Deirdre’s cheeks burned. “I’m not looking for the Captain…I mean, I’m searching for my real one. Uh, my birth father. A man named Jimmy Rivermont.”
“You’re adopted?” One brow arched in astonishment. “I never would have guessed it.”
“I’m not.” Deirdre drew in a deep breath, saying the words she’d practiced a dozen times on her drive to Stone’s office. Practice hadn’t made it any easier. “My mother slept with this guy when the Captain was out of the country on some mission. I found this.”
She withdrew the yellowing envelope from the purse she’d abandoned when she’d tussled with the Three Stooges. She held the thing out to Stone. He took it, scanned the envelope, then the letter inside, his gray eyes so fierce, so intent, Deirdre felt some of the crushing misery in her chest lift.
She’d been right to come here, she thought, watching him absorb the letter’s contents. With Stone’s razor-sharp intelligence, street smarts and tenacity, he’d get to the bottom of all this in a hurry. He’d find the truth and tell it to her, no matter how harsh it was or who got hurt in the process. He’d proved that when he’d told Finn about her father.
Deirdre winced, remembering the way her sister-in-law adored the Captain, how many times she’d said how lucky Deirdre and Cade were…
Deirdre ripped her thoughts away from her best friend and the hundred small kindnesses the Captain had done to make Finn feel a part of the family. If only he’d reached out the same way today, when Deirdre’s heart lay trampled, bleeding. Suddenly Deirdre felt something almost tangible touch her face. Stone. He was leveling that terrifyingly sharp gaze at her.
She felt as if he were unscrewing the top of her head, trying to get a look inside. Deirdre met his gaze, defying him to see past defenses she’d had up forever. A force field nobody had been able to penetrate since she was an awkward teenager, so hungry to be loved. Sometimes it made her sad to know that now no man ever would. She’d been alone too long.
After a moment Stone took her hand, folded her fingers around the letter with unexpected gentleness. “Here’s a bit of free advice. You’ve got a real nice family back home, from what I remember. Digging around after some guy who might have made a sperm donation—well, I don’t advise it. I mean, I wouldn’t advise it even if I was willing to take your case, which I’m not.”
His hand engulfed her smaller one, long fingers so strong, an artist’s hands. Who would have guessed Jake Stone would be capable of tenderness. “Go home, Deirdre. Forget you ever saw this letter.”
“I can’t. I need to know where I belong.”
“Go home to your father and your brother and that sweet Finn O’Grady. Go home to your little girl. Emma.”
He even remembered Emma’s name? Some part of her marveled before disappointment washed over Deirdre, followed by desperation. “It’s not up to you to make that decision. Help me. Please.”
Stone would never know how much that plea cost her. She looked into those stormy gray eyes, the irises ringed with a thin line of blue, the black lashes so thick and rich Emma’s high school friends would have envied them. But there was nothing soft about the emotions roiling beyond those lashes. Stone’s gaze, full of power, full of heat, full of fight. Traits Deirdre would do anything to have him use on her behalf at the moment.
Anything? A voice whispered in her head. Her gaze flicked, unbidden, to Stone’s mouth. A James Bond kind of mouth that kissed women senseless in secret fantasies all over America, and then vanished once the danger was over to seduce someone else. The kind of mouth Deirdre would never let within kissing distance of her own.
The phone rang. Deirdre jumped, startled, expecting him to ignore it. Stone glanced down at the caller ID. A faint smile played about his lips, something that irritated Deirdre driving shadows out of the investigator’s eyes.
He palmed the receiver and held it to his ear. “Trula Devine,” he said in a voice so rich it could probably unsnap a woman’s bra without so much as a touch. Of course, Deirdre doubted anyone with an outlandish name like that would put up much of a fight. “Hey, baby, you finally decide to put me out of my misery and call? Damn it, woman, you’ve been making me crazy!”
Stone hovering over the phone waiting for a woman to call? It just didn’t seem in character. But then, if she’d learned one thing on the road with the band all those years it was that most men didn’t have much restraint when their libidos were involved. Stone wouldn’t be the first man who’d turned idiot over a woman.
“What about the money?” Stone asked, a smile quirking his mouth—the slightly swollen place at the corner of his lips making him look all the more maddeningly sexy—as if he’d just come up for air after one soul-sucking kiss. “Hell, yes, sugar. I’ll pay. Whatever you want.”
Deirdre could hear a murmur from the other end of the phone. Stone laughed, and for an instant Deirdre felt a stab of envy, wondering what it would be like if he ever turned that thousand-watt smile onto her.
“What’s that?” he asked. “Yeah, Trula. You’ve still got the best legs in Vegas. With that body of yours you could bleed a man dry and he’d be smiling all the way to the bank to empty his accounts for you.”
Deirdre clamped her mouth shut, some of the grudging respect she had for Stone melting away. It was nauseating, the way Stone was talking. It irritated the blazes out of her—on principle of course. She didn’t want his mind on some other woman’s legs. She wanted it on the case she was hiring him to solve.
Stone turned away, tension evident in his shoulders, his voice suddenly stern. “Fine. I’ll pay whatever you want. But no more games, Trula…you heard me. When you wouldn’t pick up the phone I even stopped over. You weren’t there. I didn’t know where you were…”
Controlling bastard! He expected this Trula woman to check in with him before she stepped out of the house? The thought made Deirdre’s temper burn.
Breathe, Deirdre, she thought, trying to keep the lid on. Long, deep breaths. You can’t lose your temper. It doesn’t matter if Stone is a pig to his girlfriend. You need this man…even if he is a first rate son of a—Count backward from one hundred. One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight…
Stone chuckled, the sound raking at Deirdre’s nerves, startling her, scaring her. Making her wonder for an instant if he’d seen…No, Deirdre told herself. That laugh was for Trula Devine. Piercing as Stone’s eyes might be, he couldn’t read Deirdre’s mind.
“Do I love you?” he asked in that low, rough-edged voice that made Deirdre feel as if he’d run his hand over her skin. “What do you think, woman? You better have your dancing shoes on next time I knock on that door, and be ready to tango. That’s an order.”
He hung up the phone, glanced at Deirdre from beneath hooded lids. What was he trying to do? Hide the fact that he was aroused from talking to his sex kitten? Or exploit the fact that the conversation had made Deirdre uncomfortable?
“You’re still here?” Stone asked, feigning surprise. “I thought I made it clear my caseload is too heavy to take you on.”
“An army of men like you couldn’t take me on!” Deirdre fumed. “Maybe you’re used to ordering women around like they’re—they’re slaves or something, but—”
“Oh, honey, believe me, there’s nothing, er, involuntary about the way Trula serves me.”
“You did everything but order her to wrap herself up in cellophane so you could run right over.”
Stone grinned. “I did tell you I was busy. Of course, I can’t wait to pass on your suggestion. Believe me, Trula will love it.”
“You know what? If I’d had any idea how you treat women, I would have hit you over the head with that statue and let the Three Stooges use you for a punching bag.”
“The Three Stooges?” Stone chuckled, then his face drew back into unyielding lines. “Lucky for me you didn’t find out what a male chauvinist jerk I was until it was too late.”
Deirdre fought back tears of exhaustion, exasperation. She’d despised Stone for years. H
ated him. And yet…she’d been so sure he would untangle this mess. She’d never even considered he might say no. What was she going to do now?
Well, she sure wasn’t going to lie down and quit, she thought grimly. She’d fought her way through plenty of trouble before with no help from anyone.
“Know what?” she said, with a wave of her hand. “Forget I ever came here. I’ll find Jimmy Rivermont myself.”
She should have turned and walked out, chin high, shoulders squared—in what the Captain had always called her “Queen Elizabeth walking the plank” imitation. But for once she couldn’t carry it off. Why did it matter so much that Jake Stone was turning her away? Because she didn’t know what else to do. Couldn’t imagine where to begin. Because finding that letter had shaken everything she’d been sure of for thirty-two years. And she’d needed someone on her side.
Her memory filled with Finn’s gaze—full of empathy and love. Cade’s fierce blue one, angry, sad, for once not knowing what to do. And the Captain…it wasn’t his eyes she’d never forget. It was the sight of his back as he turned and walked away.
She looked straight into Stone’s eyes and fought to keep her voice from breaking. “You’re a real son of a bitch.”
Stone’s grin faded, his gaze holding hers, dark with secrets of his own. “I thought you had that figured out a long time ago.”
CHAPTER 4
JAKE PRESSED THE ICE PACK to his swelling jaw, hoping the ache would distract him. But even the memory of Deirdre McDaniel would be damned before it cooperated with him.
He closed his eyes, arched his head back, trying to blot out the feline angles of her face, the defiance in her I-dare-you eyes and the taunting softness of lips that had haunted his dreams more times in the past six years than he would admit even to himself.
She was still every bit as wild and beautiful as the mustang mare he’d rescued from the glue factory as a kid back in Nevada. He’d been determined to get past the horse’s defenses, teach her to trust. He’d gotten a broken collarbone and three cracked ribs before his grandmother had drawn the line. She’d told him some creatures were broken inside, too deep for anyone to fix. Sometimes the kindest thing to do was leave them alone.
Where Deirdre McDaniel was concerned, Jake had sure the hell tried to do just that. Stay as far away from the lady as possible.
And yet, down in Jake’s gut where instinct lived, he’d always known she’d walk back into his life someday. And that she’d hate him.
Jake stalked through the open door joining his office to the private part of his house and turned to glare down at the occupant of a giant-size cedar pillow on the floor near the heating vent. The mass of wrinkles around the bloodhound’s droopy face made her look as if she had melted into the Black Watch plaid fabric.
“I could have used some help in there,” Jake complained, nudging a hindquarter gently with the toe of his boot. The dog opened an eye and thumped her tail once on the pillow as if to say, I knew you had it covered, boss.
“Oh, yeah. I had it covered all right,” Jake murmured irritably. Three cons he could handle. What he couldn’t handle was five feet three inches of woman with a giant-size chip on her shoulder. What a kick in the gut it had been when he’d seen Deirdre standing there. All that fire still in her eyes.
Hell, any red-blooded man alive would wonder if she was as hot in bed as that mouth of hers promised. It had been lust at first sight. Her skin creamy smooth, touched with roses, her chin-length hair tousled as if mussed by a lover’s hands, her eyes so blue a man could swim in them if he had the guts. Because, in spite of her petite size and the feminine curves of her body, there were dangerous waters running deep in Deirdre McDaniel, monsters under the surface she didn’t let anyone see.
And what had he done? Blurted out her name like some idiot. It was damned embarrassing remembering the stunned expression on her face. He’d made it plain he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind all these years, and put her in even more danger when Hedron and his boys got the crazy idea that he’d had his hands all over her. Yeah, right. In his dreams.
“So I remember her name. So what? I’m just a kick-ass detective, right, Ellie May? It’s my job to remember details. And the woman did slam my foot in her door the first time we met.”
Deirdre had been as fierce as a lioness that day, defending Finn, a woman she’d known only a few days. God, she’d been magnificent—all righteous indignation, so damned loving and brave. She’d made him want her from that first moment. Want her beneath him, want to bury himself in her heat, see if he could make all that fiery passion break free and warm the cold places inside him no one else could ever touch. He got hard even now, just thinking about—
Yeah, that kind of thinking could land a man in big trouble.
It was a damned good thing Trula had called, just the sound of her voice bringing him back to his senses. Because when he’d been standing there, looking into Deirdre McDaniel’s eyes, listening to a woman so proud, pleading for him to help her…he’d been on the brink of making one spectacularly stupid move.
But then, he’d always had a hard time saying no to damsels in distress. Not that Deirdre was his usual type. He liked his women leggy and gorgeous and feminine, adoring him, making him feel invincible. The way Jessica had before a smoking gun had destroyed their future.
Ellie May pawed at his leg, sensing his dark thoughts. She gazed up at him soulfully, as if to say he didn’t need any other woman but her. She loved him. Adored him.
The dog rolled over, exposing her belly. Her pink tongue lolled out the side of her mouth, the animal certain that looking ridiculous would make scratching her belly irresistible to Jake.
“You’re pathetic.” He hunkered down, running his fingernails lightly over Ellie’s sleek chest. “No wonder the K-9 squad washed you out.” Ellie wriggled in delight.
“I know, I know. Masters who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw bones. You’re right. This is crazy. I just need to forget this whole deal. I told Deirdre I wouldn’t take the case, didn’t I? I’ll be damned if I’m going to help her destroy her life, hurt her family. I’ve had a bellyful of that, especially where the McDaniels are concerned.”
He remembered the brother—Cade—and his pretty wife solemnly handing over the first check to repay the money Ms. O’Grady’s father had stolen. The two had moved heaven and earth to make good on Patrick O’Grady’s debt. They’d surprised Jake, made him realize just how jaded he’d become, how little he believed in people anymore. Honest people. Decent people. People who did what was right even when they could just turn and walk away. But then, cynicism was an occupational hazard when you made a career out of exposing people’s dirty laundry.
Deirdre McDaniel should get down on her knees every night and thank God she had the family she did. Burn the letter and forget she had any father but that irascible character, Martin McDaniel.
That would happen when Ellie May had a face-lift, Jake thought grimly. Deirdre McDaniel would never let this thing go. She’d worry it until there was nothing left of her.
And she’d lose. Lose big. There were plenty of people who would rake the past up for the right price and wouldn’t give a damn…
Well, too damned bad. He’d warned her, hadn’t he? If she was too stubborn to listen, fine. Let her have at it. She wasn’t his responsibility. He’d seen too many people disillusioned. He didn’t want to see her that way. He wanted to keep her in his memory the way she’d been that first day, all fight and fire and fierce, bright love.
Except that now he’d spend forever wondering what she’d uncovered, how it had changed her. Wondering if she’d let anyone catch her when she fell.
Jake paced to the sink, let the ice pack fall. Gingerly he touched the swelling where the blackjack had grazed him. Deirdre would be fine. She was far from helpless, he reminded himself.
She was a fighter.
After all, an hour ago the woman had even fought for him.
What had she been t
hinking jumping in like that? Irritation burned through him afresh. She could have been hurt. Hell, once things turned ugly, she could have been killed. One of the cons had tried to pull a knife. Hedron hadn’t come into the office bent on murder. He’d just been juiced up by Conlan, and aching for a fistfight to teach Stone a lesson. But if that knife had driven home, all three cons would have been desperate to cover their tracks, keep out of jail. They might not be the brightest crayons in the box, but they’d have to be cretins to trust Deirdre to keep her mouth shut. And the only way they could be sure of her silence was a permanent solution.
But now Hedron wouldn’t be back. Thank God he was basically a coward, not evil the way some of the lowlifes Jake had to deal with were. Still, there was plenty of scum out there.
How could Jake know for sure that this Jimmy Rivermont wasn’t one of them? A leech or a con man or worse still, some sociopath ready to suck Deirdre dry? Destroy her family? He remembered her little girl, Emma. All big, dark eyes, a face too tender for the real world. What if Deirdre was unwittingly bringing a monster into her daughter’s life?
He heard the lazy click of Ellie May’s nails on the slate floor, glanced down to see her gazing up at him as if he were some kind of hero. One who would never leave Deirdre and Emma McDaniel to the wolves.
“Quit looking at me like that!” he told the dog. “She’s not my problem.”
Ellie May licked his hand. He shot her the glare that made grown men back down. She wasn’t impressed.
“Fine,” he snarled. “Have it your way. I’ll be damage control for the woman, if nothing else. I’ve never met any woman more likely to get herself in trouble.”
Ellie tipped her head. He’d never seen a more eloquent expression saying the canine equivalent of “yeah, right.” He could almost hear the dog laughing her wrinkles off.
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