CHANCES ARE (Last Chance Rescue)

by Reece, Christy

  “Did you read the email from Noah?”

  He glanced over his shoulder and felt a gut punch all the way to his groin. Angela stood at the entrance to the living room dressed in nothing but a towel. He knew he’d be seeing her in a lot less very soon but had planned to be prepared by then.

  Tearing his eyes away from the vision, he turned back to his computer and clicked a few keys to go to another email account. She came to stand beside him, so close he could feel her breath on his neck. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the screen in front of him. Dammit, did she not know what she was doing to him?

  Another ping came from the laptop, indicating that he did indeed have a new email from McCall. Clicking on, he cursed softly as he read the terse message: Missing woman found this morning. Same cause of death. You have a five-to-ten day window to get this bastard’s attention before he grabs another victim. Let’s make sure he takes our bait.

  “It’s just so sad. A family is learning the awful fate of a loved one. And if we’re not successful in trapping him, another woman will soon be going through the same horror. We have to stop him, Jake.”

  Bracing himself for the effect she always had on him, he turned to face her. He had been prepared for her beauty, not the tears swimming in her eyes. Telling himself he was only going to offer comfort, he reached for her. Suddenly she was in his arms, in his lap, and he was holding her.

  Slender arms wrapped around his shoulders, a soft as silk face lay against his neck. She felt so dammed good. Better than any fantasy he’d ever allowed himself. He swallowed hard and kept his arms loose around her. This was about offering his support and friendship. It had nothing to do with his inappropriate lust.

  “Jake?” Warm breath from her soft whisper was like an erotic caress against his skin.

  His entire body went taut as a violin string. Eyes closed, teeth clenched, Jake fought every instinct and signal his body was sending him. He told himself she needed comfort. He told himself he had nothing to give her. He told himself to let her go.

  Her lips pressed against his throat in a hot open-mouthed erotic invitation.

  Ignoring every warning in his head, Jake went for what he wanted above all else. Lowering his head, he trailed tender kisses along her impossibly soft cheek. When she turned to look up at him, her dark eyes holding a hunger he felt deep within his soul, he could no more have let her go than he could stop breathing. Groaning with pent-up desire, his mouth covered hers.

  His world exploded.

  Never had he tasted anything as delicately delicious or more decadent. She had the softest, sweetest mouth in the universe and Jake wanted to devour every succulent morsel. Her mouth opened beneath his with a blatant challenge to explore. Accepting the provocation, he thrust deep and lost his mind.

  While he ravaged her mouth, Jake’s hands were equally busy exploring. The towel trapped between their bodies was an irritating deterrent to his goals. Growling his frustration, he lifted his head to concentrate his energies and finally tugged it low enough to expose her breasts. Hungrily, his gaze roamed over her, devouring the perfect globes of cream satin with small, rose-colored nipples.

  Taking a breast in his hand, he tested the weight against his palm, then flicked her nipple with his thumb and watched in awe as it went tauter, stiffer, seeming to beg for his mouth. Unable to resist, he swirled his tongue around the tight peak. Pulling away slightly, he admired the now glistening and even tighter bud. “Damn, that’s pretty.”

  A soft, gasping sigh had him moving his gaze from the most perfect breast he’d ever seen to the most beautiful face in existence. Classically high cheekbones, velvet brown eyes, full wide lips and slightly pointed chin, was the type of beauty poets wrote sonnets about. Jake had no poetry in him. The only thing he possessed in spades was pure, unadulterated lust.

  Leaving the vision of her face for a moment, his gaze explored her body. Long…impossibly long, sleek legs, ivory-colored and toned, led down to narrow feet with nails painted a vibrant red.

  Breathing out a longing sigh, he growled hoarsely, “You are so dammed beautiful.”

  Shuddering with arousal, Angela watched Jake’s face as she lay in his arms. Wanting to take the initiative, wanting to give everything and anything he asked for, she waited for a sign of acceptance. This man had rejected her more than once. Having him do so while she was almost nude and vulnerable in his arms wasn’t something she could survive. If she tried to take it further than what he was ready to give, the fracture in her heart would widen to a giant crevice.

  So, she waited. Hoping against hope that this time he would want what she wanted. That at last the barrier would be broken and he would allow his need to take control. Her eyes met his and she knew the answer before he said the words, “I could hurt you so easily, Angela. I don’t want to be the one to break your heart.”

  She tried to smile though she knew it was a poor attempt. “Ever thought you should be worried about your own heart and not mine?”

  “What would hurt me more than anything would be to hurt you.”

  “Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

  “I’m not a forever kind of guy. Not anymore.”

  “Who said anything about forever? What’s wrong with living in the moment…the here and now?”

  “You’re not a living in the moment kind of woman.”

  “And you think you know what kind of woman I am?”

  Before he could answer, Angela was sitting up and struggling to get away from him. She needed distance or she was going to say or do something that she would eventually regret. Neither punching him in the nose for his arrogance nor kissing him because she saw the hurt and sadness behind his words were the right courses to take.

  Only Jake wasn’t having it. His arms tightened around her, keeping her from leaving.

  “Let me go, Jake.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why? If you don’t want me, then let me go.”

  “Hell woman, you think I don’t want you?” He shook her gently, his eyes blazing into hers. The evidence of his desire was hard against her hip. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. That’s what makes this so dammed dangerous.”

  Her heart zinged with joy but the anger in his eyes quickly squelched the happiness. “Dangerous? How?”

  Apparently regretting his words, he shook his head and loosened his hold on her. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me.”

  Pushing her gently out of his arms, he glanced at the clock. “You’d better get dressed. We’re due at the club in an hour.”

  She stood in front of him. The towel bunched at her waist, her breasts still exposed. She wanted to shout at him for being so dammed stubborn. She wanted to cry because once again she had allowed him to reject her.

  His eyes looking everywhere but at her, Jake growled, “Dammit, go get some clothes on.”

  She wasn’t embarrassed by her nudity. Soon, Jake would be seeing her dressed in almost nothing and gyrating on a stage as if she were in the throes of sexual ecstasy. Still, she felt vulnerable and open, exposed in a way she wouldn’t be in her stripper garb.

  Before she turned away, she needed him to understand one thing. “This is the last time, Jake. I’ve made more advances to you than I’ve done with all the other men I’ve known, combined. You’ve turned me down for the last time. I’m through offering.”

  Turning, she walked away. With every step she took, she wanted him to call her back. When she reached the door and there was no sound coming from him, she released the breath she had been holding. That was it. She had spoken the truth, she wouldn’t offer again.

  Chapter Seven

  Club Drago

  London

  Jake opened the door for Angela and then followed her into the club. After she’d walked away from him an hour ago, he’d been cursing his poor handling of the situation, sure that things would now be awkward, possibly putting the mission in jeopardy. But Angela was a true profes
sional, making him admire her all the more. The moment she’d walked out of the bedroom, dressed for their meeting with the club manager, she’d acted as if nothing had happened.

  For someone who was doing his best to protect a woman he cared for so deeply, he was doing a shitty job of it. He’d dammed well better get his head out of his ass when it came time to protecting her physically. Hadn’t he already learned his lesson the hard way?

  “Think I’ll be able to dance tonight?” Angela asked.

  “Depends. Roddy, the manager, is totally onboard with our mission but if he puts you on in place of someone who’s scheduled, it might look suspicious.”

  She held up her purse. “I brought my outfit and music, just in case.”

  “In that?” The handbag barely looked big enough to carry her wallet and apartment keys.

  She glanced down at her legs. “I’m wearing my boots. The rest of my costume is minimal. Remember, I’m a stripper. The clothing tends to be quite small.”

  Yeah, like he was going to forget. Jake’s jaw tightened. He’d almost not survived having an almost nude Angela in his arms. Now he was going to sit in an audience while strangers ogled her. This would be the most hellish LCR assignment he’d ever been on.

  “May I help you?” A young woman dressed in a sedate brown pantsuit came toward them.

  “We’re here to see Roddy. The name’s Jake, this is Angela.”

  “Of course, he told me to send you to his office when you arrived.”

  As they followed the woman through the club to the office, Jake saw Angela stare at the stage and the tall silver pole in the center of it. Was she nervous? Though she seemed to have the energy of three normal people, Jake didn’t see Angela as a nervous person. But still, anyone would be apprehensive to have to dance almost nude in front of strangers, wouldn’t they?

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, just trying to decide the best routine for the stage size. It’s not very large so most of my moves will have to be done with the pole.” She nodded as if satisfied with her assessment and then turned to him. He was stunned to see excitement gleaming in her eyes. “I’m really good on the pole.”

  Holy hell, he was in trouble.

  Roddy Rawlins was a short, stubby man with a raspy voice, tobacco-stained teeth and wise eyes. Without any seeming sexuality in his gaze, he assessed Angela as an employee and nodded approvingly.

  “I understand you have pole dancing experience?”

  “Yes.” Experience might be stretching it a bit since she’d never danced in a club. This would be very different from the gym where she had taken her classes. However, she had two things in her favor—skill and confidence. Her instructor, a former exotic dancer, had told her she was a natural. And though Angela knew she was far from perfect, she had the confidence to see this through. Would some of it make her uncomfortable? Absolutely. But in this case, the end definitely justified the means.

  “Mr. McCall assured me you would fit in well. Normally I wouldn’t have room for another dancer, but one of my ladies quit two days ago. You can take her spot.”

  “I brought my costume and music. I’m prepared to go on tonight.”

  “Excellent.” He beamed approval and then, all business, leaned forward and said, “House rules are simple but strictly enforced. Customers aren’t allowed to touch, other than a hand slipping money into your garter or panties. Tops come off, bottoms are optional. Your call.”

  Though she wasn’t looking at him, she felt Jake’s body tense up. Would he see her differently once she began to dance? And if so, would that be a good difference or bad? She gave a mental shrug. There was no point in worrying about that now. Besides, catching this lunatic trumped damaging their non-existent romance.

  “How comfortable are you with lap dances?” Roddy asked.

  The thought of sitting on some stranger’s lap and rubbing up against him sent shudders through her. There was only one man she wanted to do that with. “It’s something I’d prefer not to do. Is that all right?”

  “Sure, but be prepared to get requests because most of the ladies offer this service. It’s a good money maker.”

  “Maybe it’ll make her seem more mysterious and less approachable,” Jake said. “Something like that could piss off the killer.”

  Roddy nodded slowly. “That’s a possibility. Half of my customers are regulars who come in two or three nights a week. The other half includes men on business trips, bachelor parties, and the occasional passerby who want entertainment with their alcohol. But we state clearly on our marquis that lap dances are available for an extra charge.”

  “Is pissing him off the right way to go?” Angela asked.

  Jake shrugged. “Could be. If he gets so anxious he can’t control himself, he might make a mistake. It’s worth a try.”

  “Then it’s a go. No lap dances for…” Roddy turned back to Angela. “What’s your stage name?”

  Silly, but this had been the most difficult thing to decide. A name could have a visceral impact on the killer, forming the image of what he wanted her to be in his mind. Would calling herself one thing instead of another make him see her as his next victim or scare him away to go after someone else? In the end, she’d decided she was over-thinking and had come up with something easy that worked for her.

  “Dark Angel,” she said.

  “Excellent. We don’t have anything similar right now. Our ladies get along well. There’s the occasional blow-up, but most of the time, they’re focused on giving the best performances possible.”

  “How many times will I dance each night?”

  “Twice if everyone shows up. Three times max.” Roddy turned to Jake again. “And your role is new owner. Right?”

  Jake nodded. Martin Tabor, the owner of Club Drago was an acquaintance of Noah’s. Tabor had agreed to make it appear he’d sold the club to an American businessman. Jake’s presence would simply look like a new owner enjoying his newest business acquisition.

  “I’ll stay in the audience, walk around a bit. It’ll give me a chance to assess everyone without seeming suspicious.” He tilted his head toward Angela. “My top priority is making sure she stays safe.”

  Roddy nodded. “That’ll work fine but I’ve got one question, mate.”

  “What’s that?” Jake asked.

  “Are you going to be able to handle it when men make sexual comments about your woman?”

  Why would Roddy assume she was Jake’s woman? She was about to explain that this wasn’t the case when Jake muttered, “I’ll handle it.”

  Angela swallowed a gasp. No denial that she wasn’t his woman. And the grimness of his tone gave her shivers. Whatever Jake’s reasons for not wanting to take their relationship to a sexual level, he definitely had strong feelings about having other men seeing her nude.

  Roddy nodded. “I’ll hold you to that. I want this killer caught too but having you disrupt business is out of the question.”

  Business was business, both she and Jake understood that concept.

  She stood and held out her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Rawlins. We’ll do our best to have no impact on your business.”

  For the first time Roddy gave her a look of pure lust, his eyes oozing up and down her body like thick slime. “Oh, I think you’ll have an impact on the business but it will all be very good.” If possible, the tone of his voice was even slimier than his look.

  Wanting to put their discussion back on a business-like basis, she chose to take his words as a compliment. Maintaining a pleasant and neutral expression, she kept her hand outstretched.

  The sleazy expression disappeared and Roddy smiled congenially as he gave a firm, business-like handshake. “You’re going to do just fine.”

  It had been a test. Angela was glad she had passed it.

  “What time do I go on and where’s the dressing room?”

  “You’re on at nine and then at ten-thirty. Be back here by seven-thirty. That’ll give you some time to get a look around and
the chance to meet the other ladies before your first performance.”

  She felt Jake at her back as they left Roddy’s office, went through the club and out into the early evening. Traffic was at a fever pitch with car horns blaring and the occasional zoom of a vehicle that managed to get out of the gridlock.

  “You want to get some dinner or go back to the apartment?” Jake asked.

  Go back to the apartment so soon after what had happened earlier? No freaking way. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

  The relief on his face obvious, he said, “There’s a good Italian restaurant a couple of blocks up.”

  Angela silently followed him down the street. She shouldn’t be hurt that he didn’t want to go back to the apartment. This job was not about her unrequited love, it was about saving lives. The sting of his rejection would fade. This was her first LCR op and she was determined to do the best job she could. Jake was her partner and handler. To expect something more from him was not only unprofessional, it was silly. She was out to catch a killer, not get laid.

  With that cemented in her mind, she managed to carry on a halfway intelligent conversation about the various Italian recipes she’d learned in a cooking class. So intent on acting as if nothing was bothering her, she hardly noticed that the discussion was all one-sided.

  How are you going to handle men making sexual comments about your woman? The question reverberated through Jake’s head. The fact that Roddy had read him correctly should bother him but he had bigger concerns. The brief taste the man had given of just one slime-ball stare made him realize he wasn’t as detached as he had told himself he would be. Jake was a born protector—a trait that had occasionally driven Teresa crazy. He knew the vile things people could do to each other and had wanted to keep her safe. In the end, he had failed miserably.