Harlequin Romantic Suspense January 2021

by Marie Ferrarella, Regan Black, Karen Whiddon

  The contact was utterly unexpected and thoroughly pleasant. As rough as the man might appear, his touch was gentle. She’d noted it in the park when he’d closed his hand on her upper arm. But the feel of him was doubly careful now. His fingers were warm and deft, and in just a couple of seconds, he’d freed her from the mild humiliation of being held hostage by her own clothing. And when he was done, he didn’t immediately pull away. Instead, he held her hand for another moment, examining her ring before bringing his eyes up to hers.

  “Pretty,” he said softly.

  She knew he meant the jewelry, but she tingled as if it were a compliment for her directly. “Thanks.”

  He still didn’t release her hand. “Just so we’re clear… I’m not in the habit of forcing women to take off their clothes.”

  “No?” Elle’s voice was slightly breathless.

  “Definitely not. And while we’re on the subject, I would never, ever ask for anything other than good, old-fashioned cash for payment,” he said.

  The pointedness in his statement was clear, but this time, it wasn’t embarrassment that warmed Elle. It was a surge of forceful attraction. It prickled along her skin, settled in her chest, and made her feel a little reckless. Her gaze dropped to his lips. And for a moment, her brain scrolled through a series of crazy things. Like wondering whether the full feel of his mouth would be as warm as his hands. His lips had touched her cheek back at the playground. Twice. But Elle couldn’t recall their heat well enough. And she wanted to. She considered, also, what would happen if she leaned forward to find out. She inched closer. Would he pull away? Jump back? Or sink in and kiss her with unbridled thoroughness?

  Elle’s own lips tingled with anticipation of the possible answers. And she might actually have followed through on the urge, too, if Noah hadn’t abruptly dropped her hand and taken a small step back. She stared at him, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat. Her mind seemed to bob with it.

  Were you seriously about to kiss a man you just met? While Katie is missing? While you’ve barely scratched the surface of what needs to be done to find her?

  Except as incredulous as her conscience might be, there was no denying that the resounding answer was yes.

  Like her body couldn’t quite believe it either, her hand tried to come up to her mouth. She had to order it to stay down. But she couldn’t quite tear her gaze away from Noah.

  She couldn’t recall the last time she’d thought about pressing her lips to a man’s. Before Katie, for sure. Possibly longer. And at just twenty-six years old, Elle knew it was unusual. Maybe even unreal. But how could she take a moment to even look at a man when her whole life was spent protecting Katie?

  She breathed out, wondering if the half-surprised, slightly puzzled look on her face matched the one she saw on Noah’s. She suspected it did. Maybe he felt the same, magnetic pull. And maybe it caught him off guard, too. The thought made her want to smile in an uncharacteristically dreamy way.

  Noah’s mouth opened, and Elle anticipated a confession of some kind. Instead, his light cough—and the words that followed it—swept the fantasy away.

  “You’ve, uh, got a rip,” he said.

  He took another step away, gestured to her top, and she looked down, following the direction of his finger. Sure enough, the struggle with the ring had left a gaping, jagged hole in her top. It curved from her stomach all the way to her side. As if to emphasize the size of it, a blast from the air conditioner ruffled the fabric and made goose bumps rise along her skin.

  “Hang on,” said Noah. “I’ll grab you something.”

  Elle watched him turn to his dresser, her mind attempting to find a rational reason for her desire to kiss Noah.

  Yes, he was a stranger. Last name, unknown. Backstory, unmentioned. Yet the setting was intimate. They were in his space. A motel room that screamed of illicit things. She was depending on him in a way she hadn’t depended on anyone since her mother’s death more than a decade earlier. It made perfect sense to have some kind of misguided feelings for him, even in this short space of time. There was even a word for it. Transference. But as he swung back and tossed a T-shirt her way, and her hands closed on the cotton, and Noah’s light, masculine scent filled her nose, the word misguided seemed wrong. In fact, the attraction itself was what felt right. So when he suddenly let out a curse and told her to hold still in a rough, angry voice, it wasn’t worry that made her freeze. It was disappointment that the hand he reached out was all business.

  * * *

  As Noah tried to pluck the thumbnail-sized tracking device from a spot just above Elle’s hip, it took a surprising amount of willpower not to simply toss the electronic dot aside, then drag the blond woman close and bury his mouth against hers. It was an irrational want. One he’d almost given in to just moments earlier. One that was spurred by the silky softness of her skin under the pads of his fingers as he pressed in and finally managed to pull the flat round object free.

  Get ahold of yourself, he ordered silently as he stepped a safe distance away and held up the tiny tracker for better examination. Scared moms with missing kids aren’t looking for make-out sessions with strangers.

  Except he no sooner created the physical gap between them than Elle moved closer and eliminated it. She put a hand on his wrist, pulled it down, and drew in a sharp breath as she looked at the object pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Is that another listening device?” she asked, unease evident in her voice.

  Noah shook his head, his reply grim. “No. It’s a GPS tracker. Pretty damn sophisticated, too, judging by its size.”

  She inhaled again. “I’m sorry.”

  He tipped his head her way, surprised by the apology. “Sorry?”

  “You said I’d be a hindrance. I promised you it wasn’t true. But I let someone put that on me, and I didn’t even notice.” Now she exhaled, and it was shaky. “Now he knows where you live, and that’s a very bad thing.”

  “I’m not worried about anyone knowing where I am,” Noah said.

  It was almost true. One of the reasons he opted for only a semipermanent home was the ease of uprooting at a moment’s notice. He’d had his share of shady people after him before. But none of that was his most pressing concern at that moment. What he wanted was to know more about the mystery man who made Elle’s eyes pinch every time she mentioned him. Whose name she hadn’t said even once, in spite of her daughter’s status. Who was she to him? Who was he to the missing girl? How was the man as well equipped as an undercover police unit? Palming the tracker, Noah started to ask those questions, plus a few other pointed ones as well. Except she spoke before he could.

  “Aren’t you going to destroy that?” she asked.

  He opened his hand again. “Kinda pointless. They already know where we are. Besides which, if the signal suddenly stops transmitting, they’ll also know we found it. Better not to let on that we figured out their little trick.”

  Elle’s gaze hovered on the offending object, and Noah realized it was truly making her even more upset than she’d been already. Another prick of protectiveness surged up. The woman was dealing with enough. If he could do a small thing to ease her mind, then he’d do it.

  “You know what?” he said. “You’re right. I’ll crush the damn thing into oblivion.”

  He tipped his hand, let the device bounce to the floor, then lifted his foot. At the last second, though, he diverted the sole of his boot away.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” he said, bending to snag the tracker up again. “We’re going to enlist the help of Gus-Gus to throw your stalker for a loop so we can concentrate on getting your kid back.”

  “Who’s Gus-Gus?” she replied. “Your neighbor?”

  Noah’s mouth tipped up. “Of a sort. Why don’t you get changed in the bathroom while I make another call? I’ll meet you in there in a minut
e.”

  “You’ll meet me in the bathroom?”

  “Yeah. Trust me. This’ll be worth it. Plus, it’ll help us get out of here undetected.”

  Her expression was equal parts curious and puzzled, but she didn’t argue. As she moved to follow his suggestion, Noah took his phone out and dialed once more.

  “Hey, Rog,” he greeted. “Feel like doing me another favor?”

  “Twice in one day?” croaked his two-pack-a-day neighbor. “Getting needier than my dead wife, God rest her soul.”

  “Didn’t you tell me the other night that you’d give your left kidney to have her back?”

  “Yeah, well. Might’ve been the whiskey talking. What’re you needing now? Want me to break something else? A leg. Tell me it’s a leg.”

  “Ha-ha. No. But actually, I’ve got something weirder. I was hoping you could bring Gus-Gus to my bathroom window.”

  “You serious?” said the other man.

  “Mmm,” Noah acknowledged. “I’m also going to order you a pizza, but I want you to bring it to my front door when it gets to your place.”

  “This is getting weird.”

  “You’re a peach, Rog. See you in a minute.”

  Noah tapped off the phone, scrolled down to the number for the pizza place that probably knew him better than they should, then quickly placed the bare minimum order for delivery. He was careful to make sure they knew not to come to him but to his neighbor’s door instead. When he was satisfied that they understood, he hung up and stepped toward the bathroom. He made it only a single step before the door swung open and Elle stepped out. She held Rog’s one-eared twenty-three-pound tabby in her arms, and she had an understandably amused look on her face. The cat was purring so loudly that the noise practically filled the room.

  “So…” Elle said. “Your neighbor seems nice. Gave me a ‘little’ something through the window. I think my arms might fall off.”

  Noah chuckled. “You can put him on the bed.”

  She complied, and the behemoth feline turned in a single circle, let out a meow, then plopped down and closed his eyes. Smiling, Noah got to work on the first part of his plan. He moved to the night stand, dragged open the drawer and pulled out a roll of Scotch tape. With swift hands, he snapped off a piece, rolled it up, then stuck it to the miniature bugging device. Next, he stepped to the bed and took a gentle hold of the oversized beast’s collar. He rolled the tag over, pressed the electronic item to the metal, and squeezed.

  Then he met Elle’s eyes. “Aaaaand. Our decoy is good to go.”

  She shot him a dubious look. “Good to go where? And what makes you so sure he’ll make it as far as the door?”

  “Now, now,” he replied lightly. “We’re not here to body shame the cat.”

  She made a face. “I don’t think he got this lumpy from chasing birds.”

  “Nope. Gus-Gus is actually an indoor boy. But every time he gets out, he takes the same path. Down the block. Around the corner. Through a patch of overgrown shrubs and past this big boarded up house. Then he sits at the koi pond. Takes his time, too. Should lead our friend in the car on a nice little chase.” Noah sank down onto the bed and gave the animal a good scratch behind the ear.

  “So…we just set him free?”

  “Not quite. First we wait for pizza.”

  “We what?”

  “The second half of our decoy.” Noah glanced toward the generic digital clock that sat on the dresser. “They like me over there. Delivery shouldn’t be much more than seven minutes. Which gives us time to talk.”

  “Good. Because I do have something to ask you.”

  “Ask away.”

  “How much does a borrowed cat run?”

  “What?”

  “Just trying to keep a running total,” she said. “Three thousand dollars to track a car. Fifty bucks for a neighbor to smash a wire. So…how much to borrow a cat?”

  He knew she was stalling—diverting the conversation from where it should be going—but his lips twitched anyway. “Gus-Gus works for treats.”

  “Uh-uh,” said Elle. “You said nothing but cash.”

  “I wasn’t thinking in terms of hired pets.”

  “Well then, how much does a bag of treats run? Like, brand name ones.”

  “I dunno. Under ten bucks?”

  “Then we’ll round it up. So I owe you three thousand, sixty dollars in expenses.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “You’re forgetting the pizza,” he told her. “Better make it three thousand, seventy-three dollars.”

  “Noted.”

  Elle inhaled and closed her hands into fists. The combative pose made Noah think she might be preparing to dig in her heels and say nothing else. Instead, she spoke in a low, worry-tinged voice.

  “If I tell you anything more, you might change your mind about helping me,” she said.

  This time, he gave in to the urge to reach out. He put his hands on her wrists and put pressure on the exposed lower half of her palms. When her fingers unfurled, he closed his over them The contact was distracting. Oddly familiar, yet completely new.

  Noah brought his gaze up, and Elle’s expression seemed to hold an electric charge. He wanted to help her, dammit, even though his mind cautioned him that it might take him into dangerous territory.

  “I won’t change my mind,” he promised, his voice thick with far more emotion than should’ve been there.

  Elle breathed out again. “Trey Charger.”

  A lick of true unease flared up. If Noah had been expecting any name at all, it wouldn’t have been one he’d heard before. Let alone that one. A decade or so earlier, the business mogul had featured prominently in the news. A longtime partner of his had died under questionable circumstances, and Charger was under investigation. Then the media stories had dried up quickly. A key witness retracted his story. A high-profile politician stepped in. The details were foggy, but what Noah did remember was the man’s eyes. He could vividly recall flicking on the TV, right in the middle of a feature. Trey Charger, thirty-something and dressed in a pinstripe suit, appearing on TV to give a brief statement. His gaze was cold, dark and utterly superior. Noah had turned the TV off before the man spoke a word. The idea that he was somehow connected to Elle and her daughter made Noah’s gut twist.

  “What about him?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

  “You know who he is.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I haven’t crossed paths with him personally, but it’d be a lie to say I’d never heard the news stories about him.”

  “The news stories…” It was barely more than a whisper, and her eyes sank shut. “Everything you heard? He’s worse. He’s got deep pockets, and the only two things he cares about are filling them a little more and making sure everyone knows he can keep filling them.” Her eyes opened again. “And he’s the one who took Katie.”

  “You know I’m going to ask why,” he replied softly.

  “Do you always ask your clients personal questions like that?”

  Elle pulled her hands out of his, and the cool air hit his skin, making the loss of contact more acute than it ought to have been. Noah looked down at his empty palms before raising his gaze to her face again.

  “I always ask the questions that need to be asked so that I can do my job effectively.”

  “You don’t need to know why he took Katie. You just need to know that he did. And that he had no right to do it.”

  There was a defensiveness in her tone that spiked Noah’s concern. Why tell him the kidnapper’s name, if she wasn’t going to give him a reason? Why hold back? What was she holding back? He opened his mouth to ask her as much, but a knock at the door cut him short. He almost stayed put so he could demand an answer. Then he remembered that the little girl’s life depended on time as well as information, an
d he pushed to his feet and moved to the door with worry clouding his mind.

  CHAPTER 5

  Ella’s heart bounced so hard in her chest that it hurt. She could barely breathe as Noah took a swift look through the peephole, then swung open the door. It wasn’t that she was concerned about who was on the other side. She didn’t even care when a short wrinkle-covered man with no more than a tuft of gray hair came into the room, a pizza box balanced on his hand and a curious look on his face. What set her lungs burning was the way Trey’s name had come out of her lips.

  She hadn’t said it aloud once since she’d managed to escape him. Even on the solitary call—the single time he’d tracked her down—she hadn’t offered him any kind of greeting. In fact, she hadn’t let herself think his name, or even picture his face. Her only consideration of him had been involuntary. Unwanted. In nightmares, most often. Or in sudden, breath-stealing memories at odd moments of time. Like when she’d once spied his preferred wine in a shop window. She’d stopped abruptly, recalling the smell of it emanating from his pores. The memory was so strong that it made her queasy, even then. She hadn’t been able to pull herself out of it until Katie had given her hand a little tug and said, What’s wrong, Momma?

  Elle shuddered again, thinking of it now. Disliking how his hold crept up like that, and how it threatened to drag her under. Saying his name was like a violation. An oil slick on her tongue. She could barely believe she’d managed to let it free. And when Noah had asked why, the rest had almost spilled out, too. She’d had to physically restrain herself from not adding more.

  Trey Charger.

  Entrepreneur was what he called himself. But really, he was a glorified mobster. One who’d attempted to destroy her life. Tried to control her in the worst way possible. And for a time, he’d succeeded. But Elle had broken away. Saved both herself and the helpless baby who’d grown into the vibrant little girl she loved more than life.

  And now he has her again.

  She didn’t realize that she was swaying on her feet until Noah took ahold of her elbow.