by Dee Davis
Shaking his head at his own gullibility, he checked the bathroom and the balcony, with no better results. Alexis wasn’t in the apartment. He felt like a fool. How quickly he’d forgotten everything he’d ever learned on the job. Trust no one. Always expect the worst. And never let your guard down.
He felt like a rookie operative just out of training. But even then he hadn’t been this stupid. Blowing out a long breath, he tried to think where she might have gone. She’d seemed so genuine when she’d said she was going to retire for the night.
Fuck.
The curtains in the bedroom window fluttered in a sudden gust of wind, and he caught a glimpse of the fire escape as the gauzy material billowed. At least now he knew how she’d managed to get out.
Double fuck.
He crossed to the window and was in the process of straddling the sill when he heard a small gasp of surprise coming from his left.
She was curled into the corner of the fire escape, her long legs bare, the soft white cotton of her tank outlining her breasts with mouthwatering clarity. The light from the street below turned her hair almost silvery. Ethereal. And he found himself short of breath. As if he’d entered into the presence of something truly special.
Ridiculous thought.
He shook his head, breaking the spell. At least she hadn’t run.
“What are you doing out here?” The words came out sharper than he’d intended, relief making him sound harsh.
“Watching the stars,” she whispered, lifting her face to the sky. “When I was little, we moved around a lot. And when I was sad about it—which was most of the time—my father would take me up on the rooftop wherever we were and show me the stars. He’d always say that they’re the same no matter where you go. It was his way of reassuring me that some things never changed. That everything was going to be all right.”
“And did it work?”
“Yeah,” she said, pushing to her feet. “Sometimes. Anyway, I don’t know what I was thinking. He’s been gone a long time now. I guess I was just looking for some perspective. Stupid, I know.”
“Not at all. I think everyone needs a compass. External or otherwise. And the stars have been guiding mankind for a hell of a long time. I’d say they’re as good as anything else when it comes to figuring out where you stand. So did you find that perspective?”
“No.” She shook her head, her long hair dancing in the light. “Not that easy, I guess. Just feels like I’ve been down this path before.”
“I’m not following. Someone’s tried to kidnap you before today?”
“No. But it seems like I’ve been running my whole life. For one reason or another. This is just the latest in a long line.”
Alexis crossed her arms and leaned against the railing, the movement pushing her breasts higher, and Tucker stepped farther back into shadow, not convinced he could control his body’s reaction to hers. She was totally oblivious of the way she looked, unaware of the fact that she was stealing his breath away.
Again.
Maybe that was what was so damn compelling about her. He’d first seen it at Weatherbees, an almost lethal combination of innocence and sensuality. He’d never met a woman so completely unaware of her femininity and yet so completely embodying it.
Somewhere in the distance a saxophone wailed, almost as if someone had cued the music. Laughter drifted up from the street below, and the air was heavy with the scent of flowers and the imminent fall of rain.
“I brought some of your clothes,” he said, waving through the window at the duffel he’d thrown on the bed. “No idea if I got what you wanted. But I figured you’d be happier with your own things.”
Her smile was slow as she turned around. “That was really nice.”
They stood for a minute, energy passing between them, the electric current almost physical. He took a step forward, then stopped himself, fists clenching as his body tightened.
She licked her lips, her gaze still locked with his. “What you did for me, today…” She trailed off.
“I was just in the right place at the right time.” He shrugged, still trying to contain his rising attraction.
She took a step closer, her eyes shining in the starlight. “I’m not very good at saying thank you. Too much time on my own, I guess.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
She reached out, her hand inches from his face. “I know, but I just… if you hadn’t… what I mean is…” Something indefinable crossed her face. Pain, maybe, or something more. All he knew was that he wanted to pull her into his arms. To make promises he knew damn well he couldn’t keep.
Then, with a soft laugh, she shook her head, the moment broken. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” She gave a little shrug, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “I’m not usually so emotional. Or sentimental.” She turned her back on the stars. “Why don’t we go back inside and I’ll get dressed and then we can talk?”
Tucker nodded, the tension between them dissipating as suddenly as it had come. “It might make it easier for me to concentrate. Not that I’m complaining about the view.”
Her answering laugh was lost on a gust of wind as she climbed back through the window. Tucker stood for a moment watching the heat lightning in the distance, the bank of clouds black against the night sky as it moved toward the city, already beginning to obliterate the stars.
He’d never really spent a lot of time staring at the heavens. In Colombia, the trees had formed a canopy that blocked the sky. And in Redlands—hell, the truth was he’d never looked up. He wasn’t the introspective type.
He grasped the railing, angry at himself for letting Alexis get to him. For all he knew, the woman was trying to sell plans for what could potentially lead to the world’s most dangerous weapon.
He climbed back into the bedroom to find her standing by the french doors, dressed now in a pair of sweats and a second tank. The look was less revealing, but the woman was no less attractive. Maybe Hannah had been right. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this. It was too soon and too much had happened.
“Why don’t we go into the living room?” Tucker asked. “I could use a cup of coffee.” In truth, he could use a cold shower, but that seemed a bit obvious.
“Sounds good,” Alexis said, following him over to the peninsula that separated the tiny kitchen from the living area, thankfully unaware of his train of thought. “Did you find anything at the house?”
“No. Someone had been there before me. Cleared out the body along with any solid evidence.” He measured coffee into the percolator and then filled it with water.
“What about the car? Did you make sure it couldn’t be tracked back to us?”
“Yes. I left it in Metairie, near a dealership. And I wiped it down. As soon as it’s discovered, it’ll be returned to its owner. No harm. No foul.”
“Good.” She nodded, slipping onto one of the barstools in front of the counter. “I guess retrieving my car is out of the question?”
“Absolutely. Anyway, I thought technically it belonged with the house.”
“It does. It’s just that I’ve gotten kind of used to it after all this time. It’s such a beast. I guess I’ll kind of miss it.”
“Well, maybe when this is over you can get it back.” The coffee pot hissed as the last of the water dripped into the pot.
“When this is over”—she sighed, accepting the cup of coffee he offered—“we don’t even know what this is.”
“I was kind of hoping you could help me with that. Surely you’ve got some idea as to what’s going on?”
“No, I don’t.” Alexis cupped her hands around the mug. “I told you, I walked out on George before he had the chance to tell me anything. And our conversations while he was in jail were limited. He didn’t want me to come and see him, and they monitor all the mail. So I’ve got no idea what any of this is about.”
“Any chance it could be about you? I mean you were there at the diner too. If you hadn’t run off—”
<
br /> “I’d be dead too? So you told me.” A shadow crossed her face, but she shook her head.
“Look, I’m just trying to put this together. And you’ve got to admit you’re up to your neck in something. Depending on your take, the men here were either trying to kidnap or kill you. Which makes it valid to ask if this is somehow about you.”
“And I got George killed?” She shuddered, tipping back her head, eyes closed. “Don’t you think I’ve thought about that? But I’ve been over it and over it. And I’m telling you there’s nothing. I live a really quiet life.”
“What about work?” he asked, thinking that she was definitely hiding something. It was there in the set of her shoulders, the tight lines around her mouth. But whatever it was, she wasn’t ready to share it with him. He’d have to earn her trust first.
“I don’t actually have a job.” She opened her eyes, staring down at her hands, and then lifted her gaze to meet his. “I have money. Not a lot—but enough to get by. George made sure I’d be all right before he went away.”
“He cared a lot about you,” Tucker agreed, well aware that he was treading on sensitive ground. “How long have you known him? You said you gave him the bracelet.” He tipped his head toward the beaded leather around her wrist. “I assume when you were a kid?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I made it at camp. I couldn’t wait to give it to him. He said he’d never take it off.” She traced the line of the beading. “God, I can’t believe he’s dead. It just all seems so surreal.”
“Don’t you have any other family? You mentioned your dad was gone. But what about your mom? Or maybe siblings?”
She dipped her head again, her hair swinging forward, hiding her face. “There’s no one. They’re all dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She lifted her head, twisting her hair into a ponytail, the effort making her look suddenly older. “I’m used to it. Even with George. It’s not like he’s been around, you know?”
“Yes, but if he’s all you had left, then that makes his death that much harder to take.”
She tipped her head studying him with clear, gray eyes. “So you said you met George in prison. Why were you there?”
“Wrong place, wrong time. I was framed for something I didn’t do. ”
“And George helped you out.” The shadow of a smile crossed her face. “He’s always been like that. Helping other people, I mean. After my family”—she swallowed, pain cresting in her eyes—“he was… he was there for me. Holding me together, quite literally sometimes.”
“That’s pretty much the way it was with me. I lost someone very important to me. And then wound up incarcerated for something I didn’t do. I didn’t think I’d ever be a free man again. But George believed me. And he called on some friends who ultimately dug up the information that set me free.”
“So when did he mention me?” She took a sip from her mug, her gaze inquisitive.
“After we’d gotten to know each other. Trust each other. I told you prison is like camp. You make decisions about who to trust a lot more quickly on the inside. Who you ally yourself with can be the difference between living and dying in there.”
He thought about Madeline and the bonds they’d formed in San Mateo. His brother’s wife had quite literally saved his life. She was as much a part of his family as Drake. Had been even before he’d known that she’d fallen for his brother.
“You’re smiling,” Alexis said, pulling him from his reverie. “It must be a good memory.”
“Just a fierce loyalty. One that’s deserved.” She, of course, thought he was talking about George Atterley, and he had no intention of disabusing her of the notion.
“George was lucky to have a friend like you.”
“It went both ways. Anyway, he talked about you a lot. But only in generalities. So if you’re worried that I know things I shouldn’t, I don’t.”
“There’s nothing to know,” she said, her denial too quick, too practiced, to ring completely true. “So when exactly did he ask you to watch out for me?”
“It was after I got out of jail. Maybe a week before he was released. He said he needed a favor. That if anything happened to him, he needed for me to watch out for you. That’s it. I’ve told you everything I know. He asked me to meet him at the diner. Said that you’d be there and he’d introduce us. You know the rest.”
“None of this makes any sense. I’ve never had anything to do with George’s business dealings. He was really careful to keep me separated from all of that. So there’s no reason for anyone to be after me.”
“Except that they clearly are. And it’s pretty clear from the way they left your place that they were looking for something.”
“But I told you, I haven’t got anything.”
“Maybe it’s something you don’t realize you have. What about your lockbox? You mentioned it in the car. You said you kept your pack there.”
“And some money. But there’s nothing in the pack except a few remnants from my childhood. A book, some photos, a rock—you know, childhood keepsakes.”
“I guess that explains the purple and pink.”
“It was very chic when I was in high school.” She laughed, the sound surprisingly melodious. “Or at least that’s what I told myself. Anyway, it’s just a bunch of stuff from when I was little. Nothing anyone would want to steal.”
“So why keep it in a lockbox?”
“It’s silly, really. But George insisted I have the box as an exit strategy. Some money, some papers, things I’d need if I ever had to make a quick getaway.”
“I thought you said you had a boring life.”
Her eyes sparked with anger. “I said quiet. Not boring. But it was never about my life.” Her fingers tightened around the mug and again he had the sense that she was holding something back. “He just wanted me to be prepared.”
“In case something went wrong.”
“Look, you say you knew George. You met him in prison, for God’s sake. So you have to know the kind of life he led. The possibility was always there that someone would try to get to him through me.”
“Except that George is dead.” He hadn’t meant to sound so condemning, but he couldn’t take the words back.
“And now you’re thinking maybe I had something to do with it? Come on. You saw my house. Saw the man trying to kidnap me. You were there when the bullets started flying. Not exactly the kind of thing that makes me look like the one pulling the strings.”
He held up a hand in protest. “I wasn’t implying anything. I was just trying to examine what’s happened from every possible angle. The best way to figure out what’s going on is for us to be honest with each other.”
Again the shadow of something chased across her face. “I’m trying. But you have to understand, I’ve spent my whole life staying off the radar. It was George’s way, and he was all I had. So it isn’t easy for me to put my faith in a man I barely know—no matter how many times he saves my life.”
“Well, at least you’re giving me some credit for being on your side.”
“I don’t doubt that you’re on my side, Tucker.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “It’s just the reasons behind your decision that I’m still a little hazy about. But for now, you’re all I’ve got. And I definitely need help. So why don’t we agree to at least trust for the moment?”
He had a feeling it was something she didn’t offer lightly, so he nodded solemnly. “Agreed.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Then I think I know what our first move should be.”
He waited, sipping his coffee, his senses prickling.
“Someone tried to get into my safe deposit box while I was in California. I didn’t want to stir up anything when I found out. I just wanted to get my things and get the hell out of Dodge. But before I had the chance, everything went crazy. Anyway, I’m betting there’s security footage. And if we can figure out how to get our hands on it, maybe that’ll give us s
omething more to go on.”
“Well, there’s no way you can go back to the bank. There’s sure to be someone watching. And if I go, I’ll run into the same problems as the guy who tried before. But I have an idea where we can go for help.”
“You want to call in someone from the outside?” She leaned back, crossing her arms, eyes narrowed. “How do I know this isn’t a trick of some kind?”
Tucker shook his head in impatience. “Look, we’ve covered this ground before. If I was out to get you, I’d have done it already. I’m here to help, and I’ve got a friend—well, more a friend of a friend—who’s a whiz with computers. A hacker, as it were.”
“Actually, now that you mention it, I know one too. A good friend, actually. And he’s right here in New Orleans.”
“Was he a friend of George’s?” Tucker asked, his mind racing to find the right words to dissuade her. His brother and Hannah couldn’t stay in New Orleans indefinitely and even if they could, direct contact was a risk. He needed an inside man.
“Yeah, why?” Alexis asked, eyes narrowed.
“Because until we know what we’re facing, we can’t trust anyone with a connection to George.”
“Milo would never hurt me.”
“I’m not saying he would. I’m just saying with my man, we can be certain there aren’t any conflicting interests.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, considering that Harrison Blake was A-Tac’s tech guru and that his mission, like Tucker’s, was to find the formula. But it was like Alexis had said—for the moment there was trust and their goals coincided. And for now, that would just have to be enough.
CHAPTER 8
So this guy just dropped everything to come here and help us?” Alexis asked as they walked across Jackson Square toward a small hotel at the corner of Chartres and St. Peter. She’d followed Tucker’s instructions to the letter, donning sunglasses and tucking her hair under a hat, her tennis shoes and shorts making her look like every other tourist in the square. In the center, a statue of Andrew Jackson held court with the facade of St. Louis Cathedral in the background. On both sides, walkways lined with artists and small shops were crowded with people.