Leaning against it, she took slow, even breaths to bring her heart rate down. Why did she even bother? It had taken only half an hour to be accosted and pawed by a Neanderthal. Not every guy was as creepy—or violent—as Jeremy, but the creeps far outnumbered the nice guys, as far as she could tell. Incidents like this reinforced her distrust of men. She was better off alone. She sighed. Oh how she wanted to believe that, needed to believe it.
But then the image of those intense blue eyes filled her memory. Loneliness swamped her. Although cut off from family and old friends, she didn’t dare make new ones.
Romance felt ridiculously foreign and out of reach. Thank goodness for romance novels. They kept her company without demanding anything in return. And that’s exactly what she needed: a glass of wine and her latest Sandra Brown book.
* * *
Ben Alfren loomed over Gary. “If you ever hassle her again, you’ll be sorry, dickhead.” He snorted. “Of course, it looks like you already are.”
He pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered to see what the commotion was about. Standing alone by the pool, he surveyed the complex and spotted the pretty blonde sprinting up the stairs. Who is she? I’ve never seen her before. The woman ducked into an apartment without ever glancing back at the party.
But he remembered the look in her eyes when their gazes connected. As lame as it sounded in his own head, he had felt some kind of connection. He’d been battling a bunch of pushy women, and she’d been dealing with a comparable man. Had they felt each other’s pain?
“Ben, wait for us,” two women called, sashaying around the pool toward him.
He rolled his eyes. “I gotta run an errand. Catch ya later.”
He made a beeline across the courtyard straight to the passageway leading to the parking garage. After darting around the corner, he peeked to be sure the women had given up the chase. Luckily, they were strolling back to the party. He smiled with relief.
Instead of actually entering the garage, he followed the sidewalk to the far end of the building. The back of the complex’s property hugged the western shoreline of San Diego Bay with an awesome view of the downtown skyline directly across the water and the San Diego–Coronado Bay Bridge just to the south. Ben spent several minutes admiring both before deciding on his direction.
He could circle back to his own apartment in the building near the parking garage or… or…
What was he thinking? The blonde had made a hasty exit from the party—and for good reason. What were the chances she would welcome company, especially a man, after having to fend off unwelcome advances from a lecherous loser?
And if Ben wanted company, all he had to do was go back to the party. Problem was that wasn’t the company he wanted. The woman who’d taken down Gary intrigued him. Her doe-like, dark chocolate eyes captivated him. Her lack of interest in the party scene appealed to him.
What the hell? Ben Alfren never dodged a challenge. Bring it.
Chapter 3
Amber sat on her balcony with her wine and book. Usually they were enough to make her happy—or at least not unhappy. But tonight, she kept staring across the bay at the San Diego skyline, lost in thought. Not even the lights dancing on the dark water or the concrete ribbon of the bridge could distract her. The marine layer had moved in and hung high over everything, threatening to descend and blanket the world. Dense fog would definitely fit her mood.
“Hi, there. You okay?”
A man’s voice, one she didn’t recognize, came out of the darkness.
She glanced along the row of second-floor balconies but couldn’t see anyone.
“Down here.”
Her butt stayed glued to the chair. The voice didn’t sound like Gary’s. Besides, his might be an octave higher now, if he could even talk. Or the man “down here” could be calling to someone else out of her line of sight. Either way, not her problem. She picked up her book.
“I’m Ben Alfren. We haven’t met, but I wanted to make sure Gary hadn’t hurt you.”
Intense blue eyes smiled in her memory. Her stomach did a little somersault. Still, she remained seated.
“I’m fine,” she called. “Thanks for checking on me.”
“Sorry I couldn’t get to you faster, but you didn’t need my help anyway.”
So Ben was the person she’d glimpsed moving toward her and Gary. He’d been coming to her aid. Maybe he was one of the rare non-creeps.
“I’ve taken self-defense classes,” she explained.
“I could tell. Doubt if Gary will be walking completely vertical for a while.”
She grinned. “It’ll be even better if he can’t father children. Best to keep his type out of the gene pool.”
A hearty laugh floated up to her.
“Looks like you’re enjoying that wine, but would you like to go someplace and grab a cup of coffee?”
Hmmm, at least he hadn’t asked to come up and join her. Wariness and loneliness warred inside. In his favor, he had wanted to help her with the Gary situation. He’d also made the effort to search her out. And he hadn’t come directly to her front door, which he obviously could’ve found, hoping to be invited in. And not in his favor, he was a man. ’Nuff said. But… What if Ben Alfren was a nice guy? And what if she denied herself the infrequent pleasure of a nice guy’s company? Who lost then? She drew a deep breath.
Slowly, she stood up and leaned against the balcony railing. Ben stepped out of the shadows at the corner of the building. They sized each other up for several seconds before she found the resolve to speak.
“We can sit at the top of the stairs out front. Would you prefer chardonnay or merlot?”
“Merlot,” he said and vanished.
Amber stared at the spot where he’d stood a moment earlier. Lisa had labeled him “kinda mysterious.” Maybe he was.
She hurried to the kitchen and filled her glass plus a new one. Hesitating at the door, she considered putting on some makeup. No. What you see is what you get. Since all she wanted was an evening of enjoyable conversation, she decided against it.
When she pulled the door open, Ben stood looking across the courtyard at the still-raging party. His legs were spread, his arms were crossed over his chest, and his shoulders seemed a mile wide. His expression said, You don’t want to mess with me. He turned, and a warm smile replaced the warning.
Deep blue eyes connected with a jolt. Again. “Hottie” was an understatement; the guy was GQ material. Definitely taller than six feet and lean, real lean. How could there be an ounce of fat when his navy blue T-shirt hugged bulging biceps and six-pack abs? His wavy, black hair had just the tiniest hint of red that was too dark to be called auburn. A strong chin, a straight nose, and sculpted lips complemented the allure of his amazing eyes. A nine-o’clock shadow added another layer of sexiness. Narrow hips promised a tight ass on the flip side. What a package. Not that she was checking out that part of his anatomy, but…
She gulped. Damn, she shouldn’t be checking him out at all.
“Hi,” she said, handing him a glass. “I’m Amber…” She decided against a last name.
“Thanks.” He swept his hand toward the top step. “After you.”
They settled on the concrete. Cold and hard would provide a good excuse to cut the conversation short if necessary.
He reclined against the banister and peered at her. Her face warmed from being the object of such close scrutiny. Of course, she’d just given him the once-over, so fair was fair.
He took a sip of merlot. “I apologize for Gary’s behavior. Lisa should be required to warn all female tenants about him—in writing. As they say, there’s one in every crowd.”
“Or two or three.”
Ben cocked his head. “Sounds like you’ve run into your share of jerks.”
“More than my share. It looked to me like the women here are pretty aggressive too.”
“And I appreciate your granting me asylum.” He shrugged. “Seriously, though, they don’t mean to be push
y. But it’s one of the reasons I don’t participate in more of the social stuff around here.”
“Ah, the mysterious one.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard Lisa say that.”
“So you don’t deny it?”
He shrugged again. “You should draw your own conclusions.”
“I will.” She smiled. “When you’re not busy being mysterious, what do you do?”
He glanced away. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. But I don’t broadcast what I do. It makes some people nervous.”
“You’re a satanic priest?”
Ben’s brows arched. “Say what?”
“Satanic priest. They make me nervous.” She pressed her lips together to hold back a grin.
He blinked, then chuckled, and finally broke into a belly laugh. Recovering, he said, “Not even close.”
“Okay, then your job won’t make me nervous.”
He hesitated and sipped the wine thoughtfully. “I work… for the government.”
“Well, that’s vague. Care to be more specific?”
When his gaze came back to her, she felt the disturbing jolt again.
“I’m an FBI agent.”
Law enforcement. Not her favorite profession since several varieties had let her down so many times. But it wasn’t the FBI specifically that she had issues with. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. You got a problem with that?” he asked in an exaggerated tough-guy tone.
“I guess it’s a step above satanic priest.”
“Dare I ask why we rank so highly?”
“Probably not.” Her internal door closed, shutting him out. Happened every time.
He studied her. “All right. Is your job top secret too?”
She forced herself to relax and respond. “No. Like you, I happen to love my job.”
“Which is…?”
“I work at the San Diego Surrogate Agency,” she said after a sip.
A twinkle of amusement danced in his eyes. “You’re a sex surrogate?”
She choked, almost snorting her drink. “Oh God, no. It’s a surrogate mother clinic.”
His now-serious gaze darted to the wine and then to her belly. “You’re a surrogate mother?”
She savored another taste, slowly, making him wait. “Unfortunately not. I’m one of the nurses. Well, for now, at least.” Her mood sank a few notches at the thought of her boss’s warning.
“You’re leaving?”
She sighed. “Not voluntarily. My boss told me today that the company might have to lay someone off. And since I’m the newbie, I’m elected.”
“Anything I can do?”
Let me cry on your broad shoulders. She started at the wayward thought. Where had that come from? Not wanting to reveal too much about the clinic’s financial troubles, she joked, “Would you like to hire a surrogate mother?”
“Not today. But tell me more about this business.”
* * *
Amber’s love of her job came through loud and clear as she described the surrogate services provided by her employer and her role in them. She practically glowed with excitement while telling him of the joy of giving childless couples a way to have babies.
When the conversation switched to his career, he shared his personal satisfaction with catching bad guys. Of course, he couldn’t disclose anything specific about his cases, but he was able to relate generic stories of his work. Although she listened politely and asked pertinent questions, he detected a general, underlying distaste for or distrust of his profession. What had happened to her to create those feelings?
Two hours and two glasses of wine later, fog engulfed the complex, and goose bumps covered Amber’s arms. He tamped down the urge to wrap her in a warm embrace, so instead, he did the next-best gentlemanly thing: made up an excuse to call it a night.
“I don’t know about you, but my ass is numb,” he said, standing up stiffly.
“Oh, mine too.” She checked her watch. “No wonder I’m cold.”
He extended his hand to help her up and didn’t release it immediately. “I really enjoyed tonight, Amber. I’d like to hang out again. May I have your number?”
She glanced over her shoulder at her apartment. “Um, you know where to find me.” She pulled her hand free and moved quickly to her door. “Thanks for a nice time. It was much better than the party.”
Ben stared at the closed door for a minute before trotting down the stairs. He ignored the women shouting to him from the party, which was still going strong.
Back inside his apartment, he headed straight for the second bedroom, which he used as a home office. He planned to jot down some notes about the sex trafficking and kidnapping case, but his brain wouldn’t cooperate. His thoughts kept drifting to Amber and beyond. To Marissa Panuska, his ex-girlfriend.
Finally, after two awful years, he could think of Marissa as his ex without a stab of pain. Although they had been together for three wonderful years while they’d worked together in DC, she had refused a transfer to San Diego with him. He’d never understood why until she was able to explain it to him when he visited FBI Headquarters a couple of months ago.
He’d known for a long time that Marissa had premonitions. Unable to otherwise explain the eerily accurate warnings, they joked that her Czech gypsy genes were the source. She’d shared many of her premonitions having to do with cases, but she’d never told him of her premonition about them breaking up if he moved to San Diego. Unfortunately, her refusal to come with him resulted in the warning coming true. They’d both suffered immensely, but his last visit had started the healing process. However, there were definitely scars, and he never wanted to experience heartache of such magnitude again.
Certainly, he’d dated since the breakup. Even had a couple of short-term relationships. But tonight, simply talking with Amber was the first time he’d enjoyed just being with a woman in the past two years. He had no interest in a serious relationship; he definitely wasn’t ready for that yet. And he sensed similar vibes from Amber.
In fact, he’d felt a much stronger emotion emanating from her. Resolution? Fear? Whatever the cause, it manifested itself in her sitting outside instead of inviting him into her apartment, in her unwillingness to discuss her past, and in her refusal to give him her phone number. Amber Last-Name-Unknown was protecting herself against something. Physical or emotional, he couldn’t guess. But even more puzzling was why her reaction to him produced feelings of protectiveness and not irritation.
* * *
Amber had peeked through the blinds as Ben crossed the courtyard, climbed the stairs, and entered an apartment in the building opposite hers. Now I know where he lives. Her gaze slid toward the pool area but jerked back when she caught movement in the shadows near the entrance to the parking garage.
Someone stood there.
She couldn’t see any detail, but the figure appeared large enough to most likely be a man, not a woman. Is it…?
Without moving away from the window, she hit the light switch next to the door, throwing the apartment into darkness, making it harder for someone to see inside, for someone to see her.
She waited, frozen. Watched, unblinking. Her breathing turned shallow; her heart pounded.
The figure didn’t move. For a minute. Two. Three.
She knew exactly where her gun was hidden. She knew it was loaded. She knew how to use it.
When the man suddenly stepped to the corner, she stiffened. But instead of walking across the courtyard, he leaned around as though looking for someone at the party. Then he turned and headed toward the street.
Chapter 4
On Monday morning Amber rode the elevator to the eighth floor with a Hispanic woman carrying a large manila envelope. She turned the corner to go to the employee entrance, but a strange feeling made her stop in the adjoining hallway. She waited until she heard the elevator arrive again before easing her way back to the lobby. Peeking around the corner, she watched the woman approach the exiting passengers. She s
poke briefly to the couple and then handed them a pink sheet of paper. After hesitating, the couple proceeded to the San Diego Surrogate Agency door.
Amber wanted to get her hands on one of those papers, but her scrubs would easily connect her with the only medical business on the floor. Something didn’t smell right, and if it had anything to do with SDSA’s current financial problems, she needed to find out. And she had to do something before she lost her job. She narrowed her eyes in concentration and smiled when a seed of a plan sprouted.
* * *
“You know this will be next to impossible,” FBI Special Agent Staci Hall said. She held up the pictures of the kidnapped women. “The Hermosillo cartel’s sex trafficking operation is so widespread, there isn’t a chance in hell we’re going to find these girls.”
“Your positive attitude is one of your best attributes,” Ben responded.
“Second only to your stubbornness,” Special Agent Dillon O’Malley chimed in.
The three agents sat around a conference table in the San Diego FBI office. Their boss, SSA Rex Kelley, had already given his instructions and left Ben in charge to plan the operation.
“You didn’t talk to their husbands and boyfriends. Those guys were willing to give up their chance at a better life in the States to find their loved ones. That’s gotta count for something. We have to at least try.”
“Yeah, well, I want to go on record as thinking this is a total waste of time,” she said.
“So noted.” Ben exhaled. He and Staci had first met at the FBI Academy and become friends. She was, however, beyond a doubt one of the most infuriating people he’d ever met. In addition to her negativity and stubbornness, her dislike of Marissa during those early years still grated on him. Because Staci didn’t know about Marissa’s premonitions, he could never share that his ex-girlfriend’s vision about their breakup involved another woman, presumably Staci. Strangely, that part of the premonition hadn’t come true, because nothing more than friendship had ever developed between Ben and Staci. Since he had only recently learned about Marissa’s vision himself, he wasn’t sure if it would affect the friendship in the long run.
Hunted (FBI Heat Book 1) Page 3