Within Striking Distance (13 page)

“I did plan to get married once,” he said. He released her wrist and raked his hand through his hair. “As corny as it sounds, she had been my childhood sweetheart. Heather and I were engaged for years, but it didn’t work out. It made me realize I wasn’t cut out for marriage.”

She took a minute to absorb what he’d said. He’d been engaged. That made sense. A broken engagement, especially with a woman he’d loved since childhood, would have had a profound effect on a man as cautious as Jake. It could have influenced his outlook as much as his injury had.

But his revelation only led to more questions. Had he loved Heather? He must have or he wouldn’t have wanted
to marry her, but did he still love her? That could be a reason he hadn’t married someone else. What had happened to break them up? How could any woman have thrown away a chance for a future with a man like Jake?

Or it could be the other way around. Jake could have been the one who had ended the engagement, yet Becky didn’t think so. There was something in his tone that hinted at buried pain. It was similar to the way he sounded when he spoke of his injury.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That must have been difficult.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I don’t normally think about it, but you wanted me to be honest with you.”

“I appreciate that, Jake.”

“But I didn’t take you away from the party so I could talk about my past.”

She glanced around. “Yes, I realize that,” she said, stepping away. “You were only trying to calm me down after my meeting with the Grossos. I’m sorry.”

“Will you stop apologizing?” He hooked his arm around her waist before she could retreat any farther. “Anyway, I didn’t find us some privacy just so you could de-stress, either.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nope.” He eased her closer. “I had another reason for getting you alone.”

“What?”

“This,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers.

At the first contact of his lips, her thoughts were submerged beneath a wave of sensation. The kiss was gentle, at odds with his grasp on her waist. She could feel his restraint in the way his arms hardened and his breath puffed hot across her cheek. Tension hummed through his body to hers, sparking from every point where they touched, yet his lips remained soft and giving.

Becky had been kissed more skillfully. She’d been kissed in settings that were far more romantic than the back of a motor home at a racetrack. She’d had kisses that were meant as a passionate prelude to sex.

Yet she’d never experienced the sense of connection to another person that she did now.

It had always been that way with Jake. The tingles she’d felt when they’d first met, and the breath-stealing thrill when he’d held her last week, were nothing compared to the pleasure of his mouth moving against hers.

He tilted his head until he found the best angle, then fitted more confidently against her, savoring the contact. He didn’t kiss as if he were still in love with his old fiancée. He kissed her as if they were the only two people in the world. Time stretched around them as he invited her to join him in this first exploration. She did. After weeks of restraining her desire to do this, she was almost giddy with the freedom of finally being able to indulge.

His lips moved into a smile as he felt her response, yet he didn’t take the kiss further. He seemed to understand that for here, for now, this was all the intimacy either of them needed.

It might not be love, but it felt right. Perfect. It felt like coming home.

Becky pulled back her head, breaking the kiss, and stared at Jake.

He smiled, touching his finger to the moisture on her lower lip. “You didn’t hit me again. I guess that’s a good sign.”

It took a moment to catch her breath. “It was nice, Jake.”

His smile turned to a grimace. “Nice? Ouch.”

She realized the word hadn’t come close to describing that incredible kiss, but it might be better not to expand on it. How could she hope to express what she was feeling when she didn’t understand it herself?

R
ALPH
B
OCCI
didn’t bother to muffle his footsteps as he strode down the hall to McMasters’s office. He knew the routine in this building well enough to know there was no one else here at this time of night. And ever since he managed to lift a skeleton key from one of the cleaning crew, getting into the office was a snap.

Not that he was going to tell the Brown witch. No, if she thought this job was getting easier, she’d probably step up her threats about talking to his parole officer. The woman must take pleasure in controlling men. How did her husband put up with her? Back in the day, Hank Brown had been hell on wheels. That’s what the word around the Shillington plant was. He’d driven for old man Shillington’s NASCAR team but had quit cold when he’d married Cynthia. Traded in his car for a desk and a piece of the family fortune. Come to think of it, the Shillington money would go a long way to sweetening any deal.

Ralph popped a fresh stick of gum into his mouth, closed the door behind him and walked to McMasters’s desk to turn on the lamp. The box of baby pictures was still in the corner—he’d looked through them on Mrs. Brown’s orders, but it had been a waste of time. So had following the guy around to racetracks. If that was all it took to be a private investigator, maybe Ralph would look into trying his own hand at it once he was through with this job. He glanced at the
storage cabinet. Yeah, maybe he’d come back on his own time and help himself to some of the equipment he’d found on the shelves in there. It must be worth a few grand. He could consider it a bonus for everything he’d had to put up with.

As usual, there was nothing on the desk that Mrs. Brown would be interested in, only some rent receipts and a few take-out slips from a diner. Ralph went straight to the filing cabinet, picked the lock and took out the Peters file. A slip of yellow paper that hadn’t been there before caught his eye so he tipped it toward the light to get a closer look. At first glance, it appeared to be just another receipt until he noticed there was a name of a laboratory on the top. He squinted to read it more carefully.

Oh, hell, he thought, pulling out his phone. The boss lady wasn’t going to be pleased about this.

She wasn’t. “A DNA test,” she hissed.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s what it means.”

“Read it to me again. Don’t skip anything.”

He did as she ordered, then waited. For once, she seemed to be at a loss for words. When she did speak again, he wished she hadn’t. “No way,” he said. “I can’t do that. I never torched a place.”

“You’ll do as I say, Mr. Bocci. Need I remind you—”

He broke the connection before she could complete the threat. It was then that he heard the faint sound of voices coming from the other side of the door. Someone was moving down the hall.

Ralph was still holding the yellow paper from the lab. He stuffed it into his pocket along with his phone, replaced the file in the cabinet and dove for the desk to turn off the light. He told himself to stay calm—it could be some of the cleaning crew who had forgotten something. There was a maintenance room at the far end of the hall. That’s probably where they were heading. All he had to do was keep quiet until they left.

Whoever was out there was close enough now that Ralph could make out a few words. It was a man and a woman, and they were talking about this weekend’s NASCAR Sprint Cup Series race. He caught the name Grosso a few times and his palms began to sweat. He wiped them on his pants and tried to tell himself that it was just a coincidence. Simply because McMasters was investigating the Grosso kidnapping didn’t mean anything. Anyone talking about NASCAR was bound to mention the Grossos.

But then Ralph heard the thud of a cane along with the footsteps. He didn’t need to look to know who was out there. Of all the rotten luck. What was McMasters doing here now? He glanced at the window behind him, but the opening was filled with the air conditioner. Even if it hadn’t been, he didn’t much like the idea of going out a second-floor window without a fire escape. He didn’t like the idea of being trapped in here, either—he’d had more than his fill of small spaces in prison.

Ralph bit down hard, only to discover he must have swallowed his gum. McMasters was a big guy, in spite of that gimpy leg, and looked like he knew how to handle himself. Ralph wouldn’t want to tangle with him. His sole hope was striking first. Nicotine-lined lungs or not, he should be able to outrun a cripple. He dried his palms on his pants again, then pulled his knife from his boot, flicked it open and crept toward the door.

“S
O
,
ARE WE ON
for the next NASCAR Sprint Cup race in Indianapolis in two weeks?” Jake asked, fishing in his pocket for his keys. The overhead light in the hall had been dimmed for the night. He had to hold up the key ring to pick out the right one.

They’d arrived back in Charlotte several hours later than they’d planned. Thunderstorms in Chicago had delayed their
departure, and once they’d made it home, the traffic on the airport parkway had been, well, parked. Yet Becky had enjoyed every minute of her time with Jake. “I’d love to go,” she said. “I don’t know whether you’d be content to watch from the stands with me. Maybe you could use your connections to get me another pass.”

“Maybe.”

“I bet Kent would give me one if you asked. I wouldn’t get in the way.”

“That’s true. You might be tall, but you’re pretty skinny so you wouldn’t take up much space in the pits.”

“I am not skinny.”

He stuck the key in the lock, propped his cane against the door frame and turned to span her waist with his hands. He demonstrated his point by tapping his thumbs together. “Slender, then.”

“That doesn’t prove anything. You have big hands.”

He tightened his grip and lifted her until her feet left the floor. “You weigh next to nothing.”

Laughing, she braced her hands on his shoulders. “And you’re showing off.”

“Uh-huh. All those bench presses at the gym have to be good for something.”

Becky curled her fingers, the better to appreciate the flexing going on beneath his shirt. “I figured that you must work out.”

“Yeah, I’m a big believer in exercise.” He lowered her slowly until her face was level with his. The tips of her toes still weren’t touching the floor. “Some forms are more enjoyable than others.”

“Oh? Like what?”

He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.

Becky knew he was teasing. Apart from their conversation at the Grossos’ barbecue, for the remainder of the weekend they’d both kept things light between them.
They’d been flirting, nothing more. So she couldn’t believe the wave of heat that raced through her at the thought of more intimate activities with Jake. Except for his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders, they were barely touching. She wanted more. Much more. “Um, Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t need to prove how strong you are. I already know that.”

“Really?”

“All I have to do is watch you move. Aren’t you going to put me down?”

His smile turned lopsided. “Seems like we had this conversation before.”

“Not exactly, but similar.”

“Mmm. I can get used to holding you, Becky. You’re not in a hurry, are you?”

She rubbed her heel behind his good leg. This had been such a perfect weekend, she was reluctant to have it end. “I have some plants that need watering, but they’ll keep. What about you?”

“Right now, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. Well, maybe somewhere more comfortable,” he said, pulling her flush to the front of his body as he leaned back against the door.

The moment his shoulders touched the frosted glass panel, the door swung inward.

Jake swore and lurched to the side as he recovered his balance. He quickly set Becky on her feet. “I didn’t turn the key yet,” he muttered. “What the—”

His words cut off as the door was pulled open completely from inside. A split second later, a stocky, dark-haired man moved into the doorway. Though the light in the corridor was poor, it was enough to reveal the gleam of a knife in his hand.

Becky cried out a warning but Jake had already shifted sideways and was lifting his forearm to block the attack. In spite of his lame leg, he’d assumed a combat stance. He yelled at her over his shoulder. “Get back! Run!”

She stumbled back a few feet to give him more space, but she had no intention of running away and leaving Jake here alone.

The man in the doorway jabbed with his weapon again. Instead of retreating, Jake reached past him to grasp the door. He yanked it toward them hard, smashing it into his assailant’s side.

The wood shuddered and splintered at the impact. The frosted glass in the upper half shattered, sending shards flying everywhere. Momentarily stunned, the man cursed and slashed wildly at Jake’s face. The blade passed within a hairbreadth of his ear.

In desperation, Becky glanced around for something she could use as a weapon and spotted Jake’s cane on the floor beside the door frame. She darted forward to pick it up, gripping it like a baseball bat.

The next thing she knew, she was knocked facedown on the floor with a crushing weight on her back. Pain knifed through her hand. She struggled to draw in a breath but the smell of stale cigarette smoke made her gag.

“Becky!”

It was Jake’s voice. She tried to respond but her reply came out as a moan.

There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Something clattered to the floor and suddenly, the weight on her back disappeared. “Becky! Are you okay?”

She lifted her head. Jake’s attacker staggered against the side of the corridor. Blood flowed from his nose. The knife he’d been wielding was on the floor at Jake’s feet. She gasped and scrambled to her knees to reach for it.

Jake glanced at her over his shoulder, his face hard. “Stay back. Don’t touch it.”

The moment’s distraction was all the other man needed. He shoved himself away from the wall and sprinted for the staircase. Seconds later, his footsteps thudded down the stairs.

Jake swore under his breath.

Becky wobbled to her feet. “Are you all right?”

He spun to face her. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” He reached out to run his hands along her arms and over her shoulders. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

Her chest ached with every breath and her palms stung but her first concern was Jake. She shook her head, her gaze racing over him. There was blood on his shirt. “Oh, my God. You’re bleeding. We have to get you to a hospital.”

He looked down. “It’s not my blood,” he said. “It’s his.”

She forced herself to focus. The front of his shirt was covered with dark splatters but the fabric didn’t appear to have been cut.

Jake pulled her into his arms. For a while, he simply held her, his breathing as ragged as hers. “It’s okay, Becky. It’s over. He’s gone.”

She nodded against his shoulder. “We have to call the police.”

“We will.”

“Who was he? What did he want?”

Jake smoothed his palm over her hair. “I don’t think he wanted to hurt us.”

“He had a
knife.
My God, Jake. He could have killed you.”

“Not really. He wasn’t very good.”

She shuddered and lifted her head to look past him. The corridor was still empty. There were no sounds from the stairs, but…“Jake, we can’t stay here!” she said, stepping out of his embrace. “What if he comes back?”

“That’s unlikely. He had no way of knowing we’d be
here tonight so we couldn’t have been his target. He probably just fought because he wanted to get away.”

On some level, she knew he was making sense, but she was having a hard time calming down enough to listen. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “You’d better sit down.”

The moment he touched her hand, she cried out. Jake caught both her wrists and turned her palms upward. Blood oozed from the base of her right thumb where an inch-long sliver of glass protruded from her skin.

“Damn, you must have picked that up when you fell. I’m sorry, Becky.”

Her stomach rolled threateningly as she looked at her injury. The light in the hall was too dim for her to have noticed it before. She hadn’t felt anything until he’d touched it. She averted her eyes and swallowed hard. “Pull it out.”

“No, not yet. It could be the reason you’re not bleeding worse. I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I hadn’t known you were behind me when I threw that guy. He landed on top of you.”

“I thought you might have needed my help…” She didn’t try explaining any further. Jake hadn’t needed her help. If she’d been thinking straight she would have remembered that he’d been trained by the Special Forces. If she’d stayed out of the way as he’d wanted her to, she wouldn’t have been hurt and Jake would probably have been able to restrain the man. She blew out a shaky breath. “It all happened so fast.”

“Yeah. Sneak attacks usually do.” He retrieved his cane and led her past the wood splinters and broken glass on the floor to guide her to one of the armchairs in his office. As soon as he was assured that she was comfortable, he turned on his desk lamp and grabbed his phone. His call to the police was brief.
Becky started to protest when she heard him request an ambulance but the look he gave her was so intense she fell silent.