A Perfect Storm

by Lori Foster

  When they both looked at her, the blonde shocked, Spencer resigned, Arizona smiled.

  “I mean, is this going somewhere? Should I skedaddle and leave you to it? Or should I just wait outside for a few?”

  The blonde opened her mouth twice but said nothing. Her lips were now wet, her face flushed.

  Spencer, appearing unaffected by it all, didn’t say anything. He just watched Arizona.

  When the blonde noticed that, she shoved out of Spencer’s hold. “You bastard!” She turned and marched away.

  “Hey, he doesn’t make promises,” Arizona called after her. “You should’ve remembered that!” Since Blondie didn’t head for a car but instead crossed the lawn, Arizona assumed her to be a neighbor. How handy was that? He had “hanky-panky” living right next door.

  Giving her a dirty look, Spencer pointed at her. “Stay.” And with that, he went after the woman.

  Like…maybe she mattered to him? Who was she?

  Snuffing the hurt she felt, Arizona said, “Woof,” so Spencer would know what she thought of his order, then she strode to the door to watch the theatrics.

  Relationships confounded her; she’d never seen the appeal of having someone around, underfoot. The invasion to your privacy. The expectations. Obligations.

  Sex.

  No, she wanted no part of it.

  And yet it infuriated her to see Spencer contain the woman by holding her oh-so-gently, and to see Blondie soften as he explained.

  What did he tell her?

  For certain, Spencer wouldn’t admit that she’d watched him sleeping, that he’d gotten up and paraded around buck naked in front of her.

  He wouldn’t admit that they were both vigilantes, and that their only connection was a drive to bring the bad guys to justice.

  But he talked about something, and when the woman looked toward Arizona with understanding and sympathy, her temper snapped.

  What the hell?

  Did that bimbo pity her?

  Storming away, Arizona headed back to the kitchen. Along the way she threw a few shadow punches and kicks, then drew a slow deep breath. She’d already reconnoitered Spencer’s house, so she knew she could slip out the back door and not have to see him again.

  But she wouldn’t. She’d be damned before she let him make her flee. She didn’t run from anyone. Not anymore. Never again.

  Hoping to hide her awful mix of emotions, she went about cleaning up the mess on the floor.

  Making herself at home, she located Spencer’s garbage can and unearthed a roll of paper towels. She was almost done when Spencer came in several minutes later.

  The second she saw him, she tossed away the last paper towel and regained her feet. “You do her in the driveway?”

  Appearing cautious, he said, “What?”

  Holding one hand in a circle and extending the first finger of her other hand, Arizona created a crude simulation of sex.

  His expression tightened. “That’s enough.”

  “Is it?” She leaned on the counter. “You were gone long enough.”

  “Five minutes? I don’t think so.”

  That stymied her for a moment, but what did she know of his sexual habits? Maybe he struggled. Maybe it took him longer. “Whatever you say.”

  He drew out a chair. “Jealous much?”

  “No!”

  “Then what do you care?”

  Her molars clenched. “I don’t.” But her heart started thumping in a very strange way.

  “You refused to kiss me,” he reminded her.

  Oh, surely he didn’t think… “Damn right I refused!”

  “Then it doesn’t matter if I kiss her, does it?”

  Her hand twitched with the need to zing the remaining coffee cup at his handsome face, but that would never do. It’d give away too much—and leave her with another mess to clean up.

  Besides, he now blocked the exit from the kitchen to the front door, and she wasn’t reckless enough to infuriate him when getting out the back would hinder her escape and make it possible for him to catch her—

  “I will not hurt you, damn it!”

  She almost jumped out of her skin with that deep, loud shout. But he looked more offended than threatening, alleviating her concern. “Sheesh. Stop my heart, why don’t you?” At least his outburst had brought her back around, helping her to shake off those odd sensations of worry and…hurt.

  He literally fumed. “You’re standing there configuring escape routes.”

  “No way.” How could he know that?

  “I saw it in your eyes, Arizona. You have an expressive face.”

  “Seriously?” And here she’d thought just the opposite. Many, many times she’d hidden her emotions from others. Her sadness. Her fear. Her yearning. No one else had so easily picked up on her thoughts.

  “Very expressive.” He drew a deep breath, ran both hands through his hair. “But there’s no need. Marla’s a friend, that’s all.”

  “A friend that you fuck?”

  His teeth sawed together. “Occasionally. By mutual agreement.”

  Ah, God, why did that hurt so much? It shouldn’t. It had nothing to do with her. “I interrupted a little nookie time for you, didn’t I?” The sarcasm came through loud and clear. She shook her head in pity. “I am soooo sorry.”

  “No, you’re not, so don’t lie about it.”

  No, she wasn’t sorry. Just the opposite, she was glad she’d kept him from boinking the blonde. “Marla, huh? She was sort of…full-figured, wasn’t she?”

  “She’s got a lot of curves. So what?”

  “You’re a chubby chaser?”

  He rubbed his face in exasperation. “Most men like a woman with some meat on her bones.”

  Unable to stop herself, Arizona glanced down at her trim limbs. No one would call her chubby. She had her own curves, but if he preferred—

  “Stop it, Arizona.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Comparing.” His gaze went all over her, fast but thorough. He glanced away as he said, “You’re incredibly sexy.”

  “Incredibly?” Okay, so she knew that men found her appealing. Usually it creeped her out.

  Now…not so much.

  “There are a lot of different body types, but most women are beautiful in their own way.”

  “Wow.” Could he really believe that nonsense? “That sounded almost poetic.”

  “You know men find you attractive.”

  “I know they see…me.” Her throat tightened, especially with the speculative way Spencer watched her. She flagged a hand and tried to sound negligent. “They look at me and they know things. That’s all.”

  “What things?”

  “Who I am, what I’ve done.”

  “No.” His gaze darkened, softened. “They look at you and see an extremely exotic, beautiful woman. That’s all.”

  If he wanted to believe that, fine. She knew the truth: her ugly past clung to her like a wet shirt.

  He dropped into the seat. “Let’s get back to the bet, okay?”

  She’d rather not. “What did you tell her about me?” It still rankled, seeing the way that woman had looked at her, all long-faced and sad-sacked.

  Spencer sighed. “Does it really matter?”

  “To me, yeah.” She nudged her chin at him. “C’mon. Fess up. What’d you say?”

  He worked his jaw. “I told her you were a one-night stand who didn’t understand the concept.”

  Un-freaking-believable. “She bought that?”

  “That you and I would have sex?” With a sardonic glare, he said, “Yeah, she bought it.”

  “No, I mean that I would track you d
own here and act all stalkerish and clingy and shit?”

  His expression didn’t change. “She bought it.”

  “Huh. That makes me sound really…dysfunctional. And maybe dangerous.” She thought about it and grinned. “Not bad. I can live with that.”

  He rolled his eyes. “The bet?”

  It wouldn’t hurt to clean up her language. She’d always meant to anyway, but when she got annoyed, stuff just came out of her mouth. “I dunno. What do I get when I win?”

  “What do you want?”

  Perfect opening. Refusing to admit, even to herself, how much his answer mattered, she said, “Your help with checking out the bar and grill and, if necessary, righting things there.”

  His gaze searched hers for only a moment before he nodded agreement.

  No way. That was too easy. “Seriously?”

  He sat back in the seat and crossed his arms. “I’d have done that anyway. So yeah, why not?”

  “You…” She closed her mouth and frowned. He’d planned to assist her all along? “You’ll help me? For real?”

  “I can’t control you, so I know you’re going to do it either way.” Gently, he tacked on, “Did you really think I’d let you get involved on your own?”

  Did he really think he’d have any say-so in that? Not likely.

  Two emotions pulled at her: resentment that he wanted to control her, because no way in hell would she ever let that happen again, and a twinge of…maybe relief.

  Because he seemed to care what happened to her.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. She worked best unhindered by emotion. It was tough enough worrying about Jackson, but she owed him big-time, so of course she wanted him safe. The last thing she needed was to start fretting about Spencer, too.

  And thinking of Jackson…

  While she had Spencer in an agreeable mood, why not press for more? Taking the seat opposite him at the table, she thought it through, then ventured cautiously, “Okay. Since that was already a given, maybe…” she drew a deep breath “…you could be my escort to Jackson’s wedding?”

  “Done.” He thrust out his hand.

  Whoa. His fast agreement left her feeling played. But damn it, she didn’t want to go to a wedding. Since she had to go, she didn’t want to go by herself.

  He waited.

  “If I can’t swear,” she warned, “you can’t, either.”

  “No problem.” He kept his hand extended, his expression expectant.

  Uncertainty left her on edge. Oh, she trusted that she could win the stupid bet and all payments would be a moot point, but still… “What kind of kiss are we talking about?”

  Suddenly his annoyance melted away. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Nothing to distress you, I promise.”

  Yeah, well, the way he said that—with so much satisfaction—sort of distressed her more than anything. But Arizona shored up her pride and gripped his hand. “Get your suit ready, Spence, because I know I’ll win the bet.”

  He let her slide on shortening his name—which was something she knew annoyed him. “If you say so.” He retained his hold on her hand. “I would have gone with you to the wedding anyway, so it’s no skin off my nose.”

  Touching him did funny things to her stomach, made her feel unsettled and jumpy and too warm. Pulling her hand free, she pushed from her seat and glared down at him. “If you would have already done both those things, then I’m not really getting anything in the bet!”

  “But you already agreed.” He smiled. “You even shook on it. And somehow, I just know you’re true to your word.”

  Like he really knew jackola about her or her morals? Fat chance. She headed for the coffee carafe and a new mug. “Fine. Whatever. Now, about that bar…”

  “Understand, Arizona. Even if you lose the bet—”

  “I won’t.” She couldn’t. Kisses? No, she couldn’t, wouldn’t let that happen.

  “I’m still going with you to the wedding—”

  “We’ll see.” But she was so relieved to hear it. Going with Spencer would make the formal affair a little more bearable.

  “—and I’m still going to help you with the bar.”

  “Great. Glad to hear it.”

  “But I want you to listen to me, and listen good.”

  Here we go. She poured a fresh cup of coffee and came back to the table. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Since you want my help, I have a few rules.”

  “Like?”

  “Give me the name and address and I’ll scope it out.” He looked stern, even foreboding. “In the meantime, you will not do anything on your own. Don’t go there, don’t even go near there. I don’t want them to know who you are.”

  Arizona laughed. “Sorry, Spence-my-buddy, but it’s too late for that. I’ve been there twice already, and they’ve more than taken notice of me, so…” She shrugged. “I’m balls-deep in this thing, and we gotta go in tomorrow night, because they’re expecting me. Be there or be square.”

  * * *

  THE SECOND SPENCER STEPPED into the family-owned diner, he saw Trace sitting toward the back, drinking a Coke and eating a burger. Innocuous enough, or at least it should have been.

  But no way in hell would anyone not notice Trace Miller. More than any other man he knew, this one exuded extreme capability. He was part of a trio that Spencer had met after tailing Arizona right into the middle of a setup. She’d been in danger, or so he’d thought. There was no way he could have known she had an elite ops group looking out for her. The trio had incredible contacts, far reaching influence and the ability to back up the badass swagger.

  Not that any of them swaggered, really. Well, maybe Jackson, but that had more to do with Jackson as a man than with his expertise at utilizing deadly skill. If Spencer had to guess, he’d say Jackson was born cocky.

  This one, Trace Miller—most likely an alias—was a cool cucumber. GQ looks didn’t conceal his edge. As a bounty hunter, Spencer had learned to size up people quickly in order to gauge the danger in any situation. He’d pegged Trace as a take-charge, protect-the-innocent but get-it-done personality. Suave, wealthy, efficient…and deadly when necessary.

  The trio seemed to trust him—to a degree. He had no illusions about their cautious natures. They’d already dug through his background, unearthed things he’d rather keep private, and probably knew him as well as he knew himself. Not that they said much about it. So far, there’d been no reason.

  Spencer didn’t take the association lightly, and beyond that, he hated to ask for favors. He especially hated to admit he might not be able to handle things on his own. If Arizona wasn’t at risk, he’d do things his way and accept the consequences.

  He wasn’t without his own ability.

  But she was involved. Hell, she was in it up to her pretty little nose, and that changed everything. He knew the trio cared about her, that they’d made her a priority. Having backup, just in case things went sideways, only made sense. He wanted her safe, damn it.

  Feeling a little traitorous, Spencer crossed the restaurant floor. He’d only promised not to tell Jackson, he reminded himself.

  He hadn’t said a thing about Trace.

  When he reached the table, Trace set aside his napkin and glanced up. “There a reason you stood there studying me before coming in?”

  Since he hadn’t been going for stealth, Spencer didn’t mind the direct question. He shook his head and slid into the booth. “Not really. Just wondering about something. I know Jackson renamed Arizona. And I know that Alani’s last name is different from yours, even though you’re siblings. So was she renamed, too?”

  “No.”

  Which meant Miller was an alias.

  Figures. With a nod, because he really didn’t care,
Spencer said, “I have a problem.”

  With a half smile, Trace asked, “Is her name Arizona?”

  Not funny. Or rather, it would be funny if it didn’t involve him. “Bingo.”

  “What’d she do now?” Trace sat back in the booth. “And why aren’t you going to Jackson? She’s like a sister to him.”

  Was she? He knew Jackson felt that way—but Arizona? Sometimes he wondered. They had a very complicated relationship, but Spencer said only, “Arizona made me promise I wouldn’t tell Jackson.”

  “Ah. Didn’t mention keeping it from me or Dare, huh?”

  “No. I guess she didn’t think you two were an option.” Dare was the third element in the team. The day Spencer had met them all, Dare had been on surveillance—meaning crouched on a hillside with high-powered rifles ready to pick off anyone planning an ambush. “I doubt Arizona even realizes we’ve stayed in touch since that cluster-fuck happened.”

  He shrugged. “It went as planned.”

  “She was in the middle of it all.” It still made Spencer furious to think about it. Arizona had used herself to lure in the human traffickers. But she hadn’t realized they were the same people she’d previously escaped—the same people who had once tossed her, bound and abused, over the side of a bridge and into a churning river to kill her.

  If Jackson hadn’t come upon them that night, if he hadn’t been skilled enough and fast enough, Arizona would have drowned.

  Sadly, few would have noticed her passing. Even fewer would have cared.

  Spencer’s guts cramped. So far in her young life, Arizona had been dealt a miserable hand. And still she was so…spirited.

  “Since they wanted her dead, I’d say you were right.” Trace studied him. “You seeing her much?”

  “Not really.” He didn’t want to betray Arizona’s trust, so he couldn’t explain that he’d been trying to avoid her—and forget her—only to find her sitting in his bedroom, watching him sleep. “She stopped by.”

  Trace’s expression didn’t change. “To engage you in one of her stunts?”

  Now he felt defensive on her behalf. “What she doesn’t have in size and strength, she makes up for with brains and bravery.”