“Whoa!” He held his hands up in surrender and slowly backed away. “I shouldn’t have had those drinks before coming over. This isn’t how I meant things to go.” He plopped into a patio chair, shaking his head. “I came here to talk, but you’re all dolled up and looking gorgeous, and waltz in wearing another man’s jacket. I assume it belongs to the asshole. Did you go out with him?”
Carlie crossed her arms over her body, still keeping the pepper spray handy. “What did you want to talk about?”
Stephen’s face softened and his eyes shown with an almost-pleading quality. “Us.”
“Us? There is no ‘us,’” she said, making an air quote with her free hand.
“But I thought we were working toward an us.”
“By blackmailing me into dating you? Suggesting we should have sex on our first date? Calling me a prick tease and the ice queen yesterday?” Carlie snorted. “Sounds like a solid foundation for love.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did.”
He clenched his hands into fists. “Why do you do this?”
“Call you on your crap?” She shrugged, relaxing her own hand from a fist. “You don’t really like me, Stephen. What’s going on here?” Because a horrible suspicion crept into her mind, and she didn’t like it one bit.
Though Carlie knew she wasn’t ugly, she’d also never be a great beauty. All her life she had lurked in the shadow of prettier girls, rarely dating, always in the background, watching. Suddenly, in a single month, two unbelievably handsome men fought for her affection. Why?
“Who hired you?” She stepped forward, holding the pepper spray ready.
“Hired me?”
The bewilderment on Stephen’s face seemed genuine, but Carlie wouldn’t expect him to admit anything if he was in the employ of Ryan’s enemies. It did beg the question, though—had they found her again so soon? However, if that were the case, she didn’t understand why Stephen or Nick hadn’t already killed her. She’d been alone with both of them now.
Maybe she’d been running scared for so long, she could no longer recognize normal relationships. It wasn’t impossible for two men to become attracted to her. She’d been with men before, and Ryan had liked her enough to bed her and get her pregnant.
Sure, Stephen was a sleaze, but before he took an interest in her, she’d seen him act that way with other women. And Nick...she wanted him to be the real thing, so much. He had a touch of arrogance, but that might be because he was a strong businessman used to getting his own way, not because he was a killer. He had been incredibly sweet today, and Carlie didn’t want to believe he played her.
“I don’t understand.” Stephen’s voice was more tender than she’d ever imaged it could be. “You think someone hired me to date you? I’m confused. Why would they do that? And who would need payment to date someone as wonderful as you?”
Lowering the pepper spray to her side, she crossed the porch and sat in the chair farthest from him. “Never mind that. I’m not sure what I’m thinking.” If he truly just liked her, Carlie hoped he was drunk enough that he wouldn’t remember her asking that later. “You obviously had a purpose for coming here. Say what you need to say.”
He dropped his head into his hands and scrubbed at his face. “I’m sorry for the way I talked to you. Women like it when I use pet names. I thought you were flirting when you said you didn’t like it.”
“Flirting?” She shook her head violently. “How stupid can you be?”
His head snapped up. “So, now I’m stupid? God, Carlie. I come here to pour my heart out to you, and all you can do is insult me.”
She sighed. As much as she didn’t like Stephen, it was against everything she stood for to hurt someone’s feelings on purpose. “You’re not stupid, I’m sorry for saying that, but I don’t know how much clearer I could be. I told you several times on our date to stop calling me that, and then I left when you continued to do so.”
“I thought you left because I suggested we come back here and cuddle.”
Cuddle, my foot. “That also had something to do with it.”
“Damn. You’re the only girl to ever reject me. Am I losing my touch?”
Suddenly, it made sense why Stephen wanted to be with her. It had nothing to do with being hired to kill her. Heck, it didn’t even have to do with her. She was the first woman he couldn’t charm. It must be a devastating blow to that enormous ego.
“Stephen, there’s nothing wrong with you. You know that. Women are lined up, just waiting to be noticed by you.”
“Except you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to date you, but I could still use a friend.” The words left her mouth before she took time to think about it, but she wished she hadn’t said them. Carlie didn’t want to be his friend.
“Do you mean that? No hard feelings between us?”
Well, friendship was better than fighting, so she nodded. “We’re fine, just no more name calling, okay?”
He leaned over, squeezing her empty hand in his. “Forgive me?”
Hastily pulling her hand from his grasp, she nodded. “I’m tired and need to get some sleep,” she said, eager to get away from him. “Please tell me you didn’t drive here.”
“I took a cab. Probably can’t get one back this time of night, but I think I’ll walk home. I need to clear my head.”
“I’ll drive you.” With her fears calmed and her adrenaline slowing, Carlie once again noticed the bite of cold. Stephen wore a hooded sweatshirt, but it wouldn’t keep him from freezing since the wind had picked up.
“Are you sure?” He stood and held his hand out to help her up. “I don’t want to be a bother, but it is pretty cold.”
She accepted his help, dropped the pepper spray back into her purse, and fished out her car keys. “If you behave yourself, I might even slow down when I throw you out of the car.”
He grinned. “Friends always behave, even if I do still find you incredibly attractive.”
Sighing, she led the way to her car. Knowing Stephen, he wouldn’t be able to help himself from making more passes at her, but now she understood where his attraction came from so she could handle it. The forbidden was always a tasty fruit, and Carlie wouldn’t give Stephen what he wanted.
If she continued seeing Nick, she knew he wouldn’t like Stephen hanging around or claiming a friendship with her—he’d made that pretty clear. She’d have to worry about his reaction later, though, since she couldn’t do anything about it tonight.
At least Stephen wasn’t a hit man. She could be friends with anyone, as long as they weren’t out to kill her.
***
Nick sped down the dark streets. Another half hour had passed and Carlie still hadn’t texted. He had paced his hotel room, telling himself she met up with Muhammad to discuss their plans to destroy America. Eventually he couldn’t handle it, and the worry gnawing on his gut turned to fear.
She never displayed impatience about being with him tonight, and she had texted shortly after leaving Carlie’s Creations. Since he knew how long the drive to her house took, he was sure she sent a message as soon as she got home, as promised. If she planned to meet Muhammad, wouldn’t she have been anxious to get rid of him? Plus, a smart person would wait for Nick’s return text and tell him what time they should meet, not leave him to worry when she didn’t respond.
From his observation, Carlie always took other people’s feelings into consideration. He couldn’t imagine her not answering if she was able. Something happened to her. Even though Nick Kendall, S.A.T.O. agent, shouldn’t care about the safety of his target, as a man, he couldn’t stop thinking about holding her tonight while they danced, being in her company.
Knowing there was a second agent in town somewhere put more worry on Nick’s shoulders—especially if that agent was Stephen Chance. Also, Paul said he had an idea to hurry the investigation along. Who knew what the boss might order to accomplish that? Paul jumped to conclusions just because Carlie suppli
ed food to Muhammad’s charity. In Nick’s eyes, that didn’t make her a terrorist; she could be completely innocent, even if Muhammad was an actual terrorist. He needed proof, one way or the other.
After an eternity, Nick pulled along the curb in front of Carlie’s house. No lights were on in the house and her car wasn’t in the driveway. He shook his head at his own stupidity. He should have followed her tonight, not let her drive off by herself. Mindful of his obligation to call Paul and not wanting Carlie to become suspicious if she saw him follow her, he’d headed home, satisfied with the foundation he started on their ‘relationship.’
Where could she be? In the month he’d been in town, Nick had refrained from breaking into her house, not wanting someone to see him and report back to Carlie, ruining his chances of gaining her trust. Tonight might be the night to take that chance. Especially if she was in trouble and something in the house could help him find her.
Nick stepped out of the car and crossed to the sidewalk, searching for any sign of movement inside the house. Maybe Carlie wasn’t with Muhammad. Perhaps Shelley called with a dating emergency, and she rushed off to help her friend. And maybe that’s just where Nick hoped she was, because he liked her, and didn’t want her to be one of the bad guys.
Nick made his way to the front door and rang the bell. There was no movement inside. Glancing around, all the other houses on the street looked dark. If he picked the lock, maybe no one would notice.
Then again, if she pulled up and discovered him breaking into her house, he’d never earn her trust. And he needed that. If Carlie were involved with a terrorist group, he wanted her to recruit him to the cause; then he could discover the main players.
One more call couldn’t hurt. Maybe she’d answer this time. He touched two on speed dial and waited for the call to connect. From somewhere in the darkness, Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony played. After four rings, Carlie’s voice came on the line, “Sorry I missed you. Leave a message.”
Nick pushed end and then connected to her number a second time, slowly walking down the stairs. The music began again, and he made his way across the grass, spotting Carlie’s pink phone cover. He pocketed his phone before picking hers up.
Ignoring the growing sense of dread causing his fingers to fumble, he examined the phone, relieved to find it wasn’t the kind that required a code to open. He searched the call history, hoping to find a clue as to where she went. The missed calls from him showed up, three calls marked with Shelley’s name, two from Muhammad, and further down, some from Stephen Chance the week before.
He checked her text messages, but either Carlie frequently erased them or she didn’t text much. The conversation with him was the only one in the memory.
Now he had to acknowledge the thought flirting through his mind ever since that classical music started playing. Did someone take Carlie? Was she in trouble?
His biggest worry was that Stephen had her. Whether or not he worked for Paul, that piece of shit would love to get his hands on Carlie. Even more worrisome was if Stephen somehow factored into Paul’s new plan.
Nick hoped she left with Muhammad and just dropped her phone, but he couldn’t stop the trembling of dread within him. Paul was unstable lately. What if his other agent had her? What if the boss didn’t want to wait for proof of her guilt?
Chapter Six
Carlie pulled her car into an empty spot at Stephen’s apartment complex. “Can you make it inside okay?” She pressed her lips together, wishing she hadn’t said that. It seemed like an offer to help, and she didn’t want to go in his place.
“I’m not sure. I’m a little woozy.”
Lovely. She forced a smile. “Is there a neighbor who could help you?”
He pawed at the door, missing the handle. “Don’t worry. I’ll do it myself.”
Carlie wondered if his drunkenness was an act, since he’d seemed sober before they left her house. Then again, she wasn’t heartless enough to let him struggle twenty steps from his doorway. A few more minutes, and she could head home.
She sighed and got out of the car, walked around the back of it, and opened his door. “Let’s get you inside.”
He smiled, and his eyes did seem unfocused. Maybe now that they stopped fighting and he didn’t have to be coherent, Stephen was buzzing again.
He reached for her. Carlie slipped her arm around him, pulling outward as he tumbled from the seat. He leaned heavily into her and Carlie struggled to help him upright.
“What did you drink tonight, anyway?”
“A fifth of vodka.”
She leaned him against the back of the car and shut his door. “I’m not a drinker, but isn’t that a lot?”
“Itsch...It’s fine.” He slapped her face in a drunken attempt to pat her hair. “I’m glad we’re friends, Carlie. I think I love you.”
Sighing, she slung his arm around her shoulders and wrestled him away from the Camry. Why did drunken people always feel a need to profess their love? “Let’s get you inside.”
He shifted his feet slightly and Carlie practically dragged him. The sidewalk from the parking lot to his building seemed impossibly long. Thank goodness he lived on the bottom floor.
He frequently brushed his hand against her chest on the way, and she knew she should have let him stumble along by himself. Her strong urge to help others was not always a good thing.
They finally reached his door, and sweat trickled between Carlie’s shoulder blades despite the cold wind. Stephen wasn’t a light man.
She propped him against the wall. “Give me your keys.”
He lazily slapped the front pocket of his pants. “There here.”
“I’m not going after them.”
He wobbled on his feet, but pulled the keys out and handed them to her. “You’re no fun.”
“Nope. None at all.”
She made her way through each key until finding the one that turned the lock, and then opened the door into the darkened apartment. Behind her, Stephen took a step forward but stumbled into her back, pushing them both through the entry.
“Oops.” He wrapped his arms around her and managed to keep them upright. “Sorry, Carlie. I’m not impressing you tonight, I guess. The liquor hit me harder than I thought.” He let go of her and turned on a light, revealing his cluttered living room. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
“You better head to bed. You’ll hate yourself in the morning.” She hoped he had a pounding headache for his effort. Although she didn’t want him as an enemy, she disliked his attitude toward women in general, and her in particular.
He took a step into the hallway, but tripped and bashed into the wall, sliding to the floor. “Can’t make it that far.”
Carlie was torn between leaving him there and helping him to his room. When did she become babysitter for the drunk and stupid? Then again, it would only take a few more seconds to help him. She pushed the front door shut and leaned over Stephen, starting the laborious job of pulling him to his feet.
The door at the end of the hall led to a bedroom with a king-sized bed inside. She dropped him onto it, but Stephen grabbed at her arms, pulling her down with him.
Quicker than a drunken man should move, he shoved her onto her back and climbed on top of her. “You’re always so good to help people, Carlie. I’ve been trying to get you in this bed for months.” Magically, he no longer slurred his words, and anger welled up inside her.
“Bastard! Get away from me. I thought you needed help.”
He pinned her beneath his weight and laughed. “I do need help, love, and you’re just the woman to give it to me. I trained you for weeks and got one lousy date. You never even gave me a goodnight kiss.”
“Stop it, Stephen. I’m not attracted to you.”
He shrugged negligently. “There are two ways to do this, love. I don’t mind how we get there.”
His lips crashed into hers and he forced his tongue into her mouth.
***
Nick was glad he investigated the
people in Carlie’s life and knew where they all lived. He had to find her, and his first stop was Muhammad Khan’s place. After pulling up at the small, white house, he raced to the front door, pounding on it.
Who cared if the lights were off and it was after 11 at night? Nick clung to a desperate hope that he’d find her in the house plotting terrorist activities—that Paul didn’t have something done to her.
Nick repeatedly slammed his fist against the door. It flung open, revealing an unhappy man.
Muhammad hastily pulled his robe closed over boxer shorts and looked at Nick blearily. “Some people do sleep, you know?”
“You really were sleeping?” Nick’s heart fell. If Carlie wasn’t here, Paul’s other agent must have her. “Damn it!”
Muhammad wrapped the belt around his robe and tied it closed. “You’re Carlie’s new friend, right? What are you doing here?”
Why the hell couldn’t Paul trust him to do his job? If Carlie was guilty, Nick would find the proof so she could be prosecuted. The way her phone was left in the yard, it appeared Paul had her abducted—all while keeping Nick busy in his hotel room.
He ground his teeth together. Knowing what the boss ordered done to a fellow agent, he didn’t want to think about what could be happening to Carlie.
Muhammad shifted in the doorway, drawing Nick’s attention. “Is something wrong with her?”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t get a hold of her.”
He shrugged. “I’ll give her a call, but she’s probably home in bed. We have an early morning.”
“She’s not home.”
Muhammad’s eyes widened. “Is there some sort of trouble?”
Forcing a laugh, Nick gave what he hoped was a sheepish smile. He could very well be talking to the leader of a terrorist organization about one of his star members. He needed to be careful. Paul would kill him if he found out Nick came over here like this. “Carlie’s fine, but we got in a huge fight.” He raised his eyebrows, hoping to share a ‘girls will be girls’ moment with the man.
Muhammad glanced into his house before nodding, and Nick wondered if he had a woman in there. Nick hadn’t done much surveillance on Muhammad yet, but Carlie obviously told the truth about him not being romantically interested in her.
Killer Romances Page 169