by Nicole Helm
Since that caused an annoying lump in her throat, she gave him a little nudge. “We have to go.”
He sighed heavily against her neck, but he pulled away. He looked her in the eye, Mr. Texas Ranger all over his face.
“We’re going to go over this one more time—”
“Bennet.”
“We don’t separate unless absolutely necessary. You have your cell phone, your knife and your gun on you at all times.” He swept his gaze over her. “Where the hell did you put the gun?”
She grinned, lifting the long skirt up to her hip, where a thigh holster held her Glock. “I mean, God help me if I need it quickly, but at least it’s there.”
“And the knife is in your bra?”
“Always.”
He grinned. “A very, very unique goddess.” He cocked his head as his gaze followed her dress hem back down to the floor. “Are you wearing tennis shoes?”
“Don’t you dare tell Tawny. She’ll kill me.”
Bennet chuckled as they moved toward the door, but any humor left them both. What lay ahead of them was risky, and potentially dangerous, most especially for her since her attacker a few days ago had said she’d be dead within the week.
But that only made her more determined. She’d been through one horrible thing in her life already with the kidnapping, and no pissant minion who botched the simplest kidnapping attempt was going to make her cower in fear.
Dead within the week? Not without a fight.
Bennet stopped abruptly with his hand on the knob. He turned to face her, staring at her intently, and Alyssa didn’t know what he was looking for, what there was to say in this moment.
“No unnecessary risks,” he said eventually.
“What if it leads to the answer?”
He released the knob and curled his fingers around her upper arm. Hard. “No unnecessary risks. Promise me.” No jokes, no charming smiles. This wasn’t even that Texas Ranger stoicism thing he had down so well. It was dark and dangerous.
But she wasn’t about to promise things he wouldn’t. “You first.”
His mouth flattened into a grim line, and the tight grip he had on her arm didn’t loosen.
“No unnecessary risks is a two-way street, Bennet. Either we both take them, or neither of us do.”
It took him another few seconds of whatever inner arguing he was doing to speak. “Fine. Neither.”
Which was not the answer she had expected in the least. “But... We have to figure this out. It’s your important case. It’s my mother’s murder. You can’t honestly think we should play it safe.”
“Yes, that’s what I honestly think,” he replied grimly.
“Why? When we’ve worked so—”
He took her other arm, giving her a little shake. “You mean more to me than whatever this is,” he said, so darkly, so seriously, Alyssa could hardly catch her breath.
He blinked, his grip loosening, as if he was a little surprised at his own vehemence. “So, we play it safe. Got it?”
She could only stare at him. Mean more to him? When had she ever meant more to someone? When had her safety ever been paramount to an end result? Oh, her brothers had kept her safe for twenty years, but for the cartel. She’d been a burden and a duty, not something someone cared about. She’d maybe never thought of it that way, but she understood it now.
Understood it because she’d never felt like a burden to Bennet. She felt...important. Central.
“Alyssa.”
She nodded stupidly. “I got it.” She swallowed down all the tremulous emotion in her throat. “No risks.”
He released her from his grip, holding out his elbow with one arm and opening the door with his other hand. “Then, let’s go.”
She slipped her arm through his, still looking up at the hard planes of his face. Clean-shaven and so dashing-looking in his suit. And she meant something to him. Something enough that he’d rather her be safe than solve this case that had been so important to him just days ago.
It was a big deal, no matter what she tried to tell herself. It was a big deal he’d think that, say that, prioritize keeping her safe over solving this case.
He led her to the staircase, and she had to focus on the steps instead of his handsome face. Even though everyone in the house would be attending the party, it was still decorated to the hilt. Christmas lights and evergreen garlands sparkled over the curving banister of the grand staircase.
The floor gleamed, clean and expensive. Even the wood trim seemed to glow in the twinkle of the Christmas lights. The Christmas tree shone bright white from the living room, and it was like walking through a magazine or a castle or anything but anywhere she belonged.
She’d never fit into this sparkling world of wealth and appearances. No matter how many dresses Bennet bought for her or how often Tawny did her makeup. She was a Jimenez. Criminal by association no matter whom she might help bring down.
Bennet could never accept that. She might mean something to him, but once this case was over, the only way they could go was in opposite directions.
So, there was no use getting her hopes up and, more, no use keeping her promise.
Chapter Fourteen
Bennet scanned the crowd for a flash of anyone who might resemble the photograph he had of Salvador Dominguez. He scanned the crowd for any of Alyssa’s brothers. He scanned the crowd over and over again.
But all he ever saw were legions of his parents’ friends and donors and Texas elite. From the looks of it, Alyssa was just as frustrated about it as he was.
“Let’s dance.”
Alyssa grimaced. “You think I know how to dance?”
“It’s just swaying to a beat.” He used the arm that had been situated around her waist the whole evening to lead her to the small cluster of people dancing to slow, jazzy Christmas music. Once on a corner of the dance floor under sparkling lights and all the sparkling jewels on bodies all around them, he drew her close.
She put one hand on his arm and the other she clearly had no idea what to do with. He took it in his, placing it on his shoulder. He eased her into a simple side-to-side step.
“Why do you know how to dance?” she grumbled. “They teach that at Texas Ranger school?”
“Cotillion.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What the hell is that?”
He laughed, drawing her even closer. “If I explained it, it would only horrify you.”
“That I believe.” Her gaze did another scan of the room before returning to his. “Is he not coming? Is he hiding?” she whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“This is crazy-making, all these questions. All this waiting. Why doesn’t he grow a pair and make a move?”
Bennet wanted to laugh, but the thought of any one of the numerous potential “bad guys” out there making a move filled him with dread. They’d already been too close to Alyssa being hurt.
But all he could do was sway to the music, holding her close and watching the room diligently. Maybe whoever it was—Sal or Dom Cochrane, Salvador Dominguez or one of Alyssa’s brothers—wouldn’t dare try anything as long as he was by her side.
Well, if that were the case, he wouldn’t leave it. And no matter how much she’d chafe at the idea, it didn’t bother him in the least.
A moody version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” started playing, and Alyssa rested her cheek against his chest, and he could all but feel the sadness waving off her.
He wanted to promise he’d get her back to her old life by Christmas next week, but how could he possibly promise that? No matter how many little clues they managed to put together, they were still as in the dark about the end game as they’d ever been.
“It’ll be all right,” he murmured, rubbing a hand down her back and up a
gain.
She sniffled a little. “What if they don’t forgive me?”
“Who?”
“Gabby and Natalie. I haven’t visited the baby. I’ve been ignoring their calls. If I miss Christmas... What if they don’t forgive me? It’s not like we’re related by blood or anything. They don’t owe me anything, and then I’d be alone. Again.”
“You won’t be alone.” No matter how many qualms he had about what might happen after, he couldn’t imagine his life anymore without Alyssa in it. Didn’t want to.
She’d stiffened in his arms, and she didn’t raise her head. He could all but feel the questions in her, but she didn’t voice any of them.
“Besides, they’ll forgive you. Even if you’re not blood related, they’re family, and you’ll be able to explain this all to them afterward. They’ll understand. They know how these kinds of things work. Not only are they both involved with law enforcement, but they’ve both been in danger before. They know what it’s like.”
She finally pulled her head back and looked up at him. “Did you really mean—”
There was a tap on Bennet’s shoulder and a loud, booming voice. “May I cut in?”
Bennet glanced back at his father, who had his best politician’s smile plastered on his face. Bennet tried to fight the scowl that wanted to take over his mouth.
“You’ve been hiding your date all night, Bennet,” Dad said jovially, clapping him on the back a little hard. “Let one of us old hats have a turn.”
“It looks like your mother’s free,” Alyssa said, nodding toward Mom walking away from the cluster she’d been talking with earlier. “Why don’t you go dance with her?”
He should. He should do some digging about Sal Cochrane here where things would be so busy and booze-filled Mom was likely to forget his questioning in the morning. And Alyssa wasn’t just a grown woman, but a capable, armed grown woman who could handle his father for a quick dance. Even if Dad said something asinine.
He wanted to finish their conversation. He wanted to assure her he meant everything. And he downright hated the thought of leaving her, stupid as it was.
But what could happen to her if she was dancing with Dad? It wasn’t like whoever they were waiting for was going to pop out and snatch her away when she was dancing with a US senator, for God’s sake.
“All right,” Bennet said, smiling tightly and probably not at all convincingly. “Just return her to me after the song, huh?”
Dad rolled his eyes, taking Alyssa’s hand off Bennet’s shoulder and clutching it in his own.
“Such a caveman I raised, Alyssa. I hope this boy has a few more manners than that.” Dad slid his arm around Alyssa’s waist and started leading her away.
Bennet stood at the corner of the dance floor like a fool. Dad was either trying to piss him off or... Well, no, probably just trying to irritate him. Bennet shouldn’t let him win.
He forced himself to walk over to his mother, tried to make the scowl on his face soften into something bordering on pleasant.
“Are you having fun?” Mom asked.
“The time of my life,” Bennet replied drily, causing his mother to chuckle.
“You look quite cozy with that girl.”
Bennet merely grunted. Once the case was figured out he’d fight Mom on this battle, but not before. For now, he’d be as discreet and noncommittal as possible.
“You know, there were a few names on the guest list I didn’t recognize,” he offered, failing hard at casual.
“Worried about security, dear?”
“Something like that. I don’t remember you ever mentioning Sal Cochrane before.”
Mother’s eyebrows drew together. “Cochrane. That name doesn’t ring any bells.”
“He’s a donor of yours.”
Mom chuckled. “No. Honey, trust me. I know all my donors. I make sure of it.”
Bennet frowned. Mom could be lying, he supposed, but he knew his mother fairly well. He knew her politician charm and the way lies could fall out of her mouth with the utmost authenticity, but she was rarely flippant about lying.
He pulled out his phone and brought up the email from Dad’s assistant with the donor list and handed it to her. “It says Sal Cochrane right here.”
Mom took the phone and squinted at the screen before scrolling. “Mariah must have made some kind of mistake. This isn’t my donor list.”
“You’re certain?”
Mom nodded, scrolling more “Julie Dyer is on it. Trust me, she wouldn’t give me a cent if her life depended on it. That’s your father’s donor list.” She handed the phone back to him, and Bennet nearly dropped it.
If this was Dad’s list, then Dad was the connection.
And he was dancing with Alyssa.
* * *
THE WHOLE NOT-KNOWING-HOW-TO-DANCE thing was a little less concerning when she was dancing with Bennet. Dancing with his father, no matter that there was far more distance between their bodies, made her inordinately tense.
“This is a nice...party. Gala. Thing.” Alyssa wanted the floor to swallow her whole. She sounded like an idiot.
“My wife just loves her...party gala things,” Mr. Stevens replied with a wink.
Alyssa took a deep breath and tried to relax. Mr. Stevens was nice. A little slick, but nice nonetheless. None of Mrs. Stevens’s ice.
“Are you all right, dear? You’re looking a little peaked. Why don’t we step out onto the balcony? Get a little fresh air.”
“No, I’m all right.”
But Mr. Stevens was tugging her through the swaying throng of dance-floor people and across the room.
Alyssa wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but something didn’t sit right. She glanced over at where Bennet had been. His head was bent over his phone as he talked to his mother.
Mr. Stevens all but pulled her onto the balcony, and she was about to scream, jerk her hand away, anything, but there were people on the balcony, even a waiter carrying around trays of champagne with little red fruit floating in the top, sprigs of what looked like holly decorating the bottom of the glass.
It could hardly be that sinister if there were plenty of people around. It could hardly be that sinister considering Mr. Stevens looked downright jolly.
Mr. Stevens took two champagne flutes as a waiter passed, handing her one. She took it even though she had no plans to drink it.
“Now, you’ve made quite an impression on my son, and that is a hard thing to do. God knows he’ll keep you away from my wife and me as long as that’s the case, so I wanted to corner you a bit. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Well, um, no. I guess not,” she managed. It was stupid to want to impress him, please him, but no matter how strained Bennet’s relationship might be with his parents, he did love them. And no matter how she told herself there was no future for her and Bennet... She couldn’t quite bring herself to blow up that tiniest inkling of a chance.
“Tell me about yourself, Alyssa.” He took a sip of his champagne, looking like some ritzy watch or cologne ad.
“Oh, well, there’s not a whole lot to tell.”
“Where’d you grow up? What do you do? How’d you meet my son?”
Alyssa opened her mouth, hoping some kind of lie would just fall out, but it didn’t. Nothing did. Not even a squeak.
“Are they really that difficult of questions, Ms. Jimenez?”
Alyssa froze. He knew her name, and something about that slick smile that had never quite settled right with her now suddenly seemed sinister.
But he was as relaxed as ever, watching her as he sipped champagne and waited for her to answer.
“Cat got your tongue? Have a few drinks. Might loosen things up for you.”
Alyssa swallowed, trying to think straight and not panic. “What ex
actly is it that you want from me?”
“I’m just concerned about my son, Alyssa. Surely you understand what kind of good, upstanding man Bennet is. He has such a clear sense of right and wrong. I’d hate for him to get wrapped up in the wrong kind of people and get himself hurt.”
“Your son can take care of himself,” she returned, trying to figure out an exit strategy that wouldn’t draw attention. But the people on the balcony were dwindling, and the waiter had disappeared.
Pretty soon she’d be out here alone with Mr. Stevens, and she didn’t think that would be very good at all.
“Are you so sure about that?” He said it so casually, so offhandedly, it shouldn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything, but Alyssa couldn’t help but read it as a threat.
This was all wrong. All wrong.
“I should get back,” she muttered, taking a retreating step backward.
Mr. Stevens’s hand shot out and clamped onto her wrist in less than the blink of an eye. “Now, now, Ms. Jimenez. Surely you don’t need to rush off just yet.”
“Let go of me,” Alyssa said between gritted teeth. She tugged at her arm, but he held fast, something in his expression hardening.
Alyssa wanted to panic, but she fought it off. She just had to break his grasp and run inside and to Bennet. She could always grab one of her weapons with her free hand, but she didn’t think waving a knife or gun at a US senator for some veiled threats was going to go over very well.
She heard the click of a door and jumped, jerking her gaze to the doors that led to the balcony. The now-empty balcony, one door shut and, if that clicking sound was any indication, locked.
But there was still one open. She just had to break his grasp and get through it.
She pulled hard, but Mr. Stevens only jerked her toward him.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“This, Ms. Jimenez, is business. Now, I suggest you stop trying to put up a fight. I’d hate to bruise that pretty face of yours, and I’d hate to have to get my son involved. Bennet’s an excellent policeman, but we both know he’d put himself in harm’s way before he let you be put in it.”
