Danger and Desire: Ten Full-Length Steamy Romantic Suspense Novels

by Pamela Clare

  “Mom? You okay?” Blake sat up and the other boys piped in as well. It worked that they didn’t know she was faking. They made it all the more real.

  The guard unlocked her cuffs, but slipped the key into a different pocket in his cargo vest as he helped her up. Had Terry seen where he’d stashed it? She stayed doubled over and the door closed behind them, leaving Jay to go out of his mind with worry.

  “What’s she doing?” Eric asked softly.

  His oldest son knew something was up. Jay and Terry both thought of their sons as “the boys,” but that was no longer the case. They were men, and Eric especially had learned his mother’s strengths over the years. Nothing she couldn’t handle. Nothing she was afraid to tackle.

  Jay shook his head, unwilling to say anything out loud for fear of jinxing it. “Just cross your fingers,” he told his sons.

  Long, long minutes later, the door opened and the guard basically threw Terry across the room before shackling her back to the pipe next to Jay.

  “I told you I didn’t do it on purpose,” she said to the man. “I just tripped. I’m only human.”

  The thug grunted then stalked out of the room and Jay breathed a sigh of relief that Terry was back in one piece. By virtue of her entrance, she must not have been successful. Why else would the guy have tossed her so roughly if he hadn’t caught her doing something?

  “You okay,” he felt compelled to ask. Clearly she was fine. The door snapped shut after the thug.

  “Oh, yeah.” She sounded chipper. As if nothing had happened. As if maybe…

  Jay slowly looked her way, heard the rattling of her cuffs against the pipe. No way. She couldn’t have…

  Her smile bewitched him, just as it had when he was fifteen and dying to get in her pants. When she lifted both hands from behind her back, one holding a small key, and raised her brows innocently, he wanted to shout. To laugh. He wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go.

  “I’ll be damned,” Eric muttered from across the room. “How’d you…?” The answer might have dawned on him because a grin curved his lips, but he never got a chance to verify it.

  “I have many talents,” Terry whispered as she quickly released Jay’s wrists. Damn, it felt good to have his arms in front of him. Terry quickly released all the boys, moving efficiently and without a sound.

  “Hey, Mom, ever thought of becoming a secret agent for the government?” Blake asked quietly.

  “Who says I’m not?” she joked with a wink.

  Once she had them all released they gathered in the middle of the room. “I’ll call this guy back,” she said softly. Everybody get in your spots. When he comes to me, one of you needs to bonk him on the head. Hard.”

  “I’ll do it,” Blake said. “I’m the farthest in the corner. He won’t see me when he comes in, he’ll be watching you. I just need something to smack him with.”

  They all looked around and Jay spotted a rickety old wood chair in the corner. Without much trouble, he loosened one of the legs and snapped it from under the seat. “This ought to do it.” He handed the piece off to Blake. “Let’s just give it a few minutes. He’s not going to let you take another break so soon. He didn’t seem too happy with you when you came back in.”

  “He wasn’t.” Her cocky smile spoke volumes. Her confidence attracted him now as much as it had on the first day they’d met.

  After so many years together, he read between the lines. “Oh, and why’s that?”

  “I had to distract him,” she said, all innocence. “I grabbed his family jewels while I picked his pocket. He was too busy protecting his privates to notice I had my hand in the candy jar.”

  “Jeez, Mom,” Blake said, suppressing a grin. “You’re not supposed to cop a feel on a stranger when you’re husband’s in the other room.”

  “If copping a feel is going to get us out of here, then I’ll do it with a smile on my face. Now get back to your spots in case someone comes in,” she whispered.

  The longest five minutes in the history of mankind passed before Terry let out a yell for help. Jay didn’t want to wait longer than that in case the guy realized he didn’t have the key. The big guy opened the door, his gun in hand. “What now,” he grunted.

  “My stomach again,” Terry groaned. “I think you poisoned me with the food this morning.” She doubled over and moaned in agony, making sure to clank the cuffs against the pipe behind her. It didn’t seem possible, but Jay fell in love with her even more.

  “No one else is complaining,” the guy said, but he moved toward her, taking measured steps as if he hadn’t decided yet if he meant to help her.

  “Please, they’re animals. They all have cast iron stomachs.” She bent over again. “Oh, God, please, I need the bathroom. Please.” She moaned louder as Blake crept up behind him. Three feet, two feet… He readied the chair leg over his shoulder and let loose as the guy reached into his pocket.

  Wham! A homerun if Jay had ever seen one. Their newest guard hit the ground hard. One down and who knew how many to go. But this was a start.

  Terry grinned at him, then at her son. “I knew all that batting practice would pay off.” She rose to her feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Paul Facinetti checked his watch. Why should he be so antsy when Jess St. John still had three days to come up with his money, or Juneau? But something didn’t feel right and Paul always followed his hunches. They’d gotten him this far. Too bad he’d avoided his hunch about Maurice Juneau. Could’ve saved a lot of time, trouble and a truckload of money.

  He picked up the cell phone and called Frank. “What’s going on?”

  “With what?” Frank answered in his heavy Bronx accent. They hadn’t lived in New York in twenty years, but Frank hadn’t lost a bit of the flavor.

  “With our guests. Who’s watching them?”

  “Dennis.”

  They’d hired a couple of new guys on this trip, and Terry St. John had taken out one of them with her purse in her kitchen. His man had taken a shot near his temple and had just gotten out of the hospital. He was still seeing double. Dennis was the other newbie. So far he’d been pulling his weight, but Paul reserved his opinion until the job was finished.

  “Where’d you find this guy?” Paul asked, looking for Dennis’s resume.

  “He’s Buster’s cousin.”

  Buster? Who the hell named that guy? “Has he done this kind of work before? He’s someone you trust?” Paul asked.

  “You bet. Why not?”

  Frank lived in a fantasy world. He had very few of his own problems. He mainly dealt with Paul’s. Because he took orders so flawlessly, he considered himself invincible. He lived a comfortable life, liked his job and his freedom. But things had gone his way for so long that Paul worried about his complacency. The man didn’t want for anything. But he’d expected Frank to snap into the real world at some point. He’d been waiting a long time.

  “Meet me downstairs. I want to check in with the family.” Paul slid into his black suit coat and buttoned it as he walked out of his office. Appearances were important. He checked for the slim black mask in his pocket, hating that he had to wear it. But if the mask meant he might not have to kill six people, then he could live with it. Because if the St. Johns identified him, their lives ended.

  He met Frank on the first level and together they took the stairs to the basement room. In the hallway, Paul looked around, the hair on the back of his neck standing up straight.

  “Where’s your man, Frank?” Paul had given Frank carte blanche to hire the muscle and he’d done a great job for years. He might have finally fucked up.

  “Maybe he’s in the room,” Frank said. No sign of worry, but Paul new better. He felt it in his bones.

  “Open the door,” he ordered. He stood back and waited as Frank unlocked the heavy door. Frank’s “Oh, shit,” sealed what Paul already knew in his gut. He surveyed the room.

  Empty.

  Except for Dennis, bound and gagged,
unconscious in the corner.

  Paul went into fix-it mode. “Get everyone we have.” That was only four guys, but everyone had a gun so the odds were in their favor. “Have one of them check inside and put three in the front yard. You and I will take the back. Tell them to case the perimeter and spread out. I want every St. John back in this room within the next five minutes, got it?” Paul didn’t wait for an answer. He took the stairs two at a time to retrieve his gun from his desk. He wasn’t one of those bosses who let his guys do all the work. He couldn’t sit around especially now when he wanted that family back where he needed them. As his leverage.

  Moving back downstairs, Paul’s mind raced. Where would he go if he were Jay St. John? None of the St. Johns knew where they were so they’d probably take the nearest exit outside and attempt to escape that way. From the basement, they had to climb a short flight of steps to the laundry room and that would lead them to the door of the back yard, where they’d find a terraced yard, a spectacular view of the Santa Monica Pier, the Pacific Ocean and a steep drop down a rocky cliff.

  Frank caught up to him as he slipped out the back door. “I got guys in the front. We’ll get ’em,” he muttered, gun in hand.

  Paul stood on the steps, scanned the yard. His sister had built a Jacuzzi tub encased in a large gazebo. Tall palms kept the lawn shaded, and large hedges cut out intimate spots where furniture sat in secluded clusters.

  Each side of the yard had a gate, so Paul had a fifty-fifty shot at guessing the right one. He was about to send Frank to the right when he heard something to his left. Motioning Frank to follow him, he moved toward the south entrance. Crept along the wall, with Frank at his six. Relief rushed in his veins when he heard more noise. There was no easy way for six people to move quietly.

  Peeking around the corner, Paul nearly ran right into Terry St. John’s back. He took her arm at the same time he held the gun to her head.

  She froze like a good girl should. “Jay.” She hadn’t whispered and her husband turned around, no doubt to chastise her for the error, but he paled instead. Two of the boys were just dropping to the other side of the wall, but Paul counted on his guys up front to snag them.

  The look on St. John’s face was priceless as he checked if any of his sons had made it out. Then his gaze landed back on his wife. Paul appreciated the man’s despair. No doubt about it, life was a real bitch sometimes.

  “This was not a very good idea,” Paul told him calmly. He looked behind St. John to the two boys remaining. “Come back this way. This is something you need to hear.” When they hesitated, Paul stuck the gun harder against Terry’s head and the boys jumped to join them. He heard more commotion in the front and knew the other two had just been caught.

  Relief rushed through him in a gratifying wave.

  He kept his tone neutral. “I can totally understand the urge to leave,” he said reasonably. “Sometimes in life, things spin…” He paused until the right words came. “Things spin out of our control. I’m afraid this is one of those times for you. You do what I say when I say it.” Paul tugged Terry closer just to watch the anger surface in her husband’s eyes. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him, using the best leverage in the world. “I’ll bet you’d hate it if something happened to your pretty wife, wouldn’t you, St. John?” Paul spread his palm against her stomach, his thumb resting just below the center of her breasts, where he rubbed it against her silky shirt. “See, now I can respect the vows of marriage,” Paul went on. “But my friend here…” He gestured to Frank who stood next to him, his gun pointed in the general direction of all the St. John men. “My friend doesn’t really care about that. When he sees a woman he likes, he tends to just go for it.” Frank had an evil-ass grin on his face, confirming the words.

  “So because of this little stunt…” Paul eased Terry toward Frank. “I’m going to give Frank a little present.” Frank took Terry roughly and brought her up against him, her back to his front. He’d want St. John to see the panic on his wife’s face. Frank gloated with a lecherous leer and lust in his eyes.

  Paul had always overlooked Frank’s deviant behavior. Owning a casino meant a lot of women came in and out of their lives on a regular basis and many were as depraved as Frank so it seemed an easy problem to ignore.

  He truly felt sorry for Terry St. John. But at least she still had her life. And it wasn’t like she was a virgin. Frank would use her hard, but that didn’t make her dead. Not yet anyway.

  Dead came later. For two reasons. One, the St. Johns had a general idea where they were and two… Paul hadn’t put on his mask. No way he’d let them live now.

  Too bad.

  Frank picked that moment to turn Terry and lay a kiss on her. Terry shocked them both when she grabbed onto Frank’s shirt almost as if she wanted him, or needed him…for support? She canted her head like a woman might if she wanted a kiss. Oh, shit. Paul took a breath to warn Frank, who was too dazed to realize her motive. Too late. Her knee shot up hard into his groin. A tortured groan and rush of air exploded from Frank’s mouth as he doubled over.

  “Shit,” Paul muttered, yanking Terry away from Frank and motioning for the St. John men to move in front of him. “Hang tight, Frankie. Be right back.”

  Five minutes later, all the St. Johns were back in the basement and Frank had a bag of frozen peas on his aching sac.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tanner rubbed his eyes and listened as the grandfather clock ticked away the afternoon. Every few minutes Jess pulled back the sheer drapes and looked up and down the street. They’d spent the last four hours hunting through Juneau’s documents trying with no luck to find his master list of passwords. Tanner hadn’t wanted to be the voice of doom, but the odds seemed pretty slim of finding what they needed. Juneau could’ve hidden them anywhere. Long minutes had passed as they searched the hard drive for files with keywords like account, password, username, and then opened and scoured every document that came up and waited for her brother’s friend. They hadn’t said too much to each other in that time.

  They had showered, solo, before sitting at the computer. What a shame to waste water like that, but Tanner had patience. If nothing else, prison had taught him that. He’d have Jess again and when the time came, he’d go slower. He’d be able to. Probably. Most likely. At least he hoped. With his initial sexual urge slaked, he could watch her now with a critical eye. His thoughts weren’t sexual. Well, not as sexual.

  He hadn’t seen a soft side to her. She’d been scared, angry, frustrated, nervous, pissed and a few other adjectives that didn’t pop into his mind at the moment, but she hadn’t been soft. What would sex be like if she really wanted him? Yeah, sure, she’d been on board with everything he’d done, but it had been raw. Sex at its most basic level. They’d both just wanted relief. A distraction. Something to keep the nightmares from becoming real. But the nightmare was still lying in her garage with a hole in his head. It seemed Jess had pushed their encounter out of her mind. She had barely looked at him since she’d yanked her clothes on in the kitchen.

  What a sight that had been. Damn, she had a nice body. Petite and firm. The right curves in all the right places. Not to mention those sexy sounds she’d made.

  Tanner shifted in his seat, pissed at his train of thought. So much for being sexually slaked. Apparently all he had to do was think about her to get hard. Maybe that was natural after getting something he hadn’t had in more than seven years.

  Okay, so he needed to concentrate on the problem instead of her great ass and the gentle bounce of her breasts as she paced in front of him. He averted his gaze.

  This house was amazing, huge, but not in an uncomfortable or pretentious way. Big furniture decorated every room, hardwood floors mixed with luxurious carpet. Tanner focused on the framed pictures sitting on the mantel of the giant mahogany fireplace. He’d seen some pictures in her brother’s room, but hadn’t taken the opportunity to really look around.

  Jess watched him as
he moved closer to the pictures. She took a few steps back as if she needed the distance from him, but then resumed her pacing.

  Tanner scanned the photos. These were better. He got to see their faces. Their eyes. The ones upstairs were all action shots taken when the family had on caps or sunglasses, but these were posed family portraits.

  All her brothers had dark hair with streaks of red. Same as Jess. They got their blue eyes from their mother, whereas Jess got her whiskey colored eyes from…

  Tanner quit breathing. His heart raced. He recognized her father. It had been seven years since he’d seen the man. He’d only heard the name of Alex’s lawyer a couple of times, but now Tanner connected the dots. St. John. It took a full minute to find his voice. “This is your dad? Your last name is St. John?”

  Jess nodded absently.

  “He’s a lawyer?”

  This time she turned toward him. “Yes. How did you know?”

  Swallowing back the shock, Tanner scanned the rest of the photos. Jess’s parents on their wedding day, pictures of the family celebrating Christmas and graduations. In all the shots, her father’s face remained the same, and Tanner had seen his face almost every day in court for two months.

  “How’d you know he was a lawyer?” Jess demanded again.

  “He represented Alex in our trial,” Tanner said, turning to watch her face.

  “What?” she whispered. A hint of denial laced her tone.

  She didn’t know? “Your dad got Alex off with probation while I did seven years.” Tanner advanced on Jess. He had no reason to hold anything against her, but resentment sparked in him regardless. “Alex said I put him up to the robbery and that was their defense.”

  “Was he your lawyer t-too?” Her wide eyes filled with despair.