by Debra Webb
He leaned forward, his lips almost touching the delicate skin at her temple, and murmured, “Not to worry, querida, I don’t intend to let anything happen to you.”
She drew back and looked up, directly into his eyes, the barest hint of vulnerability in her own. “And why would you do that, Martinez? You don’t even know me….” She shrugged halfheartedly and ran a hand through her silky hair. “Of course, I suppose it would look rather bad for you if you allowed the station’s star reporter to get maimed or worse on your watch. I imagine your uncle or whatever would be somewhat disappointed.”
“Cousin,” he corrected, playing along with the cover he’d been given as a relative of the station manager. “And you’re right. He wouldn’t be too happy. And neither would I.” Ric tapped her on the nose, but resisted the urge to drag his fingertip down and over those lush lips. “Besides, Jones would probably have it in for me if I let anything happened to you while he’s gone.”
Her face brightened at the mention of her regular cameraman. Ric suddenly wished she would light up like that for him, but he quickly pushed away the foolish thought.
She was his assignment.
His first Colby Agency assignment…a very important assignment.
Besides, Piper Ryan would end up with a man like one of those guys he’d seen escorting Atlanta’s society princesses to the charity art auction last night. Anything he and Piper felt at the moment was only physical…and definitely not meant to be acted upon. Not if Ric wanted to live anyway. Lucas Camp would have his hide if he learned that Ric had so much as looked at Piper the wrong way.
“Gun or no gun, I can’t have Townsend and Green blowing this interview for me, partner,” she countered. “What do you propose we do about that?”
Partner? She was putting the ball in his court. Whatever he came up with, it would be a hell of a lot safer than her suggestion that they lose their Bureau tail and meet with her caller.
“Don’t worry, querida, I’ll think of something.”
MARTINEZ DROVE the news van slowly along the street toward the rendezvous point. Townsend and Green had gotten into position forty-five minutes early as Martinez had instructed. He hoped this damned meeting went down without a glitch. He didn’t like taking chances like this, but he had a feeling that if he hadn’t set it up, Piper would have figured out a way to do this on her own.
Hope Place reminded Ric of his old neighborhood. Run-down housing, cluttered streets and kids playing stickball and running around as fearlessly as if they were at Disney World rather than in a place where drive-by shootings and drug deals took place regularly.
“That must be him,” Piper said, wading into his trip down memory lane. She nodded to the young caucasian male who’d stepped out from the alley and now leaned nonchalantly against the side of an abandoned building that had once been a local market.
Ric pulled the WYBN news van over to the curb. Although clearly young, the kid looked as mean as a junk-yard dog, with his worn-out jeans, leather boots and chains. The color of his bandanna marked him as a member of the gang that currently ruled over this territory. The same one Piper had reported on in her two previous segments on life in the forgotten side of Atlanta. While Ric sized him up, the kid took a long drag from his cigarette then flicked the butt away. As he exhaled a cloud of smoke, he met Ric’s gaze for about three seconds.
This guy was trouble.
“I have a bad feeling about this, Ryan,” Ric said quietly, his gaze never leaving the kid’s movements as he lit another cigarette. “I think we should leave now. Townsend and Green aren’t nearly close enough to be effective if this goes sour.”
Piper turned to face him, those blue eyes brilliant points of fierce determination. “I want this guy’s story, Martinez. ¿Comprende? Don’t give me any grief here. Just do your job and your cousin and I will both be happy.”
Ric was going to regret this. He had that feeling. The one that he’d cultivated as a kid living on one of the meanest blocks on the south side of Chicago. His gut tied into knots and his heart kicked into overdrive.
He grabbed her by the arm when she would have opened the van door. “I go first,” he told her, his tone deadpan. “No arguments. You don’t get out until I open your door.”
She tried staring him down but quickly realized the futility of her attempt. “Fine.”
Ric opened his door and slid from behind the steering wheel. He automatically adjusted the weapon tucked into his waistband beneath his shirt as he carefully surveyed the immediate area, then moved around to the passenger side of the van and opened the sliding door to retrieve his camera.
Townsend was positioned in a second-story apartment belonging to one of Piper’s previous interviewees who lived directly across the street. Green was at the end of the block in a deserted Laundromat. Both men were watching every move he and Piper made. But would it be enough?
Raine was around. He wasn’t the kind of guy who divulged his plans unless he wanted to. But he would be close—that was certain. He wouldn’t interfere, of course, unless it became necessary.
Ric hoisted the camera from the van and turned to the teenager waiting a few yards away. “You Taylor?”
“That’s right,” the boy shot back, then spit as if the words had left a bitter taste as they rolled across his tongue.
“You alone?” Ric watched for eye movement and other body language in the kid’s answer. He needed to get a fix on whether or not the kid was telling the truth.
“That’s right, but I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you, amigo.”
He was lying. Adrenaline rocketed through Ric’s veins. He’d noted the way Taylor had shifted his gaze, the subtle change in his posture. The sound of a door opening behind Ric jerked his attention toward Piper. She was out of the van and striding toward Taylor. Ric swore hotly. He’d told her not to move until he opened her door.
She stuck out her right hand, microphone already plugged in and held confidently in her left. “Hello, Mr. Taylor, I’m Piper Ryan.” She shook the kid’s hand firmly. “I’m pleased you want to share your story with WYBN-TV.”
Left with little other choice, Ric hoisted his camera and slid into character. He watched through the viewing lens as Piper effectively questioned the guy, gently guiding him where she wanted him to go. The kid had no clue that he was following her lead so well. Ric smiled in spite of his irritation with her. The lady knew her business, but, damn, she was cocky. He almost frowned at his next thought. A little too much like him. This was definitely a first. Ric had, apparently, met his match.
Taylor suddenly bolted from his casual stance. He shot an arm in the direction of the Laundromat. “Hey, you said there wouldn’t be no cops,” he shouted.
Ric glanced toward the Laundromat. Green must have shown his face somehow. Ric hissed a curse. Just what they needed, the kid going ballistic on them. Piper was trying to calm the situation by assuring Taylor that everything was fine, but her tactic wasn’t working.
Ric lowered his camera and reached for her. “We’re out of here,” he said tightly.
She ignored him. “Mr. Taylor, I wish you’d consider continuing. This interview could explain a great deal of what you and your followers stand for.”
“You lied to me, bitch.”
The camera hit the ground and Ric pulled Piper out of Taylor’s reach just in time. Before Ric could shove her into the van, three of Taylor’s friends poured out of the abandoned building. One grabbed the camera and ran, the other two, along with Taylor, closed in on Ric.
“Get in and lock the doors,” he ordered over his shoulder, hoping like hell she would obey him for once.
“But—”
“Do it!”
Ric heard the door slam shut, then the distinctive click of the power locks. “Okay, Townsend,” he said under his breath, “anytime now.”
Piper frantically searched the van for the weapon Jones kept. She couldn’t leave Martinez out there on his own. Townsend and Green obviously weren’t goi
ng to get there soon enough.
The sound of fists colliding with flesh jerked her attention out the van window. “Oh, God.” She grabbed the equalizer, a three-foot piece of steel pipe Jones kept in the van behind the driver’s seat for just such an emergency. Piper shoved the sliding door open and bounded out. She swung at one of the gang members, slamming the pipe into his upper back with all her might.
“Get in the damned van!” Martinez shouted, then grunted when an elbow connected with his abdomen.
Absolute fear surged inside her, but rather than paralyzing her, it empowered her. She swung blindly at another of Martinez’s attackers. She connected with his shoulder. The blow rattled her bones. The guy dropped like a rock, screaming in agony.
Townsend barreled straight into the middle of the battle, pushing Piper back as he went. Before she had time to react to the sudden move, Green was at her side ushering her back into the van to safety.
“I’ll take that,” Green said as he took the equalizer from her. He closed the door and immediately swung the pipe, taking down another of the gang members that suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
Martinez landed a right hook, and the last of the bunch dropped. Piper jumped back out of the van and ran straight up to Martinez to inspect the damage. She cringed at the blood seeping from his split lip and his battered cheek.
“Back in the damn van, Ryan,” he barked, then dragged in a gasping breath.
Motivated by his lethal glare, Piper obeyed.
MARTINEZ DIDN’T SAY one word the entire trip back to her apartment building. To say he was extremely angry would be putting it mildly. But then so was she, Piper decided as she folded her arms over her chest and clenched her jaw. He’d dropped the camera and one of those hoodlums had absconded with it. She shot Martinez a threatening look, for the good it did with him staring straight ahead.
“You know, the station’s insurance will replace that camera, but there’s no way to replace the interview.” Her anger gained momentum as she spoke, as did the pitch of her voice. “I needed that video footage and you threw it away.”
Martinez parked the van in her reserved slot. He glared at her then, the damage beginning to show on his handsome face, making him look all the more dangerous. “Do I look like I care?”
She jerked at the deadly tone of his voice. Determined not to allow him to get the better of her, she squared her shoulders and glared right back at him. “Well, you should.” She snatched up her purse and yanked on the door handle to open her door. “It is your job, you know.”
She turned away from his hot glare and strode toward the entrance of her building. Townsend was already going inside, having scouted out the landscape.
Fury boiled up inside her. Her whole life was a mess. If the SSU weren’t threatening to kill her, then Green wouldn’t have been there to interfere with her story today. Martinez wouldn’t have dropped the camera and lost the video…and he wouldn’t have gotten beaten up. She swallowed against the lump of emotion forming in her throat. He was hurt and it was her fault. It infuriated her all the more that she felt this way about him—not the regret that he’d gotten hurt, but those other feelings that she couldn’t quite label.
She stormed up the stairs, Martinez right on her heels. And did he have to live next door to her, as well? She lengthened her stride. She couldn’t get away from him and these crazy feelings fast enough.
Townsend stepped out of her apartment and gave the all-clear sign. Her apartment—her home—was safe for her to enter. She hated living like this. She hated that a bunch of madmen had reduced her life to this level. The renewed burst of outrage sent her common sense scurrying into those rarely used recesses of gray matter.
“You know—” she pivoted on Martinez, knowing he was right behind her “—Jones would never have lost that camera.” Their gazes locked for several long seconds, the fury simmering between them like molten lava. When Piper could tolerate the dark heat of his eyes no longer, she turned on her heel and stamped into her apartment.
The door slammed loudly behind her a few seconds later, a deliberate warning that Martinez had followed.
She whipped around to face him and threw her purse onto a nearby chair. “Get out of my apartment, Martinez. I don’t have anything left to say to you.”
If the glitter in his eyes was any indication, he was beyond rational speech. She felt a twinge of apprehension. The battered cheek and split lip only made him look fiercer. “I asked you to leave,” she repeated with a good deal less conviction.
He looked away from her, then blew out a harsh breath. “No seas pendeja.”
A fresh wave of irritation washed away the lingering hint of apprehension. “What did you say?” she demanded. Though she spoke Spanish fairly well, she hadn’t quite caught that remark. Something about not being stupid maybe. Whatever he’d said, she was more than certain that it wasn’t the least bit flattering.
He stepped closer, his hands braced on his hips. “I said that you shouldn’t be stupid, Miss Ryan. You would risk your life and mine for a story that two weeks from now won’t matter.”
Every ounce of rage drained from her as if she’d been stabbed and it had bled from her open wound. She blinked away the hurt she knew rose instantly into her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Realization seemed to dawn on Martinez then. “You’re right.” He plowed his fingers through his hair, disheveling it further. “I was out of line. I understand how much your work means to you.”
Piper let out a breath and closed her eyes. She pressed her fingertips to her closed lids and tried to think rationally. It had been a long day. Neither of them was thinking clearly at the moment. She pressed her fingers to her lips a moment before she spoke. “I was out of line, too, I guess.” Her right hand fluttered in midair a moment as she tried to figure out a way to explain what she felt. Finally she dropped her arms to her sides and admitted the truth, “I was scared, Martinez. I really thought they were going to hurt you.”
God, why did her admission have to sound so…personal?
“Me?” He reached out and traced her cheek. The smile that spread across his handsome face was mesmerizing. He grimaced at the pain that move cost him. “I can take care of myself. But you took me by surprise wielding that pipe.”
Heat stained her cheeks. She really had done that, hadn’t she? Jones would be proud. “Jones calls it the equalizer.”
“I’d say he was right.” Martinez rubbed at his bruised jaw. “Things could have gotten a lot worse really fast. You did good, Ryan, even though I did tell you to stay in the van.”
She clasped her hands together in front of her to keep from fidgeting. “I’ve never been very good at following orders,” she offered contritely.
“So I’ve noticed.”
Her gaze collided with his once more. The heat there made her tremble inside. “You…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “You need some ice for that.” She gestured to his jaw, afraid to touch him, but wanting desperately to do just that. Her heart started to pound at the mere thought of what his skin would feel like beneath her fingertips.
He captured her hand and drew it to his face as if he’d read her mind. The hitch in his breathing at her touch sent a spear of desire straight through her. His skin was smooth and warm, the feel of it making her tingle.
Martinez slid one arm around her waist and pulled her close against his lean, hard body. He tangled the fingers of his free hand in her hair. “I know I’m going to regret this.”
Before she could protest, his mouth covered hers. His lips were hot and firm, yet soft and gentle somehow. Her heart seemed to stop beating all together only to jolt back into an erratic rhythm. Her hands slid over the silky smoothness of his shirt, around his neck, and forged into his short hair. Her body went bonelessly soft, contouring to his hard, male terrain. A blast of need, of pure desire, mushroomed inside her. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and Piper gladly opened for him. The feel of that part
of him inside her banished any inhibitions she might have had left. She tiptoed, kissing him harder. He groaned when she pressed her hips more firmly into his. The coppery taste of blood reminded her of his injured lip, but she couldn’t bear to draw away from the escape, the pleasure he offered.
Her telephone rang. Martinez started to draw away but she pulled him back to her, hungry for more of him. She thrust her tongue inside his mouth and any thoughts of retreat apparently left him since his arms went tight around her once more. He picked her up, moving until he could press her against the wall. His hands moved over her body now, touching, learning, tantalizing. Her fingers found their way to the buttons of his shirt. She wanted to touch more of that hot, smooth skin.
The answering machine picked up, playing her outgoing message as her palms flattened against his bare chest. He growled savagely, grinding his hips into hers. The feel of his arousal made her shiver, made her weak. Her feminine muscles clenched in protest of the long months without release.
“Piper, this is Lucas. We need to talk now,” emanated from the answering machine and echoed around them.
Martinez’s mouth stopped moving over hers. He released her instantly and stepped away. Piper blinked, confused. Her whole body cried out at the sudden denial of his nearness.
“I have to go,” he said, his voice still thick with the lust burning between them. Desire still clouded his gaze, but he turned away all the same.
Before she could even utter a reasonable protest, he had walked out the door.
Humiliation seared through her. She was a complete idiot. She had kissed Martinez like a starved nympho, and he’d walked out like nothing had happened. Fury quickly quenched her humiliation. Well, she might have let her guard down this once, but it wouldn’t happen again. In fact, if she had anything to do with it, Martinez would find himself working with another reporter.
