Perfect Victim, The (4 page)

Chapter
2

Addison had known she was in trouble the moment she set eyes on him. Now, as she took in the mussed black hair, the unforgiving eyes
,
and the cruel mouth
,
she could only wonder how she was going to get out of it
.

Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a red plaid shirt
,
he had the haunted eyes of a prisoner on death row and the rough
-
hewn face of a gangster
.
He towered over her like a giant sequo
i
a
,
wi
t
hout the beauty
,
all brawn and muscle and temper. The way he moved reminded her of a big predatory cat, a hungry one that enjoyed the kill as much as the feast.

Under different circumstances
,
the image might have been appealing in a physical, fundamental way. Too bad he had the intellect of an ice cube and a mean streak that had her shaking in her shoes. Her throat constricted when she considered the possibility that he might actually try to hurt her
.

But she reminded herself that he was a private detective and that she was merely a victim of mistaken identity
.
Surely they could handle this like mature adults.

He stuffed the ten-dollar bill into the front pocket of jeans
that stretched snugly across lean hips. For an insane instant she found her eyes drawn to a part of his anatomy she didn't want to think about. Squaring her shoulders, she raised her chin and gazed at him squarely. "My name isn't Felicia. My name is Addison Fox, and I had a nine A.M. appointment with Jack Talbot."

His eyes glittered menacingly. "My name is Randall, and I'm Jack's brother from hell. He asked me to fill in."

"You're making a huge mistake ... Randall."

"Ah, now that we're on a first-name basis, I should tell you I'm not as nice as Jack. I'm certainly not above frisking you."

Indignation punched through her. "How dare you speak to me like that."

"How dare you take advantage of a man in a wheelchair."

"I've never met your brother. I don't even know him."

"Ten bucks isn't much of a down payment." His eyes raked over her. "Maybe we could work something out."

Realizing he seriously had the wrong impression about her, Addison snatched her bag off the desk and began throwing the contents back inside. "I'm not going to take this."

She refused to tolerate brutality, verbal or otherwise. As far as she could tell, this man was stark, raving insane. She started for the door.

Heavy footsteps thudded against the floor behind her. Even with her back to him, Addison knew he was coming after her.

"You're not going anywhere," he said in a rough baritone.

Not trusting her back to him, she spun and walked backward. "Don't come any closer." She raised her hands, knowing they wouldn't stop him. Her bottom connected with the door. Her hand shot to the knob. She tugged, but the door didn't budge. Locked, she thought, and realized what it must feel like to be a rabbit caught in the sights of a rifle.

"On the other hand a little striptease is hardly worth four hundred dollars." He peeled the purse from her shoulder and tossed it onto the desk behind him without looking at it.

Her legs went weak. "You
'
re out of line
.
"

One side of his mouth curled. A smile or a snarl, she couldn't tell which
.
"Stealing is out of line." He braced an arm on either side of her, effectively pinning her against the door. "I don't have much tolerance for thieves."

Addison told herself it was outrage that had her pulse hammering
.
But when his shirt parted, her eyes took on a life of their own and swept down the front of h
i
m. His chest was wide and rippled with muscle. A sheath of thick black hair
t
apered to a stomach that was hard and flat
.
The sight of such blatant maleness sent a
n
uncomfortable awareness surging through her.

Incredulous that her hormones were about to betray her, she ra
i
sed her head and found herself looking at a harsh, unshaven face. Prominent cheekbones and a nose that looked as though it had been broken and never properly set dominated his features. His mouth was sculpted and distinctly brutal
.
But it was his eyes that commanded her attention. They were haunted eyes. The kind that looked through people and saw all the way to their souls
.

"So
what's it going to be, Felicia?" He assessed her boldly. "You going to pay my brother what you owe him? Or are we going to have to find another way for you to make good on your debt?"

She could feel the heat of his gaze as surely as if he had touched her. The thought made her shiver
.
"There is no debt," she said.
"And you're a thug."

"Yeah, well, at least I'm honest about it
.
I don't march around claiming to be something I'm not
.
"

He was so close she could smell the musky male scent of him and the smoky tang of whiskey on his breath. A tremor of fear barreled through her when she realized he'd been drinking. "I'm going to scream
,
" she warned between clenched teeth.

A cruel smile curved his mouth. "Why don't you just hand over the cash like a good little girl and we'll be done with this?"

Scant inches separated his mouth from hers. For a single, wild instant she half expected him to close the distance between them, lean close, and kiss her. She wondered if he would use his tongue, if the kiss would be ruthless or gentle ....

Thoroughly unnerved by the bizarre turn her thoughts had taken, Addison gave herself a hard mental shake and forced her gaze to his. "Unlock the door."

"We're not finished."

"Yes, we are."

"I'm not going to let you rip off my brother."

"Get out of my way."

When he made no effort to move, she braced against the door and pushed him with both hands. The sudden contact stunned her. His muscles were like warm steel beneath her palms. He stumbled back, catching his balance on the desk. She stared at him, trembling, every nerve in her body on edge.

Humiliation washed over her when tears stung her eyes. She wasn't prone to displays of emotion, but the outrage burgeoning inside her—and the fact that this man seemed to be enjoying every second of this—was too much.

She knew it the instant he realized his mistake. He went perfectly still. The intensity drained from his eyes, and he just stood there staring at her as if she had suddenly transformed into a rare and endangered species. It was her tears, she realized, that had finally convinced him she was telling the truth.

"I want my purse." Her voice shook, but she didn't care. God, she hoped he didn't try to apologize. An apology now would only make her angrier, and she didn't want to go another round with this dim-witted Neanderthal. "I'm leaving."

Lowering his head, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "I don't believe this," he muttered.

Addison choked out a humorless laugh. "We'll see how
overcome with disbelief you are after my lawyer gets finished with you." It took all her concentration not to sway as she started for the desk to retrieve her purse. The last thing she wanted this man to know was that he'd shaken her down to the tips of her toes-and then some
.

He regarded her through dark
,
somber eyes
.
"I thought you were ... somebody else
.
"

Addison gathered more of her things and dropped them into her purse
.
"It must have been a dead giveaway when I shouted out my name." She felt sane, almost normal now that he was a safe distance away. With a little luck she might even be able to convince herself nothing had happened between them.

He stooped to pick up the gold tube of lipstick and handed it to her
.
"I guess that means you're not open for an apology."

Addison studied his face and looked deep for something redeeming, something that would explain her reaction to him, but she came up short
.
"Not on your life." She snatched the tube from him, vowing to call the Better Business Bureau as soon as she got back to the shop. "I ought to have you arrested
.
" She shoved the lipstick into her purse and pulled the drawstrings tight
.

"Since when is arousing a woman a crime?"

Her cheeks flamed. It appalled her that she
had
reacted to him in some base
,
animal way
.
"You
'
re having dangerous illusions." She fled for the door
.

"Am I?" He didn't follow
.

"I guess it would take an illusion to keep that ego of yours so inflated
."
She reached the door, remembered belatedly that it was locked
,
and slammed her palm against it
.
"Open it!
"

He strode to the door, gave it a good yank, and held it open for her
.
"Sorry. It sticks.
"

Feeling like a fool, Addison sent him a final, scathing look over her shoulder and bolted. She tried valiantly to avoid the man in the wheelchair, but she was moving too fast
.
The collision stopped her cold. His glasses flew into his lap. The
armrest rammed painfully into her thigh. She cursed.

"Are you all right?" The man steadied her with one hand and grappled for his glasses with the other.

The smell of cigarettes and budget aftershave drifted to her as she extracted herself from the wheelchair. She looked at him, noticing immediately that his features were disturbingly similar to those of the man inside. Hard, direct eyes that weren't quite friendly. Jack Talbot, Addison thought. Her heart sank when she realized the hem of her skirt had somehow become ensnared in the chair's wheel.

"I'm just peachy," she snapped and yanked at the material.

"Let me help you." Awkwardly, he grasped the fabric of her skirt and tried to untangle it from the locking mechanism.

Addison looked up to see Randall Talbot leaning against the door frame, taking in the entire scene as if it had been choreographed for the sole purpose of his entertainment.

"Need some help?" he asked affably.