Alias

by Amy J. Fetzer

  He stared her down. “Woman, I swear, you’re stubborn enough to try a saint.”

  “So you keep telling me. I thought we’d settled this, Jack.”

  “We did. You’re letting your imagination get to you.”

  Maybe he was right, but there were too many people moving around her life who could topple the scales.

  She let out a breath. Jack moved close, moved in. She felt her insides shift and twist as he stared down at her.

  “You’re edgy. What’s going on, Piper?”

  I’m Darcy, she wanted to scream. I’m here, can’t you see me? But she couldn’t and she was so tired of it.

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “You don’t have to handle it alone, you know.”

  Yes, she did, and she wanted to share her burdens with him, but was certain he’d turn away from her. She realized Jack meant more to her than she’d thought possible.

  “I do for now.” She turned away and stepped outside onto the curb. He was there as she handed the valet her ticket.

  “Have dinner with me later,” he said suddenly.

  When she looked at him, he was close. He gripped her hip, pulling her near. The air sizzled, her body suddenly aware of only him. Each feature, the tense strength of his muscles and the heat in his blue eyes. Before she could say a word, he kissed her. Nothing chaste and quick, but a hot, seductive slide of lips and tongue—utterly possessive, completely primal. It made her heartbeat climb rapidly, and she wanted closer.

  “I accept your apology,” he whispered when he drew back.

  She made a frustrated sound, pushing him. “I didn’t offer one.” He didn’t let her go just yet.

  “Tasted like it to me.”

  Darcy smiled up at him, shaking her head.

  “That’s some outfit, too.”

  She wore a slim-fitting black sheath of lace over a flesh-colored lining.

  “I can tell you’re not armed, too.” When she frowned, questioning, he gave her a long slow look and said, “You aren’t hiding a thing in that dress.”

  Just then the valet pulled up. Jack stepped back to open her door. “I’m staying here.”

  She flicked her room key. “Paris.”

  His gaze lowered over her with unshielded want and he inhaled through clenched teeth. “Probably a good thing,” he muttered. “Dinner, seven. I’ll come for you.”

  “Okay.”

  She slid behind the wheel and smiled as she drove away. That kiss spoke volumes, and though he’d never made any overtures, his recent behavior was sending messages that were loud and clear. But she couldn’t take their relationship much further. She was lying to him. And that, Jack might never forgive.

  Darcy did what every red-blooded woman did in Vegas. She shopped. The fun of strolling through shops was dampened with trying to figure out how to convince Cleo to trust her. The woman had no reason to, and if Darcy were in her shoes, she wouldn’t, either.

  Her thoughts on a hot bath, she stepped off the elevator, then hunted in her purse for her room key. She’d taken a couple steps when she realized the hall was darker than when she’d left. She headed quickly toward her room, and just as she turned a corner someone slammed her face-first against the wall. A heartbeat later, a knifepoint dug into the side of her throat. Darcy didn’t have time to be afraid.

  “My money’s in my purse, take it.” She let it drop with the bags. He didn’t go for it. She struggled and the man shoved her legs apart, nearly unbalancing her. The weight of his big body crushed her to the wall.

  She smelled the minty scent of his breath as he said, “Keep your nose out of it, lady.”

  She didn’t recognize the voice.

  “You got that?”

  “Sure, yeah, no problem.”

  He shoved harder. “You ask too many questions, bitch. Drop it or I’ll drop you.” He ground his crotch to her behind and revulsion floated up from her stomach. She rammed her elbow back into the man. It did nothing. Absolutely nothing. His laugh was low and cold, and he pressed the knife till a trickle of blood slid down her throat.

  “Want to die now?”

  “Go to hell.” She drove her heel down on his foot as she threw her head back into his face. At the impact, she heard something crack.

  He groaned loudly, but didn’t let go. The hand in her hair slammed her forehead to the wall. Darcy saw stars and thought, I’m going to die over this.

  Then the thunder of footsteps vibrated the floor, and seconds later the man was off her. She twisted in time to see Jack knock the blade from the man’s hand and land a full-face, hammer-fisted punch right on the guy’s nose. The man staggered, blood spraying from his nose. Jack didn’t stop, driving his fist under the guy’s chin, nearly lifting the man off his feet. Her attacker crumpled to the carpet. Jack shrugged his jacket into place and looked at her.

  He was pissed. He moved toward her and instinct would have sent her backing up, but when he reached her, she let him take her into his arms.

  “Thank you, Jack.”

  “Why’d this guy go after you?”

  She pushed away from him, not meeting his gaze. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.” He tipped her chin up. “Jesus, you’re bleeding.”

  She touched her throat, looked at the blood on her fingers. Jack gave her his handkerchief, then flipped out a cell phone and dialed. “Hotel security.”

  “No, Jack. Don’t!”

  “What? Are you crazy? It’s on video.” He pointed to the cameras positioned in the corners.

  “I won’t talk to them.” She started toward her room.

  He grabbed her close, his eyes sympathetic. “You won’t have to. I will.”

  Darcy sagged, her heart pounding.

  Jack spoke into the phone, his tone demanding and angry, but when he shut it off, he was calmer.

  “Give me your room key.”

  “Why?” He flicked his fingers, not explaining. She handed it over.

  He went to the room and unlocked it. “Get your stuff, you’re coming with me.”

  “I am not.”

  “Yes, you are. Now. And don’t give me that crap about taking care of yourself. I know you can, but tonight, you couldn’t.”

  He waited at the door till she repacked her things.

  The security was there and he wouldn’t let them talk to her, giving them his cell number and telling them to take it up later. They hauled the attacker off, but not before Jack searched his pockets. No ID, no wallet. No gun. And he wasn’t talking. Just bleeding.

  Through the TV system, he checked her out of the hotel, then with his hand on the small of her back, he escorted Darcy out of the hotel and to his SUV. He didn’t say a word. It made her nervous.

  In the car she said, “Your teeth are going to be nothing but powder if you keep grinding them. Let it out.”

  “Let what out?”

  “Your anger. I’ve had it directed at me before.”

  “You think I’m mad at you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Christ.” He pulled into Caesar’s Palace, got out and tossed the keys to the valet, snatching the ticket. He shouldered her bag and nudged her along. They were alone in the elevator.

  “Jack.”

  “Not here.”

  She folded her arms, glaring at him. “He-man.”

  “Pain in my ass.” He directed her toward his room, unlocked the door and shut it behind them.

  Darcy moved to the window. “Say it, whatever it is, just say it. Yell at me, whatever.”

  “I was scared.”

  She looked at him.

  “To death. I didn’t think I’d reach you in time.”

  “What?”

  “I saw that guy follow you from this hotel to yours, dammit. I followed him. I missed him in the elevator and—” His gaze fell on the cut on her throat. “I thought he’d kill you.”

  “He didn’t.”

  He snatched a tissue, blotting her throat. It was sealing up already. When
he looked at her again, Darcy felt the air leave her lungs.

  It was overpowering, the emotion in his eyes.

  She turned away from it.

  “You might as well tell me what you’re into, because you’re in way over your head.”

  It was true, she was. But she couldn’t bring him into it, not without revealing everything she’d kept hidden for so long.

  “Jack, it’s my business.”

  “Is it? Darcy?”

  She inhaled and went still as glass. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Darcy Allen Steele.”

  Her legs wouldn’t hold her, her heartbeat was so fast she thought she’d pass out. She reached for the dresser, sinking to the floor, refusing to look at him, to confirm or deny. A flood of emotion and pain slipped through her like boiling water, scalding, burning.

  Oh God, oh God, he knew!

  “You investigated me?”

  “I was a cop. A Vegas cop. And yes, I did.”

  “How—how long have you known?” She couldn’t catch her breath.

  “After I found you rescuing that woman.”

  “For nearly two years, and you never said anything!”

  “I was waiting for you to trust me.”

  “It’s not that simple.” Still, she wouldn’t look at him.

  “It is now, Darcy.”

  She choked. Hearing her name was both painful and joyous, and the tears came, years of loneliness, of hiding and watching what she said or did chipping away like ice trapping her soul.

  He was there, pulling her off the floor and into his arms, holding her tight.

  Darcy cried, her fingers digging into his shoulders, arms wrapping his neck.

  “Oh, Jack.”

  “I know, I know. It’s okay, baby.” His voice wavered, big hands smoothing her spine. “Take a breath.”

  She couldn’t. It hurt.

  For long moments he said nothing, simply holding her. Her shoulders jerked with each sob. He kept telling her she was safe, that he’d never let anyone hurt her again. Darcy didn’t know how long she cried, didn’t feel time passing, only the safe haven of Jack’s arms.

  “I’ve ruined your suit,” she muttered against his chest when she’d calmed.

  “It’s okay. Rarely wear it anymore.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Why, Jack, why did you investigate me?”

  “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t doing anything illegal by helping you.”

  “But you were.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Then why didn’t you turn me in?”

  His shoulders moved. “Because of you.”

  “As flattering as that is, there has to be more than that.”

  “Yeah, there is.” He inhaled and exhaled as if he were about to confess a crime. “My sister was beaten to death by her boyfriend. We didn’t have enough evidence for a trial and he walked. I didn’t want that to happen to you.” He shrugged, old pain tensing his expression. “So I watched your back.”

  “Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry. Is that the reason you’re not a cop anymore?”

  He nodded solemnly.

  There was a stretch of silence, and a thousand thoughts careened through her mind. “Then you know about Maurice.”

  “Yes.”

  Shame swept her. “Oh, God.” She pushed out of his arms.

  “He hurt you, that’s why you go after those women.”

  “Yes.”

  “You even filed charges against him, I know.”

  She laughed without humor. “Yes, I did. But Maurice is a very powerful man, Jack. People listened to him and not to the poor girl he married.”

  She couldn’t believe she was telling him this, that with Jack, it was over, no more hiding, no more lies.

  She sank down onto the sofa, her hands folded. “I stole my son from his father.”

  “You were afraid for Charlie’s life.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Removing his jacket and tie, Jack went to the wet bar and poured her a drink. “I think I do, but you can tell me now, Darcy.”

  When he said her name, her head snapped up. He smiled. “Piper never suited you.”

  “I still can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

  If she wanted proof of his trust, there it was.

  “How much do you know?”

  “Enough to know where you learned all those defense skills.”

  Athena. “Bet that was a shock.”

  “No, you’re a strong woman.”

  “If I was, I would have done something about Maurice before now.”

  “So talk.” He pushed the drink into her hand and sat beside her. “I’m listening.”

  Darcy heard herself speak, but it was as if she were telling a story about a part of herself that didn’t exist anymore. She told him about Athena and the Cassandras, and then going to UCLA, working on movies, and meeting Maurice. Jack asked a few questions, cursed a few times, but didn’t say anything more as she told him about the horrors, the abuse. Being locked in her own house for days at a time. His features were still, but his eyes gave him away.

  She found such peace in them.

  Such tender warmth and love.

  And still she told him all, the shame and regret bringing tears and anger. She told him how Rainy had helped her escape, and how she’d taken the burned clothing.

  And when she was done bringing him up to the present, Rainy’s death, the Cassandras’ investigation, and her own decision to go after Maurice, Jack simply nodded.

  “This evidence you have, the clothing, you’ve had it tested?”

  “No. It might be nothing.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it. I’ll have it tested.”

  “Jack, I can’t involve you in this.”

  He gave her a look that said it didn’t matter anymore. “You did right to have the forgeries documented, especially with Loni.”

  Darcy blinked.

  “I worked with her in Vegas, a few years ago. You have plenty of proof, enough to open a file on Fairchild and Steele.”

  “No, we don’t have a body.”

  “We’ll look. Or the cops will.”

  “Jack, don’t you get it? I could lose Charlie over this.”

  “I won’t let that happen.” The edge in his voice cut through the air between them. “I swear to you. Charlie is not going anywhere.”

  He loves my son, she thought. He loves him.

  “How can you say that? As far as the L.A. police are concerned, Maurice is clean. I’m the criminal.”

  “No, you’re not.” Jack left the sofa and paced a little. “Even if charges were never filed against Maurice, the incident reports have to be on file. There are calls with the dispatcher. You said you have pictures. And with the servants you’ll have witnesses.”

  “Maurice never hit me in front of anyone, Jack. He never said a cross word near a witness. The man went overboard with gifts and jewels. And I accepted them.”

  “Accepting them was placating his temper and we’ll figure this out, together.” He was quiet for a moment.

  “What?” she pushed.

  “If I saw you and Charlie on TV and recognized you, Steele could have seen you at that funeral, too.”

  “Why do you think I’ve been working so hard to get all this together?”

  “He wants you.”

  “He’s not getting me.”

  “Oh, I know that. Because you’re mine.”

  Darcy blinked. He met her gaze, then moved across the room with quick steps as he said, “If you don’t know that by now, then I’ll just have to be clearer.”

  He reached for her. That was all it took.

  Suddenly she was against him, her fingers plowing into his hair, her warm mouth moving hotly over his. His energy slammed into her, and her body fired right back like a rocket, cooking her from the inside out.

  They were savage and primal, tearing at each other like starved animals. She couldn’t be still, as if she had
to run at top speed, nipping at his throat, his mouth, yanking his shirt from his trousers and sliding her tongue over his skin. Jack staggered, his shirt sailing to the floor. The sound of her dress zipper sliding down filled the room. He peeled it off her shoulders down to her waist.

  Immediately he cupped her breasts and she pushed into his touch, begging for more as she shaped his erection trapped in his slacks. She made a little sound of hunger and passion, her kiss growing stronger. Unstoppable. As if she wanted to devour him whole.

  “Oh, Jack, I knew it would be like this,” she murmured against his mouth, then kissed him hotly.

  “See all the time we’ve wasted. Tell me you really want this or I walk,” he said even as he cupped her breasts, thumbed her nipples. “Because we’re fast approaching liftoff.”

  She simply smiled, opened his slacks and freed him.

  “Oh, man,” he groaned as her hand closed around his erection. She stroked him, making him tremble like a teenager, and Jack thrust into her palm.

  “God, I love a woman who takes charge,” he managed, his breath coming in short rasps.

  Darcy felt the power of being a woman, saw it in his eyes as she slid her finger over the moist tip of him. He shuddered for her, kissing her till her legs liquefied.

  “Give me everything, Jack. It’s been so long.” It was almost a dare, a tiny battle for pleasure and he bent, his lips closing over her nipple. She gasped, bending back over his arm and Jack flicked and suckled harder, stroking her body, dipping and rubbing between her thighs.

  Darcy felt the fire inside her rupture and spread. She couldn’t get enough of him, needing to feel alive and connected, even for just one night. Her hands skated over his smooth tanned skin, over ropy muscles that made her insides melt with desire. Then he moved lower, taking her dress down. Except for panties and thigh-high stockings, she was naked beneath. He licked a path down her stomach toward her center. Her body quivered with anticipation. He peeled the panties down and Darcy tipped her head back, her fingers in his hair.

  Oh, I’ve missed this.

  He spread her, driving his tongue between the folds and she flinched, then sighed with pleasure. Cupping her behind, he devoured her, sending untamed heat to the end of her nerves. Her body screamed with delight, and she gasped over and over, groping for him, pulling him back into her arms.

  Mouths met and sank into each other, skin dampened, primed for sex.