Relentless

by Leigh, Jo

  Dinner had been odd but interesting. He’d fixed his famous spaghetti and sausage, and she’d made a salad. The wine, a damn good chardonnay, had been less than successful. She’d had one glass, no more. And while he’d turned on the charm and used all the subtle interrogation tricks in his arsenal, she hadn’t given an inch.

  He had no idea where she came from, who her family was. She’d been just as cryptic about her supposed stalker and why she was so determined to live under the radar. Damn. Talk about a hard nut to crack.

  All she’d really succeeded in doing was making him more curious. And more determined.

  Just the way she ate made him crazy. Little bites between even, white teeth. Totally controlled and in the Continental style. Had she lived in Europe? Was she even an American citizen?

  And then there was the way she looked at him. No dodging, no sweating, no tells at all. Even though he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that she was lying, none of her body language gave it away. How had she learned that? Was she actually a grifter? The only people he’d known who could do that as convincingly were con artists of the highest order. But he didn’t get that vibe off Kate, although that could just mean she was extraordinarily good at her job.

  But why would she live in a dive of a motel or work for room service, for that matter? No con artist he’d ever known would go that far undercover.

  Vince sat up, the quilt falling off the couch with his sudden move. She was undercover. Shit, why hadn’t he realized that before? Probably for Interpol, which would explain the whole eating thing. And that’s why she couldn’t testify.

  He got off the couch and started pacing. It was dark in the room, but he knew the space so well he didn’t need to turn on a light. His thoughts tumbled all over themselves as piece after piece of Kate’s puzzle came together.

  It all made sense. He had no idea what she could be investigating, but there had to be some kind of cooperation between agencies, even if the agency was overseas. Yes, that had to be it. He’d talk to her—she wouldn’t need to blow her cover. Something could be done, and she could tell him what he needed to know, and then—

  Even if she had seen the killers, she wouldn’t be able to give him more than general descriptions, but that would be enough. He’d know what gang they were from, and he knew how to put the pressure on. He’d get there, he would. He just had to make sure Kate came clean.

  * * * * *

  IT WAS JUST AFTER SEVEN, and Kate had to get her act together. She needed a shower, she needed breakfast, and she needed Nate to get off his ass and get her out of here.

  She gathered her clothes and bath supplies and headed for the bathroom. Although the bed had been comfortable, she hadn’t slept well. A new place was always disconcerting, but, more than that, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man in the living room.

  She’d actually had a nice evening. He’d been a charming and considerate host, and he hadn’t even pressed her too much. He couldn’t help asking questions, but when she’d sidestepped each one, he’d had the decency to let it slide. Today, of course, could be quite a different matter. Who knew what he’d do to get what he wanted?

  If only she’d hear from Nate. They had to have a plan, and time was running out. The longer she stayed with Vince, the greater the chances the gang would discover her whereabouts. Not to mention the repercussions from the photo. Did Omicron already know? Had they figured out that Kate Rydell was actually Katherine Ashman?

  She didn’t hear anything from the living room, so maybe he was still sleeping. She’d call Nate again from the bathroom, even though it was early. He’d be grumpy, but too bad. There was too much—

  She stopped, startled, as she saw the bathroom was already occupied by a seminaked Vince Yarrow, with shaving lotion on half his face. Her gaze moved down to his chest, all broad and tanned and nicely muscled, and then down a bit more to the unbuttoned jeans riding low on his slim hips.

  “Morning.”

  Jerking her eyes up guiltily, she cleared her throat and tugged at her belt. “Sorry. Just let me know when you’re done.”

  “There’s coffee made.”

  She smiled, willing the heat from her face. “Great. Thanks.”

  Vince returned to shaving and she walked quickly to the kitchen. Once there, she put her bath things on the counter and fixed herself a mug.

  Boy, she hadn’t been prepared for that little trip to libido land. She already knew he was pretty hot, but she’d had no idea he looked like that. Mama.

  Okay, it was officially too long since she’d had any kind of sex. She’d barely even acknowledged sex existed. Not for her, anyway.

  Seeing Christie and Boone fall for each other had been sweet, but kind of like watching a movie. It had had nothing to do with her, and it hadn’t touched her at all.

  In her own defense, it was hard to think about dating when people were trying to kill you. And when you couldn’t possibly tell the truth about anything in your life. So, yeah, she’d cut herself some slack and hadn’t thought about it. Until now.

  He had just the right amount of hair on his chest. Dark, curly, it showed off his muscles very nicely. She especially liked the narrow trail that slipped beneath his jeans.

  She took a drink of coffee and gasped as it burnt the roof of her mouth. She cursed, then put the mug on the table.

  A low, slow chuckle made her turn. Vince stood in the doorway, now shaved and fully dressed. At least his T-shirt was on the tight side. “Why, Kate. Such language.”

  “I know a lot more, so don’t get me started.”

  “Me? I’d never dream of it. Bathroom’s all yours.”

  “Thanks.” She gathered her few things, and the mug, then headed out.

  “You like pancakes?” he asked, just as she hit the door.

  “They’re okay.”

  “I’ll cook us up a batch.”

  “I’m just as happy with cold cereal, so don’t go to any trouble for me.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not.”

  “Okay, then,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “And Kate?”

  “Yeah?”

  “My eyes are up here.”

  She jerked her head up, then spun on her heels. She was so busted. God, she hadn’t even realized she’d been staring like that. And not just at his chest.

  The minute she closed the bathroom door behind her, she used all the swear words she knew, some of them twice.

  * * * * *

  DESPITE HIS EXHAUSTION, Nate wheeled the old Cutlass toward home in a convoluted route that he varied regularly. Except for the rush hour traffic he had to fight, he was glad he’d finished work early so he could take it easy tonight. He needed sleep desperately. It was difficult to concentrate on his security business while there was so much to be done now that the Omicron bugs were in place. But the money had to come from somewhere.

  He pulled in to the driveway that led to the garage behind his tiny house. He got his cell phone out and dialed Peter, the man for whom he’d subcontracted today’s security installation, and waited.

  The machine answered, and after the beep he said, “Job’s done, Pete. It’s about four-fifteen and I’m home for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow about the money. ’Night.” He disconnected and climbed out of the car.

  Automatically, he checked the pair of windows as he passed them on the way to the front door. Since the small rental had no back door, even in inclement weather he had to make his way around. On the plus side, with only four windows and one door, it was a lot easier to maintain security.

  He opened the door and went in, immediately opening two of the windows to get a cross breeze. He turned on his coffeemaker and the small TV that sat on his makeshift desk.

  As the savory smell of coffee permeated his rooms, he wrote out the bill for Peter, carefully noting the hours and the various devices he’d installed, including several hundred feet of Belden multipair cable. When the bill was complete, he put it in an envelope and set i
t to the side.

  He opened his laptop, running now on house power, and entered the password that would allow him to play back everything the Omicron bug had picked up. He turned the volume up and went to pour a cup of coffee.

  His thoughts turned to Kate and how he was going to get her from the detective’s house as he filtered through what he was hearing on the tape. So far nothing sounded out of the ordinary—just the usual chatter that went on in offices.

  He took out the map of Tujunga, sipping his coffee and letting the stress of the day ease from his back and shoulders as he went through different scenarios and various routes. Kate said the detective was sharp, that it wouldn’t be easy to fool him, so they’d probably have to drug him. Not Nate’s favorite method, but they had to get Kate out.

  He was close to stopping for the night when something caught his attention. He ran the recording back to the start.

  Suddenly he was wide awake. “Shit,” he said. He stopped the playback again and pulled out his cell phone. A minute later Seth was on the line.

  “I got something,” Nate said.

  “What?”

  “They’ve got a warehouse. A storage facility.”

  “Jesus, man. Where?”

  Nate chewed his lower lip. “City of Industry. I don’t have an address, though.”

  “Hey, if we can find it, we can expose those bastards.”

  “It’s worth a try. Just knowing they’ve made enough of that crap to need a warehouse…We’ve got to move on this.”

  There was a moment of silence from Seth’s end. “Can you save just that conversation?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s do that and sleep on it,” Seth said. “We’ll figure something out. After we get Kate.”

  “That stuff can kill one hell of a lot of people, Seth.”

  “Not if we get the bastards first.”

  * * * * *

  Kate was in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled great. He’d offered to help, but she’d chased him away. It was nice.

  She’d been quiet today, and he hadn’t yet figured out how to bring up the whole undercover thing. The more he thought about it, though, the more convinced he became that he’d figured her out.

  He thought again about that box of stuff she guarded so carefully. He needed to see what was in there, but even he realized that would be a major invasion of her privacy. Besides, he wanted her as an ally, not an enemy.

  He turned on his laptop and checked his e-mail. There was a note there from Tim’s wife. He opened it, afraid of what she had to say, but she just wanted to let him know about the funeral.

  God, he didn’t want to go to that. Of course, he had to. Not just to pay his respects, but to see who else showed up. It was quite possible that the killers would come to gloat. At the very least, Vince could question whoever showed up to see if they’d heard anything.

  It was odd that the killers hadn’t taken credit for the job. Most of the gangs he knew so well would have used the murder for their own aggrandizement. Either telling tales around the crack pipe or boasting in graffiti on the walls of the city. Someone had to know who’d pulled the trigger. Aside from Kate, that was.

  He answered Liz Purchase, then quickly went through the rest of his mail. One e-mail stopped him. It was from George, Tim’s assistant. According to him, gang violence since Tim’s death was out of control. Six deaths, four drive-bys and at least four armed robberies, all attributable to gangs who’d been quiet for a long while. Most of them were believed to be in disputes over Tim’s territory. Attendance at Purchase House was down to almost nothing, and George was debating closing the doors for good.

  Vince shut the computer off without answering. All this shit was raining down on the city, and here he was playing house. He should forget about protecting her. Maybe the smart thing to do was to cut her loose, then trail her. When the gang came to kill her, he’d know. Of course, that was taking a pretty big chance with her life. But goddammit, kids were dying out there. Lots of them. And if she wouldn’t help voluntarily, maybe he needed to take away her options.

  “Okay,” Kate said, calling to him from the kitchen. “Dinner.”

  He looked at the door, picturing her in her jeans and her sweater, her long dark hair so shiny on her shoulders. She was a beautiful woman, and he wished like hell he’d met her some other way. He could tell she didn’t find him repulsive or anything. Not the way she kept staring at him, stealing looks when she thought he couldn’t see.

  Hell, the wine hadn’t worked. The pleading had been a bust. Maybe the answer lay between the sheets. The idea held plenty of appeal.

  He headed to the kitchen where Kate had set the table. She was at the stove, taking out a casserole dish. She smiled at him as she put it down on a waiting trivet. “How about you get us some drinks.”

  “White wine?”

  “Sure,” she said. “But I’m not going to have more than one glass.”

  “You don’t like pinot?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “You aren’t going to get me drunk so I’ll talk.”

  “Hey.”

  “Don’t even try to deny it. You’re about as subtle as a Mack truck.”

  “Fine. Have it your way. But it wouldn’t kill you to relax a little. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “Thanks. Your compassion is touching.”

  He walked closer and put his hand on her arm. “Believe it or not, I can be a nice guy. Not often, mind you, but from time to time.”

  She didn’t move or look away. That straightforward stare had him wishing that he’d had no ulterior motives. God damn, she was beautiful.

  “Wine,” she said, her voice soft and deep.

  He moved his hand down her arm, squeezing her gently. When he let go, he heard her take a sharp breath. The moment was over quickly, though, with her getting the salad from the counter and setting it on the table.

  He busied himself with the wine, and a few moments later, they were seated. The food, a chicken and rice concoction, smelled great. For the first time since this morning, she had trouble looking at him. It was a start.

  After dinner, he’d put on some music, build a fire. Who knows, maybe the combination would help break down some of her walls. And when the time was right, he’d ask her who she was working for. Tell her he knew she was undercover.

  It would be fascinating to see her response. Of course, there wasn’t much about her that he didn’t find fascinating.

  Chapter 7

  Kate took another sip of wine as she watched him eat. She hadn’t been sure about his intentions until he’d reacted, but his quick denial said it all. The awful thing was, she completely understood his desperation. She knew what it was to feel helpless against such an incredible wrong, and how the need to make it right could consume every waking thought.

  They were alike in so many ways. Vince reminded her of her father. In his younger days, he’d been an activist against the Vietnam War, and his passion and dedication had changed people’s lives. And, like Vince, her father had never made a production of his cause. He’d simply done the work—all the things that most people didn’t want to bother with. Making the phone calls, getting the word out, fighting the battle through logic and tenacity. She’d learned about his struggles through others. Her mother, her uncle. Never from her father.

  It impressed her that Vince had stuck it out in the gang unit for three years. She was no expert, but she knew enough about L.A. street

  gangs to understand the kind of courage and sacrifice it took to face that nightmare every day. She didn’t believe he’d quit, either. Not him. He was too young, and his passion ran too deep.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “Nothing,” she said, not realizing she had been. “This is good wine.”

  He picked up the bottle and poured a little more into her glass. “I’m actually more of a whiskey guy, myself. But wine’s good every once in a while.”

  “Whiskey, huh? That makes sens
e.”

  “Why?”

  “You tough guys like that hard stuff.”

  He shook his head. “I just like the fact that I can go from zero to blasted in about five minutes.”

  “Blasted, huh? You do that often?”

  “Not as often as I’d like. Hangovers are hell when you carry a gun.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  He finished off the casserole on his plate, then put his fork down. It felt good that he’d liked her cooking. She used to enjoy her time in the kitchen, especially in Kosovo, where the women had taught her to make the local delicacies. Since she’d been on the run, she hadn’t had many opportunities to cook. Even if she had the time, she mostly didn’t have the money to buy anything decent.

  Cooking was just one of a hundred things she missed. And being here with Vince had awakened yet another loss. She missed men. Not that she didn’t see a lot of Nate and Seth, but they were comrades in arms, not dates. Not lovers. Not anymore.

  She and Nate had only gone out for a little while. Then the shit had hit the fan and it became all business. Back in the States, she’d believed him to be dead for over a year, and when he’d turned out to be alive she’d realized again that their brief affair wouldn’t have gone anywhere, even if things had gone down differently.

  No, while she loved and admired Nate, he wasn’t for her. He was, at the core, a man with huge appetites. He needed the danger as most men need to breathe. His appetite for women was just as voracious.

  She wanted something quieter and deeper.

  “You okay?”

  She found she was looking at Vince, although she hadn’t actually seen him. “I’m fine. I’ll just do up the dishes.” She stood and took his plate and hers to the sink.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, standing, too. “You cooked, I clean.”

  “It’s okay. Really.”

  He came up beside her and grabbed a dishcloth from the counter. “I’ll dry.”

  She nodded. “Fine.”

  “You want to tell me what that was about?”

  “It was nothing. I’m fine.”

  “I know, but you also looked incredibly sad. I hope it wasn’t anything I said.”