Prisoner of Love

by Cathy Skendrovich

  “I’m not trying to make you angry.”

  Aww, shit. Here she was, on the run with all her worldly possessions stuffed in a backpack, a cut on her face from a knife wielded by someone out to catch him, and she was apologizing to him? He was the cause of all the upheaval in her life and she was sorry? He was an asshole, plain and simple.

  He reached out and pulled her to him in a one-armed hug, dropped a kiss on top of that cute, pink hat before releasing her. “I’m not angry, Luce. Never at you. I’m angry at the situation, and at myself for getting you involved. You’re right. I wasn’t expecting a car any more than you were. But maybe there’s a clue.”

  He immediately bent down into the open driver’s door and spied an envelope on the black leather passenger seat. Oh, hell, he thought, knowing it would be a message from his former friend. He wasn’t sure how he would react to seeing Jerry’s handwriting from the grave.

  He barely noticed Lucy move away to slump cross-legged on the concrete floor as he sat in the driver’s seat and carefully slit open the envelope. He found a stack of slightly used, one hundred-dollar bills nestled inside.

  Jake stared, then numbly folded the wad and slipped it into his hoodie pocket. Then he turned his reluctant attention to the letter written in Jerry’s slashed style of writing, immersing himself in what might well be his friend’s last living words.

  Jake,

  Well, shit, bro, if you’re reading this it means I’m gone. Toast. Off into the great unknown. And that sucks for me. But anyway, gotta keep this short and to the point. No cry baby stuff, you hear? You’ve been like a brother to me, man, and I want you to know that.

  This car is yours. I know you wanted that restaurant, but hey, a Porsche is amazing, and I was hoping to be around to drive it. But I’m not, I guess, so it’s yours. After all, you couldn’t run the restaurant without me, so that makes this the better investment. At least I think so.

  It’s clean. Completely paid for. No hassles for you. I made sure of that. And it isn’t hot, either, so you don’t have to drive it looking over your shoulder all the time. Enjoy it, and think of me while you’re driving it. The money here is a down payment for all the shit I’ve put you through. Check the glovebox in case that shit gets violent.

  I’m sorry I was never as strong as you, Jake. But you knew that all our lives, didn’t you? You’ve protected me from myself forever, bro, but I guess everything finally caught up with me. It’s been great being your friend and partner. Now go on out there and fight the good fight. I’ll be fine.

  Jerry

  The words on the paper blurred as Jake’s eyes filled, the tears trickling down his cheeks because of his dead friend’s joking farewell. He swiped his face angrily while blinking furiously.

  “Damn it, Jer. Why’d you go and get yourself killed, you dumb-ass? You point a gun at me and then you hand me a frickin’ racecar. Now I’m left holding the bag.” Obviously, Jerry had written this before Jake last saw him. The least you coulda done was tell me who was skimming off the top. Shit. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hard, and attempted to stave off the rush of more tears. It truly was his last, best moment with his late childhood friend.

  A gentle hand touched his shoulder. “Jake? Are you all right?”

  He blinked rapidly, holding up the letter without making a sound. He couldn’t choke any words past the lump of sorrow anyway. She took in the letter and her gaze softened.

  “It’s okay to cry for your friend, Jake. You two had a long history, right?”

  Gazing out the windshield, he nodded.

  Studying Jake’s shaggy head, Lucy felt an odd stirring within, similar to attraction, but something more. She knew she was drawn to him, had come to terms with the realization after that steamy kiss they’d shared. But now she also felt a—a protective feeling toward him. She wanted to hold him like he’d held her after she’d been attacked. Comfort him and tell him everything would be all right even though she had no idea whether it ever would be again.

  And then he raised his head, eyes glistening, a lopsided smirk crossing his face.

  “If you tell anyone—anyone—about this, I’ll categorically deny it, and even lock your sexy ass in jail for slander, Lucy.”

  She raised her brows above her glasses frames, surprised at his mercurial mood change. And cracked a relieved smile in return.

  Just like that, they were back on even ground.

  Leaning forward, he opened the glovebox. And whistled. He pulled out a gun. A blunt-nosed, fit-in-the-palm-of-your-hand gun. Great, another weapon. Lucy slid back, not comfortable around it. Closing the box, Jake pushed out of the driver’s seat, wiped his eyes once, and pocketed the firearm. Then he folded the letter and put it with the gun.

  “Jerry just leveled the playing field for us.” She caught his look and watched as he once more circled the Porsche. A thoughtful expression passed over his face; it warned her he was thinking again, and thinking hard. So she stood silently, watching him as he paced.

  At last he stopped and studied the car. “This falls right into the plan I was hatching. It’s as if Jerry was still working this case.”

  “What plan? You have a plan?” She sounded skeptical even to herself, but he just laughed.

  “Yeah, I do. It’s a road trip, sweetheart, so jump in for the ride of your life.” He moved around to the driver’s side of the Porsche.

  “Where to?” she asked suspiciously, never one to blindly obey. He should know that by now about her. His grin widened.

  “Vegas, baby. We’re going to Vegas.”

  Lucy slept through a good portion of the desert drive, the events from the night before catching up to her. Jake didn’t help matters by rambling on about The Car, as she dubbed it in her mind. It shifted so smoothly, it was so aerodynamic, it had enough horsepower it could—yada, yada, yada. Soon she drifted off, leaving him to admire the vehicle in silence.

  Four hours later, she stood in the lobby of the Continental Hotel on the Las Vegas Strip, a grandiose resort and casino of Italian-inspired design, complete with a canal and real gondolas cruising outside and inside the hotel. Hordes of tourists crammed the huge carpeted and marble lobby. A cacophony of languages and conversations surrounded her.

  She contemplated why they were here while she waited in the check-in line. Jake hadn’t told her much, and then she’d fallen asleep. It didn’t sound like a good idea to use the money from his dead partner, so she pulled out the cash she’d retrieved after the attack in her apartment. Spending stolen money might send Jake to jail for real this time.

  There was that protective feeling again, the one that had started back in the storage unit. It had been her downfall in the past, but this time she swore it felt different. Jake Dalton was the type of man who could accept an independent woman. He’d come to her when he was out of options, hadn’t he? Of course, he was also the one who had initially involved her in this mess, but she couldn’t imagine herself sitting this out. Whatever happened next, she wanted to be around, even if it meant she would be in danger. And that told her…

  Her head started to throb and Lucy rubbed her forehead. She knew Jake wanted to “follow the money,” as he’d put it when they’d started out from the storage facility, but right now she just wanted to lie down. Close her eyes and escape reality for a while.

  She stammered her way through the check-in process when she got to the counter. She used her ID since Jake had none. He was leaning against the far wall, head down, trying to look inconspicuous. Any minute now she was sure hotel security would barge in and grab him. Wasn’t there a manhunt still going on for Nicky Costas? Her palms began to sweat at the thought, her knees started to tremble.

  “You’re all set, Ms. Parker. Enjoy your stay.”

  Lucy blinked at the clerk then nodded quickly, grabbing the key and hustling away. She slowed as she approached Jake, taking a moment to study him before he was aware of her presence. Her fear receded slightly when she realized he looked like every other guy her
e in the lobby. Blue jeans, sneakers, sunglasses, and a backpack. No one could see the guns he’d hidden inside the pack. Or the money he’d inherited from a friend who’d been killed by a sniper’s bullet—

  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

  She hadn’t realized she was staring until he spoke, saying the words he’d said to her the day he’d jumped into her car. She felt her face heat. He smiled at her, though she couldn’t see his eyes through the dark glasses. That one crooked smile from him eased her tension. No one was coming to arrest him right now. They were just a couple checking in for a few days of gambling and shows.

  “C’mon, the elevators are this way,” he said, taking the key card she offered. She fell into step beside him.

  The clamor of video slots followed them all the way to the bank of elevators, past a guard checking for room cards, right into the carpeted elevator occupied by about five other tourists.

  She closed her eyes, listening to the music piped in around them, its soothing sound lulling her. The short nap she’d had in the car had done little to counter her overwhelming fatigue. After the elevator chimed their floor, she lagged behind Jake toward their room.

  “Here we are, sweetheart. Home sweet home.” He swung open the door, allowing her to enter before him. She ground to a halt just over the threshold, causing him to run into her.

  “What’s wrong?” He pushed her toward the wall, his body moving ahead, physically shielding her. “Lucy?”

  No, there was no imminent danger. Well, notwithstanding the man beside her.

  He moved briskly through the suite, checking for threats. She stood numbly by the door.

  “Come on, sweetheart.” He took her hand, guiding her into the suite where one plush, king-sized bed commanded attention. Beautifully coiffed in golds, silvers, and creams, the bed boasted curtains that matched the window coverings, as well as the gold velvet couches and settee.

  “There’s only one bed,” she pointed out unnecessarily.

  He pushed past her, stepping down from the bed section into the sitting area and flopping the backpack onto one of the golden couches. He grabbed a remote off the wall and pointed it at the window draperies while explaining, “There’s one in the couch, too.” He pressed the remote, and the curtains at the window drew back automatically. She stared at the extravagance, rooted where she stood.

  “How do you know? Have you been here before?”

  He turned from the partial view of the Strip and studied her. She shut up, immediately self-conscious and exhausted. Pacing back toward her, he stayed on the lower level. “Yes, when I come to Vegas, I stay here. All the rooms are suites. That’s why I like this hotel. And since we needed to come here, why not be comfortable?

  “Now that we’re here, why don’t you take a nap, while I go to that gas station my boss said the marked money showed up at. You look wiped out, and that’s my fault. You should be safe, and I won’t be long—”

  “You want me to take a nap?” Her eyes goggled, voice rising. “You jump in my car, parade me around the mountains, lead a hitman to my door, the mob boss you worked for is searching for you, and now you want me to take a nap while you go play detective? What happens if they find you out there? How am I going to know if you’re okay? If you think I’m the only one who needs a nap, think again. But the problem is, you’re not thinking.”

  Lucy stared at him from the step above, although he was so much taller, their positions put them at eye level. All the worry, the fear, and exhaustion exploded within her. She had to make him understand that this harebrained idea didn’t just affect him. It also involved her. In a big way. He couldn’t just bound into her life, make her start to fall for him, and then make a decision that could take him away from her forever. No, he couldn’t. And she was going to tell him so.

  She about-faced and strode toward the room’s door before pivoting to look back at him. And then she felt the embarrassing burn of tears. Not now. Not now.

  “You’ve dragged me into this mess, Jake, forced me to leave my home, my car, my job, my life, and now you’re going to strand me in another state, with a ‘hot’ car and even hotter money, just so you can play James Bond? I don’t think so.”

  O—kaay, Jake thought to himself, shifting his feet in the uncomfortable silence. So, she was pissed. Seriously pissed. Like in, take-a-knife-and-carve-him-a-tattoo pissed.

  But, this is what he did for a living. Follow leads, clear up inconsistencies. Keep the innocent safe. That’s why he’d brought her along, wasn’t it? Oh, hell, who was he kidding? Yes, he’d brought Lucy along to safeguard her, but he also hadn’t wanted to say good-bye yet. Not after that kiss they’d shared. Not after they’d spent a day getting to know each other, living as a couple, even if it had been pretend.

  Shit, being honest with himself was giving him a headache. Or maybe it was the twenty-four hours of being awake. He rubbed his forehead and wondered if the sexy accountant was right. Maybe they both needed some downtime before moving on with the investigation. But he was so close, knew he was on the right track. All he needed…

  Jake cocked his head, unable to finish the thought as he stared at Lucy’s bowed head. Was she…crying?

  Feeling his heart crumble, he moved closer to Lucy, who definitely was emitting mewling sounds. Nothing like her foghorn wails. But still, it bothered him to see her upset.

  Damn it all to hell. What was he supposed to do now? He had no experience with crying females. They were supposed to cry after he left, leave him oblivious to their grief—not that he’d invested enough time with any female to give her a reason to waste tears on him. He wasn’t supposed to be put through this turmoil.

  But this was Lucy, not some “what happens in Vegas” bimbo he’d picked up by the Wheel of Fortune slots and chosen as his “nail-ee” for the night. Lucy, of the poor self-image and the razor-sharp brain. The girl who thought on her feet and didn’t take his bullshit. The accountant with the body that could steal his attention away from the Porsche downstairs just by standing next to it. This was the person he’d reduced to tears.

  He lowered his hand to her shoulder. “Lucy?” He tried to peer into her face, but her cupped hands hid her from view.

  He blundered on, navigating uncharted waters with someone whom he feared he was becoming seriously attached to, if how he felt right now was any indication. “I’m—I’m sorry for bringing you into this mess. I really am. I’ve told you that, and I’m telling you again. I wish I’d never jumped into your car—”

  Quick as that, she spun around, shoved him backward with two fists to his chest. “I wish you hadn’t. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you going off by yourself to solve this case. I wouldn’t have to wonder if you’ll be shot or killed. I wouldn’t have to care about you.”

  She gave one last mighty push, sending him stumbling back. He kept his hands at his sides, accepting her tirade as his due. When she stopped pushing him away, he swallowed hard, anticipating the reaming out that he so sorely deserved. “Damn it, Jake. I wish I hadn’t fallen for you.”

  He didn’t know what shocked him more: the fact that conservative Lucy Parker had used a swear word, or the fact that, contrary to all that had come before, she grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him to her, latching her lips on to his in a desperation-fueled kiss that rocked his world.

  He had been kissed by dozens of women over the years. A good portion of them had initiated the act, too. And maybe they’d been more skilled with their mouths than an accountant with a penchant for choosing losers, but never had Jake lost control so completely, so quickly, as when Lucy Parker at last surrendered to their mutual attraction.

  The moment she grabbed hold of his shoulders he free fell into the kiss, a smokejumper leaping without a chute, knowing full well he’d be consumed by the inferno but craving the heat.

  With only a few nips and scrapes of her teeth, her mouth shot him right to that flashpoint of white-hot desire. God, he wanted to take command of this embrac
e, but it was so damned sexy, so frickin’ hot to be on the receiving end of a woman losing control.

  When he lifted his head to inhale some much needed air, her fingertips let go of his shirt and dove to the back of his head, angling his mouth for better access. Once more their lips fused together.

  Wanting to anchor himself before he exploded right where he stood, Jake placed his hands at her back, impatient fingertips roving over her sweatshirt. And still she held him to her, plunging her tongue into his mouth, shocking a groan of pure, dark lust from deep within him.

  His inner fight for restraint shattered. He ran his hands up beneath that bulky sweatshirt, growled appreciatively into her mouth at the feel of her hot skin under his fingertips.

  In a second, she drew back, chest heaving, tears drying on her cheeks. Her glasses were steamed. There was the answer to that question, he noted as he gulped air into oxygen-deprived lungs. They stared at each other.

  Needing to stop the tiptoeing around their obvious attraction for each other, he cocked his head, and asked in as calm a voice as he could muster, “Well, Lucy? Where do we go from here? It’s your decision.”

  At this moment, her answer was the most important response in his entire life. Right now he didn’t give a damn about Farelli, or stolen money, or even the luxury sports car waiting downstairs. He needed to get Lucy out of his system once and for all.

  The only problem was, when she reached down, grasped the bottom of her sweatshirt, and pulled it over her head, Jake didn’t know if what they were about to do was going to ease his obsession with her, or make it even stronger.

  He feared he already knew the answer.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucy dropped her sweatshirt to the floor and stared into Jake’s eyes, unsure of what she was doing. It was a step she couldn’t take back, didn’t want to take back, but still she hesitated. She knew she was already emotionally invested in him, but she wasn’t sure about his feelings for her.