A Perfect Storm (14 page)

Seemingly unaware of his fury, she withdrew a catalogue. “Know what I really want?” She thumbed through the catalogue until she reached a dog-eared page. Coming to stand by him, practically leaning into his side, she pointed out a costly, custom knife. “Isn’t it cool?”

Spencer only half heard her as she waxed on about bead blasted, anodized titanium handles, double thumb openers and pivot screws.

Chagrined, he dropped down to sit on the side of the bed. “You know your knives.”

“I know most weapons,” she agreed as she sat down beside him. “But knives are my favorite.”

And the knife she favored most was one he’d already purchased for himself. The irony leveled him; love of a quality blade was one more thing they had in common.

“Soon as I can save up enough coin, I’m going to get it.”

The contrasts left Spencer reeling. She sat beside him, young and, at the moment—while discussing weapons—very sweet. She was so intrinsically female, her face animated and her tone light…but she talked about buying a highly lethal weapon that, if pressed, she would use against a deadly goon.

Her thigh touched his. Her intoxicating scent filled his head.

And she wanted to debate who had the right to vengeance.

Determined to set her straight, he drew her back up to her feet, his hands on her shoulders, his expression stern—and his cell phone rang.

Damn. He waffled—but he knew he couldn’t ignore it.

Shifting away from him, she lifted a brow. “Expecting a call?”

“Not really.” Spencer glanced at the caller ID and saw it was Trace. Frustrated at the interruption, he answered with a succinct, “I’ll call you right back.”

Without a single question, Trace said, “Meet me downstairs instead.” And he disconnected.

Well, hell. Definitely interrupted. “Sorry.”

Arizona’s eyes narrowed.

Spencer ignored her curiosity to say, “We need to get some dinner before we start tonight.”

She transferred her gaze from his face to the phone in his hand and back to his face—but she didn’t press him for info. “Dinner before we head to a bar and grill?”

His blood ran cold. Again. “God Almighty, Arizona. Tell me you don’t eat there.”

Batting her eyes at him, she said, “You think they might poison me?”

How the hell had she survived so long? “Poison you, no. At the moment they don’t want you dead. But drug you? Yes.”

“Yeah, well, for the purposes they’d intend, the two would be about the same.” She sniffed. “But no, I don’t eat there.” And then with added vitriol, “Give me some credit, will you?”

Knowing she’d just tweaked him again, Spencer growled. “Can you ever give me a straight answer?”

“Sure, and yes, we need to eat. I’m up for a burger if you are.”

“How much time do you need to get ready?”

Now that she’d blown his cool, she smiled. “Twenty minutes, give or take a few.” She indicated her face. “Gotta do it up a little to make sure I get attention.”

She’d get attention no matter what. On top of an incredible body and breathtaking face, she had enough attitude and presence to turn heads wherever she went. She breathed, and anyone with a dick would notice. “Will you promise to meet me downstairs when you’re done?”

“Cross my heart.”

He looked into her eyes, believed her, then bent and put a kiss to her forehead. “Kiss number two,” he told her.

“Oh.” She looked dumbfounded for only a moment. “Well…good. Glad to have that out of the way.”

Just to prove a point, he kissed her once more, his mouth lingering against her temple. He breathed in the soft, clean scent of her, letting his nose touch her damp hair as he absorbed her near-electric vitality.

He had Trace waiting downstairs…and maybe that was a good thing. At the very least, it served as a deterrent.

As he ended the kiss and walked away, she remained rooted to the spot. Satisfied with that reaction, Spencer opened the door and said over his shoulder, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

* * *

T
AKING
HIS
TIME
, Trace studied the motel that Arizona had chosen, making special note of each egress, including any windows that opened. He prowled the perimeter, scrutinizing the lighting, the nearby establishments, the ambiance, the traffic—and he had to admit, she had good instincts.

He circled back around to the lobby entrance to meet up with Jackson, who’d done his own surveillance. He found him standing just outside the front doors, smiling, lost in thought—no doubt about his impending nuptials.

He’d tried to leave Jackson behind, but given his close association with Arizona, Trace wasn’t surprised that Jackson had insisted on coming along.

Though Trace hadn’t wanted to admit it, he actually liked Jackson, and truthfully, it relieved him that Alani was not only in love, but with a man who could keep her safe.

Smiling, Trace clapped Jackson on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble forward.

“What the hell?” Jackson regained his balance and scowled.

“You came along to work, so clear your head, why don’t you?”

“It’s clear.” Jackson’s scowl lifted, and he grinned. “’Cept for when I’m thinking of my beautiful bride-to-be.”

“Which is apparently all the time.” Trace watched a couple head into the motel, made note of another man departing.

“Lucky for you,” Jackson said, “I can multitask.”

Together, they stepped into the lobby. “So what do you think?”

Jackson shrugged. “It’s a place I’d have chosen for myself.”

“Same here.”

“I told you, Arizona’s not a slouch in the mental works. But physically, she’s still a bitty female with more brass than strength.”

“Spencer is keeping a close eye on her.”

Jackson snorted with ill humor. “Yeah, I just bet he is.”

Hmm. Trace studied him. “It bothers you that he’s interested?” Not that Jackson should be surprised. Most single men would be sniffing around Arizona, and probably a lot of unfaithful married men.

“Not at all—unless he hurts her.”

“And if he does?”

“I’ll take him apart.” On that foul note, Jackson stalked away to peruse the interior hallways, the restrooms, the vending machine alcoves.

Trace watched him go. Since Jackson and Arizona didn’t share a blood tie, it wasn’t quite the same as what he’d felt when Jackson began chasing after his sister, Alani. But close enough to fill him with satisfaction.

The satisfaction was short-lived.

Would Spencer inadvertently hurt Arizona? What she’d gone through had left her emotionally brittle, but even the most thorough digging hadn’t uncovered anything in Spencer’s background to show him as less than a principled man. Knowing him now, Trace recognized the protectiveness Spencer felt for Arizona, and for anyone else in need.

He was a decent man, a capable defender, and sadly, since his wife’s murder over three years ago, he remained free of commitments. If he did choose to pursue Arizona, Trace had to believe he planned to go slowly and carefully.

But Arizona…well, she could tempt a saint, and no one in Spencer’s profession, with his lethal background, would ever be mistaken for such.

Luckily, Arizona’s trauma hadn’t stifled her independence or her ability to speak her mind. If she didn’t return Spencer’s interest, she’d let him know.

And Spencer would respect that.

Trace trusted that they were both adults and could decide their own relationship. But to be on the safe side, he planned to have a little talk with Spencer anyway.

* * *

W
HEN
HE
GOT
DOWN
to the motel entrance, Spencer found Jackson standing there, frightening the locals. They walked a wide birth around him, and Jackson, pretending to be inebriated, gave them plenty of reason for caution.

So that was his cover? Figured he’d come up with something that allowed him to act goofy. Jackson was one hell of a fighter, with razor-sharp reflexes and an amazing intuition. But he was also low-key, laid-back, and irreverent—which made him the polar opposite of Dare and Trace.

Trace had the vibe of a keen businessman with a deadly edge. He was a driving force that couldn’t be reined in—and no smart person would even try. He wasn’t cocky like Jackson, but he carried himself with subdued self-assurance, and an acute awareness of his own capability.

Dare, who he’d met a few times now, was quieter, very matter-of-fact and relaxed about his ability. He didn’t say a lot, and he didn’t need to.

Spencer liked them all. The more he learned of their operations, the better he got to know them, the more he approved of their methods and respected their influence.

Obviously Jackson didn’t want anyone to notice him sizing up escape routes. Shaking his head, Spencer looked around for Trace. He stood with his back to the stairs, gazing out at the parking lot. Trace seemed less concerned about being observed, almost disdainful of his surroundings.

Bypassing Jackson, Spencer headed toward Trace instead.

He knew Trace was aware of him, had probably seen his reflection in the big window, so he led off with, “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Trace continued to watch the lot. “What’d you tell Arizona?”

“Nothing.”

That brought him around. “She doesn’t know why you walked out on her?”

“She was getting ready.” He propped a shoulder on the wall. “Giving her privacy is what any gentleman would do.”

“And you’re always a gentleman with her?”

His brows bunched down over the way Trace asked that. “That’s why you’re here? Is that some sort of inquisition on my intentions?”

The slightest of smiles belied any menace. “I doubt you know your intentions at this point.”

That infuriated Spencer. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

The smile turned into a grin. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Damn it, he’d left Arizona’s room in a good mood—which Trace had quickly shot to hell.

Trace shook off his humor. “She didn’t ask you where you were going or who had called?”

“She hesitates to pry too much.” Then, recalling her interrogation about sex, Spencer rethought that. “Or maybe it’s just that she’s selective in how and when she pries.”

Trace accepted that with a nod.

With growing suspicion and tension, Spencer asked, “You want to tell me why you’re here?” Trace surely had a better reason for seeking him out than idle curiosity.

“She ran out on you today.”

The hell she had! He didn’t appreciate the way Trace worded that. “She had some shopping to do, that’s all.”

“She left without telling you first.”

“She’s independent. You know that.” Spencer worked his jaw. “I told you I had it under control.”

“You should understand something, Spencer.”

Oh, he understood all right. This was a warning. “I’m listening.”

“Jackson has accepted Arizona as family, with Alani’s blessing. Priss and Molly like her and empathize with her situation, as do Dare and I.” His gaze never wavered from Spencer’s. “She’s one of us now.”

One of us?
It was the tone more than the message that had Spencer’s temper on edge. “Meaning?”

“Meaning with or without you, we’ll protect her.”

That sounded far too close to a threat, and Spencer straightened from the wall. His shoulders bunched, and his jaw clenched. “You think I can’t? Or won’t?”

“I think men in lust sometimes let the wrong head make the decisions.”

Jackson joined them to say, “Amen to that.” He pointed to Spencer’s crotch. “No thinking with the gonads.”

Finding the warnings insulting—even if a little true—Spencer scowled. “Is this a case of do as I say, not as I do?”

Trace said, “No.”

Jackson said, “Mmm…maybe.”

On a grievous sigh, Trace shook his head. “Ignore Jackson. He’s known to embrace gluttony.”

Leaning in, Jackson whispered loud enough for Trace to hear, “He means in bed, but since I’m marrying his sister, he doesn’t want to go into details.”

And just like that, the mood lightened. Spencer rested against the wall to watch the ensuing exchange between the two men.

Trace glared. “You did get her pregnant.”

“Yeah.” Jackson sighed theatrically. “And knowing she’s carrying my baby just makes her sexier.”

Trace rudely stepped in front of Jackson, crowding him out, to address Spencer again. “For now, I’m willing to let you handle things with Arizona.”

“Gee, thanks.” He didn’t bother telling Trace that he had no intention of butting out, regardless of what any of them said about it.

“Hey,” Jackson said, his humor dwindling. “Don’t I get a vote on this?”

“You’ve done enough,” Trace told him.

Jackson opened his mouth—then grinned and closed it.