by Alice Orr
“What did you find?” she asked to cover her confusion.
She indicated the file he was holding. Slater glanced back at the folder as if surprised to find it still in his hand.
“This one picture really delivers the goods,” he said. “This is a café in Bogotá.” He pointed to the obviously Latin American scene. “I’ve been there, specifically to investigate the people he’s sitting with in this shot.”
Phoenix examined the photo Slater indicated. None of it meant anything to her.
“Why would Laurent think that my seeing this could put him in jeopardy?” she asked.
“Maybe he’s overly suspicious. That happens a lot of times with people who have things to hide. Or, maybe there’s more in his files than just these pictures that could hook him up with specific crimes. What matters is that these photos give us justification for a search warrant into his files.”
“Shouldn’t you have had a warrant to see these in the first place?”
“We’ll find a way around that.”
“Who are the ‘we’ you’re referring to?”
“Myself and the people I work for. I can say that you, as an employee, invited me here. Or that you found the photos yourself and brought them to me,” he said.
“But I’m not an employee here any longer.”
“Don’t worry. Our legal people will work something out.”
“I’m sure you will,” Phoenix said.
She couldn’t help the annoyance she was feeling. Getting around the narrow and true way of doing things was obviously not new territory for Slater. He did it all the time. He’d done it with her. He even did it for a living. She’d never had much respect for the end justifying the means. She found herself thinking that, if she and Slater were going to be together, he’d have to work on changing some of his ways. She stopped herself in midthought Whatever gave her the idea that she and Slater would be together in the first place?
“Let’s get out of here,” she said. She could hear how exasperated she sounded. “You’ve got what you need.”
She turned on her heel then, grabbing her jacket from the chair where she’d left it, and headed for the door out of the room. She heard Slater shut the file drawer and hurry after her, but she didn’t look back. She was angry, and the fact that she wasn’t exactly sure why made her angrier still. Maybe that anger was what kept her from being more cautious. Maybe that anger was the reason she yanked open the exit door from the reception foyer without thinking and without noticing that Beldon Laurent and SideMan Sax were behind the beveled glass on the other side.
SHE’D CHARGED AT the door before Slater could stop her. It was never a good idea to move into new territory that fast. The thought made him look toward the door just as Phoenix reached it. The two figures beyond the thick, pebbly glass were distorted but definitely there.
“Phoenix, stop,” Slater called out, trying to keep his voice low enough so that only she could hear it. “Don’t open the door.”
Whether he’d been heard or not was, unfortunately, irrelevant. She’d already turned the knob and pulled. She stood staring at the two men in the doorway. Sax was wearing his usual sneer, and he had a gun in his hand. Slater had also pulled the Beretta from his waistband, but Sax was pointing his weapon directly at Phoenix’s heart.
“Drop it,” he said with a smirk toward Slater. “You know what I’ll do if you don’t.”
Slater knew all right, and he had no doubt that Sax would follow through on his promise. Slater lowered his weapon to the floor.
“That’s more like it,” Sax sneered as he and Laurent stepped into the office and Laurent closed the door behind them. “I got the drop on you and your girlfriend for good this time. There ain’t going to be any of your damned Mex buddies coming along to save you, either.”
“Please, please,” said Laurent in his usual oily tone. “I dislike ethnic references. They are completely out of character with the public-spirited person I’ve become. I must not have my associates besmirching the image Ms. Farraday has so brilliantly concocted for me.”
Slater saw Phoenix flinch at that. She’d backed into the office still clutching her jacket. She was looking more distressed by the moment. Slater hoped she could keep her head together long enough to help out if he found an opening to take Sax down. Maybe she could grab something from the desk and throw it. Slater decided it would be good to keep Laurent talking. Maybe that would give Phoenix time to compose herself. She had to get out of range of Sax’s gun at least before Slater could make a move.
“I’m surprised you still have Sax here as an associate,” Slater said to Laurent. “I would have thought you’d leave him in Mexico. He’s going to be pretty hot for you to handle before long.”
“Why do you say that?” Laurent asked pulling off his kidskin gloves to reveal the pinky ring flashing on his finger.
“Let’s just say that a little birdie told me,” Slater answered. “A little birdie from down Washington D.C. way.”
“He’s a Fed!” Sax snapped. “I told you I had a feeling this guy was a plant all along.”
Sax gestured his gun barrel toward Slater, who tensed to attack, then hesitated. Phoenix was still in easy range of Sax’s gun. Before Slater could decide whether to risk it or not, she let out a howl that startled even him.
“Oh, no. This is all my fault,” she wailed. “What will I do? What will I do?”
Great, Slater thought. She’s losing it. Or, is she?
A flashing glint in Phoenix’s eye told Slater she was faking. She was creating a distraction. And, it worked. For an instant, Sax and Laurent looked just confused enough for Slater to know his moment had arrived. He ducked to the floor in a lightning movement then arced up again fast He was on a collision course toward Sax. Out of the corner of his eye, Slater saw Phoenix lift that monster down jacket of hers and fling it over Laurent. She was around Laurent in a streak, wrapping him tight in the huge garment so that even his head was covered. She had it on him back to front and was busily securing the Velcro strips behind him like a straitjacket. Laurent’s muffled cries could barely be heard through all of that goose down.
In the same moment as Phoenix’s leap, Slater’s fist connected with Sax’s wrist, and his gun went flying across the room. Sax yelped and grabbed his wrist. Slater could get a grip on both of Sax’s hands at once that way. Slater doubled his free hand into a fist, and he swung with more force than he’d ever used against anybody in his life. The muscles in his surf-ravaged shoulder screamed in renewed agony, but he didn’t let himself pay attention to that. The sensation of his punch striking Sax’s jaw was worth the cost.
Sax groaned and dropped to the floor as Slater scrambled first for Sax’s gun and then for his own Beretta. He frisked Sax’s motionless body for a backup piece but found only a knife in his boot. He was still out cold.
“This guy’s got a glass jaw as shiny as his suits,” Slater said.
“This one’s all wrapped up, too,” Phoenix added with a smile Slater was really glad to see again at last.
Laurent had fallen to the floor, or maybe she’d pushed him down there. Slater had been too busy with Sax to notice. Laurent was flopping around and emitting strangled whoops from inside the jacket that appeared to swaddle him more tightly with every squirm. Slater couldn’t help wondering what New York society would think of Beldon Laurent if they could see him now.
PHOENIX HAD ONE MORE visit to make to Beldon Laurent’s office, and one more thing to do before she left the image enhancement business entirely behind. Two days had passed since she and Slater took on Laurent and his hired thug. She’d spent most of that time doing her best to convince herself it was good that she’d probably never see Slater again because they obviously came from opposite corners of the universe, too far apart to be reconciled. Besides, she’d been a job assignment to him, nothing more, nothing less. Whatever intimacy had grown between them was just one of those passing things for him. Otherwise, he’d have been in touch with her by
now, and she hadn’t heard a word from Slater McCain since the last time she saw him, here in this same hallway leading to Laurent’s former domain.
Phoenix sighed as she saw that the crime scene tape was still in place across Laurent’s threshold and a federally issued padlock was on the door. Phoenix’s key wasn’t going to work after all. Another hassle to contend with, as if she wasn’t already feeling discouraged enough. She sighed again and stuffed the key back into her purse. She’d have to go through a mountain of red tape to get back inside here. She hoped her downcast spirit would allow her enough energy to get through all of that.
“Let me be of assistance.”
The voice she’d heard in her thoughts and dreams for almost forty-eight hours sounded even more wonderful, and even more devastating, in person. Phoenix whirled around and unintentionally caught Slater in the elbow. He moaned, and that was when she saw that his arm was in a sling.
“I’m so sorry,” she said before she could think to act cool and distant like she’d told herself she would if and when she ever did happen to encounter him again.
“I’ll live,” he said, though he did look pained.
“What are you doing here? I thought your part of this investigation was finished.”
“Let’s just say I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”
“You’ve been following me?”
“It’s one of the things I do best, you know,” he said.
As so often seemed to happen when she was with him, Phoenix wasn’t certain whether to be flattered or angry.
“I had to know what you’d do next,” he said, more softly than was usual for him. “And, maybe I had to think about what I should do next, too.”
“So you put me under surveillance?”
“Yes, I did, and I don’t think I’ve ever been on the trail of a more solid citizen in my entire career.”
“I suppose I should be glad to hear that, but I’m not accustomed to having my privacy invaded. At least, I wasn’t till I met you.”
“Well, you should be glad I did it this time,” he said with an exasperating, though undeniably attractive twinkle in his eye. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here now with this.” He dangled a key in front of her. “A little leftover from the investigation.”
She guessed he was referring to the police padlock on Laurent’s office door. She reached for the key. In that instant, his one good arm swept around her, and his lips were on hers. Somewhere in the timeless space of a long, deep kiss, Phoenix forgot all about being cool and distant and all about the universe of difference that separated them in so many ways. All she could remember was that, somewhere between a hot night in Acapulco and this frigid afternoon in Manhattan, she had fallen in love.
“I guess I could use your services for changing my image some,” Slater said when they finally could breathe well enough to speak again and had let themselves into Laurent’s former office.
“What did you have in mind?”
Phoenix was collecting the plaques from the hallway wall. She would contact every one of these organizations with the real facts about Beldon Laurent and her own apology, too.
“Something on the order of making me into the kind of man who knows the truth from the lies for sure again.”
Slater’s green eyes told the truth of what he was feeling right now. Phoenix was certain of that.
“You may have to stay above ground for a while to make that happen,” she said.
“I’m ready for the light of day as long as it’s shining on the two of us together.”
“It’s a deal,” she said. “You’ll be my final client.”
“I have to warn you I’m a tough case. I anticipate that this will be a lifetime project for you.”
Phoenix smiled up at him. “I know,” she said, and they kissed again.
eISBN 978-14592-6157-0
HEAT OF PASSION
Copyright © 1998 by Alice Orr
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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Printed in U.S.A.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Books by Alice Orr
Title Page
Dedication
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Copyright