A Perfect Storm (19 page)

She knew she had the attention of all three men; so did the poor boy, and it amplified his nervousness.

He licked pale, chapped lips. She recognized signs of malnutrition and dehydration, in his dry, flushed skin, the protrusion of his bones and lack of flesh, his obvious exhaustion. “We have chili and bean soup. House salad.” One skinny shoulder lifted. “Maybe a BLT sandwich.”

“Let’s see…” She pretended to think about food, when really she hoped to reel in the men. She wanted Terry Janes to approach her. She wanted him to make a move. “It all sounds so good.”

Janes sent a lackey instead.

Feeling his approach, Arizona handed back the menu. “I guess I’ll just have the salad.”

The same guy who’d sent her the drinks earlier stepped up behind her, no doubt testing the waters. “Get her whatever she wants, Quin.”

“Oh.” Pretending surprise at the intrusive voice, Arizona looked over her shoulder—and had to pull back so that she wouldn’t bump into him. He’d crowded so close, she felt the threat of his presence even though he wore a smile. “No, really. I don’t—”

“It’s on the house.” Music faded. The lights sent demonic shadows over his face as he visually caressed her boobs. “A pretty girl should never go hungry.”

Trying to be objective, Arizona decided that he wasn’t a bad-looking man. Not a troll by any stretch. But she knew who he was, what he did and what he wanted.

That made her want him dead.

“Umm…” She smiled in false appreciation. “Thank you, but…”

“I insist.” With a hand on her shoulder, he leaned in closer but didn’t offer his name. “Tell Quin what you want.”

Quin. Was that really the young man’s name? Doubtful. But it’d give her an in for setting up a contact. “If you’re sure it’s okay, then maybe a salad and a BLT?”

He bent a level look on Quin. “Bring her a piece of pie, too.”

Before the waiter could leave, she touched his arm. “Thank you, Quin.”

Haunted eyes met her gaze. He nodded and hurried off, leaving Arizona alone with the mouth-breather.

Great.

Shoring up her level of tolerance, she swiveled on the stool to fully face the douche again. Her knees bumped into him, yet neither of them moved away. He had the attitude of a man used to getting his way.

Now that he’d met her, he was bound for disappointment.

Next to Spencer, this guy looked like a complete wimp. And that brought out other quick comparisons. All around her, the usual drunks mixed, mingled or just nursed their drinks.

The creep in front of her gained power by controlling and abusing others. He gave his allegiance to a trafficker, and so did the bartender.

They were foul where Spencer was pure, and, put to the test, one on one, man to man, she knew Spencer would easily crush them all.

But cruelty gave an added edge; when a man didn’t care who he hurt or how he inflicted pain, he could do a lot of damage in a short amount of time.

Though she knew the answer, she asked sweetly, with just a touch of awe, “Are you the boss?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Pouting in mock disappointment, she said, “You seem so much like a boss that I just assumed.”

He moved to her side and leaned back, putting both elbows on the bar. The pose pulled his shirt taut over a slight gut and emphasized his scrawny chest. “Like a boss how?”

By necessity, they remained so close she could smell his breath. “You know. Very…” She smiled and allowed a slight shiver.
“In charge.”

“That’s because I am in charge.” Cocky, full of self-importance, he bragged, “I’m the boss’s number-one man.”

In a show of eagerness, she leaned closer. “You are?”

“That’s right.” His gaze settled on her mouth. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

She’d already thought about this, and said without hesitation, “Candy.”

One brow lifted, and he gave a short laugh. “I can believe that.” With one finger, he touched her chin. “You’re so sweet, I think I’m getting a toothache.”

Oh, puh-leeze. Could he be any cheesier? Wishing she could blush on cue, Arizona ducked her face. “Thank you.”

Finally, he held out a hand. “I’m Carl.”

Aha. One big fish in the barrel. “So nice to meet you, Carl.” Knowing she wouldn’t get it back anytime soon, she gave him her hand.

For a heart-stopping moment, as he lifted her hand toward his face, she thought he planned to kiss the back of her fingers. Already her stomach pitched with revulsion.

She did not want his disgusting mouth on her. Her breath stalled in her lungs, and she waited.

Instead, he examined her short, unpolished nails. “No rings? No manicure?”

Asshole. If she was a young woman down on her luck, he sure wouldn’t make her feel any better.

“No funds,” Arizona said as if confessing a sin.

“Is that so?”

A big sigh brought his gaze back to her chest. It was easier for Arizona to conceal her hatred when she didn’t have to look him in the eyes. “I’ve been job hunting, but so far, no luck.”

“You mean a woman with your classy chassis doesn’t have someone to take care of her?”

She forced a smile at the crude compliment. “I’m all alone.”

Shrewd eyes narrowed in speculation. “No boyfriend?”

“Afraid not.”

He studied her doubtfully. “I find that really hard to believe.”

Damn. She didn’t want him to get too suspicious. “It’s hard, you know? I mean, I’ve met a few good guys who were fun to be around. I enjoyed them, but…”

“But what?”

“They started to get too…well, clingy.” She toyed with the end of a lock of hair that fell over her chest. “I want to make it on my own, see some of the world, not get tied down so soon.”

Guarded, he gave her long scrutiny before coming to some conclusion. “I saw you talking to Quin.”

“I asked about a job.”

His eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”

“That I’d have to talk to you.” Quin had said no such thing, but she wasn’t about to get him into trouble. “That’s why I came back. I was hoping…well, do you need any more help here?”

Slowly, his mouth lifted in a smile. “As it turns out, the boss might be hiring.”

“Seriously?” She perked up. “So, could I meet him?”

“Maybe.” As if mesmerized, he watched the slow, playful movements of her fingers toying with her hair. “What are your job skills?”

“Well…” Speaking over the music wasn’t easy but no way would she suggest they go somewhere more private. “I’m a people person. I promise I’d work real hard. I’m always respectful.”

With difficulty, he got his attention back on her face. “How old are you, honey?”

She didn’t lie about that. “Twenty-one.”

“Hmm.” His eyes glittered in speculation. “Plenty old enough, then.”

“That’s what I keep saying!”

His big grin showed off strong white teeth. “The only job available would be waitressing.”

“Oh, I don’t mind that.” She squeezed his hand and rushed on with gusto. “I
promise
I’ll always show up on time, and I’m
never
sick. I swear that I’m a real quick learner—”

“I’ll take it up with the boss.” So saying, he glanced back at Terry Janes and nodded.

So she passed muster? Fools. She couldn’t wait to teach them both a lesson.

Quin hesitated with her food, hovering nearby but not intruding.

Carl motioned him in. “Your meal is here.” He patted her hand one last time. “Eat up, and then you can talk to him.”

“Seriously?”

He tipped up her chin. “If all goes well and he hires you, one of us will show you around the place.”

Uh-oh. She was supposed to stay where Spencer could see her. In the briefest of glances, she met Spencer’s gaze—and even in the darkness, with the crazy effect of the lights, she saw that he did not look happy.

Had he guessed what Carl said? Judging by his ominous expression…yes.

Well, he’d just have to trust her to keep herself safe, because she refused to blow things now.

She pasted on a beaming smile. “I would love a quick tour. Thank you!”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

S
PENCER
FOUGHT
THE
URGE
to bodily remove Arizona from the bar. Had she not listened to a damn thing he’d told her?

With every hour that passed, the bar got busier, the clientele more hammered. Fewer people danced now, and even the dancers at the bar grew sluggish, sort of swaying in boredom.

It was bad enough knowing Carl’s thoughts, but Spencer knew the thoughts of every other creep in the place, too. They each took turns watching her, some more subtly than others, some outright leering.

The way she sat on that stool, her heart-shaped backside outlined by the snug skirt, her long, slim, shapely legs on display…

Spencer stopped staring long enough to notice another man burning a hole in her with his hot gaze. He made no pretense of not lusting after her.

Yet another man whispered to his buddy while eyeing her, both of them chuckling with suggestive grins. Seeing their amusement stirred something dark and turbulent inside him.

He did his best to contain the primal reactions. If he went on a rampage, he’d give up the game, and Arizona might never forgive him.

Some of the men were average—clean, not too drunk. Others had probably been at the bar all day, maybe from the night before given their red-eyed, slouched positions.

One elderly drunk in particular paced the aisle mumbling to himself and reeking of booze and sweat. Another younger guy sat quietly at a small table, doodling in a sketch pad.

Spencer wanted to annihilate them all—for doing exactly as Arizona wanted them to.

Even the barmaids cast her continual glances, some of them envious, some resentful, a few only curious. Though they weren’t in Arizona’s league, the women working inside the bar were mostly attractive, if somewhat worn.

When a redhead approached him, Spencer gladly latched onto the distraction. Mature enough, seasoned enough and definitely a customer, not an employee, put her in the category of safe ground. She’d help him blend in, which would give him better opportunity to watch over Arizona without anyone noticing.

“Hello,” she purred.

“Hello yourself.” With all his attention focused on Arizona, the woman’s overblown assets and painted features didn’t interest him. But he eyed her boobs, displayed in a low-cut, sheer blouse, anyway. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Honey, you can get me anything you want.” She eased a full-size, shapely rump into the seat across from him. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Haven’t been here before.” Using the excuse of flagging a waitress, he looked around and saw Arizona attempting to engage the young waiter in conversation. She looked edgy, even a little dangerous.

Don’t rush it, honey. Don’t push.

Arizona had a natural-born tendency to defend the underdog, so Spencer didn’t trust in her ability to maintain control.

When no waitress approached, Spencer asked Red, “What’re you drinking?”

“Rum and Coke.”

“Sit tight, then.” He touched the hand she’d rested on the booth top. “I’ll get it.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He was so anxious to send a signal to Arizona, he almost missed the appreciative gaze of a barfly. At the last second, he winked at her.

After striding to the front of the crowded bar, he leaned past Arizona, being sure to touch all along her back, and spoke to the bartender. “A little service?”

Arizona looked up and back at him. Thank God she wasn’t really eating her food, was more or less moving it around the plate. She’d nibbled on a corner of the sandwich, eaten a few bites of lettuce from her salad.

The bartender eyed his stance over her and scowled. “What do you need?”

“A drink for the lady.” He nodded back at the booth where Red waited for him. “Rum and Coke.”

“I’ll get it right to you.”

“Thanks.” Easing away again, he let his body brush against Arizona. “Excuse me.”

Luckily, the young waiter had used Spencer’s timely interruption to escape Arizona’s inquisition.

But Arizona didn’t realize that yet. Her gaze went past Spencer to the redhead—and sharpened. She didn’t stare, but she took in the other woman’s attitude and appearance in mere seconds.

With her mouth tightening, she lifted her glass of tea, saying, “No problem” in an offhand way that didn’t fool him for a second.

Perfect.

Let her stew on his possible hook-up, Spencer thought, instead of breaking heads. In the meantime, he’d keep Red company while watching everyone else in the bar, remaining alert and ready to react if it came to that.

With Arizona around, it could all go to hell in an instant.

* * *

A
T
THE
EDGE
OF
AN
OLD
GARAGE
locked up for the night, Dare stood outside his rented black van and kept watch on the Green Goose. The air felt thick with the threat of another summer storm. Dark clouds swam around the moon.

The back of his shirt stuck to his skin. Mosquitoes buzzed nearby. He could smell oil, gasoline and old refuse.

The garage sat atop a rise off to the side of a rarely used bridge. It gave him the perfect vantage point. He could see everything, and if needed, he could be down to the road in under a minute.

His phone buzzed, so he dug it from his jeans’ pocket and put it to his ear. Always cautious, he said nothing.

Trace asked, “Busy?”

“Waiting. Watching.”

“It should be an uneventful night.”

But with Arizona involved…anything could happen.

Dare knew they all shared concern for her. In such a short time, she’d drawn them all in and won them over. It only took one look to see the vulnerability she hid behind outlandish bravado.

They also recognized Arizona’s genuine courage, caring and determination to make the world a better place. Despite Arizona’s rough edges, Dare liked her a lot. And he respected her.

Having her back tonight was both a pleasure and an honor. “This call is just for confirmation?”

“For Jackson. He’s prowling the floor.”

Dare grinned. Jackson thought of Arizona as a kid sister. Add to that his impending wedding and fatherhood, and Dare figured he had reason to pace. “So why are you the one calling?”

“Because I was wondering…after you saw her, what did you think?”

“About how she looked?” He shrugged to himself. “I definitely noticed.”

“Killer, right?”

He knew Trace mentioned it as a potential problem, not out of personal interest. “She’s going to make Spencer insane.”

“Probably.” Trace made a rude sound. “But he can handle it.”

“I don’t guess there’s much chance that Janes will overlook her tonight.”

“Doubtful anyone in that place will overlook her.”

True enough. Few women looked like Arizona, but she also carried herself with a confidence that enhanced her physical appeal. “That’s the point.”

In the background, he heard Jackson questioning and Trace explaining.

“Spencer’s got a thing for her,” Dare stated.

“He’s trying to deny that.”

Hmm. He couldn’t see denial doing Spencer much good at this point. “She’s got a thing for him, too.”

“More than a thing,” Trace said, “if I’m reading her right.”

“Does Spencer realize it?” In Dare’s experience, a lot of men never saw it coming. Spencer seemed sharper than most, but where Arizona was concerned, there existed a lot of emotional muck to wade through. It’d be easy to miss the signals in the middle of bigger issues.

“He thinks she’s too young, and with her past experience, he’s…wary.”

“Only an idiot wouldn’t be. But in Arizona’s case, I can’t see her age factoring in. She’s lived through enough for three lifetimes.” Down by the Green Goose, a white van pulled up, drove slowly down the alley between the buildings and around to the back of the bar. Dare narrowed his gaze. Not a delivery van, so what? “I think we have trouble.”

Picking up on his tone, Trace asked, “Any direct threat to Spencer or Arizona?”

“Not yet.” He explained about the van. “Going on gut instinct here, but I’d say the point of that nondescript van is either nabbing Arizona, or maybe to move out some of the captives.”

As much to himself as to Dare, Trace said, “Spencer won’t let Arizona out of his sight. Unless things explode, you can assume she’s still safe.”

But what about her targets? “With Arizona, chances are good that she’ll be the one to light the fuse.” And sorting victims from aggressors could be tricky.

“Maybe we should cut things short.”

Spencer knew the codes, and he understood the situation. “We’ll see. I’m moving closer, but I’ll check in later.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep Jackson here.”

Dare smiled. “Yeah, do that.” He disconnected the call.

In no time, he was in front of the bar, and through the big front window he saw the crowd but couldn’t pick out Spencer or Arizona. He parked nearby, and then, moving like a wraith from the shadows, he made his way to the back lot until he could see the van.

On silent feet he edged closer, unseen but near enough to hear the quiet exchange between two men, one a driver, the other riding shotgun.

There could have been more men in the back of the van, but Dare didn’t think so. Their conversation didn’t include anyone else.

Near his feet, a rat scurried past. Overhead, a damp breeze cut through an old sycamore tree, stirring leaves and setting branches to swaying. Through a glass pane in the back door of the bar, light spilled through, sending shadows around overflowing refuse containers and broken brick siding.

“I heard this bitch was different. Younger.” The driver laughed.
“Fresh.”

“Carl told me she’s a real prime piece.”

After a swig of beer, the driver tossed the empty toward a garbage can. He missed, and the can bounced off the bricks with a clatter. “You think we’ll get a turn at her first?”

“Don’t see why not. Once we get her under wraps, don’t know why it’d matter who gets the first taste.”

“I get dibs before you.” And then, as a complaint, the driver added, “You’re so fucking rough, you always leave them half unconscious.”

“I make them
swoon.
”

They shared a cackling laugh.

And though they didn’t know, they sealed their fates.

Dare had no doubt it was Arizona they spoke of, but they wouldn’t get a chance to hurt her.

They’d never hurt anyone ever again.

* * *

I
T
WASN
’
T
EASY
for Arizona to keep her attention off Spencer. Damn him, did he have to enjoy his cover so much? Several times now, even over the blaring music, she’d heard him laugh. Though she tried not to, she kept stealing discreet peeks at him. Over the top of the booth, he leaned close to the woman, close enough to kiss. Hands entwined, feet together under the table, gazes intimate…

“Did you want coffee to drink with the pie?”

Arizona let her gaze skim the rest of the room as if the bar in general interested her, not Spencer in particular.

She turned back to the young waiter. “No, thanks.”

He began gathering her other dishes.

To keep him close and hopefully engage him, she asked, “Is your name really Quin?”

He faltered. “It… Yes.”

She tipped her head. “Doesn’t sound Hispanic.”

“It’s short for Quinto.”

Ah, so it was his real name. “Is it always this busy, Quinto?”

He shrugged warily. “This time of night, yes. Weekends are busier.”

That he’d strung so many words together surprised and encouraged her. So far, he’d been hustling from one customer to the next without a break and without much conversation. “You work the weekends?”

“Yes.”

“What nights are you off?”

He seemed to miss a beat, his gaze skittish, his mood more so. “It changes.”

Sitting forward, Arizona folded her forearms over the bar. “You like working here?”

His attention skipped toward Carl. Both he and Terry Janes had moved around the bar, talking quietly with patrons, watching their workers from different angles, occasionally going into the back toward the offices. All in all, they’d made it tough for Arizona to keep track of them.

But Quin knew right where to find the most immediate threat, and that was Carl. He licked his lips. “I need to get back to the kitchen.”

Thirsty customers kept the bartender busy filling glasses, and a discreet exchange of funds for drugs occupied Carl’s attention. Arizona didn’t see Terry Janes, but she did only a cursory scan of the area.

She didn’t want to chance losing this opportunity. “So, Quin.”

He gave her a cautious look of inquiry. “Yes?”