by Lori Foster
Her soft expression pinched into disapproving lines and she shoved him away. “Do not use that language with me.” Needlessly, she straightened her glasses. “I can show you.”
“Show me?” He must have heard that wrong.
Her chin lifted. “I’m going, too.”
“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.” Jude threw up his hands. Just the thought of her getting anywhere near Elton sucked the breath from his lungs and sent rage roaring through him. He vibrated with menace, with an explosive need to shield and protect.
He tried to hold himself back but couldn’t. Shoving his face down close to hers, he ground out, “You’re staying here.”
“Don’t yell at me.”
Her calm only amplified his turbulence. “Then don’t talk stupid!”
“So now I’m stupid?” Her eyes narrowed while she waited for his response.
God, he hated those double-bladed swords women flung out with great regularity. They both knew that no matter what he said, she’d give him hell. But screw it.
Jude planted his feet. “If you think for one second I’ll take you along, then damn right.”
“Apparently, I’m smarter than you, because at least I know you need someone there for backup.”
“You?” he asked, so incredulous he nearly choked.
“Yes, me. I’ll stay out of sight but have my cell phone ready. I could call the cops if need be. Or I could lay on the horn if things go wrong. Or—”
“You,” he said, pointing a shaking finger at her, but words failed him. He could see the stubbornness, the worry in her dark eyes, and he didn’t know how to convince her, didn’t know what else he could say. Time slipped away. Elton wouldn’t spend all night dining. The bastard had revenge on his mind, not food.
Hands on top of his head, Jude gave May his back. Sickened by the turn of events, by the possibility of a lost opportunity, he went cold. “I guess you were right, after all.”
Uncertainly ebbed into her militant tone. “About?”
“Us being all wrong for each other.” The icy cold spread, lending him a false composure. He laughed and dropped his hands. “I thought I could get you to trust me, that you’d be a little different, but…” He shook his head and, with a huff of disgust, started out past her.
She grabbed his arm. “Jude, wait. I told you this wasn’t about trust.”
He looked first at her hand on his arm, far too small to encircle his biceps, a delicate contrast to his iron strength.
Yet she wanted to lead him around by his nose.
He looked next into her eyes, eyes so dark and compelling they could eat a man alive. “I’m not your brother. I don’t need you guarding me and coddling me. I don’t need you giving me orders and telling me how to run my life.”
Shocked, she dropped her hand and took a step back. “I didn’t.”
“You want to run the show, honey? Fine. Go find yourself some wimp who gets off on that shit.” His jaw flexed in frustration. “I don’t.” And he walked out.
He got halfway down the hall when her running footsteps sounded behind him. “Jude?”
Refusing to look at her, he said, “Call the cops, May. Send them on a wild goose chase. Me, I’m going to go take a swim.”
“But… if that’s Elton…”
“There’s nothing I can do about it, is there? Not with you making all the decisions.” Hand on the top railing to the stairs, he waited.
Jude thought he could hear the rhythmic thumping of her heart, feel her indecision fluttering against him. That he wanted to turn and pull her close and hug and console her only pissed him off more.
He had every right to be annoyed with her. His grievances were legit. So why did he feel like such a bastard?
Light as a breath, May’s hand touched his shoulder. “It’ll take you twenty minutes at least to get there.”
The tension ebbed out of him. One small battle, but an important one if he had any chance of keeping her safe. Unwilling to look at her, to risk being trapped by the caring and hurt in her gaze, he nodded. “Tell me quick.”
“There are some side streets. You’ll need to write them down.” Dejected, she went back to his room. Jude followed, watching as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands together, her head lowered.
Aware of the minutes slipping away, he didn’t dare take the time to pacify her. He scrounged in the nightstand drawer for a pad and pen and handed them to her. “Write it out for me.”
While she did that, he changed into black jeans and a black pullover. When she handed him the paper, he’d already finished dressing.
Hesitating only a second, he touched her cheek and smoothed his thumb over her mouth. “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
She turned her head away.
The silent treatment? Did that mean he’d have to sleep alone that night? Like hell. He’d fix things with her after he got back. “Try not to worry too much.”
“I’ll worry if I want to.”
Shaking his head, Jude said, “Suit yourself.” He went out of the room and down the stairs at a trot. Denny stood at the open front door. “Took you long enough.”
“There’s a woman in the house.”
“Oh yeah.” Denny frowned in comprehension, and then nodded his head toward a monitor. “Someone’s out there.”
What now? Striding to the monitor to take a look for himself, Jude said, “So there is.”
“Who?”
Jude had expected May to continue sulking in his room. He should have known better than to second-guess anything about her.
Barreling down the stairs, hastened by her continued fretting, she said again, “Who’s out there?”
“Recognize him?” Denny asked Jude.
“The photographer. Ed Burton. I had a small run-in with him at May’s gallery.”
Against his back Jude felt the rounded curves of May’s body as she struggled to see the monitor past him. Already on edge, his awareness at an acute level, he absorbed every nuance of her touch.
Hands braced on his shoulders, she breathed near his ear. “What is he doing here?”
Hoping for a reconciliation, Jude reached back and curled his fingers over her hip. She froze before easing herself away.
He pretended not to notice, just as he pretended not to be disappointed. “He hangs around, hoping for the ideal photo. It’s not a biggie. In fact…” He ran through a few scenarios in his mind and smiled. “He might actually come in handy today.”
The sun hadn’t yet set, but it hung low in the sky, sending rays of crimson along the horizon and emphasizing the shadows of early evening. Outside, at the end of the entry walkway, his black Porsche purred.
Stepping out the door and onto the porch, he said, “Keep an eye on her, Denny.”
“You betcha.”
May ran out after him. “Jude?”
She sounded angry again, so he kept his back to her.
“Please… be very careful.”
Not mad. He didn’t want to admit the relief he felt. He gave one nod, strode to the car, and without a backward glance, shifted into gear and headed for Ed Burton. He had a deal to offer, one that the photographer surely wouldn’t turn down.
———
Bolstered by new hope and anticipation, Tim ducked behind the interior wall. No one had seen him or heard him; they didn’t know he’d listened in. They’d all been too anxious about someone named Elton Pascal being in town.
Was he the man who’d ordered him to be beaten, the one who wanted Jude dead? They all seemed to think so, May especially. And Jude, the idiot, wanted to play the hero and run off to meet the man alone. Tim couldn’t fathom that kind of stupidity. But then, he didn’t have Jude’s skills.
After watching so many fights where Jude had knocked out, immobilized, or otherwise forced a tap out to defeat all his opponents, Tim couldn’t help but be intrigued. What an ego boost it’d be, taking a man down with one blow. Pow. Just like that. A jab to the chin and it was over.
; Or to control a muscle-bound hulk until he became as helpless as a child, twisting a limb to the breaking point, forcing another man to surrender. It made Tim’s blood rush just to imagine being that strong, that in control.
Jude continued to take great pleasure in insulting him, but Denny claimed he had the tools. All he needed was the training. Denny had hinted that he wouldn’t mind teaching him. If he ever got as good as Jude, he wouldn’t let anyone boss him around. Not his dad, not some bullyboy with an attitude. Definitely not his know-it-all, self-righteous sister.
He wouldn’t need May at his back, constantly running his life, treating him like a weak child.
Wouldn’t that knock the wind out of her? Tim grinned imagining it. She’d have to respect him. He could show her…
But what was he thinking? He couldn’t fight worth a damn, and right now, he wasn’t even sure he’d live out the rest of the week.
Unless he could turn this whole situation to his advantage. Mentally rubbing his hands together, Tim thought out his plan.
If Pascal hated Jude enough to want him dead, maybe, just maybe, his position in Jude’s house would be worth something. He could spy, as he’d done tonight. He could supply Pascal with useful information on Jude, ways to hurt him, maybe financially or socially, that wouldn’t involve the awful risk of being murdered.
Some men were worth more alive than they were dead. Tim prayed that might be the case for him. He shouldn’t have to suffer just because of Jude.
Next time the man called, maybe he’d be alone. And then he’d put the proposition to him. It was worth a try. And it was no more than Jude deserved.
Chapter 14
As he leaned against his car in the restaurant parking lot, Jude kept his pose casual. No one looking at him would know what he really had on his mind. He’d gone inside only long enough to let Ashley see him and to verify Pascal’s identity.
And now he waited.
A few cars down, Ed Burton hid with his camera at the ready and a high-tech microphone hooked to his recorder. The photographer had proved more than agreeable to Jude’s suggestion. Now, with the sun already set and the night dark, he had everything in place.
Was May still pissed at him? Probably. She had a stubborn streak that took him by surprise. But he didn’t mind. When he finished this business, he’d make it up to her in bed. Before they curled up to sleep, she wouldn’t have a single complaint with him.
The door to the restaurant opened, causing Jude to tighten in anticipation, but Ashley came out, not Elton. She searched the area, spotted him, and started in his direction. Shit. What the hell was she thinking?
Before she could reach him, Jude turned and moved deeper into the lot, out of range of the lights. Ashley followed, but she had the good sense not to call out his name. As soon as he found a heavily shadowed, obscure spot between two trucks, Jude trained his gaze back on the front door. He didn’t want to miss Elton’s departure. Everything hinged on him getting the man alone.
“Jude?” he heard in a low, feminine whisper.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Jude?” she said a little louder, and as she stepped into sight, he snatched her into the shadows with him.
Rather than give a startled yelp, she said, “Oh, there you are.”
Too much like May. “You shouldn’t be talking to me here, Ashley. If Elton sees you, it could put you on his shit list.”
She shrugged as if it wouldn’t be the first such list she’d joined, and pushed her hair back from her shoulders. “I had to know for sure if it was him. The curiosity was killing me.”
Again, Jude made note of the similarity between the two women. It wasn’t just their looks, which were enough alike for them to be related. They shared mannerisms, smiles, and the same depth shown in Ashley’s eyes that he’d often noted in May’s.
In fact, their eyes were almost… identical.
“Hello,” she teased in a singsong whisper. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
Jude shook his head, not about to tell her the path his thoughts had taken. Insane, that’s what it was. “I’m worried that Elton will see you with me, that’s all.”
She said, “Uh-huh,” and again, her eyes mirrored the same challenge he’d often seen in May. Uncomfortable with his observations, though he wasn’t sure why, Jude forced his gaze away from Ashley’s face. “You should get going.”
“Where’s May?”
Good God, were they both nuts? “She’s safe at my house, of course.”
Ashley stared at him a moment, then twisted her expression into “the look.” Did all women know how to fashion that perfect mix of pity, scorn, and skepticism?
“Man, are you going to be in trouble,” she said.
Jude rubbed his forehead. “Is that so?”
“Oh yeah. I bet she wanted to come along, and you went all macho and Tarzan and stuff, huh?” She grinned as if male idiosyncrasies tickled her. “If I were you—”
“Wait.” The door opened again, and two of Elton Pascal’s henchmen preceded Elton, while another man followed. “Hold that thought.”
Eyes flaring wide, Ashley started to turn, but Jude gripped her shoulder and pushed her down low. “Stay there,” he whispered. “Don’t come out, no matter what.”
“What do you mean, no matter what? What are you going to do?”
“Shhh.” Staying low and in the shadows, Jude moved away from Ashley, putting a good distance between them before straightening and drawing all the attention to himself. Driven by burning satisfaction, he stepped into the path of the men.
His sudden appearance forced them to a halt. Like dominoes, they nearly toppled each other.
As soon as he recognized Jude, the man in the lead went florid. “Jamison.” He bunched his fists and hunched his shoulders, coiling up like a too-tight spring.
Moron. Jude lounged back on the black luxury SUV that he assumed to be Elton’s car. The hulks that surrounded Elton were both taller and wider, providing a wall of protection.
The first guy took an aggressive step forward, and Jude, barely sparing him a glance, said, “If you don’t want him hurt, Elton, you better call him off.”
Managing a strained laugh, Elton stepped to the front of the group. With one lift of his hand, the men stepped down, giving Jude more space.
“Well, well, well,” Elton murmured. “If it isn’t the murderer of innocents.”
“Keep that lie going if you want. I don’t give a shit. But I do have a few things to say to you.” Jude never looked away from Elton’s taunting gaze. “Alone.”
Fear flickered in the green depths of Elton’s eyes, but he quickly banked it. “We have nothing to say to each other.”
“There’s where you’re wrong. Now, I can either go through your men first, which would be a piece of cake, or we can walk to the other end of the lot and settle this like mature men.” Jude grinned. “Unless you’re afraid to be alone with me.”
Elton seethed.
Doing his own share of taunting, Jude laughed. “Come on, Elton. I won’t give you the beating you deserve with witnesses hanging around. Your boys can keep you in sight, ready to jump to your defense if you need it.” And then, softer, “Not that it would do them much good, and we both know it.”
“Son of a bitch,” one man snarled. “That’s one insult too many.”
Jude didn’t move. He didn’t have to. Elton called the man off with alacrity. Showing his satisfaction, Jude gestured toward the end of the lot—closer to Ed Burton, so the photos would be clear and the recordings accurate. “This way.”
Elton glanced at his men, and snapped, “Wait here.”
Following his stocky form, Jude noted that Elton had picked up weight. At forty-two, he was Denny’s junior by five years, but he looked older, more worn, and far softer. Other than money and influence, he didn’t have what it took to be a hard-ass. The dissolute lifestyle and hateful nature had aged him. Left on hi&own, without others to fight his battles, he’d be helpless.
When they’d moved far enough away, Jude stopped near a light post. He put his hands in his jean pockets and studied Elton. “I see you’ve been eating well.”
“Fuck you.”
“You certainly try often enough. But not this time.”
A trickle of sweat worked its way down Elton’s temple. His twitching gaze darted left and right. “If you’ve got something to say, say it, damn it.”
“All right.” Jude kept his tone mild, almost gentle. “I’m done playing the game. I’ve stood aside while you slander and malign me, but now you’ve gone too far. You should have stayed in Hollywood—out of my reach.”
Alarm drove Elton back a step. “Are you threatening me?”
“Of course not.” To be annoying, Jude reached out and straightened the lapels on Elton’s jacket. The older man held his breath until Jude had retreated again. “You know I only fight in the ring”—he narrowed his gaze—”unless I’m forced to fight out of it. At heart, I’m a peaceful man, completely averse to violence.”
That prod pushed Elton beyond sensible discretion. He bunched his shoulders, making his stocky frame even boxier and turning his ears hot. “Except when you’re murdering innocent women.”
“Say it again, Elton.” Jude stepped closer, quiet in his menace, lethal in his intent. “I dare you.”
Red faced and sweating, Elton blustered, but nothing intelligent came out of his mouth.
“You’re a pathetic coward, Elton. Less than a man. You make me want to puke. No one with any sense pays you any attention, so I’ve been content to ignore you.”
“The paparazzi listen.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what the rag mags say, any more than I care what a few struggling actors think. The judge and jury didn’t believe you, so you should have let it go.”
Eyes bloodshot and bulging, voice strangled, Elton rasped, “She’s dead because of you. Sweet Blair is dead, and now I’ll never—”
“For the love of God, Elton, quit whining.” He didn’t bother denying the charge again. Insanity shone in Elton’s gaze and in the deep, panicked breaths he took. He’d believe what he wanted to believe. Jude didn’t care. “You never would have had Blair, so you might as well quit deluding yourself with that particular fantasy. She despised you.”
