The Business of Strangers

by Kylie Brant

“I disagree. Meet me at the restaurant in two hours. I’ll make sure we have some privacy.”

  “No.” The word was easy enough to say. She just wished she’d said it sooner. If she could time travel back to before she’d ever met him she’d have done things much differently. She’d have selected a different restaurant to eat in that night. Or once meeting him, she’d have tucked away sensitized hormones and gotten in her car, to drive home alone.

  She wouldn’t have had mind-shattering sex with a relative stranger. Wouldn’t have assumed that life would conveniently keep their paths from ever crossing again.

  She should have remembered that her life had rarely been convenient.

  “Two hours, Ria.” The certainty in his tone set her teeth on edge. “You can’t afford to brush me off. This is too important.”

  “I can’t think of anything you have to say that I’d consider important.”

  “Really?” His voice had gone silky, a tip-off, she’d learned, of his rising temper. “Have you talked to Larry Stanton lately? No? You won’t, either. Because someone killed him this afternoon. And I’d be willing to bet that you’re the reason he’s dead.”

  Ria’s own temper was simmering at a dangerous level by the time she entered Hoochees. The hostess she recognized from her previous visit seemed to remember her, or at least had been given her description. At her entrance the brunette sent her a bright smile and led her to a private corner in the dining area, next to the windows overlooking the river. It was hard to gaze at that view and not remember the same sight from Jake’s windows in the apartment above.

  The memory just fired her temper hotter.

  “Mr. Tarrance will be right with you,” the hostess promised. Even as she walked away, a waitress, one Ria didn’t recognize, hurried over with a bottle of Chivas Regal and two glasses. Setting one down in front of her, she began to pour, before Ria reached out to stop her with a hand to her arm.

  “None for me, thanks. I won’t be staying long.”

  The woman continued filling both glasses. “Mr. Tarrance’s request, ma’am.”

  Ria’s lips twisted. The man was clearly used to issuing orders and having them obeyed. Problem was, she wasn’t used to following them. It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go to hell, but the news about Stanton had taken her off guard. He’d hung up, assuming she’d come as he’d commanded, and it still burned that she’d done exactly that. But a call to Warden Udall had confirmed Jake’s news. Like it or not, Tarrance might be able to supply some details that the warden had been lacking.

  It hadn’t escaped her notice that the rest of the tables in their section were empty. She was certain that, too, had been Jake’s directive. They would be alone here, lending an unwanted air of intimacy to the scene. She couldn’t fault him for the decision, however. Their conversation needed to be conducted in private.

  There was a tingle of awareness at the base of her nape. She guessed the cause intuitively. Involuntarily, she turned to watch him cross the room toward her, all the while damning the slow heat flooding her system.

  So she couldn’t control her body’s response to him. That didn’t mean she’d act on it again. She couldn’t afford to. She hadn’t been out of Fenton County five minutes before she’d realized she’d picked up a tail. It had alarmed her until she recognized the clumsiness of the driver’s skill. She’d assumed that if it was the person who wanted her dead, he’d have a little more finesse.

  Figuring out that it was Ralston, however, had merely stoked her irritation higher. The man was going to be a nuisance, and she could ill afford any extra scrutiny right now. She’d managed to lose him with minimal effort, which didn’t cause him to rise in her estimation.

  “Ria.” There was genuine pleasure in Jake’s voice.

  Steeling herself against it, against him, she said, “I talked to Udall. He said the autopsy report wouldn’t be finished for a few days, but they believe Stanton’s noontime meal was poisoned.”

  There was a subtle hardening of his expression before he smoothed it and sat down. He chose the chair next to hers rather than opposite, and her pulse leaped. A woman would have to be dead not to respond to his magnetism. And although her existence had, for all intents and purposes, been erased, her femininity appeared alive and well. Under the circumstances, she didn’t find that reassuring.

  Tonight he wore black trousers and a black collarless dress shirt. There was elegance in the simplicity of the clothing, and she figured they probably cost more than all the garments in her closet put together. For him, crime seemed to be paying quite well.

  Because she’d refused to dress up for him, she’d changed from her uniform into jeans and a simple navy long-sleeved T. But if the look in his eyes was any indication, it wouldn’t have mattered what she’d worn. That focus was back, the smoldering intensity that made her feel as if everything around them had ceased to exist.

  He reached over with one finger to touch the cheek she’d taken the splinters from. She knew it was still red and angry looking. “You always seem to have a mark on you.”

  “Hazard of the job.” When he didn’t move away again, she shifted in her chair, placing a bit of distance between them. “Udall thinks—and I agree—that Alvarez masterminded the poisoning. There will be an investigation—”

  “You know as well as I do that nothing will come of it.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in Jake’s tone. Any hint of tenderness must have been her imagination. Those pale eyes were cool now, guarded.

  “Probably not.” It was notoriously difficult to get inmates to come forward with information. Prisons were primitive communities, with a basic set of rules for survival. “But someone might hope to trade what he knows for better treatment. A transfer closer to home. Something.” She leaned forward, a note of urgency entering her voice. “The fact is, you know as well as I do that Alvarez is the one who wanted him dead. And I resent you trying to lay Stanton’s death at my door.”

  She didn’t need anyone else on her conscience. She was haunted enough by Luz’s specter as it was.

  “I wasn’t blaming you. Or maybe I was, but I was angry.” He reached out for his glass, brought it to his lips and drank. “I have no doubt that his death was planned to make everyone else come to the same conclusion. There’s no way to prove it, one way or another. God knows, Alvarez had the motive, and he’s tried it before. But I don’t think masterminded this.”

  “Who else would it be?” she countered. Her glass was in her hand without her even thinking about it. Sipping from it, she continued, “Since you’ve cleared me, and apparently Alvarez, who does that leave?”

  “I’m guessing it was the guy who was in my office this afternoon.” His gaze caught hers over the top of the glass. “The man who hired me to kill you.”

  There was a kick in her chest, strong enough to drive the breath from her lungs. Her hand hesitated an instant in the act of setting the glass back on the table. Then she recovered, looked at him coolly. “Well, what’s the going price on a hit these days? Are we talking pocket change or real money?” Her lips twisted. “Call it ego, but I’d like to hear he made it worth your while. No one likes to know their life is worth the price of a couple tickets to Six Flags.”

  Jake stared at her for a moment. Could she really be that cold? From her reaction, one would think she had ice water running in her veins. But he had reason to know that her blood could, on occasion, run quite hot, indeed.

  “He offered me a hundred and fifty thousand.”

  Amazingly enough, a flash of amusement flickered across her face. “Come to think of it, I’m not certain which of us should be more insulted. Did it occur to you that you might have been lowballed because he’s underestimated you?”

  He sat back in his chair, considered her. “I’m counting on that. And you’re taking this amazingly well. Most potential hits could be forgiven for being a bit jumpier.”

  Her eyes chilled. And he was abruptly reminded that she was as adept at donning
masks as he was. “You can try, Tarrance.” Her voice was a taunt, a dare. “Do your worst. But the first two men who came for me are dead. And the one who attempted a couple nights ago will be, too, when I catch up with him.” She shrugged, picked up her glass again with a steady hand. “You might want to consider that before taking his money.”

  The first two who had come for her? Ready to follow up on her former statement, he had to take a moment to comprehend the latter one. “What happened a couple nights ago?”

  She tossed back the contents of her glass and reached for the bottle. “A sniper was waiting for me when I got home. Under the circumstances, I’m sure you won’t be offended if I ask where you were at the time.”

  Ridiculous, given what he’d just told her, to feel an odd pang at the accusation couched in her words. Ridiculous and unacceptable. Jake Tarrance didn’t feel anything for anybody. Life was less complicated that way.

  “Do you have any leads on the shooter?” At her mocking stare, he sat back. “Okay, I can see where there might be a noticeable lack of trust here. But let’s try to connect the dots, shall we? You go to see Larry Stanton—whose death, by the way, seriously inconveniences me—and days later he’s dead. And even before his death you’re shot at. Professional job?”

  “It would have been a perfect head shot from two hundred meters if I hadn’t ducked back into the car for something that I forgot.”

  His stomach knotted. Two hundred meters was nothing for a sniper. Good ones could shoot accurately from five times the distance. And given the events of the last few days, there was no reason to believe this had been anything less than a professional attempt.

  “And two days later, I’m contacted by someone who badly wants you dead.” His eyes met hers. “Even though we both agree he didn’t offer nearly enough for the job. You started something in motion the day you went to see Larry Stanton. Given what I have riding on this thing, I want to know what your business with him was.”

  “It was exactly that. My business.”

  He shoved his face closer to hers. “It ceased being merely your business about the time my prime informant bit the dust. Right around the time a stranger waltzed into my office, throwing around threats and petty cash. I’d say that as of right now, it’s our business.”

  Her expression grew cautious. “He threatened you?”

  “Claimed he could arrange an early release for Alvarez. Naturally, I’d find that an inconvenience, too.”

  She gave a bitter smile. “Such a shame you’re being inconvenienced by all this. Why don’t you just give me his name and a description, and I’ll take it from here.”

  She was good. A vague sense of admiration filled him. She’d been hit with more in the last few minutes than most people could withstand, and still continued to try and bluff her way through. “Sure. The name he gave me was Colton, but it’s doubtful that’s genuine. No ID, and his description is remarkably unremarkable.” Jake paused, waited for comprehension to flicker across her face. “He’s the type of guy that even when you describe him, he doesn’t stand out. And I’m fairly certain he can do everything he claimed. When I had him followed he was passed through the airport without clearing security. And that’s all I’m telling you without some answers on your part.”

  “You actually think I’m going to give answers to someone who just told me he’s been hired to kill me? You’re deluded.”

  From the mutinous expression on her face, it was clear she was still feeling obstinate. “Larry told me you came to see him about a tattoo he’d done years ago.”

  Her shrug was casual. “So?”

  “So when he described it I remembered seeing it before.” He tipped more Scotch into his glass. “On your ankle. If memory serves correctly, it was the only thing you were wearing at the time.”

  For the first time emotion flashed in her eyes. He felt a fierce sense of satisfaction. Good. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who still woke up with the sheets in a tangled heap, his insides tangled over a woman he never should have met. Never should have touched.

  And couldn’t stop thinking about.

  “What else did Larry tell you?”

  “He reported your entire conversation,” he said bluntly. “He knew better than to keep something like that from me. And damn his soul, when he mentioned someone else who would pay well for the information on you, I should have known that nothing would stop him from making that contact. Even his fear of me was outweighed by his love of money.”

  She looked as though she would benefit from another glass of Scotch. But when he nudged the bottle toward her, she made no move to pick it up. “Who could have gotten to him so quickly?”

  “It wasn’t quick at all. Sounded to me like he was approached several years ago and at your visit he figured he was finally going to hit the jackpot. So.” Jake sat back in his chair, rested an elbow on its back. “Time for answers, baby. Because this little drama all revolves around you. Start talking.”

  At her continued silence, frustration rose. “You can skip the part about the foster homes you grew up in.” He didn’t want to hear her relate her experiences there, at any point. It had been hard enough to contemplate what her life had been like as he pored over the details his information broker had gotten for him. “Your graduation from the Colorado Police Academy was impressive, though. High grades for marksmanship, wasn’t it? Very nice.”

  Her eyes had gone dark and dangerous, like those of a big jungle cat about to pounce.

  “And your career in the DPD was similarly impressive, I suppose, for a cop. All you need to tell me is where the tattoo fits into all this and why someone would kill you rather than have you asking questions about it.”

  “I must be missing something.” She cocked her head quizzically. “Tell me again why I would share anything with the man who’s been hired to kill me? Or wait. Maybe you’re going to try and convince me you didn’t accept the job.”

  “No, I accepted it.” He looked around, caught Marta’s eye. The waitress hurried toward them with menus. From the looks of things this was going to take awhile, and all of a sudden he was starving.

  He glanced back at Ria, enjoying the arrested expression on her face. “I bought us both a week by taking the job. So that’s what we’ve got. Seven days to figure out who wants you dead and why. Then you can go back to…being a cop.” His tone reflected his absolute amazement at the choice. “And I can go back my plans.” And of course he’d rather the scheme involving Alvarez had several weeks, rather than days, to become finalized.

  He accepted the menus, handed one to Ria and flipped his open. It was purely habit. He had the entrées memorized.

  She made no move toward hers. “As I said earlier, this is my business. I am sorry you got mixed up in it.” He didn’t detect a hint of sincerity in her words. “But I have no intention of trusting, or involving, you further.”

  He lifted a shoulder, as if it didn’t matter. “That’s up to you, of course. But I assumed you’d want to know the information I’ve acquired so far about Colton. I know where he lives, and in another twenty-four hours I’ll know his real name and place of work, as well.”

  Chapter 6

  Her fingers clenched the menu. Jake couldn’t tell if that was a sign of nerves or if Ria was suppressing the urge to throttle him.

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “Am I?” He lowered his eyes to his menu again. “Are you a seafood lover? We have the crab and lobster flown in fresh daily. I can recommend either.”

  “I have some money put away.” Her flat tone had his gaze rising, slowly. A dangerous burn ignited inside him. “Not much more than what this Colton offered you, but enough to pay for some simple information, I would think.”

  “You know, if I were a man to appreciate irony, it might amuse me that I find it so offensive to be offered bribes twice in one day. Considering how often I pay them myself, it’s a bit incongruous. But there it is.”

  “Look at it from my perspective.” Her fing
ers rubbed absently at the condensation on her glass. “I’m naturally reluctant to provide information to a man hired to kill me.”

  “You said there’d been others.” There was a flicker in her eyes before they went blank. Mentally, he damned that ability of hers. His information brokers hadn’t dug deep enough, long enough. Nothing in the file they’d put together for him hinted at what was going on in Ria Kingsley’s life. Whatever it was, it was deadly.

  And as of today, it involved him.

  He gestured to Marta, and she crossed to their table, taking her order pad from her apron pocket. “Have you decided what you want?” he asked. “Or shall I order for you?”

  Ria glared at him. “I’m not staying.”

  “Of course you are.” To the waitress he said, “I’ll have the New York strip, medium rare. Garlic mashed potatoes. No salad. She’ll have the Alaskan king crab legs….” He paused, shot her a glance. “Potato?”

  “I don’t want the crab legs.”

  “All right. Bring her the same thing I’m having.”

  “I’m not eating…” She was talking to the waitress’s back. Marta had already moved away, and would place the order exactly as he’d told her to. He expected no less. His people did what he asked, or they no longer worked for him.

  It was no use wishing that Ria could have just a shred of that same trait. She wasn’t a woman to be easily led. And that was one of the reasons he found her so damn enticing. He appreciated women with backbone—women who didn’t allow themselves to be victimized, and excuse the behavior in the name of love.

  Ria might not need rescuing, but from where he sat, the odds were stacked pretty high against her. She had to realize that, too, but if she did, not a hint of that knowledge showed. More than was comfortable, he wanted to know where that strength of hers came from.

  “Even given the unpopularity of cops in certain segments of society, having three assassins sent after you seems excessive.”

  She picked up her glass, toasted him with it. “Four,” she said pointedly. “Counting you. I don’t know why you’re surprised. You have enemies of your own.”