Savor the Danger (25 page)

As if he hadn't been sleeping at all, he said crisp and clear, “Where are you?”

Watching every car that passed, every man who peered at her, Arizona laughed. “You're a broken record, you know that?”

“I want to see you.” Rustling in the background interrupted that command. She heard Jackson shush a sleepy-voiced woman.

His new honeypot.

Arizona curled her lip. “Am I interrupting?”

“No. Where are you?”

Relentless. “Actually, stud-o, I'm heading out to meet you.”

Paying no attention to the pet name, he asked, “Now?”

Arizona could almost picture him looking at the clock. “No time like the present, right? Unlike
some
people, I don't have a warm body beside me to keep me lazing in the bed.”

He ignored that, too. “Where?”

One car moved past slowly, and even though Arizona couldn't see into it through the windows, she tracked it until it went out of sight. Her senses prickled. Déjà vu? She didn't recognize the car, but she recognized
something.

Absently, she said to Jackson, “I was thinking of the all-important backup plan.”

“How long?”

Even with the car out of sight, her senses continued to prickle in an alarming way that somehow had nothing
to do with danger. “When did you become a man of few words? Or is it that your little tootsie is listening in?”

“How long, hon?”

Oh, how that voice did her in. Jackson was the only man she knew who treated her like a very special kid sister. Even her father had never shown her that same simple acceptance. But then, her father had been a weak, sick fool. He hadn't deserved her mom.

He hadn't deserved her.

Jackson wasn't weak. And unlike most men she knew, he didn't want her as a woman. He only wanted her as a…responsibility. Sometimes a friend. But never anything sexual.

It confused the hell out of her. It also freed her to show all the affection she wanted to give. To Jackson.

He wouldn't misunderstand. He wouldn't take advantage of her own weakness. Pressing a fist to her heart, she cursed low.

“Arizona?”

She shook her head to clear it of overly sentimental slush. “Let's say a couple of hours, give or take fifteen minutes, okay?” She was less than half an hour from his apartment, but she had the sudden urge to cause a little chaos. Violence always cleansed the remorse.

She flexed her fingers, clenched a fist and continued, “Later, baby.”

He tried to protest, but she shut the phone and ignored it when he called back. What was she? A child who needed constant supervision?

If he knew what she planned, he'd have a conniption, and that'd ruin half her fun.

Pausing at the open door to the bar, she peered past the smoke and darkness and saw the same depressing sights as always. Men slumped at dirty round tables. Others
hung over the bar, cradling their drinks like lifelines. Some staggered about, and a few even looked sober. But it wouldn't last.

She needed to do nothing more than walk in, and one of the foul bastards would get grabby.

It never failed.

Anxious for the relief of mindless violence, she started in—and a noise to her right grabbed her attention. Something moved, the scratching of sluggish feet, metal scraped, paper rustled.

Curious, she headed toward a dark alley that ran between the bar and a closed novelty shop. Out of nowhere, a man appeared beside a trash bin. Tall, strong. Shoulder propped against the brick wall, head held just so.

On the ground nearby lay a crumpled body.

Well, well, well. What had happened here?

Arizona tucked in her chin and studied the scene. Thanks to a faulty streetlamp, she couldn't see the man's face, couldn't read his expression.

But it didn't matter. On a gut level, she recognized him all the same.

Affecting a stance—arms crossed, hip cocked out— Arizona smiled. “You stole my wallet.”

“Yeah, I did.” Spencer dug into his pocket, produced the slim wallet and, holding it out in front of him, started toward her.

The urge to flee came alive inside Arizona. Her heart raced, and her palms went damp. Pride demanded that she hold her ground. She nodded at the fallen body. “Is that one dead?”

“He was following you. I knocked him out.” His big shoulder lifted. “I got him good, but I think he'll live.”

“Oh.” Closer and closer he came. “Why'd you do that?”

“Knock him out?”

“Yeah.” She curled her lip. “What's it to you?”

“Hell if I know. Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He kept stalking closer.

“You weren't playing the hero, were you?” One gallant in her life was enough; she couldn't stomach two do-gooders.

“God forbid,” he said with mocking good humor that rubbed her raw. He was so damn big, so imposing.

She kept herself still with sheer grit. When he was less than ten feet away, she snapped, “That's far enough.”

Hands out to his sides, he stopped. “Take it easy, okay?”

No, it wasn't okay. But she needed her wallet back. Her phone, too, if he had that. “Why don't you just—” He tossed her the wallet.

Stupidly, she made an automatic grab for it, and he was on her.

She swallowed back a shriek of surprise as he locked her against him with the same damn hold he'd used before. Her back to his chest, her toes off the ground, his strong arms around her.

Helpless.

She ground her teeth together but said nothing. Damn it, she knew better. What was it about him that blew her edge?

“This is better, isn't it?” He didn't wait for her to answer; he backed them both deeper into the shadows and finally stopped near the alley entrance. “Now, I have some questions for you.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He tsked. “You kiss your momma with that dirty mouth, little girl?”

The jibe cut deep. “She's dead, so that'd be pretty
damned gross, wouldn't it?” The hurt closed in on her, making her eyes burn. It wasn't easy, but she tried not to pant.

Silence thrummed between them, until he said quietly, “I'm sorry.”

Oh, God, he
sounded
sorry. The urge to struggle nearly overwhelmed her, but she knew it wouldn't do her any good. She had to wait for an opportunity.

In steady, even breaths, his chest expanded against her back, lulling her…comforting her.

Robbing her will.

Where his muscled arms crossed over her body, he squeezed the tiniest bit—almost like a hug.

She hadn't felt a hug in so damn long…

She hated it. She hated him.

She bided her time.

He'd make a mistake. They all did.

Sounding accusatory, he whispered, “You really shouldn't be here.” Against her backside, she felt the rise of his excitement.

The tiny thrill she felt was surely confidence. “Perv.”

Warm breath brushed her temple. “That's justified.” Voice hoarse, guilty, he said, “I'm sorry for that, too.” His nose touched her hair, he inhaled—

Taking swift advantage, Arizona delivered a brutal head butt that made his arms go slack. This time she turned more quickly, and her knee landed with precision.

Mouth open, expression blank for an instant in time, he said, “That was…” Groaning, he dropped hard to his knees and rasped, “Unnecessary.”

“
You
shouldn't be here.” Hands fisted, body alive with rampant and conflicting sensations, Arizona railed. “Why are you? What are you up to?”

He held himself and groaned.

What he'd wanted with her, she didn't know, but she wasn't an idiot. He was far too big, too skilled and strong for her to take on. Any second now, he'd regain his breath.

And after crushing his boys, she imagined his good will would be long gone.

Making a strategic retreat, she snatched up her wallet and ran back to her car. In seconds she was locked inside. Seconds after that, a grim smile in place, she fired up the engine.

Spencer hit the passenger door window with a furious curse, but she shoved the car in gear and stomped the gas pedal. In the rearview mirror, she saw him jump away from the car to keep from being run over.

Her tires squealed. Rubber burned.

She couldn't get far enough away, fast enough.

He wasn't like the others, and she wanted no part of him.

But not for a very, very long time had she felt so…awakened. The numbness of pain and betrayal and hatred that usually pervaded her soul and kept her going against exhaustion both physical and mental, now waned under a strange pulsing heat. Her arms tingled. Her stomach fluttered.

Ah, God. Not good.

No way would she meet Jackson at the designated spot, not when trouble followed her. It'd take her another hour to get close. He wasn't in town, she knew that.

Instead of hitting up the abandoned warehouse as prearranged, she'd go to his apartment. She'd hole up there until she knew for certain that she'd thrown anyone who might be tailing her.

And if she couldn't be sure, well then, she'd call it off. Jackson would know what to do.

Unlike her, he never fucked up.

Unlike her, he was really something else. Something good. Funny and noble and possessed of an innate honor forever out of her reach.

She would always do her best to help keep him that way.

B
EING SURREPTITIOUS,
Jackson checked the phone. The code showed calls from both Dare and Trace, confirming that not a soul had followed them from Dare's home to his apartment. He perused the parking area and saw mostly familiar cars. At six in the morning, few people were around.

“When are you going to meet Arizona?”

“I don't know.” He struggled with his conscience. Alani wanted him to confide in her. She didn't have a clue that he, Dare and Trace were deliberately keeping her in the dark.

It didn't feel right. Sure, she knew Arizona had called. She knew he'd try to help her.

She didn't know that she had an unwitting role in setting a trap.

He turned to look at her. “She'll call again.”

“And then you'll go to meet her at a secret place?”

He couldn't answer. He didn't want to lie to her.

“Alone?”

He reached for her hand. “Let's get inside, then we'll talk.”

She held back. “That sounds ominous.”

“Everything's fine. I have some explaining to do, that's all.” He didn't want to betray Trace or Dare, but more than that, he didn't want to betray Alani's trust.

This morning she'd dressed in another of her classy
outfits, and it turned him on. There was something about the understated wrapping on such a sexy package that stirred him on a gut level.

He knew how she looked under that demure sundress.

He knew how she burned for him.

Keeping watch as they crossed to the front door of his ground-level apartment, Jackson listened to the clicking of her low heels on pavement, the distant whine of a siren, the chatter of birds in the trees.

Somewhere out there, Trace and Dare had set up, Trace ahead of him, Dare behind. She would be safe.

“Here.” He handed her the front door key while he turned to study the surrounding area. He knew the location by heart, every possible vantage point, every place to hide. Only an idiot would live somewhere without knowing, and he wasn't an idiot.

Big trees shaded the apartment complex, offering concealment. He scrutinized each and every one.

Shaking her head at him, Alani unlocked the door. Jackson stopped her from going in, reaching in around her to turn on the light switch.

This was where he'd first made love to her.

Sensations bombarded him—and judging by her expression, they hit her, too.

“Come on.” A hand at the small of her back, he brought her inside, then relocked the door. “Wait here.”

Doing a quick, cursory check of the place, he ensured their privacy. He knew Dare and Trace had been through his place with a fine-tooth comb, but they'd left his belongings undisturbed. Few would ever know they'd been there.

Jackson saw the subtle signs. Too bad they hadn't found
anything to help with the identity of the woman who'd drugged him.

When he came back into the living room, he found Alani standing beside the door, her face flushed, her gaze warmed with expectation.

“Memories?”

She nodded and looked beyond him to the hallway that led to his bedroom.

Rather than approach her, he propped a shoulder on the wall. “Bad?”

“Not at all.” Gathering herself, she looked around. “Your apartment amuses me, Jackson.”

He surveyed the decorations that mostly consisted of the naked female form. He now knew that none of them held a candle to Alani. “You weren't amused before.”

“I was jealous then.”

His gaze zeroed in on her. “Of artwork?”

“Of your interest in other women. Of your experience.”

“Yeah?” He rubbed the back of his neck, shrugged. He couldn't very well deny that for most of his life, he'd been a glutton and then some. “I told you. Sex made some shit easier to deal with.”

“It was an escape mechanism. I know.” She dropped her purse on a table and came to him, sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck. “Now, I have to admit that I appreciate your experience.”

“No kidding?” He looped his hands around her narrow waist.

“Of course.” Her smile held new self-confidence. “After all, I've been the beneficiary of all you've learned.”

“All I've learned? Not yet.” He dragged her in closer. “But I'd be happy to show you—”

His phone made a quiet beep.

Shit.

Keeping her close, he said, “Hold that thought,” and drew out the cell to see the code. Visitor.

At this time of the morning? He took Alani's arm and drew her away from the living room and into the kitchen. “Stay put.”

“But—”

Pressing her up to the wall, he kissed her hard. “Someone's coming up. Don't move. Promise me.”

He saw it in her eyes: she wanted to ask a million questions. But instead, she nodded. “All right.”

Amazing, sensible, understanding Alani.

He hesitated. She'd almost sidetracked him with that teasing confession, but he had to come clean with her, and soon, especially now that she knew he had gotten the code. “We'll get to that talk in just a minute, okay?”

She nodded. “Be careful.”

Jackson turned to go back into the living room, turning out the lights as he moved. With the sun on the rise, an intruder wouldn't need the lights to see, but at least the apartment would be in shadows.

He'd just reached the door when he heard a quiet scraping sound.

His brows shot up. Someone was trying to pick his lock! So not a visitor, after all. But then…why hadn't Dare or Trace told him?

The lock clicked, so whoever wanted in had some skills.

Moving beside the door, he waited—relaxed, ready, even anxious—and as the doorknob turned, he jerked it open and yanked the “visitor” inside.

Of course, he saw right away that it was Arizona.

But she didn't see that it was him.

He dodged a fist, a kick, an elbow.

Damn it. He didn't want to hurt her. “Arizona!”

She paused in midswing, drawing up short of punching his crotch.

Jackson stared at her. Then exploded.
“Are you out of your freaking mind?”
What if it had been darker, or his reflexes weren't as good? What if he hadn't realized it was her? He might have struck her, and she was so fundamentally female that a shot from him would have put her out of commission—maybe for good.

She breathed hard. By small degrees, surprise left her face, replaced with a blinding smile.

He saw her intent and thought,
Oh, hell,
seconds before she launched herself into his arms with a squealing, “Jackson!”

She didn't just hug him. No, not Arizona. She threw her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck and all but smothered his face in her boobs as she hugged him with all her strength.

His damned reflexes had him catching her by the ass so she wouldn't fall.

“I didn't know you were here.” She kissed him all over.

“Arizona—” Aware of Alani, silent and watchful in the background, he tried to pry her away. “What are you doing here?”

She allowed him to set her back on her feet. Hands on her hips, she flipped back her long dark hair…and her smile slipped. “I didn't know you were here, Jackson.” And then with growing accusation, “Why the hell are you forever switching cars?”

She looked frazzled and a little scared, when nothing ever scared her. “You know why.”

Disgruntled, she crossed her arms. “Well, it makes it really tough to know when you're lurking around.”

“Lurking in my own apartment?”

“I thought we were meeting at the warehouse!”

Just as annoyed, he leaned into her space. “But you came here instead and now all my plans are screwed.” Uh-oh. He hadn't quite meant to say that just then. He looked up and found Alani staring at him with surprise, amusement, and if he didn't miss his guess, tenderness.

What the hell was there to be tender about?

Arizona followed his gaze, and her jaw dropped. “You have
got
to be kidding me.”

He did a quick and unnecessary introduction, then cautioned, “Be nice, Arizona. I mean it.”

“Right. Got it.
Nice.
” She nodded toward Alani. “So you're here, instead of there, because God forbid Girlfriend gets anywhere near the fire?”

Jackson bent down to blast her with his ire. “The same would go for you if you'd ever listen!”

She sniffed. “You weren't supposed to be here.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“I wanted to be alone.”

And just like that, his anger, his attitude and his heart all softened. Gruff, he insisted, “You're not alone. Not anymore.”

“Yeah, I know. I get that.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Thanks.”

Jackson's eyes narrowed.

“But the thing is…” After glancing at Alani, she huffed in exasperation. “I think some dude might've followed me here.”

Jackson's back went straight. Impossible. Neither Dare nor Trace had spotted a tail on her, or they'd have already let him know.

Almost as he thought it, the phone made a sound, and he knew, he just
knew,
what the message would be. He glanced at the cell and wanted to groan.

Another intruder, creeping in from the side of the complex.

“Get in the kitchen with Alani.” He started toward the door.

“Yeah…not happening.”

No.
No, no, no.
Brought up short by her stubbornness, he slowly turned to face her. “Arizona,” he warned in a forceful growl. Her presence here at his apartment had not been part of the overall plan. He had to reconfigure with Dare and Trace, and the more he wrestled with her overblown bravado, the less control he had.

“I wouldn't have brought trouble to your door!” Arizona insisted. “But I thought you were elsewhere, and that you'd go straight to the warehouse. I thought I'd have time to clean up this mess by myself. I still can—”

Unwilling to waste more time, Jackson lifted her by her upper arms, ignored her protests as he carried her forward, and plopped her back down in the kitchen beside a very silent and wide-eyed Alani.
“Stay.”

“Jackson,” Alani protested. “Really.”

When he turned away, Arizona caught the back of his shirt. “Wait, damn it!”

He didn't have time for this. “It's all right, Arizona. Be quiet.” And then to Alani, “Keep her in here.”

“Ha!” Arizona shot Alani a dirty look.

Alani asked, “How exactly do you expect me to do that?”

Women. He sighed, gave an eye roll and ordered, “Stay in the kitchen. Both of you.” He pointed at Arizona. “I mean it. Take one step out of here and I'll—”

“What?” she challenged. “What will you do? Send me to
college?
”

Of all the…

Alani cleared her throat. “I'm not a fighter, Arizona, so truly, I'd appreciate it if you stayed here with me.”

Swinging around to stare at her, Arizona said, “Is that a joke?”

“No.” She scooted closer to Arizona. “I'll feel much safer if I'm not alone.”

God love her. Jackson smiled at Alani, gave a nod of approval over her innovative persuasion and went to the door. Behind him, he heard Arizona grumbling.

But she didn't follow him.

Peering out the door of the apartment, he saw no one, so he slipped out.

He'd rather have a confrontation away from the women, so they couldn't be drawn into the violence. He took a step to the side of his door—and almost ran into a man.

They both took an aggressive stance.

Because they remained so close to the front door, Jackson knew the women could see them, but he didn't take his gaze off the man. If this had to happen in front of them, well, he trusted Alani to control Arizona. Somehow.

“Now just hold on,” the guy said, his hands out, but his caution and suspicion obvious.

Jackson smiled—and the other guy, correctly interpreting that look, withdrew a gun.

Arizona said, “No!”

And Alani said, “Trust him.”

Yeah, trust was an important thing, and it went both ways. He nodded at the guy. “You actually think you'll get a chance to use that?”

The other man, who stood damn near six-and-a-half
feet, glanced around the area, then lifted his brows in surprise. “Backup?”

Jackson didn't bother to answer that.

“Shit.” Maneuvering to the side of Jackson, the guy looked in the door. “She's in there?”

She who? Alani or Arizona? “Fuck off.” Knowing Dare, Trace or both would cut the man down before he could get off a shot, Jackson bided his time.

“Arizona,” the guy called out. “You okay?”

That stalled Jackson. They knew each other? He didn't relax his stance, but he did reevaluate.

Arizona stomped up to the doorway, with Alani not too far behind her.

“Get back inside,” Jackson ordered.

Ignoring him, Arizona glared at the armed man. “What are you doing here, Spence?” she demanded.

“Spencer,” he corrected.

Incredible. Jackson didn't take his attention off the big man, but their greeting confirmed that they knew each other.

It didn't explain why the guy was armed, at his door or so conspicuously present during a sting.

“You're still being followed.” And then with his gaze locked on Jackson, Spencer asked, “You know him?”

Arizona nodded. “Yeah, and if you're thinking of shooting him, I'd think again.”

“Why?”

“For one thing, it'd just piss him off.”

The guy hesitated, then shook his head and lowered the gun. “That mouth of yours.”

Feeling like a dupe in a play, Jackson kicked out, hitting the guy in the chest. The big man staggered but didn't fall, and he didn't drop the gun.

“Jackson,”
Arizona wailed.