The Distraction (12 page)

“That's not fair,” I said.

“Who said it was going to be fair?”

I tilted my head back, groaning as the fabric started to rip. A long, strained sound of relief that made my thighs quiver in anticipation. I tried again to reach for him, but was denied. He was going to make me suffer.

“You're breaking the rules,” I said. “What you're doing to me isn't even legal.”

“So take it up with my parole officer.”

His words reached through my cloudy brain, grasping a memory from the previous night.

“W-wait,” I stammered.

He froze.

I debated telling him to forget it, but this was important, and chances were in an hour I wouldn't be able to remember my own name.

“Did you get my message?”

He blinked. Twice.

“About your parole officer,” I prompted. The heat began to dissipate between us, despite the still-obvious bulge in his pants.

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “Yeah. I got it. He said there must have been a misunderstanding. He didn't call you.” He returned to kissing my neck.

I sat up.

“Goddammit. I
knew
it,” I said.

He straightened, lines forming between his brows. “Knew what?”

“This guy came by last night while you were out. I got distracted and forgot to tell you.”

Last night had been filled with distractions.

Alec's brows flattened. “My parole officer came by this apartment.”

“No. I mean, maybe.” I was starting to feel the air-conditioning now. I covered my breasts with my hands. “He didn't seem very parole officer-ish. Barged right in, looked around. I had to tell him to leave.”

Alec considered this with a scowl, his fingers still hooked on the sides of my panties. My unease grew, and I felt a strong urge to fill the silence.

“He had an ID. Jack something . . .” I smoothed down my skirt. “Jack Reznik, that's it. I asked him to leave his number, but he left some card to a sushi place.”

Alec had turned as still as a statue. His bronze skin paled, and a possessive fury settled on his features.

“Pack a bag,” he said. “We're leaving.”

T
en minutes later I was back in the lobby of the apartment building, a duffle bag with all my clothes and whatever toiletries I could fit sitting on the floor at my feet. Alec wouldn't tell me what was going on, but from the urgency in his movements, I could tell it was serious.

He was talking to Mike in low tones, and I inched closer to hear what they were saying.

“Who let him through?” Alec demanded.

“Last night . . .” Mike shuffled through the book. “Rich Murphy was working the desk. He had the log book . . .” Mike reached for a heavy journal with a list of names. Guests had to sign in when they came here. The high security was one of the perks of living in such a swanky place.

“Damn.” Mike's head fell forward.

I glanced over the desk and saw that the page he'd opened to was completely blank.

“I'll talk to him,” said Mike.

“I want to see the security footage,” said Alec. The edge in his voice made my spine zip straight.

“Easy.” Mike raised his hands. “You're not the boss anymore. I've got to get clearance for that kind of thing.”

Alec had once managed some of Maxim Stein's properties, but since the trial, and Alec's incarceration, the duties had been handed over to a law firm.

“What's going on?” I asked, nerves making my voice higher than normal. “Who was that guy?”

Alec flinched, but didn't respond.

“Tell me,” I demanded.

He turned, and the energy coursing through him was enough to make me step back. He watched my response, and inhaled slowly.

“I want to see the security footage,” he said again.

Mike stood, and though he was built, he was still several inches shorter than Alec. His gaze was sharp as daggers though, and I was suddenly grateful for the desk between them. It seemed hard to believe that just an hour ago we were all laughing together in this same spot.

“Don't pull that crap with me,” spat Mike. “In case you forgot, I'm one of the few people left who've still got your back.”

Alec returned his glare.

“He was alone in my apartment with her,” he said.

Mike swore and turned away. I put a tentative hand on Alec's back, feeling the anger running hot enough to burn my hand.

“Alec,” I said, unable to hide the worry in my voice.

He took a slow breath, then threw the bag over his shoulder.

“Come on.”

*   *   *

Ten minutes later we were in his Jeep, plotting a course toward the west side of town. I'd relayed the entire conversation with Reznik to Alec, and though he seemed relieved that I hadn't given the man who'd called himself a parole officer my name, he still insisted that we rent a hotel room, just to be safe.

He stared straight forward into the night, fingers thrumming against the steering wheel.

“Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I get to guess?” I finally asked, and when he didn't answer, I added, “You promised no more lies.”

He inhaled slowly.

“Remember when I told you I did things for Max that I'm not proud of?”

I sat a little straighter, fearing where this was heading more than I had just seconds before.

“I remember.”

“There were men Max would call to do things even I wouldn't do. Things I didn't always know about.”

I let these words sink in, remembering the scar on Reznik's eye, and the way I'd felt like I needed to take a shower after he'd left. He had a Bobby creep factor, minus the Neanderthal vibe. If Bobby was a hammer, Reznik was a Colt .45.

“He's a hit man,” I said with a shudder.

“He's bad fucking news,” Alec answered. “He and his boys hang out at the sushi place. He wants me to go there.”

Cold dread squeezed around my chest.

“You're not going there.”

Alec shook his head. “No.”

“What does he want?”

“Fuck if I know.”

But as he adjusted his position in his seat, I felt like he did have some idea, he just didn't want to tell me. I picked at my fingernails, fearful that if what Alec was saying was true, I might be on Reznik's radar now, as well. He could have hurt me when he'd come to the apartment last night. He could have killed me if he'd been so inclined.

“How did Maxim get to him? Aren't his phones tapped?” His whole house was surrounded by police and reporters.

“I guess he found a way.” The sarcasm didn't escape me.

“We should call the police.”

“No,” Alec said adamantly. “He's not someone you want to play with, understand?”

“Who says I'm playing?” I said. “He impersonated an officer, that's a crime.”

“One he'll get out of in five minutes flat but remember a long time after you think he forgot.”

I didn't like his tone. It was like he thought he was talking to a child. The Alec who'd been kissing me senseless in the kitchen, talking to me about kids, was gone. This man was hard and cold, and without his compassion, my nerves began to twist and fray.

“Then tell the FBI.”

“I will,” he said, like it was the end of the conversation.

I shoved back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. I hated the out of control feeling that seemed to invade my life since I'd met Alec. It made me worry that Amy and my dad might be at least partially right about him. For every perfect piece I loved, there was one equally as destructive.

He turned into the valet drive of a big, lavish hotel on the beach, where a doorman in tails and a top hat pushed a luggage cart toward our car.

“This doesn't exactly scream low profile,” I said.

“Max used to stay here when he wanted to get away from his wife.” Alec turned off the ignition. “They're used to big clients—the security's as tight as it gets.”

Which meant it was expensive.

He seemed to read my mind. “Contrary to what Mike says, I still have a few favors left.”

*   *   *

The “favor” he was cashing in turned out to be a size-two brunette who worked at the concierge desk. Her name was Mandy, and from the way her lips lingered on his cheek when she kissed him hello, it was obvious they'd been intimate.

When Alec introduced me as Laura—an alias I assumed he was using for my protection—she looked like she wanted to laugh, and I stifled the urge to kick her in the kneecaps.

“Can I get a key to the suite?” Alec asked, reducing her to a puddle with that sexy smirk I thought he reserved just for me. She seemed to know what he was talking about, which led me to believe that Max kept an ongoing room here.

“You know I can't say no to you,” she said, a little pout on her shiny red lips. “It's a pity you have company tonight.”

“Behave, Mandy.” Alec's advice blew right over her head.

“Now you of all people know that's impossible.” She giggled, and the sound was like nails down a chalkboard. It seemed I was the only one to notice.

Visions of her naked body wrapped around Alec's flooded my mind. Her legs were nicer than mine, her skin lighter, her hair tamer. We were as opposite as we could be, and I hated Alec for making me care. All the anxiety from talking about Reznik transformed into one hard knot of jealousy. I didn't want to be here, watching Alec work this woman. I didn't want to be indebted to her for anything.

“I want to go somewhere else,” I said.

Mandy raised her brows at me. “Is something wrong?”

“You, to start with.”

“Anna,” Alec grabbed my forearm, but I shook him free. His gaze was filled with warning, and I shot one right back.

“Maybe you'd like to find other accommodations,” she said. “Alec, why don't I show you upstairs?”

She slid her hand down his shoulder, lingering over the strong muscles of his upper arm, and stared a challenge right at me.

“Why don't you show me outside instead,” I offered.

I'd gotten in a catfight a few years after my dad had adopted me. A big, mean girl who liked to call me Orphan Anna and throw sawdust in my hair. It had been years since I'd sharpened my nails, but now seemed as good a time as any.

“We can find the room just fine on our own,” Alec told Mandy, glaring at me. “One key would be great.”

With a pouty nod, she went around the counter and had a key card made. When she was done, she handed it directly to Alec, and I made certain to smile at her as we walked away.

We rode the elevator to the eighteenth floor with an older woman who either had a very young lover or a very inappropriate bodyguard. I didn't say a word until we were in the room—which was, of course, amazing, with a huge four-poster bed and a separate living room with furniture nicer than anything I'd ever owned.

“Why would you bring me here?” I demanded, blood boiling.

“I told you,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “Security is the best in the city.”

Was he dense? Did I have to spell it out for him?

“You brought me to a place where you fucked another woman,” I said.

He threw the duffle bag on the bed.

“It was a long time ago.”

“Not to her,” I snapped. “Seems like she still thinks you're on the market. I noticed you weren't in a big hurry to correct her, either.”

“I needed the room.”

“So you pretend I'm just another fuckbuddy?” I asked, stomach cramping with insecurities. “Was this where you two used to meet? How many women did you bring here?” I looked away from the bed I normally would have been excited to break in. “Jesus, Alec. Why would you shove this in my face?”

“It was nothing serious.”

“Like that makes it better. How would you like it if our places were reversed?” Did he really think this wouldn't hurt me?

“I wouldn't.”

“Really? That's strange. Because I'm having the time of my life right now.”

“Anna, don't.” He scratched his fingers over his scalp.

“Don't
what
?”

He turned and stared at me, shoulders rising an inch.

“Don't fucking doubt me,” he said. “Not you. Anyone else, but not you.”

I wavered. The energy coming off of him had changed from anger to desperation, and there was nothing that broke me down faster than his vulnerability.

He looked away. “I have to work tonight. I took the graveyard shift at the shipping yard. It's too late to call in.”

“You're going to leave me here?”
With Mandy downstairs?

He grabbed the duffle bag off the bed and ripped the zipper open.

“You'll be safe.”

“And what about you?”

“The place is covered with surveillance cameras and security to prevent theft. Reznik would be stupid to show up there.”

I laughed dryly. “That makes me feel
so
much better.”

“If I blow off this shift, I'm done. It's not like employers are lining up to take me, Anna.”

There was that condescending tone again, like I was a clueless bimbo.

“How about you stop talking to me like I'm stupid?” I said.

He paused, then jerked the thermal shirt he'd been wearing earlier from the bag.

“Okay, how about this? I need a job. The last one I had, I fucking loved. I believed in that company. Private jets, new, cutting-edge engines. I even bought shares in it knowing full well Max would never give me any voting power.”

“I . . . I didn't know that.” My voice faltered, but his was rising, growing sharper.

“Here's something else you probably didn't know. It's only a matter of time before the people overseeing Max's properties realize I've been staying in my apartment rent-free. Legal fees are killing my savings. We haven't even gone to trial and I'm already on my third lawyer because everyone's scared shitless of Max.” He gave the shirt he'd been squeezing in his fists one hard shake to spread it out. “I'm a couple months short of living in a cardboard box.”

Remorse hit me hard, and I forced myself to keep standing tall. I'd never seen him so tortured. With all of this just below the surface, it seemed impossible that he could have had even one genuinely happy moment with me since he'd been released from prison.

He tore off the T-shirt he'd been wearing, and shrugged into the thermal.

“We have my place,” I said. “We have my job.”

“And I'm supposed to let you take care of me, is that it?”

Ouch. That one hurt.

“We could take care of each other.” I moved toward him slowly, tentatively, but he stepped away.

“For how long?” With a burst of fury, he knocked the bag off the bed, spilling my clothes across the floor. “Until you get hurt again? Until you realize I'm the trash your dad told you I am?” He stepped closer, bending down to look me in the eye. “Until some guy comes along with a steady paycheck, and a clean record, and convinces you you're too goddamn beautiful to be hauling around dead weight?”

I slapped him.

I'd never slapped anyone in my life, not even in my one and only catfight.

“Who's doubting who?” The tears ran down my cheeks.

He huffed out a breath. And as our gazes met, I silently begged him to take it back, to hold me so we could forget all of this and focus on the real problems at hand.

But he didn't. He took one step back, then another. And then he turned and left.