Treacherous Seduction (The Rockford Security Series Book 3)

by Jones, Lee Anne

  Struggling to keep her barriers to him in place, Shelby crossed her arms. “You don’t look sorry.”

  “Okay, fine.” Chase looked up at her, his lashes long and sooty and the kind most women would kill for. “I’m sorry for how it happened, but I’m not sorry I kissed you. It was… good. Really good.” His eyes locked on her mouth again and a fresh wave of want and heat fizzed through her bloodstream. Good was the understatement of the century. Not that she’d ever let him know that. “But it won’t happen again. Promise.” He held his hand up like a boy scout. “I do still need to talk to you about something though, if you still have a minute.”

  Shelby sidled farther down the line of cages, putting more space between them, until she reached the one at the end. “What?”

  “Well, I—” Henry, a large green iguana who’d been climbing on some nearby cages, took the opportunity to pounce on Chase’s head. To his credit, Chase didn’t scream or try to bat the creature away. He just froze, his gray eyes wide. “What’s on me?”

  Shelby chuckled. “Oh, that’s Henry. I think he likes you.”

  “And Henry is?”

  “An iguana.”

  “Right.” Chase reached up a tentative hand and stroked his finger down Henry’s tail, which was now swatting him on the side of the face. “Nice to meet you, Henry. Now, if I could just move you over to one of these cages so your little nails aren’t digging holes into my head, I’ll be all set.”

  He leaned over toward a nearby cage, but if his wince was any indication, Henry only dug his claws in deeper. Shelby choked back laughter and sympathy. She’d been there, done that, had the aching head to prove it. But she figured a little discomfort was the least she could do after Chase had discombobulated her so badly with that kiss. “Sorry, Henry doesn’t go until he’s ready. So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “About catching the real person behind your father’s murder.”

  “You mean besides you?”

  “Funny.” He scrunched his nose as Henry readjusted himself and now dangled his tail directly down the center of Chase’s handsome face. “No. I was thinking more along the lines of Katherine.”

  “Katherine, huh?” It was a sweet dream, but so far she’d found zilch to prove her wicked step-monster was responsible for the crime. “Well, unless you plan to confess that you acted on her behalf, I don’t have any proof that she did it.”

  Chase sighed and swatted Henry’s tail away from his nose. “If we work together, maybe we can find some proof, something to put her away instead of me again.”

  Her resolve against him crumbled slightly. Having an extra set of eyes and ears on the case would help and it wasn’t like he lacked motivation. Shelby had never been arrested, never been to prison. Hell, she’d never even set foot inside a jail—if you didn’t count the old Mob Museum near the art district. But she imagined it wasn’t someplace one wanted to go once, let alone twice. Still, she couldn’t acquiesce so quickly. “Why would I want to help you get away with murder?”

  “Seriously?” He gave her an exasperated look, even though he’d been a great sport about Henry thus far. “You don’t really think I did it, do you? Katherine set me up.”

  No. Honestly, deep down, she didn’t think Chase had killed anyone. But Katherine?

  With all those remarks her stepmother had made to the police earlier, about her dad changing the will and insinuating Shelby had something do to with it all? Dread pooled low in her abdomen, weighing her down. Yeah. After spending years with that witch of a woman she knew Katherine would kill the Pope himself if she thought it might make her rich. Given her incendiary remarks to the detectives, maybe Chase wasn’t the only person she was setting up, either. Shelby picked up a kitten out of a nearby playpen and rounded the far corner of the cages, nearing Chase once more. The tiny cat chirped in her arms, eyeing the irresistible lure of Henry’s twitching tail.

  Chase cocked his head to the side, his expression confused. “Is that kitten…chirping?”

  “Yep.” Shelby handed him the kitten and reached over to remove Henry from his head then place the iguana back on the front of a nearby cage. She focused on the lizard and not the now familiar brush of Chase’s body against hers as she leaned in closer. “They do that when they hunt.”

  “Good to know.” He stroked the kitten’s soft fur and smiled. “So, what do you say? Want to team up?”

  “I don’t know.” She crossed her arms, feeling way more vulnerable than she wanted. “How do I know I can trust you? You were in Katherine’s bedroom and there’s your sordid past and the drug dealing. Never mind the fact the dealing took place in my dad’s casino.”

  He cursed under his breath. “I should’ve remembered that.”

  “Remember what?”

  “Nothing.” He held up the kitten he was holding and grinned into its little black and white face. “What would I need to do to adopt this little guy?”

  “You need a steady address, for one thing. If you just got out of prison, that would be a problem, right?”

  “He’s not for me. I want to get a pet for the guy I’m staying with.”

  “Oh.” She took the kitten from him. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. We have to conduct interviews with any prospective owners, run checks, do site visits to make sure the home environment will be compatible.”

  “I see.” He looked genuinely disappointed and she felt a pang of regret. Still, the rules were in place for a reason and most of these animals had been abandoned once already. She would never put them through that again. “And you won’t help me prove it was Katherine?”

  “I don’t know.” She stared at him over the top of the kitten’s head. “I’ll need to think about it.”

  “Fair enough.” He ran his hands through his hair then brushed a few stray cat hairs off the front of his jacket before pulling out a pen from his pocket and snatching the folder from atop the cage where she’d set it earlier. He scribbled something on the bottom of the estimate then handed it back to her. “Well, now you know where to find me once you decide.”

  Shelby followed him back out into the reception area then watched as he walked to the nearby bus stop to wait for the next shuttle. Much as she hated to admit it, the idea of teaming up with Chase Evans grew more appealing by the second. He seemed wicked smart and strong and steadfast to a fault. In fact, the more time she spent with him, the more he seemed to defy all of her preconceived notions of what an ex-con would be like.

  She watched as he helped an elderly lady off the bus and over to a bench before boarding himself.

  Nope. Chase Evans wasn’t what she’d expected.

  Not at all.

  Eight

  Instead of going back to Rockford Securities, Chase caught a bus in the opposite direction and headed to an address he’d found on the Internet the night before. Still wired from his kiss with Shelby, he exhaled slow and stared out the window beside him. If he licked his lips, he could still taste her there. He ducked his head and sniffed, catching the scent of her floral perfume. His pulse drummed low and thick and his body still throbbed with adrenaline.

  He needed an outlet for his frustration. Thus this little side trip.

  He’d stayed up late last night searching public records sites for his brother’s last known address and had been surprised to find he’d moved from the somewhat crappy Northeast Las Vegas apartment they’d shared together before Chase’s incarceration to a more upscale community in a cushy complex downtown. He’d tried to keep tabs on his little bro while he’d been behind bars, but information was hard to come by and even then it was mainly second-hand. On the rare occasions when Shane had visited him—all two times during his time in prison—he’d never mentioned where he was living or what he was doing to earn his money. Now, Chase knew why. Too bad he hadn’t known then that Shane’s newfound prosperity had come from him falling back into his same old ways.

  Fuck.

  Chase clenched his jaw and squinted out at the
downtown landscape. The bright midday sun seemed to mock him from above. He wasn’t sure yet exactly how he’d respond to seeing his brother again, especially after what he’d witnessed in the alley that morning, but whatever actions he took sure as hell wouldn’t be all glittering light and rainbows.

  The bus swerved to a stop near the corner and Chase stepped out onto the curb, a doorman in blue keeping watch over the apartment complex’s entrance. Yeah, Shane had certainly moved up in the world these past five years, on the back of Chase’s sacrifice and his damned drug money. Anger and betrayal seared his gut like molten lava. All those years, all those sacrifices, for what?

  Chase inhaled sharply and forced himself to relax, flashing his most polite smile to the doorman.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the doorman asked.

  “Hi, um, yeah. I’m here to see my brother, Shane Evans.”

  “Is Mr. Evans expecting you?”

  Thinking fast, Chase came up with an excuse. “Not exactly. I just flew into town this morning and I’ve got a couple hours layover. Thought I’d stop by and surprise him.”

  The doorman looked Chase up and down, taking in his Rockford Security ID badge, then gave a curt nod. “No denying the two of you are related, that’s for sure. I don’t normally do this, but I’ll make an exception this time. I’ve got a good friend who works for Rockford Security. Great company.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Chase shoved his hands in his pockets and said a silent prayer of thanks once more for Blake’s trust in him. The guy had just saved his butt yet again. “Thanks, man.”

  “Have a great day, sir.” The doorman let Chase inside.

  He strode across the glitzy marble lobby and over to the elevators where he scanned the resident board for Shane’s place.

  Evans, S. Apt. 409

  The ride upstairs passed in a flash, yet seemed to drag on forever and by the time the elevator dinged loud to announce his arrival on the fourth floor, Chase felt ready to burst, Hulk-style, from rage and determination. He walked the few steps to Shane’s door and pounded twice, all thoughts of Shelby and their delicious kiss shoved to the back of his mind. Now, it was all about Shane and Chase and some serious payback.

  Seconds ticked by in silence. Chase raised his fist again, ready to bust clear through the goddamned door if no one answered. Then the sound of a lock clicking was followed by the door creaking open a tad to reveal his younger brother—bleary-eyed and groggy. Without waiting, Chase shoved the door open wider, causing Shane to take a step back.

  Shane raked a hand through his dark, sleep-tousled hair, his low-slung boxers hanging off his thin hips and a large coffee stain in the center of his white tank top. Chase gave him a disgusted look and shook his head. Still a fucking slob, even after all these years. He squinted at Chase with a lit cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. “What the fuck, man?”

  “What the fuck is right!” Chase lost it, shoving his brother back then slamming the door behind him. “Mind telling me why the hell you’re still dealing? Why I rotted my ass in prison for five years for nothing?”

  “Jesus, dude.” Shane took a drag off his cigarette then exhaled slow. “It’s too early for this shit.”

  “It’s noon.”

  “Seriously?” Shane scowled and leaned over to peer out the blinds behind him. “Fuck. I gotta get dressed, man.”

  “No.” Chase stepped in front of him when he tried to pass, blocking his way. “What you gotta do is explain yourself. I took the fucking rap for you, Shane. Lost years of my life all to give you a shot at making something of yourself, to learn from your mistakes.”

  Shane snorted, crushing out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. Empty food containers and dirty clothes were strewn everywhere. The apartment would’ve been nice, if not for all the shit scattered everywhere. Well, that and the odor—a musty scent of dirty gym socks mingled with lavender air freshener. “Don’t feel bad, bro. I did learn something. I learned never to keep the product in my house.” He chuckled. “Won’t make that fucking mistake again.”

  A small muscle ticked near Chase’s jaw, and he clenched his hands tight at his sides to keep from beating the living shit out of his brother. How could he have been so stupid, so blind not to see what a cocky, insufferable asshole his brother really was? The shy, scared kid he’d left behind a decade ago had now morphed into an arrogant, unappreciative prick.

  He turned away, too furious to speak, his throat tight with adrenaline and hurt. From what he could see, the drug dealing biz must’ve been as lucrative as always. Several large leather chairs and a sofa filled the room along with a huge flat screen tv and a gaming console that would’ve made his buddies back in Cell Block G pop an enormous boner. Hooks along one wall hung with designer outerwear that cost more than most people made in a month, fancy embroidered emblems covering the backs or the occasional front breast pocket. Built-in bookshelves lined the wall behind the entertainment center and the spaces were lined with dust-covered knickknacks and magazines and…

  He narrowed his gaze on one particular pile of stuff. Stepped closer and brushed away the layer of grime to see shiny gold twinkling back. His commendations and awards from his security job days. Sadness and affection sliced through him. “You kept these?”

  Shane sniffed then shrugged. “Yeah, so? Whatever. I thought they might be worth something, but they’re not.”

  Chase turned back to the bookshelves. There was his certificate from the mayor and the engraved paperweight he’d received from the Chief of Police, but where was his letter opener? It had been covered in eighteen-carat gold and had been worth more than all the other ones combined.

  I thought they might be worth something…

  Realization ripped his fledgling forgiveness to shreds. Shane must’ve sold that one already. “What the hell happened to you, bro? You had so much promise. You could’ve gone to college, gotten a great life. You could’ve gotten out.”

  “Fuck you, man.” Shane crossed his arms and glared with haunted gray eyes so similar to the ones Chase saw reflected back at him in the mirror each morning. “You don’t know anything about me anymore. And I’ve done just fine without you. Not like I need life advice from a fucking ex-con anyway.”

  Pain rendered him speechless. Chase blinked at the man he’d once given up his life for, his future for, and wondered how in the hell things had gotten so far off track from what he’d planned. He’d gone to prison so his brother wouldn’t have to, gone to prison to give him the second-chance Chase had never had, would never have now if he didn’t find something to clear his name again.

  Shit.

  From the belligerent look on Shane’s face and his dickhead attitude, there wasn’t much point in arguing.

  "Jesus Christ." It was all Chase could think to say. Resigned to the fact things with his brother wouldn’t be getting better any time soon, he gave him one last look, then turned and left the apartment, still seething from Shane’s shitty statements and his own inability to refute them.

  * * *

  An hour later, Chase walked back into the Rockford Security offices, still pissed but back under control. The bus ride had helped. So had the walk around the block he’d taken before coming back in here again. It had given him time to think, time to assess what had happened so far and figure out where he wanted to go from here.

  Good thing too, because he now had a bone to pick with his boss.

  Chase made a beeline through the office and stopped at Blake’s doorway. “Seriously. I just get out of jail and you’re trying to set me up?”

  Blake never looked up from his paperwork. “Hello to you, too.”

  “And not just set me up, but with the daughter of the man everyone thinks I killed, including her.” He did his best to ignore that his outburst seemed to have drawn the attention of more than a few of his co-workers and lowered his voice slightly. “That’s pretty damned twisted, man.”

  After several moments, Blake exhaled and slowly looked up at Chase, his famous arctic s
tare—The Hurt—on full display. With one dark brow arched, Blake sat back in his black leather office chair and crossed his arms. “Are you done?”

  The guy made him feel like a misbehaving school kid, but Chase refused to back down. “You do realize that Shelby Bryant hates my guts, right?”

  Images of their fiery kiss stormed his brain before he shoved them aside. People could despise each other and still get turned on. After all, what was that old saying? A fine line between love and hate? Except kissing Shelby hadn’t felt like hate at all. Not by a long shot.

  “What exactly are you accusing me of?” Blake’s tone remained as cool as his expression.

  “I don’t know.” Chase shook his head, frowning. “You were trying to set me up. You’re meddling in my life.” He scraped his fingers through his hair. “You’re a…a…a frigging matchmaker, or something.”

  Shit. Matchmaker sounded like a woman, which Blake most definitely was not. Being a lawyer—or almost lawyer—he should’ve been able to use his words better, but he was out of practice and what he said would have to stand.

  “Really?” Blake said the word with the same level of snark as a teenaged girl’s eye roll. “Listen, I know you feel like a special snowflake these days, but honestly, I couldn’t care less about your love life.”

  “Yeah? What about that meeting we had right before all that shit with Katherine Bryant went down, huh? I distinctly remember you had your panties in a wad about what happened. You said you were glad I hadn't 'ruined my chances' and mentioned something about 'setting me up right' or something.” He used air quotes for emphasis. “I thought you meant with the right job, but the choice of words was strange. And now you sent me over to Shelby's animal rescue with some trumped up quote on video surveillance she can't afford. Are you trying to fix me up with Shelby Bryant? Was this your master plan the whole time?”