Dangerous Moves

by Karen Rock

  “Read it.” She licked dry lips. “On Dad’s external hard drive.”

  There was a second of silence, while everyone let the weight of her words settle around them. Then Coach Lewis spit out his toothpick. “We searched the entire house, boss, and Bryan went through Dallas Heat’s office. It wasn’t there.”

  Bryan nodded, over and over, turning himself into a bobblehead. “It wasn’t anywhere.”

  “If you hadn’t screwed up the kidnapping, you could have gotten it out of her,” her uncle snarled, his features contorted. He paused, dragged in a long breath and turned back to her, composed once more. Uncle, not criminal.

  “Where’s the drive, sweetheart?” He stepped closer, and she smelled cognac on his breath. “Those records are very important to us.”

  “I bet, since my dad must have changed the password to the offshore account,” she guessed, taking a shot in the dark. It was the only logical reason why her uncle needed the hard drive’s information. “You can’t disappear to Bora Bora, or wherever you’re headed, without those millions, right?”

  “You taking a trip, boss?” Coach Lewis demanded. “You didn’t say anything.”

  “Of course not, I wouldn’t—” her uncle sputtered.

  “His wife’s packing as we speak. I just talked to her on the way here.” Her gaze swept around the barn, seeking something to defend herself with once she freed her hands.

  Coach Lewis, Bryan and the other football players’ heads swiveled, eyebrows raised. They swapped wide-eyed stares. She slid her right hand up an inch.

  “Lies.” Uncle Tom waved his hand. “But I would like that password.”

  Her thumb popped free. “Too bad killing me means you’ll never get it…and what was the last total? Four million seventy-three thousand, I believe,” she said coolly, like she didn’t have a care in the world. “Give or take,” she added, then liberated her index finger.

  “I’ll get it out of her,” growled Captain Bates, advancing. He pressed the tip of the hunting knife against her throat. A stinging pain tore over her skin as he scraped it across her windpipe. She jerked her head away, and he gave her a small, intimate smile.

  What I’ll do to you, she practically heard him think.

  Before her uncle responded, the door banged open and in strode a tall, powerful man.

  Blake!

  How had he found her?

  He stared at her with intense, probing eyes. With a final jerk, she wriggled her hand free, ready to fling herself at him the way her banging heart struggled to do.

  “Move and she’s dead!” snapped Captain Bates, pressing the knife hard enough to make her wince. Something warm dripped to her collarbone. Blake shot him a look so lethal, Reese wondered how the rogue cop didn’t drop dead on the spot. His eyes promised murder and held little doubt he’d achieve it.

  “Cool your jets,” drawled a woman. “I’ve got him under control.” Aunt Marisol appeared from behind the larger man, and prodded Blake forward with a shotgun. “When Reese called and mentioned coming here, I hopped in the car to warn you. Caught this one skulking around.”

  “You’re involved in this, too?” Reese gasped. Unbelievable. Everyone in her family. She’d been more than blind.

  Aunt Marisol rolled her eyes. “Yes. Who do you think shot your father? He was about to ruin everything, the idiot.”

  A square punch to the stomach couldn’t have knocked the air out of her faster. The world turned a scorching red.

  Aunt Marisol would pay…

  “What are we waiting for?” Aunt Marisol demanded, twirling, her flowered sundress flowing around her ankles. “Let’s kill these two and get the hell out of here.”

  “Too late,” Blake drawled. Something about his supremely relaxed posture seemed even more menacing. He was steely eyed Officer Knight now, in command and in charge. Reese discovered she liked him—loved him—every bit as much as her sexy, abandoned lover…maybe even more. “My back-up’s on the way.”

  Bryan’s eyes nearly bugged from his head, and the football players muttered among themselves.

  “You’re bluffing,” Uncle Tom insisted.

  “Want to bet forty years to life on that?” Blake replied, arching a brow, oozing confidence, conviction. He continued staring down Captain Bates and sparks practically flew from his eyes. Hellfire.

  Without warning, Coach Lewis bolted for the door. A stampede of football players followed. In the melee, Blake launched himself at Bates, tackling him to the ground.

  Hands free, Reese grabbed the butt of Aunt Marisol’s shotgun and pointed it to the roof, just in time. It discharged with a deafening roar. She wrenched the weapon free and trained it on her aunt. “On your knees, or I’ll shoot.”

  Blake pounded Captain Bates, smashing his face left then right, followed by an uppercut that flooded Bates’s mouth with blood. The detective curled his arms over his face, trying to protect himself from the relentless assault. With a final blow, Blake kicked Captain Bates in the back.

  “On your feet. Now,” he growled. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you right here.”

  “Reese, honey,” pleaded her uncle. “You wouldn’t hurt your aunt. She’s family. Blood is thicker than water.”

  A bitter laugh escaped her. For so long she’d clung to the idea that her family automatically deserved her loyalty. No more. Fidelity was earned, not freely given.

  She glanced at Blake and their eyes collided. “Blood has nothing to do with it. Real families are the people we choose, and the ones who choose us back.”

  Blake’s blue eyes blazed into hers as sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder.

  And I choose you, she thought, wishing she could tell him right now, this very minute.

  “How’d you find me?” she asked, then angled her head to order Tom to kneel alongside Marisol. “I thought you were interrogating Dad?”

  “I decided to wait…and the tracking device I placed on your phone led me here.”

  “You mean the one you never told me about?” Her brows lifted.

  “That’d be the one,” he affirmed, eyes glimmering, wickedly delighted with his overbearing, Neanderthal self.

  She couldn’t find it in her to be angry. He cared enough to keep track of her, to always be there for her, and prioritize her ahead of everything else, including interrogating her father and his promotion.

  From now on, she’d always put Blake first, too. He’d have a lot of work ahead of him processing the evidence and suspects, but when he finished, she’d speak her heart to this incredible man…

  For now, it would just have to wait.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Tea, Dad?” Reese pulled the lid off a Styrofoam cup, releasing a white curl of tangy, lemon herbal–scented steam to mingle with the ever-present smell of bleach and antiseptic. Late afternoon sunshine slanted through the window’s opened blinds and streamed across the freshly mopped hospital room.

  Outside, the sounds of honking cars and revving engines drowned out the calming melody of the birds. Rush hour had begun, and with it came a change in shifts, new nurses checking in and taking vitals, interrupting these precious quiet moments she had with her father.

  Her eyes drifted to the window, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Blake was still at work. It’d been two days since she’d seen or heard from him, save for a brief text with an incomprehensible string of emojis that’d ended, encouragingly, with an eggplant.

  And a heart.

  The heart she got, the eggplant…that one still had her scratching her head.

  Did it mean he wanted to have sex, loved having sex, loved her or really, really wanted to start eating more veggies?

  “I’m good, thanks.” Reese’s father placed the half-eaten rice pudding cup on the adjustable tray and dropped his head on the pillow.

  Skin pink, eyes clear, her fa
ther was starting to resemble his old self again. He’d slept most of yesterday, but today, he’d managed to stay awake. Was he strong enough for a real talk? Every time he’d brought up the key, she told him not to worry, reassured him she’d taken care of everything and would fill him in later.

  “Come here, darlin’.” Her father scooched to the side of his bed and patted the space beside him.

  Reese perched on the edge. The sheet rode up to reveal an uncomfortable, vinyl-covered mattress. Would the beds in jail be any better? Did they even have sheets in jail, or would her aging father be forced to sleep on a bare mattress perched atop a concrete block? She flattened out the frown forming on her lips. Dad needed her strength, not her fears. “You’re looking better.”

  He waved a hand, as if batting away the compliment. “I’m in a lot of trouble, honey.”

  “I know.”

  He dropped his chin to his chest, turned his face, and spoke to the IV machine. “You opened the bank box.” Through the blanket, she spied the outline of his clenched hands.

  “Yes.” He didn’t seem to breathe as she filled him in on what’d happened at the ranchette.

  “You could have died,” he exclaimed after a long beat of silence, interrupted only by the electronic tick of his heart. “And I wasn’t there to protect you from that bastard Bates.”

  “Don’t think about that.”

  Lord knows she’d been trying not to, especially at night, while she’d tossed and turned in bed—alone—missing Blake’s reassuring strength.

  Her father heaved back over to face her, tears spiking his eyelashes. “It’s all I ever thought about. Why I wanted you gone from Dallas and didn’t press charges for the attempted rape. I knew no one would believe us against the word of a decorated officer. That there’d be repercussions, threats, harassment. It’s why I didn’t encourage you to come back.”

  “You—you weren’t just protecting the business?” Her breath hitched, euphoria carbonating her bloodstream, making her giddy. Buoyant. “The club and the drugs?”

  He lifted a trembling hand, and she caught it in her own. “No. I was trying to protect you. I cared about you, darlin’, just not how I should have. After your mother died, it seemed like the whole world died with her, including me. I pulled away from everyone. From you.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but he shook his head and continued. “You’re the spitting image of her.” A smile stayed on his lips for just a nanosecond, then fell away, as if he was lost in a memory only he held. “It hurt just to look at you. Not that it’s any kind of excuse. I was selfish. Caught up in my own pain when I should have considered yours. Instead I threw myself into providing for you…making sure we kept the house so you wouldn’t lose that too, or your school or friends if we’d had to move.”

  “I never cared about those things. I only wanted you.” Reese kicked off her sandals and stretched out beside her father. Turning, she settled her cheek against his shoulder and his arm came around her, snug. Her heart thrummed a lilting, joyous beat. At last, reconciliation. A chance to speak her mind and heart, to hear her father’s thoughts and feelings too. Every word they spoke landed between them like bricks, paving the way back to each other, a bridge they’d build stronger this time, one that’d last forever.

  “You needed me, and I let you down,” he continued, shaking off his tears. “For that—and lots else—I’m sorry, honey. I was a terrible father, and you deserved more. I didn’t object to you leaving Dallas because I knew you’d be better off without me.”

  His heart monitor beeped faster, louder, and she pressed a hand to his chest. Doctor Bolton had ruled out chronic arrhythmia, but Reese still worried—would always worry—about her dad.

  “I was miserable without you. Maybe that’s why I liked touring. I never had to commit to any one place because nowhere measured up to Dallas. No other place felt like home.”

  “Are you going back to New York?”

  She thought of Blake, of the promises he’d made to her, of how safe and secure and free she felt around him and how he, too, felt like home, now. “I’m going to take over the club and stay close. I want to be able to visit you in—”

  “Jail,” her father said, supplying the word when she faltered. “Now, don’t fret over it. A man’s got to be accountable. I shouldn’t have laundered for the ring.”

  “You owed the casino money.”

  He angled his head and studied her, forehead scrunched into deep lines. “What money?”

  “Uncle Tom said you owe them two hundred thousand in markers.”

  A snort escaped her father. “Hardly. Was the other way around. Tom got in deep with Aces Up and didn’t want it coming to light when he was running for city council. He asked if I could help, and I couldn’t turn down my brother, especially since he gave you the cash you needed to leave Dallas. I owed him for that.”

  “You weren’t dealing drugs before then?”

  “I’ve never dealt drugs.” His aggrieved tone sounded so authentic she almost laughed out loud in relief.

  “That’s what you meant when you said, ‘It’s not what you think’?” she asked, and her father nodded. “Dixon was selling steroids at the club.”

  At her confession, her father’s eyes blazed. “Tom said they sold the steroids at the gym he financed with our LLC. What dancers were buying? I want them all fired.”

  “Mostly the athletes.”

  “Figures. Your uncle asked me to take them on. He paid their salaries.”

  “Why’d you turn against the ring?”

  “A detective threatened to shut me down. Plus, I wanted the police department to find out the truth, especially about Bates. I was tired of living the double life. When I tried to get Marisol to talk about the ring, she got suspicious. We were driving to the ranchette to check on an alarm. When she discovered the recording device, she shot me.”

  Reese shuddered. “You put your life in danger knowing you’d be going to jail?”

  “My life felt pretty much over anyway. I’d lost your mother. Lost you. You could never come home with Captain Bates still in the picture, so I figured it was time I did something right for a change.”

  She shook her head, marveling. He did more good than bad, and was still the same protective father she remembered as a child.

  “Oh, Dad. You did a lot of right. You just got turned around for a while, but you’ll always be my Sir Dance-A-Lot.” She kissed his salty tears.

  “Not sure if I can bust any moves these days, Lady Pain-In-The-Rear.”

  “You’re still my favorite dance partner. I love you so much, and I forgive you. For everything. For sending me away. For trying to protect me. For trying to repay your debt to your brother for—”

  “Well. Now,” he interrupted, cutting off her rapid-fire emotional outburst. His mouth worked for a moment, and then his voice emerged, thick with emotion. “Don’t know if I deserve that, but I appreciate it. Very much. I love you, too, darlin’.”

  With a soft swish, the door eased open and Dr. Bolton strode inside. “How’s my favorite patient?” she asked, her eyes flitting to the monitor.

  “Bet you say that to all your patients,” her father said, his eyes brightening.

  Reese stood, her gaze sliding between her father and Dr. Bolton. Was he flirting? And was that a smile playing on the good doctor’s lips?

  Dr. Bolton lowered her chin and fixed him with a quelling look over the top of her square-framed glasses. “Just the ones who don’t talk back.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” A smile now lifted Reese’s father’s lips, the same teasing curve on Dr. Bolton’s mouth.

  Interesting.

  “How’s my ticker?”

  “Seems to be in working order,” Dr. Bolton drawled, tapping notes onto an electronic device.

  “That’s not all that’s working.” Her father’s eyebrow
s waggled.

  “Some additional tests might be in order to determine any delayed mental effects due to the coma,” Dr. Bolton quipped. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Sheesh.

  These two needed to get a room. Or Reese should vacate it for them.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Reese murmured, slipping through the door. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

  Neither her father nor Dr. Bolton indicated they’d heard her. She wondered if Dr. Bolton liked a man in uniform—a prison one that is…

  Her smile fell. Her poor dad. Never a saint, he’d gotten in way over his head because of an unscrupulous brother and the same sense of family loyalty she possessed.

  It’d nearly gotten them both killed.

  At least he’d made his peace with jail, and hopefully he’d be transferred somewhere close. She intended on visiting every week to make up for lost time.

  It wasn’t the dance studio she’d imagined, a staid affair with girls in tutus and helicopter moms. Nope. She’d run the finest male revue Dallas had ever seen, with cutting-edge, make-you-scream dance numbers that’d challenge and fulfill her…professionally. Plus, she had her dad back in her life, and that meant the world.

  She turned a corner, still smiling as she imagined the success, the legal and above-board profit she would bring to Dallas Heat, when a familiar, delicious scent stopped her dead in her tracks. Her eyes rose and she gaped, a thousand butterflies taking wing in her heart.

  Blake.

  He stood in front of her before the coffee dispenser, hitting the buttons on the machine, clearly irritated it wasn’t working and determined to make the damn thing bend to his will. She would have laughed if not for the tension coiling inside her. He hadn’t changed his stripes after all. Despite his dark gray suit, he still resembled a hit man more than a detective, a force to be reckoned with…one she desperately loved.

  What to say? Words seemed inadequate after all they’d gone through.

  Fancy seeing you here?

  How’s your eggplant?

  I love you…?

  Argh. What a mess. She was a mess. Her eyes drifted over the jeans she’d worn for two days straight and the faded, Britney Live! concert T-shirt she’d scrounged up when her clean clothes ran out. Her hand rose to her hair and encountered something tangled in it. A bit of paper from a straw, or was that rice pudding? Great. Just great.