At last she did meet my searing gaze.
Before I could smile, though, her eyes filled with panicked recognition. I was close enough to see her pupils dilate and a line of sweat bead across her forehead. Why did she look like she wanted to run for her life? Why did she look like she knew exactly why I was there?
The worry on her face finally allowed me to separate my brain from the lust-filled haze of my body to make some calculations.
Mike the mechanic told me Duncan worked at the club. He’d told me Duncan would stand out. I’d been thinking of a bouncer. A bartender. Hell, even a janitor. This…
Shit.
It couldn’t be true.
Except I knew it was.
Jayme Duncan is a woman. The conclusion hit me like a bullet. Jayme Duncan is that woman, up there. She’s the same woman I slept with last night, and she knows why I’m here for her.
The mechanic’s reluctance to say he knew her, Cohen’s preoccupation with treating this assignment with discretion…it all made sense. In fact, it made so much sense that I almost tossed aside my commitment to bringing her in. I didn’t want any part of dragging in a woman, presumably against her will, to face Blue and his associates.
She continued to dance, but it was hurried now, like she couldn’t wait to get it over with. She was going to bolt the second she got off that stage.
I was going to have to be fast if I wanted to catch her.
* * *
The crowd was not happy that Jayme Duncan left them wanting. I was grateful for it. Their grumbling was an excellent cover for my sudden flight from the table. It kept the bouncers busy being intimidating, and it kept the waitresses hurrying with the drinks. No one was looking my way as I slinked across the club and eased my way through the same backdoor that girl and I used the night before. I was almost disappointed at how easy it was.
Out of habit, I pressed my back against the wall as I sneaked down the poorly lit hall in the opposite direction of the exit. I paused across from a closed door and listened. Feminine giggles poured out from behind it. My instincts told me Jayme Duncan wasn’t in there. I moved past it to the silent, partially open one farther down the hall. I pushed gently, and the door swung open soundlessly, revealing the girl’s quick-moving form.
She was fully covered now, in another, knee-length dress. It swayed appealingly with her hurried actions.
Does she own a pair of jeans? I wondered. Or does she always dress like a ’50s housewife?
Irrationally, I wanted it to be the latter.
It was hard to dismiss the memory of the curve of her near-naked behind on the stage just moments earlier. It was even harder to push aside how she felt, poised over me with passion clouding her eyes the night before. The blond wig was gone, and so was the unhurried sensuality of her performance. I watched her toss things into a soft-sided, flower-covered suitcase for another moment before speaking.
“Don’t scream,” I cautioned.
She turned around, and the full force of her blue eyes, dark hair, and creamy skin hit me again.
Damn it. She’s even more beautiful than I remembered.
Her mouth was a perfectly round, perfectly kissable O in the centre of her face. She recovered her surprise quickly, though, and stood very still, watching me with a guardedly nervous expression dominating her features.
I gave her a tight nod. “You recognized me when you were up there on stage. I knew you did.”
“I’m not interested,” she replied coldly.
“That’s a bit of lie. Or at least it was yesterday.” I shot her a smirk.
Her face went pink. “It was a mistake.”
“You think so? Is that why you sent my car back?”
“That wasn’t me. That was Ellis.”
“Is Ellis your boyfriend? Or your pimp?”
The words were intentionally cruel and intended to drive a wedge between us. Instead, her sharp intake of breath made me feel guilty.
“Ellis is my boss,” she corrected. “He owns the club and he doesn’t like cars left overnight in his lot.”
I took a step closer. I touched her cheek, and told myself it was because I wanted to prove a point, and not because I felt compelled to feel the softness of her skin. She jerked away, but not before her face started to colour. It was easy to see, even under her thick make-up. I stared in fascination at her blush, watching it bloom from tiny dots into large, pink stains.
How does a woman who takes off her clothes for a living manage to achieve that level of schoolgirl embarrassment?
It didn’t really matter, though. The colour on her face made my body heat up, and I had to brush off my sudden, base reaction. I needed to find a way to forget everything that happened the previous night. Quickly.
“I think you know I’m not here about yesterday. Or about my car,” I stated.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, but the fact that it was a deception was evident in her too-wide eyes.
I cleared my throat. “Let’s go.”
“Go?”
“Cohen expects a prompt delivery.”
“What’s he paying you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Why? Are you going to double it? Save it for paying what you owe. I’m not in this for the money.”
“What else is there?”
I raised a lecherous eyebrow, and her face somehow managed to get even redder. She tipped up her chin defiantly.
“If that’s that case,” she said. “Then you already got what you came for.”
Tell her you didn’t know she was the target, urged a small voice in my head.
I shrugged it off. “It never hurts to ask for seconds. Now. Let’s go.”
“No.”
“I prefer my women unbound and un-gagged, but if that’s the way we have to play this…”
“I have someone waiting for me,” she announced. “If I don’t come home, he’ll worry.”
I assessed her expression. Her eyes were clear, and I thought she might be telling the truth. At least partially.
“Who’s bigger?” I asked. “Me? Or him?”
She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it.
“Save the size-doesn’t-matter speech, Jayme. We all know it’s a lie anyway.”
“Jayme?” Panic came through in her voice, loud and clear.
“Save that denial, too. There’s no point in saying you aren’t Jayme,” I replied, and grabbed her arm.
“What if I’m not?”
I paused. There was something sincere about her question. I let go of her arm and gripped her chin with my fingers instead. I had to stop my thumb from impulsively tracing the line of her jaw once more.
What if it isn’t her?
Doubt and hope mingled in my mind. My instincts were rarely wrong. Of course, I’d never slept with a mark before, either. Proof that nothing was certain.
“Cohen wants Jayme Duncan presented to him on platter, preferably with a shiny bow. I’ve spent a lot of time tracking that name,” I said slowly. “So, if that isn’t you…if it’s that guy who has you so worried at home, or if it’s your BFF on the pole, you’d better speak up now.”
“Polly!”
At the sound of the frustrated, masculine voice, I dropped the girl’s chin and prepared to hand out a punch. I’d been dying to hit someone all night. Warm fingers on my elbow made me stop, mid-swing. I looked down to see that Jayme—or not-Jayme, if she was telling the truth—had placed her hand on my arm.
“It’s okay, Ellis,” she said to the angry, potbellied man who barrelled through the door.
“Doesn’t look okay,” the dude—Ellis—grumbled.
The girl slid her hand down my forearm and laughed lightly. “Doesn’t it? This big lug is my boyfriend. He just found out where my pay cheques have been coming from.”
Big lug? Boyfriend?
I was too confused and too amused to argue.
Ellis ran a hand over his nearly bald head and eyed me uncertainly.
&nb
sp; “This man is?” he asked.
“Is that a problem?” I demanded.
The other man ignored me and focused on Jayme. “Ah. Well. Thought you said he knew you worked here.”
“I lied.”
“She’s good at that,” I added.
In spite of my biting remark, the girl moved a little closer to me, and slid an arm around my waist. I didn’t know what her angle was, and at that moment, I didn’t care. Her hip was resting against mine, and when she gave me a little squeeze, the rest of her body seemed to melt into me. She was so close I could smell the sweet scent of her floral shampoo.
“Sweetie, this is my boss, Ellis Green.”
“Pleased to meet you.” My greeting walked a line between sarcasm and pleasantness.
“I somehow doubt that,” the other man muttered, then directed his attention toward the girl once more. “I was going to ask why you didn’t finish the dance, Polly, but I guess the answer is obvious.”
“Polly needs to come with me now,” I stated agreeably and leaned down to kiss her neck and nibble her earlobe affectionately, before whispering, “I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”
“Not in front of the boss, sweetie,” she said, and tried to pull away.
“Don’t worry, my love. He’s not your boss anymore.”
She stiffened, but there was no way in hell I was letting her go again until I had her standing in front of Cohen Blue.
Chapter Six
Polly
I followed the man with the piercing green eyes out to the parking lot. My hand was wrapped tightly around my suitcase handle, and my eyes were trained straight ahead.
I worked on not panicking, but the second he’d uttered Jayme’s name in conjunction with Cohen’s, a tight ball of fear formed in my stomach. As much as I was scared of facing Cohen myself, the thought of what he’d do to Jayme was much scarier.
I’ve got to protect him at all costs.
When the man stopped in front of his Mustang, I almost crashed into him. I managed not to, but I did stumble and drop my bag.
He turned around then, and pulled me against him, turned again, and pushed me up against the car. The evening air was barely cool, but the side panel of the Mustang was icy. I shivered, and I wriggled against the man involuntarily, trying to absorb some of his heat.
“You like that?” he asked softly.
“No,” I lied.
He ran his hands down my arms, paused at my hands, and then drew them over his shoulders.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Giving your boss a show. He’s watching us from the door, right now.”
“He’s not.”
“He is. You planted this seed, babe. I’m just helping it grow.”
His hands found my waist without even fumbling. He exerted a soft pressure on my hips that made me gasp. I wanted to fight against the heat pooling in my belly. Or at least I wanted to want to fight. But all I really wanted was to give in. And I had an excuse. I needed my boss to believe the lie I’d told him.
Jayme. As backwards as it seems, you need to do this for him.
My captor leaned down, and I tilted up my head and closed my eyes. When he brought his fingers up to cup my face, the instinct to yield took over. I snaked my arms more tightly around his neck. His mouth came down on mine, tugging apart my lips with his teeth and pulling on the sensitive skin there. His tongue followed the searing trail left by his teeth before he pulled away. When he let me go, I had to suck in a much needed breath.
“I think that’s good enough,” he said into my hair.
Then he slid away from me to open the car door. He grabbed my arm and fixed me with an intense stare.
“If you’re not the person Cohen’s after, tell me now, and direct me to the real Jayme Duncan.”
I inhaled sharply and tried to compose myself. “He’s looking for me. But I’d prefer if you called me Polly.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Pin-up Polly?”
“That’s me.”
He gave me a sharp nod. “Fine. Have it your way, Polly. Get in.”
I picked up my suitcase and climbed in. By the time I buckled my seat belt, he was already behind the wheel and gazing at me coolly. He grabbed the suitcase from my lap, unzipped it and began rifling through it. He gave me a triumphant wink as he pulled out a cell phone and a thick wad of cash.
I tried to cover my dismay. I’d been saving that money for almost a year, careful to keep it out of the bank so Jayme and I could run at a moment’s notice. And now this man was tucking it into his black messenger bag, and even if—no, when, I corrected myself—I got away, I doubted I would ever see it again.
He slipped the key into the ignition, pulled to the edge of the parking lot, rolled down the window, and tossed the phone into the bushes before peeling out.
“Can’t have you using this to contact that nice boy you mentioned you have waiting at home for you. But I’ll hold on to this money for Cohen.”
“Great,” I muttered. “You’re a thief and a kidnapper.”
“Buckle up,” was all he replied.
He didn’t even glance my way as he pulled onto the road, travelling in the opposite direction I longed to be going.
I used the time to get control of my thoughts.
Cohen Blue.
The man’s cold, calculating stare threatened to fill my mind and I shoved it aside.
No.
For six long years I’d been preparing for the eventuality of getting caught. Now that it had actually happened, I couldn’t fall to pieces. I needed to focus on getting home to Jayme, and to maintaining calmness.
I took inventory of the things that worked in my favour. I was supposed to be working for several more hours. So it would be at least that long before Jayme would start to worry, and if I was really lucky, he’d be sleeping late and not even notice I was missing until well into the morning. And I had Misty on my side. Any other place, any other time, I would’ve had no one.
Stupid, stupid.
I’d definitely stayed too long in Trent Falls, lulled into a false sense of security because the town was small and the people were friendly. I should have known—no, I did know—that Cohen’s reach extended too far for me to escape so easily. If I’d been quicker and smarter, if I’d stuck to my plan of staying nowhere longer than six months, I would be safe at home at that moment. Albeit a different home, but a home nonetheless. Cohen’s enforcer admitted that he’d spent a lot of time searching for me.
I dug my own hole.
I looked over at the man while trying to pretend I wasn’t. His expression was dark. It marred what was otherwise a very handsome face. I’d been so caught up in the moment last night that I’d barely taken the time to really see what he looked like. Now, I allowed myself a brief, distracted moment to assess him.
He had a dark hair, tinged with early grey, and lashes that matched. His cheekbones were well defined and his brow was strong. At that moment, his jaw was stiff and his mouth was set in a frustrated line. I knew those lips were soft, though. They’d been gentle on my neck, and sweet on my ear. And on my mouth…I shivered in remembered pleasure.
Forget controlling your thoughts, I chastised myself. You need to control your body.
But my reaction was involuntary. It was the kind of response that couldn’t be controlled. When he kissed me beside the car, and I tried to pull away from him, my body had fought me to curve into him instead. It felt good and right to be pressed up against the man’s solid form.
Even now, watching the way his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, possessively, made me ache to feel them on my body again. If it wasn’t for Jayme…
“Are you going to tell me what that was back there?”
His question yanked me back to reality.
“You’re the one who kissed me.” My face was burning.
“I’m not talking about that.”
“I don’t know what you mean then,” I replied curtly.
> “You had an opportunity to save yourself. Or at least buy some time. All you had to do was tell your boss who I was.”
“I don’t know who you are.”
He ignored my snide reply. “Why didn’t you give me up?”
What had been going through my mind at the moment Ellis walked in? Panic. A need to protect Jayme. The sexy way my captor’s shirt hugged his chest. I couldn’t tell him any of that. So I went for a half-truth.
“I didn’t want Ellis to get hurt.”
“You thought I would hurt him?”
“You wouldn’t have?”
His hands flexed on the steering wheel and his frown deepened. “I’m not in the business of hurting people who don’t deserve it.”
“And who decides if they deserve it?” I scoffed. “You?”
“I find it’s usually pretty obvious.”
“I find it’s usually pretty subjective,” I countered. “Especially for Cohen Blue’s men. He doesn’t exactly employ the fairest judges.”
“No, he doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m a thug.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I was familiar enough with Cohen’s hiring practices to be sure that every man who worked for him was a thug.
He glanced at me and read my expression. “You know him well?”
There was a hint of some underlying tension in his voice.
“Well enough,” I answered noncommittally.
He eyed me up and down. “You danced for him?”
“No!”
“Relax. It was a logical assumption.”
“Based on what?” I snapped.
The man’s eyes widened at my tone. “Based on what I know about him and what I know about you.”
“You don’t know anything about me. And I doubt you know as much about Cohen as I do.”
“You must’ve spent quite a bit of time with him, then. Cohen doesn’t let many people close to him.”
“I know him better than I’d like to, okay?”
“Is that right?”
His gaze flicked back to my face. It was curious and a bit too interested. I suddenly wanted to steer the conversation away from both Cohen and my home life, but the green-eyed man seemed determined to probe me about it.
Pinups and Possibilities Page 5
