Trouble in Tampa (7 page)

“I thought I made it pretty clear yesterday that I’m no one’s ‘girl,’” I replied, crossing my legs and leaning back. Thankfully, I’d worn something appropriate to the lounge instead of my tank and yoga pants.

Rob grabbed the chair in front of him, pulled it out, and sat. He barely kept from falling out of it, though. “And I thought I made it clear that whatever I want, I get.” He pointed his empty drink glass at me, almost in accusation. “I want you. So that makes you my girl.”

I wanted to shake my head so badly. “You had trouble with that whole sharing concept in preschool, didn’t you?”

“No. The other kids had trouble with my concept of sharing perhaps, but I had no trouble with that.”

Spoken like a true narcissist. “Because you took what you wanted whenever you wanted it. Here you are, forty years later, trying to do the same to a young woman you don’t know anything about other than her first name and that she likes fast, expensive cars.”

Rob leaned across the table. “I know more about you than that. A whole bunch more.” He wasn’t quite slurring, which was a good sign. Well, a better sign.

“Like?” Catching the bartender’s attention, I lifted my glass. I was definitely going to need a third one.

“Like that you’re so hot for me, your panties would need changing if you wore any.” A lazy smile that made me want to gag moved onto his face.

“And because you
think
you know that about me, you assume you know everything there is to know?”

Rob drained the last drop from his glass before slamming it down. “Everything I want and need to know.”

Why did every conversation I had with him feel like some great challenge not to dry heave? Never mind. Rhetorical question.

“How did you find me?” I asked, thanking the bartender with a nod when she dropped my fresh cherry Coke in front of me.

“I can find anyone I want, whenever I want. This is my city. I own it.” As the bartender passed him, Rob grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. The dude was all kinds of physical with all kinds of women. “Be a sweetheart and bring me two whiskey sours.”

“Two?” The bartender glared at his hand wrapped around her arm. “Don’t you think you’ve already had two too many?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Rob shook his head once. “And it’s not your job to think. A girl’s thoughts are never rational or worth verbalizing. So why don’t you smile pretty, nod, and serve me my drinks like your gender was created to do?”

Wow. Okay, so there was a nastier monster hiding inside of Rob Tucker than I’d guessed. Nothing like a few too many drinks to bring out that monster.

Whipping her arm out of his hold, the bartender gave me a look that said she thought I was crazy for being the woman sitting across from him. I answered with a shrug—I was crazy. That came with the job.

“So you found me because you own this town. Got it. But explain to me why you wanted to find me so badly.” I took a sip of my fresh Coke, keeping my calm and collected act strong. I wouldn’t buckle under my emotions like I had yesterday.

“Me and you.” He waved his finger between us. “We’ve got unfinished business.”

I didn’t need to clarify what that unfinished business was—it was pretty damn clear what he was talking about.

“And until we finish this business, you’re going to pop up in every lounge I visit?”

Rob reached across the table for my hand, wrist, or arm. I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t wait to find out. I slid my hand off the table and folded my arm into my lap.

He said, “I’ll be in every lounge, around every corner, down every sidewalk, and every shadow you feel behind you until you quit this whole hard-to-get act and give in to what we both want.”

“You’re doing all of this for sex? Searching all of Tampa for me, trying to intimidate me in a bar, threatening to stalk me day in and day out . . . all because you want to get laid?” I shoved my chair back a bit, needing to put more distance between us.

“That’s part of it.” He glanced back at the bar, raising his empty glass and waving it about. If the bartender could flip him off with her eyes, she just had.

“And what’s the other part of it?” I asked.

Rob smiled crookedly. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Someone call the clever police because we’ve got a bright one here.

“Listen, Rob, let me return the favor and be frank.” I leveled my eyes with his and reminded myself he was the Errand first, the enemy second. After I finished the Errand, he could move into the number one enemy spot. “I’m good with doing the casual thing. In fact, I prefer the casual thing because I’m a busy woman who doesn’t have time for the mundane and tedious components of a relationship. Yes, I’m attracted to you, and I know you’re attracted to me.”

His eyes managed to go another shade of smug.

I continued, “But just because I don’t play by plenty of the rules doesn’t mean I don’t have any. If you want to give this casual thing between us a chance, you need to stop acting like an overbearing, chest-beating gorilla. You’re going to have to stop acting like you hold the power of where we go from here in your hands because, Rob”—I arched an eyebrow—“I’m the one who holds that power. So why don’t
you
cut the act, and let’s see where we can go from here?”

I took a deep breath. As a rule, I liked keeping my replies to my Targets short and succinct, but something about Rob Tucker made me verbally vomit. Not that he’d remember a single thing I’d said in the morning . . .

“Yeah, here’s what I heard.” He lifted his hand and made a talking motion. “Blah, blah, blah. I’m stupid. Blah, blah, blah. I don’t know what the hell I want. Blah, blah, blah. Why don’t you just shut me up and show me what I want.”

Boiling blood. One wouldn’t think it could happen so instantly.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping back with something I both would and wouldn’t regret. I also had to sit on both of my hands to keep from punching him.

“How about I tell you
frankly
what you’re really thinking?” Rob leaned so far across the table I smelled the alcohol rolling off of his breath. “You’re thinking you want to keep up this strong-girl act because that’s what Sufferance, bra-burning, and decades of ‘supposed’ gender equality has conditioned you to think. But that’s not how you really feel. None of you women really feel that way because deep down inside of you, in those little strands of DNA, you were all created to serve, and be second, and give obedience like your lives depend on it. And because so many of you bitches have gotten away with ‘equality’ for years, that genetic code is begging to be punished for your disobedience. The core of what makes you what you are won’t be appeased until you’re back in your proper place.” He didn’t blink. He didn’t flinch. He gave no indication that he didn’t believe wholeheartedly in what he was saying.

My stomach twisted before bile crept up my throat. Of all the Targets I’d dealt with, Rob Tucker was on a plane all by himself. Really, I couldn’t imagine the devil being so evil. I mean, at least he didn’t discriminate who got to hang out with him in hell.

I rose from my chair, grabbed my briefcase, and looked down at him. “I’m going now. I think there’s more than enough of you to keep yourself company.”

Rob’s hand whipped out again, faster than I’d guessed a drunk man could move. His powerful grip circled the same wrist, and my bruise pulsed with pain. “I wouldn’t recommend turning your back on me. You started this thing. You damn well better finish it,” he said.

I had to take two full breaths before I could reply. “Consider this, right here, me finishing this thing.” Lifting my other hand, I waved my middle finger at him then pulled my wrist free. It took some serious pulling, but the instant he let go, I marched for the exit of the lounge.

He didn’t call after me. He didn’t scream, holler, and threaten. That Rob Tucker let me go silently and without a fight was disarming. So disarming, I checked over my shoulder every few steps in my journey to the elevator, making sure he wasn’t hustling up behind me.

I’d never dropped an Errand, but I didn’t see how I could keep that one. Rob Tucker was clearly a dangerous man. We Eves dealt with deceitful men, but dangerous ones weren’t part of the deal. G had made it crystal clear from the start that if we ever found ourselves in a situation with a Target where we feared for our personal safety, we were to pull the plug. At that point, I wasn’t only fearful for my personal safety—I was fearful for my life.

No one deserved to be in the kind of relationship Mrs. Tucker was, but how much farther could I take it before Rob became violent with me? How much longer was I willing to take that risk? I’d taken self-defense classes, and I carried a mini collection of weapons in my purse, but no amount of skill or measure of defense could guard against a person like Rob Tucker. He wasn’t only violent—he was cunning. Violence alone was a red flag the size of the Pacific, but violence matched with intelligence was the deadliest combination known to humankind.

I knew if I called G to talk it over with her, there’d be no back and forth. She’d order me to drop the case and get back to California. She didn’t want any of her Eves in a compromising situation, let alone the one working her coveted Ten. The majority of our domestic violence Targets kept their violence within their home. To date, I’d never heard of one raising his hand to an Eve . . . yet I was one misstep away from being laid out by Rob Tucker’s backhand.

So I was at an impasse. I couldn’t just give up the Errand and wash my hands of Mrs. Tucker, yet if I kept pursuing Mr. Tucker, I was playing with fire. The kind that would literally burn me. Maybe I could hire some kind of body guard. One that hid in the shadows and only made themselves known when and if the occasion called for it . . . but that seemed like a far cry from an ideal solution.

Whatever my decision, I’d have to make it by morning because time was one of the few luxuries we weren’t allowed. Which meant I’d be getting very little sleep as I deliberated how to proceed. Good thing I’d just showed two and a half cherry Cokes how it’s done.

Speaking of . . .

Before stepping inside the elevator and heading to the top floor, I detoured to the little convenience shop in the lobby. Not that I needed any more liquid calories, but I could never get enough caffeine. Besides, I could run it all off on the treadmill in the hotel gym in the morning. After paying for another soda, a bottle of water, and a pair of nail clippers because I couldn’t seem to find the ones I kept in my toiletry bag, I trudged for the elevator. The lobby was quiet, probably because it was close to midnight.

After sliding my card key into the elevator, I punched the top floor and leaned into the wall. While the penthouses in Tampa weren’t as swanky as the ones in Seattle, my room was spacious and quiet. There was only one other penthouse, and I doubted if anyone had occupied it since I checked in.

Right as the elevator doors whooshed open, my phone chimed.
One
of my phones chimed. I carried close to half a dozen when I worked dual Errands. However, I knew the ring right away. I might have only heard it a couple of times, but it had somehow been committed to memory that quickly. It was my Callahan Industries phone, and to my knowledge, only one person had that number. Damn that smile that had slipped into place before I’d caught it . . .

“What are you doing calling me this late?” I greeted, trying to sound stern, as I stepped off the elevator.

Of course, Henry chuckled. “How is nine at night late for you?”

Great, Eve. Way to go. The first words out of your mouth are already a mistake.
Henry didn’t know I was on the East Coast and that it was just past midnight. He thought I was in California.

“Well, it’s later than where you are,” was my
So there
comeback.

“Technically, it isn’t . . . since Seoul is eleven hours
ahead
of you.”

I heard the smile in his voice, which made me imagine it, which made my own form. Again. Damn it. Damn it. DAMN IT.

“Could you tone your know-it-all down every once in a while for god’s sakes? It’s annoying.” Stopping in front of my room, I set my bag of goodies on the floor to get the door open.

“You’re already reprimanding me, and we haven’t even exchanged a proper greeting.”

I rolled my eyes and went to insert my card key into the door. “Hi, Henry.” I used as syrupy a voice as I could muster.

“Hi, Eve.” His was warm and genuine and reminded me of everything about Henry I’d fallen for so many years ago.

“Who’s Henry?”

The sharpness and nearness of the voice almost made me jolt. I hadn’t been expecting to hear that voice again, let alone on the private, restricted penthouse level.

“Eve? Who’s that?” Henry’s voice had morphed into something else—something that was a far cry from warm.

“It’s okay, Henry. I’m fine.” Turning around slowly, I dropped the phone to my side and put on a brave face.

Rob Tucker stood not even two feet in front of me, smelling, looking, and acting twice as drunk as he’d been when I’d left him in the lounge. Instead of a smirk, his face had something far more predatory.

“No, it’s not fine.” Rob stepped closer. That he could walk without stumbling indicated that he was drunk so often, he’d managed to perfect it. “But once we’re done here tonight, we’ll be a bit closer to fine.”

“Eve? What the hell? Who is that?”

I just barely made out Henry’s voice, but I couldn’t find the strength to hang up the phone. Despite him being half a world away, I felt some semblance of safety having some part of Henry with me—his anxious voice coming through a cell phone included.

“How did you get up here?” I asked, glaring at Rob.

“There’re
two
rooms up here, you know.” Sliding a card key from his pocket, he flashed it in front of me. “When I said I own this town, I meant it, sweetheart.”

Just as I reached into my purse to pull out the first weapon my fingers curled around, Rob grabbed my wrist and yanked me to him. I almost yelped but held it in. He was a predator, an intimidator, which meant he thrived off of his victims’ submission. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.