Explosive (The Black Opals)

by St. Claire, Tori

  Brice cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise remained silent.

  Alyssa glanced between them both. “What’s going on?”

  With a sigh, Brice shook his head. “Noth—”

  “You work for two of the biggest pains in law enforcement’s ass, and you have no home security,” Jayce answered, his voice rising over Brice’s. He moved to the door, rapped a fist on the frame. “Fixing that is what I do.”

  Just when in the hell had the two of them intended to tell her? Alyssa opened her mouth to demand some answers, but Jayce bounded down the stairs, effectively terminating the conversation. Instead, she frowned at her best friend. “Is there a reason you were keeping this from me?”

  He chuckled and gave her a rueful grin. “Like I could keep it from you. I think we both were a little distracted last night.”

  True. Alyssa’s cheeks heated with chagrin.

  “Speaking of.” Brice eased from the edge of the bed and clasped her by the wrist. With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his warm embrace. Soft lips dusted the curve of her neck and shoulders. “Do you want to continue what we started?”

  Unfortunately, as his hips brushed hers, she observed his cock no longer strained against the thin material of his briefs. Just as well that his desire had dimmed, she supposed. Arousal might still flicker in her bloodstream, but Brice McTavish was never going to get her there at this point. Not when she’d turned to him out of habit and sheer companionship, and he hadn’t been who she wanted in the first place.

  There was no denying it was Jayce her body hungered for. Jayce her mind had concocted as she rolled her hips into Brice’s this morning and roused him from slumber with the not-so-subtle request. Jayce who could do more for her with one touch of his pinkie than hours of Brice’s skillful mouth.

  Why, oh why, couldn’t she fall for the man standing in front of her?

  She eased out of his embrace. “No. I’m not really in the mood anymore.”

  Downstairs, the front door firmly banged into place. A second later, Jayce’s pickup truck roared to life in the driveway. Definitely not the sounds she’d heard the night before.

  She cut a quick glance at Brice, then furrowed her brow at the slight frown that registered on his face. Had he made the same connection?

  Alyssa shook off unease. This was ridiculous. She refused to let herself be controlled by fear. A mountain of backed-up work waited at the office, and the Anderson’s not withstanding, she still needed to prepare the files she expected a subpoena to demand she surrender. Obviously no one was lurking around, waiting to attack. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be standing in her bedroom, watching Brice walk out the door, both of them perfectly unharmed.

  She took a deep breath, huffed it out, and summoned a smile. “Want me to cook breakfast first?”

  He threw her a boyish grin. “Not really hungry, but I’d kill for fresh coffee.”

  “On it.” She headed for the door.

  Brice angled around her with a playful swat to her bottom, beating her down the stairs. “Hitting the shower, then I’ll join you.”

  The bathroom door thumped shut, and Alyssa allowed herself to simply stand on the stairs and breathe for a few seconds. To absorb everything that had happened, and what had not happened, since last night. Tension ebbed from her shoulders and her lower back as she accepted the fact her decisions hadn’t been the wisest, and Jayce’s reaction was natural. He hadn’t wanted what he gave into. She shouldn’t have expected that the burn of desire would reveal anything deeper.

  She didn’t want anything deeper. Couldn’t fulfill that end of the bargain without exposing herself completely.

  And Brice genuinely seemed okay about the fact she’d turned him down when he’d been primed and ready for a robust round of morning sex. Not that he ever really pressed it if she wasn’t in the mood. He was just being Brice. Patient, undemanding, Brice.

  Feeling more at ease, Alyssa descended the stairs and wandered into the kitchen.

  * * *

  Jayce parked his truck in the back row of a strip mall three blocks west of Alyssa’s house. He fiddled absently with his cell phone, dreading the call he must make. Clarke would have his ass for losing his wallet. Black Opals didn’t exist as far as normal CIA records went, and the fabricated credentials could lead to a hell of a lot of people poking around in Clarke’s business. People that would want answers. Answers Clarke would have to plan very carefully.

  But there was no use trying to avoid the call. Jayce sighed and tapped in the number he knew by heart.

  Clarke answered on the second ring. “Gotcha, Sandman, whatcha need?”

  “I’ve got a little problem here, Kevin.”

  A heavy moment of silence drifted through the line before Clarke asked warily, “What kind of problem?”

  Yup. This wasn’t going to go well. Better to just spit it out. “Someone’s got my temporary credentials.”

  “Tell me I didn’t hear that right.”

  “Yeah, boss, you did.” Jayce leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes to an inward groan.

  “Damn it, Honeycutt. How the hell did you manage this?” Irritation sharpened Clarke’s voice.

  “How about we just jump to the worst part?”

  Like he chewed on nails, Clarke grit out, “There’s more?”

  Oh, yeah. Good thing he was half a continent away—Jayce didn’t want to be in the room with him when he learned whose hands his credentials might have fallen into. “Delfranco and James Parker ring any bells?”

  “I don’t want to know.” An exasperated sigh filled the line. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Sorry, Kevin, but it’s pretty likely my credentials will end up in one of their hands. My former best friend is Defranco’s defense attorney. His roommate is Parker’s accountant. I lost the wallet in their driveway.”

  A stream of hushed oaths filled Jayce’s ears, followed by the heavy thud of something solid connecting with something equally dense. A good ten seconds later, Clarke spoke again, his voice eerily calm. “Like I said, I didn’t want to know.” He waited a beat, then exploded, “Son of a bitch, Honeycutt! I sent you on mandatory vacation. How’d you get mixed up in shit at your sister’s wedding?”

  Jayce sat upright and drummed a hand on the steering wheel. “Long story.”

  “I’m starting to hate those two words.” He heaved a sigh, giving Jayce the distinct visual of the way he raked a hand through silver-brown hair. “Why is it all my agents suddenly need baby-sitters?”

  Annoyance flashed through Jayce. He gritted his teeth, wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel. He remained silent, afraid if he responded to the snarky remark, he’d tell Clarke all over again exactly what he thought of his decision to hire Sasha Zablosky. Doing so hadn’t exactly gone over well the first time.

  Clarke muttered something unintelligible, then calmed. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. Guess I’m glad you called. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. I need a favor.”

  “You need a favor, after you’ve lost your credentials?”

  “Pretty much.” Jayce smirked. Clarke might blow hot when he felt like someone had him by the tie, but if he’d truly been a dick, Jayce would have never stayed with the Opals. And sometimes, yanking Clarke’s chain was damned amusing. Though, admittedly, Jayce didn’t often do so. Not like some of the other Opals—Misha Petrovin and Alexei Nikanova being the most frequent offenders.

  “What now, Honeycutt?”

  Jayce lifted his gaze to the line of trees that separated the strip mall from the residential area where Alyssa and Brice lived. He pursed his lips, frowned momentarily. “I don’t suppose you can put me in touch with Kane Anderson can you? Last I heard, he was out this way.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Why?”

  “Like I said, I need a personal favor.”

  “I hate those words even more.” Clarke muttered again. Papers rustled on the other end of the line. Then a series of clicks, as if he were typing, echoe
d through. “Kane’s wrapping up something in Seattle.”

  Damn. He sincerely hoped that was a lie and Clarke just didn’t want to disclose where, precisely, Kane was currently assigned. If Kane was working in Seattle, no way could he jog out here. “Can you have him get in touch with me A-Sap? I need to ask him something about a security system.”

  “I’ll relay. No guarantees.”

  There never were. “Understood. Talk to you later, boss.”

  “I sincerely hope it’s not until you’re back in the office.”

  Unable to hold in a chuckle, Jayce shook his head and disconnected the call. All complaints about Sasha aside, he couldn’t help but sympathize with the director. In the last several months he’d been dragged into a lot of shit that could have, should have been prevented. Jayce wouldn’t want to be in his shoes these days.

  Well, so much for reaching any solutions regarding Alyssa’s security issues. So far, today was turning into a total bust. He might as well go back there as he’d said he would, with a couple sensors, and look like he was capable of the professional claims he made to Brice. Not that he wanted to return. But he’d given his word, and since the majority of his life involved some kind of deception, he took his promises seriously the rare times that he made them.

  He keyed the engine and rolled out of the parking space, dreading having to once again occupy the same square footage as Alyssa.

  * * *

  With the coffee brewing, Alyssa wandered down the hall and into her tidy office to check her email. Saturdays were prime opportunities for quiet time, and she’d made it habit long ago to manage her own books and financial records. Like clockwork, each Saturday she read her personal email, balanced her checkbook, logged her deductions for the week, and recorded the other business expenses. In that precise order. When she finished, she turned on the local home improvements show and added to the fantasy list in her head of things she’d like to do around the house when time allowed.

  Today, there would be no home improvements show. She needed to work on the Anderson’s taxes. While she didn’t like taking work home with her as a general rule, given the recent chaos of her routine, it would be nice to sit down to some sort of normalcy when the coffee finished. She could regroup, refocus, and at least with black and white numbers, she maintained a degree of control. Nothing like this near-hysteria Jayce’s sudden unexpected arrival threw her into.

  At the edge of her desk, her steps faltered, and she cocked her head to the disarray across her blotter. Instead of the neat piles that divided expenses into categories, her desk looked as if someone smeared a hand across the surface, mixing everything up. The center drawer was ajar, and her chair had been pushed against the wall, not shoved up to the desk as she always left it.

  Unease snaked down her spine. The hair on the back of her neck lifted.

  Rubbing at her arms to ward off a chill, she glanced around the room, unable to shake the nagging sensation someone was watching.

  Knock it off. Maybe Brice was looking for something.

  Even as she tried to make logical excuses, instinct objected. Brice never, never fooled around in her office. If he needed something from inside, he asked her to retrieve it. Just as she did with his office in the basement.

  Her stomach wound into an uncomfortable knot. The echo of the slamming door she’d heard last night pounded through her head. She swallowed to stop the tightening of her throat as old panic stirred. She refused to give a burglar that power. Refused to be so easily intimidated. There was a logical explanation. There had to be.

  Slowly, she moved around behind her desk, her gaze focused on the untidy mess. A splash of vivid color peeked from beneath an invoice for office supplies. She pushed the invoice aside, revealing a 5x7 photograph.

  Alyssa froze as she stared down at the picture. Someone had snapped a still of the office across town the night it had been broken into. The splintered door stood open, illuminated only by the overhead entry light. Around the building, someone had graphically altered chilling red and orange flames that gave the illusion the photographer shot the picture through fire. The scene alone was enough to fill her veins with ice. But what sent her heart into triple-time was the solitary word crudely etched into the gloss finish—SNITCH.

  As the clear warning message solidified in her thoughts, Alyssa screamed.

  F i f t e e n

  Thoughts crashed wildly in Alyssa’s head. Frozen in place, she stared at the photograph, dimly aware of the sound of feet pounding down the hall. She hadn’t imagined the bump in the night. Hadn’t created the threat in her mind. Someone had been inside her house, her office, last night. Someone other than Jayce.

  Brice crashed through the door, a towel wrapped around his waist, rivulets of water dripping over his shoulders. “What the hell? What’s wrong?”

  “Look!” She pointed a shaking hand at the photo, some distant portion of her mind warning she shouldn’t touch it. “Someone’s been here! In my office!” Panic crashed through her thin veneer of control. Long-buried fears now unleashed from the tidy place she’d confined them, swept through her veins. Her voice rose in pitch. “They were in my house!”

  “Easy, babe.” The picture of tranquil calm, save for the concerned frown on his face, Brice stepped around the corner of her desk and wrapped an arm around her waist.

  Alyssa turned into his embrace, tucking her face into his damp shoulder to block the evidence that someone wished her harm. “Parker. It had to be Parker. Oh, God, Brice! They were here.”

  “Shh, sweetheart, calm down.” He smoothed a hand down her hair and wrapped the other around her, holding her tight. “I’ll call the police. Don’t get hysterical.”

  Calm down? He’d lost his mind if he thought she could just push it all aside. Parker’s attorney had threatened her. Now this was on her desk. Not Brice’s desk. Her desk. It was easy for him to take it in stride, they weren’t threatening him.

  Nor did he have any idea what it felt like to have power stripped from his hands, to be subjected to someone else’s cruel will, to be completely helpless against an attack. It was the same thing, all over again, the same experience, only different. Oh, God, she needed to sit down.

  She pushed out of Brice’s hold, stumbled toward the door.

  “Alyssa, wait.” His fingers brushed her elbow as he tried to catch her arm.

  Alyssa shook her head and kept moving. “I need air.”

  “Sweetheart.” He was at her side in an instant, one solid arm around her shoulders, supporting her weight as he escorted her to the family room. “Damn it,” he muttered, more to himself than anything else. “Here, babe, sit down.” He guided them both into a chair and tucked her into his lap, her legs bent over the arm, her cheek resting on his shoulder.

  Unwillingly, she shivered. In her house. Her place of sanctuary. Tears rose, though she tried to choke them down. Memories flashed. Dark trees. A bonfire burning beyond the grove. Loud music and laughter. The face of a girl beside her, long mahogany hair whipping in the spring breeze, a laughing smile Alyssa had never forgotten.

  Then the crunch of feet against a stick behind her. Michael Barker’s raspy, drunken voice that held a hint of mocking laughter. Alyssa, I’ve been waiting for you.

  Alyssa buried her face in her hands, shaking her head to block the memories. No. That was ten years ago. This was Parker. She’d pissed him off by refusing to play his game, and now he was trying to scare her into cooperation. Her fear had egged Michael on.

  “Shh, honey,” Brice soothed as he rubbed her arm. “It’s okay. Just wait here a minute. I’ll get you some tea, and I’ll call the police. You’re okay. I promise.”

  Numb, she nodded. He was right—she hadn’t been harmed. Parker had left a measly picture, and that photograph, no matter how chilling, couldn’t hurt her. It’s just a picture. Get a hold of yourself.

  “No,” she worked out of her tightening throat. “It’s just a picture. This is what Parker wants.” Willing the trembling o
ut of her limbs, she slid off his lap and to her feet. She would not become a sniveling coward all over again.

  Brice stopped, halfway out of the chair. “What?” Disbelief clung to his voice.

  Drawing on false courage, Alyssa shook her head. “No, don’t call the police. Just throw the picture away. If we act like we’re not afraid of him, he’ll lose interest.” Just like Michael and Vince McCaffrey would have if she hadn’t screamed quite as loudly. It would have been just Michael. Not…the rest.

  She held Brice’s gaze. “Don’t call anyone. I won’t let him scare me.”

  Brice’s frown deepened. “Alyssa—”

  “No, Brice.” Drawing strength from a deep breath, she turned for the stairs and the security her bedroom offered. “Just give me a few minutes to get myself together.” She breathed deeply again, willed her pulse into a steadier tempo, and took two determined steps into the hall. “Get rid of that photo. Jayce is coming back with sensors, right? Let’s give this a bit. We don’t even have proof it’s Parker.”

  All sound logic that her brain fought to accept. Damn. She needed to think. Needed to clear off the fuzz of terror and sift through everything until she could see it in black and white. And she needed to pull herself together before Jayce returned.

  “I’ll get that tea. Come back here and sit down, and we’ll talk about this.”

  Shaking her head more emphatically, she set a foot on the stairs. “I’m going to my room. Bring me a cup of coffee, please. I have too many things to accomplish today to be brought low by a stupid picture.”

  * * *

  Brice pulled a coffee mug out of the dishwasher. This had gone too far. Alyssa shouldn’t be involved, and the sight of her instantaneous panic filled him with rage that had no outlet. Toledo had promised no one else would be involved.

  Worse, last night hadn’t brought Jayce and Alyssa any closer, as Brice had hoped it might. If anything, it seemed like Jayce hardened toward her. And Brice hated the guilt of knowing he’d contributed to that distance. But it would take an act of God to break down Alyssa’s walls so she’d talk to the only person who might ever truly be able to give her what she needed. Even now she was doing it again—erecting walls she would hide behind no matter the cost, out of some twisted belief she couldn’t ever be caught vulnerable. She’d turn to him, but only so far. Aside from the first night she’d broken down in his arms, she’d never let him get that close again.