Renegade Millionaire (3 page)

He watched her the same way he had at the gala before she'd made her escape. The man must have excessive pheromones, she decided. Right now they were working on her in some not too unpleasant ways. Head to toe chills traveled downward and heat settled low in her belly. It would be all too easy to agree to spend more time with him. And all too risky.

“I could walk you to your car,” he said through another rogue smile.

Truth was, her car sat in her apartment lot after she'd scraped together enough money to have it towed. She didn't have enough funds to have it fixed, though, and the darn thing still refused to run. She wished she could say the same for her sprinting pulse. “Actually, I'm into mass transit these days. I'm taking the bus home.”

“I could give you a ride.”

She had no doubt about that. “I'll manage fine.”

“Okay, if you're sure. Guess I'll just have my coffee alone.”

She forced herself to turn away from him. Away from all the electricity the man emitted like a live wire. She picked up her pace before she changed her mind and went back to him, probably at her own peril.

“Have a nice night, Cinderella.”

Joanna stopped dead in her tracks.

Slowly she turned only to find an empty space where he had been. Vanished, like some unearthly presence, into a netherworld.

Joanna laid a hand across her pounding heart and took in several deep breaths. One realization haunted her like a ghost.

He
had
recognized her.

R
io sat once more in the hospital cafeteria, this time with only a cup of black coffee. He didn't dare waste another meal in case he was summoned back to the emergency room or to the labor and delivery floor. It was now nearing 8:00 p.m., and he still had three hours left to take calls before a resident relieved him. Regardless, he was determined to get out of there, even if it meant coming back in.

He should be tired, dead on his feet, but he wasn't, and he had Joanna Blake to thank for that. He'd almost gone after her, waited outside the dressing room and tried again to convince her to join him.

He wasn't sure why he hadn't. Normally, he didn't give up easily where women were concerned, but this woman was different. She sure as hell wasn't his type, surprisingly innocent—except for that mouth of hers. A
great mouth, even when she chose to use it as a weapon on him, in every respect. She was also a mom.

Withdrawing the picture from his scrub shirt pocket, Rio studied the young boy he presumed to be Joanna Blake's son. He could be wrong, but he doubted it. The kid had the same eyes, the same dark hair, the same smile. He flipped it over again, as he'd done several times over the past few days.

Joseph Adam, age 3. My heart.
Definitely something a mother would write.

Rio had seen the picture fly onto the floor New Year's Eve when Joanna had dropped her bag on the run. But before he could shove his way through the crowd and retrieve the photo in order to return it to her, she had already flown away like a dove finally emancipated from a cage.

He should've given it back to her tonight, but he hadn't. Maybe he viewed it as some connection to her. Maybe he would use it as an excuse to see her again. Maybe even tonight.

Why not? He wasn't one to avoid risks outside his medical practice. Besides, he wanted to know more about her. Wanted to know, if he kissed her again, would he still have the same gut-level reaction? Would it go beyond a kiss? Only one way to find out.

Rio decided it would take her several minutes to dress, make a call, then another fifteen or so to check on Mrs. Gonzales. Only fifteen minutes had passed since he'd left her in the hall. If he hurried and changed into his street clothes, he might catch up to her at the bus stop.

On that thought, he shoved his chair back and went in search of a woman who might not want to be found. Not that he'd let that stop him.

 

“Nice night, huh?”

Joanna glanced at the man who'd seated himself on the bus-stop bench where she now waited. She'd been so lost in her thoughts—thoughts of Rio Madrid—she hadn't even noticed his presence until that moment. He was big and beefy, his round ruddy face covered by a full reddish beard. He wore only a faded denim vest—ridiculous considering the cold—his ham-size arms sporting tattoos that ran together in a webwork of blue, covering almost every inch of his skin.

A scruffy scarecrow of a guy wearing a dirty cap and threadbare flannel shirt, his lecherous grin exposing a sparse display of yellowed teeth, stood at the opposing end of the bench. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes carried on the faint January breeze, causing Joanna's empty stomach to pitch.

The big man nodded toward his partner. “Mind if my friend has a seat?”

Before Joanna could issue a protest, the second man took his place on the other side of her. Wonderful. Flanked by offensive lowlifes.

Focusing straight ahead at the street, she became more than a little wary when in her peripheral vision she noted both of them staring.

“You want a smoke, missy?” the skinny guy said, his voice rough as unfinished pine.

She hugged her arms closer to her middle and shot him a look of disdain. “No, thanks.”

The big guy released a grating chuckle. “Maybe you want to go down the street and have a beer with us. Take a walk on the wild side.”

Not with these animals.
“I don't drink.”

The ogre inched closer, his massive thigh brushing
hers. “Aw, come on now. Everyone needs a drink now and then.”

Considering his breath, he'd probably had plenty. She shuddered. “Not me.”

He tipped his head close to her shoulder. “You sure are sweet.”

Joanna bolted from the bench and faced them, trying hard to hide her fear behind a toughness she didn't feel. “Don't trust appearances, mister. I can be downright mean when I have to be.”

The ape snorted. “I bet you can be bad, too.” The skinny one let go a round of wheezing chuckles.

Joanna slipped her hand inside her bag, then remembered she hadn't replaced her pepper spray since she'd changed purses the other night. Turning toward the street only enough to keep the pair in her sights, she silently cursed her stupidity for not getting out of there at the first sign of trouble. Where was the darned bus?

Joanna sensed movement, then felt the heavy weight of a huge arm draped around her neck, a hand rubbing her shoulder. Frozen by fear, she stiffened her frame and tried to plan what she should do next. Kick him in the groin and run back to the hospital? The parking lot stood between her and the main building. A big parking lot filled with only a few cars and probably fewer people.

No, she wouldn't run. She wouldn't let them see her fear.

With a sigh, she yanked the man's arm from her shoulder and stepped to one side. “Look, I'm not interested in a beer, or a good time. I'm heading home to my husband who happens to be a cop. So if I were you, I'd keep my hands to myself before I drew back a nub.”

“I'd do what the lady says, because if she doesn't take care of you, I will.”

Joanna looked from her harassers to Rio Madrid, standing behind the bench, his hands hidden away in the pockets of a black leather jacket, his eyes dark and intense. He looked predatory, ready to pounce.

He came around the bench and put himself between Joanna and the strangers. “Move on,
amigos.
Find yourself some other woman.”

The ragtag pair faced him. The big one was several inches taller than the doctor and looked just as threatening. “Maybe we don't want another woman.”

Rio wrapped one arm around Joanna in a protective embrace. She heard a click and realized someone had produced a knife or a switchblade. Her throat constricted, her body stiffened. Then she realized it was the doctor who had the weapon when the giant glanced at Rio's hand that Joanna couldn't see.

The man backed off, looking paranoid. “Okay. Take her. She ain't that great, anyway.” He turned away, his partner close on his heels muttering, “Crazy cop.”

Rio braced his hands on Joanna's shoulders and turned her to face him. “Are you okay?” he asked with concern.

“I was handling them just fine.”

“Looks to me like he was doing all the handling.”

“I'm sure he's harmless. He certainly couldn't get away fast enough from you. Then again, maybe it was the knife.”

Rio dropped his hands and produced the weapon in question from his jacket, snapping open the lengthy blade with a click. “I've had it since I was thirteen. It's dull as dirt, but it looks like it could do some damage.” He retracted the blade and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Obviously it was convincing enough,” she said.

“Either that, or he thinks I'm your husband working undercover. He probably has some pot stashed somewhere. So is it true?”

Joanna couldn't help but smile, mainly from relief. “He didn't offer me any pot, just a walk on the wild side.”

Rio's smile came halfway, but was no less effective than a complete one. “I meant the thing about your husband being a cop.”

“I'm divorced, and no, he wasn't a cop.” He wasn't much of anything. “Chances are my ex would've tried to pay those creeps to leave me alone, unless he decided to let them have me.” Joanna clamped her mouth shut. She couldn't believe she'd said such a thing. Never had she talked so openly about Adam to anyone. She wasn't inclined to let her bitterness show.

The doctor streaked a hand over his scalp. “Sounds like good riddance on all counts.”

She couldn't agree more. She also didn't understand Rio Madrid's sudden appearance, even though she certainly appreciated it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came looking for you, and I'm glad I did.”

So was Joanna, but she wouldn't make that admission. “Is something wrong with Mrs. Gonzales?”

“No, she's doing great.”

“Then what can I do for you?”

“I thought I'd try to convince you to have that cup of coffee.” He studied her for a long moment. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“I'm fine. Really.”

“You're shaking.”

“I'm cold.” She was also lying.

Stripping out of his jacket, he put it around her shoulders. It smelled like leather and the spicy scent that had
washed over her sparked her fantasies, that one memorable night in his arms.

“Better?” he asked.

She was somewhat warmer, but not as warm as she'd been when he'd held her close to his side. “Much, but now you're going to be cold.”

He rubbed a hand across his chest, covered only by a thin black T-shirt. “Don't worry about me. I'm hot most of the time.”

Joanna had no answer for that, at least not a verbal one. Right now she was heating up fast in response.

“I take it you don't own a car,” he said.

“I do, but it's at home, broken down.” A perfect match for her apartment.

“Then I'll take you home.”

At that moment, the bus pulled up to the curb, all squealing brakes and spewing fumes. “That's not necessary. My ride's here.”

Rio nodded toward the two thugs now boarding the vehicle. “You really want to do that?”

She looked at the bus, then back at him, unsure of which road to take. “Well, actually…”

He raised his hands, palms forward. “I promise I'll keep my hands on the steering wheel. You'll be safe with me.”

Joanna didn't feel at all safe with him, not that he presented a physical threat, or at least the kind that the seedy jerks had posed. But there was something very dangerous about Rio Madrid, the kind of danger that a woman could easily take pleasure in. The kind Joanna would be smart to avoid.

She also didn't like the thought of him seeing where she lived, a crime-ridden neighborhood on the far side of town. But more so, Joanna hated the prospect of get
ting on the bus with two questionable characters, so she found herself saying, “Yes, if it's not too much trouble.”

This time Rio's grin came full force, a sensual explosion. “No trouble at all.”

If only Joanna could believe that she wasn't borrowing more trouble with Dr. Rio Madrid.

 

Rio took the narrow streets slowly, surprised by the place Joanna Blake called home. Not that he hadn't seen its kind before. Every town had one, an area full of lost souls caught in the throes of poverty. Not only had he seen it, he'd lived it until he'd turned fifteen. By that time good fortune had played a part in his future and he'd moved up in the world—a world he'd never quite fit into.

He passed the rows of rickety apartments and small clapboard houses, noting a lot of activity on the streets, and none that looked within the law. Probably a lot of drug deals going down, gunrunning, all kinds of dangerous happenings—things the woman beside him should never have to be exposed to.

He sent a quick glance in Joanna's direction. “Do you live alone?”

She continued to stare straight ahead. “Yes, I do.”

He wondered about the boy in the picture. Maybe he'd been wrong. “No kids?”

“Actually, I have a son.”

As he'd suspected. “But he doesn't live with you?”

“No.”

Rio's curiosity got the best of him. “He lives with his dad?”

“No. He's with my mom in the Texas Panhandle.”

“That's a long way from here.”

“Yes, but I don't have a choice at the moment.”

Rio hated the pain in her voice. “Why not?”

She sighed, an impatient one. “Just look at where I live. It's not fit for most adults, much less a child.”

“Then why don't you move in with your mother?” As if that were any of his business.

She shrugged and continued to stare out the windshield. “I wish I could, but I can't. There are almost no job opportunities in my hometown. I have a lot of debts, and working in a larger city gives me more pay. I'm hoping to get back on my feet this year, find a better place to live so I can move my son back here with me.” She sat forward and pointed. “Up that next alley. You can park beside my car. It's the ugly white one.”

Rio turned the truck up the potholed pavement and to the space next to the car she'd indicated. Behind them sat a brown brick building, three floors high, shutters hanging out of kilter from windows covered by burglar bars. The scraggly lawn was littered with debris and so was the alley, with several old tires stacked against the building among broken beer bottles.

“Welcome to paradise,” Joanna said as she opened the door.

Rio got out and encountered something hard beneath his foot. He looked down to find a used syringe under the toe of his boot, thankful he'd stepped on the plastic, not the needle. Kicking it aside, he walked to her car.

“What's wrong with it?” he asked.

She hung back at the front of his truck. “I don't know. It won't turn over.”

“Pop the hood.”

“What?”

“Pop the hood. I'll take a look.”

Reluctantly she withdrew her keys and unlocked the
car door, then slipped inside and tripped the release. Rio lifted the hood but the muted rays coming from the guard light didn't afford him enough illumination.

Joanna joined him at the hood and leaned over the engine beside him. Having her so near didn't help his concentration. “I can't see,” he said. “I need a flashlight.”