by Lori Foster
He wore the T-shirt outside his jeans. To cover a weapon?
His right eyebrow lifted high. “Like what you see?”
Conceited dick. She curled her lip. “You don’t look like you belong here.”
“No? What look would that be?”
“Dirty. Poor.” She leaned out of the way of an elbow when a drunk staggered by. “Coarse.”
“Then you wouldn’t fit here, either, right?”
A squeal sounded, and they both looked back to the brawling women. Arizona leaned back in the seat and crossed her arms. “My money’s on Blondie.”
“An actual bet or a figure of speech?”
She considered it, then thought, what the hell. “Fifty bucks?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t think so.” His gaze went to her mouth. “How about a drink instead?”
“I don’t drink.”
He eyed her near-empty glass of cola. “I’ll replace that. But what I meant was company with the drink anyway.”
“Forget it. Not interested.”
“Liar.”
Never did she let anyone goad her, but damn it, she swiveled to face him. Annoyance didn’t lessen his impact on her senses.
And he didn’t shy away from her direct stare.
“So.” Propping her elbows on the table, Arizona studied him. “What are you really doing here?”
Lifting one of those impressive shoulders, he smiled, making no pretense of the lie. “Looking for companionship.”
“Bullshit. What are you hiding?”
Bold as you pleased, he reached out to finger a long lock of her hair. “You use that language as a front? Tell me, little girl, what are you hiding?”
Alarm slammed into Arizona. She slapped his hand away and lurched to her feet. Not being a dummy, she decided to put a whole lot of gone between her and a guy like him.
She was halfway across the crowded bar before she realized that he’d followed, that he was, in fact, right on her heels. She glanced back—and found him watching her ass.
Great. Just freaking great.
Instead of heading out as she’d intended, she detoured to the bouncer. He lounged at the end of the bar, massive tattooed arms crossed, bald head shiny with sweat, enormous feet planted apart. He had the air of a dunce just itching for a little violence.
She knew his type. Most seedy little bars had a bully just like him. Foul-tempered, a few screws short. Dirty fighters who liked to think their badass attitudes impressed others.
Morons.
The guy behind her said something, but she didn’t slow down to find out what. She marched right up to the bouncer. He noticed her coming and straightened in interest.
Nothing new to Arizona. Most guys eyed her with lust. She’d learned to live with it.
Only one man had treated her differently, but he wasn’t here right now. God willing, he’d never again have to put himself out for her.
The bouncer started to speak. Arizona cut him off as she turned to point at the man following her. “He’s bugging me.”
Tall and Good-Looking let out a sigh.
Squat and Muscle-Bound cracked his knuckles.
The plan was to engage them in a real brawl, then she’d make her escape.
Unfortunately, it didn’t quite go that way.
The bouncer swung one meaty fist, missed, and Tall and Good-Looking knocked him clean out with a straight jab right to the chin.
Arizona watched the bouncer go down, his fists still raised, his eyes crossing, his back stiff. His substantial weight jarred the floor beneath her feet. Someone jumped out of the way, and in the process a table overturned. Drinks spilled. Men cursed. Chairs shoved back.
Chaos exploded.
Shaking her head, she slowly looked back up at her pursuer and got caught in those dark bedroom eyes.
Without looking particularly pissed or even annoyed, he held out a hand to her.
Well, shit. So she’d have to do this herself. Wouldn’t be the first time, probably not the last.
Faking a sweet smile, she took his hand, and she took the lead. Dragging him out the front door, only stomping a little, she resolved to settle things quickly.
Down the front steps she marched, across the gravel lot, moving toward the empty section where security lights didn’t quite reach.
Timing herself and him, Arizona waited for exactly the right opportunity, then she jerked around, her knee aiming for his crotch.
SPENCER FOLLOWED ALONG behind the girl. She was tall and slender, with ebony hair, honey-colored skin and the palest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Exotic. Sexy. Restless.
Up to something.
Equal parts concern, curiosity and interest sparked inside him. First time in a long time.
Wrong time.
Really bad timing, actually.
The humid night air carried back her scent to him, cleansing away the rank smells of alcohol, old sweat and desperation. He detested bars.
But he relished the info he got from them.
She didn’t carry a purse, but in her back pocket he saw the outline of a slim wallet, and in the other pocket, maybe a cell phone.
If she thought he’d speak first, she’d be surprised. He’d found he got more from people with silence than through questioning. His fingers swallowed up her smaller, slender hand. Fine-boned, she looked delicate but spoke like a seasoned hooker with a raspy, deep voice that mesmerized almost as fast as her eyes.
It didn’t hurt that she had an impressive rack, too.
It did hurt that she looked incredibly young, too young to be in the dive they’d just exited.
Even as her bold stare screamed experience, an aura of vulnerability surrounded her.
Once they walked into the shadows, he felt the difference in her intent. Anticipation ran up his spine, prepped his muscles and sharpened his wits.
What would she do? He could barely wait to find out.
When she twisted around, he was ready for her, and instead of her knee crushing his balls, it landed on his thigh—and she landed in his arms.
Careful not to hurt her, he wrapped her up tight.
Shock rendered her mute and stiff, utterly still. He could almost feel her thinking, weighing her options—not that she had any.
Why had she attacked him anyway?
Keeping her on her tiptoes to maintain the advantage, he pinned her arms to her sides. Her hips smashed up against his thighs, and her head only reached his chest, so she couldn’t head butt him.
But she could still bite, so he said softly, very matter-of-factly, “Put those teeth to me and I will turn you over my knee.”
Defiant, she tipped her head back and stared up at him. “Now what?”
Not for a very long time had he been so aware of a woman in his arms, the softness of her skin and hair, her curving shape, the aroma and warmth of her body. The need to end his long stretch of celibacy knotted his guts, but he wasn’t here for that, and she didn’t look real receptive anyway. “Let’s start with your name.”
Her incredible mouth formed a smile. “Arizona. Yours?”
Now she wanted to be cordial? No reason not to play along, especially if it meant he’d get to hold her longer. “Spencer.”
“Nice to meet you, Spence.”
“Spencer,” he corrected. But the grin tugged at his mouth. He had to ask. “How old are you?”
“Old enough.” She relaxed in his arms, unconcerned, arrogant. “You?”
“Too old.” At least for her. At least…he thought so. He did not relax his hold to match her more casual pose; that was one of the oldest tricks in the book. “Define old enough.”
“Twenty, actually.” She let one beat pass, and then, “Define too old.”
Not even legal yet, so what was she doing in the bar? “Thirty-two.”
“Oh yeah, that’s ancient.” She shifted, tipping her head to the side. “So Spence—”
“Spencer.”
“Anything else you want to know about me?�
��
He wanted to know all kinds of things. “Is Arizona your real name? It’s unusual.”
“Yeah, I know. Jackson gave it to me.”
“Jackson?” A husband? A cohort? A pimp? He didn’t like any of those possibilities.
“This white-knight dude I know. My own name was used up, so…he came up with Arizona.”
“Used up?” At only twenty, how could that be? But he knew, and it both sickened and saddened him.
She wrinkled her nose, looked down at his chest. “Forget that.”
He shook his head. “I know what it means, Arizona.” The urge to open his hands over her back, to stroke her, comfort her, made him twitchy. “So you’re in hiding?” He put his nose closer to her temple and breathed in the scent of her. “From what?”
She clammed up tight.
Spencer sorted through all she’d said—and damn it, he believed her, even though most of it didn’t make any sense. There was something about her, some sense of defiance that bespoke great hardship. “Okay, forget the name thing.” He’d work that one out later, when she didn’t fill his arms. “Define white knight for me.”
“You know, a do-gooder. Out to save a world that can’t be saved.”
“It can’t?” He often felt the same, but hearing that bleak acceptance in her voice cut into his soul. No one so young should be so cynical.
“The best you can hope for is to chip away at the…” She stopped, drew a deep breath. “Look, Spence, I’m kind of tired of hanging here in your grasp. Now that I answered your questions, you wanna loosen it up a little?”
“Not really, no.” But he knew he had to, or he’d be crossing the line…more than he’d already crossed it. He spun her around so her back was to his chest. She had a great ass to go with the great rack, perky and firm and rounded just right. It stirred long dormant carnality, prompting him to his senses. “But I will.”
He released her so fast, she stumbled. When she turned, he was already out of her reach.
“Afraid of me?” she taunted.
“I like the family jewels just as they are, without them being rearranged by your knee.”
Disgust had her looking away from him. “I missed anyway.”
“Doesn’t mean you’d miss a second time.” It wouldn’t hurt to throw her a bone. “You almost got me. It’s just that I’m—” he shrugged “—fast.”
“And strong,” she agreed. “You know, I expected you and the bouncer brute to do some battle.”
Gently, he told her, “No.”
“Yeah, I realize that now.” She moved over to lean against a fence post. “So, what are you doing here?”
Why not tell her? She seemed as curious about him as he was about her. “Ferreting out info, actually.” He took a step closer, not relaxing his guard but hoping she might. “You?”
“Until you interfered, I was doing the same.”
His blood ran cold. The indifferent way she said that, as if it were the norm for a breathtakingly gorgeous twenty-year-old girl to snoop around in a lowlife bar that catered to the criminal element left him scared for her. “No.”
“Why not?” Disdain dripped from her words. “You think you’re more capable than me?”
“Yes.” Breathing faster, he edged toward her. “I know I am.”
In a whisper, she said, “Sorry, Spence, but you are oh so wrong.”
With no other warning, she lunged forward, locking her hands together and swinging her doubled fists up and around to pop him in the chin.
For such a dainty girl, she knew how to pack a wallop.
Since he hadn’t seen it coming, he didn’t brace for it. His head snapped back, throwing him off balance. His feet slid on the gravel before he found purchase again and righted himself.
Blindly he reached out; his fingertips brushed the ends of her long hair as she sprinted away.
Damn it. He tried to give chase—why, he didn’t know—but the darkness swallowed her.
He stopped to listen and wasn’t surprised that she made very little noise.
She had skills, and that, as much as anything, left him throbbing with curiosity.
He turned at the sound of a car door opening and closing again. Headlights came on, lighting the distant reaches well beyond the parking lot. A car engine started. Gravel spit as she revved the engine, and then she sped away.
Breathing hard, infuriated at himself, Spencer watched her taillights fade away. He was considering chasing after her when he got diverted by the familiar voice of a man exiting from the bar.
The man spoke hurriedly into a cell phone; a cohort kept pace with him.
Thankful that Arizona had left him in the concealing shadows, Spencer watched the men with burning hatred. He felt the weight of the gun at the small of his back, the press of a switchblade in his boot. His muscles knotted, and his hands flexed.
Doors opened, highlighting hated features for an instant as the men got into a silver BMW.
Already on his way to his truck, Spencer kept track of the BMW as it skidded over the gravel lot in a hasty exit.
Was it coincidence that they rushed out directly after Arizona? Had someone notified them of her departure?
If so, then that would have to mean that someone had been watching them—
The thought barely formed before he was attacked. Reacting by instinct alone, Spencer caught the momentum of the lunging body and fell to his back. Using his feet, he tossed the man over his head, then jumped onto him, gaining the upper hand. He landed two sharp blows before taking one on the jaw himself.
The meaty fist sported brass knuckles, and for an instant he saw stars.
Before the second punch could land, he rolled again and came to his feet—with his knife in his hand. He grinned at the other man, ready, anxious even. “Come on then. I don’t have all night.”
Then the real bloodshed began.
A minute later, with senses peeled and rage honed to a lethal edge, Spencer drove away with the intent of catching up to the BMW.
For a minute there he’d felt bad about how things had gone with Arizona. But the scuffle with her had given him the opportunity to lift her wallet. All he’d needed was a reason, any reason at all, to track her down.
It’s what he did.
And he was better than good.
Thanks to the silver BMW, he had all the reason he needed. He’d be seeing her again. Odd as it seemed, and despite the personal pursuit of justice, he already looked forward to it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CONCERNED, ALANI WAITED as Jackson again made a call. He’d done that several times, without much success.
“Still no answer?”
He shook his head. “We’ll be at Dare’s in a few more minutes. I’ll get you and the cat settled, and then figure out something.”
With the reflective sunglasses shielding his eyes, she couldn’t gauge his intent, but she didn’t like the sound of that. Since telling her about Arizona, he’d been distant from her.
And it hurt. “What exactly do you mean, get us settled?”
Evasive, he tightened his mouth and glanced at his mirrors.
Even knowing that Dare and Trace trailed them, he’d been especially watchful. “Jackson?”
“You have to be getting hungry.” He reached over and patted her thigh.
Trying to pacify her? She studied his handsome profile, saw the strain in his shoulders and opted not to press him. “I could eat.”
“And the cat needs out of that box.”
Alani looked over the seat. The cat had settled down and currently seemed okay with the ride. He’d worked around until he got his head poked out of the box, and now, except for the occasional raspy meow, he stared out the window as if mesmerized. “He’s doing okay.” She reached back and scratched under his chin.
Jackson glanced at the clock. “Thanks to the traffic, this trip has taken longer than it should have.”
“Only by a little.” His concern for Arizona left him cold and distracte
d. Alani knew he had a plan, she just didn’t think she’d like it. Now that the girl had a name, Alani wanted to know more about her.
But he’d become evasive, defensive and increasingly detached.
“You’ve got to be getting hungry, too.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t look at her. “But I’ve got some other stuff to take care of first.”
Meaning Arizona? Did he think she wouldn’t understand? More than most, she knew how difficult it could be for a woman to overcome the trauma of such an experience. She wanted to talk to him about it, but doubted, in his current mood, that he’d be receptive. “Is there a work number where you can call her?”
He hesitated, his frustration clear, then shook his head. “I tried the school already.”
“The school?”
“Yeah, it’s…” Furious with himself, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Forget that.”
Not likely. As she continued to stare at him, he glanced at her and flattened his mouth as if she’d just coerced him into some great admission.
“I had her in school, all right? But swear to God, that girl runs off more than she stays put. Seems every couple of months, the school has to get in touch. I thought that was what had happened again, but now…”
Stymied, Alani asked, “How old is she?”
Again he glanced at her, then away. “She’s only twenty.”
Twenty was a woman, not a girl.
Grudgingly, he added, “She needed an education.”
Hmm. Okay. Feeling her way, Alani asked, “College?”
“Yeaaaah.” He dragged out the word. “Well, sort of like an all-girl school.”
Alert to what he didn’t say, Alani propped herself into the corner of the seat. “An all-girl school, you say?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his neck again. “More like…a small women’s college. You know, where you get an education and also learn all that crap about society functions and stuff.”
Without realizing it, she sat forward again. Surely he didn’t mean finishing school. “You’re kidding, right?”
“She wanted to go!” Color climbed up his neck. “Or at least, I thought she did.”
