One Dangerous Night (Tall, Dark, and Deadly)
Read One Dangerous Night (Tall, Dark, and Deadly) Online
Authors: Lisa Renee Jones
One Dangerous Night
A Tall, Dark, and Deadly short story
The Prelude to BENEATH THE SECRETS
Blake’s journey begins...
6
000 word short story
***NOTE–Amazon/Barnes only allows me to set the lowest price at .99 cents
Free pricing is set at Amazon’s discretion or this story would have been a long term freebie –so for now I have to do the 99 cents.
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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
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Table of Contents
The first meeting...
Hot women, fast cars, and living on the edge pretty much summed up Blake Walker’s life for the past two years. All of which were simply diversions, ways to distract himself until he had the ultimate prize he sought...revenge. Though at the moment, the leggy brunette who’d just sashayed into Denver’s ‘The Rooftop Lounge’ inside the ritzy hotel his client had booked for him, her hair pinned up, and her sexy curves tucked beneath a prim cream colored skirt and blouse, had his eye.
Blake draped his arm on the back of the booth he was lounging in, devouring her with his eyes, while he nursed a beer he didn’t want. He’d seen enough booze and drugs in his days at the ATF to last a lifetime, enough death along with those things, to last a lifetime. No. Not enough. It would never be enough until the murdering son-of-a-bitch cartel leader, Alvarez, was ten feet under. Then there would be enough death and not a second sooner, and since that attitude didn’t set well with his higher-ups, he’d decided working with his brothers at Walker Security sounded pretty damn good. Of course, his brothers Royce and Luke weren’t keen on murder either but based on how they felt about their new spouses, he’d bet his weight in gold they’d change their mind if it had been their fiancée killed in cold blood.
The woman scanned the dimly lit modern room, taking in the carved out circular booths like the one he was in, and the mini-round tables with candles flickering on top, until her eyes found him, and he sensed a hint of trepidation in her. He almost snorted. She was working for a guy named ‘Richter’, a high-up in one of the many corporate shells Alvarez used for money laundering, and she actually seemed to size up his long dark hair and leather jacket with disdain. He knew her type, the ones who justified their work in the world they were living by hiding it beneath righteousness or naivety. In her case, she came with a dose of prickly and prim, no doubt, for effect. Oh yeah, he knew her type all right, and didn’t like them, but as her eyes met his a jolt of awareness rocked him. There was something about this woman. The idea of tearing away the mockery of her properness and forcing her to admit what she was appealed to him in a big way. After all, he needed intel, and what better way to get it than halfway to orgasm with the promise of going all the way. Get fucked or do the fucking. He wasn’t getting fucked anywhere but the bedroom, and by choice, ever again.
She tore her gaze from his and his lips quirked as she scanned the bar yet again. Despite her rather successful attempt to look uneasy, he had the distinct impression she was counting heads, like he had. He did the inventory in his head again with her. A couple in the far right booth. Another in the far left. A middle aged drunk telling his troubles to the bartender and two girlfriends chatting it up at a center table. She wasn’t naive, this one. She knew what she was doing. Finally, her attention slid back to him, her only prospect for the meeting her boss had arranged.
He arched a challenging brow at her. She straightened her spine and marched towards him. He watched her walk and didn’t hide his admiration. He wanted her uncomfortable. He wanted her to slip up and tell him things she wasn’t supposed to tell him.
“Mr. Wright?”
Blake gave a nod. “That’s right,” he joked, playing on words. “But call me Blake.” He used an alias for his last name but found sticking to his real first name was safer than not. It made little slips of tongue less likely. “And you must be-”
“Tiffany Snow,” she said, but there was something awkward about the way she said her name that made him question it being real. Of course, the fact that it sounded like a porn star didn’t help him keep his mind off undressing her.
“I thought Rachel Merit was coming.”
“She was suddenly tied up so you got me.” She motioned to the seat. “May I?”
“Be my guest.” He lifted his beer. “Drink?”
“No,” she said, slipping her briefcase and purse from her shoulder. “I don’t drink.”
He barked out laughter.
Her brows dipped. “What’s funny about that?”
“More ironic than funny considering who your boss is.”
“I wouldn’t know what that means. I’m new to Newport Industries.”
“How new?”
“One month.”
“And you were sent to meet with me? You must have exceptional skills.”
“I’m efficient.”
“How efficient?”
Her eyes, a milk chocolate brown a shade lighter than his own, held his.
“I guess you’ll have to decide that when we complete our business.”
Whoa Mama. There was an invitation if he ever heard one. So Alvarez had sent him a present to fill his fancy hotel room with. Wasn’t that something?
“I guess I will.”
Her teeth scraped her coral painted kissable mouth. He could think of a lot of places he’d like that mouth. “I understand you have a file for me?” she inquired.
The file being dirt on a certain businessman her boss wanted to blackmail, a test to see if Blake was worthy of bigger and better things. Blake would have felt guilty about just how thorough his file was if said business man wasn’t a lowlife thief.
“And you have money for me?”
“If you’re owed money, I assure you it’s in the package. I’ll just need the file first.”
“It’s in my room.”
Those lush lips parted. “Your room,” she repeated.
He leaned in closer. “Some things are better done in private. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Seconds ticked by, and the air thickened, charged. There was more to this woman than met the eye, and he found himself wanting to discover every inch of that more, and then some.
“My boss did stress discretion,” she finally said, her voice just a bit breathless.
“Well then,” he drawled. “Let’s be sure and give it to him.” He tossed money on the table and pushed to his feet, before offering her his hand to help her up.
She stared at his hand a moment, playing the cat and mouse game, oh so well. She wasn’t a mouse though, this one. More like a wildcat, he was willing to bet, and looking forward to finding out.
She retrieved her things before standing up, ignoring his offer of help.
“Lead the way, Mr. Wright.”
Oh, he intended to. If she was willing to sell her body and soul to a murdering monster for a paycheck, he wasn’t going to feel guilty about using her for everything she might have to offer.
The exchange...
They stepped onto the elevator alone, and his little would-be good-girl secretary that wasn’t, turned her back to the right wall to face him. Blake punched in the floor of their destination and leaned casually against the wall. She was wearing a thin dress and it was winter in Denver, Colorado. Where was her coat?
A couple pushed into the car just before the doors shut, separating the two of them, then backing against the wall so that they could still make eye contact. He sized up the couple – middle aged, corporate types – both wearing wedding rings he didn’t think they gave each other. He dismissed them as no threat almost immediately, refocusing on Tiffany – if that was really her name.
They might not be alone but the awareness was there between them nevertheless, that charge he’d already felt in the air intensifying with each passing second in a way he hadn’t experienced with a woman in far too long. Why it was this one he didn’t know, but he figured it was simply the high of how close he was to Alvarez. Finally, he’d found his mockery of a corporate shell, and he was inches from locating him.
Two floors passed and the elevator doors opened. Blake motioned to the newfound informant, who didn’t know that’s what she was about to be, silently letting her know this was their floor. She pushed off the wall and headed into the hallway. He joined her, resisting the urge to touch her. Not yet. Soon. Very soon.
“I’m at the end of the hall,” he commented.
“Of course,” she said quietly.
He cut her a sideways look. “Of course?”
“I’ve never known anyone to be at the door by the elevator,” she supplied. “Have you?”
He shrugged. “I never gave it much thought.” But he had. The location of the elevator for fast escape was always a consideration, as was the long walk to what was likely a one night stand, in which you question how smart your actions were. Only he wasn’t questioning any such thing. She was, though. Where she’d been cool and confident before, he sensed barely contained nerves that didn’t quite match the persona beneath the exterior he’d assumed. What was it about this woman that didn’t quite compute as right? And why the hell did he suddenly want to comfort her? He resisted the urge to scrub his jaw, aware of her beside him, of the feminine, alluring way she moved. Of the soft scent of some sort of flower – jasmine or honeysuckle – or some sweet something he’d never liked until now.
At the end of the hall, they stopped at his door to a room he’d intentionally had changed in case the original one had been bugged. Not that he couldn’t debug or defunct anything electronic he chose to, but safe was always better than sorry.
Impatience wasn’t a trait he favored, but his blood ran hot for this woman and his hand moved quickly to swipe the key. On some level, he recognized this was an invitation for trouble. He shoved the idea away as ridiculous as he opened the hotel door and motioned her forward. She didn’t hesitate. In fact, she rushed forward, seeming eager to get out of the hallway.