A Perfect Storm

Not when she’d once been held captive by human traffickers who, after using her, had tried to kill her as punishment for running away.

Her death would have been a lesson to remaining trapped victims. Instead, the bastards had died—and good riddance.

Luckily—at least for Spencer’s peace of mind—Jackson was already in love with Alani, so his interest in Arizona wasn’t romantic in any way. But for Arizona? He just didn’t know.

Jackson was a good man. A protector.

And right now, Spencer felt like a destroyer of evil. Nothing protective in that.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Arizona slugged him in the shoulder. “What the hell is wrong with you? No one died. Lose the sad face, will you?”

He’d try. “So why are you here?” Remembering how she’d gotten in, he turned to look at the door. “You didn’t damage my lock, did you?”

“Your lock is fine—shitty, but fine.” She propped her feet on the table in front of the couch. “I’m good at picking locks.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

She stared down the length of her legs and wiggled her toes. Nonchalantly, she said, “I need some help.”

Apprehension shot through him. “With what?” Had she gotten herself into trouble somehow? Was someone after her again?

“Promise me that you won’t tell Jackson about this, either, and then I’ll tell you.”

Fearful for her, he said, “Sure, whatever. I won’t tell Jackson.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed. “That was a mighty quick agreement.”

“But sincere.” At the moment, his biggest concern was her safety. “Spill it.”

“All right.” She went back to rubbing the corduroy, and it was such a sensual thing, her hand moving slowly over the material, that Spencer felt mesmerized. “There’s this restaurant. Well, it’s actually a sleazy bar, but they do serve food during the day, too.”

From any other woman, those words wouldn’t cause much reaction. From Arizona, they boded a looming catastrophe. “What bar? Where?”

“Don’t look like that,” she complained. “Until I know you’re on board, I’m not giving you details. Let’s just say I suspect they’re part of a large-scale trafficking ring and maybe using forced labor. I want to look into it. But I’m not dumb. I know I need some backup.”

Dear God, Jackson looked into large-scale trafficking rings—not Arizona! And he didn’t work alone—he worked with other men who were equally skilled.

They backed each other up—and they’d given Arizona computer duties in an effort to involve her, while keeping her away from the more dangerous action. She should have been doing no more than researching backgrounds on small-scale, local-level traffickers.

Research only.

“I was thinking I could be bait again. You know, put myself out there and see what happens. With you keeping watch, it’d be safe enough, right? If they try to grab me, then we—”

“No.” His temper shot into overdrive, on a par with his alarm. He said again, with more force, “No.”

Unmoved, Arizona met his angry gaze—and shrugged. “Fine. I thought you might want to team up, but I can figure it out on my own.” She started to leave the couch.

He again caught her arm.

Slim, warm and so soft…

As she stared at him, her blue eyes lit from a very short fuse. “I’d suggest you stop trying to manhandle me.”

Hearing the deadly tone in her voice, Spencer opened his fingers. “Give me a second to think, will you?”

“Huh.” At her leisure, she dropped back again. “So ‘no’ with you isn’t necessarily no? It might mean something else? It could mean that you just want time to think?”

She was making mincemeat out of him. He had to take control. “I don’t want you anywhere near anything dangerous, especially by yourself.”

“Yeah, but see, you aren’t my daddy, aren’t my boyfriend, and you sure as hell aren’t anything in-between. So if you don’t want to help, then it’s none of your damn business.”

What did she consider in-between? “I want to make a bet with you.”

Her interest perked up. “You do? About what?”

Already knowing it wouldn’t go over well, Spencer braced himself. “I bet you can’t go a month without cursing.”

Her chin tucked in, and her brows came down. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He had no idea, except that it annoyed him to hear her be so coarse. “Go a month without cursing.” He hated himself, but he said, “Every time you slip, you owe me a kiss.”

Icy stillness fell over her. Silence pulsed in the room.

Tension gathered like storm clouds.

Pulling the tiger’s tail, he asked, “Well?”

Eyes glittering, Arizona slowly pushed to her feet. “Fuck you,” she whispered.

He could see a pulse tripping in her slim throat.

He could see the fear she tried so hard to hide.

“I suggested a kiss, Arizona. Nothing more. And despite what you said, ‘no’ does mean ‘no’ to me. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not!”

“You don’t have to expect the worst, either.” He didn’t move from his position on the couch, but with their gazes locked, it felt as if he touched her all the same.

It disturbed him—so what would it do to her?

“I would never hurt you,” he promised. “I’d do my best to protect you from anyone who would.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.” Her eyes turned glassy, a little wet. “I can protect myself.”

Not too long ago, she hadn’t protected herself at all. And no one else had, either.

“You find kissing so repulsive?”

She shook her head but said, “I don’t know.” Then she added, “I haven’t done much…kissing.”

“No?”

Her teeth clenched; she spoke through stiff lips. “A guy who’s paying for his time doesn’t want to waste it on that.” In defiance, she added, “Thank God.”

Her words felt like a kick in the guts. “Arizona—”

“They saw me as unclean.” Her chin jutted forward. “And I’m glad!”

Had she ever been given a sincere, caring, affectionate kiss? He just didn’t know. But they had to start somewhere, or she’d never be free of her past.

He sat forward. “Given your expression, the idea of kissing me would be insufferable, so I’m guessing it should be incentive enough to clean up your language. Right?”

She took a step back, then another. Arms loose, bare feet braced apart, she prepared to fight.

After everything that had happened to him in the past three years, his heart should have been encased in ice. Until Arizona, it had been.

Now, around her, everything felt as raw as a fresh, hot wound.

“You trust me,” he pointed out.

She shook her head. “I don’t trust anyone.”

Slowly he stood and took a step toward her. “Yes, you do. You don’t want to, and I understand that. I really do. But that’s no way to live and you know it.”

Shaking her head again, she whispered, “No.” Then louder, “No!”

He stopped. “Why did you break into my house to tell me it’s your birthday? If you don’t trust me, why did you leave my gun and knife on the nightstand? If you’re afraid of me, why are you here, asking me to partner up with you?”

She breathed harder.

As a warning, her small hand bunched into a fist. He didn’t care. If she slugged him, maybe that’d finally make him see reason.

Maybe he’d finally be able to stop thinking about her.

“Damn you,” she growled.

And his doorbell rang.

CHAPTER TWO

ARIZONA WATCHED AS CALM settled over Spencer’s features. Oh, chaotic emotion had been there seconds before. She knew it. But now, he looked as collected as a college professor.

“Excuse me,” he said with absurd formality, and turned to head for the front door.

The second his back was turned, she let out a pent-up breath and felt her knees weaken.

Why did he rattle her so much? Fear? Yeah, around him she felt it in spades. But it wasn’t a normal kind of fear.

It wasn’t anything familiar.

She’d lived with fear most of her life, first from her father and his cohorts, then from the awful traffickers and the swine who came to them for women. And then…from the idea of being alone, unable to help others.

Useless.

From where she stood, the open door blocked her view of his visitor, but she didn’t need a visual, not with the husky female voice now crooning, “Spencer, I’m so glad you’re home.”

Arizona’s spine went rigid.

Strength surged back into her legs.

So did petty animosity.

She strained her ears but heard nothing, and she suspected the woman was kissing Spencer.

“Sorry, doll,” Spencer finally said low, “but it’s not a good time.”

Doll? Not a good time for what? Curiosity, and a few more unpleasant emotions, nudged Arizona closer.

“But it’s been forever,” purred the female, “and you promised me—”

“I don’t make promises.”

“I know.” An exaggerated sigh. “That’s not what I meant. But…” Silly female cajoling. “God, Spencer, I need you.” Slim, pale hands came up and around Spencer’s neck and drew him down.

This time she had no doubts at all about the silence. They were making out in his doorway, right there for God and the rest of the world to see.

Peeved, Arizona took a few quicker steps forward, and witnessed a pretty blonde delivering a scorching kiss. They both had their eyes closed. They fit together. And she saw a flash of tongue.

Fury narrowed her eyes.

Spencer knew she was waiting on him, but he didn’t exactly fight off Blondie’s attentions.

With one hand at her waist and the other keeping the door held open—probably to try to block Arizona from seeing—Spencer let the brazen broad kiss him.

Crossing her arms and propping her shoulder against the wall, Arizona asked, “Can I get an estimate on how long this is going to take?”

When they both looked at her, the blonde shocked, Spencer resigned, Arizona smiled.

“I mean, is this going somewhere? Should I skedaddle and leave you to it? Or should I just wait outside for a few?”

The blonde opened her mouth twice but said nothing. Her lips were now wet, her face flushed.

Spencer, appearing unaffected by it all, didn’t say anything. He just watched Arizona.

When the blonde noticed that, she shoved out of Spencer’s hold. “You bastard!” She turned and marched away.

“Hey, he doesn’t make promises,” Arizona called after her. “You should’ve remembered that!” Since Blondie didn’t head for a car but instead crossed the lawn, Arizona assumed her to be a neighbor. How handy was that? He had “hanky-panky” living right next door.

Giving her a dirty look, Spencer pointed at her. “Stay.” And with that, he went after the woman.

Like…maybe she mattered to him? Who was she?

Snuffing the hurt she felt, Arizona said, “Woof,” so Spencer would know what she thought of his order, then she strode to the door to watch the theatrics.

Relationships confounded her; she’d never seen the appeal of having someone around, underfoot. The invasion to your privacy. The expectations. Obligations.

Sex.

No, she wanted no part of it.

And yet it infuriated her to see Spencer contain the woman by holding her oh-so-gently, and to see Blondie soften as he explained.

What did he tell her?

For certain, Spencer wouldn’t admit that she’d watched him sleeping, that he’d gotten up and paraded around buck naked in front of her.

He wouldn’t admit that they were both vigilantes, and that their only connection was a drive to bring the bad guys to justice.

But he talked about something, and when the woman looked toward Arizona with understanding and sympathy, her temper snapped.

What the hell?

Did that bimbo pity her?

Storming away, Arizona headed back to the kitchen. Along the way she threw a few shadow punches and kicks, then drew a slow deep breath. She’d already reconnoitered Spencer’s house, so she knew she could slip out the back door and not have to see him again.

But she wouldn’t. She’d be damned before she let him make her flee. She didn’t run from anyone. Not anymore. Never again.

Hoping to hide her awful mix of emotions, she went about cleaning up the mess on the floor.

Making herself at home, she located Spencer’s garbage can and unearthed a roll of paper towels. She was almost done when Spencer came in several minutes later.

The second she saw him, she tossed away the last paper towel and regained her feet. “You do her in the driveway?”

Appearing cautious, he said, “What?”

Holding one hand in a circle and extending the first finger of her other hand, Arizona created a crude simulation of sex.

His expression tightened. “That’s enough.”

“Is it?” She leaned on the counter. “You were gone long enough.”

“Five minutes? I don’t think so.”

That stymied her for a moment, but what did she know of his sexual habits? Maybe he struggled. Maybe it took him longer. “Whatever you say.”

He drew out a chair. “Jealous much?”

“No!”

“Then what do you care?”

Her molars clenched. “I don’t.” But her heart started thumping in a very strange way.

“You refused to kiss me,” he reminded her.

Oh, surely he didn’t think… “Damn right I refused!”

“Then it doesn’t matter if I kiss her, does it?”

Her hand twitched with the need to zing the remaining coffee cup at his handsome face, but that would never do. It’d give away too much—and leave her with another mess to clean up.

Besides, he now blocked the exit from the kitchen to the front door, and she wasn’t reckless enough to infuriate him when getting out the back would hinder her escape and make it possible for him to catch her—

“I will not hurt you, damn it!”

She almost jumped out of her skin with that deep, loud shout. But he looked more offended than threatening, alleviating her concern. “Sheesh. Stop my heart, why don’t you?” At least his outburst had brought her back around, helping her to shake off those odd sensations of worry and…hurt.

He literally fumed. “You’re standing there configuring escape routes.”

“No way.” How could he know that?

“I saw it in your eyes, Arizona. You have an expressive face.”

“Seriously?” And here she’d thought just the opposite. Many, many times she’d hidden her emotions from others. Her sadness. Her fear. Her yearning. No one else had so easily picked up on her thoughts.

“Very expressive.” He drew a deep breath, ran both hands through his hair. “But there’s no need. Marla’s a friend, that’s all.”

“A friend that you fuck?”

His teeth sawed together. “Occasionally. By mutual agreement.”

Ah, God, why did that hurt so much? It shouldn’t. It had nothing to do with her. “I interrupted a little nookie time for you, didn’t I?” The sarcasm came through loud and clear. She shook her head in pity. “I am soooo sorry.”

“No, you’re not, so don’t lie about it.”

No, she wasn’t sorry. Just the opposite, she was glad she’d kept him from boinking the blonde. “Marla, huh? She was sort of…full-figured, wasn’t she?”

“She’s got a lot of curves. So what?”

“You’re a chubby chaser?”

He rubbed his face in exasperation. “Most men like a woman with some meat on her bones.”

Unable to stop herself, Arizona glanced down at her trim limbs. No one would call her chubby. She had her own curves, but if he preferred—

“Stop it, Arizona.”

“Stop what?”

“Comparing.” His gaze went all over her, fast but thorough. He glanced away as he said, “You’re incredibly sexy.”

“Incredibly?” Okay, so she knew that men found her appealing. Usually it creeped her out.

Now…not so much.

“There are a lot of different body types, but most women are beautiful in their own way.”

“Wow.” Could he really believe that nonsense? “That sounded almost poetic.”

“You know men find you attractive.”

“I know they see…me.” Her throat tightened, especially with the speculative way Spencer watched her. She flagged a hand and tried to sound negligent. “They look at me and they know things. That’s all.”

“What things?”

“Who I am, what I’ve done.”

“No.” His gaze darkened, softened. “They look at you and see an extremely exotic, beautiful woman. That’s all.”

If he wanted to believe that, fine. She knew the truth: her ugly past clung to her like a wet shirt.

He dropped into the seat. “Let’s get back to the bet, okay?”

She’d rather not. “What did you tell her about me?” It still rankled, seeing the way that woman had looked at her, all long-faced and sad-sacked.

Spencer sighed. “Does it really matter?”

“To me, yeah.” She nudged her chin at him. “C’mon. Fess up. What’d you say?”

He worked his jaw. “I told her you were a one-night stand who didn’t understand the concept.”

Un-freaking-believable. “She bought that?”

“That you and I would have sex?” With a sardonic glare, he said, “Yeah, she bought it.”

“No, I mean that I would track you down here and act all stalkerish and clingy and shit?”

His expression didn’t change. “She bought it.”

“Huh. That makes me sound really…dysfunctional. And maybe dangerous.” She thought about it and grinned. “Not bad. I can live with that.”

He rolled his eyes. “The bet?”

It wouldn’t hurt to clean up her language. She’d always meant to anyway, but when she got annoyed, stuff just came out of her mouth. “I dunno. What do I get when I win?”

“What do you want?”

Perfect opening. Refusing to admit, even to herself, how much his answer mattered, she said, “Your help with checking out the bar and grill and, if necessary, righting things there.”

His gaze searched hers for only a moment before he nodded agreement.

No way. That was too easy. “Seriously?”

He sat back in the seat and crossed his arms. “I’d have done that anyway. So yeah, why not?”

“You…” She closed her mouth and frowned. He’d planned to assist her all along? “You’ll help me? For real?”

“I can’t control you, so I know you’re going to do it either way.” Gently, he tacked on, “Did you really think I’d let you get involved on your own?”

Did he really think he’d have any say-so in that? Not likely.

Two emotions pulled at her: resentment that he wanted to control her, because no way in hell would she ever let that happen again, and a twinge of…maybe relief.

Because he seemed to care what happened to her.

Dumb, dumb, dumb. She worked best unhindered by emotion. It was tough enough worrying about Jackson, but she owed him big-time, so of course she wanted him safe. The last thing she needed was to start fretting about Spencer, too.

And thinking of Jackson…

While she had Spencer in an agreeable mood, why not press for more? Taking the seat opposite him at the table, she thought it through, then ventured cautiously, “Okay. Since that was already a given, maybe…” she drew a deep breath “…you could be my escort to Jackson’s wedding?”

“Done.” He thrust out his hand.

Whoa. His fast agreement left her feeling played. But damn it, she didn’t want to go to a wedding. Since she had to go, she didn’t want to go by herself.

He waited.

“If I can’t swear,” she warned, “you can’t, either.”

“No problem.” He kept his hand extended, his expression expectant.

Uncertainty left her on edge. Oh, she trusted that she could win the stupid bet and all payments would be a moot point, but still… “What kind of kiss are we talking about?”

Suddenly his annoyance melted away. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Nothing to distress you, I promise.”

Yeah, well, the way he said that—with so much satisfaction—sort of distressed her more than anything. But Arizona shored up her pride and gripped his hand. “Get your suit ready, Spence, because I know I’ll win the bet.”

He let her slide on shortening his name—which was something she knew annoyed him. “If you say so.” He retained his hold on her hand. “I would have gone with you to the wedding anyway, so it’s no skin off my nose.”

Touching him did funny things to her stomach, made her feel unsettled and jumpy and too warm. Pulling her hand free, she pushed from her seat and glared down at him. “If you would have already done both those things, then I’m not really getting anything in the bet!”

“But you already agreed.” He smiled. “You even shook on it. And somehow, I just know you’re true to your word.”

Like he really knew jackola about her or her morals? Fat chance. She headed for the coffee carafe and a new mug. “Fine. Whatever. Now, about that bar…”

“Understand, Arizona. Even if you lose the bet—”

“I won’t.” She couldn’t. Kisses? No, she couldn’t, wouldn’t let that happen.

“I’m still going with you to the wedding—”

“We’ll see.” But she was so relieved to hear it. Going with Spencer would make the formal affair a little more bearable.

“—and I’m still going to help you with the bar.”

“Great. Glad to hear it.”

“But I want you to listen to me, and listen good.”

Here we go. She poured a fresh cup of coffee and came back to the table. “Let’s hear it.”

“Since you want my help, I have a few rules.”

“Like?”

“Give me the name and address and I’ll scope it out.” He looked stern, even foreboding. “In the meantime, you will not do anything on your own. Don’t go there, don’t even go near there. I don’t want them to know who you are.”

Arizona laughed. “Sorry, Spence-my-buddy, but it’s too late for that. I’ve been there twice already, and they’ve more than taken notice of me, so…” She shrugged. “I’m balls-deep in this thing, and we gotta go in tomorrow night, because they’re expecting me. Be there or be square.”

* * *

THE SECOND SPENCER STEPPED into the family-owned diner, he saw Trace sitting toward the back, drinking a Coke and eating a burger. Innocuous enough, or at least it should have been.

But no way in hell would anyone not notice Trace Miller. More than any other man he knew, this one exuded extreme capability. He was part of a trio that Spencer had met after tailing Arizona right into the middle of a setup. She’d been in danger, or so he’d thought. There was no way he could have known she had an elite ops group looking out for her. The trio had incredible contacts, far reaching influence and the ability to back up the badass swagger.

Not that any of them swaggered, really. Well, maybe Jackson, but that had more to do with Jackson as a man than with his expertise at utilizing deadly skill. If Spencer had to guess, he’d say Jackson was born cocky.

This one, Trace Miller—most likely an alias—was a cool cucumber. GQ looks didn’t conceal his edge. As a bounty hunter, Spencer had learned to size up people quickly in order to gauge the danger in any situation. He’d pegged Trace as a take-charge, protect-the-innocent but get-it-done personality. Suave, wealthy, efficient…and deadly when necessary.

The trio seemed to trust him—to a degree. He had no illusions about their cautious natures. They’d already dug through his background, unearthed things he’d rather keep private, and probably knew him as well as he knew himself. Not that they said much about it. So far, there’d been no reason.

Spencer didn’t take the association lightly, and beyond that, he hated to ask for favors. He especially hated to admit he might not be able to handle things on his own. If Arizona wasn’t at risk, he’d do things his way and accept the consequences.

He wasn’t without his own ability.

But she was involved. Hell, she was in it up to her pretty little nose, and that changed everything. He knew the trio cared about her, that they’d made her a priority. Having backup, just in case things went sideways, only made sense. He wanted her safe, damn it.