by Jane Godman
“Damn it, Vincente. I’m not a kid checking in with my big brother while our folks are away.”
Vincente shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”
“It’s not a bad idea.” Even as she uttered them, Steffi could hardly believe the words were coming from her lips. “If we don’t check in, Vincente will know there is a reason, probably a Walter Sullivan–related reason. That would be a good time to hand this over to him, let him take it to the police.”
For a moment Bryce regarded his brother from under lowered brows. Steffi got the feeling this was nothing to do with her, or the current situation. It seemed to be a brotherly power struggle that transcended time or place. Bryce’s stormy brown eyes met Vincente’s darker ones. Gradually, the heat diffused and something else replaced it. It was hard to say that Vincente won. It was more that an understanding was reached, a balance achieved. Steffi got a strong sense that these men had battled their way to this point, but that they had built a relationship based on bonds of mutual trust.
Ah, that word. Trust. It was taunting her lately, dancing around just out of her reach. It was a thing other people had—fought hard for, in the case of these two men—but it continued to remain stubbornly elusive in Steffi’s life.
Bryce nodded curtly. “You got it. And Steffi won’t be at risk. Not while she has me with her.”
He gripped her hand again, and this time she didn’t pull away. She gave it a fleeting thought and then decided she liked it. Liked the feeling of his warm, slightly calloused fingers wrapped around hers. Liked the feeling of subdued strength she got from him, as if he could apply more pressure, but he was treating her gently because he was stronger than she was. Liked handing herself over, just this once, into his power.
Vincente looked down at their entwined fingers and smiled. Steffi thought what a charming man Vincente could be...when he wanted to. It was something she had thought when he first gave her the job at Delaney Transportation. Vincente could turn his charm on and off at will. It was a skill in itself. Just occasionally, when he thought no one was looking and the charm wasn’t needed, there was a haunted look in those midnight-dark eyes that hinted at a hidden sadness.
“You’d better give me a list of what you need...starting with how we patch up your injuries.”
Chapter 8
Catching a glimpse of their side-by-side reflections in a smoked glass window as they exited the bus station, Bryce was satisfied with what he saw. A woolen beanie completely covered Steffi’s hair and a huge pair of shades hid the upper part of her face. Vincente had followed his instructions to perfection, and her dark, androgynous clothing, coupled with a pair of biker boots, meant she could easily be mistaken for a youth. Bryce bit back a smile as he observed her. She had even adopted a slightly moody swagger to go along with this new persona. It was partly to disguise the limp that lingered from her ankle injury and partly because, as an actress, she had automatically slipped into this new role. It was only on close inspection that her delicate features and slender curves gave her away.
He was dressed in a similar, grungy style, with two days’ worth of stubble adding to the effect. They both carried beaten-up backpacks, unearthed from Vincente’s garage and containing a few changes of clothing.
Getting into Bryce’s house to get his credit cards and clothes hadn’t been a problem. When Vincente returned to his apartment with these items, they had discussed the problem of getting into Steffi’s cabin.
“Walter will have someone watching it,” Bryce had said with grim certainty. “There is no way you will be able to get in there to get Steffi’s things.”
“I don’t keep my personal stuff at the cabin.” There had been a spark of triumph in Steffi’s eyes as she spoke. “My driver’s license, passport and credit cards are in my locker at Delaney Transportation. I had nowhere in the cabin to lock them away, so I always felt they were safer there if I was recognized and needed to make a quick getaway.”
From then on, Vincente had moved fast, buying Steffi the items of clothing she needed, getting Bryce a new cell phone and booking their bus tickets, hotel room and a rental car.
“It feels strange being here in San Diego when my house and Greg’s apartment are both in Los Angeles,” Steffi said now. She kept her voice low and made sure there was no one around as she made the comment.
“We need to stay one step ahead of Walter.” That was one of the reasons why they had traveled by bus instead of flying. The other was the more obvious threat; the police would be on the lookout for Steffi’s identification, and the scrutiny would be more intense, at an airport. “I have a feeling he will have a welcome party waiting for us in Los Angeles. Driving into town will make it easier to stay under his radar.”
Steffi shivered and moved a little closer to him. It wasn’t much, but the gesture made Bryce’s heart soar. There had been a few such moments over the past twenty-four hours, tiny movements on Steffi’s part that made him feel like a man who had gained the precious trust of a wild bird. It was a fragile bond, and one he wanted to nurture. He wasn’t sure why this woman was different. He just knew she was. Maybe it was this crazy mess they were in. He hoped it had nothing to do with who she was in her day job. He gave a wry smile at the image of himself as a starstruck fan. Maybe it was because he wanted her more than any woman he’d ever met. Whatever it was, he wanted to take it slow, savor it, see if it was still around when they came out the other side of this madness. If they came out the other side of this madness. Right now he should probably focus on that instead of thinking about grabbing her and kissing her into near oblivion every time she brushed up against him accidentally.
There had been a turning point when they had stayed in Vincente’s apartment and his brother had made an assumption about their relationship. Having cleaned up Bryce’s various cuts and bruises, Vincente had checked out Steffi’s injured ankle. Although it was swollen and painful, there didn’t seem to be any broken bones. Vincente had expressed his opinion that it was a sprain and had bandaged it. By that time, his visitors were tired and he had thrown open the door of the second bedroom in his apartment.
“I hope this is okay?”
Steffi, having viewed the king-size bed in silence for a second, had raised her eyes to Bryce’s face. He had read the conflicting emotions that were darting across her expressive features. There was apprehension and anticipation, but there was also a definite spark of arousal. He wanted to see that flame in Steffi’s eyes. More than anything. He just didn’t want it forced on her because the sleeping arrangements dictated it.
Before she could say anything, Bryce had spoken up quickly. “I’ll take the sofa.”
Her expression had changed to one of gratitude. Had he also caught a brief flicker of disappointment alongside it? Your reputation as the Stillwater stud is going to your head, Delaney. What the hell do you have to offer Anya Moretti, darling of the paparazzi, queen of Hollywood awards ceremonies? Somehow he didn’t imagine a steak and a beer at Dino’s, his favorite restaurant on Main Street, would compare to the fancy places she was used to. Hadn’t he read somewhere that she was super-picky about the men she dated? Why was he even picturing this as if there was anything in their future? Hollywood actress and truck company boss? Like that would happen.
As Bryce organized the paperwork for the hired car and they made their way across the vast parking lot in the shimmering midday heat to collect the vehicle, he realized they would need to have the whole who-sleeps-where conversation again once they reached Los Angeles. They were booked into one hotel room. No way was he accepting a different arrangement. Until that cell phone with its incriminating recording was in the hands of the police and Walter Sullivan was behind bars, he wasn’t letting Steffi out of his sight.
He sighed. It didn’t need a clairvoyant to predict there was likely to be more sleeping on the sofa in his immediate future.
* * *<
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“Lighter or darker?”
Steffi barely registered Bryce’s words as he stood behind her, meeting her eyes in the mirror over the bathroom sink. His hands rested gently on her shoulders and although the gesture was casual, she had recently discovered that any physical contact with Bryce had the power to drive the breath from her lungs and rob her of the ability to think straight. The intimacy of this situation, with him standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body radiating through her own, was making her feel ever so slightly giddy. Every other thought was a new fantasy, each one just a little bit wilder, a little more daring and a whole lot of what she desperately needed. Right now she was picturing turning to face him, lifting herself onto that sink, and wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist...
Those chocolate-brown eyes seemed to be reading her thoughts. Heat and color flooded her face. “Uh... I don’t...”
Bryce quirked an amused brow at her. “I’m not promising to deliver red carpet standard styling here, Steffi. The best we can hope for is to make you look radically different. So what’s it to be?” He nodded at the two boxes of hair dye on the counter next to the sink. “Black or blond?”
Focus. This is about keeping you alive, not about how much you want to rip this man’s clothes off. “Black.”
Her eyes widened as he lifted his hand to reveal a pair of scissors. “Just remember, it will grow again.”
Steffi gave a little moan as she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s already short.”
Bryce shook his head. “That might make a die-hard fan think twice if they pass you on the street. It might even stop the police from recognizing you. But Walter and his thugs saw you two days ago. I want to make you look as different as I can from the person they remember.”
She sighed. “Do your worst.”
He pretended to be hurt. “I’m going to do my best.”
She closed her eyes, deciding the only way to get through this was to let Bryce get on with his task but to not look at the detail of what he was actually doing. His big hands felt capable and warm on her head and neck as he chopped at her hair, turning and tilting to get a better angle. When he had finished with the scissors, he stroked a hand over her head and Steffi shivered. She was fairly sure he was checking for loose hairs, but the gesture felt a lot like a caress.
Next came the sensation of the cold dye being massaged into her hair. Bryce moved closer, arching his body over hers, and Steffi bowed lower over the sink to make it easier for him. The intimacy of the position wasn’t lost on her. His muscular chest was pressed against her back. The fronts of his thighs pushed into the backs of hers, forcing her up against the sink. She could tell Bryce was aware of it, too. Very aware. The hard ridge of his erection rammed into the soft roundness of her buttocks, making her long to remove the layers of cloth between them. Making her ache to push back against him. To grind her hips. To wriggle. Anything to relieve the building tension.
“We have to leave that for twenty minutes.” Bryce’s voice was husky when he finally finished applying the dye.
Steffi turned slowly. He held up hands that were encased in plastic gloves and covered in the same black gunk that coated her head. Those glorious brown eyes were alight with the same fire that invaded her limbs. Without hesitation she rose on the tips of her toes and pressed her mouth to his. He responded instantly, his tongue parting the curve of her lips and tangling with hers. The heat that had been dancing on the surface between them for days pounded deeper, invading her blood and spreading like wildfire through her veins.
“You had to do this now?” Bryce raised his head, laughter and frustration in his eyes. “When I can’t touch you?”
“Twenty minutes isn’t so very long to wait,” she murmured, brushing her lips back over his again. His mouth was warm and masterful as his tongue licked and tasted hers, building the desire between them to a peak. Kissing Bryce was like being in the center of a furnace; molten heat washed over her, drawing her in, filling her and searing her.
“Long enough to kill me.” His voice was shaky as he looked down at her.
“Anyway—” she reached for his belt buckle, enjoying the flare of surprised pleasure in his eyes “—for the next twenty minutes, I can touch you.”
Moving lower, she dropped to her knees on the tile floor as she slid his zipper down, pushing his jeans and briefs over his hips. Bryce gave a groan as her hand closed over him. She ran her fingers up and down his shaft, exulting in the feel of him. Silk-encased steel throbbed hot and hard beneath her touch.
Leaning closer, she flicked her tongue lightly over his tip, and his whole body jerked wildly in response. Electricity zinged through her own body at the same time. Parting her lips, she closed them over him, taking him fully into her mouth. As she began to suck his iron hardness, she moaned around him. The erotic anticipation that had been building within her broke free, out of control, flooding her body with its urgent demands. Excitement and hunger filled her in equal measures. Desire built and spiraled, leaving her quivering and aching for his touch.
Lost in the pleasure of what she was doing, she dimly heard Bryce’s groans of approval, felt his hips moving in time with the rhythm of her movements as she rubbed her tongue along the underside of his erection.
“Hell, yes. Just like that.”
She gazed up at him through half-closed eyes. He was watching her mouth, watching as he slid in and out between her lips. His expression was a mix of such perfect concentration and pleasure that a matching emotion pulsed through Steffi’s own veins. The effect was like a shot of pure lust straight to her core.
As he began to throb and tighten, Steffi increased the pace of her movements. Bryce gave a single harsh cry as he climaxed, and she relaxed her mouth, swallowing the heated taste of him.
As she moved to sit back on her heels, easing his clothing back into place, his indrawn breath told her he was struggling to find the right words.
“Steffi, I...”
“Shh.” She didn’t want this to get awkward. They had enough problems without making this out-of-control attraction between them into one of them. “I think our twenty minutes are up and I don’t want my hair to fall out.”
He muttered a curse, indicating his hands. “Can you turn on the faucet?”
She got to her feet and busied herself with preparations for removing the dye while trying to ignore the lingering heat in her body. As Bryce leaned over to begin washing her hair, his lips brushed her ear, sending a frenzied shiver down her spine. “Just so you know, we are not done. I owe you an orgasm.” His teeth nipped the lobe, making her gasp. “And I intend to deliver...with interest.”
The words were so delicious that Steffi couldn’t help the little moan that escaped her. It wasn’t going to happen, of course. Bryce couldn’t know that she had never been able to relinquish control sufficiently to climax. And she certainly wasn’t going to tell him. She would just have to rely on her acting ability. It had never let her down before.
* * *
Just as he had planned, Steffi looked different. Different in a way that Bryce wasn’t sure was an improvement, but one that continued to arouse the hell out of him. Or maybe it was the lingering memory of what had happened in the bathroom that was responsible for his permanent hard-on. All he knew was he would never look at a packet of hair dye in the same way again.
He had cut her hair so short it stood up on top of her head in spikes. Now a blue-black color, it accentuated the creamy pallor of her skin and the sharp delicacy of her features. When she wasn’t wearing her glasses, her eyes appeared huge, dominating her face.
“I look like a pixie,” she grumbled. “Or some other creature of the woodland variety.”
They had agreed to wait until nightfall before they started their search for the cell phone at her house in Beverly Hills. Bryce had a feeling
it was going to be a pointless undertaking, if they managed to get into the house at all...and, given that she was wanted for murder, there were no guarantees that they would. In the immediate aftermath of the murders, the police would have been all over Steffi’s place. If Greg had hidden the cell phone in her house, or mailed it to Steffi in the days before he was killed, and it had turned up at her house after his death, Bryce would have expected the police to have it by now. Clearly, since Walter was still at large, that wasn’t the case.
If Greg had hidden it somewhere in the house without telling Steffi where it was, their chances of finding it were slim to nonexistent. Always supposing it was still there. Walter’s guys had probably gotten in there and searched the house from top to bottom. If they hadn’t found the phone, it wasn’t there. The same went for Greg’s apartment, where they were planning to go next. Even though Bryce thought searching both places was probably a waste of their time, he also thought not doing it would feel like unfinished business. And it would make Steffi feel better that they were making an effort to find the phone.
Although, speaking of unfinished business...
He reached out a hand and caught Steffi by the wrist, pulling her to him. Her eyes widened and the breath left her lungs with a little huffing sound as he gripped her hips hard. “I owe you, remember?”
Those unusual eyes darkened to a deeper shade of gold as he bent his head and lightly kissed the curve of her neck. The scent of her perfume flared in his nostrils. It was light, summery and sexy, spiking his need for her up to superhuman proportions.
“You started this—” his voice was hoarse with longing “—and I’m going to finish it. But you’d better be sure you want to see this through, Steffi. If you don’t, now would be a good time to tell me no.”
She tilted her head back, staring at him with a faint look of defiance on her face. When she didn’t speak, he swung her around, so she was facing the wall. Lifting her hands above her head and holding them at the wrists with one of his own hands, he used his taller, harder body to keep her in place.
