Seized by Seduction--A Compelling Tale of Romance, Love and Intrigue

by Brenda Jackson

  “Where are we going?”

  So she hadn’t drifted off to sleep, after all. “To my home in Malibu.”

  He heard her pulling up in her seat. “Your home in Malibu? But I thought you said you hadn’t been back to LA since your release from jail.”

  “I haven’t. The house was a gift from my godmother, Lucinda, on my twenty-first birthday. I had every intention of moving into it, but before I could do so, I was arrested and sent to prison. Lucinda hired a property manager to handle things for me, making sure it was rented out all these years. I talked to him before leaving the hotel to let him know I was in town. He said the couple leasing it moved out last month and he was in the process of listing it again as a rental. So it’s available for us to use.”

  Randi nodded. “Lucinda? That was your mother’s best friend in college, right? The one who introduced your mother to your father, who was her cousin.”

  Quasar wasn’t surprised that she’d remembered what he had told her last weekend about his godmother, when she’d also remembered what he’d told her about Lilly. “Yes.”

  “Since you own a home in Malibu, why were you staying at the hotel? In a room next to mine?”

  Quasar had figured sooner or later she would get around to asking him that. She’d listened to his statement to the FBI about hearing noises coming from her room. And he’d told her that, as well. She had to be wondering why he hadn’t mentioned staying at the hotel, in the room next to hers. He’d had several opportunities to do so.

  “I wasn’t crazy about you coming here assisting with gangs, but you felt safe and I let it go. Like I told you, I made plans to follow you here because I wanted to see you and spend whatever free time with you you might have while you’re here.”

  “And you intended to try making peace with your family,” she inserted, as if he’d forgotten about it.

  “Whatever. Anyway, the night before flying out, I had this crazy dream.”

  Randy lifted a brow. “What was crazy about it?”

  “You were in danger. Running away from someone. The next morning I tried dismissing it from my mind but couldn’t. I had a gut feeling about it. And it didn’t help matters that I kept remembering what you said about your gift being meant to help others more than to help yourself, which is why you can’t read me. That made me concerned that although you can detect danger for others, you might not be able to do so for yourself. I’m glad I followed my intuition and stayed at the hotel.”

  “I am, too.”

  Quasar was surprised by her easy acceptance of what he’d told her about his dream and his need to protect her. He figured she was too mentally drained to care.

  “What about your family, Quasar? Being my bodyguard will detract from the time you could be spending with them.”

  He figured he should level with her now. “The reason I decided to come visit my family finally, after all these years, was not for a touchy-feely reunion. I need answers from my father about a lot of things. For instance, the way he shut me out after Mom died. What he says will determine my next move.”

  He could feel her gaze on him. “Your next move?”

  “Yes. There are things about my relationship with my family that I’d rather not discuss. But those particular things are the reasons a part of me feels that I can’t ever be close to them again, Randi. That it’s time I move on and sever the ties. The purpose of this trip is to meet with them to determine which way it’s going to go. That’s the only way I’ll ever have true inner peace.”

  Randi wondered what could bring Quasar to want to do such a thing with his family. He actually was considering severing ties with them? In her world, family was everything. Even during those years when Trey’s mother, Angela, had kept him from their father and had filled Trey’s mind with hateful and evil lies about Randolph Fuller, neither Randolph nor Trey had cut the cord.

  “Does your family know that you’re here to do that?” she asked. “Sever the ties?”

  Quasar brought the car to a traffic light. “They didn’t know I was coming to LA, but I’m sure they do now since I called my property manager. He handles a lot of business for my father. They’re friends, and I suspect he won’t waste any time letting Louis know I’m in town.”

  “Louis?”

  “Yes. My father.”

  She bunched her brows. “You call your father by his first name?”

  “Sometimes.” Quasar knew by now Randi thought the whole situation with his family was strange. And it was. Even when he’d talked to his property manager, Paul Woodard, the man had tried quizzing him about some things, such as when he planned to visit his family.

  He’d always liked Paul. The man was fair and had treated him decently. Quasar had seen no reason to stop him from handling the affairs dealing with the beach house, although Paul was a close associate of Louis’s. Even when Quasar had been incarcerated, he’d followed his godmother’s advice to let Paul invest the proceeds from the rentals. Paul was also the person he used to invest the trust funds left to him by both sets of grandparents.

  Upon his release from prison, Quasar discovered all the investments had paid off, and he didn’t have to work another day in his life if he chose not to. The old Quasar Patterson would have taken advantage of that. But the new Quasar, the one who’d spent three years in prison, the one who’d met and been mentored by Sheppard Granger, knew money wasn’t everything. Peace of mind was.

  “Quasar. I need you to hold me, please.”

  He snatched his eyes from the road to Randi. She was trembling. Not caring that the two FBI agents following them, who’d been instructed by Riviera to tail them until they reached their destination, had to be wondering what he was doing, Quasar eased his car to the shoulder of the road and killed the engine.

  He unsnapped his seat belt and pushed back his seat before reaching out to unsnap Randi’s seat belt. He pulled her across the console and into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. She continued to tremble as he alternated between Spanish and English, whispering words to console her, to let her know everything would be alright and he would not let anything happen to her. Surviving an attempted murder had to leave a person traumatized. She was human, and any sane person who’d gone through what she had tonight could hold it together for only so long. And then there had to be that inner fear in knowing the person responsible for sending that assassin might try again. But like he’d told her, he would not let anything happen to her.

  She lifted her head, and when he saw the lone tear from her eye, he gently wiped it away. She leaned up and covered his mouth with hers. Quasar knew she needed to dominate this kiss, and he intended to let her. Even if it killed him.

  He was beginning to think it just might when their tongues mingled and mated in a tango so sensual he could feel a drugging rush of desire flow through his entire body. It was as if the forceful demand of the kiss was trying to claim his very soul while igniting a bone-melting fire that quickly spread through his loins.

  He had to remember this kiss was therapy for her. At present, he was her anchor in turbulent waters. Her calm in the storm. And whether she knew it or not, that unexplainable connection he’d felt the night their gazes had met over the crime scene tape was binding them tighter.

  She released his mouth, and when she parted her lips to speak, he shushed her by placing a finger to her moist lips. “Don’t feel the need to apologize about anything or feel you’re not strong. Okay?”

  She held his gaze a few moments before nodding. “Okay.”

  A sharp knock on the car’s window had her scampering out of his arms and back to her seat. Quasar rolled down his window. The FBI agent standing there looked at Randi and then back at him. “Is anything wrong, Mr. Patterson?”

  Quasar shook his head while putting back on his seat belt. “No, nothing’s wrong. W
e just needed to clear up a few things.”

  “Oh, I see.” Quasar had a feeling the agent saw too much. “We’ll continue to follow you when you get back on the road,” the agent said.

  “Alright.”

  When the man walked away, Quasar rolled up the window. He glanced over at Randi and waited while she finished buckling her seat belt before he restarted the engine.

  “We’ll finish clearing things up when we get to the beach house. We don’t have far to go.”

  * * *

  LEO STILLWELL SLAMMED down the phone. How could Ken Adams screw up killing Randi Fuller? The only good thing was that no matter what, Ken wouldn’t talk. His paid assassin had seen firsthand what happened to snitches.

  He began pacing, trying to decide his next move. More than likely Dr. Fuller would be going to the crime scene tomorrow. That’s how she usually operated, and unfortunately, that’s when that damn mind of hers managed to snag clues. If she linked Rick Constantine and his friend to anything, they would spill their guts, and he couldn’t let that happen. It was time they were eliminated.

  He smiled when a plan popped into his mind. He would make it seem as if their deaths were retaliation by the Revengers. That would throw even more grease on the fire.

  Leo picked up the phone to place a call.

  “What do you need, Leo?”

  “I got a job for you.”

  * * *

  LOUIS PATTERSON HUNG UP the phone and smiled. At first he’d been annoyed to have his sleep disturbed, but the news that Paul had delivered had more than excused the intrusion. Quasar had returned to LA just like Louis had ordered him to do.

  He chuckled. For years he’d believed prison had changed his youngest son, had given him a mind of his own. Evidently not, at least not to the degree that it mattered. Oh, he knew Quasar had grown up, was a changed man, but some things couldn’t change, and one was the control he’d managed to maintain over both his sons.

  Louis eased out of bed and slipped on his robe to go downstairs to the library. He needed to start putting plans in place for his prodigal son’s homecoming.

  He would welcome him back with open arms...just long enough to make sure he played his part.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I HOPE YOU like the place,” Quasar said, leading Randi into his beach house. He noticed she had managed to get at least thirty minutes of sleep in during the drive, and he regretted having to wake her when they’d reached their destination.

  She glanced around as she moved past him to walk inside. “I’m sure I will. I can hear the sound of the ocean. How close are we?”

  “Just through those sliding doors,” he said pointing across the room. “It’s a private beach, and most of the homes, including this one, have a boat dock. You can’t see much of anything tonight, but you’ll get a good view when you wake up in the morning.”

  “From what I see in here, this is a really nice place. It’s hard to believe you’ve rented it out all these years and haven’t used it. You weren’t ever tempted to come back?”

  “No, I was never tempted.” No need to tell her that he’d been here in this house, spending the weekend with friends, when the police had shown up to arrest him.

  “Come on, I’ll take you to your room. You have to be exhausted.”

  “I am.”

  He led her upstairs, and when they entered the room, he stood back while she placed her overnight bag on the bed. “I’ll bring the rest of your luggage in. You have your own private bath if you want to take a shower or anything.”

  “Thanks.”

  He watched as she took in the room, and when he saw a semblance of fear in her eyes, he felt anger coiled in the pit of his stomach. “You’re safe here, Randi.” She jerked her head up and met his gaze.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he added.

  She drew in a deep breath and then nodded. “I’ve never had reason to be afraid before.”

  He leaned back against a wall. “You have no qualms about meeting with the leaders of the gangs who are undoubtedly dangerous. You’re not scared about that?”

  Jamming her hands in the pockets of her jeans, she said, “No. I guess it’s because I feel I can control that situation to a degree, but I had no control or forethought that someone wanted me dead.”

  “Well, I think you did an admirable job kicking his ass. Who taught you martial arts?”

  “I took classes from the time I was eight after someone tried kidnapping me. The kidnappers thought they could force Dad to withdraw from some high-profile case. It was Uncle Marlon’s idea that I learn to defend myself.” A small smile touched her lips. “At the time, I thought it was better than those piano lessons I dreaded.”

  For some reason he couldn’t envision her docilely sitting at a piano while her fingers glided over the keys. “What degree black belt are you?”

  “Fifth.”

  He knew reaching that level had to have taken a lot of hard work, commitment and dedication. “I’ll bring the rest of our stuff inside.”

  “Okay, and thanks for earlier, in the car when I came apart. I appreciate everything you said. Some of it was in Spanish.”

  He nodded and decided to explain, especially since according to Striker and Stonewall it could drive someone who wasn’t familiar with the language nuts. “I have a tendency to switch to Spanish at times whenever my emotions are running high.” In a way he was glad she hadn’t understood what he’d said since the Spanish words he’d spoken to her hadn’t been just comforting. A few had been pretty damn sensual.

  “Oh.”

  He hesitated, not wanting to leave her but knowing he had to. But just like at the hotel, he intended to sleep in the bedroom next to hers. Her safety meant everything to him.

  * * *

  RANDI’S EYES FLEW OPEN and she bolted upright in bed, her breathing erratic. Frantically looking around, she saw that she was not in her hotel room and she was alone. There was no attacker with a gun.

  But there had been.

  Closing her eyes, she remembered it clearly, especially the man firing that shot into the bed, thinking she was in it. He’d had no reservations about ending her life. He’d been sent to kill her and had tried doing just that. She’d been involved with dangerous cases before while assisting law enforcement, but she had never been a deliberate target. And the thought that someone would attempt to end her life sent cold shivers through her body. The same as last night, when she’d asked Quasar to hold her.

  She had needed to feel safe. To be held by him. He would never know the relief she’d felt when he’d burst into her room with his gun. She’d known that even if she hadn’t been able to down the attacker, he would have.

  More shivers shook her body, uncontrollably so. Burying her face in her hand she tried getting a grip on reality. She was alive and at Quasar’s beach house in Malibu. The thought that the man who was destined to be a part of her future was the one protecting her now was almost too overwhelming to digest. And he said he’d had a dream the night before leaving Virginia that she would be in danger. Did he have the ability to detect such a thing when she herself couldn’t? Was that a sign? A part of their connection? That during their lifetimes, he would always be her protector?

  Dropping her hand, she lifted her face to stare out the window. Dawn was approaching, which meant she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep since her head had hit the pillow at close to four in the morning. After bringing in the rest of her luggage, Quasar had told her to get some rest. If she needed him for anything, he would be in the bedroom next door. The thought that he was in a bed so close made something akin to liquid heat flow up her spine.

  Just in case what happened last night made the national news, she needed to call her family to let them know she was okay. Reaching out, she grabbed for her cell phone
on the nightstand. It slipped from her hand to go tumbling to the floor. “Gripes.”

  She was about to ease from the bed to retrieve it when there was a knock on her door. “Yes?”

  “I heard a sound. Are you okay?”

  How in the heck had he heard that? The phone hitting the floor had barely made any noise. Getting out of bed, she grabbed the robe from the foot of the bed and quickly put it on. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, picking up her cell phone before going to open the door. “I dropped my...phone.”

  The last word stuck in her throat when she saw Quasar standing shirtless with a pair of pajama bottoms riding low on his hips. She couldn’t stop her gaze from leaving his face to travel down to his chest and the curly hair covering it. It wasn’t too much or too little but just the right amount. Her eyes moved lower to the path of hair that eventually became hidden beneath the elastic waistband of his pants. When he’d burst into her hotel room in his bare feet and jeans with his chest bare, she’d been too traumatized to react to seeing him that way. Now she could appreciate what a nice chest he had.

  With a mass of dark hair flowing to his shoulders and stubble darkening his unshaven chin, Quasar looked the epitome of sexy. And the realization that it was the same chest she’d been wrapped up against while he’d held her protectively last night, first while waiting for the authorities to arrive and then later in the car, sent her adrenaline spiking.

  “Is it damaged?”

  She forced her gaze from his chest back to his face. Why was he so sexy with that little bit of stubble on his jaw? He’d appeared so incredibly handsome before, but now his looks were downright sinful. Her eyes kept returning to his chest of their own accord.

  “Randi?”

  She snapped her gaze back to his eyes. Those make-a-woman-drool brown bedroom eyes. “Yes?”

  “Is your phone damaged?”

  He had asked her that before, hadn’t he? She needed to take her concentration off his body and put it on their conversation. Floundering mindlessly, she tried to get a grip. Glancing down at her phone, she said, “It’s fine. It’s in one of those hard cases.”