Explosive (The Black Opals) (28 page)

Brice leaned on his doorframe.
“You know he’s crazy about you. Give him a chance, Alyssa. Trust him with the truth.”

Give him a chance to destroy her heart.
Or worse, to become completely disappointed in her. She owed it to him. If she didn’t, she’d lose him. And this time, if he walked away, he’d never give her another opportunity. She would kill every bit of emotion he felt for her.

Come with me.

Meet his family and open herself to disappointing not only Jayce, but everyone else who meant something to him. Meet Jordan, the one person in Jayce’s family who knew about their plans and dreams. What if Jordan asked where she’d gone, why she’d never gone to Chicago, why she’d broken Jayce’s heart?

Worse, what if
Jordan didn’t ask and judgment shone in her eyes?

You’re mine, Alyssa.
You’ve always been mine.
His husky whisper played through her mind. Agreeing had been the most natural response in the world. She would always be his. Could she really let him walk away without ever knowing if she might have had a chance at the forever they’d once planned?

Alyssa headed for the front door.
She had to get out of this house, away from the distractions and the way Brice pushed at her. Even when Michael had attacked and raped her, she hadn’t been the coward she was being now. True the nightmares terrified her, but nightmares were beyond her control. Jayce had returned. He was here right now. All she had to do was take an impossible chance and choke out the words. When she’d confessed the worst part of everything, he’d held her and comforted her tears.

She squeezed her eyes shut to block her jumbled thoughts.
“I’m going for a run. I’ve got my phone on me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go off alone with everything that’s going on,” Brice called after her.

He might have a point, but she was doing a good enough job at shutting down. She refused to become an agoraphobic because Parker thought he could intimidate her. For too long she’d surrender control over her own life. Besides, all he’d done was break into her house and office. She was beginning to believe Parker’s goons were all smoke and blow. He dealt in white-collar crime, not blackguards and thugs.

She shook her head and kept on walking.
“I need to sort some things out. I won’t go far.”

T h i r t y – o n e

A
s Alyssa approached the corner intersection of her residential street, the sound of a slow-moving car filtered through her dense, conflicted thoughts. Her circumstances, the threats on her life, slammed into her awareness. Her already accelerated heart rate kicked up another notch.

How long had they been following her?

She resisted the fierce urge to dash forward and focused on the steady pounding of her sneakers.
No. You’re being silly. It’s just a car.

But why wasn’t it passing her?
Why creep along just beneath her jogging speed?

She glanced over her shoulder, increasing panic turning her perspiration into an icy sheen of fear.
Ten feet behind her, a grey sedan cruised at an ant’s pace. She couldn’t make out the driver behind the wheel in her quick glance, and she wasn’t about to take time to stop for a closer look. Pushing the last of her energy into her feet, she sprinted ahead.

Was it her imagination, or had the car picked up as well?

Alyssa focused on the approaching stop sign. Forty feet, and she’d be on her own street. Two houses down on the right—safety. She pushed a deep breath out and willed her body to go faster. Her lungs screamed against the effort; her thighs burned.
It’s not that far. You can make it.

If she didn’t make it…

Alyssa squeezed her eyes shut and swiped at a bead of sweat on her temple. If she didn’t reach her driveway, she had no doubt she’d never see Jayce or Brice again. Damn it! She hadn’t even surrendered the information the police wanted. Parker would walk away with no one the wiser. Free to terrorize someone else.

Her heel came down on a jagged, uneven crack in the sidewalk.
Unbalanced, she stumbled to regain her footing. But it was useless—her ankle turned at an awkward angle, and her momentum pitched her forward. She threw her hands before her, managing to break the impact of her fall, and toppled belly-down on the sidewalk.

Not more than ten feet behind her, the car slowed at the curb.

Terror streaked through Alyssa’s veins. Scrambling to find purchase, she struggled to rise. Her overtaxed, trembling legs and the sudden constriction of her diaphragm made the effort impossible. From the corner of her eye, she caught a pair of black loafers approaching at a jog.

As a scream rose to her throat, Alyssa gave standing one last effort.
She shoved against the pavement with her scuffed hands and knees, managing to work herself into a runner’s crouch.

Oh, God.
Oh, God!

“Hey, are you okay?”
A winded, masculine voice called out.

The shout was like a gunshot and had nearly the same effect on Alyssa.
Halfway to her feet, her legs already pumping for an escape, she tripped and caught herself on her hands once again.

“Hey, slow down.
I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

What?

Alyssa froze in place and slowly looked over her shoulder.

A blond man approached, concern etched into his angular face.
He slowed his steps to a purposeful walk and ventured a hesitant half-smile. When he reached her side, he extended a hand to help her up. “Really, I’m sorry if I scared you. I’m looking for Dell Street. I was going to ask you at the stop sign.”

Dell Street
—she’d panicked over a man who wanted directions?
Idiot.
Alyssa slapped her hand into his outstretched palm and allowed him to help her up. “Dell’s four blocks north.” Panting, she gestured in the direction with her free hand.

His warm smile filled with gratitude.
“Thanks.” He pumped her hand, then released it. “Dave Winters. My buddy just moved in over here. I’m up from Colorado Springs. Again, I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s okay.”
Alyssa returned his smile.
I’m just afraid of my own shadow.
The guy was kinda cute, despite three days worth of stubble. And his shoulders were a far cry from Jayce’s broad strength, but defined muscle peeked from beneath Dave Winters’ short sleeves.

With a dip of his head, he indicated her skinned knees.
“Think you’d let me buy you a drink to make up for those?”

Alyssa chuckled and wiped the back of her wrist across her sweaty brow.
“I’m good, thanks. Dell’s four blocks that way, but you have to turn onto Eastmoor first. They run into each other.”
Next time call your friend.
She refrained from sharing the snide remark and tightened her pony-tail. “I better get going. Heart rate and all.”

“Right.”
He tugged on the bill of a faded ballcap embroidered with ATF and flashed a dimpled grin. “Thanks for the directions.”

Waving, Alyssa picked up a casual jog and moved away.
“Good luck.”

He turned back to his car and climbed inside.

Alyssa waited for the sedan to pass before she allowed her feet to stop. She stood, rooted in the middle of the sidewalk, tidal waves of relief washing over her. For a minute, she’d really believed this was how it would end—her falling on the sidewalk, Parker’s thugs pouring out of the car and dragging her off never to be seen again. She was becoming a damned ninny, scared of the world beyond the walls of her house.

This had to end.
She couldn’t live like this.
Wouldn’t.

Parker could take his threats and rot in hell.

As anger overtook her fright, Alyssa broke into a run again. Darting through a side yard, she cut across lawns, shortening the distance to her house. She was tired of being a coward. This was her life, and she was sick and tired of allowing fear to control it.

She hit her front door, so furious she could spit nails.
If Parker wanted to threaten her, she’d prove to him he couldn’t intimidate her. There was right, and there was wrong; he’d broken the law, and she refused to spend the rest of her life reacting to the world around her.

“That was quick,” Brice called as she passed the living room.

“Forgot something.” Alyssa didn’t stop until she was inside her office with the door shut and locked behind her. She pulled out her leather chair, sat down, and shook the mouse to wake up her computer.

With a few clicks of the keyboard she connected to her office machine and opened the password-protected drive that held her client’s records.
While her email client loaded, she jerked open the top drawer and fished out Detective Marston’s card. Her message was simple:

Here are the files you requested.
No need for the subpoena.

~Alyssa Martin

She hesitated only a second before she attached Parker’s entire client history and then hit send.

When the email finished transmitting, Alyssa stared at the computer screen.
She could get in a lot of trouble for supplying those records without a subpoena. Parker could sue her three ways from Sunday. But if he was going to intimidate her, at least now he had reason. Moreover, if something legitimately happened to her, Parker would serve time. Maybe not for what he might do to her, but he would experience the heavy hand of justice one way or the other.

Inhaling deeply, she accepted the finality of what she’d done.
It’s the right thing to do.
And it felt good to be completely in control for once. Damned good.

Now, she could clear her mind and return to her run.
With a little luck, she’d accomplish what she’d set out to originally—to work out exactly what she wanted with Jayce. Then, this afternoon, she was going to finalize the Anderson’s files and have that off her plate as well.
Completely free.

She left her office and stopped in the hall to fiddle with her phone.
When she’d keyed in the right combination, it emitted a soft beep, and she tucked it back into her bra. “Brice?”

“Yeah?”

“I turned on the GPS on my phone.”

His thoughtful response came from the kitchen.
“Everything okay?”

“Yep.
All’s good.” It still didn’t hurt to be a little extra cautious. Just in case. “Back in a few!”

He appeared in the doorway, braced his hands on the upper ledge, and leaned into the hall.
A concerned frown marred his brow. “Be careful. I still don’t like this.”

Alyssa smiled.
“I will be. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me not to worry so much?”

At his begrudging nod, she headed for the front door.
Two photographs and insignificant break-ins would not make her a prisoner. She was done living in fear. This was her life, and damn it, she would control its outcome.

Feeling much more confident in general, Alyssa struck off down the street again.

* * *

Someone had threatened Alyssa with a bomb, but who?

Jayce couldn’t let go of the question as he navigated the streets of Boulder to Jordan’s townhouse. Parker stood out like a neon orange splotch on a purple shirt. Everything pointed to him—he’d even had his attorney contact Alyssa directly. But from everything Jayce knew about Parker, bombs weren’t his style.

James Parker had been on the CIA’s watch list for years.
He was suspected of filtering money earned from conflict emeralds in Colombia through international shell corporations. Those illegal gains funded organizations like the Moscow
Solntsevskaya
Bratva
, FARC, and the Taliban—all of which linked back to the emerald industry. But Parker kept a low profile, one of the reasons they had never been able to prove his involvements. Using violence now, while indeed he possessed the necessary alliances with outfits who were more aggressive, wouldn’t help Parker’s case. Intimidation, yes. Scaring the shit out of Alyssa, yes. Something as conspicuous as an explosion didn’t fit Parker’s attic-rat methodology.

Something didn’t smell right.

Jayce parked next to Jordan’s red Cavalier and sat staring at the townhouse, mulling through the inconsistencies. Not for the first time he wished he had more hands-on experience with some of the truly covert operations the Black Opals had been part of, instead of being called in on special circumstance. More specifically, he wished he had access to some of the deeply embedded operatives. Right about now he’d kill to be able to reach out to Stefan Moretti and Misha Petrovin, who’d both done work in Colombia and knew more about Parker. Sadly, both men were off the grid somewhere.

Sighing, he shut off the engine and let himself out of his pickup.
He’d pick Kane’s mind. Maybe his computer-whiz skills could come up with something. Jayce pocketed his keys, jogged to Jordan’s door, and came to a dead halt, his hand raised to knock. Through the ineffectual barrier, he caught the resonating sound of a man’s muffled voice. The particular timbre, he knew all too well.
Kane.

What in the hell was Kane Anderson doing at
Jordan’s house at five minutes till eight in the morning?

He was going to kill that asshole.

Jayce stuffed his key into the lock and shoved the door open, prepared to haul Kane backward out the door and pound some sense into him. But the scene he found inside had him stopping mid-stride and freezing in place again. Kane lay on the couch with a lightweight blanket thrown over his legs and a pillow tucked under his head. He still wore his T-shirt, and at the bottom of the blanket, a jeans-clad ankle protruded. Jordan was nowhere to be seen.

Jayce’s immediate desire to throttle his temporary partner diminished.
He squinted in suspicion.

Kane lifted a hand.
“Morning.”

“Where’s
Jordan?” Jayce barked. “She’s supposed to be at the studio.”

With a soft chuckle, Kane shook his head in bemusement.
“You’ve seriously got to work on trusting a man’s word.”

Unamused, Jayce cocked an eyebrow.

“She’s already been and come back. Said she was heading for the shower.”

The groaning of pipes as a faucet came on in the bathroom was like fate had stuck out its tongue and taunted Jayce.
He muttered beneath his breath, tossed his keys on the table, and shut the front door. “Why are you still here?”

As Kane stretched, he gave an expansive yawn.
“Went for food and drinks after the movie.” Tucking his hands behind his head, he smirked at Jayce. “Did you know she’s a lightweight? Two glasses of wine, and she was in no shape to drive. I was bushed.” He shrugged again. “Couch was better than a cab ride to the hotel. Faster too.”

“
Jordan’s a lightweight because she’s devoted to dance.” Still not entirely pleased with Kane’s close proximity to his baby sister, Jayce couldn’t keep the harshness out of his voice. “In case you didn’t notice, she weighs all of a buck-fifty soaking wet.”

“I noticed.”

Jayce jerked around to face Kane again. Just what was that supposed to mean? “You noticed?”