbled, closer this time.
He tackled her, throwing her down, landing with her under him in the cool, damp grass. She let out a grunt and a curse and fought beneath him. He held her down until she stopped resisting. He could hear her labored breathing but she didn’t fight him as he rolled her over and looked down into her face.
In the faint light from one of the few remaining streetlights, he could see her hair fanned out over the dark-green grass, her face pale, her brown eyes wide. He leaned over her, his hands pressing her arms above her head, his body pinning hers to the ground.
She licked her lips and met his gaze, her eyes glittering with rage.
“What the hell is the deal with you?” he demanded, his head spinning from the kiss, from her behavior. For just a moment during the kiss, he’d thought she’d wanted him as much as he wanted her. Wrong. Obviously the kiss had only been a ruse for her. His aching shoulder could testify to that. He was just lucky it hadn’t been his head.
“You have to let me go,” she commanded through gritted teeth.
“So you can try to brain me again? Not likely.”
“If my father finds out what you’ve done—”
“What I’ve done?” he interrupted. “Something tells me kissing you would be way down on the list long after breaking into his office. Try again.”
She took a ragged breath. Tears glittered in her eyes. He could feel the fight go out of her.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Boy, you can say that again. Why don’t you try to explain it to me.” He had no idea what he didn’t understand. Highest on his list would have been the kiss.
Over them, lightning lit the sky, thunder boomed as he held her down, determined to finally get some answers. One way or the other.
She looked up at him, her eyes swimming in tears. “Let me up and I’ll tell you everything.”
He really doubted that but she no longer seemed armed, although everything about Amanda he realized would always be dangerous. At least to him.
He let go of her arms. She lay still for a long moment. A voice inside his head warned him he was being played for the fool. Again. But he started to ease off her.
Suddenly she shot a furtive glance to her right. The canvas shoulder bag she’d been carrying was lying within her reach. She made a grab for it.
He’d seen her put the ledger and the flashlight in the bag, but he had no idea what else was in there. His mind screamed, She’s going for a weapon.
He grabbed the strap of the bag before she could and tossed the bag just out of her reach.
The bag hit the edge of the sidewalk. Something inside shattered. The sound made him start as if it had been a gunshot.
She let out an oath and attacked him like a hellcat. He fought to hold her down. What had been in the bag that would break and make her this upset?
“What was that?” he demanded as he braved releasing her with one hand to lean out and snag the bag. He dragged it back over to them; it left a wet trail in the grass.
She squirmed under him, cursing.
He frowned as he opened the bag to see what appeared to be a bottle of teething medicine. A pale liquid puddled in the bottom of the bag. No weapon.
His gaze flicked to hers in surprise.
She groaned, closed her eyes and lay still, no longer fighting. A tear squeezed from beneath her dark lashes. For a moment, he thought it might be a real tear with some emotion behind it. But then her eyes flew open and all he saw was anger.
“Get off me, you big oaf,” she said through gritted teeth.
His head swam as he eased off her, but he still kept close enough that he could grab her again if it proved necessary.
But she made no move to take off or to attack. She knelt beside the bag in the grass, dumped out the pieces of the bottle, and carefully removed the ledger, checking to make sure the pages hadn’t been ruined.
He watched her get to her feet and carefully turn the bag inside out and pu
t the flashlight and the ledger inside again. “The medicine was for Susannah,” he said, unable to hide his disgust. The woman was a liar. Her baby hadn’t been kidnapped.
“What do you care about my baby?” she demanded angrily.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Why would a mobster’s chauffeur care about the missing baby? “Maybe I could help you.”
“Oh, sure, like you helped last night? Spying on me for my father?”
“J.B. had nothing to do with me following you last night,” Jesse said, remembering too clearly the brush of Amanda’s breast against his arm. Unconsciously, he rubbed the spot with his hand.
“Then how did he know about me going to the café?”
“Didn’t you tell him about me following you?”
“I never told my father anything,” she said flatly.
Jesse stared at her. She hadn’t gone to her father. That shouldn’t surprise him in light of everything else he’d learned about her tonight but it still did. It suddenly hit him. When J.B. had thanked him for keeping an eye on Amanda, he’d just been fishing. And Jesse had taken the bait.
“Gage told him about seeing the two of us together.”
She blinked in surprise. “Gage?”
He nodded. “I overheard them.”
Her jaw tightened. “What did Gage say?”
“That he was looking for Susannah.”
She nodded as if she already knew that.
“You know it crossed my mind that you and Gage might have cooked this whole thing up to extort money from your father,” he said, aware he was wading into dangerous waters. “Extortion does run in your family. But now I’m thinking J.B. didn’t go for it. So you stole the ledger to give yourselves more leverage.”
She shot him a look so deadly it should have killed him on the spot. “I can’t stand Gage Ferraro and I don’t want anything from my father.”
Between her look and her tone, he tended to believe her. Her anger toward both men did make him curious, though.