Authors: Shayla Black
Strip Search (40 page)
Nicki had been innocent all along.
He didn't have all the facts now, but enough to justify listening to his gut, which told him Nicki wasn't in collusion with anyone or the mastermind of any grand scheme.
But he'd sort out the hows and whys later. Now, Mark reached for the cell phone at his waistband when he heard a noise coming from the apartment's front door.
Hell, did the scumbag have an accomplice who'd just arrived ?
He turned to glance over his shoulder and found Nicki standing in the shadowed living room, body tense. She dropped her shoes to the floor with a thud.
She gasped softly, and dread settled in his gut. Adrenaline rocketed through his system, setting off every one of his protective instincts. He could get Nicki the hell out of here and to safety, letting the foul-smelling meth freak have a chance at escape. Or he could stay and fight and hope that in the scuffle the smelly bastard wasn't able to finish his job.
No contest.
The thug below him struggled and tried to reach for his gun. Mark applied his knee to the guy's balls and pressed. The meth freak gasped.
"I better not ever see or smell you near Nicki again. I swear I'll kill you with my bare hands."
Grunting, Mark slammed the butt of the gun into the assailant's head, rendering him unconscious. He rose to his feet, breathing hard, trying to find inner calm. The urge to hog tie the murderous bastard roared. Then he itched to call 911. He couldn't afford the time for either. He could not have Nicki near the man who wanted to kill her. They'd call for help from the car.
At the moment, he had to get her to safety.
Mark crossed the room to Nicki, grabbed her wrist and started heading for the front door. "Where are your car keys? We've got to get out of here."
"Who is that?"
Shaking his head, Mark dragged her toward the front door. "It's not important now. What's important is that we've got to get you to safety."
Nicki dug her heels into the ground and yanked her grip from his. "Just call the police and have him carted out of here."
Frustration mounted. Damn stubborn woman. "It's not that simple. We have to go now."
"No. You go! I'll hold the door open for you. But don't think for a second that I'll go anywhere with you again, Mark. Or should I address you as Mr.
Sullivan,
vice president and chief financial investigator?"
Sullivan,
vice president and chief financial investigator?"
Chapter 16
T
o Mark's credit, when Nicki hurled the words at him, he barely flinched.
o Mark's credit, when Nicki hurled the words at him, he barely flinched.
"We have to get you out of here." He grabbed her wrist again. "Now!"
Nicki yanked from his grasp, anger bubbling up like boiling acid. The man had invaded her life, deceived her, made her fall for him, and didn't have the decency to own up to it. "I'm not going anywhere with you. In fact, get the hell out." Furious tears slammed into the back of her eyes, prickling. "I don't ever want to see your miserable, lying face again."
He clenched his jaw. "You're pissed. I understand. I deserve it. Let's hash this out somewhere else. But you're not staying here alone and waiting for your unexpected house-guest to wake up."
Mark grabbed for her once more. Nicki jumped out of his reach.
"I don't need you. I can call the police all by myself. My sister should be back from her outing with Ashley soon. I'm not risking her running into this guy. And while he's not my best friend, Blade won't let anything happen to me, either."
"According to the unconscious criminal in your room, it seems your pal Bocelli hired him to kill you. Normally, I wouldn't put a lot of stock in what a speed freak says, but since he had no reason to lie and I was. holding a gun to his head ..."
The words hit her like a slow-motion punch to the gut. They sank deep, stunned, leaving her gasping for air. "But ... why? I don't... Blade hired him?"
"Yes, and we're wasting too much time standing here and talking about it. If Bocelli realizes his latest plan has gone awry, there's nothing to keep him from marching over here with that shiny forty-five he wears under his leather jacket and dusting us both."
Mark stalked toward her. Nicki had no time to think, to react, before he cornered her and bent, slinging her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.
"Put me down, damn it! I'll walk."
She beat her fists against his back. Her blows may as well have been water for the way they rolled off. Great, his Conan alter-ego was back.
"Where are your car keys?" he asked, marching out the apartment door.
"In my hand. I'd planned to use my house key to open the door." She paused, a thought occurring to her. "Which was standing wide open when I arrived. You broke into my apartment?"
Mark started down the club's stairs, holding her firmly in place with a large palm nearly across her ass. Nicki tried not to notice that his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs with virtually every step he took. She gritted her teeth. The lying ape might arouse her--but she wasn't going to give in to him ever again.
This time, she'd forget the scent of him still clinging to her own skin and remember Anne Boleyn.
"Well, if you found my business cards, I'm guessing you were on your own fishing expedition at my place."
"I was looking for a piece of paper, and a briefcase seemed like a logical start. What the hell were you looking for?"
Beneath her belly, she felt Mark's shoulder tense. The grip of his fingers tightened on her thighs and climbed higher. Oh, great. Just perfect. She was furious and betrayed and itched to give him a verbal kick in the ass ... while his finger now bumped and rubbed her right... there with every step. She wouldn't be surprised if the bastard was doing it on purpose.
He didn't answer. as he strode through the club with sure steps and wound his way to the back door. Kicking the door open, he erupted into the night, still carting her over his shoulder, still prodding the dampening flesh between her legs with each step. The fact arousal began to simmer low in her belly only pissed her off more.
Finally, he set her down next to the passenger door of her car. "Get in."
He unlocked it with a button, opened her door and tried to shove her inside.
Panting against her will, Nicki pushed back. "I'm not leaving my sister here with a killer."
"We'll call the police to take the ice head away. And Bocelli ... he's not trying to kill your sister. In fact, I think there are lots of things he'd like to do to her, but killing her isn't one of them."
Nicki blinked. "What? You think Blade wants to... sleep with my sister?"
He snorted. "Doubt there'd be much sleeping going on, but yeah. That's the general gist."
Blade and... no. It didn't add up. Did it? "With Lucia?"
"Do you have any other sisters?"
The way Nicholas DiStefano liked beautiful women everywhere, no telling. He'd spread his genes more than once, both before and after he'd married.
Frowning, Nicki felt like she was playing for the slow team today. "You're saying that Blade has it in his thick Italian skull that he's going to have me killed, then pursue Lucia. Isn't that male logic for you?"
Mark lifted her and shoved her in the car. "We're burning time here. I'm getting you to safety with or without your cooperation."
Nicki started when Mark slammed the door. An instant later, he appeared on the driver's side, where he opened the door, inserted the key in the ignition and pressed the button to put the convertible top down.
Seeing her opportunity to escape the single-minded bastard who'd both lied to her and broken her heart, Nicki reached for the handle on her door.
Mark grabbed her wrist. "Don't even think it. I will bind you up like a calf at the county fair if I have to. But one way or another, I'm getting you away from Bocelli."
"Let go of me, you lying, domineering, slime-sucking bastard. I'm so pissed right now, I could--"
"Rant all you want," he broke in, his stare implacable. "At least you'll be in one piece."
"When you go out of your way to be a jerk, you're really a blue-ribbon winner, you know that?"
"Never do anything halfway." He shot her a bitter grin.
Finally, the top whirred down into place. Mark adjusted the seat all the way back and climbed in. His knees were still somewhere in the vicinity of his arm pits--served the jackass right--but he managed to start the car and place a call to 911.
A few turns later, he managed to zip onto the Strip, still crowded at midnight, while indicating to the dispatcher that the suspect was unconscious in Nicki's bedroom. As he turned off the busy tourist path, heading toward the older downtown section of Las Vegas, Mark ended the phone call with a sigh.
"Where are we going?" she demanded at a stoplight.
"I'm thinking."
"This is crazy. You drag me out in the middle of the night with no explanation, you lying slime. Nothing makes sense. Why would Blade try to kill me?"
The people in the next car over had their windows down and turned to stare. Tourists clearly. Still, she winced.
"Want a megaphone to go with that?" he ground out. "Maybe the folks out at the Hoover Dam didn't hear you clearly."
"Sorry," she grumbled. "I'm frustrated. You're pissing me off. I don't understand and--"
"Fifteen minutes, okay? Just give me that long to work out a plan."
She glanced at the clock on the dash and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm watching the clock."
With another sigh, he dragged out the cell phone at his waist, hit a few buttons and lifted the little device to his ear. "Sorry for the nasty habit of waking you up, Rafe." He glanced over at her, with an expression he couldn't quite read. "Things have changed. Someone tried to kill Nicki tonight. I'll fill you in later. For now, I need someplace Nicki and I can hide."
Mark paused, listening. Nicki studied him. Tense, jaw clenched, one hand gripping the steering wheel so tightly she was amazed it didn't bend. Grim, like he hadn't smiled in forever. Golden hair whipping behind him in a wild tangle as he buzzed down the nearly empty side streets, he looked like a pirate, a loner. He didn't look merely lost, but desolate--and resigned to that fact.
In that moment, Nicki wanted to raise her hand to comfort him. Damn it, no! He'd lied to her about his name, wanting a job, where he'd come from--hell, everything. Nicki dug her nails into her palms to prevent herself from even thinking of offering him comfort. Mark had pretended to be involved with her, so he could investigate what? Her? Her club? No clue.
"Yeah," Mark said to Rafe over the phone. "And when I hang up, call in the Feds. This case is about over."
He'd deceived her, pretended to be conflicted about the fact he cared. He hadn't cared one iota. She'd let him touch her in ways no man ever had sexually, emotionally. She'd give her body again and again. Worse, she'd surrendered her heart. He knew it, too, and still kept deceiving her. And now he was calling the Feds? As in the FBI?
Nicki's chest contracted, pain gripping her. This was, in some surreal way, reality. She'd been a case to him, a mere investigation. Lord knew why. Whatever she thought they'd shared had likely been nothing more than a way to earn her trust.
Biting her lip, Nicki struggled to hold in furious tears and four-letter expletives. She curled her hands into even tighter fists to keep from pummeling his barn-broad chest. Damn him!
"What?" Mark protested suddenly into the phone. "No, man. Be serious."
After another pause, he sighed and shook his head as he rolled to another stop before a red light. "Fine. I'll call you once we're safe and I've had a chance to talk to Nicki."
"Don't do anything I wouldn't," she heard Rafe taunt on the phone now that they'd stopped.
Mark snorted. "Since you'd do most anything, that doesn't leave me a lot to avoid."
"All kinds of possibilities while you keep her safe."
"Fuck off."
Mark snapped his flip-phone closed on the sound of Rafe's laughter, then sped off as the light turned green again.
He avoided looking at her.
Finally, they pulled up in front of a mission-style hotel. It was older and out of the way, but known everywhere for its Elvis-themed wedding chapel.
"Why are we here?" Nicki stared at him, wondering if he knew he was about to be all shook up by the very "Viva Las Vegas" place he was walking into.
"Let's go." He put the car in park, pried himself out of the little car, then pressed the button to put the convertible's top up again.
Nicki grabbed her key out of the ignition as he lunged for them. "I'll keep these. They are mine."
With hardly a ripple of those mile-wide shoulders, he reached out and snatched the keys from her hand. "You're not going anywhere until it's safe. If that means my hanging on to your keys until you start listening to me ... oh well."
Ire bubbled up in her like a boiling vat of fury. "You make me so mad, I could just spit! Your attitude only proves that you definitely belong in the prick category."
"I'm sure wanting to see you live another day makes me a pecker of the first order. Let's go."
After pocketing the keys, Mark lunged at her and seized her wrist. There wasn't enough room in the small space of the car for Nicki to dodge him.
As Mark yanked her through the parking lot, she did her best to keep up, but the hot tar and little pebbles littering the surface both conspired to bruise the bottom of her bare feet.
She gritted her teeth against the discomfort. She'd let her lily white ass get a sunburn from the fires of Hell before telling Mark. Still, walking gingerly while Conan dragged her behind him was impossible.
"What's wrong?" he turned and asked.
The sudden concern on his face made her pause. Damn it, she was angry. She wanted to stay that way. He deserved every hurled accusation she could dream up for his lies and deceit. But while she couldn't deny that the bastard didn't love her, his concern was evident in the tilt of his golden brows above watchful hazel eyes. He was trying to save her life ... in his own overbearing way.
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