by Deanna Chase
I peeked around the door to see two hulking Mexicans standing over Destiny, one pointing a gun at her. The prop cabinet was overturned, and sex toys were strewn across the floor.
“Not a good idea to lie to El Caos, woman. Gomez didn’t have the codes on him when they wheeled him into the morgue, and our friend in the cop shop said they aren’t in evidence either. So where the fuck did they go?”
Destiny swiped at her running makeup. “I don’t know...maybe...I guess Misty could have took ‘em.”
Me???? I hadn’t so much as touched that body! What was Destiny doing, pointing a finger at me?
“She that redhead who the police questioned?”
“Y-yeah. She’s here somewhere. I know she’s working.”
The one with the gun snapped at the other, “You go find the other girl. I’ll work on this one.”
Not having time to run, I stumbled back and pressed myself to the wall. An ugly man with a lazy eye stepped into the hall and looked right at me. In the split second it took him to register I was the redhead he was looking for, I sent a nudge. Nobody here.
The man’s face morphed from recognition to blankness before he turned and strode out in the other direction to the main club.
My breath grew ragged, and I reckoned I was well on my way to a panic attack. I had to get the hell out of there, like now.
I ran down the hall and out the back door. The cool night air reminded me that I wore nothing but a bra and underwear, and I didn’t have my car keys. I hustled down the littered pavement anyway, too freaked out for modesty. Spotting the alcove where that guy Jace had snatched me the night before, I ducked into the shadow just in time to hear the back door of the club swing open.
“Find the bitch!”
I crouched down, making myself as small as possible. I fumbled my phone open and dialed 9-1... Shit, I couldn’t call the cops on El Caos! They said they had contacts in the local police department.
I scrolled through my contacts. Most of my friends lived five hours away in my hometown of McCamey. My neighbor April would be working...
The lazy-eyed man I’d nudged in the hallway appeared in the alley in front of me, glancing from right to left, checking behind dumpsters and in doorways. When his eyes fell on me, I was ready, and I pushed the image of a garbage bag sitting in the alcove where I hid. The man’s gaze slid past me, and he kept walking.
My calves cramped from the uncomfortable position, but I didn’t dare move. Remembering my ringer, I pushed it to the off position. The last thing I needed was for some telemarketer to call and Carrie Underwood to start blaring. Out in the alley, the man scared up a cat in his search for me, and he cussed under his breath. I hoped the little critter clawed him in the balls.
I scooted my foot uncomfortably and saw a white rectangle sticking out beneath my heel. Holy Jesus! It was Jace’s business card, the one I’d dropped last night when I made my escape. I picked it up and stared at the number. Did I dare call? I didn’t see I had much choice. My fingers were dialing before my brain could make them stop.
Jace answered on the first ring. “Who’s this?”
Didn’t anyone ever teach him the polite way to answer of phone?
“Marley,” I whispered, barely above a breath.
“What? Marley? That you?”
Goddammit! I couldn’t talk. My nudges could only hide me so much. “I’ll text you,” I said, hanging up. My phone didn’t have a keyboard like the newer models, so I’d gotten used to texting with the number keys. Quickly I typed out, “Help. EC after me.”
“Where?”
“Alley.”
“There in 10.”
I closed the phone and tried to calm my breathing. Ten minutes? What the holy hell was I supposed to do for ten minutes? As tempting as it was to review all the major life decisions that had led me to this point of hiding in my underwear in a dirty alley, it didn’t seem very productive. Instead I listened, and looked around the little alcove for something to use as a weapon—nothing, unless I could figure out a way to fend off an attacker with cigarette butts and gum wrappers.
My feet grew numb, and I figured I’d need them to be functional at some point, so I straightened up to a standing position. It was funny. I didn’t have any problem prancing around mostly naked in The Henhouse, but outside in the real word, it was damn intimidating. And the thought of Jace seeing me in barely-there boy shorts and a push-up bra was maddening. I couldn’t believe I’d called him to rescue me like some horror movie bimbo.
The alley went still. I waited for several long minutes, and was considering poking my head out to see if the cost was clear, when the echoing steps of the Mexican returned. I smooshed myself into the corner as tightly as possible, but he didn’t look my way as he passed.
“Where the fuck is she?” he called out.
From further down the block in the other direction, I heard a muffled reply. I couldn’t make all of it out, but the words “kill” and “bitch” rang clear as a Windex commercial.
Behind me, the door shifted, and my heart did a painful summersault. I caught my yelp in time to turn it into a soft squeak. Jace’s face appeared in the crack, surveying the situation. Then he grabbed my arm and hauled me into a dark backroom filled with cardboard boxes. He pressed a finger to his lips in warning not to speak. He drew a small object out of his pocket and held it between his ear and the door, presumably listening. Where did he get all these spy toys? Must be a MacGyver fetish.
A fat shiver ran through me, and I realized for the first time just how cold it was. I tried to remember what this building was. A closer look at the boxes showed dry goods and cases of alcohol. Must be the backroom of that bodega.
Jace pocketed the little gadget, grabbed my hand and led me through the dark to the front of the building. Yep, it was a bodega, all closed up and dark for the night. At the front of the store, he peered out cracks in the shuttered windows, checking for dangers on the street.
“Okay,” he said, still looking outside. “Wanna explain to me what’s going on?”
I quickly related the conversation I’d overheard and how Destiny basically blamed me for stealing some codes.
“Did you?”
“Do I look stupid to you?”
“No. But if you’re not working for El Caos, you might be a plant from a rival gang.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh lord, don’t tell me you still think I’m some sort of magical assassin. I thought we’d moved beyond that.”
Jace’s mouth twitched into an almost smile. “Tell me about the guys who chased you.”
I described them as best as I could. When I mentioned the lazy eye, Jace’s jaw tightened.
“You look like you know who I’m talking about,” I observed.
“Yeah. Sounds like this guy Roberto. He’s an enforcer.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not. He’s bad news. Listen, my car’s outside. I need to reset the security system on this place, and then I’ll drive you home.”
While Jace was fiddling with a panel behind the register, I looked around for something that might possibly pass for clothing. Nothing. I was holding a roll of paper towels and contemplating how I might be able to wrap myself in them when Jace returned and said, “Let’s go.”
“I can’t go out there naked!”
His eyes swept over me, as if just now noticing my state of undress. Either he was excellent at schooling his features, or I didn’t interest him in the slightest.
“We have about forty seconds left before that alarm comes on. It has a motion sensor. You can take your chances with me, or explain yourself to the cops when they arrive. I’m leaving.”
He turned to the door.
“Wait! Give me your jacket.”
He glared at me. “Fine.” He slipped it off and handed it to me. “But stay out of the pockets. There are things in there that can hurt you. And leave your hair tucked under the collar until we get in the car. That orange is like a giant sear
ch beacon.”
“My hair’s not orange,” I grumbled, but I did what he said and left it tucked in the collar. The jacket was heavier than it ought to be for such light-weight material. As we stepped outside, Jace wrapped his arm around me and held me pressed to his side.
“Pretend we’re together and you like me,” he instructed softly. “Walk casual. My car is the black Mustang parked at the end of the block.”
Even this close to midnight, people were out on the street, smoking outside bars and milling about on street corners. I leaned into Jace’s body heat. The jacket was warm enough, but I was still cold. I wanted nothing more than to go home to a hot shower. Of course in my apartment it would likely be a moderately warm shower, but I wouldn’t complain.
Aside from a couple of cat-calls as we passed a bar, people ignored us, and no armed bad guys appeared. I heaved a sigh of relief when we reached the gleaming black car. Jace tucked me into his passenger seat as if I were a perp under arrest. He’d said he was an investigator, but the move had me thinking cop. The thought was not comforting.
We didn’t talk much in the car. I debated calling Marco and explaining to him why I left work in the middle of a shift, but I had a bad feeling I was going to be fired. The only thing worse for him than a dancer bringing police attention was a dancer on the wrong side of El Caos. I stifled a groan.
Jace eased into a parking spot across from my apartment.
“Shit! I left my purse at the club.”
“So? You’ll get it tomorrow.”
“But it has my house keys in it.”
Jace rubbed his temple, and I wondered if he was getting a headache. Then, with a pained expression on his face, he turned in the opposite direction of my apartment an onto an I35 on-ramp.
“Hey, where’re we going?”
His face had all the signs of an inner struggle going on. “You don’t have money for a hotel on you, do you?”
“I have fifteen dollars tucked in my bra.”
His gaze flicked down at my cleavage and snapped back up just as quick.
“You got a friend you can stay with?”
“The closest I have to a friend in Austin is my downstairs neighbor. She works nights at a truck stop cafe, but she might be home.”
“Then I guess you’re coming home with me tonight,” he sighed.
I was starting to feel like a lost dog he’d picked up on the street, and now couldn’t wait to get rid of. Maybe I should suggest he drop me off at the pound.
Figuring the coast was clear, I moved back to my seat and clicked the belt. “Look, don’t strain yourself helping me. There’s a battered women’s shelter on Congress Avenue. Just drop me off.”
Jace clenched his hands in frustration. “Don’t be like that. It’s just...well, we need to talk ground rules.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “What rules?”
“For one, if I’m helping you, you have to promise you aren’t going to nudge me again. I won’t stand for it.”
Well, I guessed that was fair enough. “Fine. I’ll keep my thoughts to myself. What other rules you got?”
“I’m a private person. I’m not used to people in my living quarters. No getting nosey and going through my stuff.”
I laughed at that one. “You mean like running background checks on you and going through your mail? How did that DNA test come out, by the way? Did you discover my dark secret identity is Laura Bush?”
“That was different. You were part of an investigation.”
“Whatever. You don’t even have to make that one a rule. I have enough manners to stay out of other people’s business. If you just give me a couch for tonight. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”
Jace pulled off I35 and made his way into a parking lot. It was one of those big chain hotels that cater to business travelers. If Jace changed his mind and wanted to dump me off at a hotel, he’d better find one in a lower price range.
He tossed the jacket back to me. “Come on.”
“Jace, I can’t afford to stay in a place like this. Seriously, the women’s shelter will do just fine.”
“I’m not taking you to a shelter. I live here. So you better cover up, or the desk clerk will think I’m bringing home a hooker.”
Chapter 6
JC
Keeping my eyes off Marley’s legs in those white stockings while I followed her across the lobby was impossible. In fact, I’d had to pull out every acting skill in my undercover arsenal to act disinterested ever since finding her standing in the alley half-naked, the buds of her nipples poking her satin bra cups in the cold. It was stupid to give her my flak jacket, but it was better than having to pretend I didn’t have a boner.
The elevator dinged, and we stepped inside. I pressed the button for the third floor. What was I doing bringing her to my place? I could have picked the flimsy locks on her apartment door in under fifteen seconds. But this girl was no match for those goons from the club, and I wasn’t ready to let her out of my sight.
In the months I’d been living at the extended stay suite, I hadn’t invited anyone over. It was nice enough, but living in a temporary place felt too pathetic for entertaining. I considered again whether to break down and rent an apartment. When I first was pulled out of Mexico, I’d assumed I would be reassigned to another field team. The hotel suite rented by the week, and I figured it would be good enough. But now, months had passed, and no one at work seemed in a hurry to get me back out in the field.
“End of the hall,” I directed, pointing to the left.
Marley kept her hands tucked into the long sleeves of the jacket and walked in the direction I’d indicated. She hadn’t appreciated my hooker comment but couldn’t deny the truth of it, and that probably ticked her off.
I unlocked the door with my key card and held it open for her. The suite was made up of two rooms. We entered into the living area. To the right was a postage stamp sized kitchenette—mostly unused—and ahead was the seating area with a flat screen on the wall. Marley’s sharp eyes roved over the room as if filing away every detail for later use. I knew I shouldn’t have brought her here.
“I’ll, uh, get you something to wear.”
I crossed to a door leading to my bedroom. Once out of her sight, I felt my breath whoosh out of me. This was going to be fine. I’d set her up on the couch for the night, and in the morning, hustle her out on my way to work. The couch was a pullout, but those mattresses were never comfortable. No need for Marley to wake up crippled in the morning. I glanced at the king-sized bed with its pillow-top mattress and abundance of pillows. Wouldn’t the polite thing to do be to offer her my bed? One look toward the walk-in closet turned spy-gear-storeroom put an end to that line of thinking. Even if I locked the door, I’d never get any sleep with her alone in a room with my weapons.
I dug a white T-shirt out of the dresser drawer. My pants would be too long on her, and I never wore shorts. I rooted around in hopes of finding a pair of old sweats, but if I still owned any, they had to be in my rented storage unit. I said a silent prayer that the shirt would be long enough to cover her fine ass.
I returned to the living room to see Marley still rooted to her spot, biting on the edge of her thumbnail. I tossed the shirt to her. “Here you go. It should be long enough. Bathroom is through there if you want to shower.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” She slipped the jacket off, draped it over a stool at the breakfast bar. My eyes fixed on her round ass covered in white satin and framed by a lacy garter belt. Fuuuuuck....
My brain barely registered when Marley closed the bathroom door behind her. The sound of the shower running broke some sort of spell, reminding me that I was just standing there staring at the door like an idiot. I shook my head as if erasing an image from an Etch-a-Sketch and went to retrieve a couple of the extra pillows and the comforter off my bed to make her a little nest on the couch.
When that was done, I carried my jacket into the bedroom and unloaded it, storing the items away in my clo
set. As I did, my eye drifted to a small box where I kept surveillance equipment. An idea popped into my head, and before I knew it, I was setting up a bug in my own living room. Just on the off chance Marley decided to murder me in my sleep, I wanted some advance warning. With the tiny microphone tucked under the end table, I set the ear bud receiver on my night stand, ready for me to pop into my ear when I turned in. Briefly, I considered setting up a small video feed, but that would cross the line from cautious into stalkersville.
I was getting a beer from the fridge when Marley exited the steamy bathroom dressed in my T-shirt. It was too big on her, and the v-neck exposed one of her bra straps, but at least the hem felt down to mid-thigh. Marley’s face was scrubbed free of makeup and her wet curls made damp spots on the thin cotton material. The white lingerie with its lace and garters had been sexy, but this...this clean, comfortable look sent heat rushing to my cock. Wouldn’t it be nice to curl up to her looking like that every night? Christ! Where in the hell did that come from? Must be sleep deprivation.
I looked away. “Do you want a beer?”
“No, thanks. I don’t drink beer much. I’ll take a glass of water though.”
A clean-living stripper. Go figure. While I fetched her water, she perched on a stool.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked.
I shrugged, not wanting to admit the truth. “Not long.”
“Why not a real apartment?”
“It’s temporary. And I like the maid service.” That was a lie. I hated maids in my place when I was not here, so I worked it out with management to only have them come on once a week when I was home so they could change the linens and scrub the bathroom. The rest of the cleaning, I took care of myself.
Marley spotted the bright green flyer lying on the bar top. She turned it with her finger to read it better. “You don’t look like the rave type. You going to the private party upstairs?”
I almost choked on my beer. “Private party? What do you know about that?”