A Perfect Storm

He didn’t understand her.

They hadn’t said much since he’d more or less dragged her inside—away from Marla—with rushed excuses. He felt her amusement, and it nettled him. He felt her curiosity, and that worried him more.

“Food smells good.”

Standing at the stove turning chops, Spencer glanced back at her. An olive branch? From Arizona? He wasn’t fool enough to reject it.

“Thanks. We would have had steaks on the grill, but—”

“You didn’t want Marla to see us together.” Arizona grinned. “I get it.” She lifted her hand as if shooting a gun. “The lady’s got you in her sights and she’s taking aim.”

The microwave dinged, so he took out the potatoes. “Marla misunderstands the situation.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. She knows you’re not hooked yet, or she wouldn’t be so insecure about things.” Snorting, Arizona added, “I can’t believe you told her we slept together.”

His neck stiffened. “It was as good an excuse as any.”

“Yeah, maybe. But now she knows better.”

Going still, Spencer swallowed a groan. “You told her?” Marla would likely ramp up her efforts if she knew the truth.

“Not really on purpose.” Arizona’s gaze was so intent, it burned him.

He split the potatoes and dropped in butter. He almost hated to ask, but… “How does that conversation accidentally happen?”

“When she found out I wasn’t going all she-devil over the idea of you boinking her, she said she knew.” Nonchalantly, Arizona added, “Something about you being such a stud-muffin in the sack that if I’d ever had a taste of what you have to offer, I’d be fighting tooth and nail to keep it all to myself.”

Heat crawled up his neck. “That’s baloney.”

“Hey, she said it, not me. I was notably skeptical.”

Figured. “Questioned my prowess, huh?”

“She didn’t really mention your, er, prowess. She just said you’re well hung.”

He damn near dropped the plate of potatoes. Slowly, he turned his head to stare at her.

Unfazed, Arizona asked, “Wouldn’t that just make things more unpleasant?”

Oh, God. No way was he prepared for this conversation. Later, maybe. After he’d had time to formulate what to say, how to reassure her. How to approach the conversation in a detached, casual… Who was he kidding?

He couldn’t discuss the size of his junk with her. Not ever.

He cleared his throat and turned back to his food prep. “Just like women, to stand around gossiping.” He could only imagine Marla’s reaction to Arizona and her uncensored ways.

“You know, I asked her for specifics, but she wouldn’t share.”

He jerked around to face her again. “You asked Marla for details about me in bed with her?”

Arizona shrugged. “She made me curious with all her moony-eyed, drooling enthusiasm.”

Curious was…maybe good. Better than fear. He considered her candor, her ease in talking to him about such private things. That had to be a sign of trust, didn’t it?

Brightening, Arizona said, “You’re thinking of telling me?”

He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t tell her a thing—not yet anyway. “Maybe later.”

“Why wait?”

He turned off the stove. “Dinner is almost ready.”

She frowned but said, “Good, because I’m starved.”

Thank God for the safer subject. “When did you last eat?”

“I don’t know.”

Never the expected answer from Arizona. One day he’d get used to that. If he knew her long enough, which was doubtful. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I had a candy bar around lunchtime.”

“Nothing since then?”

She shook her head.

“What’d you have for breakfast?”

“Coffee with you.”

His head started to pound. “Dinner the night before?”

She thought about it, then shook her head again.

Frustration edged in. “Why would you not eat?”

“I just forget sometimes.” She left her chair and approached the stove. “Can I do anything to help get the show on the road here? My stomach is growling.”

While she sniffed the pork chops, Spencer looked at the top of her head, at the shiny dark hair, the crooked part. Everything about her seemed endearing.

If a hedgehog could be endearing. “You can set the table if you want.”

“Sure thing.” Bumping him with her hip, she grinned and said, “A proper place setting is one of the things I learned in the school that Jackson sent me to. But I’m guessing you’re more into informality, right?”

“Casual works for me.” After first meeting Arizona, he’d tried to look up her background but found very little. He assumed Jackson was responsible for keeping her off the grid; it was how that elite trio worked. The less info out there, the better they liked it.

It fascinated Spencer, watching Arizona move around his kitchen, seeing her go on tiptoe to reach into cabinets. She’d again left her sneakers by the front door, and her bare feet were narrow, cute. Slender hands, small wrists.

So fundamentally female—but such a live wire and always unpredictable.

Hoping to sound cavalier, he said, “Tell me about the school.”

With no sign of offense, she said, “It was this exclusive all-girl finishing school. Real hoity-toity.” She flashed him another grin. “Not exactly my speed, but Jackson paid through the nose, so they were always nice.”

Spencer stared at her. Good God, they still had those? “You’re serious?”

“Sure.” Carrying two plates to the table, Arizona said, “I mean, no one looking for me would have thought to find me there, right?”

“I can’t imagine finding any young lady there.” But Arizona? In a structured routine meant to stuff societal rules down her throat? “What was it like?”

“Just an education, and a few classes on things like—” She swept her hand over the table. “Etiquette. Not that this setting really counts, but you get my drift.”

“You went along with that?”

“Why not? The idea was sort of twofold. I figured I could learn how to blend in, and though he didn’t say it, Jackson figured he’d have me locked down and out of trouble.” She shook her head with some fond memory. “Jackson can be a real card.”

Jackson had his sympathy. Teasing, Spencer asked, “Were you getting into trouble even then?”

She paused, made a face. “I think mostly he wanted me out of his apartment because I came on to him.”

Flattened, Spencer stood there, mute.

Arizona glanced at him. “Dumb, huh?”

“I never…” He shook himself. “You…?”

“Snap out of it, Spence. Sheesh, I didn’t expect you to get all tongue-tied over sex.”

“Sex?” Had she slept with Jackson then? A red haze gathered in his vision. That son of a—

“Keep up, will you?” She rolled her eyes. “I offered, Jackson refused, and then he was different. Maybe uncomfortable. How should I know?”

“He refused?”

Sighing, a little dreamy, Arizona said softly, “Yeah, he did.”

Suddenly he understood. “You thought to repay him, didn’t you?”

“No. Well…maybe.” She made a face. “Something like that, I guess. But Jackson had this heart-to-heart with me, and he was…kind.”

So kind that he’d packed her off to a stuffy school where she wouldn’t fit in? “Yeah, he’s a prince.”

“I know.” Still wearing that small smile, she said, “I suggested going to a school, but I didn’t expect that school. I just wanted to not be dumb, you know? But we talked about it, and I liked the idea.” She flashed him a look. “I had no idea it’d cost so much, though.”

“Jackson paid for it all?”

“Yeah. Insane, huh?” Going back to the cabinets for tableware, she said, “The way that guy blows money—”

“Think of it as an investment in your future.” If he hadn’t met Jackson, if he didn’t know him as an honorable man in love with a different woman, Spencer might have been a little jealous. Not that he had the right. Not that he even wanted to think along those lines.

But knowing that Arizona had once offered herself to the other man, he couldn’t deny the twinge of resentment. Jackson had done the right thing in turning her down.

And when the time came, he would do the right thing, too. He would do what was best for her.

“That’s almost exactly what Jackson said.”

After stirring the steamed vegetables one more time, Spencer put them in a bowl and carried them to the table. He dropped a potato and one chop on Arizona’s plate, then his own.

He had a lot more questions, but he also wanted to feed her. “What would you like to drink?”

“Milk would be good.”

Why that surprised him, he couldn’t say. “Milk it is.” As he filled her glass, he asked, “So you liked the school?”

“It was okay.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except that they tattled a lot. Their loyalty was to Jackson. I mean, he paid, so that makes sense. But still, I couldn’t even dodge out for a day or two without them telling him.”

Keeping himself in check, Spencer asked, “Why did you dodge out?”

“I get restless.” She eyed her food with significance.

He joined her at the table with a glass of iced tea. “Go ahead. Dig in.”

She surprised him again by showing impeccable manners. She put her napkin in her lap, cut a small piece of her pork chop, chewed quietly.

He took great pleasure in watching her. “Good?”

“Mmm. Delicious.” Her bright gaze went over him. “Sex, cooking, kicking as—er, butt. Is there anything you aren’t good at?”

“Good catch.” She’d almost cursed—and then she would have owed him that kiss. Refusing to acknowledge his disappointment, Spencer forked up a big bite of buttered baked potato. “Don’t take Marla’s word on the sex. As for kicking butt, I can hold my own, but I’ve gotten my fair share of bruises.”

“And modest, too.” She finished another bite. “Why shouldn’t I take Marla’s word?”

“You said it yourself, she has me in her sights. Wouldn’t do her much good to insult me, now, would it?”

“I guess not. But it was more than that. She made it sound like you were something special. Something more than—”

“So…” Finding it prudent to interrupt, Spencer asked, “What did you mean by blending in?”

She stalled, then her slender shoulder rolled. “What did I know of polite society? Even before I got caught up with the traffickers, my family was not what you’d call normal.”

“What would you call them?” he asked gently.

“Hmm. Well, my momma was mostly okay, I guess, except that she drank too often, and she put up with daddy and his cronies. And I can’t tell you much about my dad since I can’t curse.” She grinned. “Let’s just say he wouldn’t win any awards for father of the year.”

“That leaves open a whole lot of possibilities.”

“Yeah, well, figure the worst, and that was my father.” She lifted her glass of milk in salute.

The worst was…awful. But then, he’d already guessed as much.

She didn’t give him time to sympathize. “After the traffickers had me, well, you know how it goes. You get the bare minimum of everything.”

Minimum care, shelter…and food. His heart hurt. “No milk?”

“Not unless a customer gave it to me. And then I always figured it might be drugged or something. There was no real contact with the outside world except during a deal, so I had no way of staying up on current affairs. In other words, I was dumber than a rock, uneducated, uncouth… Even you noticed the way I talk, right?”

Guilt swamped him. The last thing she needed from him was criticism. “I know you choose to be coarse, honey. It’s not that you don’t know any other way.”

“Because Jackson sent me to that school. End of story.”

But it wasn’t and he knew it. “You are far from dumb.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Because she had her last bite of food in her mouth, she just nodded.

He wanted to ask her if she’d finished the school, if she’d gotten a degree, but he feared the answer. When the opportunity presented itself, he’d ask Jackson. “All done?”

She sat back in her seat with a sigh. “That was great. Thanks. I can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me. Maybe Jackson, but that would have been before the school.”

“Your mother cooked?”

She laughed but cut it off real quick. “Not really, no.”

Pushing his plate aside and crossing his arms on the table, Spencer asked the question burning in his mind. “How did the traffickers get you?”

“You really want to hear this?”

More than anything, he wanted her to trust him. He had to think that confiding in someone else would help ease the pain she carried inside. “If you don’t mind telling me.”

“It’s not like it’s a secret. Well, I mean it is, to most people. But not to anyone who already knows me and what I do, and that I was…”

Spencer waited for her to wind down.

Bravado in place, she smirked at him. “My daddy traded me to them for drugs.”

Leveled by a dozen different emotions, most prominently rage and pity, Spencer swallowed twice. “How old were you?”

“Seventeen.” She chewed her bottom lip, lost in thought. “The older I got, the more his buddies noticed. I heard a few lewd suggestions, stuff said sort of as a joke—but not really, know what I mean?”

“Yes.” Bastards.

“I sort of grew into my looks. Pretty soon, they weren’t joking anymore.”

Jesus. He knew how it worked; human trafficking wouldn’t be profitable without buyers. But still, with it so personal, fury left him sick at heart. “Your father knew them?” Knew what they’d do with her? It couldn’t get more personal than that.

“Yeah, he knew. I think he admired them for forcing girls into prostitution.” Her lip curled. “The sick pricks.”

“What about your mother?”

Arizona shrugged. “She let him get away with a lot, including using some of the other girls, even though she knew their situation. But I guess selling me off was too much for her.” She looked down at her fork. “Unfortunately, when she tried to stop them, they killed her.”

Jesus. And that meant her father would have been a loose end. Already knowing the answer, Spencer asked, “They killed your father, too?” Had she seen it all?

“They did, and I was glad.”

So she’d had no one—not that her folks had been much to count on anyway. He had to focus on the fact that she’d eventually escaped. “How’d you get away?”

“After more than a month, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew if I ran they’d try to kill me, but…” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I was pretty much dead anyway, you know?”

He had nothing to say to that.

“We were at a truck stop, about to make a transaction, but when I saw a female trucker in an idling semi, I figured that might be my only chance.”

“You asked her for help?”

“Get real. I didn’t have time for pleasantries.” Her lips tilted in a half smile. “That poor woman. I ran over and jumped in her cab. My heart was pumping so fast and I was nearly hysterical. I locked the passenger door, and then I screamed right into her face—drive, drive, drive. Luckily for me…she did.”

CHAPTER FOUR

NO MATTER HOW SHE MADE LIGHT of it, the horror of the situation appalled Spencer. “I can imagine what she thought.”

“Yeah.” Arizona gave a soft laugh. “At first, she figured I was robbing her or something, and she looked ready to jump out of her skin. But then Jerry—”

“Jerry?”

“One of the goons hired as muscle to make sure no one got out of line.” She waved that off as unimportant. “Anyway, he came toward us, all fuming with blood in his eyes. When he pulled out his gun, she put that big rig in gear and rolled right out of there. Of course she wanted an explanation, so as soon as we’d covered a little ground, I told her a guy was trying to rape me. Not really a lie, but not the whole truth, either. I just…I couldn’t see going into all of it, you know?”

“I understand.” And he did. Too many women felt shame at what had been forced on them. Relaying details to a stranger would be painful.

“She wanted to take me to the cops, but I just wanted to be free.”

A small word—that meant so much.

“When she hit a quiet stretch of highway, I thanked her, and bailed.”

On her own? The idea of a seventeen-year-old abused girl finding shelter and safety boggled his mind. It was a wonder she’d survived—but she had, with attitude galore.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She shook her head at him. “But it was okay. Luckily it wasn’t a cold or rainy season. I boosted a car, but I still needed some paper, so I mugged a drug dealer.”

Paper, meaning money. But…she’d tangled with a dealer? “I hope that’s an exaggeration.”

“Nah. He was a little creep, and I let him think I was interested.” She snorted. “He rushed me to his room, and when he got all grabby, I snatched his gun from him.”

Hiding his horror, Spencer asked, “You shot him?”

She looked at him like he was nuts. “A gunshot would’ve drawn attention.”

And that had been her only reason for not murdering the guy? “I see.”

“I went old-school and pistol-whipped the punk.” She made a “clunk” motion with her hand. “Clubbed him right on his melon. I had to hit him twice to really put him out. The first one only dazed him. But when I left he was breathing.”

“And then you took his cash?”

“Yeah. I was hoping for enough to get food, but the dude had five C-notes!”

“Five hundred dollars?” Spencer whistled. Losing that much would put any crook into a foul mood. Thank God she’d gotten away. “You left the area?”

“Scooted right out of there, with his money and his gun.” Proud of herself, she grinned. “Within two days of running, I had a car, plenty of cash and a weapon. I headed to another town, found a place to stay. I figured what worked once would work again, so most of my spending money came from traveling to other areas and robbing drug dealers. Occasionally I cashed up by gambling.”

The idea of her besting an armed thug should have been ludicrous, but he’d seen her in action. Given her size and how she looked, she probably took plenty of guys by surprise. “You learned to fight by fighting?”

“Survival is a good teacher.” She smirked. “Back then, I preferred the gambling.”

“And now you prefer fighting?”

She didn’t answer that. “I win a lot because I’m a good cheat. I’m also a good thief, and I’m really good at picking locks.”

Because she’d spent so much time locked in.

With an effort, Spencer kept his tone neutral. “If those skills are what helped you get by, then I’m glad you had them.”

“Even though I broke into your house?”

Keeping his gaze on his tea glass, he offered, “You could have a key if you want.”

“Seriously? You trust me?”

He didn’t, not really. Not with everything. Definitely not with too much intimacy.

But with his belongings?

He met her mocking gaze. “Would you rob me?”

“No!”

“That’s what I thought. So why not give you a key?”

Skepticism kept her quiet for a long study. Finally she smiled. “That’s real big of you, Spence.”

“Spencer,” he corrected with strained patience. He knew she shortened his name whenever she got annoyed—or felt vulnerable.

“But I don’t need a key.” She turned away with feigned disinterest. “Not like I plan to come here that often.”

Probably not, but he wouldn’t mind if she did. Whether arguing with her, wrestling with her, or having dinner, he enjoyed her company. “Then feel free to break in whenever the mood strikes you.”

“Pffft.” She half laughed. “You just took all the fun out of it.”

Spencer smiled in return, but he in no way felt amused. He couldn’t imagine what kind of guts it took, or how it would shape a person, to live through what she’d described. He knew the basics from Jackson, but while she was in a talkative mood, he wanted to hear it—all of it—from her perspective.

“So how does Jackson factor in?”

“Yeah, that’s the interesting part, huh?” A little livelier now, she leaned forward and smiled at him. “See, the bastards didn’t take kindly to me getting away, but when they finally caught up to me, they didn’t want me for the usual.”

To sell, barter and abuse. Gently, he asked, “Why did they want you?”

“To teach the others a lesson—by killing me.”

Under the circumstances, Spencer let the curse pass. They were bastards—and so much more. In contrast to the awful words, Arizona’s cavalier mood made it all too clear how much it still hurt her.

“They…” She faltered, then rallied again. “They roughed me up. I tried to fight, but they tied my hands behind me, and then…” She hesitated, her brows pulling down in a small frown.

It gave him warning of the awfulness of the details she’d share. He braced himself, but not enough.

Voice quieter now, she whispered, “They tossed me over a bridge into a river.”

Air left his lungs; his muscles bunched. He’d known, but hearing it from her made it more—more vivid. “They wanted to drown you.”

She shook off the melancholy. “It was such a miserable night, storming like crazy with lightning cracking everywhere and thunder so loud, you could feel it. I was so scared that when they threw me over, I barely had the sense to stop flailing and try to land feetfirst, to suck in air before that icy water closed in around me.” Using both hands, she pushed her hair back from her face. “I pretty much figured I was dead.”

“Jesus.” His stomach bottomed out. He desperately wanted to hold her, to draw her into his lap and hug her tight and tell her…what? That nothing bad would ever happen to her again?

He knew she’d never allow that, so he settled on reaching for her hand. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”

“Yeah, pretty sucky, right?” After one brief squeeze, she pulled away. “I managed to get my head above water, but it wasn’t easy, and I knew I couldn’t do that for long. And even if I found a way to make it to shore, they’d just throw me back in again. Or shoot me.”

Imagining the panic she had to have suffered left Spencer hurting for her.

“For certain they weren’t going anywhere until they knew I was gone for good. See, they’d already told me that they needed the police to find my body. That way, they could tell the other women about it and use it as discouragement—”

“I get the picture.” And he wanted to kill them, all of them. But that satisfaction would be denied him; they were already dead.

“They weren’t counting on Jackson, though.” She propped her chin on a fist and smiled. “Poor guy just sort of stumbled onto the whole mess. I’ll never understand why, but he jumped into the thick of things, annihilated the goons, and then…”

Spencer waited.

She sighed and met his gaze. “Jackson dove in after me.”

Off a bridge during a storm into dark waters. Thank God Jackson had been there. “How many men were there?”

“Three.” She grinned with delight at Jackson’s ability. “But when I think of how he looked that night, I don’t think it would’ve mattered if there was a dozen.”

Spencer couldn’t muster even the most meager smile. “Dead?”

“Eventually.” She flapped a hand. “I don’t know if he killed them or…”

“I know about the group, hon.”

She went still, then tipped her head to study him. After a few seconds, she said, “I’m not your hon, but okay, if you know about them, then you already know none of those cretins survived that night.”

Not touching her wasn’t an option. He reached for her slender hand again and moved his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m glad.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Appearing disconcerted, she glanced down at their clasped hands, cleared her throat and eased away. “So that’s it. You already know that Chandra, the head of the ring, got away that night. Because she hadn’t been in the car or standing there on the bridge, the guys never knew she was there in the first place. I didn’t know that they’d missed her presence, so I assumed she was part of the carnage.”