Hot Pursuit (12 page)

The floral display from hell.

Taylor swallowed. “I remember.”

“I've checked and it came through Flowers 'R Us. I asked a friend to trace the order, and it appears to have been purchased with cash at a participating florist in the Mission District.”

“Did they have a name?”

“None that will help you,” he said dryly. “The man signed the order form as John Smith.”

“Cute. What about an address?”

“He listed the same location as the downtown YMCA. As you probably have guessed, they have no John Smith on their residents' list.” His voice tightened with frustration, and Taylor had a clear sense that she wouldn't
ever
want to be on this man's bad side. “I'll keep trying, of course, but the chances of finding anything more are very slim.”

“Could they give any description of the man who placed the order?”

Uncle Vinnie laughed coldly. “Average height, average build, average weight. Dark hair, dark eyes. Age anywhere from twenty-five to forty. With that description, I could rule out maybe two people.”

Taylor frowned. “Didn't they wonder about the order? I can't believe many people send black flowers as gifts.”

“It seems that they are a known gag item.” He sighed. “We live in troubled times.”

No kidding.

Taylor rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the tension that was suddenly digging deep. “Well, it was a good try. Thanks again for all the help. Give my love to Sunny, will you?”

“Of course. Call me if you need any more help, my dear.”

Taylor responded in a daze, then disconnected.

“What's going on?” Jack took her arm. “You look pale.”

Floral death threats did that to a person.

Taylor took a sharp breath. “I just need some fresh air. I think I'll go with you after all. But I have to do one thing before I leave,” she said tightly.

Jack followed her to the door, frowning, “Where are you going?”

“Downstairs to see a friend.”

 

Candace answered her bell on the third ring, dressed in climbing pants and a tank top that showed off perfect shoulders. A bracelet with black cats gleamed on one wrist, her only jewelry.

She gave Taylor a warm hug, then pulled her inside. “Hey, I'm just heading up north for a climb. You want to come?”

“No, I'll pass on the climbing. I need to talk to you about something. It's about your boyfriend.”
Your lunatic boyfriend.

Candace closed the door and leaned against it, looking anxious. “What did Harris do now?”

“That floral arrangement I received was ordered by someone named John Smith, which is a little strange, I'd say.” Taylor paced the small apartment angrily. There was a bag of climbing equipment in one corner next to an expensive digital camera. “I didn't know you liked photography.”

“Oh, I'm not very good at it yet, but there should be some great shots today.” Candace rubbed her neck. “But I don't see the connection.” She stared at Taylor. “You think the man was Harris?”

Earth to Mars.
“Who else do we know who is acting deranged?” Taylor stopped pacing, trying to control her anger at Candace's continued denial. “I came to warn you not to see him. The man is seriously unhinged, Candace. Promise me you won't have anything to do with him. You could be in danger.”

“Harris wouldn't hurt me.”

“He already
did.
He hit you when you asked about the men following him, remember?”

Candace shifted her eyes as if the memory hurt. “I don't think he knew what he was doing that day. He was afraid, confused.”

“You've got to see him for what he is, Candace. Not for what you want him to be.”

Candace stared down at her hands. The bracelet tinkled, tiny cats dancing in a row. “I bought this the very first day we met at the lab where he worked. He was so helpful then, so charming.” She moved her hand slowly, watching the cats sway and spin. “I suppose I should throw it away, but I love watching these cats—maybe because they're so alive, so happy.” Her voice turned wistful. “Or do they only look happy?”

“Candace,
promise
me you won't see him. You've got to accept that the relationship is over.”

“If it's over, why does it still hurt?”

“Candace, please—”

“Look, I'd better go. Someone is picking me up and I don't want to be late.” She didn't meet Taylor's eyes as she grabbed her climbing bag and camera. “Finding things to distract me is a good idea, isn't it?”

Taylor forced a smile. “You bet. Ignore Harris Rains and get on with your life.”

Candace nodded slowly as they walked out to the elevator. “Sure you don't want to come today? We're going to practice bridging and stemming.”

No way was she dangling on another wall of rock.
“Gee, I can't. Not today,” Taylor lied, trying to sound regretful. As she spoke, the elevator doors opened.

Jack was waiting inside, fingers on the
HOLD
button. His keen eyes raked Taylor's face, then checked both corridors leading away from the elevator. “I got tired of waiting. Care for a ride, ladies?”

Candace locked her door and hefted her gear, assessing the look that passed between Taylor and Jack. “A friend of yours?”

“Sort of.”

Candace held out her hand. “Candace Jensen. Do you do any climbing?”

He shook her hand. “Jack Broussard. And I've done a little, here and there.”

Candace tilted her head. “Anyplace locally? Joshua Tree? Yosemite?”

“Nothing around here. Sorry.”

The elevator chimed, stopping at the ground floor. Candace leaned closer to Taylor. “Are you two involved?”

Taylor felt her face growing hot. “No.”

“Not even loosely?”

“Not loosely or any other way.”

A speculative gleam flared in Candace's eyes. Then she giggled, sounding very young. “Just as well. I doubt there's
anything
loose about that man.”

Chapter Twelve

FROM TAYLOR'S BOOK OF RULES:
If he loves silicone implants, let
him
get them.

“What was that about?” Jack rode back upstairs with Taylor after Candace got off in the lobby.

“It doesn't matter.”

Jack took her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Stop brushing me off. You were scared, Taylor. I saw it on your face. Who called you?”

An aging mafioso with information about anonymous death threats.
“Look, forget it, will you?”

“Like hell I will.”

There was fury in his eyes, and the sight fascinated her. Coupled with the sexy stubble, it made him look very dangerous.

“I don't want to think about it now. I want to go outside and clear my head.”

“Was it about Rains?” Jack gripped her shoulder. “Trust me, you're getting nowhere
near
him.”

When Jack continued to glare at her, Taylor touched his cheek. “Hey—no amount of inducement would get me close to that psycho. No one's fighting you here.”

Jack let out a hard breath. “Good. You saw him after the robbery, sucking up to the press. He's not the kind of person you want to be involved with, trust me. I've seen it—working on this divorce case, you know?”

“I know, but I think that you're beating yourself up over what happened in that robbery. You look like you haven't slept for a month.” Taylor frowned. “It's because of the man you shot.”

Jack leaned closer, trapping her against the wall. “Maybe I'm worried about
you
, damn it. Maybe I can't stop thinking about Rains and what he'll do if you get too close to him.”

“That sounds personal.” Taylor was intensely aware of his hard thighs locked against hers.

“Like hell it is. I'm just a man doing a job. There's not a hint of anything personal going on here. Got that?”

“Sure.” Taylor shifted slightly and her eyebrow rose. “And maybe that's the outline of your gun I'm feeling right now.”

“My Beretta's in a holster under my left shoulder.” Jack's voice was harsh.

“Which means this is getting personal.” Taylor met his angry look without flinching. “Should that frighten me, Jack?”

He pulled away, cursing. “If you knew what I was thinking, you'd be frightened as hell.”

“Why? Maybe I'm thinking the same thing,” Taylor whispered. “Ever since you barreled down that corridor and saved my life in that robbery, I can't get you out of my mind.” The words spilled out, almost against her will. “Things don't get any more personal than that.”

“Could you stop being so honest? It can be damned unnerving—especially when I'm trying to be calm and rational for both of us.”

“Does honesty frighten you?”

Jack crossed his arms. “Honey,
everything
about you frightens me.”

“Well, in that case, you can just haul yourself out of my way and out of my life.” She tried to push past, only to find herself captured against the wall, pinned in place by his powerful body.

“Let me rephrase that. You shake me up bad. You make me want to have you about twenty different ways, okay? The hell of it is, the thought's becoming something of an obsession, which means I can't do my job.”

“Oh.”

Jack shook his head. “That's
all
you've got to say? I'm spilling out my guts here, and you say
oh
?”

Taylor gave a crooked smile. “I have one other thing to say.”

“It better be good.”

She touched Jack's cheek, fascinated by this hard, cool side of him. She was beginning to realize that this kind of curiosity could become very dangerous. “I was just going to point out that you're sweating, Broussard. And I believe the gun is back.”

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, then shook his head, breaking into reluctant laugher. “You're over the top, you know that?”

“Being over the top is a special skill of mine. So what are we going to do about this little obsession thing we have going?”

“It's mutual?”

She nodded. This time her eyes were serious.

Jack's hands moved to her shoulders, then eased through her hair as if he was fascinated by all its wild colors. “We could pretend we never met.” Something about his tone told Taylor the idea was only half in jest.

“It would never work. I'm under your skin, and you know it.”

He stared back at her, mesmerized by her laugh. The woman was trouble, but he couldn't control the direction his thoughts were taking. “Then we could go back to your place,” he said tightly. “In a couple of hours, we could work this out of our systems for good.”

Part of him prayed she'd say yes.

Part of him was terrified that touching her would drag him under worse than ever.

“Oh, I think
that
would be a little excessive,” she said sweetly. “Any other options?”

“Try this one.” His mouth moved over hers, tested, skimmed, then locked hard. Heat shimmered as the kiss grew more intimate and their tongues met. Taylor's hands slid to his shoulders, trembling, and that small betraying movement made Jack curse, wanting her fiercely. Even though this was a mission and he
never
should have been thinking the things he was.

Then his hands were on her hips, dragging her closer, shaping her to the hard need neither of them could ignore, while a ragged little moan escaped her lips.

Behind them the elevator chimed. The doorman looked out and chuckled. “Sorry about that, folks. Don't let me interrupt you.”

The door closed and the elevator whisked away.

“Great.” Taylor dragged in a breath. “That kiss will be all over the building in an hour. Taylor and the new tenant all but stripping each other in the corridor.”

“Do you mind?” Jack frowned. These were her friends and her life, after all. He would be walking out of that life as soon as his mission was finished.

“I should mind. Besides, you're
definitely
not my type.”

“Hallelujah for that,” Jack said grimly.

“See? I should punch you for that comment—but I don't. I'm still trying to figure out why.”

Jack couldn't resist sliding one last kiss across those warm, sleek lips. “Must be because I'm under your skin, O'Toole.
Seriously
under your skin.”

“Dream on, hard case.”

“Oh, I'm dreaming, all right. They're definitely X-rated. Now let's go.”

“Where?”

“Wherever I want. You agreed to spend the day with me, remember?”

Taylor crossed her arms. “Tell me again why I agreed to do that.”

“Because we're both saying to hell with Harris Rains for one day. I'll feed you. We'll talk. We'll relax. Nothing serious, so let's not analyze it to death.” He waited impatiently. “Get your purse, and we'll hit the road. Remember to ditch those hand weights or I may end up crippled.”

Taylor sighed. “Are you
always
this alpha?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Now do you move or do I have to kiss you again until you shiver and make that sexy little moan?”

“I do nothing of the sort.”

His grin was dark and confident. “Sexy moan. No mistake about it.”

“You must be hallucinating.” Color drifted over Taylor's cheeks while she locked her door.

“Why don't we take your car? Mine's been acting up.” Jack's orders had been to arrange for Taylor to drive, making it clear to anyone watching that she was out of the action for the day. Meanwhile, her absence would create one less problem for the federal team scrambling to locate Rains.

If anyone followed Taylor, Jack would nail them.

“Fine with me.” Taylor watched him as he headed for her passenger door. “You're not demanding to drive?”

“Your car. You get to drive it.”

Taylor stared. “Most men chew their knuckles when a woman takes the wheel.”

Jack considered chewing his knuckles when she shoved in the gearshift and shot into traffic. He managed a cool smile. “As far as I know, sex never affects driving ability.”

“That depends on how much, where, and with whom.” Taylor's throaty laugh made Jack swallow a curse. She turned to look at him. “
You
could definitely affect my road handling.”

“Drive,” he said in a rough voice. “Stop giving me bad ideas.”

 

“Where
am
I driving to?”

“Monterey,” Jack said casually as she merged into the flow of traffic. “When did you last eat?”

Taylor frowned. “This morning. A handful of M&M's around ten.”

Jack shook his head. “For a smart person, you are seriously disturbed.” He reached over and dug in her purse.

“Hey, what are you—”

“Here.” He held up a smashed protein bar. “Eat it. Cars can't run on air, and neither can people.”

“You're doing that alpha thing again, Broussard.”

“You haven't seen anything yet. Now stop arguing and eat.”

“But—”

“Now. You know I'm right.”

Muttering, Taylor grabbed the bar and started eating, ignoring Jack's raised eyebrow when her stomach growled loudly.

He shook his head. “
Seriously
disturbed.”

But Taylor was enjoying the beautiful drive, and by the time they parked near the beach at the Monterey wharf, she realized she was ravenous.

“I insist that we split all costs right down the middle today. Fair is fair.” Taylor grabbed his arm and pulled him toward an old man selling Belgian waffles dusted with cinnamon and sugar. “I'll have one of these for starters. With chocolate syrup.” Before they reached the water's edge, Taylor had finished off a bag of popcorn, a hot dog with chili, and half of a chocolate chip cone with everything on it.

Hidden in the shadows, someone watched her every step of the way.

 

“Do you
always
eat like this?”

Wind ruffled the water. At the far end of the beach kayakers tested the broad, sheltered waters of Monterey Bay.

Taylor gave Jack's question serious consideration. “It's nerves. Sometimes I lose my appetite, and other times I can't turn it off.” She stopped to lick a trail of ice cream from her finger.

“Why the nerves?”

“Let's just say that my life has become a general mess.”

Jack handed her a napkin as a second ice cream trail ran down another finger. “What kind of mess?”

Taylor dangled her shoes in one hand and ate her ice cream cone with the other. “Things. You know. Problems.”

“Like?”

“Work. Friends. Family stuff.” She stared down the beach at a little girl tugging a red balloon over her head. “I also found out I was adopted.” She stopped walking, her face going pale. “I can't believe I told you that. I haven't told
anyone
that.”

He studied her gravely. “When did you find out?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“Did you discuss it with your parents?” Jack asked carefully.

“They're dead.” Taylor looked down, watching water skim over her bare feet. Ice cream trickled down her cone, but she didn't seem to notice. “They're gone, and I have no one else to ask. My sister doesn't even know.”

“How did you find out?”

“A letter from the law firm that took over after our family lawyer died.” Her voice tightened. “I found some papers stuffed in the middle of the file.”

“
That's
how you found out?”

Taylor nodded stiffly.

“It seems I have a brand-new reason to hate lawyers.” Jack stared at a spot out in the bay. “They ought to be sued for incompetence.”

“Maybe. But if they hadn't been sloppy, I'd never have learned the truth. I would have just gone on the way I had—oblivious, living a happy little lie.” She frowned at her hand as if she'd just realized it was covered with melting ice cream. “I think I've lost my appetite.”

Without a word, Jack took the cone and tossed it in a nearby garbage can. After scanning the beach around them, he walked back to Taylor. She hadn't moved, staring down at the tide that rose up to lap at her feet. “You okay?”

“Probably. But I'm going to stay here for a while.”

“Take your time.”

“Funny, when we were little, my sister and I used to stand like this for hours, talking about everything, arguing about nothing. We were filled with more dreams than two hearts could hold.” She took a breath. “But Annie stayed behind. All those years she was the rock, always and ever, while I . . . ran. And I ran. I visited all the places we'd dreamed about and put those old, half-forgotten dreams into words, then I built books trying to figure out what they meant. But I'll never know, because I'm not who I
thought
I was. I'm not really Taylor O'Toole, older sister of Annie O'Toole. I'm nameless, uprooted, and I hate that almost as much as I hate myself for believing it matters.” She scooped up a handful of sand and watched it hiss through her wet fingers. “You grow up taking so many things for granted. Day after day you think you know yourself and how the world works, but you don't,” she whispered. “Then everything falls away and no matter how you try, you can't hold it because you can barely even see it.” She sank onto the sand, her eyes closed. “I hate what I'm saying. I hate
caring
so much. And it's not even your problem—it's got nothing at
all
to do with you, so why don't you go on walking while I stay here for a few minutes and remember how to be a sane, mature adult who doesn't embarrass
both
of us.” She frowned when she realized he was bending down beside her on the wet sand. “Why haven't you gone away?”