Wild for You (21 page)

"What! If he hurt her I'll—" Marcos roared.

"He didn't. I caught up with them just in time. Gabe was unarmed, but God only knows what he might have tried. He's a real jackass."

Clay opened the door and they went inside.

Hands braced behind his back, Marcos paced the living room floor. "Tell me about the kidnapping."

"There's not much to tell. Here, take a load off." Clay sprawled on his leather couch and Marcos plunked down across from him on the other couch. "He had some lame plan to win her back."

"He better stay away from her," Marcos muttered, his jaw clenching with menace.

"Gabe was scared shitless in jail, enough not to bother her again."

"You're sure he's not the stalker?"

"None of the evidence I've gathered supports it. Gabe doesn't fit the pattern of a typical stalker." He paused. "That wasn't the only event of the week."

"What do you mean? What else happened?" Marcos asked, leaning forward intently.

"The salon receptionist, Laila, was the victim of a hit-and-run. Afterward, Marisol received a threatening message that she'd be next. That's when I convinced her to marry me for appearances' sake."

Marcos nodded. "Is that it?"

"No, there's more. Later this week her car window was smashed and she found a rock with 'whore' painted on it in the driver's seat."

Marcos muttered an expletive. "Why didn't you tell me what's been happening?"

"Marisol's under my protection now," Clay reminded him. He narrowly missed saying "Marisol's mine now" instead.

Marcos' penetrating gaze bore into Clay's suspiciously. "Are you two involved?"

"It's impossible not to be involved with Marisol, she's so charismatic and full of life. I have to admit she's gotten under my skin," Clay replied, feeling the familiar rush of pleasure she brought into his life.

Marcos smiled as he reflected on it. "I'm glad you feel that way. It couldn't have happened to a better man," he said, nodding in approval.

"Thanks," Clay said, relieved he felt that way. "Marisol really needs a keeper. She's too friendly and too trusting—and she always wants to believe the best about people, even when they turn on her."

Marcos' eyebrows snapped together over narrowed eyes. "What do you mean?"

"She had to fire Trini over the weekend for stealing," Clay said. "She had actually given Trini a second chance after she admitted to stealing all the cash from the register. But then Trini blew it by stealing again. This time she took supplies."

"I'm not surprised. I met Trini shortly after Marisol hired her and she didn't impress me. I hope that's the last of her." Marcos' eyes crinkled with amusement. "Tell me how it went when Marisol gave you the haircut. Did she torment you much?"

"Please don't remind me," Clay retorted, grimacing.

Marcos chuckled as Clay retold Marisol's antics with the mashed avocado. By the time Clay finished relating his first experience with Marisol, including the stun-gun incident, he and Marcos were laughing out loud.

* * *

Marisol groggily turned on her side. She opened her eyes and wondered if she was dreaming. She was sure she heard Clay and someone else's deep rumbling laughter.

Marcos!

She bolted up and concentrated on the voices coming from the living room. As she tiptoed to the door, she went numb with shock when she overheard them joking about Clay sitting in a prissy pink beauty salon with green slime on his head.

"Does she know who you are yet, Gator?" Marcos asked, his mirth subsiding.

"No, and it hasn't been easy lying to her or hiding the tattoo on my shoulder," Clay admitted.

Marcos grunted, "I'll bet. You better let me tell her or she'll go ballistic when she finds out you've been deceiving her."

She'd heard enough! Marisol burst into the room like a rampant tornado. She ripped Clay's shirt open, sending buttons scattering on the tile floor as she yanked the shirt open and shoved it past his shoulders, revealing his muscular pecs and washboard abs.

"You're Gator?" she yelled, staring at the serpent tattoo on his shoulder.

Clay stepped back, stunned. "Hey, stop that! You just ruined a perfectly good shirt."

"Too bad!" she sneered, sharply poking his chest with her finger. "To think I felt bad for you because I thought you were hiding a scar." She pointed to the front door. "Get out. Both of you!"

Marcos reached out to ruffle Marisol's hair. "Settle down, Marisol, it was my idea. I can explain."

Enraged, Marisol darted out of his reach. "Oh, you're going to explain all right, but I don't want to hear your voice right now, so shut up!"

"Marisol,
por favor!"
Marcos protested, backing away. "Clay did it as a favor for me. I was worried about you."

"How dare you both sit there smugly laughing at me behind my back!" she raged.

"Calm down and listen to me, sunshine," Clay intervened.

"Sunshine?" Marcos repeated with an amused lift of his brows.

"Why should I listen to you,
Gator?
" she snapped, turning on Clay. "You're a liar and I don't want to see you ever again." She stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. There was no time to change out of her robe. After searching in the closet, she remembered she'd left her handbag on the kitchen counter. She ran past Clay and Marcos, who stood in the living room with flabbergasted expressions on their faces.

Grabbing her purse, she yanked the bouquet of daisies out of the vase and returned to the living room. Clay and Marcos went to the front door and blocked her exit.

"Let me by!" she commanded.

"Not until you listen to me," Clay said calmly, reaching out to detain her. "You can't go out there in your robe."

Marisol jabbed Clay's solid midsection with the dripping daisies. "I'll do what I damn well please." She glared at the towering men in front of her. "Move aside or I'll hate you forever."

"Let her go. I'll follow her to her apartment," Clay said.

"No, you won't! I'll call Alan," she said, her amber eyes fiery and defiant.

Clay put his hands on her shoulders. "Stop it, Marisol. You're acting hysterical."

"Tough!" she retorted, pushing his hands from her shoulders. She yanked open the door and bolted out of Clay's apartment barefooted. Marisol ran down the hall and stepped into the open elevator, managing to close the elevator doors before Clay could reach her.

* * *

Marisol opened the new locks on her apartment door, darted inside, and carefully relocked them. She turned her iPad on and pumped up the volume full blast to drown out the protests screaming in her heart.

Clay had deceived her!
So had Marcos. But she wasn't nearly as angry with Marcos as she was with Clay. She was used to her brother trying to control her life. But Clay? How could he have betrayed her trust like that? She had repeatedly told Clay that she hated being treated like a baby by Marcos's constant smothering.

How could she have been so blind? The clues had all been lined up for her. From the beginning, Clay had been reluctant to disclose that he was a detective. And she had never seen his naked body in the light, despite their intimate lovemaking.

All that effort to hide a tattoo! How much longer had he expected to carry on the farce? To think she had worried that he was embarrassed over a disfiguring scar when in reality he hadn't wanted her to see the identical tattoo that Marcos also had on his shoulder.

Marisol's stomach twisted as she recalled Clay's and Marcos's guffaws that afternoon. Nobody would make a fool out of her again, she vowed, sick at heart. First Gabe, then Trini, and now Clay. Wasn't there anyone left whom she cared for who hadn't lied to her?

Marisol pressed her hands against her temples and squeezed her eyes to shut out the many endearments she'd lavished on Clay. What a pathetic fool she'd been to hope that he loved her when he'd only been doing a
favor
to his longtime bud, her brother! Suddenly and painfully, realization dawned to break her heart. Clay didn't love her, even though he'd made love to her. He must have felt so indebted to Marcos, that he'd been willing to sacrifice his independence to marry his naïve little sister, just to watch over her.

But what about his tender lovemaking?
Had that been part of his gratitude?

With trembling hands, she wiped the hot tears that filled her eyes. She'd given him her whole heart and soul and now her feelings of violation by the stalker's threats paled next to her feelings of betrayal at Clay's deception.

Clay was no longer her hero.

He was a deceitful liar.

* * *

Clay rang the doorbell to Marisol's apartment and when she didn't answer, he knocked. He could hear loud music blaring in her apartment, but she didn't come to the door. When several moments passed, Clay banged on the door with his fist. "Marisol, open up!"

"Go away!" she shouted back.

"Not until you give me a chance to explain."

She yanked open the door. "How could you think you'd get away with it? I already told you I don't want to see you again. Now leave." She tried to close the door in Clay's face, but his hand stopped her, infuriating her even more.

Hands braced on his hips, Clay leaned forward and his black eyes blazed a scalding path to her eyes. "The hell I will! I'm not going anywhere until we've resolved this."

"There's nothing to resolve," she said, and forced herself to regain her composure. She had already lost it in Clay's apartment and she had no intention of letting him see how devastated she was. "You are officially off this case."

"Not until I arrest the stalker."

"I'll hire somebody else. I'm sure Linc can recommend an
honest
detective."

"Linc wouldn't do anything I disagree with." Clay crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his legs braced apart, an intimidating stance that didn't work on her.

"Then I'll hire a private investigator. Either way, I want you out of my life. I've had enough lies for one lifetime." Marisol turned and headed to the bedroom. Clay closed the door behind him and followed her. She gathered her purse and keys, ignoring Clay as he shadowed her every move.

Clay gently turned Marisol to face him and tried to kiss her, but she jerked her face away. Sighing deeply, he said, "Baby, the only reason I didn't admit to knowing Marcos is because he warned me you'd refuse my help. I never meant to hurt your feelings."

"Is that all you think you've done?" she whispered brokenly, ashamed that she couldn't stop the tears. "No, Clay, you haven't just hurt my feelings, you've broken my heart!"

Clay flinched and dropped his hands from her stiff shoulders. "Marisol, it started out as a favor to Marcos, but I have grown to care for you."

Marisol's heart contracted painfully. He hadn't said he had grown to love her—only that he'd grown to care for her. Heck, she cared for her friends, but she
loved
Clay and she thought he loved her back. When he had made love to her after Gabe's kidnapping he'd said,
"You're mine Marisol. Even after I arrest the stalker. You're mine."

Facing him squarely, Marisol tried to keep her voice from quivering. "I told you once that I would stay by you as long as you wanted me. I no longer feel that way. I can never be happy in your kind of relationship. I want to marry someone who loves me and wants a real marriage. Just one child would make me happy." She took off his mother's ring and handed it to Clay. "Here, I don't need this anymore."

Clay grabbed her hand and replaced the ring on her finger. "We still have to appear we're married while I'm on the case."

"I can't even bear to look at you, Clay, let alone pretend we're married. And I'm not going to shack up with you in your apartment anymore. You only protected me because of your promise to Marcos."

Clay ran a ragged hand through his coarse hair and shook his head. "It started out that way, but I grew very attached to you. I can't bear the thought of anyone hurting you."

"Why? Because it would disappoint Marcos?"

"Stop it," he bit out, his black eyes piercing as he scowled at her. "If you won't believe I care for you and you insist on a strictly platonic relationship, then so be it. But I'm staying on the case until I arrest the stalker."

"Suit yourself." She turned away from him. "I'm moving out of your apartment anyway."

Clay ground his teeth and worked the muscles in his clamped jaw. "All right. I'll help you, but I'm not giving up."

Marisol whipped around to face him as indignation mushroomed inside her at his obstinate way. "You won't like the new me, Clay. I've been a trusting dope all my life, but not anymore—you've managed to destroy my trust," she said, clutching her keys and stomping to the door. "I want to start bringing my things back now. Has Marcos left already?"

"Yes." Clay exhaled a heavy sigh. "I told him I'd call tonight."

"Yes, do that. I don't want to talk to him for a very long time."

Clay waited for Marisol to change from her bathrobe and then followed her to his apartment.

"I understand how you feel and I'm sorry. I won't keep the truth from you again," he said, once they were inside his place. "I've been trying to explain why I had to, but you won't listen to me."

"I heard you, I just can't accept it."

Clay sat on the couch and braced his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. "Marisol, your life is still in danger," he said grimly. "I'm the best man for the job. We have to stay married until I catch the stalker. After that, we'll get divorced."

Marisol joined him on the couch, her back ramrod stiff and her chin lifted. She was done with self-defeating tears."If I agree to this, you have to follow
my
ground rules."

Clay rubbed the back of his neck. "What are they?" he asked, his tone flat.

"First of all, we'll live in my apartment. I can't bear to live in yours playing the adoring wife." That seemed to cut him to the quick. "And you can't touch me anymore. Not even in public
.
"

Clay looked ready to explode. "You're asking a lot," he said roughly. "But I'll agree to anything—just to keep you safe."