Savor the Danger (20 page)

“Nothing to say to that, I take it?”

“You were waiting for confirmation?” Jackson faked a yawn. “I didn't realize.”

“Well, realize this, you smug bastard—I'm coming for you.”

“Yeah?” He got the code back from Trace. No one suspicious or obvious in the area, inside or out. But the caller knew of the men he'd disabled and left in a closet. Did that mean they had someone undercover in the hospital? “When should I expect you?”

“Soon enough.”

He cut to the chase. “How'd you know to call here?”

Another evil laugh. “I'd lie and say I found the dupe, but truth is, I had a lackey call every area hospital until he was finally connected to a room with Marc Tobin.”

Believable, but he wouldn't swallow that just yet. “And the goons I massacred?”

“I dispatched a few to each area hospital—just in case.”

“No shit? You're that thorough?” And obviously part of a large operation.

“Always. Very. You might want to remember that.”

Like he would forget? “So how did you know I walked through them?” Fishing for answers, Jackson asked, “One of them get loose?”

Another beat of silence. “You mean…you didn't kill them?”

It struck Jackson then: “Wait, I get it. You know they're done for, because I answered the phone, right? If they'd been successful—”

“You'd be on your way to me right now instead of hanging out in that fool's room.”

Not dead himself? Interesting. “You know, since we're having this nice little chat, why don't you tell me what it is you want?”

“Initially…just you.”

Relief coursed through his blood. So Alani was only a bystander to it all? Preferable.

But before he could relax, the caller said, “Now, since you've put me to so much trouble, I figure I'll take the girl, as well.”

Jackson tamped down the gut-wrenching rage to keep his tone indifferent. “Yeah?” Refusing to look at Alani, he asked, “What girl is that?”

A rusty laugh. Another and another, building in pleasure and anticipation. “Maybe,” the voice whispered with abrupt malice, “I'll just take them both.”

The call disconnected.

Jackson wanted to be calm. He wanted to be precise and methodical. In the past, no problem. His cold detachment from a fight was one of the first things to earn praise from Dare and Trace.

But that was before Alani.

Now, it seemed he shared a live connection with her that impacted every nuance of his being. Sometimes even his heartbeat fell into sync with hers, making him aware of every change in her demeanor, her excitement, her worry.

And right now, her distress.

She moved so close to him that he could feel her warmth and breathe in the sweet scent of her. Her presence made his life better—and more difficult.

He took a second to compose himself, to clear his head and open his mind to possibilities other than her being grabbed by a trafficker capable of beating a putz like Marc Tobin to the brink of death.

He'd get her out of here, he'd keep her safe.

No one would take her from him.

First things first.

Shooting for nonchalance, he turned back to the room. “Where were we?”

“Well,” Alani said patiently, her gaze watchful, “I'm close to hyperventilating, and Marc passed out.”

Bemused, Jackson scowled down at the other man—and saw it was true. “Oh, for the love of…” He stalked over to Tobin and clapped his hands over his head.

Loudly.

Tobin came to with a lurching cry.

“We'll move you today.”

Gaze darting everywhere in unrelenting fear, Tobin asked, “To where?”

“Better if you don't know that yet.” He went to the window to look out, then to the door to check out the hallway. He came back to the bedside to hit the nurse's buzzer. “Stay awake, and keep a nurse in here with you if you can. Tell her something is hurting. Shouldn't be a stretch, right?”

“For how long?”

“An hour or less. It's being arranged.” Jackson pointed a finger at him. “In the meantime, don't talk to anyone. Don't contact anyone. Don't get a wild hair and check in with your office or notify family that you're fine. None of it. You got me?”

“Yes.” He tried to shift up in the bed and grimaced.

“Stay put. People are on it. You won't see me again for a while, but you'll be fine.”

Drawing a slow, deep, careful breath, Tobin asked desperately, “You're sure of that?”

“Positive.”

As if given a vast reprieve, he closed his unbandaged eye and sank into the bedding. “Thank you.”

“I'm not doing it for you.”

“Jackson.” Reproachful, Alani shook her head at him
before addressing Tobin. “He's surly, but he wouldn't lie. If he says you'll be okay, then you will be.”

Tobin gave one nod. “I know.”

It was bad enough that Tobin had been a party to the bullshit, and still Jackson had to ensure his safety. He'd keep him alive. He didn't need Alani bolstering the guy, too.

Jackson took her hand. “Come on. You and I need to have a little talk, sooner rather than later.”

Alani held his one hand with both of hers. “About what?”

As he exited the room, they passed the nurse. She did a double-take, smiled and watched as he kept walking.

Alani scowled back at her, but he reclaimed her attention by saying, “I've been putting it off, but it's past time now, so I have to tell you about Arizona.”

“Arizona?”

The hall was clear except for the bustle of rubber-shoed nurses and doctors reading charts. He had a lot to do to wrap up the day, and he wanted to get to it. “The girl I told you I saved on that bridge?”

“Oh.” Full of understanding and sympathy, she trotted beside him.

How long would that last? he wondered.

“You think that has something to do with Marc and the people who had him?”

“Probably.” At the elevator, he held the door for an elderly couple. The woman, in her eighties, pushed a wheelchair with an equally aged gentleman seated inside. She struggled with the chair, so Jackson said, “Let me.”

Aware of Alani smiling at him, he helped them inside the elevator, and then, because it was necessary, he also rearranged the older man's load of flowers, an overnight bag and paperwork.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “Milton has picked up weight and that's the truth. It makes pushing his chair a little more difficult.”

Jackson doubted old Milt could go over one-twenty, but he just nodded at the woman.

Looking at them with faded blue eyes, Milton grunted. “I told her it was too much for her.” He patted his pointy knee and said to his wife, “You should come on up and we'll both ride along.”

“Milton.” She swatted his shoulder to hush him. “He's always outrageous when he has to visit the hospital.”

“Uh-huh,” Jackson said. “I'm betting he's outrageous all the time—and that you love it.”

Milton grinned. “You got that right.”

“Oh, you.” The old woman swatted at Milton once more. “Behave.”

When Milton reached up and covered her hand with his own, Jackson had the oddest feeling, almost like…melancholy. He looked from those aged clasped hands to Alani, but she was watching the couple, her expression ripe with tenderness.

“If you don't mind me asking,” Alani said, “how long have you been married?”

“Fifty-seven years,” the man told her. “Every day has been better than the day before.”

The woman sighed her agreement. “We're blessed.”

Jackson couldn't stand it; he had to reach over and take Alani's hand. She squeezed his fingers in understanding.

In the lobby area, he told her, “Stay right next to me,” and he assisted the man and woman to the front doors where a valet took over.

They each thanked him. Jackson waved them off,
saying, “Have a good day.” He was still smiling as he turned away.

“What an amazing couple,” Alani whispered.

That particular tone from her had his heart skipping a beat. She was such a gentle person, and despite being impressed with how well she'd held up while facing Tobin, he never wanted her to lose her softness.

That someone had just threatened her suffused him with determination and protectiveness.

He put a hand to the small of her back, but rather than head for the doors where they'd entered, he detoured into the lounge. After digging change from his pocket, he loaded it into a vending machine.

“What are you doing?” Alani asked. And with disbelief: “You're…
hungry?
”

Jackson shook his head. “You wanted me to catch that cat, right? If I get him something to eat, it'll be easier.”

“The cat!” She half laughed, half moaned, and her golden eyes went all misty. “I can't believe I forgot all about that poor little thing.”

“You're allowed, honey.” A few others in the lounge gave her glances of sympathy. They likely assumed a sick relative brought about her dismay. She'd gone from smiling at the seniors to near tearful over a stray cat.

Jackson pulled her around so others couldn't see her. His arms around her, he spoke close to her ear. “You okay?”

“Yes, of course I am. I just…” She leaned into him with a long sigh. “Seeing Marc like that was awful, especially knowing that the same people who did that to him are actually after us. And then you were so kind to that couple, and they were so adorable.”

Did she expect him to be unkind? “Is this one of those confusing womanly reactions to stress?”

She laughed but continued to lean into him. “It has been like a roller-coaster ride.”

For him, too. Now that he knew Alani was also a target, renewed determination cut through his veins. “I would never let anyone hurt you.”

She turned her face up to his. “Please don't say that.” Her small, cool hand touched his jaw. “I don't want to be hurt, you know that. But regardless of your machismo and orders to the contrary, it would devastate me if you got hurt because of me.”

Flattened, Jackson frowned at her. He started to speak, couldn't quite manage it and finally hooked her arm to escort her back into the hall.

What would it take to make her understand his ability? As to that, what did her damned statement even mean? She didn't want him hurt? Hell, she hadn't wanted Tobin hurt, either.

But, he told himself, she hadn't looked at Tobin with her beautiful eyes all liquid and filled with…who knew?

Fear? Lust?

Love?

He growled out his frustration. “Swear to God, woman…”

Bustling beside him, she gave him a quick double-take that almost made her trip. “You're upset?”

“I don't get
upset,
damn it.” No, what Alani did to him was too volatile for that namby-pamby word. Too red-hot and deep and disturbing.

He pulled her around the corner away from prying eyes, ready to give her a piece of his mind. But then she frowned up at him, and just that quickly, he lost it.

P
UTTING HIS MOUTH
over hers, Jackson prodded Alani's closed lips with his tongue until she opened, and then he sank in, tasting her, exploring the textures of her mouth and teeth, kissing her breathless.

There in the hallway, danger around them, her brother and Dare on lookout duty, a scraggly cat waiting to be rescued, he flattened a hand on the wall behind her and kissed her like a starving man.

Like a man who had already lost the fight but didn't want to admit it.

He groaned.

Alani didn't fight him. In fact, she kissed him back with wholehearted enthusiasm.

When he regained his wits and eased away, he realized her hand was knotted in the front of his shirt.

He kept his face close, her mesmerizing eyes gazing into his at close range. “Swear to God, Jackson.”

Even knowing she mimicked him, that she poked fun, he had to fight off a grin. “What now?”

Using the fist in his shirt to thump his chest once, she said, “You confound me.” Then she licked her lips. “But that well-timed kiss was just what I needed to get my mind off other things.”

God, she was precious to him. He cupped her face and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Glad I could help.”

She tilted her head to study him. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

“The kiss?” He shrugged. How could he explain all the ways she stirred him, his body, his mind, even his damn soul? Over and over, he felt obsessed with proving something to her, or maybe to himself. At the moment, they didn't have time to waste, so he settled for saying, “You're hot.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jackson Savor, that is not an answer.”

The stern, warning tone amused him. Giving in to the grin, he disengaged her fingers from his shirt and took her hand in his. Time to get them on their way once more. “You care about me.” If she dared to deny it, he'd kiss her again.

“That's news to you?”

He missed a beat before saying, as offhand as he could, “It shouldn't be?”

He got another eye roll. “Would I sleep with you if I didn't care?”

“I dunno.” He'd slept only with women he liked, but he couldn't say he cared about them beyond the moment. They didn't plague his dreams or keep him in a fever of lust. He didn't think about them after they'd gone—and they all left, because he didn't allow them to stay. He didn't want them around just to be with them, the way he did with Alani. “Would you?”

“No.”

The telling smile broke over his face, but he didn't give a damn. It was a start and better than thinking she only wanted him for sex. Though being wanted for that was pretty damned sweet, too. “Good to know.”

In blatant exasperation, she threw up her hands.
He heard her mutter,
“Good to know,”
in insulting mockery.

Ready to get off that particular uncomfortable topic, Jackson paused by a closet, looked around to ensure no one watched them, and opened it.

Arms folded, expression aggrieved, Alani asked, “Now what are we doing?”

Little by little, her nervousness had faded as she adjusted to the circumstances. “I need a box.”

“For the cat?”

“That's right.” He shoved a few things out of his way. “Keep watch for me.”

“Oh.” Startled, she forgot her grievances and snapped to attention. “Okay, sure.” Taking the task far too seriously, she scanned the hallway several times.

Shaking his head and grinning again, Jackson found a box that was just about the right size but still filled with paper towels. “This'll work.” A punch to the top of the box split the tape and he opened it to dump the contents on a shelf.

“Good. Let's go.” Alani took his hand and tugged. “I'm not cut out for surveillance. It makes me too jumpy.”

“You don't look jumpy. You look bossy.” Toting the box, he let her lead him along until she slowed by the closet where he'd stowed the goons.

A little sick, she tightened her hand in his. “You think they're still in there?”

“If they weren't, we'd know it.” He kept her close, and his voice low. “Either they'd have gone out back, where Dare would have seen them, or back the way we just came, and Trace would have seen them. It's under control, babe, so just keep walking.”

“Believe me, I wasn't going to peek.” Shuddering at the thought, she charged forward again.

When they reached the exit doors, Jackson pulled her up short. “Hold up a sec.” He surveyed the yard while putting in a call to Dare. “All clear?”

Dare said, “I'd have let you know if it wasn't.”

Right. Alani had
him
second-guessing things now. “We're on our way out. Just so you know, I'm going to nab a cat.”

“That stray you noticed when going in?”

“If it's still hanging in the bushes, yeah.”

“It is. I swear, I think it was watching for you.”

“Smart.”

“Most cats are. Be careful with him, though. He doesn't seem feral, but he's still skittish.”

“Will do. Later.”

Alani raised a brow. “What was that all about?”

“Dare says the cat is still there.”

“That's it?” She dropped back against the wall. “He didn't question why you'd be catching a stray?”

By way of explanation, Jackson said, “He's an animal lover, too.” As he pushed open the doors, he scanned the area. “Dare said we're good to go.”

“But still you're on guard.”

“Pure habit.” Two sets of eyes were always better than one. Once outside, he paused to look for the cat. He didn't have a lot of time, not with the threat to
two
women, but if he could grab the cat quickly, then he would. As if it had indeed been waiting for him, it stepped out of the bushes, turned a high-stepping circle in pleasure, then sat down to stare at him in expectation.

“You're a pretty boy, aren't you?”

Alani agreed. “He really is. And once he's cleaned up and brushed, he'll be even prettier.”

This time when Jackson crouched down with some lunch meat off the vending-machine sandwich, the cat
edged closer. It had already started a throaty purr that sounded like a broken engine trying to start.

Voice soft, her mood more so, Alani said, “Poor thing is hungry.” She knelt down next to Jackson.

“Yeah.” He was just able to touch the cat's head with the tip of one finger. He stroked gently. “We'll let him eat a bit before grabbing him.”

After a minute or so, the cat let Alani pet its head, too, and rubbed up against her. “Maybe we don't need to trap him. Try setting the box out with more of the food inside.”

Jackson considered that and decided she might be right. “He'll need a bed, too, for the long ride back.” Standing, Jackson stripped off his shirt and layered it in the bottom of the box, then set the food inside next to it.

Staring up at him, her lips parted in surprise, Alani swallowed. “Do you plan to drive home like that?”

“Why not?” He crouched next to the box and encouraged the cat. “We just want to help, Buddy. Come on. You'll be all cozy, I promise.”

The cat investigated, sniffed the shirt, gave a deep crackling meow and sat down inside to eat the rest of the food.

“Huh.” Amazed that it could be that easy, Jackson slowly closed the box flaps. For a second or two, the cat panicked, snarling and trying to get free. Jackson held the box closed and murmured to the animal while Alani looked upset.

“He's scared.”

“He'll settle down.” Jackson took half a minute more to talk to the cat, shushing, soothing. Finally it became still. “That's it. Easy now.” He lifted the box carefully.

Alani whispered, “You know, Jackson, there are facets to your personality that I never noticed before today.”

“Like?” He kept the box tight over the cat and tried not to jostle it too much.

“It's incredible how you take everything in stride. Disabling two men, talking to venal fiends, assisting the elderly and rescuing a stray. You act as if it means little to nothing, as if it slows you down no more than picking up a penny.”

“We're not on a timetable, so how could any of it slow us down?” The cat started to fuss again, but he just murmured to it while heading to the car.

Alani rushed around to open the back door. “What will we do with him?”

He'd already thought about it, so he hoped Alani approved. “We need to head to Dare's anyway. He has a vet he trusts, so that's first on the list.”

Her chin tucked in. “We're going to Dare's next?”

“Making a stop there, yeah.” He didn't yet tell her that he planned to leave her there while he took care of other business. She'd be safe with Dare, and that's what mattered most to him.

Using a seat belt to ensure the box wouldn't open, he stowed the cat in the backseat. “Plans change. This one just did in a big way. All you can do is go with it.”

“I'm going,” she muttered, seeming confused by him, and then the rest of what he'd said sank in. “But wait! If you want Dare's vet to look at the cat…does that mean you're going to keep him?”

“Sure, why not? It needs a good home. I have a home.” He opened her door. “And maybe you can help me out with him when I have to be away?”

Surprise stole her voice.

“You don't like that idea?”

“Actually…I'd love to.” But she sounded subdued about it.

What was she thinking? Deciphering Alani's moods could keep him busy for a lifetime. That idea appealed to him in a big way, but would he get the chance? Knowing his time was up, Jackson walked around, folded himself behind the wheel and started the car.

Left mired in his own deceptions, he squeezed the steering wheel. “And now we talk.”

Proving she hadn't forgotten, Alani said, “About the girl on the bridge?”

“Yeah.” Cold dread raced through his veins every time he thought of her being hurt again. She hadn't called, so he had to trust that she was okay. Still, he wanted to check on her and soon.

But he also needed to know that Alani was away from harm.

Whenever Alani thought he needed comfort, she touched him, his arm, his shoulder.

She did so again, reaching over and curling her fingers around his biceps. “You said this all happened in Arizona?”

“No.” With his thoughts jumping ahead to what had to be done, how Alani might react when she heard the whole truth, Jackson drove out of the lot. “Arizona is her name. And she could be in more trouble than we are.”

 

L
OUNGED BACK IN HER SEAT
, her legs out in front of her, she halfheartedly watched the fight unfolding in the middle of the barroom floor between two barmaids. The scrap amused her, mostly because the women didn't have a clue how to actually brawl. They just screeched and pulled hair.

Absurd.

In the casual sprawl, she could study each patron in the sleazy establishment without anyone noticing. So far, she
hadn't found the one she wanted—but she would. Sooner or later, she would.

Attuned to everyone and everything around her, she felt it the second a man approached.

She pretended she didn't.

She pretended not to care. About anything.

If only that were true.

He sat down at the table beside her. “So what's happening here?”

Without looking at him, keeping her attention on the catfight, Arizona leaned to the side and said, “Blondie started pissing on Red's good mood. Red didn't like it and shoved her onto her ass. Blondie didn't like that, so she slapped her and called her a bitch.” Arizona shrugged. “Now they're girl fighting—which somehow equates with losing clothes, boobs showing and lots of hair pulling.”

The guy was quiet a second. “You've got a mouth on you, little girl.”

“Yeah.” She'd been told that before, many times, by many men. “Brain, too. Basically all the same shit you have—without the gonads or pipe.”

He snorted. “Nasty, too.”

Slowly she turned to face him—and got flattened by incredible good looks. He was big. Really big. Like six feet, five inches big. Broad shoulders, bulging biceps, no fat and a to-die-for face.

His silky brown hair was almost as dark as his heavily lashed bedroom eyes. Without thought, she breathed, “Yeah, when I need to be.”

Doing his own fair share of staring, the guy said, “What's that?”

“Nasty.”

“Oh, right.” The intensity of his sinner's eyes scrutinized her. “So you can be, huh?”

Arizona shrugged. Her definition of nasty probably differed from his.

She'd never seen a guy so gorgeous, which only meant he'd gotten used to getting his way with women. When he didn't, what would he do? Resort to force? To brutality?

Would he, like so many, try to use his size and strength against her?

She sorta hoped so. Then she'd annihilate him.

And then she'd forget about him.

But for now, she continued to stare, going over his high cheekbones and once-broken nose, down to solid shoulders shown off by the dark fitted T-shirt, flat abs and longer-than-long jeans-covered legs.

He wore the T-shirt outside his jeans. To cover a weapon?

His right eyebrow lifted high. “Like what you see?”

Conceited dick. She curled her lip. “You don't look like you belong here.”

“No? What look would that be?”

“Dirty. Poor.” She leaned out of the way of an elbow when a drunk staggered by. “Coarse.”

“Then you wouldn't fit here, either, right?”

A squeal sounded, and they both looked back to the brawling women. Arizona leaned back in the seat and crossed her arms. “My money's on Blondie.”

“An actual bet or a figure of speech?”

She considered it, then thought,
what the hell.
“Fifty bucks?”