by Lori Foster
Spencer caught her wrist. And of course, that got her going.
Quick temper and a boulder-size chip on her shoulder had her swinging a fist. He dodged it, but she kicked and caught him in the shin. Luckily she didn’t wear shoes, so it didn’t hurt.
Much.
In the ensuing scuffle, his coffee cup hit the floor and broke.
Given they were both barefoot, he did the expedient thing and tossed her over his shoulder. Clamping a hand over her thighs, he warned, “Bite me, and I swear to God, you won’t like the consequences.”
Rather than struggle, she braced her elbows on his back. “You’ve threatened me before.”
“Because you’ve attacked me before.” Stepping over and around the mess on his floor, he went into the hallway, then figured, what the hell, and went on into the living room.
He dumped her on the couch.
She bounded right back off again.
Another scuffle, and damn it, it was too early and he was too tired to put up with it.
“Arizona!” He locked her in close in a now familiar hold—at least with her—keeping her back to his chest, her arms pinned down. He squeezed her tight enough to steal her breath. “Knock it off already, will you?”
Her head dropped back against his chest so she could glare at him. He waited, refusing to relent, driven by…God knew what.
She gave one sharp nod.
Spencer opened his arms but quickly stepped out of her reach. “Okay?”
“Screw you.”
So much animosity, so much rage at the world. She’d never admit it, but Arizona needed a friend, a confidante, and if it put him through hell, well, so what? He’d been in hell for a while now. “You came to me, remember?”
“And now I’m trying to leave!”
His head pounded. If she walked out now, he’d spend the rest of the day worrying about her.
Or following her.
He worked his jaw, then said, “I’ll keep your secret. What is it?”
“Oh, aren’t you the generous one?”
He sighed. “The sneer is unappealing. Just tell me what it is.”
The narrowing of her eyes emphasized their pale, bright blue color and the thickness of her long, inky lashes. She drew two deep breaths, making it tough for him to keep his attention off her chest.
“It’s my birthday.”
Huh. Of all the things he’d imagined, that wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t even one of the top fifty. “Your birthday?” he said stupidly.
“Yeah, you know, the day I was born. Not under a rock, in case you’re wondering.” When he stayed mute, she added, “I’m twenty-one now. A legal adult. Not a little girl, like you keep saying.”
Arizona didn’t have family. She had a friend, Jackson, the man who had rescued her from death. She had Jackson’s soon-to-be-wife, Alani. She had their family and friends.
But none of her own.
He shook his head. “That’s it?” That’s why she’d broken into his house? Why she’d sat on the chair and watched him sleep?
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, what’d you expect? A confession of murder?”
“I don’t know.” With her, he could take nothing for granted. Why didn’t she want anyone to know about her birthday? His rubbed his bristly jaw, studied her, but came up short of reason or even clear thought. He dropped his hand. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”
They stood there staring at each other, and it would have been odd, but everything with Arizona was odd.
Especially the multitude of ways she affected him, the emotions she wrought and the needs she ignited.
As if her bizarre overreaction hadn’t happened, she dropped back to sit on the couch. “I almost didn’t remember. I mean, it’s been a really long time since anyone made note of it. And even then, it was usually just my mom saying happy birthday to me. No biggie.” She gave a crooked smile. “We weren’t a cake and candles type of family.”
So she’d never gotten a birthday gift? No one celebrated her life?
“It’s not a big deal or anything. But I guess with you always accusing me of being young—”
“You are young. It’s not an accusation, it’s a fact.” One he desperately needed to remember.
“But now I’m legal.”
Meaning…what? At thirty-two, he was only eleven years older than her, but he felt twice her age. He massaged a kink in the back of his neck. Did she expect a gift? A night out? Jesus, he didn’t know. “So…we could go get a cake.” Or something.
Her small smile spread into a mocking grin. “Don’t be an ass. I don’t want or need anything like that. I’m just saying, no more calling me little girl.”
At a loss, Spencer joined her on the couch. Instead of lounging back, he half turned toward her. “Why are you keeping it secret?”
She snorted. “You met Jackson. You know he’d make a big deal of it or something, and I don’t want that.” Half under her breath, she muttered, “I’m enough of a burden already.”
“I don’t think he’d agree with that.” Jackson treated her like a kid sister, and he’d probably want to do whatever he could to commemorate the day, to somehow make it special for her—to make up for a past so dark, so depressing, that no young lady should have suffered through it.
“Yeah.” She smoothed a hand over the corduroy of his couch. “Maybe not. But it’s still true.”
Since she didn’t want him to, he wouldn’t say anything, but he didn’t like it. “You shouldn’t keep stuff from him. He cares about you.”
“I know.” She crossed her arms over her middle. “But he’s got his hands full. Remember, he’s planning a wedding.”
Was she jealous of Alani? From what he’d seen, Arizona looked at Jackson with her heart in her eyes. He was the only person she had, so he meant a lot to her. “More like his fiancée is planning it.”
“Alani is preggers, remember?”
“I had heard.” He also knew the pregnancy was a happy surprise, and in no way had forced their decision to marry. “Does it bother you?”
“Of course not,” she insisted. “But with all that going on, he doesn’t need to be messing with me.”
Dinner out, a small gift, cake and hugs…did she consider that too much fuss? “I think Jackson can handle it.”
“Besides,” she added, speaking over him, “I have a new identity, remember? No going back and especially no celebrating give-away dates like birthdays.”
In an effort to help her, Jackson had covered her background, buried the past for her as much as he could, and for her safety, he’d given her a whole new identity, including a new name. It was a way to start over, to start fresh.
But none of that would help Arizona heal from the past.
Uncomfortable with the moment, Spencer floundered, trying to find something to say. He hadn’t known her that long, and their acquaintance had been fraught with danger. As a bounty hunter, he’d been tracking criminal psychopaths—and the psychopaths had been tracking her.
Arizona, being outrageous in every way a person could imagine, had used herself as bait. Along the way, Spencer had met Jackson and learned a little about their history.
They presented their relationship as that of friends, or maybe siblings. But the nuances of their connection made anything that simple impossible. Not with Arizona’s looks and not when Jackson had saved her life.
Not when she’d once been held captive by human traffickers who, after using her, had tried to kill her as punishment for running away.
Her death would have been a lesson to remaining trapped victims. Instead, the bastards had died—and good riddance.
Luckily—at least for Spencer’s peace of mind—Jackson was a
lready in love with Alani, so his interest in Arizona wasn’t romantic in any way. But for Arizona? He just didn’t know.
Jackson was a good man. A protector.
And right now, Spencer felt like a destroyer of evil. Nothing protective in that.
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Arizona slugged him in the shoulder. “What the hell is wrong with you? No one died. Lose the sad face, will you?”
He’d try. “So why are you here?” Remembering how she’d gotten in, he turned to look at the door. “You didn’t damage my lock, did you?”
“Your lock is fine—shitty, but fine.” She propped her feet on the table in front of the couch. “I’m good at picking locks.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
She stared down the length of her legs and wiggled her toes. Nonchalantly, she said, “I need some help.”
Apprehension shot through him. “With what?” Had she gotten herself into trouble somehow? Was someone after her again?
“Promise me that you won’t tell Jackson about this, either, and then I’ll tell you.”
Fearful for her, he said, “Sure, whatever. I won’t tell Jackson.”
“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed. “That was a mighty quick agreement.”
“But sincere.” At the moment, his biggest concern was her safety. “Spill it.”
“All right.” She went back to rubbing the corduroy, and it was such a sensual thing, her hand moving slowly over the material, that Spencer felt mesmerized. “There’s this restaurant. Well, it’s actually a sleazy bar, but they do serve food during the day, too.”
From any other woman, those words wouldn’t cause much reaction. From Arizona, they boded a looming catastrophe. “What bar? Where?”
“Don’t look like that,” she complained. “Until I know you’re on board, I’m not giving you details. Let’s just say I suspect they’re part of a large-scale trafficking ring and maybe using forced labor. I want to look into it. But I’m not dumb. I know I need some backup.”
Dear God, Jackson looked into large-scale trafficking rings—not Arizona! And he didn’t work alone—he worked with other men who were equally skilled.
They backed each other up—and they’d given Arizona computer duties in an effort to involve her, while keeping her away from the more dangerous action. She should have been doing no more than researching backgrounds on small-scale, local-level traffickers.
Research only.
“I was thinking I could be bait again. You know, put myself out there and see what happens. With you keeping watch, it’d be safe enough, right? If they try to grab me, then we—”
“No.” His temper shot into overdrive, on a par with his alarm. He said again, with more force, “No.”
Unmoved, Arizona met his angry gaze—and shrugged. “Fine. I thought you might want to team up, but I can figure it out on my own.” She started to leave the couch.
He again caught her arm.
Slim, warm and so soft…
As she stared at him, her blue eyes lit from a very short fuse. “I’d suggest you stop trying to manhandle me.”
Hearing the deadly tone in her voice, Spencer opened his fingers. “Give me a second to think, will you?”
“Huh.” At her leisure, she dropped back again. “So ‘no’ with you isn’t necessarily no? It might mean something else? It could mean that you just want time to think?”
She was making mincemeat out of him. He had to take control. “I don’t want you anywhere near anything dangerous, especially by yourself.”
“Yeah, but see, you aren’t my daddy, aren’t my boyfriend, and you sure as hell aren’t anything in-between. So if you don’t want to help, then it’s none of your damn business.”
What did she consider in-between? “I want to make a bet with you.”
Her interest perked up. “You do? About what?”
Already knowing it wouldn’t go over well, Spencer braced himself. “I bet you can’t go a month without cursing.”
Her chin tucked in, and her brows came down. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He had no idea, except that it annoyed him to hear her be so coarse. “Go a month without cursing.” He hated himself, but he said, “Every time you slip, you owe me a kiss.”
Icy stillness fell over her. Silence pulsed in the room.
Tension gathered like storm clouds.
Pulling the tiger’s tail, he asked, “Well?”
Eyes glittering, Arizona slowly pushed to her feet. “Fuck you,” she whispered.
He could see a pulse tripping in her slim throat.
He could see the fear she tried so hard to hide.
“I suggested a kiss, Arizona. Nothing more. And despite what you said, ‘no’ does mean ‘no’ to me. You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not!”
“You don’t have to expect the worst, either.” He didn’t move from his position on the couch, but with their gazes locked, it felt as if he touched her all the same.
It disturbed him—so what would it do to her?
“I would never hurt you,” he promised. “I’d do my best to protect you from anyone who would.”
“I don’t need you to protect me.” Her eyes turned glassy, a little wet. “I can protect myself.”
Not too long ago, she hadn’t protected herself at all. And no one else had, either.
“You find kissing so repulsive?”
She shook her head but said, “I don’t know.” Then she added, “I haven’t done much…kissing.”
“No?”
Her teeth clenched; she spoke through stiff lips. “A guy who’s paying for his time doesn’t want to waste it on that.” In defiance, she added, “Thank God.”
Her words felt like a kick in the guts. “Arizona—”
“They saw me as unclean.” Her chin jutted forward. “And I’m glad!”
Had she ever been given a sincere, caring, affectionate kiss? He just didn’t know. But they had to start somewhere, or she’d never be free of her past.
He sat forward. “Given your expression, the idea of kissing me would be insufferable, so I’m guessing it should be incentive enough to clean up your language. Right?”
She took a step back, then another. Arms loose, bare feet braced apart, she prepared to fight.
After everything that had happened to him in the past three years, his heart should have been encased in ice. Until Arizona, it had been.
Now, around her, everything felt as raw as a fresh, hot wound.
“You trust me,” he pointed out.
She shook her head. “I don’t trust anyone.”
Slowly he stood and took a step toward her. “Yes, you do. You don’t want to, and I understand that. I really do. But that’s no way to live and you know it.”
Shaking her head again, she whispered, “No.” Then louder, “No!”
He stopped. “Why did you break into my house to tell me it’s your birthday? If you don’t trust me, why did you leave my gun and knife on the nightstand? If you’re afraid of me, why are you here, asking me to partner up with you?”
She breathed harder.
As a warning, her small hand bunched into a fist. He didn’t care. If she slugged him, maybe that’d finally make him see reason.
Maybe he’d finally be able to stop thinking about her.
“Damn you,” she growled.
And his doorbell rang.
CHAPTER TWO
ARIZONA WATCHED AS CALM settled over Spencer’s features. Oh, chaotic emotion had been there seconds before. She knew it. But now, he looked as collected as a college professor.
“Excuse me,” he said with absurd formality, and turned to
head for the front door.
The second his back was turned, she let out a pent-up breath and felt her knees weaken.
Why did he rattle her so much? Fear? Yeah, around him she felt it in spades. But it wasn’t a normal kind of fear.
It wasn’t anything familiar.
She’d lived with fear most of her life, first from her father and his cohorts, then from the awful traffickers and the swine who came to them for women. And then…from the idea of being alone, unable to help others.
Useless.
From where she stood, the open door blocked her view of his visitor, but she didn’t need a visual, not with the husky female voice now crooning, “Spencer, I’m so glad you’re home.”
Arizona’s spine went rigid.
Strength surged back into her legs.
So did petty animosity.
She strained her ears but heard nothing, and she suspected the woman was kissing Spencer.
“Sorry, doll,” Spencer finally said low, “but it’s not a good time.”
Doll? Not a good time for what? Curiosity, and a few more unpleasant emotions, nudged Arizona closer.
“But it’s been forever,” purred the female, “and you promised me—”
“I don’t make promises.”
“I know.” An exaggerated sigh. “That’s not what I meant. But…” Silly female cajoling. “God, Spencer, I need you.” Slim, pale hands came up and around Spencer’s neck and drew him down.
This time she had no doubts at all about the silence. They were making out in his doorway, right there for God and the rest of the world to see.
Peeved, Arizona took a few quicker steps forward, and witnessed a pretty blonde delivering a scorching kiss. They both had their eyes closed. They fit together. And she saw a flash of tongue.
Fury narrowed her eyes.
Spencer knew she was waiting on him, but he didn’t exactly fight off Blondie’s attentions.
With one hand at her waist and the other keeping the door held open—probably to try to block Arizona from seeing—Spencer let the brazen broad kiss him.
Crossing her arms and propping her shoulder against the wall, Arizona asked, “Can I get an estimate on how long this is going to take?”
