Savor the Danger

He gave one sharp nod. “You want me to eat, you gotta kiss me again.”

Forget bargains. His obvious need made everything else unimportant. Already reaching for him, she said, “Okay.”

His eyes blazed. He lowered himself to her.

And a knock sounded on her front door.

Alani went stiff with apprehension.

Jackson cursed under his breath.

The knock sounded again, more urgent this time, and then she heard the unmistakable sound of a key in the lock.

Ohmigod. That had to be her brother; no one else had a key to her place. She shoved frantically at Jackson’s shoulders. “Jackson, move!”

On a ragged groan, he started to do just that—and the door opened.

They both swiveled their heads.

Not only her brother stood there, but Dare, too. Both men froze.

Alani’s heart shot into her throat. She was trying to think of what to say, how to ease the awkwardness, when Jackson sat up and pulled her into his side.

As if awkward situations didn’t faze him at all, he said, “I’d shoot you both for rotten timing, but I guess we had to do this sooner or later.”

His face drawn from his surprise, his eyes narrowed and his demeanor mean, Trace slammed the door. “Yeah,” he said, and he started forward. “Let’s do this now.”

JACKSON WAS MORE than a little amazed when, before he could even decide if he wanted to face off with Trace or not, Alani jumped up to stand in front of him. She spread her slim arms wide and braced her feet apart. “Knock it off, Trace. Right now.”

Furious, Trace drew up short. “I knew you were fibbing when you told me you were at the movies.”

“Sorry about that.” Alani squirmed in guilt. “I just… I needed some time.”

“So I see.”

Brows climbing high, Dare leaned around Trace to see Jackson. “She’s protecting you?”

Suffering his own surprise, Jackson settled back into the couch. “Guess so.”

With his first good look at Jackson, Dare recoiled. “Jesus, man. You look like—”

“Shit. I know.” He caught Alani’s waist and plunked her down…right into his lap. Her backbone went stiff, probably from shock at his daring.

To her brother, he said, “Get a grip, Trace. We need to talk.”

Held back by Alani’s displeasure and probably his own sense of fair play, Trace locked his jaw. “It hardly needs explanation.”

“’Fraid it does.”

Stiffening even more, Alani gasped and jerked around to face him. “Don’t you dare.”

Her appalled tone quadrupled Dare and Trace’s curiosity. Trace asked, “Don’t dare do what?”

Jackson didn’t want to embarrass her, so it was with a lot of regret that he said reasonably, “They have to know, honey.”

“Jackson…” she warned.

“One of you better spit it out,” Dare said. “My imagination is in hyperdrive.”

“I think someone drugged me.”

Dare and Trace pulled back. “Well, hell,” Dare said. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

Alani tried to leave him, but Jackson held on, and short of causing a scene, she couldn’t.

Trace, never one to miss a thing, glared.

Dare sat on the edge of the chair, patience personified. “All right, let’s hear it.”

Alani struggled anew, and that prodded Trace’s anger. In a deadly whisper, he ordered, “Let her go.”

His deadly whispers didn’t faze Jackson. “Not happening.”

Trace started forward.

And just that quick, Alani stopped fighting him and instead went back to defending him. “Stop right there, Trace! I mean it.”

Trace pulled up short, his left eye twitching.

No sense in dragging this out and making it worse, Jackson decided. “I woke up this morning with—”

“Jackson!”

“—Alani in bed with me.”

A collective breath-holding took place. Hell, he could almost hear heartbeats, it got so damn quiet. Jackson looked at Dare and then Trace.

Giving Alani a slight hug, he said, “Thing is, I have no recollection at all of getting her there.”

Beyond their slack-jawed surprise, neither Dare nor Trace reacted.

Jackson shrugged. “For a few hours this morning I was sick as hell, seeing double, light-headed, weak.”

Alani looked guilty, probably because she’d stormed out on him. But he understood her reaction. Always, whenever he’d considered getting her under him, he’d thought in terms of gentleness, easing her into things, showing deference to her lack of experience and the trauma of her past.

Had he been gentle with her? God, he hoped so, because her proverbial “morning after” sure had sucked. It’d been memorable—for being so awful.

Jackson hugged her again. Of course Dare and Trace both noticed.

“All I can think is that someone drugged me, but I don’t know who would do that, or how or why. Far as I can remember, I spent the day working on my house.” The place was livable but far from complete, so he preferred to stay in his current residence still. His plan had been to get Alani involved, using her expertise as a professional decorator. Whether she’d accepted it or not, he knew the sexual spark was there between them, and time together, alone, would only work in his favor.

But now…hell, he could maybe use the plan to soften her up after whatever had transpired yesterday.

“You see anyone while you were working?”

Jackson shook his head. “Not that I can remember.”

Silence reigned.

Since Alani burned with embarrassment and Trace looked lethal, Dare took over.

“If you were drugged, it could’ve been Rohypnol. Easy enough to slip that into a drink. It’s a sedative, so it could make you sick, and it can cause that amnesiatic effect.”

Jackson’s brain throbbed even more. “A date-rape drug? Seriously?”

Alani panicked. “We need to take him to the hospital!”

“No.” Jackson held her when she started to stand. He had no intention of getting on anyone’s radar. When he found out who had done this, he’d handle it himself, without the interference of local officials.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Alani told him with venom.

“Too late,” Trace said.

Jackson ignored the insult. He got where Trace was coming from. Alani’s brother didn’t like being blindsided with the idea that his baby sister was in a sexual relationship. Understandable.

Jackson only wished he could remember the sexual relationship.

Again, Dare interceded. “I’m not sure the hospital would do him much good, hon. Urine screens don’t look for Rohypnol. A blood test would be better but usually hospital labs don’t have the equipment to screen for it, so it’d have to be a send-out—and that takes time.”

“And by then, I’ll be fine,” Jackson told her. He ran his hands up and down her arms, hoping to reassure her. “I’m already feeling better, in fact.” A lot better, given how she’d kissed him, how quickly she’d melted once he got his mouth on hers.

Soon as he could get rid of Dare and Trace, he’d show her how great he felt.

Course, he needed to get it together. He absolutely couldn’t continue the hot and heavy relentless pursuit. Alani could take it as a lack of respect, maybe think he only wanted one thing from her, when in fact, he wasn’t sure how much he wanted.

Sex, definitely. Conversation, sure. He wanted to protect her, and he wanted her to trust him. What all that meant, he couldn’t say. He refused to jump the gun and mire himself in emotional restraints.

Once he had her, he’d be able to regroup and become a gentleman again. Maybe. With the way she pushed all his buttons, he couldn’t be sure—

Alani fretted. “I don’t know…”

“If we’re assuming he was given a roofie, then he can ride it out,” Dare told her.

“Well…” She looked at Jackson again, full of soft concern and maybe even caring. “Okay.”

Trace shook his head in disgust. “It wasn’t really up to you, Alani.”

No, it wasn’t. Never would Jackson let a woman dictate to him. It wasn’t in his nature. But to soften that reality, he said, “Trust me, Alani, I’m okay.”

Her censuring gaze swept the room. “As if any of you would admit to needing help.”

Dare took that as her agreement. “Great, then that’s settled. Now on to the rest.” He gave Alani a pointed look. “You spent the night with him?”

Her chin went up. “Yes.”

“What time did you get to his place?”

At the no-nonsense questioning and lack of condemnation—at least from Dare—she calmed a little. “Around dinnertime yesterday.”

“He was okay when you got there?”

“He was…” She glanced at Jackson, lifted a shoulder. “I suppose so. That is, he seemed a little off, but still—”

Trace suddenly lost it. With disbelief, he said, “Jackson, Alani? Really?”

She shouted right back, “Yes, really.”

“Without a single date? Without a damn clue? Or is that something you’ve kept from me?”

“No!” Then she flushed and cast a harassed look at Jackson. “That is…”

“He knows what it is, honey.” Not about to let her brother badger her into ending things before he even had a chance to figure out what he wanted, Jackson narrowed his eyes. “Get used to it, Trace.”

Dare held up a hand. “Do you think we could keep it civil so we can figure out what happened?”

Jackson shrugged. “Fine by me.” Never mind that he’d been slipped a mickey, that his head still pounded and his strength hadn’t completely returned. Alani was a warm, soft weight on his lap.

With every breath, he inhaled the unique perfume of her body. For the first time ever, he was able to stroke his fingers through her long blond hair, as he did right now. He could touch her skin, kiss her—and he did, lifting her delicate hand to brush his mouth over her knuckles.

She shivered, but otherwise tried to pretend the kiss meant nothing.

Trace looked apoplectic, but what the hell? Jackson couldn’t stop himself. Her brother was damn lucky he hadn’t already thrown him out so that he and Alani could get back to business.

But then again, why kick Trace out when his presence goaded Alani into showing her true feelings?

At any other time, having a woman—having anyone—act protective would insult the hell out of him. He could damn well face any problem head-on without help; he’d been doing it all his life. He didn’t need anyone shielding him.

But Alani wasn’t just any woman. She was special, so he relished this new twist. It beat the hell out of her telling him “no” any day.

Dare said to Trace, “Well?”

“Fine. But let’s get on with it.”

“Stop rushing him. He’s been through enough.”

Jackson hid his grin. When he’d first met Alani, he’d known she wasn’t the fainthearted flower her brother made her out to be. Sure, she was a delicate little thing, especially compared to his height and physicality. But she had the same strength of character, the same conviction, stubbornness and independence as Trace.

Losing their parents young had to have been rough. But Trace had overcompensated. He’d sheltered Alani more than she needed, pampered her beyond reason.

And then she’d been taken by human traffickers, and…

Jackson put his arms around her and pressed his face into her neck. He hadn’t known her then, but he couldn’t think about it without wanting to kill men who were already dead.

Mistaking his reaction for something altogether different, Alani touched his hair with a gentle hand. “Jackson, are you okay? Do you feel sick again? We can put off the inquisition until later, if you need more time.”

Trace growled in annoyance.

“He’s fine, Alani.” Dare gave Jackson a pointed look until he sat up straight again. “But he won’t be if he doesn’t start explaining soon.”

“Can’t.” Knowing more discussion would embarrass Alani further, but seeing no help for it, Jackson rolled a shoulder. “All I remember is finding Alani in my bed. I was wasted, she walked out on me, and that’s all I know. You’re going to have to grill her for the nitty-gritty.” And maybe in the bargain, he’d find out a few things, too.

Her elbow came back sharp and hard into his ribs. So much for her concern.

Trace’s face went red. Jackson knew he wanted to curse, but he tried hard to curb his language around his sister.

“Then it’s up to you, hon,” Dare said to Alani. “Did you notice anything off, anything different, when you went to his place?”

Alani licked her lips. “Actually, I did.” She cast a furtive glance at Jackson.

“He acted different? Drugged?” Trace asked. “And you still slept with him?”

She glared at her brother. “No. That is, other than seeming somehow…more sincere—”

“I was ever insincere?” Jackson asked her.

“Will you all stop interrupting?”

Dare encouraged her, saying, “Go on, Alani.”

With an effort, she gathered herself. “Jackson mostly seemed the same as always. Cocky, flirting, trying to charm the pants off every woman.”

Trace said, “I don’t need to hear this.”

“I don’t mean me.” But then she added, a little abashed, “Well, yes—me, too—I guess.”

Jackson gave her another squeeze.

“But I was talking about his neighbor.”

Everyone spoke at once, with Dare asking, “What neighbor? A woman?” and Trace saying, “You saw him flirting with her and still you stayed?”

Jackson announced, “I don’t flirt with my neighbors.”

Still on his lap, Alani raised a hand to quiet them all and then twisted to face Jackson. “I was going to tell you about this, but I wanted you to eat first.”

“He doesn’t need to be babied,” Trace grumbled.

“You be quiet!”

Her outburst left Trace bemused—and silent.

Hoping to calm her, to be a contrast to Trace’s animosity, which wasn’t winning him any points with Alani, Jackson bit back his automatic rebellion against her concern. “He’s right, honey. I keep telling you I’m fine.”

She turned back to Jackson. “You were really sick.”

“Yeah.” He pulled her closer to whisper, “Otherwise we’d still be in bed right now.”

Though he couldn’t have heard, Dare said, “Knock it off, Jackson. You’re wasting valuable time.”

Grim, Jackson said, “The only female neighbor I talk with much is Mrs. Guthrie, but she has to be sixty.”

Alani shook her head. “I assumed she was a neighbor because she was barefoot.”

The men all shared a look. If she’d been barefoot, maybe it was for the sake of stealth.

“But I didn’t watch her leave,” Alani explained, “so I don’t know where she went after she walked out your door. Maybe she wasn’t a neighbor. Maybe she was a…a date.”

Unable to think of any woman he’d have invited to his apartment, Jackson said, “Describe her.”

Alani shrugged. “I’d say in her early thirties.”

“No.”

She frowned. “Being thirty removes her from your radar?”

Not since meeting Alani had he gotten overly involved with anyone. He took care of business and ended it there. Period.

He did not invite any woman into his home.

No way in hell would he admit that to Alani, though, much less in front of Trace and Dare. “I’m just saying I’m not seeing any women in their thirties.”

“Short brown hair.”

“How short?”

Her face pinched with annoyance. “Pixie cut.”

He shook his head—and lifted a long hank of Alani’s silky fair hair to admire it. It was straighter and paler and a whole lot softer than his own. “Nope.”

Alani refused to be diverted. “Dresses like a hooker?”

“In her thirties? No.” There had been that one broad… No. That was ages ago and couldn’t even be called a one-night stand. Maybe an hour-long stand… He snorted. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“And I suppose you know every woman who lives near enough to drop in?”

“Didn’t say that.” But, like any other red-blooded male, he’d noted the more attractive ladies. “Hell, if any of my neighbors were good-looking, and if I wasn’t expending all my energy chasing you, I still wouldn’t go that route.”

Dare nodded. “Too close for comfort.”

“Exactly.”

Alani frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Complications,” Trace explained as he paced.

Suspicion narrowed her eyes. “What kind of complications?”

“The kind where, after the sex is done and the interest gone, you’re stuck with an annoyed woman in close proximity to where you live.”

Slowly, taut with judgment, Alani swiveled around with a dark frown aimed at Jackson.

He said, “Uh…” Trace wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have to spell it out to her like that.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Trace saved him by slashing his hand through the air. “Does she sound like anyone you’ve been with?”

Jackson shook his head. “Nope.”

To Alani, Trace asked, “Did you speak to her?”

“Well…yes.” With renewed annoyance, Alani glared at Jackson again. “She answered your door for you.”

Jackson’s brows shot up. “Where the hell was I?”

“On the couch.” She poked him in the chest. “You were all lounged back, comfortable, your feet up on the coffee table. I was ready to leave since you appeared otherwise involved, but then you got up when you saw it was me at the door, and the woman said she had to go anyway, and…”

“Jesus, Alani.”

“Don’t use that tone with me.” She turned her cannon on her brother again. “Did Jackson do anything you haven’t done?”

“He was with another woman!”

She started to bolt off Jackson’s lap, but when he held on to her hips, she subsided, too anxious to fight her brother to quibble over her position. “So? We didn’t have any kind of understanding—”

“We do now,” Jackson announced, just in case she’d missed that important fact.

“—and he said he was thrilled to see me.”

Whoa. On a gut level, Jackson rejected that wording. “Thrilled?” Sure, he might have been thrilled, but would he really have been that obvious?

Dare grinned, shook his head and repeated, “Thrilled,” with clear mockery.

“And that’s all it took?” Trace asked.

She strangled on a deep inhale. “Are you calling me easy?”

“No!” Now Trace looked appalled. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Jackson’s sincerity was enough for me to stay. And then…well…”

They all waited.

“Oh, forget it!” And this time she got away from Jackson. “It happened, okay? Get over it so we can concentrate on the fact that he was drugged.”

“No one is forgetting that, hon.”

She glared at Dare. “We need to know who she is.”

“And if she worked alone,” Jackson said.

“Doesn’t seem likely.” Silently fuming, Trace stepped up close to frown down at Alani. “What about your financier?”

Oh, hell. Jackson had forgotten all about Marc Tobin. Sitting forward, he stated, “That’s over.” Or at least it better be.

At the same time, Alani said, “I broke things off with him.”

Tension washed out of Jackson’s shoulders, leaving him with a certain sort of contentment. The persistent throbbing in his temples faded.

Trace looked from Alani to Jackson and back again. “Since when?”

“A little more than a week ago.”

A whole week? And she hadn’t come to him right away? Damn, had she been grieving over the breakup?

“Did you give him a reason?” Dare wanted to know.

“None of your business.”

Trace brought her chin back around. “Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe you don’t know how this works, but under the circumstances, we need to hear everything. It’s the only way we can really analyze the potential danger.”

“You actually think Marc could be involved?”

“He’d have reason to be furious with Jackson—or with you.”

Surprise held her silent for a heartbeat before she scoffed. “You think I’m in danger? That’s absurd. Jackson is the one who was drugged.”

Unable to hide his smirk, Trace said, “Getting all the facts is the only way we can protect Jackson, too.”

Oh, now, that burned his ass. “I don’t need—”

Before Jackson could finish protesting, Alani faltered. “But…Marc wouldn’t have had anything to do with—”

“Jackson getting doped? Probably not, so don’t get alarmed. But I want you to tell me everything anyway.”

Jackson noticed so many things—the way her lips trembled, the new tautness in her shoulders, her pallor and shallow breaths.

“Trace,” he said low. “Back off, will you?” Sure, she needed to be sheltered, but scaring her wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Trace narrowed his eyes and cupped Alani’s shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, honey. This is just a precaution.”

She swallowed hard and averted her gaze from one and all. “I told him I was thinking of seeing…someone else.”

Dare put his elbows on his knees. “You mentioned Jackson to him?”

“No, of course not.” She shook her head. “That would have been needlessly rude.”

Since Alani was the epitome of graciousness, Trace accepted that explanation. “Did anyone know you were coming to see Jackson yesterday?”

“Jackson knew.”

Doing a double take, Jackson asked, “I did?”

“I called you.” Her sad smile came and went. “But I suppose you’ve forgotten that, too. I called you before leaving work.”

“Anyone overhear that call?” Dare asked.

“I was in my office, so I doubt it.” And then, head high and shoulders back, she turned to leave the room. “I’m going to put on coffee.”

“Alani…” Knowing the idea of danger had shaken her, Jackson started to stand.

“No.” She stopped him by raising an imperious hand. She pointed a finger at the food she’d brought him and gave a succinct order. “Eat.”

No one gave him orders.

Jackson considered her. She’d left her rich boyfriend in the dust. She’d freely defended him to her brother.

She’d slept with him, whether he remembered it or not.

Overall, he was pretty damn happy with her, so he gave her a salute. “Yes, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

CHAPTER THREE

IN THE KITCHEN, Alani turned on the radio. Loud.

Accommodating them? Or tuning them out?

Didn’t matter. Jackson sat forward. “Let me blow this up your skirt— I’ve met the bastard.”

Dare raised a brow. “Her boyfriend?”

“Her ex-boyfriend. And yeah. He knows me, knows my face and first name.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

Jackson flagged a hand. “I was chasing her, nothing new in that.”

Trace snarled. “And you met him?”

“Yeah. Unless he’s dumber than I think, he felt the chemistry between Alani and me.” Jackson challenged Trace. “It’s there and you know it.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Trace turned to Dare. “Jackson’s been dogging her heels for a while now.”

Dare looked between them. “You knew about this?”

“Yeah.” Letting out a breath, Trace rubbed the back of his neck. “I knew.”

“Wasn’t a secret,” Jackson said. “I told him. But shit’s different now.”

Deadpan, Dare asked, “You think so?”

Everyone kept their voices low.

“Hell, I was just hoping to get her to redo my place for me so I could get closer to her.” Jackson ignored Dare’s raised brows and Trace’s annoyance. “But that didn’t work out, and I figured I was back to square one, and now—”

Trace cut him off. “Jackson was keeping tabs on her, too.”

That sounded bad, so Jackson explained. “With what she’s been through, I didn’t want the financier to do anything to make her uncomfortable.”

“Like chase her?” Dare asked.

The taunt put Jackson on edge. “Like pressuring her. And you can bet he did.” Could the financier have pressured her more than Jackson had just minutes ago? Shit.

“Why do you assume so?” Dare asked.

“Look at her!” This time Jackson thrust his hand toward the kitchen where, hopefully, Alani couldn’t hear them. “She’s so smokin’ hot, most guys wouldn’t be able to help themselves.”

Dare choked. “She’s the smaller, more female version of Trace.”

What an appalling thought. “Not even close,” Jackson denied. “You see her like a kid sister, same as Trace does.” Sure, they had the same coloring of pale hair and bright hazel eyes. That combo might be noticeable on Trace, but on Alani it was outright striking, fascinating every guy who met her. “I see her differently.”