by Kylie Brant
Refilling her cup, she sipped, watching the river churn sluggishly by, as evening turned to dusk. If she headed back now she could get a couple hours of work in. Not at the sheriff’s office, but in the office she’d set up in a spare bedroom in the house she’d bought in Tripolo.
Each lead she’d followed about her identity, every fact she’d discovered, was carefully encrypted and kept on her home computer. After six years she had a substantial file with a copy downloaded to CD monthly and sent to a mail drop across the country for safekeeping. So far she had plenty of dead ends, plenty of threads that apparently went nowhere. But she wasn’t giving up. She’d never give up.
There were some who would consider her existence lonely. But she thought she must be used to being alone, because it had never bothered her overmuch in the last half-dozen years. What had seemed strange was the openhearted generosity of Luz, the puppy-dog friendliness of Benny. The fact that Ria had first regarded both of them with suspicion was surely an indictment of who, or what, she’d been.
Catching the waitress’s attention, she summoned her over, ready to leave. Whatever else she’d learned about herself, she wasn’t one to make the same mistake twice. Benny lived halfway across the country and she was excruciatingly careful on the rare occasions she allowed herself to contact him on an untraceable cell phone. She didn’t think she’d be able to bear it if another person died because of her.
“Oh, there’s no bill, ma’am,” the waitress said. “Jake said it’s on the house.”
Jake. She’d like to pretend she’d already forgotten him, but she wasn’t in the habit of lying to herself. He’d hovered in the back of her mind since he’d left, a haunting reminder of a fascinating man she would never see again. Ria opened her purse, took out some bills. “I told him that wasn’t necessary. I’d like to pay for my own meal. Could you please tell me how much it was?”
But the woman was backing away, a faintly alarmed expression on her face. “Oh, no, ma’am, I couldn’t do that. Jake said specifically, and ’round here, we do what he says.”
With a mental shrug, Ria gave up. She folded the bills and handed them to the server. “Then this is for you.”
The woman gave her a shocked look, but whisked them into a pocket in her apron quickly enough. “Thank you, ma’am. Hope you come back real soon.”
But thoughts of returning were far from Ria’s mind as she made her way to the large parking lot outside, keys in her hand. It was full now, much more crowded than it had been when she’d arrived. Walking purposefully toward her car, she heard her cell phone ring and took it from her purse, checking the caller ID. Eldon Croat. With a grimace, she decided against answering it. Tomorrow would be soon enough to meet with the county commissioner and try to talk him out of the press conference he’d want to call about the latest drug busts. Even after all these years, and the attempts she’d taken to change her appearance, she was leery about getting—
He seemed to come out of nowhere, looming from between two cars and taking quick steps toward her. Her hands were full, slowing her response, and before she could react he was behind her, grabbing her nape and smashing her face into the roof of her car.
It was telling in that instant, with stars bursting behind her eyes, that her first thought was of the assassins. And that they’d finally caught up with her.
Chapter 2
Jake Tarrance cruised into the lot and pulled into his private parking spot. Not even to himself was he willing to admit he’d hurried through the problem-solving meeting this evening. It was doubtful the copper-haired woman with the incredible eyes was still at Hoochees, even more doubtful that she’d changed her mind about keeping him company. Still, the memory of taut curves and a tight body had him dispatching his troublesome supplier, Roy Hastings, more quickly than usual. Tonight’s solution had been temporary, at best. Hastings was getting to be too much a liability. And Jake had no conscience about dispensing with liabilities.
There were some who would swear he had no conscience at all. More and more frequently these days, he was inclined to agree.
Lights were visible from the security booth installed in the center of the lot, but he didn’t see anyone inside. He got out of the car with his hand on the gun nestled at the base of his back. Security might be making rounds, but for a man with a price on his head, caution was a way of life.
After taking a couple of steps, he paused, hearing sounds of a struggle. He withdrew the gun and thumbed off the safety, running in that direction.
He didn’t have to go far before he saw the fight going on. He reholstered the gun and reached for his cell phone to alert the still-absent security. But in the next second Jake realized the struggle involved a man and woman, and something inside him went glacial. The phone remained in his pocket. He’d deal with the matter himself.
Racing forward, he became aware of two things simultaneously. One was that the guy was definitely getting the worst end of the battle; the second was that the female beating the hell out of him was none other than the intriguing woman he’d shared a drink with.
The other man rushed at her, his head lowered. She kicked out, catching him in the jaw with enough force to snap his head back. The blow made him stagger, and he stumbled against a nearby car. While he leaned there dazedly, she closed the distance between them, grabbed his shirt to pull him forward and rammed her knee into his groin.
Jake’s brows rose in approval. He didn’t recall ever seeing a woman less in need of rescuing. Folding his arms across his chest, he watched as the man gave a strangled moan, then in slow motion crumpled to the asphalt.
“That ought to take care of his social life for a few days, anyway.”
The woman wheeled around, probably still nerved up with adrenaline. But Jake’s amusement fled the moment he caught sight of her face. The blood covering it was still flowing freely, and staining what remained of her yellow blouse. The buttons had been torn off, to leave it hanging loose, revealing the nude, lace-edged bra beneath. The ice abruptly re-formed in his veins.
Jake took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her. When she didn’t move to take it, he pressed it into her hands. “Are you hurt as badly as you look?”
She gave him a slight frown, bent to catch a glimpse of herself in a car’s side mirror. “Great,” she muttered, wadding up his handkerchief and pressing it against her nose. Sending a sidelong glare at the man still clutching himself on the ground, she said, “I ought to hammer him again.”
Something inside Jake eased slightly at her tone. It was disgruntled, but she didn’t sound as though she was badly injured. “I think at this point that would be redundant, don’t you?” He stepped closer, caught her chin in his hand, turned her face one way, then the other, surveying it critically. “Your nose doesn’t look broken. How does it feel?”
“Like it got slammed into a car.”
When she pulled away from his touch, he let her go. She set down the handkerchief for a moment to tie the front of her shirt together. Taking the cell phone out of his pocket, he pressed a button on his speed dial. Without taking his eyes off her he spoke into it. “Cort, get someone to take over the bar and come out to the parking lot. Bring Finn and Dobbs with you. And find out where the security guard went who was supposed to be on duty out here.”
She looked past him to the still empty security booth. “There was no one in it when I left the restaurant. Either this creep has lucky timing or your security isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Either way, someone has a lot to answer for.” Jake looked at the man on the ground, who was struggling to his feet, then back to the woman. “Feel like telling me what happened out here?”
“It’s not what it looked like, I swear.”
The man’s voice was familiar. Jake peered closer, recognized him as an occasional patron of the restaurant. Taylor something. No, Tyler. That was it. “And what do you think it looks like?”
“She was coming on to me. You know how it is, right?” The man ga
ve him a sickly grin, talking so fast his words practically fell over themselves. “But when I met her out here like she asked, damned if she didn’t start talking price. Well, I’m not a guy who pays for it, you know? So things got kind of heated—”
“Stop,” Jake advised softly. He knew where the razor-edged fury he felt sprang from. There was a time when it had dictated his every thought, his every action. Surprising that ten years hadn’t really dulled it in the least. Surprising, and for this man, unfortunate.
“Uhh…Mr. Tarrance.”
Jake looked at the security guard, who had run up, his expression worried.
“Is there a problem?” The man asked. “I just stepped inside for a minute. I was feeling kinda sick. But I wasn’t gone longer than that, I swear.”
“You’re done here. Cort?” He addressed the other man that had appeared silently, already looming over the guard. “Be sure and escort our former employee off the premises.”
The guard took a sideways look at the bartender and inched away. “I swear, Mr. Tarrance, I think I got the flu or something. I never woulda left otherwise…”
“Really? Then you won’t mind if we go through your pockets.”
With a nod from Jake, the bartender quickly searched the man’s pants pockets, pulling out a folded fifty that looked a hell of a lot like a bribe.
Jake gave Cort a pointed glance. “I think you ought to drive him home. Have a little talk.”
The security guard was still protesting when the bartender took his elbow and led him, almost gently, away.
“Tyler, right?” Jake addressed the man still leaning heavily against a car, dusting off his pants.
His eyes darted nervously as Finn and Dobbs moved silently to flank him. “That’s right. Tyler Stodgill. Sorry about all this, but that’s the thing about women, huh?” He swallowed hard. “Nothing but trouble.”
He seemed to flinch in the face of Jake’s answering smile. “You might want to avoid this kind of trouble in the future. It doesn’t seem healthy. My men will take you to the hospital, get you checked out. Don’t worry. They’ll make sure your car gets there, too.”
For the first time real fear showed in the man’s expression, and he shook his head vigorously. “Hey, that’s not necessary. I’m okay. Really.”
“I insist. Insurance problems, you know.” Jake gave a what-can-you-do shrug. “You could be suffering from internal injuries. Those can be tricky.” He made a slight gesture and the two men closed in on Stodgill, his protests trailing behind him as they led him away.
The woman shot him a knowing look. “I have the distinct impression that although he doesn’t need a doctor now, he will when he arrives at the hospital.”
“Really?” Jake frowned, considering her words. “I could see how a person might think that, if he had a suspicious mind. And if he didn’t know what a kind-hearted philanthropist I am.”
The handkerchief she was dabbing gingerly at her nose muffled the snort she gave. He reached for her wrist, tugged it away from her face so he could survey the damage. “The bleeding has stopped. C’mon. I’ll take you somewhere you can clean up.”
“That’s not…” He heard a slight sound that might have been her teeth grinding as he cupped her elbow and herded her back toward the restaurant. “You’re pushy, you know that?”
“It’s been mentioned.” Inside the front doors, instead of entering the restaurant he took out his keys and used one to open the discreet private elevator on one wall. “But even given the fate suffered by your last admirer, I’m going risk it. You need some ice for that nose. And if I think it’s broken, you’re going to see a doctor, too.” He ushered her into the elevator and punched in a code. The doors slid closed silently.
“It’s not broken.”
He had a feeling that her words were laced with more determination than certainty, as if she could will them to be true. The woman had a spine of steel. His mouth quirked. And the self-defense moves of a ninja.
“We never got around to exchanging names.” He watched the wariness flicker across her face before she deliberately blanked it. “Mine’s Jake Tarrance.”
“Ria.”
He waited, but it was apparent that was all she was going to offer. With a mental shrug, he waited for the doors to slide open again, then put his hand to the base of her back to nudge her forward.
She went, crossing the large open room to the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that comprised the west wall. “Nice view.” She looked back at him. “Reflective glass?”
He stilled, shot her a look.
“No window treatments.” She waved a hand. “Either you’re an exhibitionist or the place was designed so you could enjoy the view while maintaining your privacy.”
“I do like my privacy.” He went to the kitchen and placed some crushed ice in a dish towel, then folded it into a makeshift ice pack. Returning, he passed it to her, taking the handkerchief from her hand. “For the swelling.” She pressed it to her face while he studied her. “So he jumped you on your way to your car?”
“I heard him behind me, but he was closer than I thought. Got in one good crack before I turned around.” Somehow Jake knew that fact would rankle her for a while. “At dinner he had difficulty understanding I wasn’t interested. Must have thought I’d find him more appealing in the dark.”
Jake’s fist closed, tightened. Ghosts from the past drifted through his memory, carrying with them the sound of distant screams. But Ria wouldn’t be the type of woman to cower in a corner while the blows rained down, heavy and punishing. Wouldn’t be the kind to make excuses for the man later, smiling through the bruises, with a look in her eyes that was half despair, half hope.
Consciously, he unclenched his fingers. Whatever else this woman was, she was no one’s victim. “Guess he found out otherwise.”
“You think?” A small satisfied smile settled on her lips, and lust punched through him, just as swift, just as savage as the first time he’d seen her in the restaurant. He knew almost nothing about the woman, but he knew he wanted her, all of her. He wanted to wipe that look of cool competence from her face, to shatter that wariness and have her attention focused only on him as he moved over her, inside her.
The strength of that vicious longing was unexpected enough to have all his well-constructed defenses slam into place. He wasn’t a man driven by impulse. Emotion-laden decisions led to vulnerabilities, and he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable. He’d done very well without feeling much of anything at all for the last decade, and hadn’t been overly bothered by the void.
It also seemed a shame to develop an attachment for someone who might have to be killed later.
She could have been sent by Alvarez. It wouldn’t be the first time an attractive woman had been used to try and set him up. If so, the man had deviated from type this time. Ria was far subtler, both in looks and in manner. She hadn’t tried to gain his attention at the restaurant, although the scene outside it could have been a pretense.
Jake considered the thought as she rose and crossed the room to look at a collection of black-and-white photographs on the far wall. Alvarez knew him a bit better than Jake would have liked, and may have staged the scene, guessing how he’d react. But if that was the case, Jake doubted very much that the woman selected would end up beating the hell out of the guy.
The corner of his mouth lifted. No, whoever this woman was, he was willing to bet she hadn’t faked anything this evening. Not the spark of awareness that she’d almost successfully hidden. Not the instinctive guardedness that she made no effort to hide.
In any case, this place was swept for bugs daily. The code to the elevator was on a triple circuit pattern that changed upon each use. And Alvarez wouldn’t send anyone with lethal intent. He wanted Jake’s death to come from his own hand.
Some might consider Jake’s swift mental assessment as paranoid. But in his world, paranoia was a necessary tool for survival.
He joined her at the photographs, glancing at her as
she stared fixedly at them. Most people found the stark images disturbing. They hadn’t been taken to capture beauty, or to celebrate life. But it was impossible to tell her opinion. Her face was expressionless. “You like photography?”
Ria didn’t answer at first. She couldn’t. They were the sort of photos that made her want to look away, the sort that wouldn’t allow her to dismiss them easily. At first glance they would seem disconnected shots. A close-up of a wino shivering in an alley. An old woman leaning out a tenement window. A barely clothed toddler sitting on a ramshackle stoop. A group of teens wearing gang colors and sullen masks.
“I thought at first they were random shots, but I was wrong. The look in the eyes of the subjects is the same. Desolation.” She recognized the expression easily enough. She’d faced it in the mirror more times than she wanted to think about. Noting his stillness, she felt comprehension dawn. “You took these yourself, didn’t you?”
“What makes you think so?”
After a last glance at the photos, she turned back toward the windows. “Because you have a way of looking through people.”
She wouldn’t want that cruelly discerning eye turned on her, she thought with vague discomfort. How many times had she felt like little more than a snapshot herself? A carefully presented picture developed to present the image she wished to display to the world. There might be character hinted at in her unsmiling demeanor, but if one were to examine her life, much as they’d hold up a photo to peer at it more closely, they’d find little more than what existed on that flimsy paper. No substance behind the image.
Because in every way that mattered, Ria really didn’t exist at all.
Walking to the large, well-equipped kitchen, she placed the ice pack in the sink and then turned to find Jake contemplating her from the arched doorway. “I should go.” The thought of her new home lacked appeal, but there was danger here, emotional rather than physical. She recognized the fact even as she wondered where that realization stemmed from.