BLADE'S LADY

by Fiona Brand

  Blade's grip remained firm as he strolled with her back to where she'd left her tray. He seemed oblivious to the interest they were causing, but Anna wasn't. She could feel the weight of the attention, the speculation. She felt escorted. She felt owned.

  She had to wonder if, like Alice, she had fallen down a rabbit hole into an alternate universe. Outside, Blade had deliberately let her know he wanted her. Pushing her up against that wall hadn't been intentional – she was the one who had set that course in motion by running – but once he'd had her there, he had used the opportunity. He had wanted her to feel his arousal.

  When they reached the tray she'd abandoned, instead of leaving as she expected him to, Blade slid into the banquette she'd just finished cleaning.

  Anna met his gaze, aware that everything she was feeling was written on her face, along with a healthy dose of panic, but she didn't care. He looked comfortably ensconced, as if settling in for a long stay. All she wanted was for him to leave before he made things worse. "I can't stop and talk with you. I have to work."

  He shrugged. "Then I'll wait for your shift to finish."

  "The shift finishes at five. That's two hours away."

  "I'll have coffee while I wait."

  He was going to wait for her! She felt as stunned as the time she'd been hit by a car: disbelieving, with all the wind knocked out of her. It seemed that whatever way she turned, Blade was there, cutting her off. She was beginning to feel like a mare being systematically driven and cornered by a stallion. "You won't like the coffee here," she said flatly.

  He shrugged, his gaze intent beneath outrageously long lashes. "I'll have it anyway."

  Clumsily, she scribbled his order on her pad, and then picked up her tray. When she came back with the coffee, he didn't try to detain her, for which she was grateful, but that didn't alter her awareness of him. He wasn't trying to be subtle about what he was doing; he wanted her to be aware of him, and his strategy was working.

  Blade ignored the coffee as it steamed gently on the table. He was completely focused on Anna. She was wary of him, and he couldn't blame her. He had behaved like a caveman, but dammit, when she'd run from him, he'd been incensed, and when he had caught her against that wall, his fierce arousal had taken him by surprise. He had probably been as shocked as she was, but he hadn't wanted to back off. It had been all he could do not to grind himself against her, and he'd decided then and there that it had been as good a time as any to let her know the way things were between them.

  She had tried to deny he wanted her.

  He still felt incredulous at that. The only thing that had kept his temper in check was that she hadn't been able to hide her response to him. He'd felt the subtle changes in her body, seen the dazed blankness of desire in her eyes, even though she wasn't ready to admit to any of it yet.

  Satisfaction eased some of his frustration as he watched Anna go about her job. She was pleasant and courteous, quiet and efficient. She walked with a graceful, no-nonsense stride that didn't quite succeed in being all business, courtesy of the feminine sway of her hips and the deliciously female shape of her bottom. The black skirt she was wearing ended just below midthigh, revealing legs that were slender, yet firmly muscled, with exquisite definition around the calves. They were the legs of an athlete, or someone who did a great deal of walking. He frowned at the thought of just how much walking Anna must do. She didn't own a car. Last night she had been attacked while out walking.

  His gaze narrowed when he considered all that she was hiding from him. She had gone pale when she realised how easily he had tracked her down. He had a definite answer to one of his questions at least: she was on the run. Now all he had to do was find out from what, or whom, and then convince her to trust him enough that she would let him help her.

  Of course, she could be running from the law – that would be something to check up on, although he would do the checking privately. If he found she was wanted by the police, he would make a decision about what to do when he found out how serious her crime was. Nothing about Anna suggested that she was a criminal, but appearances could be deceptive. She was feminine and soft, elegant and graceful, but her femininity hid a core of pure steel that kept stopping him in his tracks.

  He hadn't got any further with finding out her real identity. She was prickly and defensive, and he was under no illusions that she would give up that information easily.

  He would have to be careful with her. More careful than he had ever been with a woman. The steel had surfaced in her gaze a couple of times, and he suspected there would be occasions when they would fight like hell, but that only made him want her more. A woman who couldn't stand up for herself wouldn't interest him for long.

  He went very still when he realised he was thinking in relationship terms, despite how little he knew about her. He examined the concept and felt a subtle relaxing of the tension inside him, a sense of having reached a decision.

  He didn't know where any of this would take him, whether this was the beginning of a long-term relationship or just a short, fiery fling that, when the sex finally burned out, would be over, but he wanted to find out.

  *

  Anna had just finished clearing another table when a customer lifted his hand, catching her eye.

  "Hey, darlin'. How 'bout my fries? I ordered them half an hour ago."

  Anna eyed the three men sprawled in the adjacent booth, keeping her face carefully blank. They were young, muscled and tattooed, their gang affiliation emblazoned on their leather jackets, eyes jaded, flat with aggression. So far they'd been no trouble, but they had been drinking beer steadily as they ate. "I brought your fries."

  "Then why am I still hungry?" he whined, holding his hand over his heart.

  There was a burst of laughter, followed by some rough ribbing.

  "If you're still hungry, I'll take another order."

  "Don't be like that, sweet thing. I'm a man with … appetites. I was wondering what else might be on the menu."

  Anna collected her tray. "We sell food and beer," she said coolly. "You want anything else, that's not my concern."

  One of the hookers sauntered past, on her way back from the juke box. "Ignore him, honey," she said with a wink. "We'll take care of lover boy … if he minds his manners."

  His hand snapped out, catching hold of Anna's wrist. "Maybe I don' wanna pay for it," he said softly. "Looked like you were serving up more than just coffee a few minutes ago."

  Already off balance, Anna deliberately allowed her tray to tilt even further, so that a half-finished, iced soda tipped into his lap. He released her wrist to grab at the cup, leaping to his feet, swearing, as cold liquid soaked into the front of his jeans and ice-cubes scattered. "Why you—"

  He lunged forward, trying to snag her wrist again, but Anna had already backed out of range, furious at herself for letting him grab hold of her in the first place. His eyes narrowed in his flushed face as he flung the paper cup aside and started after her.

  Anna heard one of the other waitresses yelling for Harry, the bouncer, who was occupied playing pool, but before Harry could intervene, Blade had cut in front of Anna, partially blocking her view.

  "I wouldn't," he said.

  His voice vibrated in a low, soft register, making all the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.

  The man froze, jaw dropping in an expression of ludicrous surprise. The whole restaurant grew silent, except for the snap of billiard balls connecting and the husky, background throb of a blues singer.

  The young man's two friends stirred restlessly but didn't stand up to support their crony.

  His gaze flicked to Anna, then slid away. "It's cool, man." His hands lifted, palms displayed, as he backed off. "Didn't realise she was yours. I was just havin' a little fun."

  "Have it somewhere else."

  To Anna's surprise, all three men backed off completely. Within seconds, they had vacated the booth, leaving nothing behind but the mess from their meal.

  The
doors swung shut behind the three men, and conversation returned to its normal level. Confrontation was part of the culture at Joe's, and on the scale of things, this one hadn't even been that interesting. No-one had thrown a punch; nothing had gotten broken.

  Blade's attention immediately shifted to Anna, his expression still set in lines of cold ferocity. "Are you all right?"

  For long seconds she couldn't answer; she was completely absorbed by this side of Blade, which she had instinctively known was there. He might be a businessman now, but beneath the mantle of expensive clothing, he was pure warrior.

  "I'm okay. He didn't hurt me. I think he came off worse."

  With a sigh, she set the tray down, snagged a cloth and went down on her haunches to clean up the spilled soda. She straightened up and tossed the soiled cloth on the tray, but then had to steady herself by gripping the edge of the table. She'd forgotten about her headache. Bending down had made her head swim.

  Blade said something low and harsh beneath his breath. His hands closed on her upper arms, turning her to face him. "Don't you ever give up? You are not okay."

  "It's just a headache. When I go out to the kitchen, I'll take an aspirin. Thanks for handling that guy for me."

  His hands tightened on her arms. His head bent to hers, so that his face filled her vision, and she couldn't avoid his gaze locking with hers. His expression was intense, concerned. He wanted to help her, and his will battered her, wiped her mind clean of everything but him. For the first time in her life outside of those tormenting, insubstantial dreams, she shivered under the mesmerising need to yield to the fierce, male demand that burned in his dark eyes. He wanted to care for her, protect her. He was seducing her with a look, and she was losing the battle fast.

  "Anna…" He paused, and she felt the sharpness of his frustration. "Dammit," he muttered. "I don't want you working here."

  Anna blinked, utterly astounded. He didn't want her working here? "I have to finish my shift."

  "Otherwise you don't get paid."

  She stiffened. He knew. Somehow he knew that she was working illegally. The only way he could have found that out was if he had made inquiries. She swallowed her alarm, carefully blanking her expression. "That's right. If I don't finish my shift, I walk out of here with nothing."

  "All right," he said slowly, as if he was making a major concession. "We'll do this your way, but I'm making sure you get home safely. What time does your shift finish?"

  Anna repeated the time. He stared into her eyes for so long Anna thought he would challenge what she'd just told him. His perception was acute, the calm determination in his expression about as giving as tempered steel. She could feel his frustration at being thwarted simmering just beneath the surface, feel the control he exerted to keep it in check.

  His gaze shifted to her mouth, but he didn't attempt to get any closer; the look was enough, hooded, weighted with an intent that made her shiver inside. He hadn't done anything so crude as kiss her in front of the interested audience in the restaurant. He hadn't needed to – that look had accomplished just as much.

  "I'll see you at five," he said, and left.

  Chapter 5

  Blade started the Jeep, put the vehicle in gear and eased out of his parking space.

  His hand tightened on the wheel. He was sweating, shaking, rage still burning through him. He'd decided to leave before he gave in to the impulse to pick Anna up and simply carry her out of there. He hadn't liked seeing her tired and run off her feet. He'd liked it even less when that young tough had come on to her, then almost dug his own grave by threatening her.

  His teeth ground together. The cat and mouse game of seduction was damn well over. In his family, women were loved and cherished, protected. No-one – no man – it seemed, cared enough to look after Anna.

  But he did.

  The thought settled and took root as he cruised to the exit and waited for a break in traffic. When he picked Anna up tonight he would lay his feelings on the line and tell her she wasn't going back to Joe's. He didn't care what the hell kind of fight they had over it, but he wouldn't let her back inside that sleazy joint. There had to be any number of places she could work, jobs that she would enjoy more than waitressing.

  He would find her another job. With Lombards. Although she would probably throw that suggestion back in his face. A wry flicker of amusement eased some of his tension. Nothing about Anna suggested that she would willingly accept charity. There was a fundamental dignity and pride underlying everything she did – a bedrock of honesty at odds with the way she was living. He didn't know why she was working illegally or living under a false name, but he was suddenly certain that when he investigated her, he would find that if she had broken any laws at all, she hadn't done so willingly. If she was on the run, it had to be because someone wanted to hurt her.

  *

  As Blade drove out of the car park, a brown sedan drove in. The man exited and walked into Joe's, limping slightly. He took a seat, instantly noting the hookers prowling the lanes between the tables, and viewed the menu, although he wasn't hungry. A waitress took his order, and while he waited for the coffee, he casually noted each of the waitresses working the tables. When he found the one he was seeking, he unfolded the newspaper he had carried in with him and disappeared behind it. His coffee arrived, and he drank it, grimacing because it was so bad.

  When he was finished, he used the rest room, then went out to his car – which was positioned to watch the staff entrance – and set himself to wait.

  *

  An hour before her shift was due to end, Anna left Joe's – for good. She had cash in her pocket, although not nearly as much as she should have had. The manager, Rafferty, had short-changed her, paying her for less than half the hours she'd worked. She had expected him to rip her off, and she hadn't been disappointed. Rafferty had pocketed the bulk of her wages, openly enjoying her surge of helpless rage when he'd slipped the notes into his wallet.

  She needed that money. But there had been nothing she could do, no protest she could make, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of pleading. The money she had would have to do until she could find a new job. Her carefully hoarded reserve of cash would get her through a couple of weeks, even a month, if she was careful.

  Automatically, she studied cars and people as she walked toward the bus stop, but it was difficult to concentrate on who might or might not be wanting to kill her when the traffic and pedestrians looked so ordinary, and when the events of the past twenty-four hours had left her feeling alternately shattered and numb.

  It had rained again just minutes before, but now the wind had dropped away and the sun was shining, warmth and light bathing everything in a hazy brilliance. Steam rose in wisps off the warming surface of the road. There were people strolling in open-necked shirts, coats slung over their arms, but she couldn't feel warm.

  She had changed out of her waitressing uniform into jeans and a sweater before leaving, but even so, she huddled into her coat as she walked, one hand balled tight and shoved deep into a pocket for warmth, the fingers of her other hand locked around the handle of her briefcase, stiff with cold.

  The cold came from somewhere deep inside her, like the chill of a fever or the onset of shock. She had felt it often enough to know she would have difficulty getting warm, no matter how many clothes she wore.

  She came to a halt at the bus stop as the bus hove into view.

  She'd made a start at stopping Henry's legal machinations yesterday and failed, but she wouldn't make that mistake twice. This time she would research her options thoroughly before exposing herself. What she was about to do both frightened and energised her. She felt as if she'd been caught and tossed up on the leading edge of a strong storm wind and was still tumbling wildly, but she had been running for so long, it felt good to finally turn and fight.

  Once she established her identity and set the legal wheels in motion, she would have access to her own money. The dilemma of finding a job would cease to
exist, although the thought of having money again hardly registered. She had spent the first twenty years of her life with access to a great deal of wealth, but it was hard now to imagine anything but scrimping and saving.

  With a dawning sense of shock, she realised how restricted and closed her life had become. For nearly seven years she hadn't so much lived as survived. The stretch of time, of years, suddenly staggered her, so that she swayed where she was standing and had to reach out to the bus stop sign for support.

  She had lost the best years of her life, years when she should have been dating, falling in love, making a career for herself, maybe even getting married and starting a family. She was almost twenty-seven now, and she had less than nothing. She was alone.

  Blade's face swam before her – his expression sharply male, black eyes not cool, but fierce with concern and something else that even now made her chest tighten against a pang of desolation. Tenderness.

  She had given Blade the usual time for her shift to finish, omitting to tell him that today she had arranged to leave early. She had felt like she was betraying him – she had felt like she was betraying herself – but her decision had been made last night. No matter how violently she was drawn to Blade, no matter how tempted she was to lean on him and let him help solve her problems, she refused to drag him into danger with her.

  The thought that Henry might harm Blade in some way sent a hot rush of fury through her. She wouldn't allow it, just as she wouldn't allow Henry to hurt her any longer.

  The bus wheezed to a halt. The doors swished open, and automatically, she climbed on board, pulled her ticket from her pocket to be clipped, found an empty seat and sat down. She barely noticed any of the other passengers or the jerky stop-and-go rhythm of the bus as it wound slowly along its regular route. All her attention was focused inward.