by Cindy Skaggs
He led her to his truck, and she let the attraction flow through her like the warm alcohol buzzing in her veins. Tendrils of attraction sparked from the rough hand encompassing hers. Heat licked through her, spreading up her arm, speeding her heartbeat. Nerves buzzed like a hive of bees. She could no more ignore the chemistry than ignore the danger she was in.
The cold wind contrasted nicely with the heat flushing her body. It wasn’t every day a man got her hot with one touch. She didn’t believe in denying herself. Pain came whether you were ready or not. So she embraced the pleasure while she could. It had been too long. There had been no one since Vince, and she felt needy and achy inside the more time she spent in Blake’s presence. Time to grab life with both hands.
Traffic was light as they crossed the street toward his shiny silver pickup truck, as much a disguise as his clothes. In a moment, he would deposit her in the passenger seat. He’d let go of her hand and she would be alone again, bereft of his warmth. She rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand, enjoying the flex of veins as he squeezed. She swallowed the need his simple response unleashed.
As they walked around the back of the truck, she leaned into him, let her chest rub his arm. Smiled at the way he made her feel soft and feminine. Small, but never weak. She wanted. Simple as that. Delayed gratification wasn’t her speed. If they could give each other pleasure—before, during, and after all hell broke loose—that would be fan-freakin-tastic. Vicki parted her lips, glanced up at him through her lashes.
“You’re playing with fire, darlin’.”
Like a good scotch, his voice had deepened with age. It was husky, low, and as rough as his calloused hands. It hit her in the gut, spreading heat and desire to all points south. The deep tone was enough to soak her panties. “I like fire.” If he were the match, she’d dance in the flames.
He unlocked the door, leaned into her as he opened it. “You didn’t used to be such a lightweight.”
Lightweight? As in she was coming on to him because she was drunk? The accusation smacked of insult, and it stiffened her spine. “It’s not the scotch, you jerk,” she said, her tone arctic. She yanked, but he didn’t release his grip. “You think it takes a good buzz to make you attractive, Slick?” The little nickname was a clean version of what she wanted to call him right now.
He chuffed out a laugh. “I think it took the drink to ease the shock, and now your brain has re-engaged and you’re working an angle.”
The prick. “No angle. Or there wasn’t.” Now the gloves were off. She yanked her hand, succeeded in freeing it from his larger one. “You didn’t used to be such a cynic.”
“Realist. Victoria, you took a year to plan Sofia’s extrication. You don’t cross the street without a plan, and that’s fine. Admirable, even. No judgment.”
“Sounds like judgment to me.”
“Simmer down.” He leaned over her, towering, intimidating her. “I know full well when you’re trying to get your way. The bat of an eye, the twitch of your hips, honey, you’re walking temptation. You like to play, you like to manipulate, and I get that.”
“You don’t get a single thing.” The sting at the back of her eyes was anger. Every stinking emotion was hardwired to her tear ducts, but he’d rot in an unmarked grave before he had the satisfaction of witnessing her tears another time. He wanted to see manipulation? She stepped closer, let her hips press into him. His heat burned through their clothes, and it took all her resolve not to press against him from knee to chest. She’d lose herself if she weren’t careful. Good thing she had plenty of practice at careful. They’d just see who got burned. Her gaze flicked up his body from his firm, broad chest to his bewhiskered jaw. “I happen to be attracted to you. Not everything is a game.”
“Didn’t say it was, so simmer down before your temper has you doing something as stupid as walking into my club.”
“You calling me stupid?”
“Walking into an unknown situation was irrational and impulsive, two things that don’t usually apply to you.” He ran a knuckle along her jawline. “I see the anger sitting here. I didn’t mean to insult, darlin’. The attraction is two-sided. Whatever happens, we talk about it straight. No hidden motives, no gamesmanship. And in the interest of fairness, I’ll tell you right now, before this is over, you’ll end up in my bed.”
A muscle in her eye twitched. “You mean you’ll end up in mine,” she replied with a snap.
He laughed low and hit her where their bodies still touched. “Correction. We might not make it to a bed, so wherever we end up, there’s one thing you need to know.”
“You come with a warning label these days?”
He leaned into her, pressed her against the side of the truck the way he’d pressed her into the counter, reminding her body of the way he owned her, the way he could make her scream. Oh, she wanted it, wanted him, but he’d earn it first. The chill of car seeped through her jeans and sent a shiver through her. The cold eased the heat that had nothing to do with scotch.
“Last time you walked away and didn’t look back,” he said. “I didn’t come looking for you. That’s on me. I’m not a boy anymore.”
The intensity of his gaze almost sent her scurrying into the cab of the truck. Instead, she stepped closer, letting her hips press into him until the bulge of his erection pressed into her belly. She closed her eyes, wondering which one of them she was punishing. “So I see.” Her body was screaming to take their connection to the next level. The dryness in her mouth left her speechless.
“It’s not about the physical.”
“No?” She opened her eyes and cocked her head to the side. “Could have fooled me.”
“The boy in me failed both of us by letting you walk.”
A knot formed in her chest. He thought he should have followed her years ago. The idea was sweet and misguided, and she wondered at the regret in his tone. She’d left for a good reason, and she hadn’t been wrong.
“Just so you know, Victoria, I won’t make the same mistake twice. You walk, I follow.”
“Ha.” Goose bumps rose on her arms, sending a chill straight to her chest. The man was more intense, more formidable than the boy. “So you say,” she said, her voice shaky. “But no man owns me. I leave when I’m damn good and ready.”
“Not this time. This is your one and only warning. What we had, what we have, isn’t anywhere near finished. You want to play, want to seduce, want to stretch it out, have at it, darlin’. Enjoy the ride.”
“I’m sure I will,” she said, trying for sassy, but it came out breathless.
“But it’s not over until I say it is.”
She pushed against his chest like a terrified cat. “You’re an arrogant prick.”
The left side of his mouth quirked up. “We’re more alike than you know. Now get in the truck.”
He released her as suddenly as he’d grabbed her. She wanted to wipe the smirk off his face, but her hands were shaking, so she bunched them into fists and sat in the truck. While he walked around to the driver’s side, she tried to take a breath and surround herself with calm. A stress hiccup jolted her throat and sent her one step closer to panic. Uncle Manny didn’t scare her as much as Blake, because Blake had the power to bring her to her knees, and that’s one place she’d never been with a man.
They drove several minutes in silence, Vicki attempting to pull her nerves together. This would officially go down as the week from hell. What had started as an unexpected and treacherous visit from her great-uncle the assassin had only gotten worse. From the federal agent to the Justice Department summons to her house getting trashed to—she couldn’t think about the cat—to her migraine. None of it was the stuff of dreams. And none of it destroyed her equilibrium as much as Blake. “Where we headed?” she asked when she was sure she had her emotions under control.
He shook his head. “Still your turn. What brought you to my door?”
“I really did just happen onto your address.”
“No lies. I s
aw what happened to your house. The damage was just the tip of the iceberg.” As the truck headed down the road, he waited. He’d wait all day for her answer.
“Fine,” she muttered. So while he drove the dark streets of Aspen Springs, she told him everything, starting with Manny and ending with her irresponsible trek into Déjà Vu. The dark made it easier to talk, like she was thinking out loud, not talking to this man who had once been her whole world. The only time her voice faltered was when she told him about tossing the cat back inside the house. It was her fault the ridiculous stray had gotten killed. There was a reason she didn’t have pets, didn’t let herself get attached. She’d learned that lesson young, but thought she’d freed herself when Nick died. The thought of the cat put an ache in her chest that didn’t ease as they pulled to the front of a gated community. White stucco walls blocked the view and kept out the riffraff. The security gate denied access to anyone without a code.
“Wait. We’re going to Sofia’s?”
The gate opened, and he drove inside, following a familiar route. The streets were empty this time of night, except for a few cars parked along the road.
“When I’m not at the club, I crash in the garage apartment.”
“No, you’re not living here. Don’t.” The anger was quick because she was hungry and tired and too frazzled to hide it. “You choose to live your life on the edge. You’re a grown man, but Sofia deserves freedom, not you bringing a mess to her door.”
“Relax,” he said. “Sofia’s living with an agent. Nothing and no one is coming for her.”
“Unless they follow you,” she said, her voice hissy to her own ears.
“It’s safe. No one followed us. No one tagged my vehicle. It keeps me in touch with the bureau without ruining my cover, and gives me a place to crash and pull my head out of the gutter for a few hours.”
The garage apartment. Vince’s apartment. The bed she’d crashed on during her migraine. She shrank into her seat. The smell of Blake on the sheets? The dream of him soothing her through the migraine? Not a dream. He’d taken care of her in a moment of absolute weakness, and she didn’t know how to process his kindness. Talking about it would only make it worse.
When they pulled into the drive, he pushed a button and the garage door chugged open. He parked next to Sofia’s Volvo, closed the garage door before stepping out. “Time to face the music, darlin’.”
Bringing trouble to Sofia’s front door was a betrayal, but Blake was relentless. He wouldn’t let her stay outside. Vicki made it to the front step, where an explosion she helped create had scarred the stone entry. At the start of her plan to free Sofia, a bomb had been rigged at the front door, not to kill but to warn Sofia. The scar was like a trigger to her guilty conscience. She’d brought enough pain to these doors. She had no right to infringe on their friendship or to risk her nephew.
Before she could scramble away, Sofia drew them into the house and closed the doors behind them. “Blake, Eli has something to show you upstairs.”
He loped up the stairs two at a time and disappeared into Eli’s room.
“They’ve set up a giant dino sanctuary,” Sofia said with a smile. “It’s monstrous and includes smaller dinosaurs for the carnivores to attack and eat. Logan’s like a big kid. They’d be at it for hours if I let them, which should give us time to talk about why you’re here.”
“I’m here because I wasn’t driving,” she said.
“Oh, so we’re being honest? In that case, you should know I would have tracked you down for disappearing today, which Logan didn’t like.”
“He didn’t like me disappearing?” Please. “More like he didn’t want you to follow me.”
“You showed up in trouble. Running and scared isn’t your style. You threw up on the man. Of course he was concerned.”
Vicki arched an eyebrow. She still didn’t buy it. “He was?”
“You’re here because you’re my friend, and I want to know what’s going on with you.”
She mentally scrambled, her mind backtracking. Blake hadn’t given her a choice, but she’d left earlier with the express intent of staying away. She hadn’t gone to all the trouble last summer to bring it back to Sofia now. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Puh-lease,” Sofia said, mimicking Eli’s voice. “Come help me cook dinner.”
Eli had a one-track mind when it came to food. “I thought you popped the chicken nuggets in the microwave.”
“We’re not eating chicken nuggets.” Sofia dragged Vicki into the open kitchen. It was homey. Sofia’s grandfather had built the house and put the kind of touches any woman would want. Long expanses of granite countertops, tons of light from a large window over the sink, and a top-of-the-line island cooktop. “Eli is expanding his horizons,” Sofia said in answer to Vicki’s food comment. “He’s discovered when you stir-fry broccoli, something magical happens and it doesn’t taste like broccoli anymore.”
“What a crock,” Vicki said with the first real smile of the day. She sat on a barstool at the island and watched Sofia chop vegetables on the block next to the stainless steel stove. Her hands fairly flew as she chopped a head of broccoli like a pro. “Who convinced him of that?”
“Logan,” Sofia said, her tone wistful and so full of love it hurt.
Ugh. The love oozing off her friend was sickening in a sweet, suburban way. It bugged the crap out of her. Happiness was exactly what she wanted for her friend, but seeing Sofia so free reminded Vicki how trapped she was in her own life.
The past several years had been about atonement. She’d manipulated, bribed, and blackmailed Nick. She’d given him most of her mother’s inheritance—money being the language Nick spoke—and it had still taken years to free Sofia. At first, Nick had exiled Vicki to Colorado with Sofia, because it had been a hurtful thing, like selling their mother’s house and every tie to their mother’s memory. And she had loved Manhattan, but had learned to love the open spaces, the mountains, the slower pace, and her quiet little yard.
If she had a yen for the city, she could take a trip, but she’d returned less and less as she’d embraced her punishment. Which chapped her brother to no end. It wasn’t punishment if it didn’t hurt, but he’d found other ways to torment her. She was glad he was dead; she didn’t need Freud to understand why, but she wanted her connection to his life to die as well. As good as she was, she hadn’t planned as well for her own extrication. She was trapped between Manny, the FBI, the Justice Department—who thought they had the right to summon her at will—and now whatever was going on with God-knew-who ransacking her house.
She envied Sofia her mob-free life. Yes, Logan was a Fed, but he’d move the world for Sofia and Eli, and he’d die before he let anything happen to them. “You seem happy.”
“I am, but—” Sofia shrugged. “Not a week goes by I don’t take something out of context thanks to my marriage with Nick, and try to blame Logan for anything and everything.”
A dusty psychology hat plopped down on her head. “Recovery is an ongoing process. Do you still have flashbacks?”
“Not so much.” The night Nick was killed, Eli and Sofia were caught in the cross fire. Their survival was a miracle. That they were free of any entanglements with the mob was extraordinary. “Dreams once or twice a week,” Sofia admitted as she scooped the vegetables into a clean bowl. She moved her hands with a flourish.
“I can help,” Vicki offered.
“The vegetables?”
“Ha.” She grabbed a piece of broccoli to munch on. “No. But I could hypnotize you. We could remove your emotional response to the memories and certain stimuli.”
“Thanks, but no.” Sofia got a larger knife to cube the chicken. “After what happened—” She shook her head. “I trust you as much as anyone, but I won’t give up control.”
Since Vicki felt the same way, she couldn’t fault her friend. She’d learned self-hypnosis because she didn’t want anyone mucking around in her brain. It would take an extreme trauma to get her
under someone else’s power. “If you change your mind…” she offered.
“I won’t.” Sofia washed her hands and came around the kitchen island. “I was going to wait until you noticed, but it’s killing me.” She rested her left hand on Vicki’s arm to show off the gem she now wore on her ring finger.
“It’s beautiful.” A noose tightened around Vicki’s throat. A wedding was only a matter of time—the two were inseparable—but seeing them move on, find love, trust it? Her teeth clenched.
“I know it’s not huge or anything,” Sofia said softly. “My ring from Nick was the size of a glacier.”
“And just as cold,” Vicki finished. She grabbed her friend’s frigid hand and lifted the ring into the light. It looked old, a muted gold band ringed with sapphires and diamonds.
“This was Logan’s grandmother’s.”
“And he could have given you something from the bubble-gum machine and you’d still get all ishy.”
“I am not ishy.” Sofia glanced at the stairs and back at Vicki. “Okay, maybe a little ishy. For the longest time, I didn’t think I’d have this. Nearly two thousand miles from Nick, and I worried I’d never be free to love again. Marry again.”
Emotions tugged at her. She was so glad her friend was able to recover from her marriage to Nick, but that didn’t absolve Vicki of her guilt. “I should have done more. Told you about my family before it was too late.”
“You were just as trapped as I was,” Sofia said. “It took me a while to realize.”
Vicki cleared her throat to put a halt to this line of conversation, but Sofia plowed through.
“We survived, and now that we’re safe, I can thank you for the way you orchestrated Eli’s kidnapping.”
The forgiveness plunged a knife in her heart. “Sofia—”