Dangerous Kiss

by Avery Flynn

  “So that’s what this was?” She flung her arms outward over her clothes piled up on the floor.

  A puck to the head wouldn’t have hurt as much as her accusation. “No!” She had to believe him. “I couldn’t do it.”

  She stalked over to him. “What’s wrong? Did it offend your delicate sensibilities to fuck on orders?”

  “Claire, I knew I couldn’t do it before I even got back to your house with the pizza yesterday.” His gut churned at the thought of never touching her again.

  “Why should I believe you?” Her stance remained aggressive, but her posture relaxed a few millimeters.

  Jake slumped down into the chair that a few minutes earlier could’ve been the site of lovemaking bliss. Not now. He rubbed his hands across his face. If he couldn’t make her understand, she’d be out of his life faster than a Bobby Hull slapshot. He’d rather be hit in the face by that shot than lose her now.

  How the fuck had that happened?

  “My father has stage four lung cancer. He’s fighting it tooth and nail, but the fact is, he’s dying.” He drew in a shaky breath. “Burlington swore he’d make the old man’s last few months a living hell if I didn’t cooperate. But I won’t sacrifice you for him. That’s not the kind of man he raised me to be.”

  She regarded him silently, doubt still evident on her face. He grasped her hands in his, a now familiar electric current jolting him.

  “There’s something between us, Claire. I don’t know what it is and I don’t know how long it’ll last, but I can’t deny it. I will find a way to protect you and the old man.”

  She slid her hands out of his. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll make sure you live to regret it.”

  He pulled her down to his lap, tension migrating from his chest farther south, to where her naked ass snuggled up against his crotch. “I’d expect nothing less.”

  {MISSING SYMBOL Bold vine leaf south east}{MISSING SYMBOL Bold vine leaf south east}{MISSING SYMBOL Bold vine leaf south east}

  The kiss’s intensity seared Claire’s lips. Her heart had already bought Jake’s explanation. Her head, on the other hand, stayed suspicious.

  Brett had been good at spinning tales, too. The late-night calls were about business. The perfume that clung to his jacket had been from a friend who’d sprayed his coat in jest. How many times had he told her it was all in her head? Too many to count.

  Jake’s arms tightened around her, bringing her back to the present. She broke the kiss. He wouldn’t hurt her. She didn’t have any proof. She didn’t understand how she could be so sure, but she was.

  Together they’d find a way to make Burlington pay and trap the killer, but not right now. She had plans for the growing bulge in his jeans.

  “You have too many clothes on.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  She jumped off his lap and hopped up on the desk to enjoy the show. Anticipation tickled her skin. His fingers paused at his waistband. She sucked on her bottom lip, her gaze glued to the action.

  “Um, I don’t suppose you have a condom?”

  That drew her attention upward to his face. Claire mentally slapped herself. “No, but the Stop and Sip is around the corner.”

  She looked around for her clothes. Now, where did her thong go? Why is it a girl can never find underwear at a time like this?

  Jake held up the swath of green fabric and twirled it around on his finger like a Hula-Hoop.

  “Very funny.” Claire yanked it from him. “Come on, we need to get there before the lunch rush. The last thing I need is Mary Beth Schneider to tell the whole town you and I bought condoms at the Stop and Sip.”

  She slipped into her underwear and shimmied her dress back on. By the time she was finished, Jake had already buttoned his shirt and zipped his pants.

  She hated to see that get put away.

  “You really should at least come visit me in Denver. I could take you to a hockey game.”

  Claire considered the situation. Funny, smart and hot as hell, Jake could make a girl delve into a long-distance relationship. An idea of life with him wormed its way into her thoughts. Hot sex. Cute kids. Growing old together.

  But reality bitch-slapped the fantasy. He’d be gone soon. One night only. That was all her heart could take.

  “No.”

  “Damn.”

  Quiet enveloped the room. Jake’s lips pressed together to form a hard, straight line. Claire couldn’t help herself; she lifted herself onto her tiptoes and softly kissed him.

  “Damn.”

  “Will you stop saying that!” Claire slugged him in the shoulder and grabbed her purse. “Come on, we need to get moving.”

  She pushed back all thoughts of a future with Jake as they hurried down the stairs. Eagerness propelled her down the stairs. She couldn’t wait to buy the condoms and take him home. What she wanted to do would take time and privacy.

  “Come down for a bite before round two?”

  Claire started. Her whole body tensed at the nasal tone—the same one she heard in her nightmares.

  The Voice of Doom leaned against the back door. A lecherous gleam lit his eyes. He aimed a black handgun at them.

  “Oh, don’t get shy on me now, Red. I’d just love to hear all the details.”

  Chapter Ten

  His nerves taut, Jake took in the details of the situation. The stairs were at their backs. The dining room was in front of them. The gunman blocked the closest exit. It was the same nutjob from the Jeep fire, who’d been threatening Claire and had more than likely killed Kendall. He’d changed his clothes and shaved his head, but Jake couldn’t mistake him or his malicious intent. Not with a 9mm Browning trained on Claire’s heart.

  “That was some scream.” The killer lifted his glassy-eyed gaze toward Jake, but kept the gun pointed at Claire. “You’ll have to share your secret with me after this is over. I can make the girls yell, but it’s never my name.”

  Claire shook at his side. His protective urge stoked the fury rushing through his veins. That bastard would pay for making her life hell. The tweaker had some drug-powered aggression on his side, but Jake had no doubt he’d take the killer down. He hunched his shoulders like a lineman about to make a tackle and prepared to take out the lunatic.

  The gun’s ominous click stopped him cold.

  “Loverboy, I’ve got no beef with you.” He stepped closer to Claire, his movements jerky. “But if pushed, I’ll kill you both.”

  Jake ground his teeth, his fists tight by his thighs. He wanted to howl in frustration. They’d wanted the killer to appear on her doorstep. But he’d let his dick and her sweet body distract him from the real reason he was here. To protect Claire. Now they were at this asshole’s mercy instead of it being the other way around. He’d been a damn fool.

  He grabbed Claire’s forearm and tried to pull her behind him to shield her from the maniac. But she wouldn’t go. Short of picking her up and moving her, there was no way to force her to the rear. He couldn’t risk the killer panicking if he made that kind of move.

  She took a step toward the gunman. Terror like he’d never known before gripped his spine. He moved in her direction, ready to do whatever it took to defend her.

  “I have the phone and flash drive.”

  Her quiet words made him freeze in his tracks. His heart stopped for a moment. Could she have been lying all along? Was she involved more than he knew? Doubt nibbled away at him.

  She stood halfway between his arms and the killer’s gun. The hostess stand was just beyond her grasp. He spotted the tell-tale wet glisten on her cheeks. He refused to believe she’d lied to him. Not his Claire.

  “I found them this morning in the bar when Jake brought up a new keg from storage.” She reached the polished hostess stand and casually leaned on it with one hand.

  Tension seeped from his body. Jake fought to keep the ah-ha look off his face. There was no keg this morning. Except for the slight tremble of her hands, he’d be hard-pressed to see throug
h her story if he hadn’t been here himself.

  Her gaze stayed trained on the killer’s face and no stutter gave her away. Most people panicked at the business end of a handgun, and for good reason. But not Claire. She’d come up with a plan to buy time. What a woman.

  “Well, goodie.” The man took a step forward, sweat beading on his upper lip, a tic making his right hand twitch as it held the gun. “Let’s go get them.”

  She cast her head down and looked at him demurely through her lashes.

  “How about a beer or a coffee while you wait?” She spoke the words as if the psycho had arrived early for a reservation. Obviously, Claire had chosen the role of good cop. No problem. The idea of taking a few phonebooks or rubber batons to this creep appealed to the dark place in Jake’s soul, especially after all the asshole had put her through.

  “Tempting as that offer is, I’m going to turn it down considering I don’t want to leave fingerprints and all. Now get moving, Sweetcheeks.”

  Jake’s fingers itched to wrap around this guy’s throat, but the tweaker had the 9mm too close to Claire. He couldn’t risk it. The killer waved the gun in the bar’s direction.

  She walked across the dining room until she was within Jake’s grasp. He reached out and squeezed her hand. Holding her delicate hand in his reminded him how high the stakes were. In that moment, a calm certainty settled on him. He’d take a bullet for her, whatever it took to keep her safe.

  Her steps seemed confident, but he spotted her worrying her bottom lip. He had to get the upper hand. Soon. They couldn’t delay much longer.

  A few distracted seconds, that’s all he needed. This guy was sloppy. He guarded Jake in a perfunctory manner, as if it was all for show. Did he have backup hidden away? Jake didn’t get that vibe and hadn’t spotted anyone else, but he couldn’t be sure. It wouldn’t take much to get a drop on the killer, but if he failed, Claire would pay the price. That couldn’t happen.

  She rambled about the restaurant’s history all the way to the barroom. Grace under pressure is what the old man would call it.

  “We found this bar at auction in Cheyenne. Rumor has it Wild Bill Hickok sat at this bar in his Pony Express days.” She stopped at the same spot in front of the wooden bar where she’d stood when they’d met. Right next to the water hose she’d sprayed him down with. “He might have had a shot of water, or something stronger, bellied up to this very bar.”

  God love her, she had come up with the perfect diversion. It just might work. He tried to relax his muscles. If the killer saw Jake was tense and ready to make a move, Claire’s plan wouldn’t work. A forced calm washed over him as he waited for just the right moment to attack.

  “Fascinating. Really. I could sit her for hours forgetting about what I came here for. What was it now?” the psycho sneered. “Oh yeah, the phone and flash drive.”

  “They’re behind the bar.” She punctuated her quiet voice by waving toward the wood counter.

  “Then go get them, Toots.”

  She gave Jake’s hand another squeeze and walked behind the bar. He followed, wanting to keep his body between her and the gun barrel.

  “Oh no.” The killer jerked the gun around toward him. “I don’t trust you either. You stay here by me at the end of the bar and you, Sweetheart, go get my stuff.”

  Jake’s hands curled into fists. Dependent on what she would do next, he chomped at the bit to make his move. No matter how much he hated the fact, it was too early. He only had one shot at this. He had to wait for the perfect moment. Each second crawled by as she continued toward the keg at the far end of the bar.

  “My brothers say I always talk when I’m nervous. I always thought they were full of it, but looks like they’re right.” Claire waved her hands in the air as she spoke and knocked the water hose from its perch. “Clumsy too. Damn. Can’t you point that gun somewhere else? It’s really putting me on edge.”

  “It’s supposed to, Baby Doll.”

  She clutched the hose as if to replace it on the handle. Instead, she whipped the spout toward the gunman and let the water rip.

  The shot caught him right in the mouth. Startled, his head snapped back.

  “She’s got wicked aim with that hose,” Jake snarled as he smashed the killer’s gun hand onto the bar. He let out a satisfying grunt, but hung on to the gun.

  Determined to take the asshole out, Jake landed a solid elbow to the nose. The man screamed and dropped the gun on the bar with a thunk. It spun on the slick surface and fell to the floor.

  Jake followed with a right hook to the guy’s cheekbone. A crunch greeted his ears.

  Claire stopped the water flow, but Jake didn’t slow his attack. He grabbed the tweaker’s shirt and pulled him in close.

  The maniac had killed Kendall and terrorized Claire. He’d destroyed the sense of safety and comfort she’d fought so hard to create. Jake planned to enjoy making him pay.

  Blood leaked from the man’s nose, droplets dotted his green shirt. Jake leaned in until they were nearly nose to bloody nose. “Nobody messes with Claire. Got that?”

  “It’s mine. She was supposed to give it to me. It’s mine! That stupid bitch Kendall promised to give it to me, but she reneged. She couldn’t be trusted, just like her mother.”

  The man spit blood into Jake’s face. He brought his arms up and broke the hold. They faced off and circled each other.

  “I think a broken promise is the least of your worries right now.” Jake wiped the glob of spit and blood off his face with the back of his hand. This wasn’t his first fight against someone who didn’t play by the rules. Fine with him. Jake tried to keep himself between the killer and Claire behind the bar. He wouldn’t leave her vulnerable. One way or another, he’d take this psycho out. He brought up his arms in a wrestling take-down position and charged.

  Oh. My. God.

  Claire tossed the hose into the sink. Her stomach twisted as the two men slugged it out. When would Hank get here? She’d pressed the panic alarm on the hostess stand five minutes ago. Dread made her body heavy. What if the Voice of Doom had cut the alarm?

  The men crashed to the floor with a bang. The killer came out on top and pummeled Jake. Her heart stopped. It revved up again when Jake pushed the Voice of Doom off and assumed the dominant position. She couldn’t wait any longer.

  She grabbed the first weapon she found—a heavy glass beer pitcher from the drying rack. The only problem? What in the hell was she supposed to do with it? If only she…

  The gun.

  Grunts and groans filled her ears. She dropped to her knees to find where the gun had fallen. Frantic, she felt along the floorboards. She cheered silently when she saw it near the bottom of the ice machine.

  Exalted, she swiped it off the floor. She stood, spread her feet shoulder width apart and bent her knees slightly. The gun felt cold when she gripped the handle with both hands. Her first impulse was to shoot, but she couldn’t risk hitting Jake. She raised the gun toward the ceiling. Her heart hammered as she waited for the Voice of Doom to separate from Jake.

  She hurried around to the front of the bar. The fighters seemed evenly matched. Jake was a bit bigger, but the maniac had enough meth-fueled crazy in him to negate the weight advantage. They grappled on the floor, turned into a small round table, knocked it down. The killer rolled on top of Jake, but he flipped the other man off his body and the men separated. Both breathing hard, they sized each other up like boxers at the beginning of the tenth round.

  Doubt seized her. The gun trembled in her hands. What if she missed? What if she hit Jake instead? Her heart pounded in her ears. There may not be another chance. She had to do it now.

  Claire lowered the gun and aimed at the Voice of Doom. Willing her hands to calm, she eased the trigger back. The gun cracked to life and bounced her arms back.

  The killer shrieked. A warm serenity soaked through her body as blood spread across the seat of his jeans. She’d hit him in the ass.

  It was just a flesh wound so the
danger he posed wasn’t past. They couldn’t afford for him to realize she wasn’t as cool and collected as she pretended.

  “You bitch! You shot me!”

  Bile rose in her throat. She’d gone hunting with her father as a girl, but she’d never hit anything. Now she’d shot a human being. Sure, he was a tweaked-out psychopath, but still she’d pulled the trigger and put a bullet in a person. The reality of it all made her nauseous. Counting to twenty, she pushed back her inner turmoil into a closet in her mind. She slammed the mental door shut. She’d deal with it later.

  “You.” She continued to aim the gun at her human target. “Hands on your head.” Isn’t that what they always said on TV?

  He shot her a scathing look, rolled to his stomach and intertwined his fingers behind his head. “This is not right. Why is everyone so against me?”

  “I don’t think anyone is particularly thrilled with you right now.” She pressed back against the bar for support, worried her shaky legs wouldn’t hold out much longer.

  Jake stood guard over him. “We need to tie him up. Anything handy nearby?”

  “Suzie’s got a bar apron back here. Why don’t you use that to tie his hands behind him?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jake kissed her on the top of her head and walked behind the bar to search for the apron.

  Her stomach calmed somewhat, but her arms began to ache unbearably. Who knew guns could get so heavy, so fast?

  “Got it.” Jake came back around, trussed up the man’s feet and wrists and reached for his cellphone. He leaned down and whispered something in the killer’s ear.

  She couldn’t hear the words, but they must have had their desired effect. Jake stood and laughed, a cold sound masquerading as humor. The man’s body stiffened.

  Claire lowered the gun to the bar and sank onto a stool. Her stomach twisted and cramped. She laid her head down on the dark wood. The cool surface calmed her riotous nerves, gave her a chance to think for a moment. She’d made the right move. Really, she never had another choice.

  Sirens cried in the distance. With a relieved sigh, she slid off the stool. Her knees shook a bit, but she maintained her somewhat wobbly stance. She’d always heard it seemed like forever for law enforcement to respond. Now she understood what that meant.