by Cindy Stark
It had to be a way out.
If you want to live, don't leave. Jase's warning came back to her. She barely paused. If she stayed, she would surely die. She wanted out. She'd find a way back to her aunt's house. If that wasn't safe, then there were shelters for teenage mothers. Perla from the neighborhood had gone to one. Allie would find something. She'd get a new job and a safe place for her and her baby. She refused to listen to the little voice that questioned what kind of life her baby would have with a mom who would have to work two jobs to put food on the table.
Peering around in the dim light, she started hurrying toward the other end. Who knew what could be in there with her? Mice? Spiders? She focused on her goal and walked faster. After what had happened the previous night and the men who currently included her in their plots, what threat were spiders and mice? She ignored the pain in her arm that burned like a four-alarm fire. Freedom was her number one goal now.
She hadn't hoofed it very far when she heard a clanging noise and then a small headlight appeared in the distance. There was nothing between her and the oncoming light except for the solid cement walls that seemed to close in on her. There was nowhere to hide. Running back to the house wasn't an option.
She hardened her resolve. Maybe it was that the unknown was easier to face than what was behind her, or the fact that she desperately wanted her life back, but she marched forward. She'd find a way to get past the barrier heading her way. And if whatever was coming toward her intended to kill her, then it wouldn't matter if it was in the tunnel or in the kitchen. Running back to the house would only prolong the inevitable. It was a dead end.
Allie slipped the knife out of the sack, holding it along her wrist so the oncoming driver couldn't see it. She steeled her nerves and kept walking. The headlight loomed closer and closer, but she refused to give in to her fears.
It wasn't until she recognized Jase behind the wheel of a golf cart that she felt relief rush through her like warm water. He'd be mad, but she could handle him.
Her relief, however, was short-lived when he came close enough for her to see his face.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He jumped out of the cart and strode over to her. A tight T-shirt outlined his muscles, and the black jacket he wore over it mirrored his disposition. "I told you to stay inside."
Allie kept walking, keeping the knife hidden. "I'm going home."
"You want to die?" He grabbed her good arm, forcing her to stop. The action caused her to drop the pitiful knife. It clamored as it hit the ground, the sound echoing off the cement walls. He glanced at it and then at her. "Tell me you didn't really think that would protect you against your friends from last night."
She looked up into his angry face as she pulled away, her emotions reflecting his. He seemed so much bigger when she stood next to him. He was all muscle...and...and man.
She forced herself to focus on freedom. "They're not going to kill me because they're not going to find me."
"Are you sure about that?" His voice switched to a silky, smooth tone that was in total opposition to the look on his face. "You can't go home. That's the first place they'd look."
"Well, I can't stay here."
"Why not?"
She swallowed her retort. Telling him that his men had questioned his orders was dangerous territory. "I just can't."
"Out on the streets is a perilous place for you to be right now. Going home would be worse." His words deflated her, because that's exactly where she would have gone. Of course, she would have watched the place first to see if anyone was around. But still, she needed the comfort of somewhere familiar.
"Look, Jase. I might appear to be a helpless girl to you, but I grew up on these streets. I know a little bit about avoiding trouble."
"Really? Like you did last night?"
She shifted her stance. "I'm not going to stay locked up in that prison. I'm leaving." She turned and took two steps before he grabbed her again.
"Listen."
She tried to pull away, but this time he wouldn't let go of her.
"Listen to me." He eased his grip, but not enough for her to escape. If he didn't have so many muscles, she might have pressed her luck and tried harder. "They're looking for you. And I don't mean a we'll-get-her-when-we-see-her kind of search. They want you, and they want you now. And"—he paused for effect—"they don't leave potential witnesses alive."
That stopped her. "How do you know?"
"It's my business to know."
"You keep saying that." Her brave façade crumbled. Who were these people who'd decided she no longer deserved to live? She hadn't done anything to them. "Why do you care what happens to me?" she asked. "You put your life on the line for me. I want to know why."
She was about to accuse him of using her like his men had wanted to do, but his face softened, and she found herself caught by the vulnerable look that showed through the crack of his hard exterior. "I don't know." He shook his head. "People die in the streets. It happens. But it's not going to happen to you."
"Why is that your problem?" A moment ago, she was sure he had ulterior motives, but she no longer believed that. It touched her in an unfamiliar part of her heart that he seemed to care so much, but it baffled her at the same time. "Why me?"
He reached for her other arm, taking a step closer to her until their bodies were only inches apart. She tilted her head up, puzzled by the confusing emotions he stirred inside her and that he seemed to struggle with himself. "I can't explain it. I know we're strangers. I know it's not logical, but can't you just cooperate with me for now?"
When he put it like that, how could she argue? He wanted her safe. She wanted to be safe. He was a big, strong man who wanted to protect her. It would be crazy not to let him. At least for a minute or two.
He tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't resist. It seemed like the right place to be. She pressed her cheek against his chest, enjoying the fresh scent of his black shirt.
"For some reason, I like you, and I want to make sure you'll be okay." He rested his chin on top of her head. "Maybe you remind me of my sister."
She relaxed in his arms, enjoying the feeling of security. Violence did strange things to people. "Is she the one who died?"
"Yeah." He stiffened. "Her and others. I don't talk about them much."
"I'm sorry." She hugged him back.
"Yeah, well. It's in the past." He pulled away. "Let's get you inside."
He tried to lead her to the golf cart, but she didn't want anything to do with his ruthless men. Besides, she was determined to make her own decisions from now on. "I don't want to stay here."
"I thought you just agreed to let me protect you."
"I did, sort of. It's really sweet that you want to take care of me." She couldn't tell him it was just as dangerous inside. "But honestly, I don't need you to. I'm capable of taking care of myself."
"You're really not listening, are you?" He huffed out a breath of frustration. "Are you so hard-headed that you're incapable of hearing me?" He eyed her, making her feel unreasonable.
"No," she responded. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could continue. "But you're forgetting the part where I can take care of myself. Last night, I wasn't expecting anything to happen." She paused, remembering Joey's face when the first car had approached. He'd known they were targets. He'd let her be a target next to him. The repercussions of what that meant hurt deep inside. "Today, I know better."
"You don't realize what you're up against. You're in eminent danger. Those men aren't kidding around." He wrapped an arm around her waist and forced her to walk with him. She conceded for the moment because it felt nice. "At least lie low for a few days, make them think you've left town. Then we'll see about getting you home."
There was still one problem. "I can't go back in there."
Jase seemed to pick up on what she wasn't saying. "Why? What happened?" He glanced at the entrance to the hideout. "What did they do?"
> "Nothing." She tried to mask her emotions, hoping he wouldn't see beyond them. "They didn't do anything."
"Damn it." Jase's lips thinned into a hard line. "I'm going to kick their asses."
Allie swallowed, unprepared to deal with his anger. "Really, they didn't do anything. They—they just scare me." She didn't have to say why they frightened her.
He took her chin, tilting it toward him. She looked into his eyes, finding determination and masculine strength. The safety he offered called to her. "You don't have to worry about them. I know they're a sorry-looking lot, but they do what I say, no questions asked."
Allie raised a brow. "Are you sure?" That wasn't how it seemed earlier.
"They won't cross me."
He sounded so sure, and she really wanted to believe him. Really needed a place to lie low for a little while. "You won't leave me alone with them again?"
"I promise they won't step foot in the place again while you're here."
"Okay." Maybe, if she disappeared for a time, the mob really would think she'd left town. If they were serious about finding her, they'd definitely be watching her aunt's house. "I'll stay. For now."
"Good. Let’s get you inside. I’m sure you’re wanting something for the pain that should be flaring about now."
She shrugged. It hurt like a bugger, but she wasn't about to admit it. "Maybe an aspirin."
"Nothing stronger?" He sent her a questioning look. "Doc Green left painkillers for you."
She shook her head. No. She wasn't about to chance hurting her baby again. This child would have a hard enough life as it was.
"Okay. I guess it's a good thing I bought some Tylenol, then. Let me know if you change your mind." He headed for the golf cart, picking up the steak knife on the way. "You might need this." He handed the knife to her.
She raised her eyebrows, and he replied with a smug smile. She took the knife and put it back in her sack, ignoring him.
"What else have you got in there?" He glanced at her as he sat down and started the electric motor.
She climbed in next to him, noticing several plastic sacks full of groceries secured to the back of the cart. "Nothing."
His lips tilted in a genuine smile that charmed the hell out of her. "Come on. Tell me."
She turned her gaze to the cement tunnel ahead of them. "Pop-tarts and some chips." That sounded so lame. No wonder he didn't take her seriously.
A low chuckle came from his direction, and she couldn't resist a glance. "Breakfast of champions, I always say." He smiled.
She couldn't help it. She shook her head and smiled, too. The man was far too attractive for his...or her own good.
He hadn't really deserted her, she admitted as they reached the door to the apartment. He'd only gone for groceries. Somehow, knowing that made her feel a lot better. She climbed out of the cart and started to unload the bags of food.
"I've got 'em." He took the one bag she'd lifted from the back and added it to the others he carried. "Your arm's not in any shape to be carrying anything."
"My other arm's just fine." She walked ahead and opened the door into the kitchen. "And I believe you got shot, too. Why aren't you taking any painkillers?"
"Your hands aren't fine," he said, ignoring her question. He walked past her into the house and put the grocery bags on the counter. "Do you always argue this much?"
"Do you?" She arched a brow, giving him a dose of the attitude that had earned her a smack in the face from her aunt on more than one occasion.
He paused and studied her with dark, unreadable eyes. She swallowed as he closed the distance between them in two powerful strides. Oh, shit. What had she done? She couldn't tell if he was really mad or not. Maybe he had a short fuse.
He stopped when they stood toe to toe. He lowered his face until their lips were just a kiss apart, his eyes boring into hers. A sexual thrill zinged into her like nothing Joey had ever sparked.
"Are you trying to antagonize me?" he whispered.
She couldn't breathe. He was so close, and she was more than tempted to reach out and pull him to her. She didn't want to think about what had happened to bring them to that point. Didn't want to think about the men in the other room. All she wanted was to touch him, wanted him to kiss her with those sensuous lips. Please. Just one kiss.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jase took a step back from Allie. What the hell was he thinking? He headed toward the counter in the safe house's small kitchen and sought refuge in unpacking the groceries. He'd almost kissed her, and kissing her would only make a bad situation worse. He scrubbed his face, trying to erase the need to touch her. She needed a place to lie low and heal until he could figure out what to do with her to protect her from the mob. She didn't need him putting the moves on her.
He shoved a gallon of milk into the fridge and then glanced at her. She watched him from the other side of the bar, her eyes wide from their almost-encounter. "Can I help you?"
"No, I got it," he said a little more roughly than was necessary and then felt guilty. "Just hang there for a minute."
Another thing, he needed to find her some bigger T-shirts. The little white top she wore showcased every curve of her breasts just a little too well.
Big, black, oversized shirts would be good.
This was a business arrangement. He needed to remember that. It was an opportunity to stick it to the Trasatti family. That was all.
Her show of attitude had caught him by surprise. She sure wasn't the timid waif she appeared to be. If he'd been thinking straight, he would have taken the time to assess the situation before advancing on her. He'd wanted to put a little fear into her, gain some respect and hopefully a little distance from this crazy attraction he felt for her. His intent had obviously backfired.
He turned, like the machine he'd trained himself to be and went back to the counter. He pulled a loaf of bread out of a bag and then a head of lettuce, burying his feelings in the mundane task. He'd have a major problem if he couldn't keep his hands off her. He felt the need to constantly hug her, to hold her close. Sure, he wanted to comfort her, but more than that, he wanted her.
Bad.
The recognition that she was attracted to him, too, tied his insides in knots. He hadn't expected it.
The whole thing really pissed him off. He didn't need this kind of a distraction. What he needed was to kick the Trasatti family's ass.
The heated discussion coming from the other room echoed his thoughts. His men wanted to make the mobsters pay for murdering Timmy and Junior. Their deaths were an unfortunate turn of events from the previous evening. And totally unnecessary. What they hell had they been thinking, acting without orders? Shit. When would his men learn?
"I still say we should put her on the street. Let her earn her keep." Sal's voice was bigger than most, and it carried clearly into the kitchen.
Jase stopped. What the hell? He glanced at Allie, and the look on her face explained it all. Her fear of his men. The reason she'd tried to leave the safe house. Her reluctance to return. She must have heard them talking earlier.
He left the remainder of the groceries on the counter. "Stay here," he said, recognizing the nervous look on her face. "I'll be right back."
The conversation dropped dead when Jase entered the living room. He stood in the doorway, taking a turn, giving each of his men a long, hard look. Gene wouldn't hold his stare, but Sal looked at him without flinching.
"What the hell is going on in here?" Jase sent Sal a piercing look.
The overgrown man held his ground. At six-foot-five and over two hundred fifty pounds, Sal Salvatore was a force to be reckoned with. The day Jase had kicked his ass, they'd become friends. "You got to consider it, Jase," his voice boomed. "You've been looking for a way in. Maybe you need to look at something that will bring them out instead."
"Sal..." Jase narrowed his eyes, sending him a warning look. "I decide if and when we make a move."
Sal shook his head. "We have as much at stake as you do. Y
ou know us guys, we all have good reasons for wanting them dead."
"I know." That's what brought his men to him and kept them loyal. "But I decide." Nobody wanted those Trasatti bastards dead more than he did, but he wasn't using Allie to get his revenge.
The men shifted where they stood or sat, their gazes moving from Jase to Sal to the Glock that rested on the table between them. Idiot Leo and his need to show off his new weapon. Their restlessness was palpable, but Jase knew in his gut this wasn't the way to go about it.
"You're going to have to be patient. Allie might bring out Mick or one of the other goons. Sure, their deaths will wound the Trasatti organization. But I'm not looking for a little blood. When I strike, I'm going for the jugular. I want the whole damn family to crumble."
"When's that going to happen?" Mario raised a brow.
Hell, now even Mario had the balls to question him? Good old Mario? The most loyal guy of the bunch?
Enough was enough. Jase strode the rest of the way into the room, fully aware Allie could hear everything they'd said. He picked up Leo's gun and then eyed each of the men around him. "So, am I to understand you're questioning who's boss here? Some of you don't like the way I handle things?" He raised his brows at Mario in a challenge before moving to Sal where their gazes clashed.
"Is that it, Sal? You want out?" Jase's organization was the only one in town where someone could walk away and live to tell about it.
Big Sal met his gaze and held it for several long seconds. Then he sighed. "No. I'm with ya, boss."
"Good." Jase didn't show his relief. The last thing he wanted was a civil war between him and his men with Allie vulnerable in the kitchen, but he sure as hell wasn't going to show any emotion that could be considered weak. "Anyone else?"
A stony look settled on Mario's face, but he didn't comment. Thank God none of the other men did, either.
"Good, now get the hell out of here, all of ya, before I really get pissed."
