Fear flickered in her eyes, and she turned her attention to his fingers clasping her flesh. She yanked back her arm, clenched her teeth. “Don’t touch me.”
That’s…different. He shook his head and offered her more space, lifting his hands in surrender. “I won’t touch you,” he said, his drawl a notch smoother. “Just tell me.”
“Frank Lewis tried to tell me something. It was hard to understand him, but he mentioned your name, and said he was sorry for…putting you at risk.”
A chuckle floated up his throat. “Are you serious? What else did he say?”
“That was it,” she said.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Sydney Bell. Listen, I have no ulterior motive to come here—and trust me, I have no talent for pranks. That’s what he told me before he lost consciousness.”
He inhaled and peered at her. Ever since he’d touched her, she’d lost some of her apparent composure.
Shuffling her feet, she finally studied his office, without as much as a smile of approval. Her attitude hinted that all she wanted was a distraction.
“Right. And I should take your word for it?”
“You can ask my coworker Patty if you don’t believe me.”
“Did you tell the police?” The last thing he wanted was an absurd rumor to make it to the headlines. What could possibly Frank have on him to put him at risk? With his uncle’s reelection campaign in full speed, his family couldn’t afford a scandal. Another one.
“No.” Her expression changed, fear crept in around her eyes. Alejandro’s hackles raised but she didn’t give him a chance to dig into why she kept the police out of it. “Look, sometimes people say weird things when they think they’re injured. It seemed odd at the time but I was trying not to make too much of it. Then this morning, I checked the news and saw that he died. I figured, maybe I should pass that message on.”
Alejandro drew back and studied her. She arched a thin eyebrow at him and tilted her head to the side, which exposed a bit more of her scar. He leaned toward her, narrowed his eyes as if there were a way to see more. Was she a burn victim? Had she gotten in trouble with the law?
She cleared her throat, and pulled the hem of her collar up. “A—Are you done gawking at me?”
He shrugged. “You barge in and say I’m supposed to be at risk, well, it’s been a day, and I’m still doing just fine.” He returned to the glass console and drank a mouthful of whisky. The burning alcohol coated his throat and loosened his limbs, but still didn’t give him any of the answers he sought. Had his psycho ex sent this woman to rattle him? And if so, why? This silly little prank could throw him off. It was in bad taste, no doubt. Why would Carla do that? And why on earth would she go through Frank to get to him? It didn’t add up.
“Good for you, Mr. Soto. Then my work here is done.” She spun on her boots without as much as a farewell. A woman of few words. He lifted his glass, staring in her direction. Hell, he had to admire that.
Why not admire a bit more? Her cell beeped, and she pulled it to read a message. He quirked his head to glance at her ass, and imagined the great butt those jeans hid. But something stilled her. Her phone slipped from her hands.
He reached her in a couple of long strides. She bent to grab her phone, and he didn’t miss the trembling of her fingers as they gripped the screen.
“Are you okay?” he asked, though no, she didn’t seem okay.
Her spine locked into place, and she glanced at the phone once more before meeting his gaze. Her skin paled. She licked her upper lip and took a deep breath. Her eyes darkened to a murky brown, and a quick twitch told him she was trying too freaking hard to remain emotionless.
“You got some bad news?”
“It was an email from my work. Patty…is dead,” she whispered.
“A coworker?”
Tears brimmed her eyes. “Y—yes.”
He took one step toward her, and stretched his hand to touch her shoulder, intending to give her a sympathetic squeeze. Before his fingers reached her, she jerked back, as if he’d threatened her with a loaded weapon.
She wiped the tears with the back of her trembling hand.
Confused, he jammed his hands in his pockets. Why was she so repulsed by his touch? “I’m sorry for your loss. Where I come from, we soothe and hug people who just lost someone.” He stared at her, and flashed her what he hoped was a compassionate smile.
She chewed on her bottom lip, her gaze dropping to his lips. It was as if she studied his expression, and mused over whether or not to accept his sympathy.
“Patty is—was—the one other person who knew about Frank Lewis.” Her eyes widened, and she lifted her hands to her mouth. “Crap. I gotta go.”
Was she serious? His blood chilled like a winter night at the Andes Mountains. If this was for real…
Couldn’t be. There was nothing about his life that would warrant someone wanting to put him in danger. Sure, his business rivals often cursed his aggressive negotiating tactics. But, taking it one step further?
“Wait. Sydney, wait.” He used the voice that would stop any adult male in his tracks.
Sydney shook her head and shoved her cell phone in her pocket. “I gave you the message. I need to jet.” She dashed out of his office, and he followed her but his assistant slammed into him.
“Mr. Soto.” Jessica drew back and lifted her hand to her head.
“I apologize. I didn’t see you.” He glanced at her. “You okay?”
She cracked her neck and nodded. “Yes. You have a phone conference with Washington later on. Do you need me to brief you?”
The only trail Sydney left behind was the scent of her spicy perfume. Of course he could take the stairs and reach her without a hitch, but should he? He hated to be caught off guard. “The conference needs to be rescheduled. Jessica, call security and have them forward me the info on that woman who just left. Sydney Bell.”
All visitors needed to sign in with their full name and phone number to get clearance and enter the high security building.
Alejandro took a deep breath. What could Frank have meant about him being at risk? He had been careful about keeping back stories he didn’t want anywhere near the press. Like information about his cousin. Every time the memory of his cousin’s death stabbed at his mind, he shivered, and he was taken back to that rainy afternoon, and how he swam for hours to find her. Her death had been his fault.
Frank had meant to get a message to him. And he’d asked this girl, Sydney to pass it on. That meant something in his book. So he was going to find her. Now.
Chapter 2
An old man wearing a festive green sweater rang the bell next to the Salvation Army kettle can. He greeted her, but his words got lost in the turmoil eating at her insides. Patty was dead. The fact spilled industrial strength acid into her stomach.
Sadness washed over her, and she no longer fought the hot tears brimming her eyes. They had worked so many shifts together, and Patty had found a way to befriend her, even though forming a bond at her work place—or anywhere else for that matter—had been the last thing on her mind.
A sensation of loss, one she was no longer used to, moved through her, and she didn’t need to feel her pulse to know it was beating wildly. She picked up the pace, willing her legs to walk even though stillness would be a haven. One she couldn’t afford right now. If emotions got the best of her, she would fall apart in the crowded street, where businessmen carried their Italian leather briefcases and Cartier watches.
No one there knew her, or her past. No one cared. The only person who had…Sydney shut her eyes, and blinked back tears from blurring her vision. Focus, Sydney.
She inhaled and let the air out a couple of times, then dried her eyes with the back of her hand.
All the way from the otherworld of Alejandro’s office to her territory, the crummy building that needed a major overhaul, she’d turned the question over and over in her head: Why had Patty died? According to the email that wen
t out to all employees, her coworker suffered a heart attack and died instantly. That was beyond weird. Patty never smoked or favored sugary snacks.
Emptiness assailed her. Patty was gone. She closed her eyes and the image of Patty’s kind eyes and crooked smile formed in front of her. A spell of dizziness threatened to bring her down, but she drew a couple long breaths and let them out slowly. Patty, the other person who knew about Frank Lewis, had died in odd circumstances. This was more than strange, it was damn near terrifying. She picked up her pace and shot a glance over her shoulder to check that there was no one behind her.
Her studio apartment came into view and she fumbled the keys in her haste to get inside. But once she was in the relative safety of the stairwell she let her mind wander back to Alejandro Soto…the man she knew nothing about. The man who seemed at the center of all this. The man that a stubborn part of her had insisted on talking to. Had that been a mistake? What if he was in on it?
She pulled the key from her backpack, shoved it in the keyhole and the door opened with a familiar lazy creak.
She had barely flicked on the Target standing lamp, when the intercom buzzed. Who could it be? No one ever visited her, and she hadn’t ordered Chinese. She pressed her finger on the talk button. “Yeah?” If the neighborhood kids were playing a prank on her again, she would give them a piece of her—
“Sydney. You just left my office. Alejandro Soto,” said the voice on the other end, and her skin prickled as if it’d been stroked with a feather. After the way he pronounced her name, the man didn’t need to identify himself. That wasn’t an accent one heard everyday, was it?
His South American drawl was cultured, engaging, deep.
“I told you everything I know,” she said, then cleared her throat trying to sound more composed. “How did you find out where I live?” she asked, and a chill skated down her spine. This was not a good thing. The last thing she needed was a stalker; even if he had the sexiest lips she laid her eyes on. Even if in person he was ten times yummier than on her screen—and all the more dangerous. Damn it, Sydney. Hadn’t life taught her a lesson? Men like him would always have leverage over her. They could put her away, behind bars, for things she wasn’t guilty of.
“Remember you had to show your driver’s license and give them your contact information to get through security?”
Oh shit. Yeah. She had almost given them a fake address, old habits died hard. But they asked to see her picture ID before issuing her a visitor’s badge, and she ended up being honest. “Okay, Sherlock. You got me.” She shuffled from foot to foot. “Why are you here?”
“You stormed out of my office. I was worried about you.” A sigh. “You just lost someone.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay. You don’t need to hand me tissues or anything,” she said, having a hard time picturing that ginormous man doing something so delicate. When he had grasped her in his office earlier, his large hands had caused an inside shiver. A man’s touch was not that familiar to her, and especially not that man’s—imposing. Mysterious. And uncomfortably handsome.
“Sydney, let me come up. I want to make sure you’re okay. Then I’ll go.”
Like she was going to let a complete stranger into her apartment. She heard his long intake of breath from the other end of the line, and assumed he waited for her response. She bent over the kitchen sink, the wariness of the day taking a toll on her. Until this second, she had thought her heart was problem free. Empty. Just the way it should be. Somehow, somewhere her friend had occupied a part of it—tiny enough to go unnoticed when she was alive, and big enough to increase the void now that she was gone.
Patty. Words got trapped in her throat.
A creak on the run-down laminate flooring made Sydney straighten her shoulders. Melted ice flowed through her veins.
There is someone here.
As the steps thumped closer behind her, she slid her hand on the stained vinyl countertop to reach for a knife in the sink. Her whole body tensed up. She dropped her gaze to the shiny piercing object, and stretched her fingers without moving a single part of her body but her hands. Too bad her pepper spray was lost in the confines of her backpack.
One.
More.
Footfall.
She heard Alejandro’s voice on the intercom, but couldn’t make sense of his words. The sound of her heartbeat flooded the room like a freaking ice storm. Trying hard to act before her assailant, she grabbed the knife in one swift move, ignoring the trembling of her fingertips.
Before she could turn around and protect herself—
She was shoved against the cabinets, her stomach slamming on the counter. The pain stiffened her body, and without a blink she grasped the knife and motioned to turn and cut the intruder.
“Couldn’t keep your mouth shut,” said a male voice, cold like snow, and before she spun, he thrust her against the cabinet. She barely registered that her hand hit against the tile, and the knife slid from her sweat-slicked fingers. This time, she felt like her head was piercing into the cheap wood, and ripping into pieces, the ache so powerful.
“What do you want?” she managed to ask, tasting blood in her mouth. She coughed, her throat thick and dry. Keeping up with the pounding of her heart, and the discomfort of being held against her wish, was too much.
The intercom chimed again. “Sydney? Are you there? Listen, I lost someone too. You shouldn’t be alone,” Alejandro said. “I’m coming up.”
She fidgeted against her captor, trying to figure her next move. The man clenched his hold on her so tight, she found it hard to breathe. His fingers dug in her skin, keeping them still with one hand while he pressed something against her ribcage with the other. Was it…a shotgun? The unforgiving coldness of the metal bit against her, and she gasped.
His bad breath fanned over her hair, and she had to swallow the bile forming in her throat. In a split second, her head was slamming on the wood. Then it all went dark.
***
“Sydney. Sydney.”
Sydney’s eyelids heaved. When she managed to open her eyes, a blur took over her field of vision. She passed her hand over her face, wishing she could understand what the hell was going on.
“It’s okay. You are safe,” said the male voice.
She tried to swallow, then realized her throat was drier than the Nevada desert. Clearing her throat was almost painful, but not nearly as bad as the pain pounding the back of her head. “You?” She blinked, and her eyes widened in surprise.
Oh no. There he was, the guy that seemed to be in the middle of all this mess…the guy who’s whispered name had sent her seeking him out…the guy who was clearly trouble…in the middle of a hospital room. She lay on the raised hospital bed, in a room with better furniture than her own. Well, no stretch there, right? Glancing at her hand, she realized she was on an IV drip.
“You’re okay? Thank God.”
“What the hell am I doing here? I can’t afford a fancy hospital.” She tried to get up but he stilled her.
“I brought you here. Don’t worry about the cost. I’m not having some stranger with a head injury on my conscience too.”
She lifted her hand to her head, and touched a bandage on her forehead. Her gaze ping-ponged between Alejandro, and the board hanging next to a sofa. The pager number of the doctor and nurse on duty were scribbled on the board, along with the name of a painkiller for her.
Whoa. She pulled her blanket up, even though she was wearing a god-awful green gown with the sex appeal of steamed broccoli. “What happened?” she asked.
“You were attacked. I was downstairs talking to you on the intercom, and then, nothing.”
The memory flashed back at her as if it were happening right then and there. A trickle of sweat slid down her neck. Her stomach tightened, and she stiffened. Someone had been in her place. Someone…
“I got worried when you didn’t answer. I snuck in when someone was leaving the building, and when I got to your place, the door was open and you
were unconscious.”
“How long ago was it?”
He glanced at his watch. “A few hours. I brought you here to make sure you didn’t have a concussion.” He put up a hand and patted her to stop her sitting up again. “According to the CAT scan you’re fine.”
“I can’t pay you back. My insurance would never cover this sort of place.”
“No need. I’ll take care of it.”
She pushed his hand away and sat upright, clenching the sheets so tight, her knuckles turned Crayola white. Despite the sparkling clean hardwood floors and the heavy door that probably led to a waiting area inside the suite, Sydney was still confined. Her heart drummed those beats she could never get used to. Loud. Menacing. “I need to get out of here.”
He shook his head. “We have to talk.”
Talk? Even breathing was a stretch, she realized. Panic slicked her palms, oxygen in short supply. She tried to close her eyes and focus on good things, to let the air out. But the flash of the last time she had experienced confinement, in a prison cell, stabbed at her mind and she opened her eyes again. Her head spun even thinking about walking and her chest started tightening. Crap. There was no running.
The contours of his face tightened. “Sydney, do you need me to call the nurse? You’re pale.”
“No,” she said, and lifted her hand to her chest, willing the pain away. “I’m having a panic attack,” she said, and found solace at watching the dry-erase board with her name on it. While she managed to suck in her breath and let it out slowly, she read the names of the doctors. Dr. Rembrandt. Nurse Smith.
A few minutes later, her blood pressure settled and the agony fled from her body like a refugee from a war camp. Phew. “I’m okay,” she said, more to herself than to him.
A small smile ruffled his lips, and she wished she could kick him. Why would fate bring a complete stranger to see her at her most vulnerable state?
What if he was there to hurt her? Unlikely. Why would he take her to the hospital, when he could have hurt her in the anonymity of her tiny apartment? The idea of him in her place was odd at best. The only other man who’d gotten close to her door had been the pizza delivery guy. Alejandro’s presence in her living room would be a bright red stain on a silky white sheet. Well, maybe a worn-out cotton sheet.
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