Big Girls Don't Cry (8 page)

Steadying herself, her hands on the back of the nearest chair, she glared at him.

Given the turmoil roiling in her gut she was grateful her voice was as calm as it was.

“That’s where you are wrong, Agent Gardner. You may command battalions and lead men in and out of dangerous life threatening situations. But you are not in charge of me or responsible for me in any way. I am responsible for myself.”

She tossed her head with a dismissive sneer, ignoring the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“So pack up that southern charm, Special Agent. Save it for someone who will appreciate it. Find another helpless woman to save, because that woman isn’t me.”

She was now several feet away from him and only inches from the doorway.

“Oh, and a little advice. When you take your next powerless woman out to dinner, tell her what you are really after. Most women, even pitiful ones, don’t like being lied to. Now, if you’ll excuse me. Don’t bother getting up. I’ll see myself out. And I won’t need a ride. I’m taking a cab.” She turned to go then reached in her purse and threw two twenty dollar bills on the table. “For my dinner.”

Threading her way through the main dining room, Lexie was shaking so hard she bumped into several tables. She grimaced. People probably thought she was drunk. She was. With rage.

When she got to the entrance, she said to the teenage boy who had taken Jake’s bike, “Will you please call me a cab or tell me where the nearest cab stand is?”

A gruff voice behind her said. “Don’t bother, Pedro. I’ll see Miss Beloi home.” Taking the keys the flabbergasted boy handed him, Jake added, “Please say good night to your mother and father. Tell them I’ll be back soon.”

He took hold of her arm and strode across the parking lot to the motorcycle planted within sight distance of the valet stand. It took Lexie three steps to keep up with one of his.

“Tell you what, sugar,” his drawl was noticeably hard, without a trace of teasing humor. “We have a saying where I come from. You dance with the one who brung you.”

Lexie rolled her eyes and shot him a defiant glance. Crossing her arms tightly in front of her chest, she scoffed, “Oh, great, more of Grandma Winnie Mae’s words of wisdom? In case you didn’t notice, we weren’t dancing.”

He smiled a tight hard smile. “Nope, that was Uncle Bobby Jo’s warning to me when I was thirteen years old and thought I knew everything about the world of women and he knew nothing.” He straightened up and moved toward her. “But darlin’, if it applies to dance partners, it sure as hell applies to the guy who took you out to dinner and is about to take you home.”

Lexie stiffened and looked over her shoulder, judging the distance to the door of the Cantina. Surely, he wouldn’t chase her if she ran. But before she could decide her chances, he flipped up the lid to the storage compartment and yanked out a black leather jacket.

He thrust it at her. “Here, put this on.”

“I told you, I am not riding…on…”

The rest of her words stuck in her throat. Within what seemed like seconds, he deposited her on the back seat of the bike dressed in his jacket. He snapped on her helmet and pulled the strap tight.

Swinging his leg over the fender in one motion, he strapped on his helmet. He twisted around and smiled a grim smile when he saw where she was sitting.

She’d scooted back as far as she could and clenched her fists around the leather handles on the seat.

He actually grinned, infuriating her further, then dug around in the pouch on the side fender.

She shrieked when she saw the handcuffs. She fought him as hard as she could, but within seconds he’d clamped one cuff on her wrist then jerked her up against his back. He pulled both of her hands tight across his belly and snapped the other cuff in place.

“Damn you, Jake. What the hell do you think you are doing? Let me go, dammit!”

He chuckled. “What are you going to do, sugar? Call the cops? Oh, that’s right, you don’t believe in working with police officers.”

He revved up the bike, ignoring her impotent struggles to free herself. Instead, he yanked her up tighter to his back until she was plastered against him.

“Goddammit, Jake. Let me go. This is dangerous. What if we fall? I …I could get crushed.”

He snorted, “You, Lexie? The invincible one? The woman impervious to danger? To threats? Hang on, sugar, I’ll be getting you home just as quickly as I can.”

Lexie tried to pull back, but it was useless. The cuffs had no give. Struggling against her frustration, she let her manacled hands rest against his belly. Shocked at the corded layer of muscles beneath her fingers, she fought the urge to stroke them. It was his smell that drew her in. His spicy cologne and musky male smell broke through her resistance. Giving in to his powerful magnetic pull, she clung to him and buried her face against his strong back. Her anger got lost in the roar of the bike and she found herself clinging to him more tightly than was necessary.

When they rolled up in front of her motel, he unlocked the cuffs and stuffed them in the pouch. He swung his leg over the bike and picked her up and stood her on the ground. Without a word, he headed toward the stairs. The dark shadows around the motel made her shiver. She hurried after him, but he was at the top of the stairs before she cleared the second landing. He waited beside her door, his face unreadable in the dark, cold anger rolling off him in waves.

He held out his hand for the key. Lexie fumbled in her purse. She finally found it and handed it to him. He reached down in his boot and pulled out his Sig. He motioned her back against the railing then opened the door and went inside, flipping on the overhead light. She heard the click of the gun hammer and the bathroom door open and then the closet door. He came outside and tucked the gun at his back.

He walked by her without speaking, heading down the stairs. He stood for a moment on the landing, then came back up the stairs two at a time. Her heart skipped a beat when he strode toward her. He stood in front of her, studying her upturned face. After a long moment, he put his hands on the railing on either side of her, locking her in place. She could feel his vibrating tension. He pressed his hard body against hers. She swallowed, almost choking on her breath. He smelled strong, powerful. She shuddered, stunned at the sensations roiling her core. He leaned down, his lips next to her ear. His beard stubble rasped against her cheek.

His voice was husky, low. “Just to keep the record straight, Lexie. I asked you to have dinner with me tonight because I wanted to be with you. Get to know you. I wanted to show you my bike. I also wanted to feel your arms around me.” He gave a soft snort. “I didn’t think it would take handcuffs to do it.”

Even in the dark, she could see the hurt in his eyes and hear the strain in his voice. Before she could respond he was at the second landing. He looked up at her and said. “Lock the door. Put on the chain. You’re not safe here.”

She waited at the top of the stairs until she heard the roar of the motorcycle. Reluctantly, she walked into the shabby room. The bare bulb on the ceiling lit the room with an ugly glare. She locked the door and stood against the doorway trying to absorb what had happened, trying to sort out the frenzied emotions searing her.

Glancing around the room, her eyes rested on the desk. She’d sorted the reports the chief gave her in four piles, organizing them according to subject. Now they were in a single neat stack. She closed her eyes, shuddering, resisting the reality. Someone had been in her room. And it sure as hell wasn’t room service, she thought with a grimace.

She felt in her purse for Jake’s card. Even as she searched for it, she knew she couldn’t call him. She’d seen his anger, felt his disappointment. No, she was in this alone. Just as she’d said she wanted to be. Taking a deep breath, she worked the heavy dresser from side to side until it rested against the flimsy door. Self consciously, looking in the shadows, as though someone might jump out, she undressed. Slipping on an exercise bra and skimpy workout shorts, she went out on the balcony to begin her practice. She was unwilling to stay in the depressing room a minute longer.

After a long intense practice that did nothing to quiet her jangling nerves and chaotic emotions, she peered through the dirty glass on the sliding door. Looking at the empty room with its spooky shadows, the balcony seemed a safer place to sleep than the bedroom. She knew she was being foolish, but she could feel the intruder. She felt violated, compromised. She’d have to find a new place in the morning. She couldn’t stay here another night. Wrapped in the cleanest blanket she could find, she snuggled against the plaster wall on the balcony. She hugged the Glock that Anthony gave her next to her chest. She comforted herself with the thought that if nothing else, she‘d have the advantage of hearing anyone who tried to get by the dresser wedged against the door.

She closed her eyes, knowing how unlikely sleep was. She finally drifted off, caught in the dream of flying through the starlit night holding onto Jake’s strong back. In her dream, he held her tight, protecting her from the wind. She was warm, safe.

Chapter 8

The big man hiding in the shadows below watched her fierce movements. It wasn’t quite as good as the peep shows at the
Senora Traviesa
. She was wearing too many clothes, he thought with a lascivious grunt. But hell, what a body. She was doing some kind of martial arts. The more he watched, the more entranced he became. Every kick and strike showed off her long legs and tight ass. He’d never thought that he’d get turned on by a fighter, but just the thought of her writhing over him perked up his dormant prick. He grimaced thinking how much better it would be if Blondie got it on with Bella. Yeah, now that was a fight he’d like to see. He liked to watch.

Safely hidden in the tangle of the overgrown bougainvillea and oleanders he laughed at the undercover guy lounging by the empty swimming pool. Like everything else in this dump, the pool was filthy, filled with years of dirt, weeds, and trash that had blown its way. The undercover guy looked like he belonged. His shaggy hair, and unkempt clothes, the familiar tattered garb of the homeless men who skulked in the shadows, made him blend in. He couldn’t remember his name, but he knew he’d seen the sneaky fucker around, at the station.

Furious anger washed over him at the thought of the mighty Jake Gardner coming in to solve the big case. He snarled thinking about the tall, blue-eyed soldier who rode in on his Electra Glide like he ruled the world. His blood boiled at the way Jake had plopped that gorgeous girl on the back like she belonged to him. The big guys, the important ones, the ones everyone noticed and admired, didn’t see men like him, even when they saw him every day. He was part of the background. Invisible. Not worth a second thought. Even when the invisible ones reared up and threatened the big guys’ worlds, the assholes ignored them. They never thought that the indistinguishable ones could screw them over. How could they? Why would they? He growled. Oh, yeah, they recognized the threat and they were out to get to the source. But they’d never catch him. They didn’t know he existed. They never dreamed who it was in the shadows, taking them down one by one.

Remembering how easily he’d entered Blondie’s room, he guffawed. Christ, he’d waltzed in, practically in broad daylight, opened the lousy lock with a fucking credit card. He got a picture of every page of the report the chief gave her. Hell, he was in and out in five minutes. But not before he left a few telltale signs. He didn’t care what the boss said. He wanted her to know he was there. Freak her out. But he was careful, fastidious. He better be. He felt a shiver of fear. The boss was angry with him. Called him a fuck-up. Threatened him. Yeah, he had gone a little overboard, but hell, that fucking cop deserved it. Somehow, some way, the fucker had seen through the shadows. Seen him and knew who he was.

The girl would be easy. Just like the cop, she thought she was tough. But it wouldn’t take much to get hold of her. She was careless. He peered up through the bushes at the balcony. She was gone. The peep show was over. He buttoned his suit coat over his portly gut and backed out of the shadows. In minutes, he was one more anonymous, invisible man blending with all the others on the street.

~~~

“No, quiet as hell. A couple of things that don’t look good, but as of now, everything is quiet.” He whistled softly. “Hey, buddy, you might want to tell your girlfriend not to do those sexy exercises of hers on the balcony. Every time that broken motel sign out front decides to work, it lights her up like a fuckin spotlight.”

He grinned at the string of expletives Jake muttered.

“Damn! Those are the longest, most beautiful legs I’ve ever seen. And fuckin Christ, those shorts. What do they call ‘em? Boy shorts? Damn, no boy I ever saw looked like she does in shorts. Mmm hm!”

“Yeah, sorry, Jake. I know you’re worried. I’m thinking you got a reason to be. A couple of weird things we gotta be concerned about. I got here about seven thirty or so. I talked up some kids boarding on a make shift ramp out in the back. Said they’d been here a couple of hours. I gave them some money, told ‘em I needed someone to keep a watch out for me. Hell, Jake, all they could talk about was that bike of yours and that gorgeous woman climbing on the back.”