Daddy Devastating (15 page)

“Thanks,” Russ told him.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Soto warned. And Russ braced himself for the news that Soto had obviously not wanted to deliver.

“Is something wrong with Emily?” Julia asked, the moment Russ was off the phone. She had gone pale and had her hand pressed to her heart.

“She’s fine. They’re at the safe house, and all is well.” With Emily, anyway.

Because Julia knew something was wrong, and because she still looked ready to lose it, Russ crossed the room and went to her. “They found the shooter.”

She swallowed hard. “And?”

Russ couldn’t figure out an easy way to say this, so he just tossed it out there. “He’s dead. A single gunshot wound to the head. Could be suicide. Could be an execution.”

Her hand dropped away from her chest. “So we don’t know who hired him?”

“No.”

And they might never learn. A dead man wasn’t going to give them many answers. It didn’t mean this was over, either, because the person who’d hired the gunman could turn around and hire someone else.

Russ leaned down a little so he’d be at eye level with Julia. “I don’t see any sign of panic.”

“Look closer,” she mumbled. But she waved him off and scrubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I think I’m past the panic stage, and I’ve moved on to whatever’s next.”

“Anger,” Russ suggested.

After a moment, she gave a crisp nod. “Yes, I’m angry that I can’t be with Emily. I’m angry someone tried to kill us. And I’m also really angry at the possibility that maybe Aaron or Tracy might be responsible for having their child kidnapped. If they’re behind this, I want to throttle both of them.”

Russ smiled. For a very brief moment, anyway. This new-and-improved version of Julia was going to be trouble. He was a sucker for a damsel in distress, but what really got him revved up was a strong, confident woman. Too bad, because Julia already had him revved up before she’d learned how to cope with the anxiety.

He was about to remind himself why kissing her would be a bad idea, but he gave up. Julia was a lost cause anyway. When this was over, she’d return to her estate and maybe battle with him over the custody arrangement with Emily. She’d probably start dating— someone of her own kind, someone rich, successful and in the old social circle she used to haunt before her attack. Hell, now
he
was angry. He didn’t want her dating anyone else. He didn’t want her thinking about any other man. So Russ latched onto the back of her neck and yanked her to him so he could kiss her.

He wasn’t sure what he hoped to accomplish. Maybe nothing more than to remind himself of what he’d be missing when this was over.

And he got a reminder all right.

Julia might not have a lot of recent kissing experience, but that little, silky sound of pleasure she made in her throat made up for everything. So did the way she wound her arms around him, slipping her fingers into his hair.

She was the one who deepened the kiss. She was also the one who made it French. But Russ knew he was responsible for upping the stakes when he cupped her breast.

Man, he was out of control.

He should be thinking about the case, but here he was pinching her nipples and wondering if there was enough time to strip that dress off her and taste her the way she deserved to be tasted.

Russ had almost convinced himself to back away, but Julia held on. The kiss just kept on going. So did the touching, and she moved her own hand to his chest to do some touching of her own.

Those chest rubs, and the sex-to-sex body contact, overrode any chance of common sense coming into this. He kissed Julia harder and pushed her against the wall so he could do something about getting her dress undone.

But then he stopped. Pulled back and met her gaze. “Am I being too rough?”

She rolled her eyes, latched onto his hair and pulled him right back to her.

So roughness wasn’t an issue. Then what was? Russ decided to do some test touching.

He ran his hand up the back of her thigh, pushing her dress up. She moved into his touch while the searing kiss only got hotter. Hot enough for him to think
to hell with test touching.
He pushed her dress up to her waist and slid his fingers in the direction of her panties.

The scar stopped him.

He felt the raised skin and glanced at it. There was the old wound, right there on her belly.

Julia snagged him by the wrist. “Can we do this with the lights off?”

A loaded question. He was aroused to the point of pain, and part of him was ready to agree to anything— including lights off. But that
“lights off”
was a big red flag he needed to address.

“No,” he told her.

Julia blinked. “No?”

“Your scars don’t bother me,” he let her know. “Well, not like you think. They bother me because of what you went through, but they’re reminders you survived. They certainly don’t cool this heat that’s between us.”

She blinked again. And judging from her expression, she probably would have argued, but then he heard a sound. A loud pop.

Before he could react, his phone rang again.

“It’s Toby,” the caller said, the moment Russ answered. With just those two words, Russ could hear the agent’s frantic tone.

“What’s wrong?” Russ asked.

There was another of those loud popping noises, and Russ knew it hadn’t been caused by a car. He drew his weapon and checked to make sure the door was locked. It was.

“I just got a call from the agent who’s been tailing the Richardsons. There’s gunfire,” Toby explained, his words rushed together. “Just a block up from the hotel.”

Russ didn’t like the sound of that, or the third shot he heard. “Get down,” he told Julia. But she was already headed toward the floor anyway. She pulled her dress back in place and dropped to the thick carpet.

Russ headed to the window. “Are the Richardsons involved?” he asked Toby.

“Not that I’ve heard. The agent said he followed them to a café, and while he was waiting outside, he saw a man running up the sidewalk with a gun.”

Russ glanced out the window but didn’t see anyone. “Milo?” he questioned.

“No, the missing agent, Silas Duran. It looks like he’s the one firing those shots, and he’s coming straight for the hotel.”

Chapter Twelve

“Get down here so you can guard Julia,” she heard Russ say to the caller.

Julia looked up at Russ so she could try to figure out what was happening, but he was at the window with his back to her. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Silas.” And that was all he said for several moments. “He might be the person firing shots.”

Silas? So the agent obviously wasn’t dead after all. “But why?”

“I don’t know.”

There was a knock at the door, and Russ hurried across the room so he could peek out through the tiny viewer. A moment later he opened it, and she spotted Toby.

“Toby’s going to stay here and guard you,” Russ explained.

Julia shook her head. “You’re going after Silas?”

“He’s my partner. I have to go.” That was apparently the only explanation she was going to get, because Russ raced away.

Toby tried to give her a reassuring look, but he failed. Probably because he was standing there, gun drawn, while he kept watching the hall.

“Maybe you should go in the bedroom,” he advised. “And lock the door.”

That didn’t make her feel any safer. “Sweet heaven. You think Silas is on his way here to come after Russ or me?”

“We just don’t know. Silas might not even be the one shooting. This is a precaution.”

It didn’t feel like a precaution. The danger felt as if it were closing in fast. A federal agent had possibly gone berserk, and Russ was out there with him, all because the man was his partner. It sickened her to think that Russ could be facing down bullets while she was tucked away in a hotel room.

Julia stayed crouched down and made her way to the bedroom. She locked the door, as Toby had suggested, and she sank onto the foot of the bed.

She thought of Emily and prayed her little girl was far safer than Julia felt at the moment.

Her little girl,
she mentally repeated.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to stake an emotional claim on Lissa’s daughter, at least not until Julia had worked out the custody arrangements with Russ. Still, she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t possibly have loved the child any more if Emily were her own, by birth.

She heard another of those loud pops. Another shot, no doubt. And Julia put her hands over her ears to block out the sounds. Without Russ there with her, to anchor her with his wry humor and well-timed touches, she felt the old panic return.

Her heart started to race. Her breathing became thin.

But she forced herself to remember what Russ had threatened to do—to put his hand up her dress.

That gave her a brief reprieve, and made her smile. A smile that quickly faded.

That’s because she also thought of the latest kissing session they’d had, a session that seemed to take them one step closer to landing in bed. She wasn’t completely certain she was ready for that, but those doubts seemed to evaporate whenever she was in Russ’s arms.

Julia lay back on the bed, took the pillows and pressed them against the sides of her head. Finally, it was quiet.

Even though thoughts of Russ were flying at warp speed through her head, Julia focused on her breathing. On staying calm. On slowing her heartbeat. It wouldn’t help the situation if she had a full-blown panic attack.

Because she had blocked out the sound, she didn’t actually hear anything, but something alerted her. She snapped to a sitting position so she could try to figure out what was going on.

The door burst open.

Her first thought was that it was Russ. It wasn’t. The man who’d kicked in the door had dark brown hair.

And a gun.

He shoved something into his back pocket and came right at her.

Julia didn’t scream. She couldn’t. Her throat clamped shut, and in the back of her mind she wondered if Toby was about to come in and try to save her. But she couldn’t wait for Toby to do that. She knew that look in the man’s cold, green eyes.

She knew it because she’d seen that look before.

In the eyes on the man who’d tried to kill her twelve years ago.

Julia scrambled across the bed and grabbed the first thing she could reach, the clock. She jerked the cord from the wall and tossed it at the man. It hit his chest, but it didn’t stop him. He still came after her.

She knocked the corded phone off the hook, hoping that it would automatically call the front desk or alert someone. Then, she tossed a notepad at her attacker and latched onto the ink pen. It wasn’t much against the man’s bulky size and his gun, but it was all she had.

She drew the pen back like a knife, and braced herself for him to shoot her.

But he didn’t. He came rushing around the bed toward her again. That told her a lot about this situation. He likely hadn’t been sent to kill her, but to kidnap her. Or maybe he just wanted to prolong this attack.

Julia stabbed at his beefy arm with the pen and connected, the end of the pen actually scraping into his flesh. He made a sound of pain and paused just a second. That pause was enough for her to try to get to the bathroom. She made it three steps before he latched onto her hair.

The panic returned with a vengeance. Images of the other attack came at her like bullets. The slash of metal on her skin. The pain. The blood.

She felt each stab of the knife again and each inch he’d dragged her over, to the trunk of her car.

This man dragged her, too, toward him, but Julia didn’t cooperate with whatever he had in mind. She kicked at him and slapped at him, trying to dig her nails into his wrist. Still, he used his brute strength and pulled her closer and closer. Julia waited until he was right against her, his chest on her back.

She remembered other images, especially those from her self-defense class. She wasn’t helpless, and she wouldn’t be a victim again. Julia drew back her elbow, ramming it as hard as she could into his stomach. She didn’t stop there. She stomped on his foot, and then pivoted, smacking him in the eyes with the heels of her hands.

He cursed and howled in pain. But he let go of her.

Julia bolted for the bathroom door.

It was open, thank God, and she raced into the small room and slammed the door. Or rather that’s what she tried to do. But the man got to her before she could fully close and lock it.

He rammed his heavy weight against the door, and she was no match for his size. Julia flew backwards, her body slamming into the tiled wall between the toilet and the bath.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” the man growled. He shoved his gun in the back waistband of his pants.

And he came at Julia again.

“S
TAY INSIDE!
” R
USS YELLED
to the trio of people in the hotel lobby.

He didn’t flash his badge, something he normally would have done, because he didn’t want to take the chance that one of Milo’s men would see him. He wanted to hang on to his cover, even if there was a chance there was nothing left to hang on to.

Russ stepped through the hotel door, and using the building for protection, he glanced around. There was another shot, and that helped him pinpoint the location of the shooter.

Just to his left.

There was no one on the sidewalks. Thank God. They’d probably already taken cover or run. Either was fine by him. Russ didn’t want an audience, or innocent bystanders getting hurt.

“It’s me, Jimmy Marquez,” Russ called out, just in case Silas was in earshot. Silas would recognize Russ’s undercover name, but the question was—would that cause Silas to shoot? Or would it just give him a direction in which to aim? Because it was entirely possible that Silas was out to kill him.

There was another shot.

This one came from his right, but it hadn’t been aimed at the building. Russ crouched down and made his way to the edge of the hotel so he could have a better look. Another shot.

But this time he saw the gunman—the guy was against the adjacent building and was standing next to a car. It could be Silas. The man was wearing dark pants and a hoodie. And he was indeed armed. Then Russ saw the direction in which the gun was pointed.