by Nina Bruhns
Jesse stiffened when she saw him approaching. His casual stride belied the power radiating off of him. Drawing her protective cloak around herself, Jesse assumed an indifferent pose. Her heart thudded so hard in her chest she was sure he would hear it. Refusing to be intimidated, she raised her chin and met him with a glare. It was a look designed to repel the most intrepid would-be suitors. The easy grin on his handsome face confirmed he wasn’t impressed or intimidated by her fierce glare.
Dameon had watched a parade of men surreptitiously find an excuse to move in the redhead’s direction. In each case they were met with a stony stare. Visibly shriveling, they slunk away. If any were brazen enough to make it through the first gauntlet, within thirty seconds they also turned tail and ran. Dameon didn’t know what she said to them but whatever it was, it was potent. It stopped eager prowling men in their tracks. Which made her even more interesting to him. He shrugged. What the hell? Why not throw his hat in the ring? All she could do was stomp on it.
Ignoring the icy glare she turned on him, he came just close enough to invade her personal space without overtly threatening her. Resisting the urge to touch her, he kept his voice casual, pleasant.
“You’re new here.” It was a statement not a question.
She responded as tersely as he expected.
“Yes, and?”
He smiled. “That was rhetorical.”
She merely raised a bored eyebrow and turned away.
Dameon persisted. “We don’t get a lot of newcomers at events like this.”
“I guess I should be honored to have been invited.” Her snippy response was accompanied by a further lift of her chin.
Given that he got more than a two word response, Dameon declared progress and decided to up the ante. Ignoring the brush off, he narrowed his eyes and thoughtfully studied her. The smile lurking in the corner of his mouth was the only give away that he was teasing her.
“No, you’re definitely new. No way I would’ve forgotten you if I’d seen you before.”
To his surprise, she whirled on him, her eyes flashing. It was the first time he was close enough to appreciate the color of her eyes. He had seen stormy oceans that green, that turbulent, but they had never been this bewitchingly beautiful. Facing her full-on, he was stunned. She was even lovelier close up. And her fragrance was as enticing as the rest of her. She smelled like lemon and exotic verbena, two of his favorite fragrances.
Her glare hardened. “Let me help you. The answer is no.”
“Hmm. And the question?”
“No--to any of the suggestions you were about to make.”
Dameon’s eyes crinkled and he shot her a devastating grin. He kept his response as curt as hers. “I see.”
Obviously determined to get rid of him, she clarified. “I’ve found that a blanket ‘no’ cuts short the conversation; as well as getting rid of all the unwanted suggestions and unwarranted assumptions.”
Holding her gaze, he perused her attentively managing to stifle his grin.
“Hmm. May I presume that you get a lot of unwanted requests and unwarranted assumptions?”
She tossed her head. “That’s an accurate presumption.”
Dameon couldn’t help but smile at her. She reminded him of Sheba, his Siamese cat, who arched her back whenever he came near. If he startled the feline princess, he was lucky if he got a growl or a hiss instead of a swipe of her paw. But this was the same cat that crawled up and slept at his feet every night. Knowing how unlikely that was, Dameon moved a few steps closer to the prickly woman and offered a truce.
“I’ve got a suggestion. Instead of questions and one word answers, how about we start our conversation like normal people do--by introducing ourselves?”
She gave him a dismissive shrug.
“That’s not necessary. I already know who you are.”
Dameon reared back in surprise. “You do, huh? So in addition to being beautiful, you’re also psychic?” He raked his eyes up and down her bodacious body and winked. “Why am I not surprised?”
She took an additional step back and tossed him a frosty smile.
“Trust me. I know you. You’re the arrogant asshole who sees a redheaded woman with big tits and automatically assumes that she’s a whore. And… you’re wondering how much it will cost you to get a look at these tits.”
A sneer tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Do I have that about right?”
Dameon’s eyes flared. His voice was cool.
“Actually, no, you don’t. But I do have a question for you.”
At that moment, a tall, good-looking Latino man came rushing toward them. His dark, almost black eyes flashed with appreciation. He grabbed Jesse’s arm and pulled her close. “My dear, I’ve been looking for you. I’m sorry I was late. Forgive me.”
Dameon retreated, annoyance flooding him. Christ, he should have known. A woman like this? Brazen, beautiful, standoffish? Of course. A woman who looks and acts the way this one does would have to belong to some rich bastard. A man who owns a herd of Texas oil wells perhaps, or in this case is as well-connected to the Mexican mafia as his old buddy Raoul Morales.
Nodding to the strikingly handsome dark-haired man, Dameon greeted him with a cool smile.
“Good evening, Raoul. Nice to see you.”
The Latino’s eyes danced with amusement.
“Likewise, Dameon. I see you’ve met my gorgeous escort, Jesse O’Donnell. I’m not surprised that you discovered her, bro.” Turning to Jesse, he grinned. “So, Jess, you’ve met our handsome and charming police chief?”
Jesse threw Dameon a startled glance then quickly looked down.
Dameon interjected. “No, Raoul. We haven’t formally met. I was just about to correct an assumption Ms. O’Donnell made.” He captured her gaze and refused to relinquish it. “Your escort mistook me for other men she’s known.” Gratified to see Jesse’s cheeks flush, Dameon extended his hand. When she reluctantly offered hers, he grasped it firmly with a slight bow. “Let me properly introduce myself. My name is Dameon Macarios. I’m the police chief of this fair city.”
Raoul wrapped a big arm around Jesse’s shoulders and gave her a mock warning.
“Don’t let all that charm and Hollywood good looks convince you otherwise, Jesse. Dameon is the meanest, toughest son of a bitch you’ll ever meet.”
A smile fought with Dameon’s stern expression. “May I return the compliment, Raoul?”
Hearing a man on the other side of the hallway shouting at him, Raoul huffed an annoyed grunt.
“Jesse, I’m sorry. Please excuse me for a moment. Let me get that annoying asshole off my back and then I’ll introduce you to all the makers and shakers in this bustling metropolis of ours. Although, I have to admit, you’ve already met our most famous star, my old buddy Dameon. We call him ‘Wolf.’ ”
Raoul leaned over and bussed her cheek. He headed across the room, leaving Jesse pale and shaken in his wake.
Jesse stood still for a moment wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. They were too far from California to pray for an earthquake and just her luck that tornado season was over. Squashing her embarrassment, she took a deep breath and faced her tormentor.
Minutes ago, his eyes had danced with teasing humor. Now they were cool, hard. She’d seen how he reacted to Raoul. He’d concluded that she was Raoul’s mistress, which would confirm his first impression. Jesse recognized that look. She’d been around cops and tough guys all her life. To them there were two kinds of women. The kind they married--and whores.
Proving her point, Dameon clasped her arm. His touch was as electric as his startling blue eyes. Being this close affirmed that even in four inch heels he loomed over her. It didn’t help that he smelled of expensive cologne and strong man. She flinched and pulled away but his gaze was as powerful as his grip.
Dameon’s voice was low, commanding.
“The question I was going to ask wasn’t how much you cost. Or, whether
you would like to sleep with me. Although I’ll admit those are both interesting propositions. No. The question I had is, whether you have a permit for that weapon you’re carrying?”
Jesse startled but quickly recovered. Twisting out of his grip, she gave a flippant shrug as she walked away. “Which one?”
Red Rock Rises: Chapter Two
Dameon stared after her, a toxic cocktail of emotions tearing at his gut. He couldn’t remember when he’d been more attracted to a woman. That was the only way he could explain how far off the mark he’d been. Damn, he’d always prided himself on his shrewd antennae. He could sniff out a criminal the way an owl could spot a mouse in a field of tall grass. How could he have been so blind? Christ, the ignominy of it burned. The hell of it was that she was correct. Red hair and a pair of bodacious breasts had brought his crack observation skills to a screeching halt. At least he’d seen her apprehension, her edgy reactions. But sap that he was he’d mistaken them for nervousness, anxiety. Fuck a duck for the horny asshole he’d been. With an embarrassed sigh he admitted he’d even thought she might be shy.
Stiffening his shoulders, Dameon made a point of keeping her in his line of sight. Now that he knew that, in addition to his own lawmen, Raoul and his moll were also armed, this little soiree was getting more interesting. He’d positioned his men around the room, cognizant of the status of the attendees. The guest of honor, a former councilman who’d thrown his hat in the ring to become New Mexico’s next U.S. Senator, was standing in a crowd of well-wishers. A crowd that now included Raoul and his mistress. Even saying it to himself hurt. Dameon was self-aware enough to acknowledge that it was his pride that was injured. The sexpot had short-circuited his vaunted professional savvy. Not an easy thing to do, or so he’d thought.
Dameon watched Raoul introduce Jesse to Councilman Hernandez. The slight flush on her cheeks and the wariness he’d noted earlier were still apparent. If the garrulous Raoul noticed, it didn’t stop him from pushing her forward. Soon Jesse was in the center of an admiring crowd of men, many of whom Dameon had seen her give the stink-eye to only minutes earlier. Clearly she didn’t appreciate the gang surrounding her. Her nervousness was obvious. At least he hadn’t been wrong about that. But now he knew it was more likely jealousy, possessiveness, rather than simple anxiety. She kept looking over her shoulder, keeping a close eye on Raoul. Dameon wished her luck. In addition to his shady associations, Raoul was an inveterate womanizer. Dameon felt a pang of satisfaction watching her jealous reaction to the bevy of women who’d surrounded Raoul as tightly as their spouses were crowding Jesse.
Dameon had to give Raoul credit. He was moving among the elite as though he were one of them. And dammit, he was. His boyhood friend had asked Dameon on several occasions to give him the benefit of the doubt, to see that he was trying to change his ways, shake off his heritage. In Dameon’s cop mentality, Raoul was attempting the impossible. Nephew to Victor Morales, the declared head of the Morales cartel, Raoul insisted he was determined to cut the ties that bound him to the family. He told Dameon that in deference to Raoul’s dead father, who was the big man’s brother, his uncle had warned off his goons. Supposedly that left Raoul free to build his own legitimate collection of related businesses. Dameon guffawed at the thought. He could have told Raoul--indeed he had, on several occasions--that if you wanted to go straight, carving out an empire that was as questionable as the one he’d supposedly left behind was a problematic choice. The police force under Dameon’s leadership didn’t buy Raoul’s nominal conversion. Neither did the cartel. In the unlikely event that Raoul was serious about his reformation, he was riding the edge of a very sharp sword.
Jesse felt Dameon’s hard gaze. She knew he was watching her. Now that he had her pegged, his cop’s antennae must be sending a barrage of signals. It wasn’t hard to guess what those signals were. She’d seen his distaste; his dark frown had said it all. For a moment, she allowed herself to remember the teasing light in his spectacular eyes, the curve of his full inviting lips. Fortunately she was as accomplished as he was at reading people. But unlike the police chief, she was never wrong. She’d learned early on, men saw one thing when they looked at her. Even the good ones saw the redheaded bitch with the big tits. Jesse didn’t mind. Hell, she knew what she looked like. Instead, she used that knowledge to her advantage and never gave a man the benefit of the doubt, even the supposed nice ones. Her attitude had been cultivated by years of experience. The men she was close to earned their way into her trust. It was a tight circle and a small one.
Raoul was a character. Jesse couldn’t help but smile at her client while at the same time wanting to wring his neck. For God’s sake, how do you protect a guy who was not only a chick magnet but had important men crowding around him three deep? She gave up being subtle and fastened an eagle eye on the women encircling her employer. Let them think she was a jealous shrew. At least that way she could stay within several feet of Raoul without being caught in the snare of men around her. Maybe the men and the women hovering close would get the picture that the disgusted-looking police chief had clearly gotten. She and Raoul were together and she for one was going to make sure of that.
Dameon was the first to spot the thugs. Goons were goons, no matter how they tried to clean themselves up. Silk shirts and classy sport coats couldn’t hide the double rigs under their jackets. Catching Charlie Rockford’s eye, Dameon was glad to see his lieutenant was as quick as he was. Dameon’s Glock had barely cleared his belt before the shots rang out. In the screams that followed there was a barrage of gunfire.
He hadn’t realized that his first concern would spontaneously be the very woman whose presence had bedeviled him throughout the evening. Locating her across the room, Dameon saw to his shock that the redhead’s Walther was out as quickly as his and Charlie’s weapons were. Clearly reacting to the bullets that were headed their way she landed on Raoul, covering his body with hers and throwing them both to the floor. Dameon felt a modicum of begrudging respect. Hanging with a drug kingpin had clearly sharpened her reaction time.
Assuming that she was safe, Dameon turned to the trial at hand. His first shot had taken the renegade leader down. He assumed Charlie’s bullet had winged the guy behind him, but now he realized it might have been Jesse’s. In a matter of seconds two of Dameon’s men had surrounded the trio and Sergeant Munk Stephens, his three-hundred-pound former Texas Longhorn linebacker, had the lone remaining gunman in a chokehold.
In the ensuing panic, Dameon rose to his full height and took on the leadership role that had served him well in hellholes across the globe. His Army Ranger skills came in handy as he sought to bring order to the terrified crowd that was scattering frantically across the ballroom. His voice was clear, confident.
“Everyone, be calm! Now! Listen to me. The gunmen are down. There are no additional shooters. You are safe. BUT! Hear me loud and clear. No one is to leave this room. My men need to check the perimeter to ensure that these three individuals are the only gunmen here. I’m Police Chief Macarios if any of you don’t know me. I repeat, no one is to leave this room. That’s an order.”
Jesse pinned Raoul to the ground until she heard Macarios’s order. She had to trust his instincts. If he said the shooters were down they sure as hell better be. She knew she’d gotten one of them. Her heart was banging in her chest. That was too damned close. If she hadn’t leapt when she did, they would have gotten Raoul. Ignoring the blinding pain in her hip, she dragged Raoul to his feet. She’d figure out later if she’d been hit. The most it could be was a graze.
Taking advantage of the pandemonium, she rushed Raoul to the side door. Her instincts told her that if there were more shooters, they’d enter from the back. Relieved to see Raoul’s limo in the side lot where they’d agreed he would park, she shoved him toward the open door and into the arms of Ricardo, his startled driver. Ricardo’s eyes were wide with shock.
Jesse did her best to reassure him.
“We’re fine, okay. Just get hi
m out of here. Now!”
She turned to Raoul who had hold of her arm.
“Get in and leave, now.”
Raoul tugged at her hand.
“For Christ’s sake, Jesse, come with me!”
She shook her head. “No, I’ll take my car. I have to get it out of here. Believe me, Raoul, if I don’t, I won’t get it back for days. Now go!”
To her relief with a squeal of tires tearing at the cobblestone driveway, Ricardo had the limo out on the street before Jesse had crossed the lot to her waiting Jeep.
She hastened her steps when she heard the threatening shout behind her. It was the guy she’d seen pull his gun almost as fast as she and the Chief had. She had the door open and her key in the ignition when he hollered out a warning.
“Stop! Now! Dammit, Miss, you can’t go. The Chief said no one can leave! Everyone is to stay inside!”
Ignoring the gun he was pointing at her, Jesse smiled at him as she swung by and headed for the street.
“Sorry, Officer. I’m not ‘everyone.’ ”
* * *
Rocky’s shocked voice rang in his com.
“Wolf, you’re not fucking going to believe this. The redhead? She just shoved Raoul into his big limo and then headed for her car. I told her you said no one could leave, everyone had to stay. She just shrugged and said I’m not ‘everyone.’ Christ! She’s driving out of here now. I can’t fucking believe it!”
Dameon’s voice was harsh. “Stop her.”
“How, for Christ’s sake? I’m tellin’ you, man, no one is stopping that babe.”
“Goddamn it, Charlie. I saw her pull a gun. Fuck, she may even have got one of the shooters.”
