Nightfire

Reminding herself there was an issue here much more important than her own hormones waking up from hibernation, Allison stared down at the streets below. Cars were bumper to bumper in the rush-hour traffic. Windshield wipers swiped back and forth in syncopated rhythm. Thousands of people going home with nothing more on their minds than dinner with their families.

And somewhere down there was a man with a camera.

She turned slightly at the sound of men’s voices from the outer office. “Those men in the hall, are they with you?”

“No.” He stood beside her, following the movement of traffic. “They’re part of your father’s security team. I’m here to work with them, teach them what I know.”

She wondered briefly who had taught Kane. “And what about our friend with the camera?” she asked quietly.

Kane would have liked to tell her that they’d catch the guy in a day or two and she could go about her business as usual. But he never made promises and he never underestimated a potential problem.

“He’s already made a number of mistakes—stealing a car and losing the film for starters. My guess is that he’ll make more. He’s going to go after the wrong person, at the wrong time, and that’s when we’ll get him.”

She turned to him, hugging her arms tightly to her. “And which ‘wrong person’ do you think he’ll go after?”

He waited until her gaze lifted to his. “You.”

Allison’s eyes widened. “Well,” she said on a shaky laugh, “you certainly don’t mince words, do you?”

“Neither will a kidnapper.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and nodded slowly. “So what now?”

“For now, it would certainly make life easier if you’d do as your father asks and stay home from work for a few days.”

So they were back to that, Allison thought. She straightened her shoulders and leveled her gaze with Kane’s. “Do you have any children?”

She could have sworn she saw him flinch, but then wondered if she’d imagined it.

“No.”

“A wife?”

A hard glint entered his eyes. “No.”

“Then it might be difficult for me to explain this to you, Mr. Kane, but I’m going to try anyway. There are twenty-five children at St. Martin’s Center who look forward to seeing me. I take them to the movies, read to them, play games with them. All the things their drug-addicted or alcoholic mothers and fathers don’t do.”

Because she wanted him to understand, she leaned closer. “But there’s something else I do that’s even more important. I hold them. I kiss them. I tell them they’re special, then wipe their tears away when they don’t believe me. And then I hold them some more. For just a little while I share their pain, a pain that I thank God I never experienced, a pain that most people can’t possibly understand.”

Kane let the old ache pass through him, ignoring the fact that it seemed sharper this time. Deeper. If he’d wanted to, he could have told her that he did understand. He understood too damn well. But he said nothing.

Allison clenched her hands into fists, angry not only at the situation, but at herself for trying to explain to this man why the center and the children there were so important to her. Based on the hard-set expression on his face, he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. She wouldn’t have believed it possible for one man to be so cold.

She told herself it didn’t matter whether he understood or not, but that made it difficult to explain the profound sense of disappointment she suddenly felt. Needing to put some distance between herself and Kane, she turned away and walked back to her father’s desk.

“I’m just going to say this one more time,” she said quietly, but with resolution. “I have no intention of hiding out while some jerk is on the loose. Those children need me, and even more I need them. We’re practicing for a play right now, and I can’t afford to be away. I’ll stay at my father’s house for as long as it’s necessary, but that’s as far as I compromise. I’ll be going to the center every day except Tuesday, whether you like it or not.”

He didn’t like it, but short of tying the woman up—and he admitted to himself the idea held interesting possibilities—there wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do about it. It amazed him how quickly she’d shifted gears from fear to anger, and even though he decided he liked the way her green eyes lighted with determination, her insistence at keeping her regular schedule was going to make his life difficult. He sighed inwardly. It hardly would be the first time a woman had made his life difficult.

“Well, then, Miss Westcott—” he moved toward her, almost admiring the stubborn tilt of her chin as she held his gaze “—I guess we’ll just have to manage, won’t we?”

He felt her tense when he reached around her and picked up the photographs from the desk. He shuffled slowly through them, pausing at the picture of her in her underwear. Her bra was black and lacy, her matching panties a thin slip of fabric that one quick tug would easily remove. “But in the meantime, you might at least consider closing the blinds.”

Allison understood that Kane was trying to intimidate her. And it was working, dammit. Heat rushed up her neck as she watched him stare at her picture. She pulled the photo from his fingers. “I’ll do that.”

The door opened and Oliver walked back into the office. A frown knotted his forehead. “I’m afraid I’ve got to leave now, Allison. I have a dinner meeting in Los Angeles tonight with one of our main buyers and I have a plane to catch.” He picked up his briefcase under his desk, then gave Allison a kiss on the cheek.

She held onto his arm. “How can you leave right now? What if this guy is waiting for you?”

“I can’t stop my life anymore than you can, sweetheart.” Oliver took Allison’s chin in his hand and met her concerned gaze. “I’ve got two men coming with me. I’ll be home in a few days and we’ll talk then. In the meantime, you’ll be in good hands with Kane here.”

Good hands with Kane? “But, Dad—”

“Sorry, hon’.” He was already on his way out of the office. “Oh, and Allie—” he turned back around “—will you prepare the guest room for Kane? He’ll be staying at the house with us.”

Two

It was incredible how much one’s life could change in a matter of a few minutes.

Allison stared at Kane’s broad back, amazed at how smoothly he’d managed to maneuver her into the back corner of the crowded elevator and place himself between her and the rest of the people. The two men outside her father’s office had also squeezed into the elevator, and they stood by the doors like guards at a palace gate.

She knew she should feel comforted by all the brawn surrounding her, but what she felt was smothered. She’d been on her own since she was eighteen—the year her mother had died—and she was used to coming and going as she liked, without an escort and certainly without asking permission. Having all these watchdogs around was going to take some getting used to. And in the case of Thomas Kane, she thought irritably, the adjustment was going to be a big one.

She stared at the wide stretch of shoulders blocking her view and cursed the warmth curling downward from her stomach. It was bad enough, this feeling of being on a leash, but the edge that Kane put her on was what disturbed her most of all. What was it about him, anyway? She’d certainly never been attracted to this type of man before. But then, she’d never met a man like Kane before. And the few men she had dated had been…what? Ordinary, was the word that came to mind. She frowned at the thought. What was wrong with ordinary? Absolutely nothing. They’d been nice, interesting men.

And they’d left her feeling tepid as tap water.

What made Kane so different? She casually lifted her chin and slid a glance at him, determined to find fault. He was too tall, she decided. Good Lord, he towered over her. She hated having to crane her neck to meet someone’s eye. And he wasn’t exactly handsome, at least, not in the classical sense, though there were certainly women who were attracted to his kind of rugged masculinity. The men she’d always been drawn to had been good-looking, the type of face you’d see in a men’s fashion magazine. She stared at Kane’s profile, thinking he looked more like an advertisement for a military-commando movie. It was easy to picture this man slashing his way through a steamy jungle, sweat dripping from his half-naked body….

Stop that. She jerked away her gaze and stared at the empty space over the head of the man standing beside Kane. What in the world was she doing, dreaming up silly fantasies about a man she’d met only minutes before? Didn’t she have more important and certainly more serious things to think about? Things like some crazy following her, watching her, taking pictures…

The elevator stopped at the next floor, letting one person off and two more on. The bustling forced Kane’s body flush with hers. Embarrassment burned up her neck and over her cheeks as her breasts pressed into the solid muscle of his back. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beat low and hard. Instinct had her raising her hands to force some distance between them, but logic had her drop them away again. Something very basic told her that to touch this man was a dangerous thing to do. And most annoying of all, she observed, was that Kane appeared completely oblivious to the intimate contact of their bodies. He seemed much more interested in the control panel over the elevator doors.

By the time the elevator finally reached the lobby, Allison wasn’t sure her legs were sturdy enough to carry her out. She was almost thankful when Kane turned to her and took her by the arm.

“I’ll need your keys.”

“My keys?”

“Keys,” he repeated, leading her across the lobby. “You know, what you use to open doors and start cars.”

Frowning, she dug through her purse and pulled them out. “What do you—”

“Thanks.” He took them from her as they walked outside. It had stopped raining and slivers of blue sky rimmed the once ominous clouds. When they reached her minivan, Kane opened the passenger door and held it for her. Fuming, she got into the car, noticing the almost imperceptible nod that Kane gave the two security men who were getting into a white sedan three parking spaces away.

“I am capable of driving my own car,” she stated when he slid into the seat beside her and started the engine.

“Under normal circumstances, I’m sure that’s true.” He checked the side and rearview mirrors, then eased the van into traffic. “But what would you do if someone pulled up beside you, pointed a gun at you and told you to pull over?”

The idea of anyone pointing a gun at her made her stomach tighten. “I—I don’t know. How can anyone know what they’d do in a crisis?”

“You damn well better know.” He made a sudden U-turn in the middle of the street and headed west toward her apartment. “Your life may depend on it.”

She was still gripping the armrests from his unexpected turn. “Okay.” She thought for a moment. “I’d step on the accelerator.”

“Wrong. You slam on the brakes.”

“What?”

“First lesson, Allison. Listen carefully.” His eyes narrowed with intensity as he glanced at her. “Be aggressive, hit fast, hit hard, then get the hell out.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re actually serious. For God sake’s, Kane, we’re not talking about a military operation here.”

“And we’re not talking about the fairy kingdom of never-never land either, princess.”

Gritting her teeth, she bit back the first response that came into her mind and went with the second. “Don’t call me ‘princess.”’

“Stop acting like one.” Kane checked his rearview mirror again, satisfied that the sedan was still behind him. “You need to understand a few things. I don’t own a pair of kid gloves and I’m not here to hold your hand.”

Hold her hand. Allison wound her fingers so tightly around the armrests that the fabric creaked. “I think you better understand a few things yourself, Mr. Kane. I don’t need or want you to hold my hand. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

He slanted her a look and smiled. “Hold on to that thought. Lessons begin bright and early.”

She had no idea what he was talking about, nor did she care to ask. Kane pulled up in front of her apartment a few minutes later and after she packed a bag and watered her house plants, they were back on the road again, crossing the bridge over the sound, heading toward Fox Island. They’d be at her father’s house in about ten minutes and all she could think about was getting out of her heels, into a soft, comfortable pair of flats and her favorite sweatshirt.

To say that it had been a long day was putting it somewhat mildly.

“Oh, and one other thing,” Kane said suddenly, breaking the long silence. “I’ll need a list of men you’ve dated and/ or slept with.”

She hadn’t heard him right. She couldn’t have. He’d asked her for a list of lovers as casually as if he’d been asking her the time of day. She turned slowly in her seat and simply stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll need a list of men you’ve—”

“Don’t you dare say it again.” Her jaw was clenched so tight she could barely speak. “Don’t even think it. Whom I’ve dated, or as you so eloquently put it, ‘slept with,’ is nobody’s business but mine.”

She decided it was a good thing after all that Kane was driving. If she’d been behind the wheel right now she probably would have driven off the bridge.

“It’s not uncommon for the victim to have known their abductor beforehand,” Kane said. “Quite often, intimately.”

Allison settled back in her seat. “I guarantee that whoever this creep is, it’s no one I know or who knows me. Sorry, Kane, but I suggest you find a more willing subject if you’re looking for kicks, and while you’re at it, you could certainly use a more creative approach.”

He smiled then, a slow, confident smile that made Allison’s insides churn. “Princess, let me tell you something—When I ‘get my kicks’ as you say, I’m very creative, and the lady is always willing.”

She didn’t doubt for a second what he said was true. She’d already had a firsthand experience with the man’s appeal. Because she didn’t want him to see her cheeks turn red, she turned away and stared out the window. All she could manage to say was, “Don’t call me ‘princess.”’

This was not going to be easy.

Kane stood at the southwest edge of the cliffs behind the Westcott estate and scanned an experienced eye over the luxuriant grounds. Inside a five-foot brick wall surrounding the property, flowering trees and perfectly manicured shrubs nearly engulfed the two-story Spanish-style house. The greenery was aesthetically pleasing, but a virtual haven for uninvited guests, he thought with more than a twinge of annoyance.

And the house had more windows than Seattle had rain.

One specific window on the second story—the bedroom Allison slept in—drew his attention, and he mentally calculated his position. Based on the angle of the shot, Kane was sure this was the spot where their “shutterbug” had been standing when he’d taken his picture. The rocks here were big enough to easily hide behind and access from the beach below was an easy climb. The spot was so remote that it was doubtful any neighbor would have spotted him, and even if Allison had seen him, she was so naive she probably would have just waved at the guy. Hell, she probably would have invited him in for lunch.

He could still see the look on her face when she’d stared at the photograph of herself in her underwear. Her skin had paled against her dark hair and her fingers had felt like slivers of ice when he’d taken the picture out of her hands. He knew she was scared to death, he’d seen the fear in her wide eyes. Yet still she refused to spend the next few days here, inside, where she would be safer, out of danger.

Why, dammit? He shook his head irritably. What difference could it possibly make if she skipped a few days at the center and postponed the kids’ show? So maybe the kids would be disappointed. Disappointment never killed a kid. If it did, he’d have been dead by the ripe old age of seven.

He turned sharply at the shriek of a sea gull overhead and watched the bird as it swooped low over the water. For some strange reason, the smooth motion of the creature made him think of Allison. She moved with that same powerful and elegant grace. And even though he knew that she’d studied ballet, hers was a grace that no amount of dance lessons could ever teach. It was completely natural, utterly feminine and disturbingly sensual.

He could still feel the soft pressure of her breasts on his back when they’d stood in the elevator this morning. The heat of her body had burned straight through his clothes and scorched his skin. Thirty seconds more with her pressed against him like that and he would have broken out in a sweat. He was going to have to be careful to keep his distance from her, he resolved. A woman like Allison could easily mess up a man’s thinking, make him lose control. And control was something Kane had no intention of relinquishing.

He thought of the file he’d read on the plane this morning. Allison’s file. She’d graduated from the dance academy six years ago, and the rest of her life had been as easy to read as a children’s book, complete with pictures. Her career as a dancer had been notable, but her offstage life seemed to be virtually nonexistent. Though there’d been an occasional boyfriend mentioned in an entertainment magazine here and there, as far as he could see she’d had no serious affairs or rejected lovers.

He couldn’t help the smile as he recalled the look of indignation on her face when he’d asked her about her personal life. He’d had to ask, that was his job, but any interest he might have in Allison’s love life was purely professional. Unless one of those men was tied to the case, they had no relevance at all. They were simply nameless and faceless lovers who had no bearing on the current situation.

So why, then, was he trying to put a face to one of those men, wondering if he’d been another dancer she’d worked with, or maybe one of the dozens of admirers she must have had? What difference could it possibly make?

It didn’t, he told himself. He was just getting restless. He’d worked nonstop for the last twelve months. There’d been little time for women, or any form of recreation, for that matter. As soon as this case was finished, he intended to find himself a long-legged blonde, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a quiet shack on an isolated beach in Bermuda.

He could see the ocean waves now, feel the warm breeze, a woman’s long, slender legs wrapped around his bare body, her dark hair shining as it billowed out across the hot sand.

Dark hair? What happened to his blonde?

Damn. He rubbed a hand over his face. He needed this vacation sooner than he’d thought. In the meantime, he resolved, he’d better keep his mind on what Oliver Westcott was paying him to do, which was to keep his daughter safe. Kane was comfortable with the competence of the men that had accompanied Oliver to Los Angeles and also with the three men who had been assigned to stay at the house on twenty-four-hour watch. Two of the men were to watch the outside perimeter and a third man was to tail Allison while she was en route from work and home. That was the trickiest part, keeping tabs on her once she left the estate.

He turned back to the house and stared at Allison’s bedroom window again. His frown deepened. Why couldn’t the woman understand she’d be better off here, in the safety of her own house? Any other woman would have run home and bolted the doors. Lord knew it certainly would have made his life a hell of a lot easier.

But then—Kane let out a long breath of exasperation—Allison Westcott was obviously not just any other woman. And she certainly was not going to make his life easier.

She came out of the house then and moved up the stone walkway toward him, with the ease of a woman who was comfortable with her surroundings. He watched as she approached, noting that she’d changed into a long oversize sweatshirt that matched the color of the pink azaleas along the path. Her pants—or whatever the modern fashion hounds called them—looked more like black tights than anything else, and while she certainly hadn’t dressed to impress him, she looked so damn sexy that a jolt of desire shot through him before he had time to think.

He hoped like hell this job would be over soon.

“Thought you might like a cup of coffee.” She stopped two feet away and handed him a steaming mug. “I hope black is all right.”

Nodding gratefully, he accepted the cup, annoyed with himself that he’d intentionally avoided touching her hand. He watched as she combed her fingers through her hair, then folded her arms tightly in front of her. A nervous gesture. She moved to the edge of the cliff and stared silently at the approaching sunset.

“I noticed you were working with the alarm system this afternoon,” she said finally, but did not turn to look at him.

“Just checking it out.”

As she turned back to him, the ocean breeze tugged at the wild mass of curls around her face. He watched in fascination as her hand swept the hair away from her cheek.

“And?”

He’d never been one to soften the truth before, and he didn’t intend to start now. “Before I ordered a few adjustments, I doubt it would have kept out the Avon lady.”

She winced, then recovered quickly. “And now?”

He shrugged. “Now we probably only have to worry about insurance salesmen.”

So the man does have a sense of humor, Allison thought with mild surprise. She felt the tightness in her shoulders ease, as she realized that if anyone did try to break in, they not only had to get through the two men stationed outside and Kane’s updated alarm system, but they had to get through Kane himself. Something told her that was not an easy thing to do. “So what happens now?”

He wished she would stop chewing on her bottom lip. Though he knew she didn’t intend the gesture to be provocative, that didn’t make it any less so. He took a sip of his coffee, glad that it was as hot as it was strong. “Ideally, we find the guy before he makes a move.”

“And if we don’t find him?”

The waves lapped on the beach below and the distant sound of a speedboat hummed in the moist salt air. Kane was well aware of the fact that an approach to the Westcott estate from the water was a strong possibility. He watched the boat until it looped away. “Either way, we’re ready for him.”

She hugged her arms tightly around her. “We moved into this house when I was ten. I played on the beach all day and at night, as well. I never once felt there was any danger.” She sighed and stared back at the house. “It’s so strange, not feeling safe here, not knowing whom to trust.”

“That’s the easy part.” His eyes narrowed as he lifted his cup to his mouth again. “Don’t trust anyone.”

“What about you, Kane?” She glanced back at him. “Am I supposed to trust you?”

His jaw tightened. “I’m here to do a job. That you can depend on. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She sent him an exasperated look. “Has anyone ever told you it’s not healthy to go around suspecting everyone?”

“It’s not healthy to be dead, either.”

Allison felt the impact of Kane’s words like a punch in the stomach. He never let up, not even for a second, and she wondered if some sadistic part of him enjoyed keeping her on the edge. “Thanks for the reassurance. I’m sure that little bit of advice will help me sleep much better tonight.”

She started to walk away then, but he caught her by the wrist.

“Allison.”

She wasn’t sure what surprised her more, the gentle touch of his hand or the uncharacteristic softness in his voice. She stared at his fingers wrapped around her wrist, then lifted her eyes to his. For a brief second, a flash of something—tenderness?—was there in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she might have imagined it.

“I’m not here so you can sleep better at night,” he said quietly. “You can’t let your guard down, not even for a minute. My job is to keep whoever this guy is out there from getting close to you. Your job is to be ready and prepared for anything. You’ll get no kind words from me, no assurances, because there are none. That’s how I operate and that’s why your father hired me.”