He went over to the window and pulled down a slat on the blinds, peering out into the street below. It was just after six in the morning and the traffic was light. There wouldn’t be anyone in the office for another couple of hours, but he planned to be long gone by then.
He sent his secretary an email letting her know he’d be out of the office for a few days on a case and to turn over any pressing matters to his second-in-command. Then he went to his safe and pulled out a stack of extra cash, two Glock .9mm’s and a snub-nosed revolver to go in his ankle holster. He had plenty of ammunition. He put all of it into a black bag and went to a locked cabinet behind his desk. No matter how many handguns he owned, his true love was still a rifle.
He unlocked the cabinet and had just pulled out the M40 when he heard movement behind him. Rachel was silhouetted in the door, a halo of light shining behind her, with his sweatpants rolled up at the bottom and the sweatshirt hanging down to her knees.
His eyes roamed over her lazily, taking in her flushed cheeks and damp hair, and his body did a slow melt down. He put the M40 down carefully on his desk and started towards her.
“I thought you wanted to hear about who’s trying to kill me,” Rachel said.
Shane stopped a few paces in front of her. “I do,” he said.
“If you keep looking at me like that you might never get to hear it. I need to leave the area as soon as possible.”
Shane sighed and tried to reel his body back in. She was right, but boy was it tempting to scoop her up and head to Mexico so they could make love in a cabana by the ocean for the next fifty years. He was about to suggest just that when she started to talk.
“My name is Rachel Valentine,” she said quietly, her eyes willing him to understand.
Shane knew the name was familiar, but he couldn’t remember why.
“My father was Dominic Valentine.”
His eyes grew big at that bit of information and he muttered a short expletive.
“I see you’ve heard of him,” she said with a forced laugh.
If she knew how well he’d known the Valentine brothers she would have run screaming for the door. Shane had spent so much time trying to ignore her since she moved in that he hadn’t studied her features as carefully as he otherwise might have. But he recognized Rachel for who she was now. She’d only been about twenty the last time he’d seen her—her hair had been lighter, streaked with blonde as if she’d just spent a few weeks on a tropical island somewhere. He’d been a rookie at the FBI then, and his first assignment had been the infamous mob family. It would probably be best if Rachel never knew how close Shane had come to killing her father.
He watched as she closed her eyes and tried to gather her composure. The woman was in big, big trouble. Dominic Valentine had been the head of the largest crime family still operating in the United States. They were based in Chicago, and Shane remembered reading that “Dom” as he was called by everyone, had gone missing just before he was supposed to testify in federal court.
“Why don’t we sit down,” Shane said, taking Rachel by the elbow and leading her over to a small loveseat. “Take your time. Do you need some water?”
She hiccupped out a small laugh and shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I’m tougher than I look.”
He imagined she’d have to be to grow up in the Valentine family.
“I’m going to give you the short version, because I really need to get out of here. I feel like I’ve got a target on my forehead, and the itch at the back of my neck has been getting worse since we left the house.”
“Just give me enough to know what I’m dealing with,” Shane said.
“My father was ready to get out of the business. He hadn’t been the same since my mother was killed several years ago, and things got worse after my younger sister was killed last year.”
Shane remembered reading those bits of information in the newspaper and thinking that crime, most definitely, did not pay. Both of the Valentine women had been taken out with very sophisticated car bombs.
“I’m sorry,” he told her softly.
“He made the decision because of me. Because I was all he had left,” she said. “I know in my brain that my father was a criminal. He did bad things. Things that I will never be able to justify. But he was a good father, and for that he deserves my love and devotion as a daughter.”
“Nobody could fault you for loving your father,” Shane said.
“No, but I’m what you might think of as collateral damage. When I say my father wanted out of the business to keep me safe, I mean that he wanted all the way out. And if he had to do time in federal prison because of his crimes he said it was worth it to keep me alive.
“He met with an agent named Donald Culver and agreed to confess to all of his financial transgressions and compile a list of all active mafia and their crimes if he and I could both be put in Witness Protection. You should have seen his face when he told me he was finished. He was so relieved. I didn’t realize how old he’d gotten until that moment.”
Shane let out a low whistle between his teeth. “That would be one hell of a list for someone who’s been around as long as Dom.”
“Yes, but after dad met with Agent Culver at the Federal Building in Chicago and turned over the list, he went missing.”
“When was the last time you spoke with him?”
“We spoke on the phone just after noon on the day he disappeared. He was scheduled to appear at the courthouse for a deposition and to meet with the district attorney. He knew they were going to arrest him, but he didn’t seem to care.”
“What happened to the list after your father disappeared?”
“Agent Culver was found with his throat slashed floating in Lake Michigan. The list hasn’t been seen since, and no other agents will even admit to having seen it.”
“They’d be signing their death warrants.” Shane thought about everything Rachel had told him so far, processing bits of information, storing and discarding as needed. “So why are they after you, Rachel?” Shane finally asked, coming around to the one thing that didn’t make sense.
“Because my father made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“My father was blind when it came to his brother. He believed all families should be loyal to each other, no matter the circumstance, but Uncle Angelo was never loyal to anyone but himself. Dad asked Angelo to protect me if anything should happen to him, and Angelo played him until he got the information he wanted.
“What information?”
“Dad told Uncle Angelo that he’d sent me a copy of the list for safe-keeping.”
Shane shook his head in disbelief. “You have the copy of the list?” he asked incredulously. The fact that Rachel was still alive was a testament to her own abilities.
Stark pain came into Rachel’s eyes. “Yes. It’s in a safety-deposit box in Chicago. This is the reason I know Angelo killed my father. Because if dad were still alive I would have heard from him by now. Angelo wants the list, and he’ll do everything he can to get it in his hands. I’m running out of places to hide where his men can’t find me.”
Shane thought of the tangles this particular situation would bring them. The worst-case scenario was that Angelo would torture them both before disposing of their bodies. The Valentine organization ran far and wide, and there would be few people along the way who could be trusted to keep them safe.
“So what do you say, Mr. Private Investigator? Am I too dangerous for you?”
Chapter Three
“I guess it’s lucky for you I like dangerous women,” Shane said after a minute of stunned silence. “We need to get out of here. You can tell me the rest on the way. You must be one hell of an amazing woman to have dodged them for this long.”
“You don’t grow up in the Valentine household without learning a few helpful tips, but I’ve felt Angelo’s men breathing down my neck over the last couple of months.”
Shane zipped up the black bag with the weapons, m
oney and a few other necessities and slung it over his shoulder. He turned off the lights so only the glow from the computer screen was visible. He grabbed Rachel by the hand and pulled her toward him. She barely came up to his shoulder in her socked feet.
“I have to say I’m not terribly sorry for meeting you under circumstances such as these.”
Her eyes were luminescent in the shadowed room, and he put his hand on the back of her neck and brought her closer. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips hovered a breath away from hers. He recognized the low pull in his gut as her body fit against him. He was prepared to explore—her taste and texture—prepared to savor the soft sighs that would follow. But as he brushed his lips gently against hers, he realized he’d made a mistake. He wasn’t prepared at all. Her mouth was a banquet, her lips sweet and her sighs intoxicating. He could lose himself in her taste alone.
He pulled away, knowing that if he kissed her again there would be no turning back. The part of himself he’d kept rigidly locked away would take over all rational thought, and it could only end in pain for them both because he would never be capable of giving what a woman like Rachel Valentine deserved.
But Rachel surprised him when she wouldn’t let him back away. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him closer.
“Mmm, again,” she moaned.
He knew it was a bad idea, but his brain was being overruled by more basic needs. He captured her mouth in a scorching kiss that held two years of pent up desire and longing. It was a kiss meant to stir passions, a kiss meant to threaten his control. It was carnal in its intensity as lips and tongues clashed.
He swallowed her moan and pulled her closer, so the heat of their bodies met and melded. He hadn’t realized he’d been starved for the taste of a woman. But not just any woman. Only this one. Her hands fisted in his hair and he moved her backward, never lifting his lips from hers, until her legs hit the back of the small loveseat and they went down together in a heap of tangled limbs. His hand found its way beneath her shirt and his fingers grazed over a rigid nipple. She arched against him and he buried his face against her neck and fought for control.
What was wrong with him? He wondered. He had to get a grip, and fast.
No sooner had the thought entered his mind than the windows facing the street exploded and a boom echoed where only seconds before the room had been filled with sounds of passion. Terror and adrenaline replaced the feeling in an instant, and Shane rolled off the couch and tucked Rachel beneath him. The rapid-fire sounds of bullets hitting the building continued as they belly crawled to the stairwell.
“Sounds like he’s got an HK MP5,” Shane said, his voice calm and low.
“What’s that?”
“Submachine gun. He’ll have to stop and reload in a minute. When he does we need to get to the back door. There’s an alleyway behind us.”
“Gotcha,” she said.
He admired the fact she hadn’t lost control at the first sound of gunfire. They hunkered down again as the shots continued. The bottom windows were being taken care of now.
“I never realized I had so many windows,” Shane said. “My secretary is going to be pissed.”
“Do you think he followed us when we left the apartments?” Rachel asked. “I looked around, but I didn’t see anyone who looked suspicious.”
“Yeah, I did too, but there was plenty of cover to be found in the park across the street.”
The gunfire stopped as suddenly as it had started and the silence left in its wake pulsed along with the pounding beats of their hearts.
“Let’s go,” Shane said. He grabbed the black bag and shoved Rachel in front of him, shielding her body with his own, as he pushed her down the stairs and led her through a long corridor of offices to an oversized steel door. The door opened soundlessly on well-oiled hinges, and cold rain beat against their skin as they ran into a dark alleyway.
“What are we going to do?” Rachel asked.
“We’ve got to find an alternate mode of transportation. There’s no way we can make it to the Tahoe without him seeing us.” Shane looked around the alley and noticed an older model Toyota. The paint had peeled in several places, the fender was rusted and the tires were bald. He didn’t think the car would get them down the street, much less to Chicago.
“What about that?” Rachel asked, pointing to a black and chrome Harley parked a ways down the alley behind the corner bakery.
“My kind of woman,” Shane said with a quick smile as he grabbed her hand and ran the rest of the way down the alley. He could only pray that the guy shooting out front wasn’t smart enough to think about checking the back entrances, but chances were if this guy worked for the Valentine family then he was plenty smart.
Rachel straddled the bike behind him and her arms wrapped loosely around his waist. Seconds ticked away in his head as he touched wires together and heard the sweet purr of the engine as it started and echoed through the quiet. They wouldn’t be able to keep the bike for long before it was reported stolen. It belonged to the tattooed bakery owner, and he’d notice it was missing as soon as he brought the first load of morning trash to the dumpsters.
“Do you know how to fire a gun?” Shane asked, giving Rachel a quick look over his shoulder as he held out the Glock.
“Point and shoot, right?” she answered with a smile that Shane couldn’t interpret the meaning of.
“Just do the best you can.” He revved the engine and shot out of the alley at a high rate of speed, studying every spot on the street he would have used to hide if he was the one doing the shooting. He caught the reflection of steel as the street light glanced off a weapon pointed in their direction.
“Nine o’clock,” he yelled to Rachel as shots rang out and pinged into a car barely a foot from his front tire. The streets were slick with rain, but his mind and hands stayed in control as he guided the bike across the pavement. He didn’t even flinch as Rachel fired three rounds in close succession. All three hit the corner of the building their attacker was shooting from. It was a hell of a shot, no matter how you looked at it, and it reminded him he knew absolutely nothing about Rachel Valentine other than the fact she sent his body into overdrive and came from a dangerous family who’d obviously taught her how to shoot to kill.
Rachel held on for dear life as Shane tore out of New Orleans like a bat out of hell. The feel of freedom washed over her with every mile that separated her from her hunter and giddiness and adrenaline was its own euphoria.
It was just past sunrise when they stopped in a small town outside of the city. Houses were few and far between and trees were thick and covered with vines. The fishermen and trappers who worked the bayous were long since gone and others were still fast asleep.
“What are we doing here?” Rachel asked. “Do you think we should stop so soon?”
“We’ve got to change vehicles. I guarantee the bike has already been reported stolen. It’s only a matter of time before we’re spotted.”
Shane gave her a funny look and she wondered if she had bugs in her teeth from the motorcycle ride.
“Where the hell’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“At my daddy’s knee, of course,” she answered with an attempt at the thick Cajun accent she’d heard so many people speak with since she’d been in Louisiana. “I shot for sport in college. Team captain.”
“If you ever want a job, lady, give me a call. You’re almost as good as I am.”
“I’d be glad to accept a challenge. Anytime. Anywhere.” Rachel couldn’t believe how brazen she was being with someone she barely knew. She’d never been much of a flirt, and she’d never been promiscuous, but there was something about Shane Quincy that made her want to throw up her hands and say, “To hell with it.” Despite her father’s notoriety, she’d lived a pretty sheltered life. Boyfriends had been few and screened carefully. Her roommate from college had been hand picked, and every tenant in her apartment building had had a thorough background check.
“Be careful. I never back away from a challenge,” he said softly.
The intensity and heat in his stare was enough to bring a blush to her cheeks, and she looked everywhere but at him with a newfound purpose. “It doesn’t look like we have a lot to choose from.”
“We don’t need anything fancy. Just something that will get us part of the way to Chicago.”
Rachel watched as Shane looked in the windows of a beat up pickup truck. It was parked at the mouth of a bayou next to an old wooden dock. “We don’t need to go to Chicago. We need to go to Dallas.”
“Wait. Rewind,” Shane said as he looked up from his task of hotwiring the truck. “Why do we need to go to Dallas? I thought the list was in a safety deposit box in Chicago.”
The truck started with a sputtering cough and Shane threw in his duffle bag and practically tossed her into the cab.
“Why are we taking this? It won’t do us any good if we break down on the side of the highway.”
“Listen to the purr of that engine, Sugar. People down here drive older cars but they keep them in top shape. It wouldn’t do them any good to try and evacuate for a hurricane and not be able to get their cars started. And we’re taking this particular truck because the owner is obviously busy checking his traps for the day. Trappers don’t usually come in until the afternoon, so it should give us plenty of time to get a head start.”
“Oh,” Rachel said.
“Now tell me why we’re going to Dallas when the copy of the list is in Chicago.”
Rachel bristled a little at the demand, but kept her mouth shut. She’d never been one for taking orders. “I work at a large interior design firm in Chicago. Worked,” she clarified. It had broken her heart to give up the job she’d fought so hard for. Sacrificed for. “Dad called me on my cell at the office that last day. I was busy with client meetings, so I didn’t give him as much time as I should have. As I wish now I had. He was excited and told me everything was going to work out just fine, and that Uncle Angelo would take care of me if anything went wrong. Dad was scheduled to meet with Agent Culver like I told you, and then give his deposition. I wished him luck, told him I loved him and hung up. I didn’t give it another thought until I was told he was missing.”
Dirty Little Secrets (Romantic Mystery) Book 1 in the J.J. Graves Series Page 23
