Stacking the Deck (Redemption Club Book 1)

by Anne Marie Becker

  They’d been a mockery of a family, thanks to their mother. Phoebe Bennigan had danced and lived the party lifestyle that so often went with it, slept around, had kids with different men without thinking of the consequences, then gotten herself killed. Jared was gone by then, having joined the military the moment he turned eighteen, where he could feel like he was protecting the entire world from harm. Chelsea could see now the military must have given him a brotherhood he could depend on, as well as the sense of purpose and control that his life had lacked. She would have made the same decision, had she been in his shoes, rather than hang around and watch their mother run her life into the ground again.

  Chelsea, on the other hand, had decided dancing wasn’t the worst choice her mother had made. It was the men she’d chosen who’d been the death of Phoebe Bennigan. Chelsea had that in common with her mother now, too.

  She swiped at her nose and eyes before the tears could fall. Dirt smeared across her cheeks, but it didn’t matter. After four weeks in this hellhole, she was ratty, filthy, and beyond recognition. But she wouldn’t give up.

  Bennigans fought until the end.

  His muscles were so tight with frustration that an ache was starting to pound behind his eyes. Jared parked in his garage and walked into his kitchen, tossing his keys onto the counter with one hand as he reached to loosen his tuxedo tie with the other. At least he wouldn’t have to wear a suit again for a while. He couldn’t say he was going to miss working for Stone, especially since it hadn’t produced any leads on where Chelsea had gone.

  At one time, it had been a different uniform he’d worn. He still missed the military, and the rules he could count on, a life that made sense, the rituals that made him feel part of a bigger picture, that made him matter. There, he’d felt like the world was at least partly under his control. He realized Chelsea had probably been missing those same things if she’d taken a job as a dancer. She’d told him once that dancing for men was her way of proving her body was her own, and controlling the outcome. If he’d just had the patience to try to understand—

  The hairs on the back of his neck rose the second before he felt a gun pressed to his back. Fuck. His muscles braced for attack, ready to defend himself.

  “Don’t turn around.” The female voice raised more goosebumps. His body recognized her instantly.

  His initial adrenaline rush turned to relief, quickly followed by hot, liquid awareness that she was here. She’d come, which meant she was taking a leap of faith. With him. Of course, there was the matter of the gun. Perhaps she wasn’t quite ready to make the leap.

  He ignored her command and turned, drinking in the sight of her. She was still wearing the dress from the party and… sneakers. He grinned. “I see you found your duffel bag.” It was slung over her shoulder.

  She retreated a couple of steps, moving out of arm’s reach. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were the brightest blue he’d ever seen, sparking with anger.

  She kept the gun pointed at him. “I said don’t turn around.”

  “I don’t take orders from others. Not anymore.”

  “I can see that.” A line of consternation dented her brow. “Then we have a problem.”

  “Only if you shoot me. I’m guessing you won’t.”

  “You really want to make that bet? We don’t know each other.”

  “I know you want answers. I’ve got some. Can’t get more if I’m unconscious or dead.” He saw the flicker of doubt. She’d expected him to cower before her—rather big—gun. But it was her eyes that had the power to tear down a man’s defenses. “How’d you get in here? I’d like to know, in case someone else tries to break in.”

  “I doubt they’d come in the way I did.”

  His eyes widened. It had to be the bathroom window above the shower. He hadn’t gotten around to fixing the broken lock. She’d squeezed through there? His eyes went to her slender hips and he swallowed hard at the image of her wriggling through the tight space in her little black dress. “You never know. Stone seems awfully anxious to get his hands on you.”

  “So do you.”

  Jared’s gaze drifted over her again, lingering on the curves he’d briefly held. The memory of the way her backside had been pressed against his crotch at the Roadhouse still filled his dreams. There was no denying he wanted his hands on her again. “True. But the difference is I want to help.” Would she finally stop running and discuss this? That would require a measure of trust he wasn’t sure she had to give, unless he laid all his cards on the line. “I need your help, too. You cost me my one lead to find out what happened to my sister.”

  “Chelsea? She’s your sister?”

  “Yes.” He slowly backed to a picture on the mantel and pointed to his smiling sisters. “That’s her on the left. She went missing a month ago. I think Stone’s somehow connected.”

  She lowered her gun. “How do I know this isn’t a trick to turn me over to your boss?”

  “I don’t work for Stone anymore. And you’ve got your duffel bag. That should give you plenty of ways to maim or kill me if I’m lying.”

  She eyed him cautiously. “My rifle’s in there. And my heels. Can’t believe you kept them.”

  He grinned. “Figured you might want them back.”

  “Not on your life.” At his laugh, she grimaced. “They hurt like hell.”

  “Truce?”

  “Truce,” she agreed, but didn’t offer her hand. And didn’t holster her gun.

  Baby steps.

  “You go first,” she said. “What do you know?”

  That she had the ability to rock his world in a cat-burglar suit or a simple black dress. That her fears and dreams and everything she felt or thought was reflected in her eyes. That he couldn’t get her out of his head, and didn’t want her to leave his side. Not, at least, until he’d gotten the chance to explore her just a bit more—or a lot more. As she stood in front of him, waiting for information, his gaze went to her mouth, tracing the perimeter like a man obsessed. His new favorite shape was the sweet curve of her bottom lip.

  “What do I know?” He grinned. “That your feet smell like flowers.”

  Chapter Ten

  Flowers?

  Skye snorted. She couldn’t control it, nor could she control a shiver of desire as Jared’s gaze remained locked onto her mouth. Whatever thoughts were flying through his head, they brought out ripples of warm honey in the depths of his brown eyes. She found herself entranced and jerked her gaze away, but it landed on the hard edge of his jaw, where the skin was so smooth he must have shaved before the party. It made her think of tactile things like physical contact. Desire did a slow roll through her body like a shot of tequila, warming her from the inside, turning her muscles to liquid heat.

  “You really think we can work together when we don’t trust each other?” she asked.

  His gaze was serious. “I do. Walk with me. I need to get changed and then we’ll talk.”

  As if she’d let him out of her sight. She told herself it was only because she needed to make sure he wasn’t going to retrieve a hidden weapon or call Stone, that she followed him past the kitchen, through a sparsely decorated living room with a brown leather couch, and down a hallway. She hated to admit she appreciated the clean, masculine lines of his home, but she’d had a few minutes to explore his setup and find her weapons before she’d heard his car. She’d even borrowed some antibacterial ointment and bandages for her scraped hands, knees, and feet. She’d pay him back.

  As for the man himself, he seemed unconcerned with her suspicious nature. When he spoke, his tone was friendly and solicitous. “Have you eaten? I planned to cook a late dinner.”

  She stopped in the doorway to his bedroom, hesitant to enter his personal domain. Oh, she’d checked it all out earlier, but with him here it was different. He disappeared into the walk-in closet beyond. Her hand still held her gun, ready in case he emerged with his own weapon drawn. She’d just have to be rea
dy for that event, because she’d be damned if she’d follow him into such a personal, closed space.

  She raised her voice so he could hear her. “How did you come to work for Stone?”

  “I’m co-owner of GSS. After I learned he might be linked to Chelsea, I convinced Stone, as a high-profile man of the world, he could benefit from our services. I learned later that he was being blackmailed, though I don’t know what for.”

  He reappeared in the closet’s doorway, his crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned to the waist. Her eyes drank him in for a second, following the trail of golden hair from his chiseled pecs to a glimpse of washboard abs.

  When she looked back at his face, he was watching her with heat in his eyes. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

  She swallowed. “There’s no way I’m showing my hand for a penny.”

  “Guess I should up the ante, then.” He turned to reach into the closet for something and she tried to ignore the way his tuxedo slacks hugged the curve of his ass and firm lines of his thighs. The grin he shot her over his shoulder told her he knew her thoughts, for free.

  She leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, affecting a casual pose when the reactions churning within her were anything but calm. “What have you found out so far about Chelsea’s disappearance?”

  Jared moved to his dresser and looked at her in the mirror as he tucked the bowtie from his tux into a drawer and undid his cufflinks. “Chelsea was hired to work at a private party at Legacy the night she disappeared. Her planner had the name Stone written beside the time. Video surveillance shows her arriving, but not leaving. That was a month ago. I haven’t come across anything about her since.” He leaned back against the dresser, suddenly looking lost. “That’s why I need your help.” His gaze was hard now as it met hers. “I’ve been patient long enough. I could have taken you from the rooftop, or at the cowboy bar, or in Stone’s office and forced answers out of you, but I didn’t.”

  It pricked her pride that he thought she was such an easy mark, but even more than that, she wanted to know why he’d held back—not that he could have overtaken her, but she was curious. “Why not?”

  He crossed the room, stopping only a couple of feet away. “I sensed you’d only resist, and I can’t afford another dead end. I feel like I’m running out of time—if Chelsea’s still alive.”

  Her heart flip-flopped as she caught the pain behind his words.

  “I’m sure you feel similarly about Loretta,” he added.

  “Her father hired me to find her. I’m not sure if he wants me to continue the search, but I can’t give up.”

  He frowned. “You haven’t heard the news, then?”

  “News?”

  “I’m sorry, Skye. Mark Sheldon… His body was found at the ranch. He’d been shot.”

  “He was the other casualty.” She slumped against the doorjamb. He reached for her but dropped his hand when she shook her head. It wasn’t that she didn’t want comfort. She desperately did. And that scared her. She didn’t deserve his comfort, couldn’t let herself depend on it, even for a second. Dependence was weakness.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Jared’s gentle words washed over her like a balm. “Was he a friend? Something more?”

  “Not much more than a cohabitant on the ranch, and the father of a friend. I knew there’d been another body found besides Darren’s, but it hadn’t been identified.” She squeezed her eyes shut as the full impact hit her. “I can’t even tell Loretta. If she’s run away, I at least need to find her to give her this news.” If Loretta were even alive to be told. She opened her eyes and met Jared’s understanding gaze. “I don’t know if she left the ranch willingly or was abducted, or if she’s alive or dead.”

  “It’s the same with Chelsea.”

  “All I know is her note indicated she left because Stone promised her a part in his next movie. Do you know if he’s capable of harming them?”

  “I don’t know. The man’s secretive, even among his security team, but I’ve heard things.”

  “Things that make you think he’s dangerous.”

  He moved into the closet, beyond her view, but his voice called back to her. “In my gut, I’m more sure than ever that Stone is up to no good. The man’s ego is as large as his corporation. Are you ready to trust me?” He exited the closet in sweatpants and a T-shirt, and still her mouth watered.

  “I’m ready to try,” she admitted. Her body was apparently already on board. She just had to convince her brain.

  He eyed the gun still in her hand, pointed at the floor. Reluctant to let him touch her, she moved aside as he passed through the doorway. The man had a unique effect on her body, and she liked it entirely too much. She could have sworn he’d grinned at her reaction, but he didn’t say anything as she followed him to the kitchen. There, she placed her weapon on the counter.

  He opened the refrigerator. “I’ll make us dinner while we talk. I suppose you could call it a midnight snack at this hour, but I have a steak thawed.”

  Her stomach rumbled but she didn’t take charity. And she didn’t eat food people other than Uncle Tom or herself had prepared. “No, thanks.”

  “Come on. I won’t bite. We’re partners now, right? Trust is important to me.”

  It was the solemnity in his expression that had her moving around the kitchen to Jared’s side. “Fine. But only if you let me help.”

  “You’re my guest, but it’s obvious that you think I’ll poison you, so I’ll let you help.” He jerked his head toward the refrigerator. “There are salad fixings in there if you want to throw them together.” He turned back to the stovetop grill he’d preheated and laid the huge T-bone on it, then sprinkled salt and pepper to season it. “It’s only one steak, but it’s big enough to share.”

  Sharing a steak sounded a bit like a date, and too intimate for the talk they’d be having, but she was starving. Besides, if they were sharing, he definitely wouldn’t be drugging the food.

  She began chopping veggies, relaxing at the familiarity of it all. She used to help Tom cook for a small army. Colorful bell pepper, mushrooms, and chunks of bright red tomato flew beneath her blade as she chopped with practiced ease, and not once did she think about using the knife as a weapon.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him pull silverware from a drawer. His hands were beautiful—wide, with long tan fingers and trim nails. She remembered admiring them the first time she’d seen him on the rooftop. The toned muscles of his forearms rippled. His biceps flexed beneath his shirt as he moved with confidence.

  She raised her gaze to find him watching her, his head tipped as if he were studying a puzzle. “What?” she asked.

  “I’m trying to figure you out.”

  Her body tingled, but she kept her hands busy sliding the chopped vegetables into a bowl. “I’m not that complicated. Besides, why bother? We only have to work together for a short while.”

  “But working together requires trust, which comes from knowing each other. Don’t you want to get to know me? You sure as hell interest me.” The sizzle and pop wasn’t from the stove. The air seemed charged with whatever was brewing between them. “I think I liked you even when you were a potential threat to me on that roof, lying through your teeth with the bag full of guns at your feet. And I didn’t want to like you, because you’re supposed to be a means to an end.” He stepped closer. “I think the salad’s done.”

  She tensed and he took the knife from her fingers, setting it on the cutting board. He reached over her shoulder to the cabinet door behind her. The smell of warm male mingled with grilled steak, and she waited a long moment before releasing her breath, as if she could hold his essence within her. She was pitifully close to dropping all her boundaries, stepping into him, and pressing her nose to the underside of his jaw. She’d like a taste of the skin there.

  No man had been physically close to her in over a year, unless she counted sparring in the Pit. But sexually? She’d
limited those encounters and never let the partner linger. And she’d always—always—been in control of her emotions, her body, and the relationship itself. These emotions, and the uncertainty they stirred, were foreign and frightening.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Just getting a couple of plates.” He set them on the counter but didn’t move away. Instead, he seemed to lean a little closer. His breath stirred the hairs at her temple. His mouth was on level with her eyes and she could see the full softness of his lips. Her muscles tightened, ready to both attack and submit to him.

  But where would an affair between them get her? After they found the women they were looking for, there was no connection between them, nothing holding them together.

  So what, exactly, is the problem? Her libido piped up with the question. Normally, brief and satisfying was her thing. But some innate warning system told her Jared was different, that once she crossed that line with him, there would be no going back to her old life.

  He scanned her face and must have read her confusion because he backed away, regret dousing the heat in his eyes, and went back to the grill to transfer the steak onto a plate.

  They worked in surprisingly companionable silence for a few minutes, as if agreeing not to address their issues with each other until the meal was prepared and other needs satisfied, but her eyes were always on him, covertly watching his every move. He liked her? Why did that have such a powerful effect on her?

  “There are beers in the fridge,” he said as he carried the food to the table. “Or there’s soda or water. All of them sealed.” So he’d noticed her idiosyncrasy. Most people thought her preference was odd. He addressed it as if it was no big deal and she felt a twinge of gratitude.

  “Beer’s fine. Bottle opener?”

  “Second drawer on the left.”

  They sat in the small dining area just off the kitchen. It seemed more close and intimate than the one at the ranch, but that was quite possibly due to the man sitting across from her.