All or Nothing: A Trust No One Novel (2 page)

“Now, if I were you, I’d cash out and start over.”

“Okay. Thanks for your help.” She fully intended to start over on the other side of the casino, but it wouldn’t hurt to be polite, even if the man did intrude on her personal space. He was probably expecting an apology, but she’d be damned if she’d go that far.

“Normally I’d collect a commission, but have a cup of coffee with me and we’re square. You can buy.” He cashed out on his machine and stood, unfolding his long frame to well over six feet.

Oh no. Now what? He’d played her, and she walked right into his trap. Amusement danced in his eyes, daring her to refuse—and she had every intention of doing just that. He was smooth, and self-assurance twisted his lips into a grin as he studied her. Somehow the words she needed to send him away escaped her. She sighed. One cup of coffee with the man was probably harmless enough. Besides, there were people everywhere. It wasn’t like she’d be alone with him.

“Okay. A cup of coffee.” She grabbed the winning ticket her machine spat out and stood.

He laid his hand on her back to guide her to the café on the other side of the escalator, just outside the rows of slot machines. They found an empty booth. The waitress brought water, and they ordered coffee. He never took his eyes from Cara’s face, studying her as though he could read her thoughts. She met his gaze, hoping he couldn’t tell she was as nervous as a teenager, despite her twenty-seven years.

“Are you here alone?”

“Good question—if you’re a serial killer.” She laughed to take the edge off her half-serious comment. “I’m here with my brother and his wife.”

“Don’t tell me. You’re supposed to meet them in five minutes so there’s no time to have my way with you?” He mimicked an evil laugh.

“I
was
going to say that.” She shrugged as heat crawled up her neck.

“That’s smart. Women need to be careful.”

“Now, see—I was hoping you’d deny being a serial killer.”

He laughed and reached across the table to cover her hand. His touch left her oddly breathless, and she tugged to free her hand, but he wouldn’t let go.

“I promise you’re safe with me.” The humor in his eyes was gone, replaced by an earnestness that drew and held her gaze.

His statement was logically unsound, but all she could do was nod as she stared at him. His hand warmed hers, and the heat spread upward from her neck into her cheeks. She should move… get up and leave. This was insane. She knew nothing about this man, but his hand on hers soothed her somehow, and his eyes, staring at her lips, made her knees weak. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a schoolgirl. Averting her eyes, she silently wrestled the languid slowness settling in her limbs.

“We might have something worth exploring here.” He leaned forward in the booth. “Are you up for a little research?”

“What kind of research?” She eyed him warily.

He still held her hand, probably so she wouldn’t run away, but he needn’t worry. The heat spread through the rest of her body, and his voice, lowered to a silky murmur, kept her in her seat.

“Let’s get away from here—go somewhere. Have dinner with me.” It was more a command than an invitation.

Cara snorted, shrugged off the spell his words had cast, and tried to yank her hand away. “That’s not happening.”

He held on to her firmly, but gently. “Hear me out. We’re both from out of town. Right?” He didn’t wait for her to agree. “There’s something between us. I know you feel it too.” He held up his hand to stop her when she would have protested. “Let’s both take a chance and see what happens. Have dinner with me… someplace away from all this.” He jerked his head toward the games and the animated patrons feeding money into them. “Then we’ll go for a walk, or whatever you’d like to do. It’s just dinner. That’s all. Unless you care to share something else.” The eyes that met hers were speculative. “Naturally, I won’t turn down a good-night kiss, or your phone number.” A crooked grin settled on his face. “We might find out we’re crazy about each other. If you don’t give me a chance, we’ll never know. Aren’t you just a little curious?”

She was all curiosity at this point, about this guy and why he thought she’d leave the relative safety of the casino and go anywhere with him. Yet his offer intrigued her, and she was drawn to this man she’d never laid eyes on before… and that both terrified and excited her. Was it foolish to agree? If she didn’t, would she always wonder?

His teasing grin challenged her, and she’d always been a sucker for a dare. It wasn’t just his rough-hewn features, or his subtle scent of spice and leather, that attracted her. He exuded an intensity that spoke of intelligence, passion, and power. Someone who knew what he wanted and obviously excelled at convincing those around him to comply. All qualities that should send her running in the opposite direction, especially in light of the past three years.

Was it anticipation or uneasiness that made the shiver run up her back? Good Lord! She actually wanted to accept his invitation. Was she crazy? A man could easily hide his ugly, violent side. She learned that lesson the hard way. It was completely mad to leave here with him.

His shrewd smile told her he was sure he’d convinced her. Maybe he was a little smoother than she’d thought. There was a fine line between a confident man and an arrogant jerk, and the scales just tipped the wrong way.

“Nice try, but no thanks.” She tugged her hand from beneath his.

“Why not?” He grew serious again as his gaze swept her face.

“So many reasons. Let’s start with… I don’t know you.”

“Get to know me… over dinner.”

“I keep wondering what possible reason you could have for trying to pick me up, here of all places. Are you attracted to women with gambling problems and nicotine addictions?”

He chuckled and looked a little embarrassed. “Did you ever stop to think I might not make a habit of picking up women? Maybe I’m attracted to you because you have a drop-dead gorgeous smile, which you don’t use often enough, by the way, and mesmerizing blue eyes that haunt me even when I look away. Or just because you’re nice.”

“We only met ten minutes ago. You don’t know anything about me.”

“We could fix that… over dinner.” He leaned casually back, stretching his long legs under the table. The little-boy-last-to-get-picked-for-the-team look he shot her was almost enough to make her reconsider. Man, this guy didn’t give up. She dragged her eyes away from his.

“I should get back.” She threw some money on the table and scooted from the booth.

He stood too. “Wait. I don’t even know your name.”

“I think it’s better that way. Don’t you?”

“Come on… let me have something to remember you by. Please don’t make me beg.” He smiled beguilingly as he matched her stride.

“Cara… my name is Cara.” She sighed, annoyed.

“I’m Joe.”

He kept pace, despite her shorter stride, walking close beside her, continually, almost apprehensively, glancing around him. Cigarette smoke wafted across the large room to meet them as they neared the casino floor. There was no way she was ready to go back in there, under the shroud of secondhand smoke that hung over rows and rows of discordant machines. Besides, she needed to put some space between this… Joe and her, so they didn’t end up sitting side by side again. Impulsively, she veered toward the front door, hoping he’d take the hint and go back where he came from.

“I need some fresh air. It’s been… interesting, Joe.”

“Fresh air sounds good.” He caught up with her as she reached the door.

Angry now, and frightened, she turned in front of him and stopped, hands on her hips.

His lips curved in an impish grin when he nearly ran into her.

“You should go now, before I call security.” She glanced around nervously. What if he became angry and wouldn’t leave? How long would it take to get help?

Joe raised his hands and took a half step back. A flash of something, maybe anger, darkened his eyes for a second, but before he could say anything, two men dressed in suits appeared on either side of him. The one closest to Cara opened his jacket far enough to show a partially concealed handgun.

“Let’s all go outside, shall we?” the man said.

A calculating expression hardened Joe’s features. Cara took a step back, confusion gripping her. This had nothing to do with her. They wanted Joe, not her. Yet the man with the gun grabbed her arm and jerked her in between Joe and him. Joe put his arm around her waist and forced her to walk alongside him. Numb with fear, she dragged her feet, looking to the right and left to catch the eye of anyone who might help.

Outside, the briny sea air filled her lungs, and the wind chilled her through the light cotton shirt she wore. The men pushed them along the sidewalk and across a motel parking lot to a beach access with a steep set of rickety stairs.

Terrified, her breaths came in short gasps as her heart drummed wildly in her chest. The stairs led down to sand and a dark, empty beach with the ocean beyond. No way was she going down there. She braced herself on the top step, but Joe’s arm encircled her waist and pushed her forward.

Damn him! Why wouldn’t he let her go? What were these men going to do to them? Unquestionably, there was nothing good about being forced along at gunpoint, yet Joe showed no fear, as though even now he had everything under control.

“Stay calm, Cara.” His whisper barely rose above the crashing of the waves. “Be ready. When I tell you to run, you run and don’t stop, no matter what.”

She glared at him. Who the hell did he think he was? Why should she listen to him? These men were after him with guns, and she was in danger
because
of him. Certainly, she had no reason to trust him… but what if he was the only one who could help her?

When they stepped onto the sand at the bottom of the stairs, Joe whirled to face the men who were still a half-dozen steps above him. He jumped between the gunmen and her, and a split second later he had a knife in his hand. With a flip of his wrist, the knife flew through the air, landing with a thunk in the center of the first man’s chest. Cara gasped and fell back a step, staring at the knife protruding grotesquely.

“Run!” Joe launched himself at the second man before the first one hit the ground.

She couldn’t move until the man still standing raised a gun, with a silencer on the end, which jolted her into action.

“Cara, run!” Joe yelled again as he dove and rolled away from the barrage of bullets striking the sand.

She ran, her feet slogging through the loose sand and over rocks and driftwood. Staying close to the tall grass at the edge of the beach, she searched desperately for another access trail back out to the street and people. Her ragged breathing seared her throat, her heart raced, and her calves burned. It was crazy to stop, but her legs were shaking and she needed to rest a few seconds. Just long enough to catch her breath.

Heavy footsteps approached quickly from behind.

Was it Joe? God, she hoped so, but she couldn’t take the chance. Her breathing was so loud anyone within fifty feet could hear her. Hiding was out of the question. Her only hope was to run and try to lose him.

Bending low, she raced along the beach. Her legs ached with the effort. Twice she fell. Each time she picked herself up, the relentless footsteps drew closer.

Ahead, a break in the grass. A trail led up an incline toward a motel. She swerved onto the path and kept running. The sand ended at a short flight of stairs that led to the back of the motel. She took them two at a time. As she reached the top and dashed the ten feet to the motel’s covered walkway, the
pap, pap
of bullets through a silencer barely preceded the spray of lead on the wall beside her head. She careened around the corner, right into the waiting arms of someone. Her momentum carried them both down the alleyway a few feet.

No! She was so close. She wasn’t going down without a fight. Instinctively, she clawed and twisted, but the man easily overpowered her and pinned her arms to her sides. When she opened her mouth to scream, he pushed her back against the wall and pressed his hand over her mouth. Glaring into his face, she went still, relief turning her tired legs to rubber.

Joe.

As soon as she stopped struggling, he removed his hand. He placed a finger in front of his lips. A raised palm told her to stay put, and then he crept to the corner of the building and waited.

The follower’s footsteps pounded up the stairs with no attempt at stealth. As the man rounded the corner, Joe crouched and sprang. With a left to the jaw, he knocked the man to his knees and kicked the gun from his hand. It clattered across the concrete toward her. She bent to pick it up.

The man caught Joe’s leg and jerked him off his feet. Something long and metallic appeared in his hand. Joe jumped up to fight, unarmed, as the stranger lunged with the knife. Joe blocked the thrust, but the knife slashed across his arm and he fell back. The man grinned and advanced to attack again.

Cara raised the gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
Pap.
She’d done it thousands of times before, but this time the spent lead didn’t travel thirty-five feet and tear through a paper target. As though in slow motion, the bullet hit the gunman’s chest. A dark stain spread down the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise as they met hers for an instant. Then he fell.

She’d fired lots of weapons—all kinds—but it hadn’t prepared her for this. She was only vaguely aware of Joe standing in front of her. He tried to take the gun, but she couldn’t make her fingers let go. Finally, he pried it from her hands, put the safety on, and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans.

He bent over the man and checked for a pulse, but Cara knew he was dead. She was an excellent shot and had hit him just where she’d aimed. Still standing where Joe left her, she couldn’t take her eyes off the body of the man who only seconds ago had been alive. Her mind replayed the sequence again… aiming, firing, the man hitting the ground. A scream built up inside her. She tried to stop it, but an anguished groan broke free. She was losing it. She had to get away from there.