A Perfect Storm (10 page)

“Not at all.” He handed her a
plump throw pillow. “Make yourself at home.” After a long hesitation,
Spencer tucked the throw up and over her feet. “I mean that, Arizona. Help
yourself to anything you need or want.”

“Thanks.” She bunched the pillow
up at her side. “So what’s on the boob tube?”

Bemused, he glanced at the TV
and then back to her. “Old MMA highlights. Did you want me to change it to
something else?”

“This is good. I like the
fights.” Mixed martial arts fascinated her.

Sounding more like himself, he
asked, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because you already know me,
that’s why.” She watched for a moment and became curious about his interest
in the sport. “Do you have a favorite fighter?”

“A few.” His big hand came to
rest casually on her foot. “If you’re in a talkative mood…”

Heart racing from his touch—on
her foot, for crying out loud—Arizona shrugged. “Sure.”

He turned down the volume on the
television. “Then let’s talk about our plans for tomorrow.”

What a buzzkill. She groaned. “I
guess you’re going to insist?”

He hesitated. “You know we need
to coordinate.”

Yeah, they did. To get
comfortable, she turned to her back with her knees bent under the throw, her
head on the pillow, and peered down the length of the couch at him. “We’ll
arrive separately, you in your truck, me by bus so that we can leave
together in one vehicle afterward.” She cautioned him, “Make sure you park
away from the entrance, so no one will see us together
afterward.”

Deadpan, he said,
“Naturally.”

“I’ll go in first and grab a
seat at the bar. Say, five or ten minutes later, you can come in and sit at
a table.”

“Why don’t I sit at the
bar?”

“Because I’ve already scoped out
the place, and that’s where I sat before.” She rolled her shoulder. “It’s
where I need to be to draw their attention. You can watch over things more
easily, without being noticed, from the eating area.”

He didn’t look happy about it,
but he agreed. “I’m not going to wait that long before coming in,
though.”

Why did he sound annoyed
already? “So come in earlier, then. Just be discreet.”

His thumb moved over the arch of
her foot, nearly stopping her heart. “This isn’t my first rodeo,
honey.”

She wasn’t his honey, but… “What
are you doing?”

“What?”

She nodded at her
feet.

As if he hadn’t been aware of
the touch himself, he looked down at his hand and then stroked with his
thumb again. “This?” He drew both her feet up to his thigh. “You’re
tense.”

She was, but she thought she’d
hidden it. “Yeah, well…”

“You don’t like it?” He pressed,
rubbed, worked her arches in a deep, firm massage.

And she wanted to melt. Felt
like parts of her
did
melt. “Mmm. I like it.”

Spencer stilled again, his gaze
piercing, hot. “Never had a foot-rub before?”

“That’s a joke,
right?”

“So relax and enjoy.”

It was a bit too personal, but
she liked it too much to make him quit. “Knock yourself out.” She drew a
breath and tried to get them back on track. “Okay, so you know to ignore me
when you come into the place, right?”

“If I did that, they’d suspect
something.” Setting aside the beer, he half turned toward her and, keeping
his gaze on her face, worked over her feet more thoroughly.

Bone-melting pleasure stole her
breath.

Watching her, Spencer said
softly, “No red-blooded man is going to miss noticing you, Arizona, so
forget that idea. I’ll give you the same attention every other guy in the
place will be doling out. Think you can handle that?”

With her heavy eyelids at
half-mast, she snuggled farther into his couch. “Sure.”

He half smiled. “Just so you
know, I might have to pretend interest in other women, too.”

That brought her out of her
slumberous trance. “Why?”

“Because if the place is what we
think it is, they’re liable to parade out the wares. If I’m not picking up
the cues, they’ll pull back and we’ll lose an opportunity.”

He was right, damn him. She
wouldn’t think about it now, and tomorrow…she’d deal with it. “Fine,
whatever.” Her toes curled at his renewed touch. “Once you’re in the bar for
backup, I’ll drop a few casual questions, maybe flirt a little, go for the
helpless look. You know, all in all I’ll make myself seem like easy
pickings.”

“You’ve done that
before?”

She closed her eyes and sighed.
“Yeah. Plenty of times. It works to draw out the unscrupulous
scumbags.”

His hands moved up to her
ankles, kneading, soothing, then back down over her feet.
So
nice.

“And when the scumbags show
themselves?”

“You and I can kick
their…butts.” She’d swallowed back the curse word just in time, which robbed
the description of any real punch.

This business of curbing her
language was a little harder than she’d expected.

“A near miss.” Spencer’s hands
stilled, tightened. “But I don’t like that part of the plan.”

“So what’d you want to do?
Sweet-talk them into falling off the face of the earth?”

“I want you to stay out of
harm’s way and let me handle it.”

She stared at him. “Poor
Spencer. Did you think the massage would make me more agreeable?” Was that
why he did it? “Fat chance.”

Planting one hand on the back of
the couch, another near her knee, he leaned over her.

And that
did
alarm her a little.
She was nearly flat on her back. She had on minimal clothing. And a man of
his size and strength could be imposing without malicious intent.

She said, “Uh—” and considered
bringing her knee up into his ribs.

“Here’s what’ll happen, honey.”
His tone was calm, even. “You’ll ask the right questions, be suitably naive,
and if anyone bites, we withdraw.”

“We?” She looked at his throat,
at the flexing of muscles in his chest.
Focus,
Arizona.
“So you’re not just cutting me
out?”

He shook his head. “For now,
we’ll both play it cool to see how deep the operation goes.”

Good idea. There were always
more people involved than those most obvious. She swallowed and pressed one
hand to his left pectoral.
Solid.
“And later?”

“Once we know what we’re dealing
with, all of it from the bottom up, then we’ll make a move. A
well-thought-out move, with plenty of safeguards.” He looked at her mouth,
and his voice lowered. “But not until then.” He straightened away
again.

Arizona hadn’t realized she was
holding her breath until she sucked in a giant gulp. And really, that wasn’t
only fear she felt. She knew it, and that sort of rattled her,
too.

“You either give me your word on
that,” Spencer said, regaining her attention, “or everything is
off.”

He sat there watching her,
waiting, and for some absurd reason, Arizona felt like laughing. “Tell you
what, Spence. After that wonderful foot massage, I’ll agree that if retreat
is an option, I’m all for it.” Turning on her side again, she drew up her
knees so that her feet no longer touched him, and she tucked her hands under
her cheek. “But if anyone touches me, it’s on.”

“No one will.”

Because he wouldn’t let them?
His protective nature didn’t bug her as much as it should have. “No more
talking. My brain is tired. Let’s just watch the knockouts.”

Over the throw, Spencer smoothed
a hand from her foot to her knee and back again. It was a casual touch,
affectionate, the way you’d stroke someone you cared for. A familiar,
platonic,
exciting
touch.

Even when he left his hand
there, she didn’t mind. She wondered what his warm fingers would feel like
on her bare skin, and shifted.

Without relinquishing the
contact, Spencer turned the volume back up and they fell into a
companionable silence.

Before she knew it, Arizona felt
so comfortable and secure that she forgot her day-to-day grievances and her
constant wariness of everyone and everything. For once, she felt…safe. She
even felt
content.

It was a pretty wonderful
feeling.

* * *

I
T
WAS
PROBABLY
the earlier conversation
about Spencer’s wife that made her think of all she’d missed out on, all
that she would never have—like family, a home of her
own…children.

With the television playing in
the background, Spencer a quiet, comforting presence beside her, Arizona
drifted off to sleep. As she relaxed her guard, her thoughts went backward
in time, and her dreams returned her to the junkyard once again.

* * *

U
NABLE TO LOOK AWAY,
she watched the
business deal take place. The guy handing over money repeatedly rubbed his
lips together. They were slick with saliva, and it made her skin crawl. The
sticky evening air added to her growing nausea. Night sounds of crickets,
distant traffic and an occasional barking dog closed in around
her.

The degradation tried to whittle away her
backbone.

She would not let it.

A fast glance around showed no escape.
Never an escape. High fencing topped by barbed wire enclosed the junkyard. A
nearby guard, recognizing her trepidation, watched with a sick
smile.

Don’t look, don’t look…but her gaze
automatically sought the small shack where she’d be taken.

Where she’d been taken before.

Her vision narrowed, dark and fuzzy. Her
throat burned, sick with revulsion. If she ran, they’d shoot her.

But…would that be better or
worse?

Oh, God, by now she should’ve been
numb.

Instead she felt it all, every leering
thought, every malicious, twisted intention, each hurt and each awful
humiliation.

With the transaction complete, the
loose-lipped man started toward her. Her heart pounded too hard, too
fast.

Her panic escalated.

And her hatred grew.

* * *

M
IDNIGHT
CAME
AND
WENT
. Mired in sentiment too raw to bear, Spencer
considered pouring himself something stronger to drink. Two beers hadn’t
done squat to numb his growing desire, both physical and
emotional.

Arizona had fallen into a deep
sleep; if he got drunk, it wouldn’t bother her.

But it would soften his edge,
and around her, he needed to stay sharp.

He finished off the beer, then
leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. He should have
gone on to bed, but he didn’t want to. Absurd as it seemed, he enjoyed
soaking up this quiet, peaceful time with her.

So far, he’d seen her angry,
defensive, amused and provoking. But rarely was she serene.

As she shifted, her small feet
nudged his thigh. He curved his hand around her ankle, noting again her
delicate bone structure, how her warmth penetrated the throw. If he touched
her bare skin, she would be so soft, so silky…

A small sound escaped
her.

Going on alert, Spencer turned
his head and, with only the light of the television, studied her
face.

Without those light blue eyes
discerning his every move, her impact should have diminished. Instead, he
felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

No woman should be that sexy. In
the low light, her glossy dark hair tumbled around her face and shoulders
like liquid silk. And that face…thick lashes, high cheekbones, a pert nose
and such a full soft mouth.

But truthfully, she could have
looked like a hag, and with her body, few men would care. As Spencer drifted
his gaze over her, his muscles tightened and twitched and his guts burned
with need. Volatile lust pressed inside him like a tide, getting stronger
and stronger every time he saw her, even when he thought of her.

Around her, he felt a craving
unlike anything he’d ever known, and that made him feel guilty for too many
reasons to contemplate.

Arizona’s careless bravado made
him hot with temper, and with lust. Her earthy way of speaking, her sexual
curiosity, left him sometimes staggered, often unsettled, and anxious to
school her on all she’d missed.

She shifted again, and his heart
beat harder. He felt like a pervert for getting semi-hard over a sleeping
woman who would be appalled if she knew the direction of his
thoughts.

Then again, Arizona was
insightful. She understood the way men’s minds worked, so she likely already
assumed he had those thoughts.