Книга - A Perfect Storm

A Perfect Storm
Lori Foster


He never saw her coming…Spencer Lark already knows too many secrets about Arizona Storm, including the nightmare she survived and her resulting trust issues. But in order to expose a smuggling ring—and continue avenging his own tragic past—the bounty hunter reluctantly agrees to make Arizona a decoy.Yet nothing has equipped him for her hypnotic blend of fragility and bravery, or for the protective instincts she stirs in him. Arizona wants to reclaim her life, which means acting as bait to lure the enemy into a trap. Sure it’s dangerous, especially with a partner as distractingly appealing as Spencer.But as their plan—and their chemistry—shifts into high gear, Arizona may discover there’s an even greater risk in surrendering her heart to a hero…. Don’t miss more smoldering tales of men who walk on the edge of honor







HE NEVER SAW HER COMING…

Spencer Lark already knows too many secrets about Arizona Storm, including the nightmare she survived and her resulting trust issues. But in order to expose a smuggling ring—and continue avenging his own tragic past—the bounty hunter reluctantly agrees to make Arizona a decoy. Yet nothing has equipped him for her hypnotic blend of fragility and bravery, or for the protective instincts she stirs in him.

Arizona wants to reclaim her life, which means acting as bait to lure the enemy into a trap. Sure it’s dangerous, especially with a partner as distractingly appealing as Spencer. But as their plan—and their chemistry—shifts into high gear, Arizona may discover there’s an even greater risk in surrendering her heart to a hero....


Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY

bestselling author






“Steamy, edgy, and taut.”

—Library Journal on When You Dare

“The fast-paced thriller keeps these well-developed characters moving.… Foster’s series will continue to garner fans with this exciting installment.”

—Publishers Weekly on Trace of Fever

“Foster rounds out her searing trilogy with a story that tilts toward the sizzling and sexy side of the genre.”

—RT Book Reviews on Savor the Danger

“Foster writes smart, sexy, engaging characters.”

—New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan

“Lori Foster delivers everything you’re looking for

in a romance.”

—New York Times bestselling author

Jayne Ann Krentz on Hard to Handle

“Known for her funny, sexy writing.”

—Booklist

“Tension, temptation, hot action and hotter romance—Lori Foster has it all!

Hard to Handle is a knockout!”

—New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth Lowell


Dear Reader,

From the moment Arizona Storm appeared on the page in Savor the Danger, I loved her. She’s so vulnerable while still being kick-butt bold and, to me, adorably outrageous. And Spencer Lark…I think he might be my new favorite hero. Big, capable and oh-so-intuitive when it comes to Arizona. She really, really needed Spencer in her life. Eventually he realizes that he needs her as well. Lots of sparks, lots of sensuality, and—I hope—lots of fun!

A Perfect Storm is book four in my series of über-alpha private mercenaries who walk the edge of honor.

You already met Dare Macintosh, Trace Rivers and Jackson Savor. Well, Arizona fits right in with the guys. But as Spencer can tell you, she’s a woman through and through.

To see more about the books, including how they’re related and more on the characters, visit my website, www.LoriFoster.com, and check out the “Related Books & Series” page under the “Booklists” link.

Feel free to chat with me on my Facebook fan page or visit me on Twitter or Goodreads.

I hope you enjoy the story!







A Perfect Storm

Lori Foster






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

CHAPTER ONE (#u476114a7-8925-5666-93d9-fffe6e43d3d7)

CHAPTER TWO (#ue0321191-470b-5290-be8e-160a89ba76e6)

CHAPTER THREE (#ue6645861-dd63-58aa-aefd-da376f508eb1)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ue1251793-9a19-5fd5-a238-00e89261b5c3)

CHAPTER FIVE (#u4c0b60b0-f577-5225-a72b-08eea5a4fc10)

CHAPTER SIX (#u59b3daef-7184-5922-a8fc-ac39a33ea778)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

ARIZONA STORM SAT QUIETLY on the overstuffed chair, her chin resting on her drawn-up knees, her fingers laced together around her shins.

Waiting.

In the quiet, shadowed room, she breathed in the unique aroma of aftershave and gun oil, and the headier scent of warm male. On the back of the chair behind her he’d tossed his jeans and a rumpled T-shirt. Close at hand on the nightstand, he’d placed his freshly cleaned gun and his deadly switchblade.

His discarded boxers lay on the floor.

He fascinated her.

After breaking into his house, she’d removed her sneakers and put them next to his boots by the front door. The air-conditioning, set on high, left her toes cold, but he’d covered himself with no more than a thin sheet.

Again and again, her gaze tracked over him, from one big foot sticking out over the side of the bed, up and over his flat, solid abs covered by the snowy-white sheet, to his chest—not covered by anything except enticing body hair.

With one arm behind his head, his underarm and the dark tuft of hair there were visible. Seeing that almost made him look vulnerable—except that, despite his relaxed pose, the positioning of his long arm made a thick biceps bulge.

At nearly six and a half feet tall, solidly built and finely sculpted, Spencer Lark was one of the biggest, strongest, most impressive men she’d ever met.

And she knew some really prime specimens.

His long lashes shadowed his high cheekbones, but that didn’t detract from the bruising beneath one eye. A recent fight? She smiled while picturing it, sure that Spencer had come out ahead. His skill at fighting intrigued her even more than his big bod.

Amazing, but even his slightly crooked nose held her rapt. When and how had he broken it?

She inhaled a deep breath and let it out in a quiet sigh that, given the silence in his home and Spencer’s acute instincts, disturbed his slumber.

Arizona admitted to herself that maybe she’d wanted to wake him. After all, she’d been watching him—and waiting—for a while now.

His head turned on the pillow, his legs shifted.

Holding herself perfectly still, she waited to see if he’d awaken, what he’d do, what he’d say. She didn’t know him all that well, and yet…she did.

Sort of.

They’d met nearly a month ago while they were both on a sting. Immediately, they’d butted heads, and he’d infuriated her by interfering with her life.

But worse, he’d robbed her of the revenge she desperately craved.

Sure, he had his own need for revenge, so she understood his motives. She didn’t forgive him. Not yet, anyway.

But she did understand.

At least, she thought she did. Once they talked it over, then she’d decide for sure.

He made a soft, gravelly sound as he stretched that long, strong body. His chin tucked in. Muscles flexed.

The sheet tented.

Eyes widening, Arizona stared, not really alarmed, but no longer so at ease, either. She had a very dark history with aroused men, so she doubted she’d ever be unaffected by them. But she didn’t let it get in her way, not when she wanted something, not when she had a goal in mind.

She knew she should have taken Spencer’s gun, at the very least moved it out of his reach. But instead she’d found him in the bed, and before she’d even thought it through, she’d taken the empty seat and settled in to study him while he slept.

Since that fateful day when her destiny had been stolen from her, she’d seen him only a handful of times. She’d tried to stay away. She’d tried to forget about him.

She hadn’t been successful.

Stretching, he brought his hand out from behind his head, around to rub over his hair, across his face, down his chest.

As he gave a sleepy, growling groan, that hand disappeared under the sheet.

Arizona’s lips parted, and her heartbeat tripped up. She cleared her throat. “Spence?”

Freezing, without moving any other body part, he opened his eyes and met her gaze.

She frowned at him.

He didn’t look super-startled, and he said nothing. He just stared at her.

With his hand still under there.

“Yeah…” Semi-satisfied with his frozen reaction, she nodded at his lap. “You weren’t going for a little tug, were you? Because as your spectator, I’d just as soon not see it.”

He brought his hand out and put it back behind his head, still silent, still watching her. Almost…relaxed.

His gaze was so dark, so compelling, she felt like squirming, damn it. “I mean, I guess I could wait in the other room if it’s really necessary. That is, if you don’t take too long.”

He disappointed her by not reacting. As if he often woke to an uninvited woman playing voyeur in his bedroom, he looked her over, from her bare toes up to her long, wind-tangled hair.

“Been here long?”

“Maybe half an hour or so.” Curiosity prompted her to ask, “Were you going to…you know?” She nodded at his lap.

“Most men say hi to the boys first thing.”

“Say hi?”

With no sign of discomfort, he shrugged one shoulder. “You broke in.”

A statement, not a question. She gave her own casual shrug. “Since you’re not dumb enough to leave the place unlocked, yeah, I had to.”

He turned his head, but not to check on the time. He saw the gun still on the nightstand where he’d left it and brought his gaze back to hers again. “You know how to make coffee?”

One eyebrow lifted high. “Trying to get me out of the room so you can leave the bed? I’m not squeamish, you know. I mean, with my background, I’ve seen plenty of—”

He threw off the sheet and sat up, effectively shutting down her snide retort.

Ho boy.

“If you don’t know how to make coffee, just say so.” Spencer stretched again, harder, longer this time. Sitting on the side of the bed, he snagged up his boxers and stepped into them. As he stood, he pulled them up.

They fit like a glove.

He still had a tent going.

And she still stared.

He picked up the gun and, betraying some trust issues, checked to make sure she hadn’t unloaded it. Discovering she hadn’t touched it at all, he nodded in satisfaction.

As he passed her, he chucked her under the chin. “It’s called morning wood, little girl. No reason for alarm.” Gun in hand, he went on past her into the bathroom. The door closed quietly behind him.

Belatedly, Arizona shut her mouth. Oh, how she hated when he called her “little girl.” As of today, she wasn’t quite as young as he thought, and given her experiences, well, she hadn’t felt like a kid in a very long time.

Her brows snapped down, and her spine stiffened. She would not let him get to her. Huh-uh. No way.

This was her game. She would call the shots, and if anyone had to be tongue-tied, it’d be him.

She shoved to her feet, but didn’t stomp. Excesses of emotion gave away too much. She didn’t want him to know how he affected her.

At the bathroom door, voice cold and collected, she stated, “I’ll be the kitchen.”

Minutes later, just to prove a point, she went about making coffee.

* * *

SPENCER STOOD WITH HIS HANDS braced on the porcelain sink, his head hanging, his muscles twitchy.

What the hell?

Sure, he knew Arizona Storm was a reckless, impetuous, headstrong girl. He’d figured that out in the first few seconds of making her acquaintance.

But breaking and entering?

Why the hell had she sat there watching him sleep?

He felt…violated. Angry.

He felt extreme pity. For her.

Damn, but he didn’t want her, not in his house, not in his head. He could control the first.

Hadn’t had much luck controlling the second.

Not trusting her to respect his privacy, knowing damn good and well she would snoop without remorse, he gave up the idea of a shower and shave and instead rushed through brushing his teeth, splashing his face and finger-combing his hair.

Since she wasn’t in his bedroom anymore, he took the time to pull on his jeans, but rather than mess with the holster, he just stuck the gun in his waistband. He grabbed up his knife, opened it, closed it again and slid it into his pocket.

Barefoot and shirtless, he went in search of Arizona—and he had to admit, anticipation chased away the cobwebs of old memories and lack of sleep.

Seeing her slumped in a kitchen chair, arms crossed, one foot hooked behind a chair leg, jolted his senses even more.

God Almighty, she was a beauty.

Slim, long-legged and generously stacked, with a face like a wet dream, Arizona would turn heads wherever she went. Dark, wavy hair hung down her back, usually in disarray. Honey-colored skin seemed in direct contrast with light blue, heavily lashed eyes. A full mouth, a strong chin, high cheekbones…

He wondered at the mixed heritage that had produced such a dream.

As he stood unnoticed in the doorway, she chewed at a thumbnail. Arizona didn’t wear makeup, or polish her nails, or do much of anything to enhance her looks—and she didn’t need to. She could wear burlap and men would burn for her.

“Nervous?”

She went still before affecting a bored expression and swiveling her head to face him. “Do you always sleep ’til noon?”

“When I’ve been up all night, yes.” He made a beeline for the coffeepot but didn’t thank her for making it. After all, she’d come in uninvited. “You want a cup?”

“If you have sugar and milk.”

“Creamer.” He poured two cups and set them on the table, then got the creamer from the fridge. The sugar bowl sat in the middle of the table, framed by salt and pepper shakers.

Like many of the things in his kitchen, they resembled cows in one way or another.

His wife had bought the novelty items years ago.

While blowing on the hot coffee, Spencer ruthlessly quashed bad memories. Arizona loaded her coffee with two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and a liberal splash of the cream.

He watched her lush mouth as she sipped, sipped again.

Shaking himself, he took a drink, and nearly choked. Strong enough to peel the lining from his throat, it was the worst coffee he’d ever tasted. Arizona didn’t seem to notice, though, so he manned up and drank without complaint.

The overdose of caffeine would do him good.

Silence dragged out while they each gave attention to their coffee. He wouldn’t be the first to break.

Finally she eyed him. “How come you were out late? Carousing?”

Actually, he’d needed to expend some energy for reasons he wouldn’t yet examine too closely. Shrugging, he said, “I hit up a bar, found a little trouble.” He looked at her. “You know how it is, right?”

To his disgruntlement, she nodded. “Yeah, I did the same. But I fared better than you.” Her mouth quirked in a small grin, and she winked. “No black eye.”

Had she really been in a bar? Looking for trouble?

Again?

He didn’t need to defend himself, not to her, but still he said, “You should see the other three guys.”

“Yeah? Only three?” Tsking, she let her gaze drift over him. “Any other bruises?”

“No.”

She propped her chin on a fist. “One lucky punch, huh?”

Did she have to appear so amused by idiotic drinking and brawling? “Something like that.” Actually it was a thrown chair that had caught him, but whatever. He wouldn’t encourage her with details. “So tell me, little girl. What were you doing in a bar?”

She looked away. With one finger, she traced the rim of her coffee cup. “Sometimes,” she said low, her voice almost whimsical, “I just need a distraction.”

His chest tightened. He waited to see if she’d elaborate, if she’d share details of her tragic background with human traffickers. She had a need to even the score with people already dead, the monsters who’d hurt her badly.

Suddenly she leaned forward. “Can you keep a secret?”

Damn, he didn’t want to play these games. “Depends.”

She scowled. “On what?”

“On whether or not keeping it is in your best interest.”

Sitting back in irritation, she demanded, “Why does that concern you?”

He countered with, “Why do you want to tell me?”

For long moments they stared at each other, and then she broke. “Fuck it. I don’t. Not anymore.” After downing the rest of her coffee, she scraped back her chair. “I’m outta here.”

Spencer caught her wrist. And of course, that got her going.

Quick temper and a boulder-size chip on her shoulder had her swinging a fist. He dodged it, but she kicked and caught him in the shin. Luckily she didn’t wear shoes, so it didn’t hurt.

Much.

In the ensuing scuffle, his coffee cup hit the floor and broke.

Given they were both barefoot, he did the expedient thing and tossed her over his shoulder. Clamping a hand over her thighs, he warned, “Bite me, and I swear to God, you won’t like the consequences.”

Rather than struggle, she braced her elbows on his back. “You’ve threatened me before.”

“Because you’ve attacked me before.” Stepping over and around the mess on his floor, he went into the hallway, then figured, what the hell, and went on into the living room.

He dumped her on the couch.

She bounded right back off again.

Another scuffle, and damn it, it was too early and he was too tired to put up with it.

“Arizona!” He locked her in close in a now familiar hold—at least with her—keeping her back to his chest, her arms pinned down. He squeezed her tight enough to steal her breath. “Knock it off already, will you?”

Her head dropped back against his chest so she could glare at him. He waited, refusing to relent, driven by…God knew what.

She gave one sharp nod.

Spencer opened his arms but quickly stepped out of her reach. “Okay?”

“Screw you.”

So much animosity, so much rage at the world. She’d never admit it, but Arizona needed a friend, a confidante, and if it put him through hell, well, so what? He’d been in hell for a while now. “You came to me, remember?”

“And now I’m trying to leave!”

His head pounded. If she walked out now, he’d spend the rest of the day worrying about her.

Or following her.

He worked his jaw, then said, “I’ll keep your secret. What is it?”

“Oh, aren’t you the generous one?”

He sighed. “The sneer is unappealing. Just tell me what it is.”

The narrowing of her eyes emphasized their pale, bright blue color and the thickness of her long, inky lashes. She drew two deep breaths, making it tough for him to keep his attention off her chest.

“It’s my birthday.”

Huh. Of all the things he’d imagined, that wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t even one of the top fifty. “Your birthday?” he said stupidly.

“Yeah, you know, the day I was born. Not under a rock, in case you’re wondering.” When he stayed mute, she added, “I’m twenty-one now. A legal adult. Not a little girl, like you keep saying.”

Arizona didn’t have family. She had a friend, Jackson, the man who had rescued her from death. She had Jackson’s soon-to-be-wife, Alani. She had their family and friends.

But none of her own.

He shook his head. “That’s it?” That’s why she’d broken into his house? Why she’d sat on the chair and watched him sleep?

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, what’d you expect? A confession of murder?”

“I don’t know.” With her, he could take nothing for granted. Why didn’t she want anyone to know about her birthday? His rubbed his bristly jaw, studied her, but came up short of reason or even clear thought. He dropped his hand. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

They stood there staring at each other, and it would have been odd, but everything with Arizona was odd.

Especially the multitude of ways she affected him, the emotions she wrought and the needs she ignited.

As if her bizarre overreaction hadn’t happened, she dropped back to sit on the couch. “I almost didn’t remember. I mean, it’s been a really long time since anyone made note of it. And even then, it was usually just my mom saying happy birthday to me. No biggie.” She gave a crooked smile. “We weren’t a cake and candles type of family.”

So she’d never gotten a birthday gift? No one celebrated her life?

“It’s not a big deal or anything. But I guess with you always accusing me of being young—”

“You are young. It’s not an accusation, it’s a fact.” One he desperately needed to remember.

“But now I’m legal.”

Meaning…what? At thirty-two, he was only eleven years older than her, but he felt twice her age. He massaged a kink in the back of his neck. Did she expect a gift? A night out? Jesus, he didn’t know. “So…we could go get a cake.” Or something.

Her small smile spread into a mocking grin. “Don’t be an ass. I don’t want or need anything like that. I’m just saying, no more calling me little girl.”

At a loss, Spencer joined her on the couch. Instead of lounging back, he half turned toward her. “Why are you keeping it secret?”

She snorted. “You met Jackson. You know he’d make a big deal of it or something, and I don’t want that.” Half under her breath, she muttered, “I’m enough of a burden already.”

“I don’t think he’d agree with that.” Jackson treated her like a kid sister, and he’d probably want to do whatever he could to commemorate the day, to somehow make it special for her—to make up for a past so dark, so depressing, that no young lady should have suffered through it.

“Yeah.” She smoothed a hand over the corduroy of his couch. “Maybe not. But it’s still true.”

Since she didn’t want him to, he wouldn’t say anything, but he didn’t like it. “You shouldn’t keep stuff from him. He cares about you.”

“I know.” She crossed her arms over her middle. “But he’s got his hands full. Remember, he’s planning a wedding.”

Was she jealous of Alani? From what he’d seen, Arizona looked at Jackson with her heart in her eyes. He was the only person she had, so he meant a lot to her. “More like his fiancée is planning it.”

“Alani is preggers, remember?”

“I had heard.” He also knew the pregnancy was a happy surprise, and in no way had forced their decision to marry. “Does it bother you?”

“Of course not,” she insisted. “But with all that going on, he doesn’t need to be messing with me.”

Dinner out, a small gift, cake and hugs…did she consider that too much fuss? “I think Jackson can handle it.”

“Besides,” she added, speaking over him, “I have a new identity, remember? No going back and especially no celebrating give-away dates like birthdays.”

In an effort to help her, Jackson had covered her background, buried the past for her as much as he could, and for her safety, he’d given her a whole new identity, including a new name. It was a way to start over, to start fresh.

But none of that would help Arizona heal from the past.

Uncomfortable with the moment, Spencer floundered, trying to find something to say. He hadn’t known her that long, and their acquaintance had been fraught with danger. As a bounty hunter, he’d been tracking criminal psychopaths—and the psychopaths had been tracking her.

Arizona, being outrageous in every way a person could imagine, had used herself as bait. Along the way, Spencer had met Jackson and learned a little about their history.

They presented their relationship as that of friends, or maybe siblings. But the nuances of their connection made anything that simple impossible. Not with Arizona’s looks and not when Jackson had saved her life.

Not when she’d once been held captive by human traffickers who, after using her, had tried to kill her as punishment for running away.

Her death would have been a lesson to remaining trapped victims. Instead, the bastards had died—and good riddance.

Luckily—at least for Spencer’s peace of mind—Jackson was already in love with Alani, so his interest in Arizona wasn’t romantic in any way. But for Arizona? He just didn’t know.

Jackson was a good man. A protector.

And right now, Spencer felt like a destroyer of evil. Nothing protective in that.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Arizona slugged him in the shoulder. “What the hell is wrong with you? No one died. Lose the sad face, will you?”

He’d try. “So why are you here?” Remembering how she’d gotten in, he turned to look at the door. “You didn’t damage my lock, did you?”

“Your lock is fine—shitty, but fine.” She propped her feet on the table in front of the couch. “I’m good at picking locks.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

She stared down the length of her legs and wiggled her toes. Nonchalantly, she said, “I need some help.”

Apprehension shot through him. “With what?” Had she gotten herself into trouble somehow? Was someone after her again?

“Promise me that you won’t tell Jackson about this, either, and then I’ll tell you.”

Fearful for her, he said, “Sure, whatever. I won’t tell Jackson.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed. “That was a mighty quick agreement.”

“But sincere.” At the moment, his biggest concern was her safety. “Spill it.”

“All right.” She went back to rubbing the corduroy, and it was such a sensual thing, her hand moving slowly over the material, that Spencer felt mesmerized. “There’s this restaurant. Well, it’s actually a sleazy bar, but they do serve food during the day, too.”

From any other woman, those words wouldn’t cause much reaction. From Arizona, they boded a looming catastrophe. “What bar? Where?”

“Don’t look like that,” she complained. “Until I know you’re on board, I’m not giving you details. Let’s just say I suspect they’re part of a large-scale trafficking ring and maybe using forced labor. I want to look into it. But I’m not dumb. I know I need some backup.”

Dear God, Jackson looked into large-scale trafficking rings—not Arizona! And he didn’t work alone—he worked with other men who were equally skilled.

They backed each other up—and they’d given Arizona computer duties in an effort to involve her, while keeping her away from the more dangerous action. She should have been doing no more than researching backgrounds on small-scale, local-level traffickers.

Research only.

“I was thinking I could be bait again. You know, put myself out there and see what happens. With you keeping watch, it’d be safe enough, right? If they try to grab me, then we—”

“No.” His temper shot into overdrive, on a par with his alarm. He said again, with more force, “No.”

Unmoved, Arizona met his angry gaze—and shrugged. “Fine. I thought you might want to team up, but I can figure it out on my own.” She started to leave the couch.

He again caught her arm.

Slim, warm and so soft…

As she stared at him, her blue eyes lit from a very short fuse. “I’d suggest you stop trying to manhandle me.”

Hearing the deadly tone in her voice, Spencer opened his fingers. “Give me a second to think, will you?”

“Huh.” At her leisure, she dropped back again. “So ‘no’ with you isn’t necessarily no? It might mean something else? It could mean that you just want time to think?”

She was making mincemeat out of him. He had to take control. “I don’t want you anywhere near anything dangerous, especially by yourself.”

“Yeah, but see, you aren’t my daddy, aren’t my boyfriend, and you sure as hell aren’t anything in-between. So if you don’t want to help, then it’s none of your damn business.”

What did she consider in-between? “I want to make a bet with you.”

Her interest perked up. “You do? About what?”

Already knowing it wouldn’t go over well, Spencer braced himself. “I bet you can’t go a month without cursing.”

Her chin tucked in, and her brows came down. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He had no idea, except that it annoyed him to hear her be so coarse. “Go a month without cursing.” He hated himself, but he said, “Every time you slip, you owe me a kiss.”

Icy stillness fell over her. Silence pulsed in the room.

Tension gathered like storm clouds.

Pulling the tiger’s tail, he asked, “Well?”

Eyes glittering, Arizona slowly pushed to her feet. “Fuck you,” she whispered.

He could see a pulse tripping in her slim throat.

He could see the fear she tried so hard to hide.

“I suggested a kiss, Arizona. Nothing more. And despite what you said, ‘no’ does mean ‘no’ to me. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not!”

“You don’t have to expect the worst, either.” He didn’t move from his position on the couch, but with their gazes locked, it felt as if he touched her all the same.

It disturbed him—so what would it do to her?

“I would never hurt you,” he promised. “I’d do my best to protect you from anyone who would.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.” Her eyes turned glassy, a little wet. “I can protect myself.”

Not too long ago, she hadn’t protected herself at all. And no one else had, either.

“You find kissing so repulsive?”

She shook her head but said, “I don’t know.” Then she added, “I haven’t done much…kissing.”

“No?”

Her teeth clenched; she spoke through stiff lips. “A guy who’s paying for his time doesn’t want to waste it on that.” In defiance, she added, “Thank God.”

Her words felt like a kick in the guts. “Arizona—”

“They saw me as unclean.” Her chin jutted forward. “And I’m glad!”

Had she ever been given a sincere, caring, affectionate kiss? He just didn’t know. But they had to start somewhere, or she’d never be free of her past.

He sat forward. “Given your expression, the idea of kissing me would be insufferable, so I’m guessing it should be incentive enough to clean up your language. Right?”

She took a step back, then another. Arms loose, bare feet braced apart, she prepared to fight.

After everything that had happened to him in the past three years, his heart should have been encased in ice. Until Arizona, it had been.

Now, around her, everything felt as raw as a fresh, hot wound.

“You trust me,” he pointed out.

She shook her head. “I don’t trust anyone.”

Slowly he stood and took a step toward her. “Yes, you do. You don’t want to, and I understand that. I really do. But that’s no way to live and you know it.”

Shaking her head again, she whispered, “No.” Then louder, “No!”

He stopped. “Why did you break into my house to tell me it’s your birthday? If you don’t trust me, why did you leave my gun and knife on the nightstand? If you’re afraid of me, why are you here, asking me to partner up with you?”

She breathed harder.

As a warning, her small hand bunched into a fist. He didn’t care. If she slugged him, maybe that’d finally make him see reason.

Maybe he’d finally be able to stop thinking about her.

“Damn you,” she growled.

And his doorbell rang.


CHAPTER TWO

ARIZONA WATCHED AS CALM settled over Spencer’s features. Oh, chaotic emotion had been there seconds before. She knew it. But now, he looked as collected as a college professor.

“Excuse me,” he said with absurd formality, and turned to head for the front door.

The second his back was turned, she let out a pent-up breath and felt her knees weaken.

Why did he rattle her so much? Fear? Yeah, around him she felt it in spades. But it wasn’t a normal kind of fear.

It wasn’t anything familiar.

She’d lived with fear most of her life, first from her father and his cohorts, then from the awful traffickers and the swine who came to them for women. And then…from the idea of being alone, unable to help others.

Useless.

From where she stood, the open door blocked her view of his visitor, but she didn’t need a visual, not with the husky female voice now crooning, “Spencer, I’m so glad you’re home.”

Arizona’s spine went rigid.

Strength surged back into her legs.

So did petty animosity.

She strained her ears but heard nothing, and she suspected the woman was kissing Spencer.

“Sorry, doll,” Spencer finally said low, “but it’s not a good time.”

Doll? Not a good time for what? Curiosity, and a few more unpleasant emotions, nudged Arizona closer.

“But it’s been forever,” purred the female, “and you promised me—”

“I don’t make promises.”

“I know.” An exaggerated sigh. “That’s not what I meant. But…” Silly female cajoling. “God, Spencer, I need you.” Slim, pale hands came up and around Spencer’s neck and drew him down.

This time she had no doubts at all about the silence. They were making out in his doorway, right there for God and the rest of the world to see.

Peeved, Arizona took a few quicker steps forward, and witnessed a pretty blonde delivering a scorching kiss. They both had their eyes closed. They fit together. And she saw a flash of tongue.

Fury narrowed her eyes.

Spencer knew she was waiting on him, but he didn’t exactly fight off Blondie’s attentions.

With one hand at her waist and the other keeping the door held open—probably to try to block Arizona from seeing—Spencer let the brazen broad kiss him.

Crossing her arms and propping her shoulder against the wall, Arizona asked, “Can I get an estimate on how long this is going to take?”

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 down 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.”

“Bravery?” Eyebrow raised, Trace reached for his Coke. “I’d call it recklessness.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t want to argue the point. “It bothers me that she doesn’t show enough caution, and she puts no value on her own hide.”

“I know.” Almost as a warning, Trace said, “Whoever hooks up with the girl better have a lot of fortitude, because I don’t see her easing off anytime soon.”

Yeah…he didn’t want to think about Arizona with anyone else. And the way she’d reacted to the idea of a kiss, he knew she still had a lot of hurt to overcome. People now cared for her, but she trusted only the ugly side of life.

Because that was all she knew.

With the Coke gone, Trace got serious. “I thought Jackson had her busy doing computer work.”

Not busy enough, obviously. “She does that—and then some.”

On a sigh, Trace asked, “So what’s she into now?”

Spencer explained about the bar and grill, and Arizona’s suspicions. “She told me she’s been there a few times already and she’s been noticed.”

“That girl would get noticed anywhere.”

An irrefutable fact. He’d never seen a woman as breathtakingly gorgeous as Arizona. “So at this point, for the sake of her safety, I have to assume there are some shady deals going on. Which means someone might have already followed her.”

“They could know where she lives, the places she frequents. She could get grabbed right off the street.” Trace gave him a long look. “Unfortunately, it happens all the time.”

Which was why he wanted to protect her. “I have no choice but to get involved.”

“No choice at all.” Trace considered things. “Give me the name of the place and the location.”

“The Green Goose, in downtown Middleville.”

Expression arrested, Trace said, “Shit.”

“What? You’re aware of something going on in there?”

It took him a second, and then Trace laughed. “She’s got great instincts, I’ll give her that.”

It hit Spencer like a ton of bricks. “She’s right about the place, isn’t she?”

“Afraid so. Luckily for your peace of mind, we were already on it. Early stages, though. Dare was running background checks on the owners, and I was planning a visit so I could scope out things from within.”

“Arizona’s already done that.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, but Trace had to know it all. “She says she sat at a table, and when a kid came to take her order, she noticed some bruises, what looked like a broken finger that hadn’t been set right, and the boy wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Probably not more than sixteen, though of course his age would be fudged.”

Anger gathered in Trace’s expression, but he sounded calm enough when he said, “I wish we’d moved on this sooner, damn it.”

But they couldn’t be everywhere at once, and cruelty existed far and wide, all the time. “When the boy brought her food, Arizona asked if it was a good place to work. She told him she was looking for a job.”

“The boy’s reaction?”

“He couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her what they made per hour.”

Grim, Trace said, “Because he’s not getting paid.”

“That’s Arizona’s assumption. Around a lot of stammering and nervousness, the boy pointed out the man to talk to if she wanted to work there. Arizona said he’s a tall, skinny guy, mid-forties, thinning brown hair, brown eyes, goatee, earring, some sort of colorful tribal tattoo on his left arm. From what she could find out, he’s the owner of the place.”

“Terry Janes.” Trace crossed his arms. “Did some time when he was younger for peddling drugs, been in more trouble a handful of times for robbery, breaking and entering, suspected rape. He had a charge for beating a guy half to death, but that fell through the cracks. No way is he the owner.”

God, it sounded worse than Spencer had suspected. “Later that night, Arizona kept watch on the place and only a few of the employees left. Janes, his bartender, his bouncer—just key people, I guess. He locked the door behind him. It’s a shitty part of town, so bars on the windows make sense, but in this case—”

“They’re there to keep the workers in.” After a moment of thought, Trace leaned forward, arms resting on the table. “Please tell me that Arizona hasn’t talked to him.”

That was the only good news in the whole screwed scenario. “She says not, but she told the boy she’d be back tomorrow night—and she’s pretty sure the guy overheard it all.”

“Which was probably intentional on her part?”

“I assume so.”

Trace shook his head. “So now they’ll be watching for her.”

“You met Arizona. That’s her plan.” Disgust rolled through him; he hated her plan. “She wants them to know, to make a move, so she can expose them.”

“At least she had the good sense to come to you for backup.” Trace pulled out his cell phone. “Where’s Arizona now?”

“At this precise moment? No idea.” And that was a problem, because it would take Arizona no more than a minute to get in over her head. When he couldn’t see her, he worried about what she was doing, if she was safe.

He wondered if she thought about him even half as much as he thought about her.

It’d be nice to claim that altruistic motives drove him. But that wouldn’t be the whole truth, and he knew it.

He glanced at his wristwatch. “She’s coming by my place in a few hours so we can coordinate plans for tomorrow.”

“Coordinating plans was the best you could come up with?”

Spencer shrugged. That had been the only excuse he could think of to gain himself time enough to talk to Trace—and to get a cake for her birthday.

Trace said, “Whatever you call it, get her to stay overnight with you, and keep her under wraps until she heads to the Green Goose.”

No and no again. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” And not touch her?

“I don’t know. Find a way. Tell her you need to go over the rules with her.”

Or just go over her. Spencer shook his head. “You think that’ll take the whole night?”

“Guess that depends on how you drag it out, doesn’t it?”

Spencer didn’t miss the suggestion. But Trace had to be kidding. With a hand to the back of his neck, Spencer tried to rub away the growing tension. “The thing is, Arizona’s…skittish.”

What an understatement. Arizona was all brass and bravado, until someone showed intimate interest. Then her survival reaction of fight, flight or freeze kicked in.

So far, with him, she always chose to fight.

And every time it happened, the vise on his heart squeezed a little tighter. He had a plan to help her with that. A masochistic plan that was sure to make him nuts, but for Arizona…

“She knows you want her.”

“No.” Damn it, he’d said that too fast and sounded far too defensive.

Trace just looked at him.

“I’m too old for her.” God, just shut up, Spencer.

“Given what she’s been through and the way she lives, I’d say you’re just what she needs.”

Not a topic he’d discuss with Trace or anyone else.

As if he realized that himself, Trace didn’t wait for confirmation. “Get her to your place, and I’ll find a way to disable her car. It’s as good an excuse as any for her to stay the night. Keeping her with you will give you more control until we shut down the joint.”

The enormity of coercing Arizona to do anything was overshadowed by Spencer’s surprise. “Shut it down?” Could it really be that easy to remove Arizona from danger—this time? “Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.” Being enigmatic, Trace added, “We were on this anyway.”

We, meaning Trace, Dare and Jackson? He didn’t ask. He knew Trace wouldn’t tell him. “Glad to hear it.”

“Now, with Arizona ready to dive in… It could still take some time, but I’ll do my best to accelerate things.”

“I hope so, because if you know Arizona at all, you know I’m not going to be able to get her to pull back.” Hell, he’d be lucky if he could get her to stop swinging for his head. “As for her staying with me…dicking with her car might work once, but after that? She won’t like the idea of anyone protecting her.”

Trace looked down at the table. “I understand her. After what she’s been through, she hurts, physically and emotionally, thinking about anyone caught in that situation.”

“She knows how it is,” Spencer agreed softly. “She understands that unique misery only too well.” And for Arizona, the only escape from her memories would be to validate her current well-being by helping others. Otherwise, she’d feel like she had no justice at all.

They shared a somber moment, then Trace flipped open his phone and pressed a button. “Let me make this call, and then I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.”


CHAPTER THREE

BRIGHT SUNSHINE SHONE in Arizona’s eyes as she waited in her car for Spencer to return. Even adjusting the visor didn’t help. Heat built—inside the car, inside her mind.

Growing bored, then quickly drowsy, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes against the glare…and drifted away to the day of that awful confrontation.

Spencer’s voice sounded with conviction…and with caring. “Whatever Chandra did to you, she’ll pay.”

But Arizona knew that couldn’t be true. Even thinking Chandra had died wasn’t payment enough. And now, people she cared about, people she loved, were at risk.

Because of her.

Red-hot hatred, bone-deep fear, churned inside her.

It wasn’t easy, but she pretended indifference to the situation. Not that she ever could be. Not faced with her tormentor—the one who’d orchestrated so much hurt and unthinkable disgrace, here in the flesh.

All this time, she’d thought Chandra dead, well out of reach of revenge.

And unable to cause more pain.

Yet there she stood. Smiling. Sick as always. Unfortunately, this time, Arizona wasn’t her only target. Now Chandra planned to hurt others—Jackson, his girlfriend, Alani.

Spencer.

No, not Spencer. He’d skipped out seconds before the situation escalated. To where?

Who cared? She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Bravado would have to get her through. Summoning a snide smile to hide the hurt, Arizona sneered, “Usually dead women can’t talk. And you are dead—whether you realize it yet or not.”

A maniacal laugh. Chandra’s awful, bone-chilling enjoyment of pain.

It left her pale, cold. Determined. Arizona didn’t back down. “It’s between us. Leave the others out of it.” Let me have my revenge. Please.

Chandra disregarded the warning, saying, “If she speaks again, shoot her.”

And they would. Chandra’s bully boys would enjoy putting a bullet in her.

What to do? Stand back, as Jackson asked? She owed him so much, but…she couldn’t. If she stayed safe, she couldn’t strike out. And she wanted to. She desperately needed to.

So what if her hands were shaking?

So what if her heart thundered and her eyes burned and the urge to flee beat hard and fast in her chest? Never would she run away.

This was her hell.

She had the right to end it.

Determined, determined…but then everything happened at once. Multiple shots, chaos…

Spencer! He hadn’t left. Not yet.

Expression fierce and jaw rock-hard, Spencer started toward her.

He’d stolen her revenge.

He hadn’t left her.

Anger and relief built in combustible force, so confusing, so powerful—

“Yoo-hoo.”

Jolted from the dark memory, Arizona bolted upright in her seat. Without thinking about it, she automatically reached for her knife and looked around at the same time.

Standing there by the passenger door, bending to look in the window, was Spencer’s busty neighbor. She showed off a bright smile, a lot of cleavage and cunning resolve.

Perfect. Just what she deserved.

Still caught up in reliving the awful scenario that had stolen her purpose for being, Arizona breathed too hard, too fast. Sweat had gathered along her spine. Her palms felt damp.

Slowly, hoping the neighbor wouldn’t notice, she drew her hand away from the knife hidden at the small of her back, then shoved her hair from her face.

Where the hell was Spencer? She’d pulled up twenty minutes ago but hadn’t seen his truck. While trying to decide whether to hang around or to bolt, she’d taken an unplanned trip down memory lane.

So lame.

Surreptitiously she swiped a forearm over her brow and put up the car windows.

Never one to miss an opportunity, Arizona undid her seat belt and left her black Focus. “Yoo-hoo, yourself.” Even saying it with sarcasm, she felt like an ass. But at least the intrusion had brought her back to the here and now. “You know where Spencer is?”

“He went out,” Blondie said helpfully.

“No kidding?” Arizona circled the hood, leaned against the fender and crossed her arms. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

Blondie’s smile slipped, making her almost feel mean.

“Sorry. I’ve had a rough day.” She held out her hand. “Arizona.”

“What?”

Well used to that reaction, she shrugged. “My name. It’s Arizona.”

“Oh.” Wary, keeping the contact as brief as possible, the neighbor-lady shook her hand in a limp, barely there greeting. “Marla.”

“Nice to meet you, Marla.” Spencer had asked her to come back at six, and she was twenty minutes early, but so what? She couldn’t break in again, not with the ever-alert Marla keeping tabs on things. Anything that happened now was Spencer’s fault. “So, that stuff this morning… You and Spence got something going on, huh?”

Marla found her backbone. “Yes.”

That was it? Arizona pursed her mouth and waited. Blondie would crack, no doubt about it.

Annnnnddd…she did.

“We’ve, ah, been seeing each other for a while now.”

Seeing each other meant what? In the sack, or had Spencer taken her out on a date? Dancing, dinner, movies… Arizona really had no understanding of the concept. Never in her life had she been out on a legitimate “date.”

This could be a great learning experience. She’d uncover details about Spencer that a cold file filled with facts couldn’t give, and maybe get a better, more personal grasp of the whole relationship ritual.

“No kidding? How long is a while?”

Marla’s bravery faltered. “Long enough.”

Meaning…they were an item? “Well of course you have. Look at you.” She gestured at Marla’s boobs. “No guy would pass that up, right?”

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say, because Marla backed up two steps. “You looked lost in thought when I walked out.”

Lost being the operative word. But not anymore. Never again. “Just waiting on Spence.”

“Why?”

For some insane reason, maybe deeply rooted female vindictiveness, Arizona enjoyed telling her, “He wanted me to join him for dinner.”

Putting her plump shoulders back, Marla tried for a level, nasty stare. “You’re wasting your time.”

A direct attack? Bravo, Marla. Grinning, Arizona said, “Well, look at you feeling all ballsy and possessive and stuff.”

That got her a double take and more wariness. “I mean it.” Marla visually worked up her courage. “Spencer and I might not be…committed—”

“Still up in the air, huh?”

“But we have an understanding.”

What did that mean? An understanding about what? “Enlighten me, why doncha?”

“You can’t have him.”

No misunderstanding that. “Didn’t say I wanted him.” Arizona pushed away from the car, and Blondie took another quick step back. “At least, not for what you’re talking about.”

“No?”

“Definitely no. You want to screw him?” Her throat tightened, but she got the words out. “Have at it. More power to you.”

Marla soaked in the words, analyzed them, and gave a slow smile.

Arizona didn’t trust that smile one bit. “What’s funny?”

Overflowing with good humor, Marla said, “You haven’t slept with him, have you?”

How would she know that? She couldn’t. “I never kiss and tell.”

Marla shook her head. “Spencer said you were a one-night stand, a mistake, but now I know that was a lie.”

A mistake? That dick. She’d make him pay for that. “You calling Spence a liar?”

“I’m just saying that he made up a story for some reason. Maybe to protect you somehow. I know he’s a bounty hunter. Could be you’re undercover with him or something.”

Huh. What exactly did she think bounty hunters did? Mocking her assumptions, Arizona said, “That’s some imagination you’ve got.”

Marla shrugged. “All I know is that you haven’t slept with him.”

“You’re sure about that, are you?”

“Absolutely.” Marla oozed satisfaction, even leaned in to taunt Arizona. “If you’d ever had him, you’d feel differently about having him again.”

She sounded so convinced, she piqued Arizona’s interest. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

With significance, Marla purred, “For one thing, he’s big all over.”

Arizona’s heart almost stopped. In an appalled whisper, she asked, “You like that?”

Scowling, Marla pulled back. “Bigger is definitely better.”

Visuals came to Arizona’s mind, but she didn’t have quite the reaction Marla seemed to expect. She wrinkled her nose. “If you say so.”

Marla shivered with pleasure. “He’s delicious.”

Yeaaaahhhh, she’d let that one go. “You’re saying that even though he’s big, you don’t feel…” She couldn’t think of an appropriate word and settled for, “maybe threatened?”

“With Spencer? Of course not.”

Hmm. Okay, so Spencer was extra tall, extra muscular, solid, and loaded with ability. He had never hurt her.

Contained her, yes. Hurt her, no. “So you like it that he’s big?”

“That, and the man knows things.”

Fascinating. What things could he know that she didn’t, that Marla found not only acceptable, but good enough to want again and again? “Give me an example.”

“I’m not telling you!”

Provoking her—because she really did want details—Arizona said, “That’s what I thought. You can’t give an example because you don’t know.”

“He’s wonderful.”

Arizona snorted. “Wonderfully pushy.”

“He’s considerate and patient.”

“So is my bookie,” Arizona told her, “but I wouldn’t want to screw him.” She shuddered at just the thought.

Taking the bait, Marla leaned forward again. “He’s the best, most generous lover I’ve ever had.”

“How many have you had?”

“My God.” Gasping, Marla drew back once more. “That is none of your business!”

“You brought it up.” Still ripe with curiosity, Arizona asked, “So what does Spence do specifically that’s so awesome you’d be willing to fight for him?”

Marla blanched. “Fight? But…but I never said anything about fighting.”

“No? So then what’s this?” Arizona waved a hand between them. “Some sort of warped social call?”

Her mouth worked, but it took her a few seconds to get anything out. “He said you’re a stalker.”

Considering she’d broken in and watched him sleep, she couldn’t deny that. “Ehhhh…maybe.”

Marla found her courage again. “Well, whatever reason you’re here, you might as well give up on the idea of having him. He’s mine, and he’s staying mine.”

Spencer drove up and, looking horrified to see the women together, pulled into his driveway and slammed the truck into Park.

Lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, Arizona watched him cross the yard in a fast, long-legged stride. He wore a frown of concern. Sheesh. What did he think she’d do to his girlfriend?

“Last chance to tell me what’s so special about him.” In bed.

“That’s personal, so forget it.”

Knowing there’d be no more Q & A, Arizona said to Marla, “Spoilsport.” And then she waited for Spencer to reach them.

* * *

WHILE ARIZONA ACTED as if nothing had happened, Spencer continued to stew. He didn’t know if she truly lacked all social graces, or if she enjoyed pushing his buttons in any and every way possible.

There’d be hell to pay with Marla. She’d already started to get clingy, and now, seeing Arizona as a direct threat, she’d probably double her efforts.

Just what he didn’t need.

Since losing his wife three years ago, he’d occasionally given in to his baser urges. He was a grown man, and between long bouts of celibacy, he needed relief.

He didn’t fault himself for that.

But giving in to Marla had been a huge mistake. Their close proximity as neighbors was sticky enough; the fact that she had marriage in her eyes should have been the clincher.

Unfortunately, a few months after she’d moved in, she’d caught him at a weak moment, a moment he regretted, and after that…well, he’d slept with her a total of three times.

Idiotic. And regrettable.

But that was all before meeting Arizona, and since meeting her… No, he hadn’t wanted Marla.

Straddling a chair, Arizona watched him intently as he went about cooking dinner. There was a new attentiveness to her gaze that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t understand it.

He didn’t understand her.

They hadn’t said much since he’d more or less dragged her inside—away from Marla—with rushed excuses. He felt her amusement, and it nettled him. He felt her curiosity, and that worried him more.

“Food smells good.”

Standing at the stove turning chops, Spencer glanced back at her. An olive branch? From Arizona? He wasn’t fool enough to reject it.

“Thanks. We would have had steaks on the grill, but—”

“You didn’t want Marla to see us together.” Arizona grinned. “I get it.” She lifted her hand as if shooting a gun. “The lady’s got you in her sights and she’s taking aim.”

The microwave dinged, so he took out the potatoes. “Marla misunderstands the situation.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. She knows you’re not hooked yet, or she wouldn’t be so insecure about things.” Snorting, Arizona added, “I can’t believe you told her we slept together.”

His neck stiffened. “It was as good an excuse as any.”

“Yeah, maybe. But now she knows better.”

Going still, Spencer swallowed a groan. “You told her?” Marla would likely ramp up her efforts if she knew the truth.

“Not really on purpose.” Arizona’s gaze was so intent, it burned him.

He split the potatoes and dropped in butter. He almost hated to ask, but… “How does that conversation accidentally happen?”

“When she found out I wasn’t going all she-devil over the idea of you boinking her, she said she knew.” Nonchalantly, Arizona added, “Something about you being such a stud-muffin in the sack that if I’d ever had a taste of what you have to offer, I’d be fighting tooth and nail to keep it all to myself.”

Heat crawled up his neck. “That’s baloney.”

“Hey, she said it, not me. I was notably skeptical.”

Figured. “Questioned my prowess, huh?”

“She didn’t really mention your, er, prowess. She just said you’re well hung.”

He damn near dropped the plate of potatoes. Slowly, he turned his head to stare at her.

Unfazed, Arizona asked, “Wouldn’t that just make things more unpleasant?”

Oh, God. No way was he prepared for this conversation. Later, maybe. After he’d had time to formulate what to say, how to reassure her. How to approach the conversation in a detached, casual… Who was he kidding?

He couldn’t discuss the size of his junk with her. Not ever.

He cleared his throat and turned back to his food prep. “Just like women, to stand around gossiping.” He could only imagine Marla’s reaction to Arizona and her uncensored ways.

“You know, I asked her for specifics, but she wouldn’t share.”

He jerked around to face her again. “You asked Marla for details about me in bed with her?”

Arizona shrugged. “She made me curious with all her moony-eyed, drooling enthusiasm.”

Curious was…maybe good. Better than fear. He considered her candor, her ease in talking to him about such private things. That had to be a sign of trust, didn’t it?

Brightening, Arizona said, “You’re thinking of telling me?”

He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t tell her a thing—not yet anyway. “Maybe later.”

“Why wait?”

He turned off the stove. “Dinner is almost ready.”

She frowned but said, “Good, because I’m starved.”

Thank God for the safer subject. “When did you last eat?”

“I don’t know.”

Never the expected answer from Arizona. One day he’d get used to that. If he knew her long enough, which was doubtful. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I had a candy bar around lunchtime.”

“Nothing since then?”

She shook her head.

“What’d you have for breakfast?”

“Coffee with you.”

His head started to pound. “Dinner the night before?”

She thought about it, then shook her head again.

Frustration edged in. “Why would you not eat?”

“I just forget sometimes.” She left her chair and approached the stove. “Can I do anything to help get the show on the road here? My stomach is growling.”

While she sniffed the pork chops, Spencer looked at the top of her head, at the shiny dark hair, the crooked part. Everything about her seemed endearing.

If a hedgehog could be endearing. “You can set the table if you want.”

“Sure thing.” Bumping him with her hip, she grinned and said, “A proper place setting is one of the things I learned in the school that Jackson sent me to. But I’m guessing you’re more into informality, right?”

“Casual works for me.” After first meeting Arizona, he’d tried to look up her background but found very little. He assumed Jackson was responsible for keeping her off the grid; it was how that elite trio worked. The less info out there, the better they liked it.

It fascinated Spencer, watching Arizona move around his kitchen, seeing her go on tiptoe to reach into cabinets. She’d again left her sneakers by the front door, and her bare feet were narrow, cute. Slender hands, small wrists.

So fundamentally female—but such a live wire and always unpredictable.

Hoping to sound cavalier, he said, “Tell me about the school.”

With no sign of offense, she said, “It was this exclusive all-girl finishing school. Real hoity-toity.” She flashed him another grin. “Not exactly my speed, but Jackson paid through the nose, so they were always nice.”

Spencer stared at her. Good God, they still had those? “You’re serious?”

“Sure.” Carrying two plates to the table, Arizona said, “I mean, no one looking for me would have thought to find me there, right?”

“I can’t imagine finding any young lady there.” But Arizona? In a structured routine meant to stuff societal rules down her throat? “What was it like?”

“Just an education, and a few classes on things like—” She swept her hand over the table. “Etiquette. Not that this setting really counts, but you get my drift.”

“You went along with that?”

“Why not? The idea was sort of twofold. I figured I could learn how to blend in, and though he didn’t say it, Jackson figured he’d have me locked down and out of trouble.” She shook her head with some fond memory. “Jackson can be a real card.”

Jackson had his sympathy. Teasing, Spencer asked, “Were you getting into trouble even then?”

She paused, made a face. “I think mostly he wanted me out of his apartment because I came on to him.”

Flattened, Spencer stood there, mute.

Arizona glanced at him. “Dumb, huh?”

“I never…” He shook himself. “You…?”

“Snap out of it, Spence. Sheesh, I didn’t expect you to get all tongue-tied over sex.”

“Sex?” Had she slept with Jackson then? A red haze gathered in his vision. That son of a—

“Keep up, will you?” She rolled her eyes. “I offered, Jackson refused, and then he was different. Maybe uncomfortable. How should I know?”

“He refused?”

Sighing, a little dreamy, Arizona said softly, “Yeah, he did.”

Suddenly he understood. “You thought to repay him, didn’t you?”

“No. Well…maybe.” She made a face. “Something like that, I guess. But Jackson had this heart-to-heart with me, and he was…kind.”

So kind that he’d packed her off to a stuffy school where she wouldn’t fit in? “Yeah, he’s a prince.”

“I know.” Still wearing that small smile, she said, “I suggested going to a school, but I didn’t expect that school. I just wanted to not be dumb, you know? But we talked about it, and I liked the idea.” She flashed him a look. “I had no idea it’d cost so much, though.”

“Jackson paid for it all?”

“Yeah. Insane, huh?” Going back to the cabinets for tableware, she said, “The way that guy blows money—”

“Think of it as an investment in your future.” If he hadn’t met Jackson, if he didn’t know him as an honorable man in love with a different woman, Spencer might have been a little jealous. Not that he had the right. Not that he even wanted to think along those lines.

But knowing that Arizona had once offered herself to the other man, he couldn’t deny the twinge of resentment. Jackson had done the right thing in turning her down.

And when the time came, he would do the right thing, too. He would do what was best for her.

“That’s almost exactly what Jackson said.”

After stirring the steamed vegetables one more time, Spencer put them in a bowl and carried them to the table. He dropped a potato and one chop on Arizona’s plate, then his own.

He had a lot more questions, but he also wanted to feed her. “What would you like to drink?”

“Milk would be good.”

Why that surprised him, he couldn’t say. “Milk it is.” As he filled her glass, he asked, “So you liked the school?”

“It was okay.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except that they tattled a lot. Their loyalty was to Jackson. I mean, he paid, so that makes sense. But still, I couldn’t even dodge out for a day or two without them telling him.”

Keeping himself in check, Spencer asked, “Why did you dodge out?”

“I get restless.” She eyed her food with significance.

He joined her at the table with a glass of iced tea. “Go ahead. Dig in.”

She surprised him again by showing impeccable manners. She put her napkin in her lap, cut a small piece of her pork chop, chewed quietly.

He took great pleasure in watching her. “Good?”

“Mmm. Delicious.” Her bright gaze went over him. “Sex, cooking, kicking as—er, butt. Is there anything you aren’t good at?”

“Good catch.” She’d almost cursed—and then she would have owed him that kiss. Refusing to acknowledge his disappointment, Spencer forked up a big bite of buttered baked potato. “Don’t take Marla’s word on the sex. As for kicking butt, I can hold my own, but I’ve gotten my fair share of bruises.”

“And modest, too.” She finished another bite. “Why shouldn’t I take Marla’s word?”

“You said it yourself, she has me in her sights. Wouldn’t do her much good to insult me, now, would it?”

“I guess not. But it was more than that. She made it sound like you were something special. Something more than—”

“So…” Finding it prudent to interrupt, Spencer asked, “What did you mean by blending in?”

She stalled, then her slender shoulder rolled. “What did I know of polite society? Even before I got caught up with the traffickers, my family was not what you’d call normal.”

“What would you call them?” he asked gently.

“Hmm. Well, my momma was mostly okay, I guess, except that she drank too often, and she put up with daddy and his cronies. And I can’t tell you much about my dad since I can’t curse.” She grinned. “Let’s just say he wouldn’t win any awards for father of the year.”

“That leaves open a whole lot of possibilities.”

“Yeah, well, figure the worst, and that was my father.” She lifted her glass of milk in salute.

The worst was…awful. But then, he’d already guessed as much.

She didn’t give him time to sympathize. “After the traffickers had me, well, you know how it goes. You get the bare minimum of everything.”

Minimum care, shelter…and food. His heart hurt. “No milk?”

“Not unless a customer gave it to me. And then I always figured it might be drugged or something. There was no real contact with the outside world except during a deal, so I had no way of staying up on current affairs. In other words, I was dumber than a rock, uneducated, uncouth… Even you noticed the way I talk, right?”

Guilt swamped him. The last thing she needed from him was criticism. “I know you choose to be coarse, honey. It’s not that you don’t know any other way.”

“Because Jackson sent me to that school. End of story.”

But it wasn’t and he knew it. “You are far from dumb.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Because she had her last bite of food in her mouth, she just nodded.

He wanted to ask her if she’d finished the school, if she’d gotten a degree, but he feared the answer. When the opportunity presented itself, he’d ask Jackson. “All done?”

She sat back in her seat with a sigh. “That was great. Thanks. I can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me. Maybe Jackson, but that would have been before the school.”

“Your mother cooked?”

She laughed but cut it off real quick. “Not really, no.”

Pushing his plate aside and crossing his arms on the table, Spencer asked the question burning in his mind. “How did the traffickers get you?”

“You really want to hear this?”

More than anything, he wanted her to trust him. He had to think that confiding in someone else would help ease the pain she carried inside. “If you don’t mind telling me.”

“It’s not like it’s a secret. Well, I mean it is, to most people. But not to anyone who already knows me and what I do, and that I was…”

Spencer waited for her to wind down.

Bravado in place, she smirked at him. “My daddy traded me to them for drugs.”

Leveled by a dozen different emotions, most prominently rage and pity, Spencer swallowed twice. “How old were you?”

“Seventeen.” She chewed her bottom lip, lost in thought. “The older I got, the more his buddies noticed. I heard a few lewd suggestions, stuff said sort of as a joke—but not really, know what I mean?”

“Yes.” Bastards.

“I sort of grew into my looks. Pretty soon, they weren’t joking anymore.”

Jesus. He knew how it worked; human trafficking wouldn’t be profitable without buyers. But still, with it so personal, fury left him sick at heart. “Your father knew them?” Knew what they’d do with her? It couldn’t get more personal than that.

“Yeah, he knew. I think he admired them for forcing girls into prostitution.” Her lip curled. “The sick pricks.”

“What about your mother?”

Arizona shrugged. “She let him get away with a lot, including using some of the other girls, even though she knew their situation. But I guess selling me off was too much for her.” She looked down at her fork. “Unfortunately, when she tried to stop them, they killed her.”

Jesus. And that meant her father would have been a loose end. Already knowing the answer, Spencer asked, “They killed your father, too?” Had she seen it all?

“They did, and I was glad.”

So she’d had no one—not that her folks had been much to count on anyway. He had to focus on the fact that she’d eventually escaped. “How’d you get away?”

“After more than a month, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew if I ran they’d try to kill me, but…” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I was pretty much dead anyway, you know?”

He had nothing to say to that.

“We were at a truck stop, about to make a transaction, but when I saw a female trucker in an idling semi, I figured that might be my only chance.”

“You asked her for help?”

“Get real. I didn’t have time for pleasantries.” Her lips tilted in a half smile. “That poor woman. I ran over and jumped in her cab. My heart was pumping so fast and I was nearly hysterical. I locked the passenger door, and then I screamed right into her face—drive, drive, drive. Luckily for me…she did.”


CHAPTER FOUR

NO MATTER HOW SHE MADE LIGHT of it, the horror of the situation appalled Spencer. “I can imagine what she thought.”

“Yeah.” Arizona gave a soft laugh. “At first, she figured I was robbing her or something, and she looked ready to jump out of her skin. But then Jerry—”

“Jerry?”

“One of the goons hired as muscle to make sure no one got out of line.” She waved that off as unimportant. “Anyway, he came toward us, all fuming with blood in his eyes. When he pulled out his gun, she put that big rig in gear and rolled right out of there. Of course she wanted an explanation, so as soon as we’d covered a little ground, I told her a guy was trying to rape me. Not really a lie, but not the whole truth, either. I just…I couldn’t see going into all of it, you know?”

“I understand.” And he did. Too many women felt shame at what had been forced on them. Relaying details to a stranger would be painful.

“She wanted to take me to the cops, but I just wanted to be free.”

A small word—that meant so much.

“When she hit a quiet stretch of highway, I thanked her, and bailed.”

On her own? The idea of a seventeen-year-old abused girl finding shelter and safety boggled his mind. It was a wonder she’d survived—but she had, with attitude galore.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She shook her head at him. “But it was okay. Luckily it wasn’t a cold or rainy season. I boosted a car, but I still needed some paper, so I mugged a drug dealer.”

Paper, meaning money. But…she’d tangled with a dealer? “I hope that’s an exaggeration.”

“Nah. He was a little creep, and I let him think I was interested.” She snorted. “He rushed me to his room, and when he got all grabby, I snatched his gun from him.”

Hiding his horror, Spencer asked, “You shot him?”

She looked at him like he was nuts. “A gunshot would’ve drawn attention.”

And that had been her only reason for not murdering the guy? “I see.”

“I went old-school and pistol-whipped the punk.” She made a “clunk” motion with her hand. “Clubbed him right on his melon. I had to hit him twice to really put him out. The first one only dazed him. But when I left he was breathing.”

“And then you took his cash?”

“Yeah. I was hoping for enough to get food, but the dude had five C-notes!”

“Five hundred dollars?” Spencer whistled. Losing that much would put any crook into a foul mood. Thank God she’d gotten away. “You left the area?”

“Scooted right out of there, with his money and his gun.” Proud of herself, she grinned. “Within two days of running, I had a car, plenty of cash and a weapon. I headed to another town, found a place to stay. I figured what worked once would work again, so most of my spending money came from traveling to other areas and robbing drug dealers. Occasionally I cashed up by gambling.”

The idea of her besting an armed thug should have been ludicrous, but he’d seen her in action. Given her size and how she looked, she probably took plenty of guys by surprise. “You learned to fight by fighting?”

“Survival is a good teacher.” She smirked. “Back then, I preferred the gambling.”

“And now you prefer fighting?”

She didn’t answer that. “I win a lot because I’m a good cheat. I’m also a good thief, and I’m really good at picking locks.”

Because she’d spent so much time locked in.

With an effort, Spencer kept his tone neutral. “If those skills are what helped you get by, then I’m glad you had them.”

“Even though I broke into your house?”

Keeping his gaze on his tea glass, he offered, “You could have a key if you want.”

“Seriously? You trust me?”

He didn’t, not really. Not with everything. Definitely not with too much intimacy.

But with his belongings?

He met her mocking gaze. “Would you rob me?”

“No!”

“That’s what I thought. So why not give you a key?”

Skepticism kept her quiet for a long study. Finally she smiled. “That’s real big of you, Spence.”

“Spencer,” he corrected with strained patience. He knew she shortened his name whenever she got annoyed—or felt vulnerable.

“But I don’t need a key.” She turned away with feigned disinterest. “Not like I plan to come here that often.”

Probably not, but he wouldn’t mind if she did. Whether arguing with her, wrestling with her, or having dinner, he enjoyed her company. “Then feel free to break in whenever the mood strikes you.”

“Pffft.” She half laughed. “You just took all the fun out of it.”

Spencer smiled in return, but he in no way felt amused. He couldn’t imagine what kind of guts it took, or how it would shape a person, to live through what she’d described. He knew the basics from Jackson, but while she was in a talkative mood, he wanted to hear it—all of it—from her perspective.

“So how does Jackson factor in?”

“Yeah, that’s the interesting part, huh?” A little livelier now, she leaned forward and smiled at him. “See, the bastards didn’t take kindly to me getting away, but when they finally caught up to me, they didn’t want me for the usual.”

To sell, barter and abuse. Gently, he asked, “Why did they want you?”

“To teach the others a lesson—by killing me.”

Under the circumstances, Spencer let the curse pass. They were bastards—and so much more. In contrast to the awful words, Arizona’s cavalier mood made it all too clear how much it still hurt her.

“They…” She faltered, then rallied again. “They roughed me up. I tried to fight, but they tied my hands behind me, and then…” She hesitated, her brows pulling down in a small frown.

It gave him warning of the awfulness of the details she’d share. He braced himself, but not enough.

Voice quieter now, she whispered, “They tossed me over a bridge into a river.”

Air left his lungs; his muscles bunched. He’d known, but hearing it from her made it more—more vivid. “They wanted to drown you.”

She shook off the melancholy. “It was such a miserable night, storming like crazy with lightning cracking everywhere and thunder so loud, you could feel it. I was so scared that when they threw me over, I barely had the sense to stop flailing and try to land feetfirst, to suck in air before that icy water closed in around me.” Using both hands, she pushed her hair back from her face. “I pretty much figured I was dead.”

“Jesus.” His stomach bottomed out. He desperately wanted to hold her, to draw her into his lap and hug her tight and tell her…what? That nothing bad would ever happen to her again?

He knew she’d never allow that, so he settled on reaching for her hand. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”

“Yeah, pretty sucky, right?” After one brief squeeze, she pulled away. “I managed to get my head above water, but it wasn’t easy, and I knew I couldn’t do that for long. And even if I found a way to make it to shore, they’d just throw me back in again. Or shoot me.”

Imagining the panic she had to have suffered left Spencer hurting for her.

“For certain they weren’t going anywhere until they knew I was gone for good. See, they’d already told me that they needed the police to find my body. That way, they could tell the other women about it and use it as discouragement—”

“I get the picture.” And he wanted to kill them, all of them. But that satisfaction would be denied him; they were already dead.

“They weren’t counting on Jackson, though.” She propped her chin on a fist and smiled. “Poor guy just sort of stumbled onto the whole mess. I’ll never understand why, but he jumped into the thick of things, annihilated the goons, and then…”

Spencer waited.

She sighed and met his gaze. “Jackson dove in after me.”

Off a bridge during a storm into dark waters. Thank God Jackson had been there. “How many men were there?”

“Three.” She grinned with delight at Jackson’s ability. “But when I think of how he looked that night, I don’t think it would’ve mattered if there was a dozen.”

Spencer couldn’t muster even the most meager smile. “Dead?”

“Eventually.” She flapped a hand. “I don’t know if he killed them or…”

“I know about the group, hon.”

She went still, then tipped her head to study him. After a few seconds, she said, “I’m not your hon, but okay, if you know about them, then you already know none of those cretins survived that night.”

Not touching her wasn’t an option. He reached for her slender hand again and moved his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m glad.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Appearing disconcerted, she glanced down at their clasped hands, cleared her throat and eased away. “So that’s it. You already know that Chandra, the head of the ring, got away that night. Because she hadn’t been in the car or standing there on the bridge, the guys never knew she was there in the first place. I didn’t know that they’d missed her presence, so I assumed she was part of the carnage.”

“She can’t ever again hurt you.”

Arizona directed a frown at him. “Because you killed her, when it should have been my privilege.”

He said, “I’m sorry,” and he meant it.

“Well…now all of them are gone, and I’m left at loose ends.”

Her mercurial mood swings kept him guessing. Yes, he’d shot Chandra, but he’d been tracking her for his own reasons, and it was debatable who had more right to vengeance.

That she felt robbed was a sad consequence of his actions. “Ready for dessert?”

Accepting the switch from morbid history to here and now, she said, “Dessert? Seriously? You do know how to treat a gal, don’t you?”

* * *

ARIZONA WAS THINKING how nice it felt to share with Spencer. He didn’t get all mushy on her, didn’t try to console her or make a move. He listened.

And she knew he understood.

Sure, he’d done that odd hand-holding thing, but then, people did that. They touched. She’d seen it plenty of times with Jackson, Trace, Dare and their wives. She didn’t hate it, but she wasn’t crazy about it, either.

When it was Spencer doing the touching, for some reason, it affected her even more. It wasn’t intolerable, really, but…she didn’t know if she’d get used to it or not.

Then Spencer turned from the fridge—and she saw he held a small but fancy birthday cake.

Stunned, she slowly pushed back her chair and stood on suddenly wobbly legs. “What is that?”

Very matter-of-factly, he replied, “Vanilla cream cake with whipped frosting. I think it has raspberry filling between the layers.” His gaze met hers. “But there are no hidden threats, Arizona. It’s not poisoned, and I promise, it isn’t something you need to freak over.”

“I wasn’t freaking!” But she was. The urge to escape left her heart hammering.

“Bull. You look ready to run away.”

She tucked in her chin. How could he know that? And how dare he say it out loud? “I don’t run from anyone.”

He set the cake on the table in front of her and, with a smile, said, “Sometimes you should. But not now.” Standing too close, all but towering over her, he whispered, “Not ever from me.”

No way would she look at him, not while he sounded like that, all dominant, protective male. Instead she eyed the dessert. It had fancy sugared rosettes and the words “Happy Birthday!” written in pale blue frosting across the top.

A lump formed in her throat. “I told you not to do anything dumb.”

In a touch so gentle it scared her half to death, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know. That’s why I refrained from putting candles on it.”

She snorted. “I’d have…”

“What? Socked me? Thrown the cake at my face?”

“Maybe.” His close physical proximity made her jumpy. “Well, get back in your seat then if we’re going to eat this thing.”

Even though she didn’t look at him, she felt his smile. “All right.” He stepped away. “More milk? Or coffee?”

“Milk.” Now that she had some breathing room, she filled her lungs. Grudgingly, she said, “It’s a pretty cake. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He refilled her glass. “And for the record, in case you want to reciprocate, my birthday is right before Thanksgiving.”

Even knowing he teased, Arizona imagined how it’d be. Buying a cake for someone, sharing that special day…like she was doing right now.

Such a normal thing to do. “Yeah, okay.”

His smile widened. “I’ll hold you to that.” Using a cake server with a cow-shaped handle, he cut into the cake and put a big piece on a plate for her.

Maybe it was the “not knowing” that made her so anxious, but she couldn’t refrain from trying to dissect his objective. “I told you how I made Jackson that offer.”

Spencer looked up from cutting his own piece of the fancy cake. “The offer of…?”

“Sex.” Giving Spencer a furtive glance, she added, “And he turned me down flat. You know why?”

Nodding, his tone solemn, he said, “You offered out of obligation.”

She’d hoped to again take Spencer off guard with her candid speaking, but this time he rolled with the punches. “He’d done so much for me.” And Spencer wanted to do things for her, too. But why? “Too much.”

Seconds ticked by while he watched her. “I doubt Jackson saw it that way.”

She knew exactly how Jackson saw it. “He felt…pity for me.”

Spencer shook his head. “No.”

“Well, it wasn’t about the rescue.” In a rush, she put voice to the turmoil of her thoughts. “He rescued Alani, too, but that didn’t bother him. He chased her like crazy. That’s because he didn’t pity her.”

Unconvinced, Spencer rubbed his upper lip as he measured his words and, after some hesitation, finally said, “I feel pity for what you suffered, Arizona, for all that was done to you. But I don’t pity you, because I can see you’re a survivor, not a victim.”

Heart pumping hard, she locked gazes with him. “So…you want to have sex with me?”

More hesitation, and then with a shrug, “I’m breathing, aren’t I?”

The words raked over her nerves like talons, stealing her breath and her nerve. “So—”

“Wanting you, and planning to do anything about it, are two very different things. There are a lot of things I want, but men, good men, control themselves. They don’t abuse others, or—God forbid—take by force.” He reached out a hand, palm up, and waited for her to accept him.

Though it felt cowardly, she…couldn’t. She shook her head and crossed her arms tight around herself.

Letting his hand rest on the table, he accepted her decision without comment. “I can’t deny that you’re a beautiful girl—”

“Woman.” Appalled at herself, Arizona bit her lip. Hard. Idiot. “I’m legit now,” she stammered and felt even more foolish. “That’s all I meant.”

“You’re a twenty-one-year-old woman,” he agreed. “And you’re stunning.”

“Stunning.” She made a mocking face. “Whatever.” But she kind of liked that, after all the creeps who’d admired her, Spencer found her appealing, too.

“Most men who look at you are going to admire you, Arizona. And yes, they’ll want you. They’ll think about seeing you naked, about having sex with you. It’s how men’s minds work. We’re visual, and we’re sexual. But that’s not a curse.”

Good God. Talk about blunt. “Sure feels like a curse to me!”

“Even if you were willing, nothing like that will happen between us. Not because I pity you,” he stressed, “but because you’re too young for me, you’ve been through too much to totally understand what you want or need, and you don’t entirely trust me.”

And he was still in love with his wife.

But Arizona wasn’t cruel enough to say that to him. Instead, she touched the cow-shaped handle on the serving knife. “I’m guessing your wife bought this?”

Drawing back, he stared at her—and shut down.

Undeterred, Arizona said, “It looks like the kind of stuff a wife would buy. A good wife, I mean.”

Picking up his fork, he dug into his cake. “What would a bad wife buy?”

“Drugs. Alcohol. I don’t know. That kind of stuff.”

He paused. “Arizona…”

“Will you tell me about her?”

He took two slow breaths and shook his head. “Eat your cake.”

“It’s almost too pretty to eat.” The sugar crystals on the flowers glittered. Between the layers, pinkish raspberry cream dripped out. She scooped up a big bite, ate it and groaned. “Oh, yeah. It tastes even better than it looks.”

She was almost done with the piece of cake when he said, “I know you went through my background.”

There’d be no point in denying it. “Yeah, well—”

“I don’t mind. I attempted to go through yours, too.”

He wouldn’t have found much—but she had. She knew all about his wife, how she’d died, and how he’d avoided any commitments since then.

But she wanted to know more. She wanted to know the small things, the nuances that made a man and woman stay together. Stay in love. Enjoy intimacy. “So you’ll tell me about her?”

Spencer took another drink of coffee and then set the cup down quietly. “No.”

Arizona tried to quell her curiosity, but he’d been so nosy, why shouldn’t she ask? It had been three years, after all. “Was she pretty?”

Slowly closing his eyes in a gesture of resignation, he put his forehead on a fist. He looked like he’d fallen asleep, but then he said, “She was pretty.”

Feeling absurdly blessed that he’d take part in the conversation, Arizona warmed. “I saw a small picture,” she volunteered. “But I couldn’t tell much.”

“Long brown hair.” He straightened in his seat again. “Not as dark or wavy as yours. Brown eyes. Fair-skinned.”

“Stacked?”

Shaking his head, he said, “Understated.” Done with his cake, he left the table and carried his plate to the sink.

Arizona wolfed down the rest of hers and joined him. “I can do the dishes.”

“I’ll only rinse and put them in the dishwasher.”

“Oh.” He bumped into her, gave her a level look, and with an expression of apology, she moved to the side. But not too far away. “She was your first love?”

“She was…everything.”

He made it sound as if he planned to be single the rest of his life, or as if he assumed he’d never fall in love again. “You married young?”

“Right after she finished college.” He closed the dishwasher. Keeping his back to her, his hands braced on the sink, arms stiff, he said, “She was two years younger than me. A dental assistant with a quirky sense of style, as you can tell by all the cow decor everywhere.”

“I like it.” It made everything feel real homey. “It’s a nice house.” Older, small but very neat, with hardwood floors, cove ceilings and tall baseboards.

Spencer nodded. “She loved this house. Loved being married, too, and she loved me. Eventually, she wanted kids. We were thinking another year or so, but then…”

Then her life had been cut short. Taking a cue from Spencer, Arizona tentatively touched his arm, and waited.

As if the gesture surprised him, Spencer stalled but only for a moment. “She stopped at a convenience store one night on her way home from work. Two men—”

“Part of a human trafficking ring,” she supplied, knowing that from the background check she’d done on him.

“Yeah. They were trying to drag a woman out of there, my wife intervened…”

His hands fisted, and Arizona, feeling really, really awkward, moved her hand from his arm to his back. “I’m sorry.”

“A store clerk died that day, too. Another customer was injured.”

“Senseless. But that’s how it always is. Senseless and cruel and—”

He stepped away from her. “Enough about that.”

Her hand dropped. “You got the guys who shot her.”

“I did. But they were only a small part of a bigger operation.” He squared off with her. “I had as much right to go after Chandra as you did.”

Chandra had been the brains behind that particular ring. Arizona knew, since it was Chandra who’d caught her, twice. Chandra who’d trafficked her. Chandra who’d arranged her street education.

Chandra who’d tried to kill her.

“That’s sort of what I was thinking, actually.” Arizona leaned back on the counter. “We have that in common, when usually I don’t have anything in common with anyone. Since we both want the same things, I’d be willing to forgive how you robbed me of personal justice, if we work together.”

On alert, Spencer took a stance and scowled at her. “We are working together. The Green Goose, right? That’s what you’re talking about?”

“Yeah, the bar and grill.” She tried not to look unsure of herself. “But we could do more than that if you wanted. I could find trafficking rings, do some background on them, and you could be my muscle.”

His eyes narrowed—not a promising sign.

“You’re up for it, right?” Trying for a joke, Arizona reached out and squeezed his upper arm.

Solid with strength. And she knew firsthand about his fast reflexes.

No doubt about it: Spencer was a big bundle of raw power and astounding ability. She admired strength a lot. In his case…maybe too much.

Crossing her arms, she tried really hard to look and sound unaffected. “So, Spence. What do you say? You want to partner up with me on a more permanent basis?”


CHAPTER FIVE

“IT’S SPENCER, AND YOU KNOW IT.” He took her arm and started her toward the living room. “Why do you insist on butchering my name?”

“Actually…I don’t know.” She put on her brakes. “Where are we going?”

“I figured we’d watch some television. Maybe a movie or something.”

After a big yawn, she pulled free. “I need to get going. Burning the candle at both ends has me more tired than usual. I need some shut-eye.”

Shit. He glanced at his watch. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

“Early to bed, early to rise and all that.” She started for the front door and her shoes.

“You get up early?”

“I get up whenever I wake. And more often than not, I can’t sleep. So—”

“Why can’t you sleep?”

Impatient, she glanced back at him. “I’ll tell you all about my sleeping habits—tomorrow.” She bent and pulled on first one unlaced sneaker, then the other.

Arizona had “sloppy” down to a fine art. But it was a look that complemented her attitude. “We still need to talk about the Green Goose. How are we going in, what time, every little detail.” Had Trace already disabled her car? She wanted to leave sooner than he’d anticipated—not that anyone could accurately anticipate anything with Arizona. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

“I’ve got some ideas for that. We can talk about it tomorrow morning.” Her mouth curled in an acerbic smile. “Or do you have plans with Marla?”

Ignoring that, he said, “Why the big rush?”

She opened the door. “Told you. I’m tired.”

Hot, humid air, thick with the threat of a storm, blasted him as he followed her out. He needed to think of a way to stall her.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so touchy discussing his past… But no, he couldn’t go there. As an alternative, he asked, “Where are you staying?”

Without looking at him, she said, “Just a motel.”

Suspicions bloomed. “What motel?”

“A random dive.” Halfway down the sidewalk, she glanced over at Marla’s house. “Should you be dogging my heels like this? You know your girlfriend probably has her nose to the window, watching your every move.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He glanced that way, too, and saw a shadow shift from the window. Damn. Catching Arizona before she reached her car, he said, “Forget Marla. Why are you dodging the question?”

“What question?”

He growled out an impatient breath. “The question about where you’re staying.”

“I wasn’t.” She opened her car door to let out the heat and then leaned on the fender. “Thing is, you haven’t yet agreed to be my partner, so why should I tell you anything?”

“Blackmail?”

Her eyes, now bright with mischief, looked even bluer out in the natural light. “Coercion.”

Tension mounted in the back of his neck. He rubbed a knotted muscle, but it didn’t help. “I’ll think about the partnership thing.” And he’d talk to Trace and Dare…

“Yeah.” Her gaze went to his hand. “You do that.”

With nothing else to say, Spencer stepped back, and she got into her car. “Whenever you wake up is a pretty loose time frame. Can’t you narrow it down a little?”

She put the key in the ignition. “I don’t know. Let’s say between 5:00 a.m. and noon.”

Would she sneak in again and watch him sleep? Not like he’d even be able to sleep with that possibility looming.

He gripped the frame of the open window. “I can track you down, you know. I can find out where you’re staying.”

“You think so?” She turned the key—and nothing happened. With a frown, she said, “We’ll see.”

And she tried the car again.

Dead. Completely.

Relieved, Spencer stepped back, wondering how she’d react.

It was something to see, the way her brows pulled down, her eyes glittered, and angry color flooded her face. She pumped the gas, tried again and, after visibly gathering steam, opened her car door and stepped out. She slammed her door. Hard.

It didn’t take a genius to see she was pissed. Really pissed. The darkening sky had nothing on her.

Deadpan, he asked, “Car won’t start?”

Her locked teeth sawed together. “Let’s go.”

Fascinating. He’d never seen a woman as visually expressive as Arizona. “Where to, exactly?”

“Back inside.” She headed that way but said over her shoulder, “Unless you want me to lose it out here, for all your nice, domestic neighbors to witness.”

“Inside it is.” A little amused, a lot pleased, he trailed behind her.

Unfortunately, Marla stepped out to her porch. Wearing a low-cut top and a look of censure, she opened her mouth, and Arizona swung around to her, snarling, “Don’t.” She sucked in a breath. “Just…don’t.” After that dire warning, she stormed on into his house.

Marla stood there looking hurt.

Double damn. Apologetic, Spencer said to her, “Sorry. She’s having a bad day.”

Marla’s impressive chest heaved a little. “I suppose she’ll have a better night?”

“Marla,” he chided. “I told you it wasn’t like that—for you or her.”

She gathered herself. “I don’t understand you.”

“You do, you just don’t want to.”

“It was good between us.”

“Yes.” And maybe if he hadn’t met Arizona…but he had. “I need to go.”

“Wait!” She licked her lips. “Do you think it’s going to storm?”

With a quick glance at the sky, he said, “Probably.” He knew right where this was going. “Your roof’s still leaking?”

“Yes.” She leaned on the railing, deliberately giving him an eyeful of cleavage. “It’s the ceiling in my bedroom. Any…suggestions?”

“Yeah. Put out a few buckets—and call a repairman as soon as you can. With these old roofs, they’re as likely to cave in as leak.” He’d have felt guilty for not offering any real help, except that her roof had been bad since winter, and she didn’t repair it because she’d rather use it as a female ploy to get him back in bed.

Giving her a salute, Spencer went in. He’d barely gotten the door shut before Arizona was there, rising on tiptoe to blast him.

* * *

IN BATTLE MODE, Arizona jabbed him hard in the chest with one finger. “You told Jackson!”

“No.” With his good mood quickly souring, he stepped around her.

She grabbed his arm. “You did! You said something to him, and that’s why he disabled my car.”

Infusing iron in his tone, Spencer said, “You realize you’re calling me a liar, right?”

But she was too angry to relent. “I trusted you!”

“Baloney! You’re about as trusting as a junkyard dog.”

She gasped.

“But I did not tell Jackson, and I’d appreciate it if you’d quit yelling like a kid having a temper tantrum!”

Since he’d ended with his own yelling, the insult was ludicrous at best.

Fury colored her face and kept her eyes narrowed. “Okay, fine. Let’s just see.” And for an additional dig, she said, “Jackson will tell me the truth.”

“You’re going to call him?” That worked fine by him. She’d be the one to let her erstwhile protector know the score, and at the same time she’d learn the truth. Spencer gestured at her. “Feel free.”

“I will!” She dug out her cell phone from her back pocket and hit a speed dial number.

Because he didn’t want to miss a word, Spencer said, “Dare you to put it on speaker phone.”

“Feeling nosy?” she sneered.

“I don’t trust you to admit to my acquittal.” He almost smiled, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist his taunt. “Or are you afraid of what I’ll hear?”

* * *

“HA!” KEEPING HER ANGRY GAZE locked on his, Arizona hit the speaker button. Her car was dead, and she knew it wasn’t by accident. She’d been around Jackson too long to miss the signs of interference.

Because she hadn’t used the emergency number, Jackson answered with a greeting, instead of silence. “Hey, Arizona. What’s up?”

At the sound of his voice, she brightened with triumph. “What did you do to my car?” Did they really think they could bully her? That she was too dumb to recognize how they worked? Fat chance. She wasn’t an idiot.

“What’s that?” A new alertness entered Jackson’s tone. “Something’s wrong with your car?”

Uh-oh. He sounded pretty sincere. “No use denying it,” she pressed. “I know you disabled it somehow.”

“Not me. Alani and I are at dinner with Dare and Molly.” And then with suspicion, “Where did you say you are?”

Crap. Was it possible that the car’s battery had died somehow? It didn’t seem likely.

“Arizona?”

Deflated, she admitted, “I’m at Spencer’s.”

“Yeah?” A smile sounded through the call. “Doing what?”

“Never mind.” Oh, this was awkward. And Spencer looked so smug. “My car won’t start. It’s totally dead. You sure you didn’t tamper with it?”

“Why would I? What are you up to— Oh, wait.”

She heard muted voices, a brief conversation, and then Jackson came back on the line. “Reckon it was Trace.” And before she could get riled about that, he said, “Why didn’t you remind me that it was your birthday?”

No! No, no, no. How did he realize it now? She groaned, long and dramatic.

“Stop that,” Jackson said. “You should have told me. More to the point, I should have remembered.” His voice deepened. “I’m sorry that I’ve been distracted.”

“Don’t.” Her throat closed up. She absolutely would not look at Spencer. “You’re getting married, for crying out loud. You’re going to be a dad. You have enough on your mind already.”

“That’s not a good excuse.”

She needed to end this, and fast. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t.”

Time to shoot off in a new direction. “What did Dare tell you? Why does he think it was Trace?”

“Spencer talked to Trace.”

Aha! “That—”

“And Trace told Dare. But no one told me because you swore everyone to secrecy, and I have to tell you, that annoys the hell out of me.”

“Oh. Umm…” She could practically feel Spencer gloating. “Yeah, about that. It’s just that I…”

“You were supposed to be researching, hon. For me. You were not supposed to branch off on your own.”

“Well, I…”

“Don’t compound it now by fibbing to me.” He laughed as he said that, removing any real insult. “I’m glad you’re there with Spencer, and I’m doubly glad you had enough sense to get him involved rather than charging into a mess alone.”

“I’m nothing if not cautious.” Even she winced at the sarcasm.

“Yeah. Cautious. That’s exactly how I’d describe you.”

“Jackson—”

He cut her off to say, “Trace dicked with your car because he wants you to stay put, so that’s what you’ll do.” He spoke over her again before she could get started. “Otherwise I’ll have to uproot my tired butt from this nice dinner with my pregnant fiancée and friends, and you know you don’t want me to do that.”

No, she didn’t. Turning her back on Spencer, she whispered, “I can’t stay here.”

Obtuse to the bitter end, Jackson asked, “Why not?”

Almost at the same time, Spencer said, “Why not?”

She groaned again. Men! “I don’t want to, that’s why.”

Jackson discounted her reasoning. “C’mon, Arizona. You know that once you start snooping, you have to cover your ass. That means you have to alter your routine, avoid your normal stomping ground, and for certain you can’t go back to whatever hole-in-the-wall you were using to bed down. That’s not how it’s done, honey.”

Yeah, she knew that. She had planned to hop to another motel for the night. She even had her overnight bag in the car. “I’m not dumb, you know.”

“Definitely not. But you are jumping the gun. Any operation requires planning.” There was more muted conversation before Jackson laughed and came back to her. “Dare says that Trace has it under wraps, and before you feel guilty about that, he says it’s a job they’d already started before you tripped in.”

“Really?” That got her intrigued. “So I was right? It’s a cover for a trafficking ring?”

“Most likely, but it’s too soon to know for sure, and it’s definitely too soon to tip our hand. The sting is still in preliminary research.” His voice lowered. “Put Spencer on the phone.”

“No.” Hell, no.

“Arizona…”

Her shoulders were so stiff, they ached. “I don’t need anyone to babysit me. I’m fine.”

“You’ll stay put?”

“Mmm…maybe.” It’d depend on what Spencer said and what he had planned. The men might be world-class protectors, but she knew she could look after herself.

Jackson sighed and then said, “Hang on, hon.”

Seconds later, Spencer’s cell phone rang. He grinned at her as he answered.

Un-freaking-believable.

And his phone wasn’t on speaker, so she could only hear one side of the conversation.

Spencer said, “Yeah, hey. Sure. That’s what I figured.” He nodded. “Do my best, that’s all I can promise. Yeah, okay. I would’ve done that anyway.”

Arizona thought her hair might stand on end. When Jackson came back, she growled, “Satisfied?”

“Getting there.” And in a lower voice, “Happy birthday, honey.”

Oh. Heat rushed up her neck. “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

“I promise I won’t forget again.”

She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t men supposed to forget that stuff?”

“No.”

Sheesh, did he have to sound so offended? “Look, don’t sweat it, okay? Spencer got a cake and everything.”

“Everything?” He didn’t even try to hide his amusement. “Well, I owe you a gift, and no, don’t argue. Alani will enjoy helping me pick it out. We’ll hook up soon, okay?”

Feeling desperate, she was quick to say, “Not necessary, Jackson. I know you’re busy with your wedding prep and—”

Again, he paid no attention to her protests. “We’ll invite Spencer. Dare said this weekend would work at his house. What do you think?”

Oh, Gawd! He’d cornered her. “Look, I don’t—”

“Great. Saturday at two. Bring a bathing suit and we’ll hang at the lake. Do it up picnic style. Sound good?” Before she could answer, he said, “So we’re all set. But now I need to go before my steak gets cold.”

She wanted to deny him and his weekend plans, but she didn’t want to keep him from his meal. “Okay, fine.” She was such a dolt. Somehow she’d find a way around things—especially the bathing suit part of it all. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“You didn’t.” There was a slight hesitation and then: “Love ya.”

Happiness filled her heart. She swallowed back a swell of emotion. Keeping her back to Spencer, she said, “Love you, too.”

After she pocketed the phone, she had no idea what to do. The moment was so awkward that she wanted to crawl off and hide.

Then Spencer said, “Told you so.”

His self-righteous tone brought her snapping around. “You told Trace!”

He shrugged that off. “But only Trace…so you owe me an apology.”

She opened her mouth to blast him…and then shut it again. Yeah, she did owe him. Grudgingly, she muttered, “Sorry.”

His hand touched her chin, lifted her face. “I won’t ever lie to you, Arizona.”

Not for a second would she believe that. “Everyone lies. Big lies, little lies. No one is honest all the time.”

“Including you?”

Especially her. She folded her arms under her breasts. “When necessary, I fudge things.”

“I won’t. Not with you.”

Feeling herself waffle, Arizona looked around, wondering what to do now. Humiliation rolled over her. She’d disrupted everyone with her plans, when she’d really only wanted to disrupt Spencer.

That truth made her frown at herself.

He thought the frown was directed at him. “I had to tell Trace. You’re smart, Arizona. You know that.”

“And you knew that Trace would tell Jackson.”

He crossed his arms, mimicking her stance. “You’re distorting the facts. Trace said he wouldn’t tell Jackson, and he didn’t. He told Dare. And Dare didn’t tell Jackson until you called up and spilled the beans. So exonerate me. I held to my end of the bargain—so far as I could, anyway.”

She shook her head in denial—but it was true. Somehow, deep down, she’d known he would alert the others. “Why do you guys have this sick need to protect misfits?”

“Is that it?” He put his big hands on her shoulders. He didn’t draw her closer, he just offered…support. “You’re concerned about what Trace will think?”

“I know what he thinks. That I’m pathetic and I need a keeper.”

He gave her a speculative look. “You’ve met Priss, Trace’s wife.”

“Yeah, so?” Priss was self-confident and funny, and Trace loved her a lot.

“Priss’s life wasn’t all roses, you know. Actually, no roses, just thorns.”

The boys had been talking, it seemed. Had Jackson told Spencer about Priss? Had he told him about Dare’s wife, Molly, too? “What’s your point?”

“I told Trace because we need backup if we’re going to do this—”

“We are.” He couldn’t change his mind on her now. She needed to stay busy, and she needed to feel as if she made a difference.

And…she kind of liked being around Spencer—but she wasn’t about to admit it to him.

“Trace understands what you’re going through.” He gave her a gentle shake. “You and Priss have a lot in common. And if you think he pities his wife, you haven’t seen the two of them together.”

“I’ve seen them.” While Jackson was easygoing—most of the time—Trace could be very heavy-handed. Yet Priss matched him in every way. Anyone could see that pity was the last thing Trace felt for Priss. “They make a nice couple.”

“Yes, they do.” His thumbs rubbed over her shoulders. “Fact is, you’re looking at this all wrong. You’re so busy defending your independence, and bearing that massive chip on your shoulder, that you’ve forgotten how it’s done.”

“It?”

“The whole undercover, covert, infiltration gig. You think Jackson ever approaches these situations alone? Or Trace or Dare? They always work as a team.”

For him to know that, they had to have done a lot of talking. Did Jackson really trust him so much? Apparently.

She raised her chin. “You don’t.”

“Until recently, I hadn’t tampered in their league. The busts I made as a bounty hunter were small beans in comparison to what they do. But now, with human trafficking rings that have reach across the country, even out of the country, you can bet your sweet little butt that I wouldn’t get in too deep without knowing someone else was on board, watching to make sure neither of us disappears.”

Because that all made sense, Arizona paced away—and immediately felt the loss of Spencer’s touch.

Standing where she’d left him in the middle of the floor, he waited.

She knew she’d relent. Heck, she didn’t even want to go. Not really. But she wasn’t quite ready to tell him that yet. “What did Jackson say to you?”

“He wanted me to follow you if you left, and to tail you all night if necessary.” When her eyes widened, he added, “And I would have. I will—if you don’t stay.”

Going to the window, Arizona watched the rain start to fall. If she was going to get her bag, she should do it now.

From right behind her, his tone compelling, Spencer said, “Stay.”

“You said you wouldn’t lie.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay, then…” Turning to face him, she asked in a rush, “If you’re not trying to have sex with me, then why are you doing all this? Why are you being so…concerned and caring, and protective and understanding and stuff?”

“All that?” A smile flickered over his mouth. “Okay, the truth. I want you to see a better way of things. I want you to be able to move on—”

Move on? “As in, be with some dude? Seriously?” The idea was so ludicrous, she laughed. “What, like in a marriage and all that? Not happening.”

“Doesn’t have to be marriage.” His gaze moved over her face to her mouth and then back to her eyes. “Could just be a date.”

“And you think dates are fun?”

He drew a short breath. “Most of the time, sure.”

“You’ve had dates with Marla?”

“Ah…no.”

“Just sex, huh?”

“Arizona…”

“And sex is fun?”

His gaze locked on hers. “Yes.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

Face muscles tightened as he flexed his jaw. “What do you want to know?”

So many things, she hardly knew where to begin. “Is it the same with Marla as it was with your wife?”

His eyes darkened with disbelief and, maybe, sadness. “If you mean are women interchangeable, no. Not to good men. Not when a man cares about a woman.”

That riled her. “So you care about Marla?”

“Not at all like I cared about my wife, no. But as a nice person, yes, of course I do.” Putting his hands on his hips, he dropped his head forward, then gave in to a short laugh. “God, this is an awkward conversation.”

She didn’t care. He offered to explain, and she wanted to hear it, so she waited.

After releasing a long breath, he met her gaze again. “I was up front with Marla. I didn’t lead her on. I haven’t led on any woman.”

Including her? His bet would curtail her language—but gain him a kiss if she slipped up. Was that really all he wanted? “So with Marla, it was sex, but only sex, huh?”

“It’s not always about love.”

“Boy, do I know that!”

“Sometimes,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “the pleasure is enough.”

“If you say so.” She had her doubts about any real pleasure, though. She sure hadn’t experienced it. “So how many women have there been?”

He made a sound of disgust. “They were few and far between. But I am a grown man, Arizona.”

So defensive. Sharp with derision, she said, “And you have needs?”

“Everyone has those needs—including you.” When she started to shake her head, he cut her off. “You do. And that brings us full circle. You know about abuse, but you don’t know anything about the real give-and-take that’s supposed to happen between the sheets.”

“Not always between the sheets.”

He paused. “No.” He took a step closer, then stopped himself. “There are all kinds of sexual encounters, in lots of different places.”

“And different positions?”

“Positions that you should enjoy.” He reached out, but instead of touching her, he pulled back and ended up rubbing the back of his neck. “Only it doesn’t start with sex.”

“No?”

“It starts with an attraction. A mutual attraction.”

“Can’t prove it by me.”

His gaze searched hers, his voice deepened. “I know. That’s my point.”

There was such gravity in his tone, she rolled her eyes. “Go on. Mutual attraction?” she prompted.

Slowly, he nodded. “Flirting, kissing, a touch or two. Foreplay for an hour, or a day. Wanted by both people, and shared by both people.”

That did sound sort of…not awful. “I know that’s how it’s supposed to be.” She wasn’t a total social misfit. She’d seen romantic movies, and she’d seen real life. People walking together, talking together. In sync.

In love.

But he’d just negated the link between love and sex, and she wasn’t sure she could ever trust in casual sex.

Almost as if he’d read her thoughts, he said softly, “It can be really good when both people are willing, eager participants.”

“And you think I need to experience that, huh?”

“You’re a healthy, energetic woman. I’d hate to see deliberate cruelty turn you off from knowing everything that nature intended.”

For reasons she wouldn’t analyze, his attitude irked her. “So let me get this straight. You want to do things to me, to get me all into the idea of screwing—and then you want me to go off to find some other guy to finalize the deal?” She smirked at him. “Know what, Spence? From my side of the table, that sort of makes you sound like a pimp. Only problem is, I can’t figure out what you get from the deal.”


CHAPTER SIX

WITH HER BREAKING DOWN his motives to the basest purpose, Spencer had to admit that it did sound bad. God knew he didn’t want to send her off to anyone else. The thought of another man touching her left him raw with anger.

But he wasn’t the man for her. Even if the age difference didn’t exist, she deserved someone who’d be involved for the long haul. She deserved someone with a sunny outlook on life.

Not only was he opposed to settling down again, he was about as far from optimistic as a man could get.

“I wasn’t trying to coerce you into having sex with anyone.” What he wanted most was for her to not be…damaged. But he sure as hell couldn’t say anything that stark to her. “What I’d really like is to break down those walls so you can let in people who care about you.” He tried a smile that she didn’t return. “All in all, you can be a pretty likable woman.”

With one hand flattened to his chest, she pushed him back a step and moved out from between him and the window. “Whatever. If I’m staying over, I want Trace to fix my car.”

The quick turnaround surprised him. “You’ll stay put?” With me.

She made a gesture of indifference. “For now.”

“Then I’ll let Trace know.” And they could all help keep an eye on her.

Her eyes narrowed. She hesitated, then she turned away. “I better go get my stuff.”

It’d take time to convince her of his motives. Spencer accepted that, so he allowed the change of topic. “What stuff?”

“My duffel and laptop case. I’m not as dumb as you and the big macho boys want to believe.” She opened the front door, and a heavy gust of wind carried a smattering of rain in around her. “Ho boy, look at those purple storm clouds blowing in.”

Spencer closed the door. He could see why she’d keep the laptop close. But the other? “You brought an overnight bag with you?”

“Yeah, see, I had no intention of going back to my motel room tonight.”

That surprised him, but he was pleased with her forethought, especially since she’d made the plans to protect herself, not someone else. He had a feeling that Arizona deliberately put herself at risk far too often.

Given the downpour, he caught her arm and moved her away. “I’ll get your things for you.”

“I don’t melt.”

Already rain dampened the front of her T-shirt and left her face dewy.

Physically, she was the most tempting woman he’d ever met. He didn’t want to test his resolve by seeing her in soaked clothes that would cling to her shapely little body.

But beyond that, he worried. The sky had darkened, and he felt the turbulence in the air. Soon the rain would be a full-fledged storm—just like the night she’d been bound and thrown into a river, a night she would have died…and been forgotten.

Suffused with emotion, he eased a damp tendril of hair away from her cheek. “It looks like the rain will turn into a storm.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than a flash of lightning cut across the darkening sky. Seconds later, thunder crashed down, rattling the windows.

Arizona smiled at his apprehension. “You think it’ll bother me, don’t you?”

He was afraid she’d be pulled into nightmarish memories. “Given what you went through, I’d understand if it did.”

“Yeah.” This time when she put her hand on his chest, Spencer suspected it was just to have contact. “You’d think it would spook me some, huh?”

Grateful that he had her with him, Spencer covered her hand with his own. Despite all her brass, she was small-boned and delicate. “Will it?”

She laughed. “You know what I always think of during stormy weather? How Jackson saved me that night. Up until then, life was something I had to bear. But after that, everything turned around for me.” She stroked him once and dropped her hand. “Truthfully, I love storms.”

Jackson had given her a new lease on life, and yet, she still wasn’t comfortable with that life. Given half a chance she’d take on the world and to hell with the consequences. She recognized that Jackson put value on her life—but she didn’t share that sentiment…yet.

One way or another, he planned to turn that around.

With more resolve than ever, Spencer moved her away from the door. “Sorry, honey, but I’m a gentleman. I’ll get your things, end of conversation.”

For several seconds, he watched as she considered fighting him over it. He knew the second she relented. “Fine, you want to get soaked? Suit yourself.” She handed him her keys. “Everything is in the trunk. Blue duffel and a canvas laptop case. But don’t you dare touch anything else.” She turned and headed for the hall.

Now anxious to see what else she had in the trunk, Spencer dashed out the door. He was soaked within seconds of leaving the porch. Rather than cleansing the air, the rain thickened the existing hot September humidity. Steam rose from the blacktop roads, occasionally disrupted by battering winds.

Scanning the area but seeing no one and nothing amiss, Spencer unlocked the trunk.

Disbelief locked his knees; he became oblivious to the stinging rain. Among the array of survival items—water, blanket, first aid kit—neatly arranged in the trunk space, he noted a sniper rifle, night-vision binoculars, machete, bulletproof vest…shovel. In every nook and cranny she’d neatly stored weapons both common and unconventional.

Jesus. What the hell did she have planned? Or did she consider those things everyday necessities?

For fear that anyone else might see, he grabbed the duffel tucked in next to other overnight bags and the canvas case half hidden behind everything else, and slammed the trunk. Did Jackson know she carried around an arsenal? Did Trace and Dare know?

One of them could have clued him in!

Keeping both bags close to his body to protect them as much as he could from the storm, Spencer ran back up his walkway, up the porch steps and to the front door. The rain blew nearly horizontal, still hitting his back but not beating down on his head like needles.

He pried off his boots, stripped off his sodden shirt and stepped in on the foyer rug.

Arizona stood there. As she fixated on his chest, her cocky smiled faded away.

Ah, hell. He knew that look and what it meant.

Arizona might not realize it yet, but she was aware of him as a man. And damn if that didn’t spark his own heated awareness.

Spencer set her things on the floor and dropped his shoes on the rug. When he straightened again, rain dripped over his temple, down his shoulder and into his chest hair.

She stared so hard, her expression almost tactile, that he felt himself stir. He forgot his disgruntlement over her store of weapons.

Palms itching with the need to touch her, Spencer shifted. “Do you realize how you’re affecting me?”

Lashes lifting, Arizona met his gaze—and cracked a wry smile. “Sorry about that.” Though dusky color tinted her cheeks, she thrust out a towel and spoke as naturally as ever. “Thought you might want to dry off.”

“Thanks.”

Her gaze flipped back to his chest.

“Arizona?”

“You’re so darned big, and you have a really awesome bod.”

With her staring like that, he was bound to get bigger by the second. Spencer touched her chin to raise her gaze. “I think your body is appealing, too.”

Snorting, she said, “I’m not running around wet and topless.”

Thank God. Fighting a smile at his own discomfort, Spencer said, “You could give it a try—”

“Ha!” She snatched up her duffel and turned away. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to make use of your shower before the electricity goes out.”

Arizona. In his shower. Naked and soap slick…

“Make it quick,” he said to her retreating back. “It’s not safe with all the lightning—”

His bathroom door closed while he was still midsentence.

Well, hell.

With no more reason for modesty, Spencer stripped off his jeans there in the foyer and carried everything into the laundry room, where he also peeled off his boxers and socks. Wrapped in the towel, he went to the more private bath in his bedroom. His shower would be cold, and then maybe, after he’d gotten his libido under control, he and Arizona could go over their plans for tomorrow.

And with any luck, she’d trust him enough to explain the weapons in her trunk and the forbidding inclusion of a shovel.

* * *

AFTER A DRAWN-OUT SHOWER that did nothing to ease her growing tension, Arizona brushed her teeth, blow-dried her hair and dressed in a big gray T-shirt with loose-legged, pull-on shorts. Normally she slept in just a T-shirt and panties, but since she’d be sharing this night with Spencer, she made a concession for modesty.

She tidied up the bathroom again, storing her discarded clothing back in her duffel and leaving no sign that she’d been in there. Spencer wasn’t neat to the point of annoying, but he did keep things clean and uncluttered.

She loved his house, and the bathroom was especially cool with the vintage-looking black-and-white tiles. The towels matched the shower curtain matched the window covering matched the decorative pictures and knickknacks.

His wife must’ve been a real homebody. Arizona imagined her in an apron, baking cookies with a sweet smile.

No wonder Spencer loved her. No wonder, even after three years, he couldn’t get over losing her.

Knowing she’d taken up as much time as she could, Arizona stopped avoiding the inevitable and opened the bathroom door.

Barefoot, she went in search of Spencer and found him sprawled back on the couch in the living room, watching TV and drinking a longneck beer. At the sound of her approach he turned his head—and went still in that way men did while appreciating the sight of a woman.

He fought it, but his attention went over her, snagging on her legs for several heart-stopping seconds before coming back to her face.

It should have made her uncomfortable to be looked at like that. Before Spencer, it always had.

Now…now she didn’t know what she felt, but it definitely wasn’t discomfort. Spencer wasn’t like other men she’d known. He wasn’t a disgusting creep like the animals who’d taken her, or those who’d paid for her time. But he didn’t deny her sexuality, either, as Jackson, Dare and Trace tried to do.

Mostly…he just seemed to accept her. And like her.

“Hey.” She strode past him, going around the coffee table to put her duffel by the front door where he’d left her laptop case. With Spencer still watching her, she came back to plop down on the other end of the couch.

He stared toward where she’d dropped off the bag, then back to her with a question in his eyes.

Propping her feet on the edge of the table, Arizona controlled her smile and stared at the television. “So what are we watching?”

Silence tripped by. She could feel his rapt attention touching on her, all over her.

She made herself look at him with a raised brow. “Cat got your tongue?”

Shaking his head, he again glanced at her bag but apparently decided not to ask why she’d put it near the door. “Sorry.” A slight frown in place, he half turned toward her. “Want a beer?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No. My father used to swill those things like crazy.”

“It bothers you?” He sat forward as if to take the bottle away.

Arizona stopped him. “It doesn’t. Actually, I kind of like the smell, just not the taste.”

After gauging the truth in her words, he nodded. “Something else, then?”

“No, thanks. I already cleaned my teeth.” Brushing a hand over the soft material of his couch, she said, “Am I sleeping here?”

Seconds ticked by again. He sounded hoarse when he said, “Here at my house, yes.”

“I meant here, on the couch.”

“I have a guest room you can use. I would have put the laptop there, but the case was wet. I can move your things in there now, if you want.”

The idea of using the guest room didn’t appeal to her. She wasn’t really a guest so much as an intrusion. And the idea of being closed up…she fought off a shiver.

Before she could figure out how to explain her reservations, he glanced at his watch. “You ready to turn in already?”

“Not really.” Dragging a throw off the back of his couch, she slouched down against the arm and stretched her legs out toward him. She stopped short of letting her feet bump his hip. “Mind if I just get comfortable here for now?”

“Not at all.” He handed her a plump throw pillow. “Make yourself at home.” After a long hesitation, Spencer tucked the throw up and over her feet. “I mean that, Arizona. Help yourself to anything you need or want.”

“Thanks.” She bunched the pillow up at her side. “So what’s on the boob tube?”

Bemused, he glanced at the TV and then back to her. “Old MMA highlights. Did you want me to change it to something else?”

“This is good. I like the fights.” Mixed martial arts fascinated her.

Sounding more like himself, he asked, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because you already know me, that’s why.” She watched for a moment and became curious about his interest in the sport. “Do you have a favorite fighter?”

“A few.” His big hand came to rest casually on her foot. “If you’re in a talkative mood…”

Heart racing from his touch—on her foot, for crying out loud—Arizona shrugged. “Sure.”

He turned down the volume on the television. “Then let’s talk about our plans for tomorrow.”

What a buzzkill. She groaned. “I guess you’re going to insist?”

He hesitated. “You know we need to coordinate.”

Yeah, they did. To get comfortable, she turned to her back with her knees bent under the throw, her head on the pillow, and peered down the length of the couch at him. “We’ll arrive separately, you in your truck, me by bus so that we can leave together in one vehicle afterward.” She cautioned him, “Make sure you park away from the entrance, so no one will see us together afterward.”

Deadpan, he said, “Naturally.”

“I’ll go in first and grab a seat at the bar. Say, five or ten minutes later, you can come in and sit at a table.”

“Why don’t I sit at the bar?”

“Because I’ve already scoped out the place, and that’s where I sat before.” She rolled her shoulder. “It’s where I need to be to draw their attention. You can watch over things more easily, without being noticed, from the eating area.”

He didn’t look happy about it, but he agreed. “I’m not going to wait that long before coming in, though.”

Why did he sound annoyed already? “So come in earlier, then. Just be discreet.”

His thumb moved over the arch of her foot, nearly stopping her heart. “This isn’t my first rodeo, honey.”

She wasn’t his honey, but… “What are you doing?”

“What?”

She nodded at her feet.

As if he hadn’t been aware of the touch himself, he looked down at his hand and then stroked with his thumb again. “This?” He drew both her feet up to his thigh. “You’re tense.”

She was, but she thought she’d hidden it. “Yeah, well…”

“You don’t like it?” He pressed, rubbed, worked her arches in a deep, firm massage.

And she wanted to melt. Felt like parts of her did melt. “Mmm. I like it.”

Spencer stilled again, his gaze piercing, hot. “Never had a foot-rub before?”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“So relax and enjoy.”

It was a bit too personal, but she liked it too much to make him quit. “Knock yourself out.” She drew a breath and tried to get them back on track. “Okay, so you know to ignore me when you come into the place, right?”

“If I did that, they’d suspect something.” Setting aside the beer, he half turned toward her and, keeping his gaze on her face, worked over her feet more thoroughly.

Bone-melting pleasure stole her breath.

Watching her, Spencer said softly, “No red-blooded man is going to miss noticing you, Arizona, so forget that idea. I’ll give you the same attention every other guy in the place will be doling out. Think you can handle that?”

With her heavy eyelids at half-mast, she snuggled farther into his couch. “Sure.”

He half smiled. “Just so you know, I might have to pretend interest in other women, too.”

That brought her out of her slumberous trance. “Why?”

“Because if the place is what we think it is, they’re liable to parade out the wares. If I’m not picking up the cues, they’ll pull back and we’ll lose an opportunity.”

He was right, damn him. She wouldn’t think about it now, and tomorrow…she’d deal with it. “Fine, whatever.” Her toes curled at his renewed touch. “Once you’re in the bar for backup, I’ll drop a few casual questions, maybe flirt a little, go for the helpless look. You know, all in all I’ll make myself seem like easy pickings.”

“You’ve done that before?”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Yeah. Plenty of times. It works to draw out the unscrupulous scumbags.”

His hands moved up to her ankles, kneading, soothing, then back down over her feet. So nice.

“And when the scumbags show themselves?”

“You and I can kick their…butts.” She’d swallowed back the curse word just in time, which robbed the description of any real punch.





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