Explosive (The Black Opals)

by St. Claire, Tori

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he descended to the living room, where McTavish sat on the couch, toying with his phone. As Jayce entered, McTavish snapped the phone shut. With the hasty, jerky actions of a kid caught with a forbidden cookie, he stuffed the cell in his pocket.

  Jayce paused, suspicion ringing faint in his mind.

  “Morning,” McTavish quipped a bit too enthusiastically.

  Jayce tipped his head a fraction and answered warily, “Morning to you. Late night?”

  McTavish ran his hands down the tops of his thighs and stood. “Kinda.”

  There was something about the way he moved to the mantle and began fiddling with a picture frame that lifted the hair on the nape of Jayce’s neck. Was he nervous? What the hell for?

  “Something wrong?”

  “No.” His smile came a bit too quickly, a bit too forced. “No, I’m fine. Just thinking about mowing the lawn.”

  Jayce dragged his gaze down McTavish’s back, taking in a pressed dress shirt, casual khaki pants, and expensive suede loafers. He narrowed his stare on the back of McTavish’s head. “Dressed for the job too, I see. What gives?”

  Eyes wide like saucers, McTavish turned fully around. “Nothing gives. I just got in. I-I haven’t—”

  “Cut the bullshit.” Folding his arms over his chest, Jayce cocked an eyebrow. “What the hell’s under your skin?”

  Like the many sewer rats Jayce’s time in the Opals exposed him to, McTavish’s expression washed ghost white for a nanosecond. Then the false surprise drained away, replaced by begrudging acceptance.

  McTavish blew out a hard breath. “I guess there’s no reason to keep it from you.”

  “Keep what from me?”

  Motioning Jayce to follow, McTavish shouldered around Jayce and struck off down the hall toward Alyssa’s office. He pushed the door open. Inside, Jayce glimpsed more disarray than what littered the ground the first time he’d set foot within. It hadn’t been ransacked, but someone sure as hell had been here.

  McTavish cut a bee-line to Alyssa’s desk and punched a button on her business phone. “This.”

  A computer-generated voice announced the incoming call’s time as seven-thirty, shortly after Jayce and Alyssa arrived at the restaurant. Then another voice, one just as electronicized but certainly not carrier-backed, vibrated through the speaker.

  “You’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you. Maybe you’ll change your mind about cooperating if you get a taste of what will happen to you.”

  As the voice faded, a click resonated through the line. Jayce tensed, the sound somehow vaguely familiar. What came next snapped memories of time and location into place. As a muffled, tinny boom echoed in the distance, a vision of two separate incidents exploded through his mind. The long-ago training with pressure-sensitive landmines in his earliest days with the Opals combined with the detonation chamber at headquarters. Something blew up on the other end of that phone. Something contained inside something hollow and metal. Large enough to produce the threatening sound effect. Small enough not to injure whoever set off the device, given the short expanse of time between the click and the explosion.

  A threat, nothing more. But a ballsy one that made it clear whoever had Alyssa in their sights wasn’t playing small games. Parker and Delfranco were behind bars. Who the hell was threatening her?

  Jayce’s gaze snapped from the phone to McTavish’s ashen expression. “Were you here?”

  “Fuck no. I was—” McTavish snapped his mouth shut.

  “You were what?” Alarms blared in Jayce’s ears. Instinctive, reflexive defenses that screamed McTavish was hiding something.

  “I was at the gym.”

  Jayce took two strides to the desk, reached across it, and grabbed McTavish by the collar. “What the fuck is going on, McTavish?”

  McTavish shoved against Jayce’s chest, freeing himself. He backed up a step. “Get your damned hands off me. I don’t know shit. I only played it back for you so you’d hurry up with this security system.”

  Jayce wasn’t buying the story, but enough legitimate fear shone in McTavish’s eyes to thwart Jayce’s anger. He braced his hands on the desk and took care to keep his voice low. “What is she mixed up in? What does she have, exactly, that they want? I want—”

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs silenced Jayce. He narrowed his gaze on McTavish, warning him silently that this discussion wasn’t over yet. He would get answers one way or the other, and he was starting to suspect one, or perhaps both of them, knew precisely who was behind these break-ins and exactly what they wanted. McTavish might not know specifics, but Jayce wouldn’t put it past him to cover for Alyssa.

  “Jayce?” she called from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Coming.” He shoved away from the desk and gestured at the phone. “Get rid of it before she hears. Tape it off for the detectives first.”

  At McTavish’s over-eager nod, Jayce left the room, only to nearly run Alyssa over as she approached the door. He caught her by the shoulders as she tottered backward. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were there.”

  She recovered with a dismissive shake of her head. “I don’t want you to leave angry.”

  “I’m not angry.” Not with her. At least not over the reasons she assumed. Her unwillingness to meet Jordan and the rest of his family had taken a backseat to his more immediate concern over the significant threat that had been placed on her head.

  “You are too. It’s all over your face.”

  Jayce gritted his teeth and slowly uncurled his fingers from her shoulders. Forcing himself to relax, he summoned an attitude of indifference. “It’s really not important, Alyssa.” Lie some more—it’s what you do best. “I’ll call you later.”

  He leaned forward, placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, then took off down the hall. Connecting with Kane had just taken priority over any wishful longings of his heart.

  * * *

  Alyssa stood rooted in the hall, watching Jayce leave as if he couldn’t stand the idea of being near her any longer. Before she could recover from the startling way he went from furious to cool and collected, Brice edged past her like someone had lit a fire under his heels.

  “Brice?” she called, bewildered.

  He skidded to a stop in front of his bedroom door. “Yeah?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Not much.” He flashed her a grin. “Certainly nothing as eventful as your night, I imagine. Jayce here, two mornings in a row. What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing,” she murmured. Nothing at all, if she didn’t sort through the crap in her head.

  Brice leaned on his doorframe. “You know he’s crazy about you. Give him a chance, Alyssa. Trust him with the truth.”

  Give him a chance to destroy her heart. Or worse, to become completely disappointed in her. She owed it to him. If she didn’t, she’d lose him. And this time, if he walked away, he’d never give her another opportunity. She would kill every bit of emotion he felt for her.

  Come with me.

  Meet his family and open herself to disappointing not only Jayce, but everyone else who meant something to him. Meet Jordan, the one person in Jayce’s family who knew about their plans and dreams. What if Jordan asked where she’d gone, why she’d never gone to Chicago, why she’d broken Jayce’s heart?

  Worse, what if Jordan didn’t ask and judgment shone in her eyes?

  You’re mine, Alyssa. You’ve always been mine. His husky whisper played through her mind. Agreeing had been the most natural response in the world. She would always be his. Could she really let him walk away without ever knowing if she might have had a chance at the forever they’d once planned?

  Alyssa headed for the front door. She had to get out of this house, away from the distractions and the way Brice pushed at her. Even when Michael had attacked and raped her, she hadn’t been the coward she was being now. True the nightmares terrified her, but nightmares were beyond her control. Jayce had returned. He was he
re right now. All she had to do was take an impossible chance and choke out the words. When she’d confessed the worst part of everything, he’d held her and comforted her tears.

  She squeezed her eyes shut to block her jumbled thoughts. “I’m going for a run. I’ve got my phone on me.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t go off alone with everything that’s going on,” Brice called after her.

  He might have a point, but she was doing a good enough job at shutting down. She refused to become an agoraphobic because Parker thought he could intimidate her. For too long she’d surrender control over her own life. Besides, all he’d done was break into her house and office. She was beginning to believe Parker’s goons were all smoke and blow. He dealt in white-collar crime, not blackguards and thugs.

  She shook her head and kept on walking. “I need to sort some things out. I won’t go far.”

  T h i r t y – o n e

  As Alyssa approached the corner intersection of her residential street, the sound of a slow-moving car filtered through her dense, conflicted thoughts. Her circumstances, the threats on her life, slammed into her awareness. Her already accelerated heart rate kicked up another notch.

  How long had they been following her?

  She resisted the fierce urge to dash forward and focused on the steady pounding of her sneakers. No. You’re being silly. It’s just a car.

  But why wasn’t it passing her? Why creep along just beneath her jogging speed?

  She glanced over her shoulder, increasing panic turning her perspiration into an icy sheen of fear. Ten feet behind her, a grey sedan cruised at an ant’s pace. She couldn’t make out the driver behind the wheel in her quick glance, and she wasn’t about to take time to stop for a closer look. Pushing the last of her energy into her feet, she sprinted ahead.

  Was it her imagination, or had the car picked up as well?

  Alyssa focused on the approaching stop sign. Forty feet, and she’d be on her own street. Two houses down on the right—safety. She pushed a deep breath out and willed her body to go faster. Her lungs screamed against the effort; her thighs burned. It’s not that far. You can make it.

  If she didn’t make it…

  Alyssa squeezed her eyes shut and swiped at a bead of sweat on her temple. If she didn’t reach her driveway, she had no doubt she’d never see Jayce or Brice again. Damn it! She hadn’t even surrendered the information the police wanted. Parker would walk away with no one the wiser. Free to terrorize someone else.

  Her heel came down on a jagged, uneven crack in the sidewalk. Unbalanced, she stumbled to regain her footing. But it was useless—her ankle turned at an awkward angle, and her momentum pitched her forward. She threw her hands before her, managing to break the impact of her fall, and toppled belly-down on the sidewalk.

  Not more than ten feet behind her, the car slowed at the curb.

  Terror streaked through Alyssa’s veins. Scrambling to find purchase, she struggled to rise. Her overtaxed, trembling legs and the sudden constriction of her diaphragm made the effort impossible. From the corner of her eye, she caught a pair of black loafers approaching at a jog.

  As a scream rose to her throat, Alyssa gave standing one last effort. She shoved against the pavement with her scuffed hands and knees, managing to work herself into a runner’s crouch.

  Oh, God. Oh, God!

  “Hey, are you okay?” A winded, masculine voice called out.

  The shout was like a gunshot and had nearly the same effect on Alyssa. Halfway to her feet, her legs already pumping for an escape, she tripped and caught herself on her hands once again.

  “Hey, slow down. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

  What?

  Alyssa froze in place and slowly looked over her shoulder.

  A blond man approached, concern etched into his angular face. He slowed his steps to a purposeful walk and ventured a hesitant half-smile. When he reached her side, he extended a hand to help her up. “Really, I’m sorry if I scared you. I’m looking for Dell Street. I was going to ask you at the stop sign.”

  Dell Street—she’d panicked over a man who wanted directions? Idiot. Alyssa slapped her hand into his outstretched palm and allowed him to help her up. “Dell’s four blocks north.” Panting, she gestured in the direction with her free hand.

  His warm smile filled with gratitude. “Thanks.” He pumped her hand, then released it. “Dave Winters. My buddy just moved in over here. I’m up from Colorado Springs. Again, I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

  “It’s okay.” Alyssa returned his smile. I’m just afraid of my own shadow. The guy was kinda cute, despite three days worth of stubble. And his shoulders were a far cry from Jayce’s broad strength, but defined muscle peeked from beneath Dave Winters’ short sleeves.

  With a dip of his head, he indicated her skinned knees. “Think you’d let me buy you a drink to make up for those?”

  Alyssa chuckled and wiped the back of her wrist across her sweaty brow. “I’m good, thanks. Dell’s four blocks that way, but you have to turn onto Eastmoor first. They run into each other.” Next time call your friend. She refrained from sharing the snide remark and tightened her pony-tail. “I better get going. Heart rate and all.”

  “Right.” He tugged on the bill of a faded ballcap embroidered with ATF and flashed a dimpled grin. “Thanks for the directions.”

  Waving, Alyssa picked up a casual jog and moved away. “Good luck.”

  He turned back to his car and climbed inside.

  Alyssa waited for the sedan to pass before she allowed her feet to stop. She stood, rooted in the middle of the sidewalk, tidal waves of relief washing over her. For a minute, she’d really believed this was how it would end—her falling on the sidewalk, Parker’s thugs pouring out of the car and dragging her off never to be seen again. She was becoming a damned ninny, scared of the world beyond the walls of her house.

  This had to end. She couldn’t live like this. Wouldn’t.

  Parker could take his threats and rot in hell.

  As anger overtook her fright, Alyssa broke into a run again. Darting through a side yard, she cut across lawns, shortening the distance to her house. She was tired of being a coward. This was her life, and she was sick and tired of allowing fear to control it.

  She hit her front door, so furious she could spit nails. If Parker wanted to threaten her, she’d prove to him he couldn’t intimidate her. There was right, and there was wrong; he’d broken the law, and she refused to spend the rest of her life reacting to the world around her.

  “That was quick,” Brice called as she passed the living room.

  “Forgot something.” Alyssa didn’t stop until she was inside her office with the door shut and locked behind her. She pulled out her leather chair, sat down, and shook the mouse to wake up her computer.

  With a few clicks of the keyboard she connected to her office machine and opened the password-protected drive that held her client’s records. While her email client loaded, she jerked open the top drawer and fished out Detective Marston’s card. Her message was simple:

  Here are the files you requested. No need for the subpoena.

  ~Alyssa Martin

  She hesitated only a second before she attached Parker’s entire client history and then hit send.

  When the email finished transmitting, Alyssa stared at the computer screen. She could get in a lot of trouble for supplying those records without a subpoena. Parker could sue her three ways from Sunday. But if he was going to intimidate her, at least now he had reason. Moreover, if something legitimately happened to her, Parker would serve time. Maybe not for what he might do to her, but he would experience the heavy hand of justice one way or the other.

  Inhaling deeply, she accepted the finality of what she’d done. It’s the right thing to do. And it felt good to be completely in control for once. Damned good.

  Now, she could clear her mind and return to her run. With a little luck, she’d accomplish what she’d set out to originally�
�to work out exactly what she wanted with Jayce. Then, this afternoon, she was going to finalize the Anderson’s files and have that off her plate as well. Completely free.

  She left her office and stopped in the hall to fiddle with her phone. When she’d keyed in the right combination, it emitted a soft beep, and she tucked it back into her bra. “Brice?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I turned on the GPS on my phone.”

  His thoughtful response came from the kitchen. “Everything okay?”

  “Yep. All’s good.” It still didn’t hurt to be a little extra cautious. Just in case. “Back in a few!”

  He appeared in the doorway, braced his hands on the upper ledge, and leaned into the hall. A concerned frown marred his brow. “Be careful. I still don’t like this.”

  Alyssa smiled. “I will be. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me not to worry so much?”

  At his begrudging nod, she headed for the front door. Two photographs and insignificant break-ins would not make her a prisoner. She was done living in fear. This was her life, and damn it, she would control its outcome.

  Feeling much more confident in general, Alyssa struck off down the street again.

  * * *

  Someone had threatened Alyssa with a bomb, but who?

  Jayce couldn’t let go of the question as he navigated the streets of Boulder to Jordan’s townhouse. Parker stood out like a neon orange splotch on a purple shirt. Everything pointed to him—he’d even had his attorney contact Alyssa directly. But from everything Jayce knew about Parker, bombs weren’t his style.

  James Parker had been on the CIA’s watch list for years. He was suspected of filtering money earned from conflict emeralds in Colombia through international shell corporations. Those illegal gains funded organizations like the Moscow Solntsevskaya Bratva, FARC, and the Taliban—all of which linked back to the emerald industry. But Parker kept a low profile, one of the reasons they had never been able to prove his involvements. Using violence now, while indeed he possessed the necessary alliances with outfits who were more aggressive, wouldn’t help Parker’s case. Intimidation, yes. Scaring the shit out of Alyssa, yes. Something as conspicuous as an explosion didn’t fit Parker’s attic-rat methodology.