Last Man Standing

by Julie Miller

  As if that concession to privacy made it all right! He’d been spying on her, watching her, lying in wait for her to break into Jericho’s office so he could…what? Catch her? Kiss her? Discredit her?

  “You knew I was in there before I turned on the computer. You set me up.”

  “I did.” He tunneled his fingers into her hair again and leaned in closer, creating a pose that could pass as a secret exchange between lovers. But the fall of his dark hair masked the truth from the camera. She read the suspicion in his eyes, felt the warning in the grip at her nape. “I needed to know if you really were a threat, or were just overly curious. I’m still not sure what you’re up to. But it can’t be good for Jericho.”

  “So why not turn me in?”

  His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. “That really is killer perfume you’re wearing.”

  What kind of answer was that? Even if the camera was wired for sound, she’d be the only one to hear the husky compliment. If she could only learn to read a man’s signals in that department. If she only knew which messages to trust. The lustful words or the controlling actions? She dug her fingertips into the coarse grain of the wallpaper and clung to rational thought as his mouth traced the line of her jaw without actually touching her skin. But his heat touched her, shamelessly awakening her senses.

  This was crazy. She was crazy for wanting this criminal to kiss her again. “Mr. Taylor.”

  “We can’t talk here,” he whispered against her neck. “But you do owe me for saving your hide. Meet me in my room at ten o’clock tonight. There are no bugs or cameras there.”

  “I’m not going to bed with you.”

  He pulled back just far enough for her to see the speculative grin that creased his mouth. “You haven’t been asked.” But his eyes danced with possibilities that mocked the heat blooming in her cheeks. “Yet.”

  What the hell was this man up to? It might be worth the peace of mind to give him what he wanted and hope that meant finding answers and getting on with the job she needed to do.

  “Fine.” But Tori was too smart to be caught in a compromising position twice. No way would she give him that kind of advantage over her again—whether his intentions were business or sexual or something even more bizarre. “But on neutral ground. I’ll meet you, but not in your room behind a closed door.”

  He seemed skeptical that she should agree to his request at all. His eyes narrowed with an unmistakable threat. “Don’t play me. You turn on me and you’re done here.”

  The idea of being blackmailed stuck in her craw. But the opportunity to learn more about Cole and the secret job he was doing for Jericho, to explore his connection—if any—to The Divine Horseman, made playing his game a little easier to swallow.

  She curled her fingers into the lapels of his jacket, sending a few mixed signals of her own. “You hold all the cards, Mr. Taylor. My job and my reputation mean a lot to me. I don’t intend to steal anything that belongs to Mr. Meade. I don’t know what that poor man’s afraid of but I don’t intend to hurt him. But since you won’t believe that, I guess I’ll have to meet you.”

  She clutched her hands into fists, drawing him a half-inch closer. Her gaze fell to his lips. So close. So tempting. So off-limits. She tilted her eyes to his. “But under my conditions. We meet in a public place. And you keep your hands to yourself. That’s the deal.”

  The seconds passed like minutes as his eyes locked onto hers and he considered her offer. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until he slowly unwound his fingers from her neck and splayed them on the wall beside her ear.

  “Deal.”

  He still stood just as close. His shoulders were just as broad. His eyes were just as blue.

  You rat. He could concede to her wishes and still make her feel as if he had the upper hand.

  He wasn’t touching her, but she was still holding on to him. Frustrated by her inability to focus on the problem instead of the man, Tori snatched her hands away and ignored his knowing grin.

  “You like moonlit strolls?” he asked.

  “I’m here to do a job, not conduct a romance.”

  The last time she’d tried to combine the two, the results had been disastrous. She’d paid a high price to salvage that mission. And her attraction to Ian Davies hadn’t been anywhere near as volatile or potent as the chemistry that sizzled between her and Cole Taylor.

  “Meet me in the park adjoining the estate, just south of here. On the observation deck at Lake of the Woods.” Cole’s directions were as crisp and businesslike as the atmosphere cooling between them. “The rain should be done by then, leaving everything wet and muddy. Maybe there’ll be a wino or two who hasn’t been chased out of the park yet. Is that unromantic enough for you?”

  Tori glared. “The park is fine.”

  “Be there. Or I’ll come looking for you. And I will find you every time.”

  “Is that another threat?”

  “Don’t make it one. Just show up.”

  He took his sweet time to dip his mouth beside her ear and create the illusion of a kiss for the camera. He never touched her, but she inhaled his bracing scent and shivered at his consuming energy just the same.

  “And don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”

  When he pulled away, her breath rushed out as if she’d been doused with cold water.

  “It’ll be our little secret.”

  She had a feeling it would be one of many.

  Chapter Five

  JDM

  Cole studied the heavy scrawl, remarkably similar to the handwritten notes that used to come across his security desk. I’m having company tonight. Unlock the gate and keep Lana occupied. That company was usually female and Lana was usually pissed. Lana must have a masochistic streak, putting up with Daniel’s philandering throughout their engagement, then moving on to Chad. Maybe she had a high tolerance for cheating men—as long as marrying into a fortune remained a possibility.

  Cole turned over the card Victoria had delivered to him. He could verify that the stationery, at least, was authentic—the same business stock used by father and son alike. He flipped it over and read the generic message again, shaking his head. This was a new twist in an ongoing mystery that refused to make any sense.

  “I’m no expert. But it looks like Daniel’s handwriting.”

  He’d love to get it to the crime lab for analysis because he knew damn well that ghosts didn’t exist and dead men didn’t write notes.

  “Is it possible Daniel Meade’s still alive?” Victoria jogged in place beside him. “Maybe he’s trying to get a message to his father.”

  “Daniel wouldn’t voluntarily walk away from the millions he stood to inherit.” Cole thought back to the severed finger that had been delivered to the house. Daniel wouldn’t voluntarily give that up, either. And the Daniel he’d known was more likely to retaliate with violence when threatened than to play these crazy mind games. “This would be easy enough to forge. Jericho hasn’t thrown away any of his son’s things. There are plenty of writing samples around the estate and downtown offices to copy.”

  “So what’s the point? ‘Welcome and enjoy’ is hardly a threatening message.” Victoria finally planted both feet squarely on the concrete observation deck that overlooked Lake of the Woods. She dabbed her forehead with the sweatband on her wrist and smoothed aside a stray lock of hair that clung to her skin. “Unless you think Jericho wrote it and just forgot?”

  Jericho might be sad and ailing, but Cole didn’t think he was senile. “He hardly writes a word anymore, the arthritis in his hands is so bad. If he did manage to put this many words on paper, it’d be illegible.”

  The idea that someone would forge a message to take advantage of his boss’s grief didn’t sit well with Cole. But it would play in to some of the crazy things Jericho had told him. Things like hearing his son’s voice at night, believing that Daniel was trying to tell his father who his murderer might be.

  “Then I guess I just
have a secret admirer with a twisted sense of humor.”

  Cole didn’t like that idea, either. Damn, he was tired of fighting this battle. Maybe he was making too much of the note. More than ever, he needed to get out of this assignment before it sucked his soul dry. With a sigh that echoed right down to his bones, he tucked the card inside his suit jacket and returned to more pressing business.

  “Any questions about what we discussed?” Cole watched the thin bead of sweat at the hollow of Victoria’s neck catch in the moonlight and spill over to create a glistening path down to the scooped neckline of her fitted running top. From the moment she’d jogged out onto the deck, using the excuse of a late night run to meet him, he’d been unable to keep his eyes off her for more than a few seconds at a time. “I need to know you can handle it.”

  “Having second thoughts about blackmailing me?”

  He was having second thoughts about everything.

  Why the hell she hadn’t driven to meet him on this isolated stretch of road he’d never understand. A woman alone at night was putting herself in unnecessary danger. His own sister, Jessie, had been on her own that night in Chicago when she was abducted. Tortured. Raped.

  Hell.

  Cole squeezed his eyes shut against a fiery rush of impotent anger. He hadn’t been there to protect his sister then. He hadn’t been there to protect her when her kidnapper returned to finish what he’d started, either. He hadn’t even been around to hold her hand or listen to her fears the way he had so many times growing up together.

  But Jessie was okay now. The man was dead. She was moving on with her life, planning a big wedding to the FBI agent who had been there to help her.

  Cole was missing that, too.

  He loosened his tie and unhooked the top two buttons of his shirt. The evening rainstorm had passed, leaving the air sticky rather than refreshed. He took a deep breath anyway, but couldn’t find any calming reprieve. Opening his eyes and turning toward the polished surface of the lake, he sought the cool-headed detachment he needed to make this work.

  “Just answer the question. Do you understand what I’m asking you to do?” He was definitely screwed on this undercover op if he kept paying more attention to details like sweat and moonlight and endless stretches of creamy skin than to whether she’d agree to his plan. Not that she had any choice. But it’d go a long way toward assuaging his guilt if he didn’t have to bully every bit of cooperation from her, and if he knew she’d be more sensible about keeping herself safe.

  “I get it, already.” Victoria’s chest heaved with even breaths while she pressed two fingers to her wrist, checked her watch and measured her heart rate. “Set up a meeting with your cop friend. Deliver a message and bring the response back to you. Be prepared to do it more than once. And remember that no one will be happy if I get caught because I’m surrounded by bad people. Does that cover it?”

  Her version seemed to make light of the danger she’d be facing as his courier, but her facts were straight. “Yeah.” He gripped the deck’s black iron railing in a nonchalant pose but angled his face toward hers, letting his expression convey the depth of his warning. “But make that very bad people. My last courier was killed two weeks ago.”

  She seemed to absorb that piece of information with a little more gravity. Even shadowed by night, her furrowed brow couldn’t mask the sudden darkening of regret in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. Was he a friend of yours?”

  A friend? Cole stared hard into her eyes, trying to gauge the sincerity of her compassion. He’d never even shaken Lee Cameron’s hand. The closest he’d come to paying his respects was reading the obit in the Kansas City Star. But Lee had been a fellow cop and he’d been Cole’s lifeline to the outside world. Both were reasons enough to mourn his passing.

  “Sort of” was as much as he’d admit to caring. “More of a business associate.”

  “Was he killed because he was your courier?”

  Smart question. Cole had thought about that one since the moment he drove away from the clinic. Lee hadn’t been the intended target of that hit. But he wouldn’t have been in the line of fire if he hadn’t been there for Cole—to tell him about the attack on his mother and nephew. And now Cole was putting Victoria in the same line of fire. He really had sunk to the level of the men he was trying to destroy.

  Knowing he couldn’t give an answer that either one of them would like, he said nothing.

  “Forget I asked.” Victoria’s eyes glittered with checked emotion as she tilted them into the moonlight. But her sarcastic tongue was still firmly in place. “And here I thought extortion was just your lame idea of a pickup line.”

  Cole almost laughed at that one. Sharp as a pin popping a balloon, she diffused the tension coiling inside him. But he’d denied himself the luxury of uninhibited responses for so long that he couldn’t quite get the sound out of his throat. “Masquerading as lovers will be our cover to exchange information. An easy excuse for you and me to meet regularly.”

  “And privately. Isn’t it convenient that your bedroom is the only one without a hidden camera.”

  She swung her right leg up onto the railing, then leaned forward, touching her nose to her knee and stretching with the controlled flexibility of a ballet dancer. Plain gray leggings and a functional fanny pack suddenly became as sexy as silk lingerie framing the sleek swell of her hips and butt.

  “How do I know you won’t take advantage of me again?”

  “Take advantage?” Damn. Blindsided by his body’s instant flare of interest in the flex of her derriere, Cole’s temper shot through what was left of his cool reserve. For a lying thief, Ms. Can’t-Touch-This sure had a mighty self-righteous opinion about getting it on with the hired help. “Your short-term memory must be on the fritz. I wasn’t the only one who forgot that kiss wasn’t supposed to be the real thing.”

  The seamless flow of athletic grace hitched with an awkward jerk, and her right foot plopped to the ground. He’d struck a nerve. Her fingers twitched, snaking and curling in a dexterous display before clamping into fists she planted on either hip. Cole crossed his arms and faced off against whatever excuse she was going to throw at him now.

  “Flatter yourself all you want, Taylor. You didn’t leave me any choice when you staged that seduction. I could either play along or lose my job, which I am not going to allow to happen. You’ve blackmailed me into a business partnership. I just want assurances that that’s as far as it’s going to go between us.”

  “You call that playing along?” Cole breathed in deeply, feeling the sting of her accusation in every guilt-riddled bone in his body. He’d never forced himself on a woman in his life. Hell, he’d never spied on one in her bedroom without an invitation. Until tonight. With the clock ticking and danger closing in all around him, he’d cast aside the last of his values.

  The similarities to an unknown man going after his sister haunted him.

  Maybe he needed a few assurances of his own.

  He studied the defiance in her expression. And caught a glimpse of that something not quite so tough she couldn’t completely hide. That was the part that got to him. The part that had whispered a desperate “Stop.” The part that fed his regret and made him wish they were just a man and a woman who had the time and the chance to get to know each other, instead of a cop and a crook who’d been forced into an alliance.

  For one risky moment, he thought like the man. With a single finger, he reached out and caught a loose strand of copper hair, grazing the smooth angle of her cheek as he lifted it off her face. “I’m sorry if I scared you in Jericho’s office. Acting before asking, I mean. But can you honestly tell me you don’t like at least some of what’s going on between us?”

  He had the fiery silk tucked behind the shell of her ear before she flinched away.

  “I don’t scare easily, Mr. Taylor.” Back to business. She turned, braced her left leg on the railing and resumed her stretching. “So we share a few public kisses, then meet privately to
promote the idea that we’re having an affair.”

  Cole almost smiled with relief that she hadn’t ended the contact sooner. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the attraction between them was mutual. His conscience eased a fraction. This was more about pride or bad timing than about fear or revulsion. She hated being at any kind of disadvantage. He could relate to that.

  Leaning his hip against the railing, Cole sat back and watched her fill the night air around them with her amazing energy. For both their sakes, he focused on business, too.

  “The private part is key,” he cautioned. “No one else can know about this. You won’t have regular contact with anyone in the house but me, except at breakfast and dinner, and you’ll be gone in a week. That’s why you’re perfect for the job.”

  “Lucky me.” She stood on both feet again but never really stopped moving. Now she was rolling the kinks out of her neck. No wonder she was built like a streamlined sports car. There was always some part of her that seemed to be in motion.

  “As a guest, you have more freedom to come and go from the estate than I do. Obviously, I can’t be seen hanging out with a cop. But it wouldn’t raise suspicion if you were to meet with him.” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. He hoped he still had at least one old friend out there he could count on. “Once you’re away from the house, call this number and ask for A. J. Rodriguez.”

  “Rodriguez,” she repeated, tucking the paper inside her fanny pack. “Am I supposed to know him?”

  “He’ll know me. Give him my name and he’ll talk to you. I’ll give you the specific message tomorrow. We’ll see where we go from there.”

  She adjusted the pack around her waist. “Lana mentioned an information leak. Does she know it’s you?”

  Did Victoria pick up on every detail in a conversation? That kind of awareness was a trait Cole admired. It was also a trait to be wary of.

  “What makes you think I’m an informer?”

  “Don’t insult my intelligence. Get a secret message to the cops? Maybe Lana wants you so bad, she can’t see it. But you’re playing both sides. Trading information for a lot of cash, judging by that restored ’65 Mustang you’re driving and the Gucci suit you’re wearing. Everyone at the house talks like you’re the man. Chad’s jealous of you. Jericho thinks you’re gonna save the day.”