Thieves Like Us

by Starr Ambrose

  Rocky chuckled.

  Janet hummed a noncommittal sound. “One of these days some boy won’t be scared off so easily. Or she’ll leave Freddie at home. Then what?”

  “Then she’d better be ready to shoot her father with a tranquilizer gun.”

  Janet suspected he was right. “Are you going to be like that if we have a daughter?”

  “Damn right. Especially if she’s half as pretty as her mom.” He nuzzled her ear, sending delightful shivers across her shoulders. “Is it too early to ditch this party?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Then dance with me again. I need to have you in my arms.”

  “Well, when you put it like that . . .” She was such a sucker for this guy. He had her wrapped around his finger every bit as much as little Ben did his parents.

  She let him lead her across the lawn and onto the dance floor. Leaning against her husband’s firm shoulder, she closed her eyes and swayed to the live orchestra music, thinking she could stay like that all night.

  It only lasted a minute before a large hand tapped Rocky’s shoulder. “Cut, please.”

  Rocky frowned but before he could protest, Vasili wrapped Janet’s hand in his own and inserted himself between her and Rocky. With a wink, she mouthed “’Bye” at Rocky and let the big Russian sweep her away.

  He was surprisingly nimble and held her with a light touch as though she might break if he squeezed too hard. She probably would. “You look fantastic in a tux, Vasili.”

  “I’m handsome, no? And you are perfect gorgeous bride.” She beamed, allowing fondness for the big Russian to mix with a healthy caution. “We make beautiful couple, better than you and Rocky. Too bad you have to settle for second best.”

  “My rotten luck.”

  “I get nice present for newlyweds, too.”

  “Thank you.” Without faltering, she added, “You included a gift receipt, right?”

  “Pfft. You think I give you stolen merchandise? Such sticklers for law, you two.” He shook his head over her hopeless moral standards. Looking around the yard and its hanging lanterns and strings of lights, Vasili nodded to himself, as though approving of the ostentatious wealth. His gaze lingered on the house. “Nice place.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Lots of money here.”

  “Lots of burglar alarms, too.”

  He gave her a sly smile. “You funny girl.”

  She smiled. “Dead serious.”

  “Maybe you and Rocky make good couple, after all. You too uptight for me.”

  “You think so? Rocky thinks he needs to protect me from myself and my reckless tendencies.”

  Vasili puffed up with feigned outrage. “What he know? He think I am dangerous person. Me! Can you believe this?”

  “Outrageous. Anyone can see you’re a pussycat.”

  He had to know she didn’t believe it, but he preened anyway, fond of the image. “See? You smarter than Rocky. Maybe I give you back to him before he spreads more nasty lies about me.”

  She looked across the dance floor to where Rocky watched them with folded arms and a steely gaze. He was still prickly about Vasili’s affection for her, and became more possessive of her after every encounter.

  “In a minute,” she told Vasili, her voice calm despite the excitement already building inside her. “Let him wait. My husband needs to remember that he’s married to a reckless, dangerous woman.”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “You use me for sexy, jealous purpose?”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  Vasili nodded his approval. “Excellent! Rocky get what he deserve.”

  Janet smiled. He certainly would.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek

  at the first book in a new trilogy by

  STARR

  AMBROSE

  featuring the feisty and beautiful Larkin sisters

  Coming Soon from Pocket Books

  Rafael DeLuca had his hand on Maggie’s ass. Again.

  If they’d been at Del Tanner’s bar in Barringer’s Pass, she would have planted a vicious elbow jab in his wonderfully ripped midsection and told him to get lost. But they weren’t in the valley. They were in the Aerie, the posh Colorado nightclub at the Alpine Sky resort on Two Bears Mountain. People came here to play and be seen, especially if they were rich or famous.

  Rafael DeLuca was both. Anything Maggie did to him would be seen by the hordes of his fellow vacationing Hollywood glitterati. Plus, management frowned on pissing off the guests, especially the famous ones. Since management included her sister Zoe, Maggie spared Rafael’s pretty rib cage and settled for grinding her three-inch heel into his toes as she turned to leave.

  The star jerked his hand away. “Ow! Shit, baby, watch where you step.”

  “I did.” She leaned close so the reporter lurking by the crowded bar wouldn’t hear. “Time to go play with someone else.”

  Rafael’s lip curled in a cynical smile. “After buying you drinks for the past hour? I don’t think so, baby.” He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

  Maggie stiffened, but reminded herself that she should have seen this coming. She should have blown him off five minutes after he hit on her, when he’d scanned the room, then sauntered over with his smoky-hot gaze and confident opening line: “I always like to meet the most beautiful woman in the room first.” He’d flashed his TV smile. “I’m Rafe. And you are. . . ?”

  Despite the lame line, Rafael and his reality show costars had been fun to joke around with for an hour. But she preferred men with more depth, and an hour of Rafe and the cast of Trust Fund Brats was enough for her, especially after the unwanted ass grab.

  Her toe-crunching move should have worked, but all those drinks he’d been buying had gone down his throat, not hers. His extremities were probably half numb by now. Unfortunately, it didn’t affect the strength of his grip as he held her against him.

  For Zoe’s sake, Maggie gathered some restraint and didn’t slug the drunken jerk. But she did put her fists on his chest, holding him at a slight distance. “Get your hands off me before I hurt you,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  To her surprise, he released her. Laughing, he growled like a tiger. “Rowr! Feisty Maggie.” He clawed the air playfully.

  She took a step back while she could. “Look, Rafe, it’s been fun, but I’m going to go mingle.”

  “Perfect. Mingling’s what I had in mind, too.” He snagged a lock of her long strawberry blonde hair, twirling it between his fingers. “I hear redheads are hot.”

  “That’s hot-tempered, genius.” She hated to prove the cliché, but he was pushing her limits. Maggie turned to the man next to her. He had biceps like twin picnic hams and had hovered around Rafael DeLuca all evening like he might be a bodyguard. “You want to help me out here?”

  The guy sipped his drink—not his first one—and gave her a dispassionate glance. “Nope.”

  Rafe smirked. “Baby,” he crooned, “be sensible. I’m about to change your life. See that reporter over there from The Hollywood Scene? If I give the signal, your picture will be all over the country by tomorrow, and that little store of yours will be flooded with more customers than you can handle. My name is magic.” He fingered the lock of hair, making sure his hand rubbed against her bare skin at the opening of her blouse.

  Her flesh crawled and she brushed his hand away. “My store’s doing just fine already. And if you don’t move right now, I’ll give your paparazzi friend an even better picture to splash across the tabloids.”

  He stroked her arm thoughtfully, and she checked to make sure he wasn’t leaving a trail of slime. “You really have to learn to recognize an opportunity when it’s handed to you. Especially when it comes in such a big package.” He winked. “I’d think one of the Larkin girls would know all about that.”

  Maggie froze. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

  A hard edge touched his smile. “Oh, yeah. People talk, babe. But don’t worry, I can spice u
p those rumors for you, make you more popular than ever.” His hand slid up her side and found her breast. “I know exactly what you want.”

  Rafe’s cool gaze cut into her like a knife, slicing right through the frayed bonds of her temper. She could almost hear them snap.

  Cal set his beer down with a thunk. Pretty Boy DeLuca had just put his hand on her again. Damn it, this was not going to end well.

  The redhead had captured Cal’s attention even before Rafe DeLuca had hit on her. She was the type who always drew looks, with a smile that sparkled and the kind of lilting laugh that made others smile when they hadn’t even heard the joke. She was certainly a distraction he didn’t need. But, fortunately, DeLuca zeroed in on her, making it easy for him to watch them both.

  Cal had to give the woman credit. Her engaging smile had grown stiff within minutes of talking to De-Luca. If that other woman from the Trust Fund Brats crew hadn’t claimed Red’s attention, she probably would have slipped away. But instead she got stuck next to DeLuca long enough for the man to feel possessive.

  Even from across the room, Cal could see the woman didn’t like it. She didn’t look like the type to bow to fame or fortune, either. DeLuca didn’t have much experience with that, so he wouldn’t see it, but Cal did, and in another thirty seconds the whole bar would, too, including the reporters that swarmed after DeLuca like flies around manure.

  The last thing Cal wanted to do was draw attention to himself, but he couldn’t stand by and watch another woman be victimized. Red had no idea what she was getting herself into.

  Abandoning his beer, Cal shoved through the throng of mostly women who loitered three deep around the bar. The damn reality stars attracted them like magnets.

  “Hey, watch it!” A drink sloshed and someone swore. Cal mumbled an apology but didn’t pause. A man grabbed his arm with an angry, “Hey, buddy!” but Cal shook it off, cursing under his breath because he wasn’t going to make it in time. Twenty feet away, Red’s eyes narrowed with icy determination. Maybe DeLuca was too smashed to recognize it, though a ten-year-old could have seen it coming.

  Cal watched it happen like a slow-motion accident. The woman raised her left hand to DeLuca’s shoulder. The gesture looked friendly, even to Cal, who knew better, and DeLuca actually smiled. He hadn’t even noticed her right hand drop, taking aim. DeLuca’s lips curved in smug confidence.

  She drove her palm upward, smashing into De-Luca’s nose with an audible crunch.

  His scream was instantaneous. Reeling backward, he covered his nose with both hands as blood seeped through his fingers.

  Shocked silence hung in the air for a second, then pandemonium erupted. People turned, reporters shoved, and a couple of women screamed. A dozen cameras flashed, held high and pointed toward the center of the action, while DeLuca yelled obscenities, blood dripping onto his sparkling white shirt.

  Red hadn’t moved. Cal noted the satisfaction in her eyes as he pushed through the onlookers and finally reached her side. He also noted the angrily contorted face of DeLuca’s bodyguard as the man threw his drink aside and lunged at the woman.

  Introductions would have to wait. Grabbing her arm, he spun her aside, putting himself in the guard’s path. The man plowed into him like a linebacker. Cal barely had time to turn his shoulder into the blow, and the impact staggered him. It luckily also knocked the wind out of the guard. Muscle Man doubled over, confused and breathing hard.

  Behind Cal, Red’s furious yell pierced the bedlam. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re— Oh, shit!” Her objection broke off and he knew she’d seen the even more furious behemoth glaring like a bull ready to charge.

  “Get out of here! Now,” Cal ordered without taking his eyes off the guard.

  She was smart enough to see the danger. Cal braced himself, ready to deflect DeLuca’s lackey long enough for her to get away. Instead, she pushed around Cal, shoving him aside as she planted her feet and stood ramrod straight, jabbing her finger at DeLuca’s bodyguard.

  “Don’t you dare touch me, you incompetent Neanderthal! If you had half a brain you’d take that mentally stunted, oversexed drunk you work for and lock him up in his room until he learns to act civilized!”

  Cal felt as stunned as the guard looked. Red was either oblivious or too enraged to notice. Taking a step forward, she balled her fists. “In case you haven’t heard, women aren’t submissive playthings, put on earth to stroke your feeble male egos!”

  Cal squinted as two cameras flashed in sync, flaring like a nova. Among the raised cell phones, several professional cameras clicked furiously, recording frame after frame of Red’s tirade and DeLuca’s bloody rant on the sidelines. They’d also probably captured clear photos of Cal. Shit! Grabbing Red’s hand he hissed, “Lady, are you nuts?”

  She shook him off, apparently just hitting her stride. She continued her lecture. “Do you even understand what sexual harassment is? Because it’s obviously your job to keep the little pervert in line, and his behavior was beyond inappropriate. No one gets to treat me like that and—”

  “Red!” Cal yelled loudly enough to cut through her fury.

  “What!?” She whirled on him. “Someone has to tell these superficial morons—”

  She couldn’t see the crazed look on the guard’s face, but Cal did. He also heard Muscles snarl, “Bitch,” as he reached into his coat pocket.

  Adrenaline shot through Cal. He’d hoped to get out of this without more violence, but that option just evaporated. Bloody noses and barroom tackles were one thing; guns were a whole new set of rules.

  “Move! Now!” Grabbing Red’s arm, he yanked hard. She staggered as he released her, but he couldn’t watch to see if she stayed on her feet. The bodyguard extended his arm to the side, the anticipated black metal visible in his hand.

  It was Cal’s only chance. In that one moment, while the guard stood with his body wide open and unprotected, Cal jumped forward, throwing a kick directly at the guard’s midsection.

  His foot hit flesh, hard. The guard went wide-eyed, grunted, and crumpled. In one continuous move, Cal spun, his gaze finding Red’s. “Go!” he ordered. And because he no longer trusted her to do the sensible thing, he grabbed her hand and charged forward. They dodged through the confusion into the resort’s elegant lobby and through the main doors, out into the cool Rocky Mountain night.

  Red clutched his hand and ran with him, finally agreeing with his agenda. She slowed and would have stopped under the front portico, but he tugged her to the right without skipping a beat. They followed the driveway until it split toward the parking lot. He hopped the low flowerbed border, landing on thick, well-manicured grass. She hesitated before making a cautious jump, and he realized she’d been running in high heels. Slowing to accommodate her strides, he rounded the corner of the hotel and drew her into the shadows against the brick wall.

  Voices faded. Panting, they listened to a few running footsteps and shouted questions as people dashed outside, looking for them. Paparazzi, if they were lucky; DeLuca’s hired guns, if they weren’t. When Cal was sure they were alone, he finally released her hand. She leaned against the wall, eyes closed, catching her breath.

  After several seconds, her breath evened and her eyes opened. She finger-combed her hair and shook it back behind her shoulders. He tried not to notice its silkiness. It was the kind of hair that tempted a man to run his hands up under it to cradle her head when he kissed her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She nodded, taking a deep breath and blowing it out. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” That was the end of the niceties. He gritted his teeth. “You want to tell me just what the fuck you were doing back there?” he snapped.

  Fire shot into her eyes as she moved away from the wall faster than he expected.

  “I was defending myself.” Her voice was low and controlled, but already seething with fury. “I thought that was obvious. Isn’t that why you jumped into the middle of things in the first place?�
�� She stuck her hands on her hips. “And who the hell are you, anyway?”

  “I’m the guy who saved your ass.”

  They faced off for a long moment until Cal muttered, “Oh, hell. Come on, let’s get out of here before they find us.” He took a few steps toward the parking lot before he realized she wasn’t following him. “What’s the problem now?”

  “What makes you think I would go anywhere with you?”

  He might have smiled at her attitude if he’d been in a better mood. Unfortunately for them both, he was feeling pretty tense and irritable. “How about because you sure as hell can’t go back in there without causing a bloodbath. And because I’m going to explain to you how you just ruined both our lives. Is that okay with you?”

  She stared him down. “No. Give me your phone.”

  “What?”

  “Mine’s in my purse, in my sister’s office. She’s the assistant manager here. I can guarantee she’ll want an explanation for that little scene, and you’re going to help me convince her I was provoked and doing nothing wrong in defending myself.”

  That might be hard to do, considering she’d thrown the first punch. But she was holding out her hand, fingers wiggling impatiently, and damned if he wasn’t curious to see how this played out. Besides, he couldn’t leave her alone until she understood just how much danger she was in.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and she snatched it away. Dialing rapidly, she tapped her foot while she waited. Finally, she straightened. “Hi, Zoe, it’s me.”

  She winced, and he bit back a smile. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who found her aggravating. “I’ll explain, just let me in the door by the kitchen. I don’t want anyone to see us.” When her eyes flicked up to his, Cal knew her sister had asked who was with her.