A Perfect Storm (37 page)

He had no idea what to say to that. Was he special enough to help her move beyond her awful past? Special enough that she could enjoy a normal life with him?

Or just special in this, in sexual involvement? Did she want to experiment? “Remember, I told you, whatever you want.”

“Right now, I just want to get my fill of you.”

And she could do that in one night? Because he couldn’t. He knew it, accepted it, but had no idea what to do about it.

For a good ten minutes, she kissed him everywhere, and the touch of her mouth, her small, sharp teeth, her hot little tongue, competed with the lure of seeing her like this. The silky fall of her dark hair continuously drifted over his body.

Her nipples, puckered tight, teased his skin whenever she leaned against him. Each time she repositioned herself, she gave him a tantalizing peek.

By the time she focused all her attention on his cock, he was damn near a goner.

She curled both hands snug around him, and he groaned.

Watching him, she stroked, and his hips lifted off the bed.

She gave a wicked smile of satisfaction. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” He labored for breath—and prayed she’d put her mouth on him. Through a red haze of lust, he watched her and waited.

She cupped his balls in one hand, held his cock with the other and lowered herself down across his legs.

Rubbing her downy cheek against him, she asked, “Am I being suggestive?”

“You’re being diabolical.” He shuddered as she licked him, from the base all the way up and over the head. “Arizona…”

She opened her mouth over him and drew him into the heat of her mouth.

“Ah, God, baby…” He felt the stroke of her tongue, the firm way she held him in her hand, and he knew he wouldn’t last. “Sorry, Arizona.” He twisted away.

Eyes dazed and hot, she looked up at him. “You didn’t like it?”

“I liked it too fucking much.”

“Oh.” Breathing hard, she looked down at him, still held tight in her fist. “Hmm.” She kissed him again, and he went taut from his head to his toes.

“I won’t last. If you don’t stop that, it’ll be over, and that’s not what we want.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

Slowly, he lifted one hand, and when she didn’t protest that, he cupped her cheek. “You’re breathing hard. Your face is flushed and your nipples are tight. If I put my fingers in you right now, I’d find you wet and ripe and ready. Admit it.”

She swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.”

“You want me. And I love it that you do.”

Her eyes flared a little at that word, but she remained mute.

“That means we need to finish this together.”

Again she looked at his cock. “With you inside me?”

“God, yes.”

“All right.” But she tortured him more by saying, “I’m still in control though.”

Obligingly, Spencer put his hand back behind his head.

Arizona took her time putting the condom on him. “You are so impressive, in so many ways.”

He didn’t want her under some misplaced delusion that he was more than himself, more than a hardworking guy, trying to do the right thing whenever he could. Especially with her. “I’m just a man.”

“Not even close.”

He forged on. “And right now I’m a desperately horny man.”

She laughed.

He didn’t. “I need you, Arizona. Right now. No more playing.”

Her gaze met his, and it was…profound. He felt it, whether she did or not.

“I want to be inside you.”

“Yeah, okay.” In a rush, she moved up over him.

“You need me to touch you.”

“No.” She shook her head even as she guided him in. “I just want to watch you.”

But he was big, and this way was so deep…

“All of me, honey.”

Her bottom lip caught in her teeth, she eased down onto him. Lifted again, eased down more.

“Sit down, Arizona.” Hands knotted behind his head, his shoulders, chest and abs tense with the strain, Spencer watched her, saw the heightening of her color, and though he didn’t mean to, he took over. “Brace your hands on my chest.”

She did, arms straight and stiff.

“That’s it.” His voice sounded gravelly, but he couldn’t help that. “Now put your legs out. Relax. More, honey. Yeah, let me all the way in.”

Fully seated on him, she pressed down more, grinding until Spencer couldn’t help but give a harsh groan.

“Okay, sure,” she panted. “That did it for me.”

Fighting the urge to drive up into her, he asked roughly, “What?”

“Hearing you sound all turned on.”

“God, Arizona, how could I not be?” He stared at her body, at her face. “Do you know how you feel to me? How damned good it is to see you like this, to be with you like this?”

“Yeah, okay.” She held out her arms. “You can take over. Feel free to get as touchy as you want—”

Before she’d finished, he dragged her down to him and wrapped his arms around her, touching her with his hands, his mouth, holding her steady as he thrust up feverishly…

Her nails bit into his shoulders, and she cried out.

The second he felt her coming, Spencer wanted to join her, but instead he held back.

It wasn’t easy.

Clamping his hands onto her bottom, he helped her maintain the rhythm so that she felt every single ripple of pleasure.

Very soon, he decided, it would be his turn. But this time would be different.

And it would be important.

* * *

W
HILE
IN
A
DREAMY
FOG
, their heartbeats still pounding together, feeling soft and limp, Arizona smiled. “Better and better.”

Spencer stroked her hair lazily, and then, slowly, he turned them until he’d moved over her. Still deep inside her, he positioned himself on his elbows, keeping the weight of his chest lifted off her. He watched her, his hand gentle at the side of her face.

Funny, but just like that, just because it was Spencer, she realized that it wasn’t so terrifying after all.

He kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her lips. “Okay?”

She felt the trembling in his big body and nodded. “I want to watch you come.”

He put his forehead to hers and slowly withdrew, slowly sank back in. She felt his strenuous breaths against her lips, felt the heat pouring off him.

In a way, it felt more secure, having him over her like this, covering her with his size and strength; it felt…protective, instead of controlling.

Without really thinking about it, Arizona lifted one leg around him.

He thrust a little harder, a little faster.

Incredible. She twined the other leg around him, too, and tightened.

“Arizona,” he whispered, and he kissed her, hot and languid, deep and hungry. Two strokes later, he put his head back and growled out his release.

It was pretty amazing. She smiled as her legs slipped away from him, smiled that even now, after coming, he thought to stay on his elbows.

Protecting her. Always thinking of her.

Caring for her.

Damn it, emotion got a stranglehold on her.

He took several deep breaths, kissed her neck, her mouth again, and looked at her. “You’re okay?”

Eyes closed, she nodded.

Spencer brushed her hair away, smoothed her eyebrows with his thumb. “I want you to look at me, honey. I need to see that you’re okay.”

But she couldn’t do that.

Tears burned her eyes, and she didn’t want him to misunderstand.

“Arizona?” Soft, insistent, he said again, “Look at me, honey.”

Instead, she wrapped her arms tight around him and squeezed to keep him close. “I never cried before meeting you.”

He didn’t ask her not to cry. He said nothing at all.

He just held her as he rolled to his side, tucking her in close, surrounding her with his heat, his size, his affection.

And to her mortification, it all boiled over. She heard the first sob and wanted to die. But the second sob came, too, and then more, until she was soaking his chest and shaking with racking sobs.

Somehow Spencer sat up and, holding her close in his arms, put his back against the headboard. He did her a solid by turning off the bright bedside lamp, leaving them with only the intrusion of the hall light. He pulled the sheet up and over them, one hand fisted in her hair, rocking her gently.

And he kissed her forehead, her ear, the top of her head while stroking her back, her hip, and hugging her.

Over and over again.

“God, this sucks,” she complained around a hiccupping wail.

“Not with me,” he said softly. “I’m special, remember?”

She laughed and buried her face against his throat to cry some more. Yeah, he was special, all right. So special that it was killing her, when nothing else had.

Finally, after what felt like forever, her breathing evened, and the wave of turbulence passed. Spencer shifted, reaching out, and came back with a tissue box. He offered it to her in silence.

After she’d cleaned up her face, she felt too foolish for words. “I’d apologize—”

“But you don’t need to.” He squeezed her…protectively. “Not with me. Ever.”

“I figured.” She snuggled in again and sighed. Her thoughts ran this way and that, but she couldn’t seem to nail them down. “I guess you’re getting tired?”

“No.”

“Me, either.” Against her nipples, she felt his sexy chest hair and the reassuring thump of his strong heartbeat. “Or are you just saying that, because you don’t want to interrupt my crying jag?”

“No.” He looked down at her. “And you’re not crying anymore anyway.”

“Pretty repulsive, huh?”

“No. Not ever.” He squeezed her. “And don’t say things like that. It pisses me off.”

“You cursed.”

Shrugging, he said, “And you cried. So we’re both human.”

Was that how he saw her excess of emotion? As just being human? “Well, I feel dumb.”

“Please, don’t.”

She frowned at him. His short replies were starting to bug her. “Not feeling real chatty?”

“I’m just enjoying holding you.”

Had to be a joke, right? Was that really how he felt? He wasn’t disgusted, wasn’t uncomfortable—

“Whatever you’re thinking, Arizona, you’re wrong.” He brought her face up and pressed his mouth to hers. “I’m glad that I was the one here with you, not anyone else. And I’m humbled, because you trust me that much.”

Trust, huh? Okay, so maybe it did have to do with trust. But it also had to do with knowing that tonight might be her last night with him. “So…” She traced a fingertip over his throat. “Do you feel up to a shower?”

“Sure.”

“And then maybe…” She cleared her throat. “This is awkward. I mean, after me bawling and all.”

His smile touched her forehead. “You want me again, baby?”

Perceptive men were so sexy. “Yup, that’s about it.”

With no effort at all, he left the bed while still holding her in his arms. “I’ll need an hour or so. But I figure it’ll take me that long just to kiss you all over, so we should be good to go.”

And he called her diabolical?

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

T
HE
SECOND
HE
AWOKE
,
even before he got his heavy eyes open, Spencer knew she was gone. It hit him like a tsunami of ice water.

The bed, the house, the very air felt empty.

Arizona’s vitality, the energy that surrounded her even while she slept—all gone. The void left him feeling empty, too.

He sat up and checked the time. Only nine o’clock. They’d stayed up well into the night making love, and he’d gone to sleep with her wrapped around him.

Her eyes had still been swollen from crying. Her nose still pink.

Damn it, she should have been exhausted, and instead, she’d used his exhaustion to sneak out on him. In fact…had that been her plan all along? Had she insisted on the excesses just to wear him out?

Or maybe to get her fill before leaving him?

“Jesus.” Her departure could only mean one thing: trouble. He snatched up his cell phone from the end table and punched in her number—but he didn’t get an answer, and he wasn’t surprised by that. He tried her other number. Still nothing.

Throwing off the sheet, he left the bed with his mind whirling as he tried to decide what to do first. Look the house over for clues? Call Jackson? Wait for her? What?

He yanked on his jeans and cursed again, all too aware of the yawning dread that threatened to take over. Maybe Jackson could trace her cell if she had it on. Or maybe Jackson even knew of her whereabouts.

But what if he didn’t?

The knock on his front door got his feet moving, and he bolted into the living room.

He threw open the door—and came face-to-face with Marla. Impatience boiled over. “Marla.” Regulating his voice wasn’t easy. He ran a hand through his hair and started to turn away. “I don’t have time right now—”

“It’s Arizona.”

He snapped his gaze back to her. “Tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t know. But yesterday she asked me if I’d be here this morning. She told me she might have to leave…bounce, I believe she said…earlier than she’d anticipated. She asked if I truly cared for you, if I could be trusted—”

“Where is she?”

Marla flinched.

Damn it. He held out his hands, soothing her. “I’m sorry.” It took a great effort, but he calmed his tone as he drew Marla inside. “She’s gone, and that isn’t a good thing. She has a knack for getting into dangerous situations. The sooner I can go after her, the better, so if you know anything—”

“That’s why I’m here. Arizona said she should be back by lunch, but…” Marla thrust a note toward him. “She gave me this. She said if she didn’t make it back, I was to give it to you then, but I…I admit I opened it.”

Spencer took it from her hand and unfolded it. Arizona’s handwriting was big and bold, but perfectly spaced, neat and legible.

Marla grabbed his wrist. “She didn’t want me to show it to you yet, but after reading it, even though I don’t understand it all, well, I didn’t think I should wait.”

He nearly crumpled the note. Rage chased away the despondency. When he got hold of her, and he would, he’d… “Thank you. You did the right thing.”

Marla stopped him as he again started to turn away. “Spencer?”

“What?”

“You and I…we were never going to happen, were we?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no.”

She accepted that. “Arizona said as much.” She drew a breath. “You’re in love with her?”

Oh, God.
He drew a breath. “Yes.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

“No.” He’d been such a stupid fool. But given her note, he had a little time to fix things.

“You should probably tell her.” And then in a censuring tone, “Women need to know these things.”

And Arizona needed to know it more than most. “I’ve been an ass.” He needed to call Jackson, and he needed to get on the road.

Marla nodded in agreement. “Is there anything I can do?”

He started to shake his head, then thought to say, “Call me if she shows up here.”

“Okay.” She forced a smile. “I hope it works out, Spencer. I mean that.”

“Thanks.” Damn, she really was an okay person. Arizona knew it, but then, she was a good judge of people.

Was her judgment enough to see her through the trap this morning? He prayed so.

But he’d do what he could on his end, and he’d see that the others were there, as well.

Arizona wasn’t alone anymore.

One way or another, he’d get her to understand that.

* * *

A
N
EARLY
-
MORNING
SUN
, blazing red, pierced the sky, turning hazy clouds pink and mauve and reflecting off the pavement. It’d be a scorcher, hot and humid and typical for this time of year. She wouldn’t complain. She liked hot weather better than cold.

Too many layers hindered her ability.

Arriving at the site early, Arizona drove slowly down the street, looking around for a possible ambush. She spotted Quin right away, sitting on a bench in front of “Harry’s Hocks” pawn shop. Though someone wanted her to think otherwise, she knew that Harry’s was shut down, had been shut down for a while.

So why the sign in the window stating he’d open at noon?

One possible setup.

To the right of that building, a drive-thru convenience store with a multi-locked front door and an iron grate on the one remaining window boasted bright, graffiti-covered bricks. The drive-thru window, layered in bulletproof glass, had a sliding metal tray for taking money and handing out products. But that was on the opposite side of the building, near a corner street.

To the left was an abandoned florist shop, the lot overgrown with weeds, the front sign hanging crookedly, the once-ornate script faded to near invisibility.

Beside that was a pay-at-the-pump gas station that had seen better days. Then an auto parts store, a cigarette shop, and a place that cashed checks. All were run-down, all looked disreputable.

So early in the morning, few people were out and about. Only sluggish traffic moved past, and they weren’t travelers who’d give a damn about crimes committed, petty or otherwise.

They were the “see nothing” crowd, the “mind my own business” denizens who either didn’t care, or knew better than to get involved for fear of retaliation.

On other buildings, some of them used as homes, cardboard and plywood covered the windows. Porches barely remained intact to structures. Refuse had gathered in every nook and corner.

Quin sat slumped on a bus bench in dirty clothes, his hair matted, his legs pulled up so that his face rested on his knees. Massive oak trees, their roots breaking through the buckled sidewalks, separated him from an empty parking lot, no longer used thanks to broken glass. It looked as though he’d slept there, seeking the shelter of the trees.

Had he been homeless in the recent storms?

Trying to find relief from the unrelenting sun and heat of the day?

He’d somehow escaped Dare’s net when the police closed in at the Green Goose. Maybe Quin had something to hide, something in his past that made him wary of the law, even when it tried to rescue him.

Or maybe someone else had gotten to him first.

She circled the block, then parked her car well away from the area, about half a mile down, closer to a grocery store. After locking it tight, she strolled back to where she’d seen Quin. That morning, in the dark at Spencer’s house, without making a single sound, she’d dressed in worn jeans, unlaced sneakers and a big loose T-shirt. To keep it out of her way, she’d contained her hair in a high ponytail.

The sun baked down on her head, bringing perspiration to the back of her neck, down her spine.

All along the way, she marveled at the trees. Despite the devastation of the area, there were so many of them, big and healthy and beautiful. At some point in time, the area had probably been really pretty.

Like her, time and abuse had forever changed it; it would never be the same.

Quin didn’t hear or see her approach—which made Arizona doubt any willing complicity on his part. Anyone versed in criminal activity would have picked her out several blocks away, since she didn’t bother with stealth. Shoot, trying to slide in and out of the neighborhood would mean utilizing alleyways and darkened doorways, and that’d be more dangerous than coming down the middle of the street.

After scrubbing his hands over his face, Quin pushed up from the bench to pace. Arms folded around his middle, shoulders hunched, limping slightly, he made his way nervously out to the curb, back again.

What are you up to, Quinto?

Her jeans hid the gun at her ankle. Snug against the small of her back, she felt the sheath for her knife digging in with each step she took. Not the knife Chris had just given her. No, she wouldn’t risk losing it. It was too precious to her.

She’d left it, and all the other gifts, in Spencer’s truck.

When,
if
Spencer started looking for her, would he understand the significance of that? Would he see it as a sign that she wanted to come back?

To him. With him?

No, she hadn’t taken her new knife. But various other weapons filled her pockets, some obvious, some less so.

At the moment, her best weapon was rage.

When she got close enough, she hid it all with a smile. “Hey, Quin.”

Startled, he jerked around so hard he almost fell. He froze at the sight of her standing there. Staring at her wide-eyed, something awful shone on his face, something akin to paralyzing fear.

She went still, too. He looked…ravaged. Her eyes narrowed. Her voice soft with menace, she asked, “What happened to you, Quin?”

A hot breeze sent the enormous tree limbs swaying, leaving dappled sunlight to dance over his dark skin. He shook his head without answering. “You came early.”

An accusation? His eyes looked wild, filled with fear. Knowing the gig was up, that Quin was part of a trap, Arizona shrugged. “I’m not a real trusting sort.”

Almost sick, he lifted a shaking hand to his face, and his eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

“Because?” She walked past him to the lone bench, all the while keeping watch. All of the surrounding buildings offered concealment for creeps; the danger could come from anywhere.

But if she didn’t face the danger, she couldn’t very well combat it.

“I had no choice.”

“Yeah, I figured that, ya know? I can tell the good guys from the bad. So how about we get away from here now? I could help you, if you’d let me.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Because?” she asked again.

“I…” He swallowed hard, went through an internal battle, and then blurted with remorse, “I have a sister. A young sister. She is all I have.”

Ah, that figured. “So someone’s using her to make you toe the line, huh?” Sympathy welled up, but she hid that with the rage. She didn’t have a sister. She had…no one. Well, maybe Jackson—but God help anyone who tried to use him. “How old are you, Quin?”

“Sixteen.”

She sat down on the bench. “You’re working with someone.”

His face went pale.

“I already know it. The thing is, I don’t know who. The raid you talked about at the bar? How’d you get out? How’d this other person get out? Or was he ever there?”

He shook his head. “I had no choice.”

“Yeah, I know. We already covered that, right?” She kept her senses open, alert to any intrusion of danger. “I’m not blaming you, you know.”

“But you will!”

So much fear. She understood it, because she’d felt it before. Who was she kidding? She sometimes felt it still.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have gone to Marla, trusting her to cover her ass. If this all went wrong, and it very well might, well then, Marla would tell Spencer, and he’d let Jackson and the others know, and one way or another, they’d find her.

She’d left enough info for them to easily track her.

And if she got hurt in the bargain…well, at least Quinto would be free. At least a scumbag would pay.

If she’d gone to the others first, no way would they have let her be involved. Going to the bar was enough to get their panties in a bunch. Meeting in this neighborhood?

No, they’d have nixed the deal to try something else, and while she trusted they’d have eventually been successful, what would have happened to Quin in the meantime?

“Come, sit down, Quin. Let’s talk, okay?”

Shaking his head, he took a step back.

Her senses prickled. “I’m at least an hour early, so I’m guessing we have a little time, right?”

He breathed faster. “Actually…” His dark eyes lowered. He shook his head again. “No.”

Arizona felt the shift in the air.

Oh, shit.

She sprang from the seat just as three men approached, all from different angles.