Sweet Seduction Stripped (4 page)

Who would have thought the hacker geek was such a looker?

I smiled back at him. It was instinctive. The pull magnetic. I simply couldn't resist.

"Fuck me," he muttered. "So fucking young," he added with a shake of his head. I frowned.

A huff of breath left him as he offered an amused smile to cover his faux pas.

"Amber," he said at last. "I don't work for your boyfriend."

My returning grin slowly fell. The reason why I was hiding in a noisy, drunken, Irish Pub crowd came rushing back in, banging painfully on the insides of my head and chest. The distraction Ric caused me had barbed claws; it hurt to be reminded that I shouldn't -
couldn't
- trust anyone right now.

"Sweetheart," he said in a rumble that somehow was heard over the music from the band. "I'm one of the good guys."

I leaned back further in my chair and narrowed my eyes at the man. Good guy? Oh, no. I knew a bad-boy when I saw one, and now I knew exactly what I should do.

I gathered my resolve and prepared to walk away.

Like I should have walked away when I first met Jaxon Harding.

Like I was walking away right now.

His hand gripped my upper arm before I'd made it anywhere near the doorway. I tried to jerk free, but his hold was like a steel band. Burning my bare skin. I glanced down to where he was gripping me, noting it was the hand with the dragon ring. There was a tiny ruby set in the dragon's eye. It seemed such an inconsequential thing to focus on, but with my heart pounding in my throat and my brain all but shut down, I kept staring.

Ric leaned in, hot breath washing over my earlobe, and said loud enough to hear over the band and pub crowd, "Don't run."

My eyes shot up to his. Concern and, oh God how I wanted to believe, genuine worried looking green stared back at me. My breaths rushed out in uneven pants.

"You're scared," he said. "I get that. But I'm not the enemy. I promise."

My head shook as I tugged on his hold of my arm, frantic to escape the sincerity I wasn't sure I could trust in that compelling gaze.

"Amber," Ric pressed, "I need your help."

That made me stop struggling, stop breathing, stop moving at all. I stared up at him, realising he was just as tall as Jaxon, maybe not as wide in the shoulders, but equally as omnipresent. I had a bad track record, I knew that now. Attracted to large, powerful, confident men. Bad men. Ric's proximity made me want to lean forward and smell his cologne, and run away screaming in equal measure.

"My help?" I found myself asking.

He nodded, and then gently led me back to the table where his beer still sat. I was surprised no one had stolen our seats, the pub was almost overflowing. Which was why no one noticed our little scene. Too busy drinking and having fun.

Suddenly I wasn't so sure if my chosen location was a good one anymore.

I sat down, my legs too shaky now to make a successful escape. Crossing my arms over my chest I stared at Eric as he too sat, eyes on me - as though he was waiting for me to enact that escape. We both knew it would fail. He'd just haul me back again.

God, I needed to change the way I viewed the opposite sex. Why couldn't I have been attracted to an accountant? Why couldn't Ric have been a stereotypical hacker geek?

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet, then slipped an ID card across the table's surface toward me. I hesitated only briefly, then curiosity, that bitch, had me snaking out a hand and picking the little plastic card up. It was a private investigator's license. Ric's name was indeed, according to this, Eric. Eric Arthur Shaw. He was also thirty-one years old.

Yeah, my track record was
bad.
Attracted to older men. That's me.

My eyes scanned his face, his physique, his clothes. He sure as hell didn't look thirty-one. He looked stunning. Edible. Hot.

A flush washed up my cheeks and I returned my attention to the card in my hand. It said he was employed by Anscombe Securities and Investigations, Broadway, Newmarket. He hadn't been lying when he mentioned his workplace being just up the same road we were on.

"What does this mean?" I asked, pushing the card back to him across the table. His fingers brushed mine when he reached for it. A spark arced between them, making me suck in a breath of air as his eyes shot up to mine.

Holy fucking shit. The green had darkened, almost a black. Sexy as fuck.

And bad. Very bad. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest defiantly. I would not be ruled by my hormones.

Ric's eyes shot down to my breasts. His lips curved up in an appreciative smile. He didn't look away for what felt like an eternity, and then he moved back, effected a relaxed pose and took a gulp of his beer.

I'd remained motionless. Prey caught in the sights of a predator.

Unfortunately, it turned me on.

I was a complete and utter lost cause. Running from one bad-boy into the cross-hairs of another.

"It means," Ric started, "that I know exactly what type of man your boyfriend is. I know the danger he brings to your door. And it means I'm ideally suited to help you escape him."

My chest tightened. Could this be a trap? For all I knew Ric was making this whole PI thing up, and was actually on the payroll of C&C. Was Jaxon testing me?

"What makes you think I want to run?" I asked, cocking my head to the side and studying him.

Frown lines appeared in his forehead as his eyes narrowed on me. He spun his near empty beer glass absent-mindedly in his hand as he held my stare.

"Gym bag in your car," he said softly. "You packed in a hurry. Bank accounts emptied. You needed the cash. Middle of the night, and I know for a fact Harding's at Champagne & Chandeliers back on Queen. And here you are heading in the opposite direction. You're pale, you've been sweating, panicked. Those big, beautiful, melted chocolate eyes too wide, your hands shaking every now and then."

Then he added in a growl, "And you've been biting your bottom lip, chewing on it." With that he reached across the space between us and ran his thumb along the bottom curve of my mouth.

I was so shocked, I froze. His hand pulled away in the next instant and I almost followed it. Instead I tightened my arms over my chest and lifted my chin in challenge.

"H..how do you know all that?" I demanded, cursing the tell-tale stutter.

"Private investigator, sweetheart. It's what I do."

"How long have you been watching me?" I felt my face blanch. Had he befriended me on that forum because of who I dated?

I let a shaky breath of disappointed air out. Then rubbed at my temples, trying to ward off the headache that had begun.

"I only found out who you are tonight, Amber. Up until you tried to hack me, you've always just been Dancer to me."

I lifted my eyes to his, he held the gaze determinedly, as if trying to convey the veracity of his statement with a look alone.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table's surface, lacing his fingers together as he went on.

"What I don't understand is why you stopped here? Why not keep running? Why here?"

I didn't say anything. I didn't move. Just stared at him and tried to decide if this was happening. If this man, who I had thought I'd known on-line for the past few years, could be the answer I'd been searching for tonight. I wanted to believe he was everything I had thought him. But hell, he'd proven this evening how freaking good he was at what he did.

Multi-layered re-routing, some the most impressive code I've seen in quite a long time. Hijacking my
secured
laptop with apparent ease. He knew my name. My address. Who I lived with, where he worked. I had to assume he knew that I worked for C&C as well.
And
he'd been in my bank records this evening, after Jaxon had cleared them out.

It wasn't looking promising for Mr Eric Shaw.

And my time was running out. The night getting later and later, before too much longer Jaxon would check on me and find me gone.

"Trust me," Ric whispered.

I sucked in a deep breath and looked around the pub. Nothing had changed. Still loud, rowdy and pissed.

"I can't," I said a little shakily. Too much was at stake. "I have to get home," I added, moving to my feet.

Eric stood as well, surprise briefly crossing his face. He hid it well, but I saw it before he replaced the expression with a neutral one instead.

"Look," he said. "Just think about it. Here's my card."

He pulled a business card out of his pocket and then bent down to the table to write an address on the back. Standing upright, he held the card out for me to take. I paused, licked my lips and then snatched the card up, flipping it over to see what he had written on the back.

Sweet Seduction on High Street.
That was it. What the fuck?

I frowned up at him.

"It's a café," he explained, still not making any sense. "If you need me, but can't phone or get in touch safely, then go there. Harding will think you stumbled on the place by accident, but you can be damn sure he won't follow you inside."

"Why not?" I asked reflexively.

"Because it's linked to ASI." Then when he saw my frown deepen, he added, "Anscombe Securities and Investigations. Who I work for."

"And Jaxon knows your firm?"

He nodded. I immediately handed the card back.

"I can't have that on me." Desperation to be rid of the evidence made me shove the card in Ric's hand before he was ready to accept it. He rushed to catch it before it hit the floor.

"OK," he said slowly, once he'd contained the wayward piece of card. "Just remember, Sweet Seduction on High. Go there and I'll get to you as soon as I can. You'll be safe inside."

I didn't respond. Words were beyond me now. I knew if I was going to return to the apartment, I needed to hurry up before Jaxon missed me. Once he realised what I was planning, all hell would break loose. His threats this evening proved how far he would go. The encrypted file filled in the rest of the blanks.

And meant I wouldn't be escaping tonight. Dad depended on me. And I didn't have an answer regarding his safety and mine.

Fear at returning to the place I had called home just this morning made me clutch my stomach and stagger slightly. Eric swore and rushed around the table to steady me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against his side. I ducked my head and pressed my cheek to his chest, inhaling deeply.

It was automatic, natural. Instinctive. And so very wrong.

"Dancer," Ric whispered into my hair. "Let me help you. Please."

"I can't," I said, the words muffled by his shirt and jacket.

He reached down and placed his thumb and finger under my chin, lifting my face up so our eyes met. And held fast, glued to each other. I was thinking perhaps he was as mesmerised as me. Or at least I'd like to believe so.

"Be careful," he said with meaning. "I don't know how much you're aware of, but even if you know some of what he is capable of, double it. Triple it. Be prepared. He hasn't remained hidden for so long without getting his hands dirty to achieve it. He's a very bad man."

And now my panic had sky-rocketed. Making me taste a tinge of something metallic on my tongue. Adrenaline. I knew it for what it was. My heart beating too fast, pumping the hormone through my system, preparing me for fight or flight.

I wanted to run. I wasn't sure I was strong enough to do battle. But I did know I wouldn't leave my father to face this alone. I couldn't.

"I have to go," I mumbled, extricating myself from his warm embrace and rushing across the still crowded pub floor. I didn't look back. Looking back would have tripped me. And I couldn't afford to lose sight of my goal.

Get home before Jaxon. Find a way to move Dad. Leave.

It was a plan. A pretty damn flimsy one. And detail poor. But it was all I could do for now.

Fear had me panting like a sick animal on the blurred and hazy drive back. I narrowly avoided being hit by a taxi, and the undercarriage of my car scraped on the driveway as I approached the garage doors, I was driving so fast. Too fast. Erratically. It was a surprise the cops didn't pick me up.

Maybe that would be a good thing. Then I could hand the burden over to them.

But I wasn't naive. Young, and until tonight, relatively innocent. But that file had more than just pictures of the dead. It had a list of all the people on C&C's payroll. Including several cops.

I hadn't studied it closely. I was too shocked by what I had seen. But I saw enough to know I couldn't trust anyone. Including the police.

I closed my eyes when I switched the engine off, having parked it next to Jaxon's thankfully empty slot. And tried to run through the names I did glance at. I managed to get to fifteen in my mind's eye. None of them had been Eric Shaw or referenced Anscombe Securities and Investigations. I let a long breath of air out and felt my shoulders relax.

It wasn't solid proof. Not even close. But it did provide a stay of execution for my Ric.

A couple more deep breaths and I opened the car door, climbing out under the bright white overhead lights. The air was chilly, this late at night, and the sound of a never sleeping Auckland drifted through the open slats on the walls. The odd flash of a passing headlight blinding my eyes. I looked back in the car and decided to leave my bag there. I may need to make a rapid escape and having the laptop inside the apartment now seemed like a very bad idea.

Closing and beeping the locks shut, I started toward the lift.

Halfway there and a shadow moved against the far wall, peeling away like a wraith.

I stilled, my breath caught in my throat, my chest thudding with the panicked beat of my heart. All I could do was watch as the shadow took form, then lightened, until finally I could see who it was.

For a second relief washed through me.

Then confusion.

Then alarm.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, astounded to hear my voice sounded so level and calm.

"Ballerina," the lumbering giant murmured. "You think the boss don't keep eyes on his precious little princess."