Irresistible Forces

by Catherine Ansaro et al

"I guess you could say that, with the emphasis on guard. Never gives me a moment's peace."

  "Who are you?"

  Raquel stared at Margo for several seconds. "I think you know."

  Margo shook her head. "No, I don't." She backed toward the door. This was insane. "You have Nick's eyes, and you know things Nick knew. But he's dead."

  Raquel nodded, and resignation filled her expression. "And he's going to stay that way."

  "Who are you?" Margo repeated, reaching behind her for the doorknob.

  "Séamus, let me be myself now." Raquel glanced toward the ceiling. "Please?"

  Margo needed air, and Raquel needed a good psychologist. "I'm going back to watch the show now," she said carefully, not wanting to upset Raquel. "How about you?"

  Raquel just stood there, staring at Margo, taunting her with her dead husband's eyes.

  "Are you Nick's sister?" she finally asked, though she knew Nick didn't have any siblings.

  Raquel shook her head, her smile sad. "I'm—"

  The door behind Raquel burst open, admitting a gush of chilly evening air. The door obviously led to the parking lot. Men's hushed voices and lots of grunting and groaning followed. Raquel shoved Margo behind a stack of boxes.

  They waited while the men hauled several boxes into the room and piled them beside the door.

  "Boss says we can retire on what this shit'll bring," one man said. "I'm ready for that."

  The door Margo and Raquel had entered through opened, and two more men entered. "This all of it?" one man asked.

  "Yeah, boss."

  Margo's reporter antennae twitched. Was this the drug operation Jared was investigating? She peered around the edge of a box. Two of the men wore suits. They could have been doing a Laurel and Hardy imitation—one overweight, one tall and thin.

  All she had to do was keep quiet until they left, then she could give Jared at least a partial description. Maybe that would help his investigation.

  And then she would deal with Raquel—whoever she was.

  Margo swallowed the lump in her throat, remembering those eyes. Nick's eyes. How could it be?

  Something soft brushed against Margo's legs. She knew from its purring that it was only a cat, so she forced herself to relax. She'd always had a cat as a child, but with Nick's allergy, she hadn't had one since. Maybe she'd get a cat now.

  Raquel, less than a foot away from Margo, glanced down at the friendly furball.

  And sneezed.

  8

  Nick tried to toe the cat away from his shapely leg before he sneezed again, but when someone knocked away the box in front of him, he figured the cat was the least of his problems. The walking allergen scurried away, leaving the scene of his crime.

  The man knocked another box aside and made a grab for them, but Nick dodged him, grabbed Margo's hand, and dragged her out of their brief sanctuary and toward the door. "We were looking for the ladies' room. Wrong turn. Sorry."

  An iron grip stopped Raquel's hand just shy of the door knob. "Shit," Nick said.

  "That ain't very ladylike," the man taunted. He shoved Nick and Margo toward the center of the room. "Got us a couple of problems here, Boss."

  Henry Millman had been in Raquel's office just yesterday, and he had called earlier this afternoon. Raquel and Margo were in big trouble here, unless the lecherous old fart didn't recognize the attorney he'd tried unsuccessfully to proposition. Getting rid of Raquel's hair and makeup had been brilliant. Nick had turned down the retainer Millman had offered and what he'd called his "magic in bed." Weasel.

  Millman narrowed his already beady eyes and shoved the omnipresent, unlit cigar into the corner of his mouth. "Don't I know you?"

  Nick shrugged, but Millman took a step closer, jabbing his cigar toward Raquel for emphasis. "I've seen you somewhere before." He turned his attention to the two men who'd hauled in the boxes. "Tie 'em up for now. After the place closes, take care of the problem."

  Nick was supposed to be here to help Margo—not get her killed. What a mess he'd made of things. Again.

  "Waitaminute here," he said, desperate. "All we did was get lost on our way to the bathroom. Is that a crime around here?"

  A tall, skinny guy stepped into the light. Nick recognized him immediately. He'd always suspected Charlie Fritz was on the take, and now he knew. He'd had more than a few run-ins with the guy in court as Nick—never as Raquel. At least that was some consolation.

  Séamus, get us out of this.

  Nothing. Now that they were in really serious trouble, Nick's guardian had pulled a vanishing act. Just perfect.

  "Sly, you stay here and guard these two," Charlie said, eyeing Margo closely. "Reporter."

  Nick should've realized Margo might be familiar to these bastards, too. To her credit, she didn't utter a sound. Nick prayed for a miracle. He'd screwed up Margo's life once, and now he'd put her in danger.

  The one called Sly put two chairs back-to-back, and the others forced Margo and Nick into them. Sly wrapped a nylon rope around them both, securing it under the seat of a chair, completely out of reach.

  C'mon, Séamus.

  Charlie left the room, and Millman stood back from the dirty work, staring at Nick. His gaze dropped to where Raquel's overblown breasts jutted out between the ropes. Perfect. Just perfect. Humiliate me all you want, Séamus. Just don't let them hurt Margo.

  Millman shoved the cigar between his flabby lips and said to his goons, "You got a delivery to meet. Come back and take care of these two during the last act. No one will hear them over the music and screaming dames."

  "Let us go," Margo said, her voice strong, her worry undeniable. "We'll forget everything that happened here."

  "Yeah," Nick added, remembering how and why he'd convinced himself he was in love with Margo Knutsen all those years ago. She was brave, honorable, and beautiful. What wasn't to love? But he hadn't loved her enough. "Let us go."

  "In your dreams." Millman's eyes widened suddenly. "I got it now. You're that bitch lawyer who was too good for me."

  Nick sighed, not bothering to answer.

  "Good for you," Margo whispered.

  "Now I don't feel so bad about havin' to shut you up. Sly, you and Harry need to move the truck before somebody gets suspicious." Millman chuckled as he waddled through the door that led into the club.

  Sly—obviously the brains of Tweedles Dee and Dumb—pointed upward at the sprinkler in the ceiling. "Gotta move the truck before Millman pisses hisself over it."

  They locked the door leading back into the club, then left through the outside door. Nick heard the keys rattle and the dead bolt slide into place.

  "Isn't this just perfect?" Nick shook his head and sighed, disgusted with himself.

  Margo kept stretching toward the bottom of her chair. "Can you reach the knot?"

  "No." As Nick, he might have been able to, but not as Raquel. "C'mon, Séamus."

  The music fell silent suddenly. "Help!" Nick even tried a shrill whistle, and Margo shouted as well. The music resumed within seconds, drowning out their combined efforts.

  "We're going to die anyway," Margo said, "so tell me who you really are."

  Nick swallowed the lump in his throat. "You aren't going to die. Trust me."

  "Why?" They both kept twisting and squirming, trying to work their arms free of the ropes. "Why should I trust you if you won't tell me the truth?"

  "Margo…" Nick stopped squirming. "I… Dammit, Séamus!"

  "Tell me." Margo's voice trembled. "I have to know."

  Nick squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for some kind of guidance. Hearing nothing but the infernal music and the customers' cheers, he sighed. "I'm sorry for hurting you. Damn, this is killing me." He gave a nervous laugh. "Again."

  A tremor rippled through her. "Who are you?" Her voice sounded wretched.

  Nick hated himself for hurting her, but he had to finish his mission. Séamus had known, and Nick could no longer deny it.

  Jared Carson was the right man.
<
br />   His throat clogged, and he cleared it several times. It hurt, but Margo's happiness came first. Seeing her happy would relieve his guilt, and he'd be able to watch her be happy for the rest of her life. Wouldn't she love him more for that?

  He searched his memory for something only Nick could know. "Do you remember your twenty-fourth birthday?"

  "Of course. What does that have to do with any—"

  "Your husband dressed up in a clown suit and delivered a singing telegram." He cleared his throat and sang the opening lines of "Good Ship Lollipop." At least Raquel wasn't a soprano. That would've been too much.

  Margo made a choking sound. "How did you know that? Why do you have Nick's eyes?"

  "My eyes—not Nick's. I'm Raquel, remember? So he had blue eyes, too. End of coincidence."

  "You… know too much. The condo. The painting."

  Sacrifice… Would sacrificing his widow's memory of him be enough? Would that end this nightmare, so she could get on with her life?

  With Jared?

  Nick sighed, knowing the answer. It would hurt her at first, but in the long run, it would set her free. You only loved yourself. "Okay, if you insist…"

  "Tell me."

  "I was in love with Nick Riley." The truth. Sorta. "And he loved me."

  Margo was silent for several seconds while sweat trickled down Nick's face. Intimating to his own widow that he'd been unfaithful to her was sickening, especially since it wasn't true. His gut clenched, and his eyes burned. Raquel bawled more than anyone Nick had ever known. Séamus had said Nick never learned to make sacrifices. Destroying his widow's memory of him might make up for all his other failures as a husband. As a man…

  "So—so you're saying you had an affair with my husband?" Margo's voice sounded surprisingly strong. "And that's how you knew about my condo, the painting, my father-in-law… and Nick?"

  Nick drew a shaky breath. He was committed to this self-sacrifice shit now—no turning back. What was pride anyway? "An affair… if that's what you want to call it." His male ego would never be the same after this. "Besides, Nick always said that you… really loved someone else. I don't remember the name now." Okay, so that's a lie. "I'm sorry I've hurt you." His voice fell to a whisper.

  "I…" Margo released her breath in a loud whoosh. "I don't know what to say."

  Well, now he'd done it. Margo was crying, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it, but that was the least of their problems right now. First he had to make sure she survived this nightmare.

  "Let's stop reliving the past and see if we can get out of this mess," he said with a lot more cheer than he felt. "On three, try to stand and move us toward the door you're facing." It took several attempts, but they finally managed to move their chairs next to the door. Nick tried using his chin to turn the knob, but it didn't budge.

  Okay, Jared. Best Nick Riley one more time and save Margo. Please.

  Jared slipped into the empty office and hit a key on the computer keyboard. The screensaver of a naked woman in various poses cleared, and he ran a search for a few keywords. Nothing. Of course, that would have been too easy. Millman might be sleazy, but he obviously wasn't stupid.

  A thumping sound came through the wall. Jared released the safety on his gun and eased toward the closet door. He heard muffled voices, more thumping. Cautiously, he eased the closet door open and peered inside. He glanced back over his shoulder and flipped the overhead light on to illuminate the inside of the closet.

  Several file drawers occupied the closet. He'd need more time to search them. Tomorrow, before the Studfinder opened, he'd be back, unless—

  The music fell silent suddenly, and he heard the voices through the wall again. Female?

  After closing the closet door behind him, Jared examined the wall between him and the voices. There was a small door about three feet high behind a stack of boxes. He turned off the overhead light in the closet and crouched down to open it just a crack, expecting to find a safe or a cabinet. Instead, the door revealed an adjoining storage room.

  Something weird was going on here. A door to the outer office closed, and he heard footsteps over the muffled music from the club. Jared weighed his options. The footsteps came closer to his hideout, and he stopped pondering and slid through the small door, closing it behind him.

  A stack of boxes shielded him from the room's occupants. With both hands wrapped around the barrel of his gun, he rose to his knees, edged closer to the nearest corner, and saw Raquel Eastwood. Her eyes grew wide when she saw him, then one corner of her mouth curved upward in a grin that unnerved him.

  "It's about time."

  "Jared, thank God," the other woman said in her unforgettable voice.

  "Margo?" He slid his gun into his shoulder holster and pulled a knife out of his pocket. Within a matter of seconds, he'd freed both women. "What the hell hap—"

  "No time for that," Raquel said. "They're coming back to kill us after the last set." She aimed her thumb toward the stack of boxes beside the door. "Drugs. We're the unfortunate witnesses."

  Jared pulled out his agency phone and hit one number. His backup should be in place by now. The man who answered eased his mind. Gary was one of the best, and he was in the parking lot, watching a pair of men who'd left by a back entrance. Jared told Gary where they were and what they assumed was stashed there. Knowing the local P.D. wasn't trustworthy, Gary's partner would detain the two thugs in the truck, freeing him to join Jared.

  "Very nicely done," Raquel said. "I'm impressed. In fact, I—"

  "You two get back to your table. They won't try anything in front of all those witnesses."

  "Jared, be careful." Margo kissed him quickly on the mouth.

  "She always did love you more." Raquel's voice cracked. "Take good care of her, Jar-O."

  "Jar…" Jared's blood turned to ice. Only one person had ever called him that. "Later. Get back to the club, now. Trust no one—not even the cops."

  "Especially not them." Raquel snorted. "Charlie Fritz is in this up to the last hair on his pointed head."

  Margo bit her lip and nodded. "Be careful."

  "Promise." He unlocked the door and made sure the hallway was vacant.

  "Charlie Fritz's pointed head," a man repeated from behind them. "Did you hear that, Charlie?"

  "Sure did."

  Jared wanted to spin around and unload his clip, but common sense reminded him that the others were probably armed as well. By the time he took one down, another would fire. He couldn't risk it.

  "Hands in the air, Mr. DEA, and close that damn door."

  Jared complied and met Margo's gaze. He saw her fear, and hated that she was in danger. What the hell had she and Raquel been doing back here in the first place?

  "Turn around real slow."

  He obeyed, hearing Margo's sharp intake of breath. C'mon, Gary.

  "Let the women go." Jared tried to remember his training, but knowing the woman he loved was right behind him didn't help matters. "They're no threat to you."

  "C'mon, Séamus," Raquel whispered, reminding Jared how odd she was.

  "No threat?" Millman walked toward Jared. He didn't have a gun—at least not in sight. "Like hell."

  Charlie stepped from the shadows. He, of course, had a gun. His face was expressionless, his eyes cold. "Always wanted to best one of you fed hotshots. Guess I get my wish."

  "Not necessarily." Raquel stepped forward. "The place is crawling with agents. Your asses are toast."

  Jared cringed. "Uh, thanks, Raquel, but—"

  "Shut up!" Charlie shouted. He waved his gun around, losing every iota of cool he'd shown earlier. The guy was freaked.

  And dangerous.

  "Music's stopped. Someone will hear you if you fire that thing." Raquel took another step, showing no fear, and no damned sense.

  Millman rolled his cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. He gave his partner in crime a sidelong glance. "She's right. Wait for Sly and Harry."

  "Oh, but they a
ren't coming back." Raquel folded her arms, standing at an angle between Jared and Charlie.

  Margo crept up beside Jared, whose hands were still in the air. "Get back," he whispered.

  "Whatcha mean they aren't coming back?" Millman asked, narrowing his eyes. "What'd you do to 'em?"

  Raquel gave a throaty laugh. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

  "She's bluffing." Charlie swallowed so hard his Adam's apple climbed the length of his throat and back.

  The door to the outside rattled. Millman glanced at his watch." 'Bout time. The show's over and the club closes in six minutes. Now we have three mouths to shut up permanently."

  The door burst open, but no one was there. Jared managed to shove Margo behind a stack of boxes, then dove in with her. He peered around the corner, readying his aim.

  Charlie grabbed Raquel, who didn't put up any fight at all. "Watch the hands, Curly," she said, her tone sultry as ever.

  That woman had grit or she was insane. Either way, she was now a hostage, and that presented a brand-new set of problems.

  "Come out with your hands up," a voice called from outside.

  By now, Gary probably had enough firepower to blow the Studfinder to Mars. All Jared wanted was Margo out of here safely.

  "Drop it, Fritz." Jared took aim on Millman and stepped from behind the box. "Tell your partner to let the woman go."

  "Oh, let him shoot me, Jar-O," Raquel said.

  Jared swallowed hard, resisting the compulsion to look at Raquel just now. He had to watch Millman for any sudden moves.

  "Drop your weapon," Gary called from the open doorway, his gun pointed at Charlie and Raquel.

  "Dammit, Charlie, they got us. Let the bitch go." Sweat poured down Millman's face, and his cigar hit the floor.

  "Don't move or she's dead."

  "I'm already dead. Go ahead, make my day."

  Something that sounded like a sob erupted from Margo. He couldn't comfort her now, but he understood her concern about Raquel. Jared had seen some agents with death wishes in his day, but Raquel Eastwood was either the bravest person he'd ever met or else certifiable.

  The door leading into the club swung open behind them, and Charlie started shooting. Gary took him out in one shot. Jared had Millman pinned against the wall before they even knew who'd opened the door.