by Joanne Rock
The morose turn of her thoughts called her to remember Gena had lived. After a week of fighting for her life, she had turned a corner. Of course, it had taken months of grueling physical therapy to retrain her legs how to walk, her thigh and hip sustaining grave damage. She’d never walk without a limp, but the rest of her had recovered faster than Vanessa, who still found ways to blame herself for what had happened and still sought out cars with tinted windows.
Just like this one.
“Have you had this car for long?” She remembered he said he grew up in Bensonhurst, but he had to be at least thirty years old. The lines around his eyes had seen some living.
Had they seen an innocent twenty-year-old crumble to the curb?
“I just picked it up two years ago.” Slowing for a stop sign, Alec leaned forward in his seat to peer down a one-way street. “It took me that long to decide it was okay to reward myself now and then.”
As the streets grew darker in a less populated part of town, she realized they were heading toward the Cross Bronx Expressway, navigating the small side streets beneath the highway.
Always a good place for crime.
“And you haven’t had any problems rolling through the South Bronx in a sedan worth a hundred Gs?” Back in the days she lived here, kids in junior high would pry hubcaps off cars like this to wear as medallions off the cheap gold chains they bought from a guy on the street. She’d never been sure if the look was supposed to convey status—as in “look at what expensive cars I can rip off”—or if the trend merely served to show off unusually strong neck muscles.
Vanessa had missed out on a lot of nuances in her preteens since she’d still been wearing the hand-me-down eyeglasses given to Nana by a social worker who’d wanted a smoke alarm installed. She’d spent two years of tripping over her own feet before they could afford to put new lenses in those frames. Damn, but she wanted to get out of this part of the city before she lost her mind to the past. Thankfully, the entrance to the highway should be just up ahead. Tension knotted in her gut.
“I think the general assumption is that only a drug dealer would have the balls to drive through here in this kind of Mercedes. And the locals stay away from the dealers. Either way, I’ve never had any problems.” He slowed to a stop at the entrance ramp where a fire hydrant sprayed water in an arc over the street, flooding the road. Two sawhorses had been erected around the mess, but there were no road workers in sight.
Damn.
They wouldn’t be entering the freeway here. Unless she hopped out to move the sawhorses and they could plow through the water? “You think the Mercedes could make it through this? I don’t care where we go, Alec, but I’d like to leave the Bronx far behind.”
Too bad he was already putting the car into reverse.
“No problem.” Leaning on the accelerator, he redirected the car through the darkness, the majority of the streetlights broken. Maybe someone had tossed rocks at them. Or shot them out with a gun. “We can go this way.”
The tension in her gut knotted all the more.
“Freaking Tony.” Muttering under her breath, Vanessa cursed the abominable lack of effort by the local road crews as she shrank down in her seat. Thanks to the flooded ramp, they’d have to backtrack.
ALEC HAD NEVER BEEN the sensitive type. He had no clue what women wanted, and no real desire to find out. He knew they smelled good and tasted better. This one in particular.
So it didn’t surprise him that he had no idea what the sizzling cop in his passenger seat wanted from him. But it seemed to his limited understanding of women that Vanessa Torres was more complicated than the average female. If men were from Mars and women were from Venus, Vanessa had probably dropped by the rec center from Pluto, her ways unfathomable to his kind.
She’d been brooding in his passenger seat for almost fifteen minutes straight, barely managing civil conversation. And now when she finally spoke to him, her only request had been to get her the hell out of here.
Alec knew a shortcut, and the V12 engine could plow through these streets in record time. He’d do what she asked, and he’d cross his fingers that she would continue to ask for what she wanted, because he could never hope to understand cryptic phrases like Freaking Tony, without her interpreting.
He shifted into high gear and blasted down a deserted street of businesses that had been boarded up twenty years ago, anxious to get them both someplace safe. His speedometer hit fifty miles an hour when a car pulled out of nowhere and stopped in the middle of the one-way, perpendicular to the narrow lane.
“Shit.” Slamming on the brakes, the vehicle skidded and screeched across the asphalt with a squeal that could have been heard all the way to Jersey. The seat belt tore into his skin, his swerve lurching him so far sideways he was forced to view the scene in front of him from a ninety-degree angle. His head hit the steering wheel at some point, and he wasn’t sure if he shouted inside, or if Vanessa was screaming at the top of her lungs. Noise blared through his ears and filled his whole head. Through the dizzying spin of the vehicle, he thought he saw Vanessa crack her head against the window.
Thank God for German engineering, or he would have creamed the other car. As they turned askew in the skid, he could see the beat-up Chevy that didn’t even have its headlights on.
No wonder he hadn’t seen the thing.
The smell of burned rubber assailed his senses, his sedan now cranked around perpendicular to the road. The street lamps must have been shot out on this block because the usual city lights were nowhere to be found. About six blocks away, he could see a blinking yellow stoplight, reminding him it must be after midnight by now. He reached for Vanessa’s hand, needing to make sure she was safe.
Before he could touch her, the passenger window smashed through from the outside.
“Get out of the car.” The male voice barked into the vehicle as arms reached in from the darkness to unlock the door and yank Vanessa from the sedan. The unseen speaker shouted obscenities while another man forced the barrel of an automatic weapon into the Mercedes.
Alec tried to launch out of the other side of the car but his seat belt was still on, his head muddled from the blow on the steering wheel.
Shit.
He thought about the .22 caliber Beretta he’d stowed in his bag in the back seat. Three feet away might as well be three miles for all the good it would do him now.
“Get out of the car.” The kid with the semiautomatic shotgun crouched into Alec’s line of sight, butting the barrel through the door and up against his chest. The piece vibrated with the guy’s nerves, adrenaline or possibly a drug high. His face was mostly covered with a Raiders bandanna, but his eyes remained visible. “No one tries to be a hero and no one gets hurt, you get me?”
Tensing, Alec forced himself to remain as still as possible to keep the situation calm since the kid sounded scared. Overexcited. Alec’s ears strained to hear what was happening to Vanessa out on the street, but she didn’t make a sound.
Anger pulsed through him. Had the Mercedes made them a target for anonymous thieves? Hard to believe when most people ran and hid from expensive cars in a drug-ridden neighborhood like this. Or had Uncle Sergio’s goons caught up with them? If he’d had someone tailing Vanessa during her investigation to find Alec, then chances were excellent Sergio already knew their whereabouts. The carjacking could be another scare tactic—and not the first one Alec had received.
“Just tell me what you want from us.” Alec didn’t move an unnecessary muscle as he spoke. He’d faced down guys like this at the center before and he had a knack for talking them down. Or at least talking his way into staying alive. But he’d never had to protect anyone else before and Vanessa had hit her head in the crash.
She might be a cop, but like Easy had pointed out earlier tonight, all the fancy-ass martial-arts moves in the world wouldn’t stop a bullet if she pissed off the wrong people.
For that matter, maybe Vanessa’s police connection would make her an even mor
e enticing target. Please don’t let them see her badge.
“I want your rich ass out of the car right now.” The kid hit the unlock button on the passenger door to open the whole car. Rearing back with the gun, he cracked the barrel—hard—into Alec’s jaw. “Now!”
Pain radiated up the side of his face, the weapon digging out a chunk of skin but—thank God—not firing. The back of his head slammed into the driver-side window as he scrambled for the door handle.
Crazy, edgy bastards had to be high. Good criminals—okay, smart criminals—never took those kinds of stupid risks.
Maybe the Raiders fan’s partner wasn’t quite as brainless since Alec heard him reaming out his friend on the other side of the car. Alec’s feet hit the pavement, head still spinning as he sought out Vanessa’s position.
Crumpled. Bound. Lying sideways on the street.
Holy—
His first instinct was to run to her, but if they shot him before he reached her side, who would help her? The street remained eerily calm and quiet except for the two carjackers arguing loudly about which one of them was man enough to handle the Mercedes. If anyone lived on this block, and Alec knew damn well there were residences above the hole-in-the-wall businesses, they were all hiding out deep in their apartments, far away from the windows. Innocent people were caught in crossfire all too often here.
Slow. Slow. The whole time he inventoried the block he kept half an eye on Vanessa. Had she moved, or had that just been wishful thinking?
Alec would never forgive himself for dragging her into his messed up life if she was hurt.
The V12 motor revved into gear beside him, the engine racing as the car skidded up the street in reverse, tires squealing with the momentum of zero to sixty in 4.6 seconds.
The car had backed up nearly a block when a barrage of gunfire erupted from the vehicle. Alec hit the pavement, diving forward to cover Vanessa’s body with his own even though the gangsters’ rowdy yells were already retreating into the night.
Drugged-up bastards were going to kill someone.
Rolling off Vanessa, Alec’s sense of relief that she was alive mingled with a fear of what might have happened to her tonight.
“Are you hit?” He smoothed his hands over her back, her waist, as the squeal of tires and sporadic gunfire receded into the night, replaced by normal traffic sounds. A loud radio blaring in the distance. “Did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” Her ragged breath said otherwise as she raised herself up on an elbow. It was the sharp intake of someone in pain. “But they got you. Jesus, Alec. They got you.”
Voice quaking with raw emotion, she sounded so upset, so tense, it took him a minute to figure out what she was saying. He only just realized her hands were bound with a ratty bungee cord, her arms pinned behind her.
“They didn’t get me. One of them rammed the end of his gun into my face, but it’s no big deal.” Gathering his wits about him now that some of the ringing in his ears had died down, he moved to untie the frayed cord cutting into her wrists. “I’m fine and we’re getting the hell out of here just as soon as I get you free.”
“I couldn’t get to my gun.” She whispered the words as if she didn’t quite believe it, her speech far away and thready as she stared at the gash on his face. In fact, she sounded like someone in shock.
But that didn’t make sense, did it? She was a cop. A damned good one who’d kicked his butt in the gym tonight.
“Where’s your gun?” He hadn’t felt it when he searched her for injuries. “Did those bastards take your pistol?”
“It’s in my waistband.” She sounded a little steadier as he freed her wrists and helped her to her feet. “I hit my head when the car went into a skid and I couldn’t get to it when he grabbed me.”
“At least you still have it.” Beat the crap out of his track record with a weapon since his remained in the sedan. The carjackers scored a five-star haul tonight.
“But I should have used it. Why else does the city pay me to carry a gun?” Her eyes were anguished as she swiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “Being here…in the Bronx…has been messing with my head all day. I’m not thinking straight.”
“Well, since my brain was effectively scrambled by the nose of a twelve-gauge shotgun tonight, we’ll make a hell of a pair.” Actually, he’d been far more scared of having that gun held on her, but he didn’t figure she’d appreciate his pointing that out. His head throbbed from jaw to temple, the drying blood caking into a stiff mask along one cheek.
Reaching into the pocket of his jeans for his wallet, he didn’t want to let on that he was worried about her. Right now, he just needed to make a call and since his cell phone resided in the Mercedes along with everything else, he would be forced to hunt down a pay phone. He had to get them someplace safe before Vanessa decided to haul her sweet butt back to the security of her precinct tonight instead of hanging around a potential mobster.
As if he’d blame her.
“The gunfire.” Her eyes were huge in her face, the pupils dilated so wide she looked more like a child’s doll than a living, breathing woman. “It didn’t hit anyone?”
She peered around the deserted street as if she fully expected a body to appear.
“I think they fired into the air.” Finding two quarters, Alec scouted out a pay phone and reached to bring Vanessa with him while he called a car to come pick them up.
No sooner had he wrapped his hand around hers than headlights appeared at the end of the street, a taxi sign perched on the roof.
Thank you, God.
Alec didn’t know what kind of riffraff might scuttle up the street in the wake of a carjacking to pick over the victims, but in this neighborhood, he definitely didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.
Flagging down the cab, he helped Vanessa inside and slid in next to her.
“I hear trouble a few blocks away.” The cab driver with a name chock full of consonants on his ID tag gestured to the east. “Bad neighborhood at this hour. Very bad.”
“You’re not kidding.” Alec pulled out a wad of cash and slid it through the slot in the safety glass behind the driver. “Thanks for stopping.”
“You’re very welcome.” The cabbie’s smile filled the rearview mirror. “Where to?”
Alec wouldn’t give Vanessa a chance to weigh in on this one. If the thugs had been Sergio’s goons, Vanessa and he needed to go into hiding—fast.
A hotel was out because he didn’t want to advertise his presence with a credit card. But Al Perez—Alec’s alter ego—still had a few tricks up his sleeve. Giving the driver the address, Alec settled into his seat as they took off.
“Isn’t that Trump Tower?” Vanessa twitched nervously in the seat beside him, her attention flitting from Alec to the city sprawl outside her window and back again.
“Al Perez’s home away from home.” He just hoped Vanessa would be okay once he got her there. “Like it or not, lady, you’re bunking with me until we find out who’s after us.”
5
“I’M NOT STAYING WITH YOU.” Vanessa didn’t know what would happen if she spent the night in close proximity to Alec, but it wouldn’t be pretty. Her emotions had been tense to start with and then scraped raw by the bandanna-wearing gunmen who’d yanked her out of the car. She’d nearly lost it when gunshots had rung out over the deserted street tonight.
Visions of her sister falling mingled with Alec diving to the ground. Fears old and new left the metallic taste of horror on her tongue. For a few breath-robbing seconds, she’d thought he had been hit, too.
“You don’t have a choice.” Alec stared at her from too close in their cocoon of back-seat privacy, his features magnified as she realized somehow she’d ended up wrapped in his arms. And yet, she was so cold inside, so numb straight through, she barely even felt those strong muscles holding her.
Her breath came faster in all the signs of a panic attack—a phenomenon that had plagued her for three months after Gena’s acci
dent. And oh God, she couldn’t afford to lose it now. Not with Alec right next to her.
Holding her, for crying out loud.
“You don’t understand.” And with the colored spots dancing in front of her vision, she wasn’t sure she had the mental wherewithal to explain. “I’ve been a detective on the force for almost five years, and not once have I let a situation rattle me.”
“These guys weren’t playing around, Vanessa.” He squeezed her tighter. So hard she could almost imagine he touched something inside her. “Christ, cut yourself some slack.”
His words sounded far away, yet his touch—too rough, too forceful and somehow just right—grounded her in a way no rational argument could. Taking deep breaths, she allowed herself to soak up the feel of his arms banded around her, the scent of his soap chasing away the stale air of the cab until she could breathe again.
Never before had the human touch wielded such a powerful effect for her. For months after Gena’s accident, Vanessa had actively searched for forgetfulness in a man’s arms. Any man’s arms. It had been a painful time in her life made all the worse by her attempts to revive some sense of feeling in her numb existence.
What did it mean that Alec could make her feel something now, when nothing had touched her in the past?
“I need a certain amount of professional distance to maintain objectivity here.” She stared down at his arms wrapped around her, knowing she couldn’t even work up a suitable glare when all she wanted to do was burrow into that strong chest and not come out for a week. Or two. “I’m not going to be able to help you if I’m shaken up, and I’m not saying those guys scared me, but I will admit that I’ve been off my game from the moment I stepped foot in the Bronx tonight for reasons I’m not prepared to discuss.”