Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll (9 page)

Rachel paused for a brief moment, partly to
curb her panic as the plane left the ground, but mostly to consider
her response. “Ten years.”

“You’ve been in Diablo that long?”

She shook her head. “No. I moved here from
New York.”

“Must’ve been quite a change,” he said. “Why
did you leave New York?”

Suddenly his questions hit a little too close
for comfort. “Change of scenery. What about you? Why Diablo?”

“You.”

The plane gave a slight bounce. “Me?” she
squeaked.

Hawke nodded. “The first time I laid eyes on
you, I knew Diablo was the place for me.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Sounds like there’s
a song in there somewhere.”

Hawke grinned and her stomach flip-flopped.
“Diablo seems like a nice place. I like the location, away from the
spotlight, yet close enough if I need a fix.”

Rachel gave a slow nod. Away from the
spotlight. She so understood. The only difference – she wouldn’t
need a fix. “What do you usually do during these flights?”

Hawke gestured with his head behind them.
“There’s a king size bed in the back.”

Rachel’s pulse jumped. Once again, she failed
to think before she spoke. Yet, heat flooded her thighs and she
wondered just how firm the mattress was on that bed. In the back of
the plane. Away from everyone else. She lowered her gaze to her
hands just in case he could read something in her eyes.

Her skin tingled when he lifted her chin with
one finger and caressed her eyes with his own. “I sleep,
Rachel.”

She sat hypnotized by his admission, not sure
how to respond.

“Would you like to see it?”

“I’m not sure there’s time,” she whispered
before she could stop herself.

Hawke’s brow furrowed for a split second and
then his eyebrows rose with realization. Her cheeks warmed when his
lip curled in a smirk. “I only meant I think you’ll appreciate the
design.”

Rachel fought the urge to bang her head
against the seat as Hawke unsnapped her seatbelt. Deciding silence
would be the best option, she stood from her seat and followed him
to the rear of the plane.

Hawke opened a door and waved her inside.
“Well?”

Rachel took a moment to glance around the
room. The cabinets and closet were ornately carved from oak and the
carpet actually massaged each footstep but it was the king sized
bed in the center that drew her attention. Although the headboard,
footboard, and all four posts were equally beautifully carved from
oak and the top was adorned in a black and white checkered
comforter, it was the shiny black sheet peeking from beneath the
blanket that stroked her curiosity. Most likely silk. The kind that
would feel cool and crisp against a heated body and wrinkle easily
with movement.

“Rachel?”

“Hmm?” Her gaze scanned the length of the bed
and back again.

“Do you like it?”

Rachel shook herself free from thoughts of
tangled bodies and wrinkled sheets. “Oh, yes, it’s beautiful,
Hawke.”

She traced her fingers over the ridges in the
closest bed post. “I’m fairly sure this is hand-carved.”

Hawke braced one hip against the armoire.
“You really know your stuff.”

Rachel gave a weak smile. He wouldn’t be
quite so impressed if he knew that fine craftsmanship wasn’t
exactly what she’d been thinking about up to this point.

The door squeaked and Max poked his head
around. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re ready to land.”

Rachel tilted her head to one side. “How did
you know we were back here, Max?”

Max nodded at Hawke. “You want to take this
one, Hawke?”

Rachel felt the blood drain from her face and
resisted the urge to smack her hand against her forehead.

Hawke took her elbow and guided her back into
the cabin. “He just assumed, Rachel. Not too many places to go on
an airplane.”

Rachel heard Max’s muffled laughter as he
headed back to the cockpit.

Within the next hour, Max pulled the rented
Suburban to the curb and then turned to Hawke. “Francine knows
you’re coming this time, right?”

Hawke nodded.

Rachel’s brow wrinkled. Francine? A
publicist? She glanced out the smoked windows. Right outside the
car, a three-story Brownstone stood proud in the middle of what
appeared to be an exclusive housing addition. A well-manicured,
landscaped lawn surrounded the house, complete with a white picket
fence around the entire area. Where were the cameras? The screaming
women? And what kind of public appearance could he possibly make
here? Before she could question him, Hawke slid out of his seat and
Max pushed the door closed. Her door opened a few seconds later and
Hawke extended a hand. Still puzzled, she accepted and left the
car.

After they climbed a set of fairly steep
steps, Hawke opened the large wooden door and nudged her inside.
Within milliseconds, the silence was broken. Only, not by adoring
female fans. Instead, a blood-curdling scream pierced her
eardrums.

***

Steele watched his target swing her silver
Lexus SC 430 into an empty parking space in front of the coffee
shop then fling open the car door and step out, chattering like a
magpie into her cell phone the whole time. He pried his fingers
from the steering wheel and flexed his knuckles. Who the hell gave
this woman a driver’s license?

His pulse pounded as her heels pierced the
sidewalk. Steele swallowed hard. Damn, she worked those shoes like
a true professional.

He waited to leave his truck until she
entered the sidewalk café. Once inside, he wanted to throttle
Captain Sterling. The place was jam packed with serious early
morning coffee drinkers. Tall ones. She was tiny. His skills would
be sorely tested.

He eased into a corner in the back of the
room and attempted to blend, keeping a careful eye trained on his
mark. She stepped to the counter, tossed her curls over her
shoulder, and more or less seduced the guy behind the counter when
she batted those long eyelashes and gave him a sexy smile. Within
seconds, she had a cup in her hand, topped with a mountain of
whipped cream. Steele watched in awe as her tiny pink tongue darted
from her mouth to pull the creamy substance inside. He exhaled
hard.
Someone please give her a spoon.

He took half a second to check his location
and pull himself together.

He glanced back at the counter.

She was gone.

Blood pounded in his temples. Adrenaline
raced through his veins. He took a quick analysis of the perimeter.
He knew for a fact she hadn’t left the premises; she would’ve had
to walk passed him to do it. Besides, the crowd was elbow to elbow,
an exit that quick would’ve required her to crawl. No man in his
right mind would’ve missed her delectable little ass on all
fours.

The windows were in the front and the only
way out one of them was through them.

Steele pushed himself off the wall and headed
toward an opening in the back of the room. The head, of course.
Momentary relief seeped through him until he stepped out of the
noise and into a secluded hallway.

“Hello, handsome.”

He managed to keep from pummeling her by
balling his fists.

“Looking for me?” Her very intimidating
man-eating smile told him he’d found trouble. With a bold, capital
T.

“What makes you think that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’ll play your
way. I’ve had you in my rearview mirror since you pulled away from
the stoplight at Second and Elm an hour ago. I’m actually impressed
you managed to keep up.”

Steele forced himself not to blast her for
almost killing both of them several times during the last hour.
Instead, he crossed his fingers and lied through his teeth.

“Busted.” He gave her what he knew to be his
best ladykiller smile. Maybe it would knock hers for a loop. “That
was my half-assed attempt to meet you.”

She narrowed those deep blue, Siamese
cat-like eyes. “Really. So, I’m supposed to believe this is a
feeble attempt to pick me up?”

He gave a half laugh. “Believe it or not,
yes.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Brett.”

She stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you,
Brett. I’m Cameron.”

“I know.”

“How?”

He tapped the cup she held. “It’s written in
red.”

She gave him another smile, one just as sly
as the first. “Well, I’m so sorry, Brett, but I happen to be
involved.”

He raised an eyebrow. Pretty smart chick.
“Maybe he should think twice about leaving you alone.”

“He doesn’t mind. I carry pepper spray in my
purse. Besides, he’s a bodyguard and as big and bad as the
Terminator, with an attitude to match.”

“Too bad. In that case I won’t waste any more
of your time.”

“See ya,” she sang.

Steele focused on nothing other than walking
a straight path out the door and didn’t allow himself to
concentrate on anything else until he was seated behind the tinted
windows of his truck. Irritated and hard as a rock.
I am so
screwed
.

He punched Shadow’s number into his cell
phone. “You almost done?”

“Leaving now. Where are you?”

“Outside Lombardo’s Cuppa Joe.”

“You don’t drink that stuff.”

“She does.”

“Then why are you outside?”

“I think we’re in big trouble?”

“We? Explain.”

“I’ve been made.”

“Hell, Steele! How?”

“I have no idea. One minute I was watching
her and the next she had me cornered.”

“This is classic. Guess you know what happens
next.”

“Nothing.”

“When Sterling and Hawke hear about
this—”

“They won’t.”

Shadow gave a hearty laugh. “Oh, hell no. I
can’t keep this to myself.”

“You will or I’ll tell them about your new
hobby.”

“Damn, Steele. You wouldn’t even know if
Claire hadn’t told you.”

For once in his life Steele truly appreciated
his mischievous twin sister. “Doesn’t matter. You keep my secret,
I’ll keep yours.”

“Agreed.”

“I managed to convince her I was trying to
pick her up.”

“She buy it?”

“I think so. But, get this. She said she’s
involved with someone and I would swear on my left nut she
described Sterling.”

“This gets better and better.”

“Did you get the tube?”

“Yeah. The decoy is on its way back to
Diego.”

“I’ll meet you back at the hotel. You just
remember what we agreed.”

“Affirmative.”

“Die, fool!”

Rachel glanced at Hawke, sure someone should
call the police. Hawke just shook his head and led her down a
hallway to a large room. Inside, perched in front of a big screen
television, were two dark-haired boys, both attacking video game
controllers like they truly tried to kill them. Rachel released the
breath she’d taken a good few seconds ago.

Hawke rushed into the room and sprawled out
on the floor. “Batman Arkham Asylum! Sweet!”

Both boys dropped their controllers and
tackled Hawke.

“Hawke, man, you didn’t tell us you were
coming.” The larger of the two boys gave Hawke’s right biceps a
punch.

“I told Francie,” Hawke mumbled from beneath
the pile.

The smaller boy scrubbed his knuckles across
the top of Hawke’s head. “She didn’t tell us.”

Still in shock at the turn of events, Rachel
glanced at Max. He shrugged and walked to the heap of bodies
squirming on the floor.

“Cool it, killers.” Max scooped the boys off
Hawke and tucked each one under a bronzed bicep. “Did you notice
Hawke brought a
girl
this time?”

The room fell silent and four curious eyes
hit her head-on. With shock still buzzing her brain, Rachel
smiled.

Hawke stood and positioned himself beside
her. “Guys, this is Ms. Newberry.”

Max set each boy on the floor and then nudged
the tallest, who stepped forward and offered his hand. “Nice to
meet you ma’am. I am Antonio.”

Rachel gave his hand a squeeze. “Nice to meet
you too, Antonio. Please call me Rachel.”

The smaller boy, a carbon copy of the first,
thrust his hand at Rachel. “I’m Romeo.” He turned to Hawke. “Ella
es un bebe’ caliente!”

Rachel raised both eyebrows.
One hot
babe?

Hawke smirked. “She speaks Spanish,
Romeo.”

A wave of red climbed Romeo’s face and tinted
the tips of his ears.

“Thank you, Romeo,” Rachel said softly, “I’m
flattered you find me attractive.” She leaned down closer to his
height. “You’re no tan mal ousted mismo.”

A big cheesy grin lit Romeo’s face and he
glanced back at Hawke. “Take that, Hawke, she says I’m not bad
myself.”

Hawke chuckled. “Stay away from my woman.” He
gave Romeo a playful punch to his left shoulder. “Can you guys
entertain Max? Rachel and I need to talk to Francie.”

A mischievous smile crossed Antonio’s face as
he glanced at Max. “We got Call of Duty yesterday. You in?”

Max accepted his offer with a tone of
challenge. “That’s a definite affirmative, soldier.”

Hawke took Rachel’s hand and led her from the
recreation room and down yet another hallway. Her brain was still
numb from shock. Where were the cameras? The reporters?

“Hawke.” She tugged him to a stop. “What
exactly are we doing here?”

“Checking on my kids.”

Rachel opened her mouth and then snapped it
closed. Of course he’d fathered children.

Hawke resumed their path down the hall until
they met a young, extremely attractive brunette walking toward
them, a laundry basket balanced on one hip. The second she saw
Hawke, the basket hit the floor and she lunged herself into his
arms.

Rachel stood silent. Not one muscle dared
move. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears and her blood threatened to
scald her insides. Hawke brought her to meet the mother of his
children?