Torn (2 page)

“He wants you in the field so that you can get past your fear.” Wade's gaze searched hers. “But if you aren't ready . . .”

“I am.” She nodded briskly. “I'm more than ready.”

His lips firmed. “You don't have to lie to me.”

Yes, yes, I do. I have to lie to everyone.
But she couldn't very well tell him that.

I just need to get some control back.
No, maybe what she needed was to lose that control, for just a little while. That had helped her in the past. It would help again.

Her shoulders relaxed as the plan blossomed in her mind. And, after a few moments, her left hand lifted. She was the one to touch Wade as she lightly skimmed her fingers over his cheek. “Don't worry about me. I'm fine.”

His nostrils flared. “You don't even see the threat, do you?”

There was no threat. Not with him. He was her friend, nothing more. Nothing less. So she was attracted to him. So—­

“You're playing with fire.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “And you don't even know it.”

Maybe I like the fire.
“Start the elevator,” Victoria told him softly. “Seven
A.M.
is going to be here too soon, and I have a lot to do tonight.” More than she'd realized. Her hand slid away from him.

Slowly, Wade backed away. He reached out and pushed the button to start the elevator once more.

Her breath eased out on a sigh of relief.

“You know,” Wade murmured, “partners are supposed to trust each other.”

“Is that what we are? Partners?”

“On this case.”

She'd never had a partner before.

“But . . .” Wade continued, voice thoughtful. “I think you're holding back on me. Keeping secrets.”

I am.
The doors opened. She slanted a quick glance his way. “Maybe when you tell me your secrets,” Victoria said, “then I'll share mine.” And she nearly ran from the elevator. “See you tomorrow.” She didn't look back but could feel his gaze on her.

You'll never know my secrets.
Because she never let anyone get close enough to know them. That was one of her rules.

F
OLLOWING YOUR PARTNER
wasn't standard procedure, not at LOST, not at any damn place. But at ten o'clock that night Wade found himself sticking to the shadows as he followed Victoria Palmer—­
Dr. Victoria Palmer—­
into one of the wildest clubs in Atlanta.
Wild Jokers.

It wasn't Victoria's kind of place. He knew that. Hell, he'd bet his life on it. He'd been worried about her—­a nagging worry that wouldn't leave him alone—­and found himself heading to her building.

He'd arrived just as she left and . . .

I followed her.

Because something had been different. Not just
one
thing. Her pants had been traded in for a short skirt. A form-­fitting top hugged her breasts. Her long, dark red hair wasn't pulled back in a ponytail or in one of her usual long braids. Instead, her thick hair flowed loosely over her shoulders.

And her glasses—­the glasses that he always found sexy—­were gone.

She almost looked like another woman. She was sure acting like one, too.

She strode into the club as if she owned the place. The bouncer let her sweep right past the snaking line. Wade had to give the guy fifty bucks just so he could cut through and follow her.

And once inside . . . the music was pumping. Roaring. Bodies were pressed together in a giant blur on the dance floor. The drinks were flowing, voices were rising, and Wade was pretty sure people were having sex in the corners.

Having sex. Getting high. Doing anything they wanted.

This isn't her place.
Victoria didn't belong in Wild Jokers.

She had started working for LOST right around the time he'd come aboard. She was smart—­crazy, wicked smart—­and the woman always seemed to be bubbling with energy. He'd noticed that she didn't like to be still very much—­she was a mover, a thinker, a doer.

She was friendly at the office but she didn't flirt. Not with him, not with any of the LOST staff. Just business, that was Victoria. Killer hot, just business Victoria.

She'd been putting up Keep Away signals from day one, so he'd stayed back.

Even if her body was wonderfully curved. Even if her gorgeous hair was sexy and thick. Even if he sometimes looked into her green eyes and almost forgot what he'd been about to say.

Just business.

Victoria Palmer was a beautiful woman, but one who tried to downplay her looks. A futile effort since there was no hiding her smooth skin, her high cheekbones, and her full, sensual lips.

Maybe he thought about her too much.

There's no maybe about it.

Especially lately. Their last few cases had taken deadly turns, and he'd started to see her in a whole new light.

Just not this light.

This place . . . this scene . . .

Victoria sauntered up to the bar. She ordered a drink. When the martini glass with the bright green liquid was placed in front of her, she made quick work of downing the drink.

She must definitely be in the mood to let off some steam. And if that was her goal . . .
I can help.

But some bozo had already moved in on her. A big blond guy with hands that immediately reached out and settled around Victoria's waist.

Wade lunged forward. Victoria didn't like to be touched. He knew that. He'd seen the way she shut down when someone touched her, so he made sure to keep his hands off and—­

She didn't shove the guy away. She turned back to him. Smiled. And put her hand on his chest.

Wade froze.

Some asshole bumped into him, and he snarled at the guy. The music rose around him—­harder, sharper—­and Victoria was laughing as she stared up at the blond stranger.

What in the hell?

Wade shook his head. Victoria was out for a hookup. That much was obvious. And he was standing there, glaring at her. He needed to get his shit together. This was none of his business. They might be partners, but if she found out that he was there . . .

Clenching his back teeth, Wade whirled away. Victoria was a grown woman. More than capable of looking after herself. He strode toward the exit.

But something is wrong. I've seen pain in her eyes lately. Pain that she tries to hide from everyone else.

He stilled. His gaze cut to the left. Yeah, that was a woman nearly having sex up against the wall. This club was all about the fast hookups. Strangers in the dark. He knew because . . .

I've been here before.

Wade looked back over his shoulder, but Victoria was gone. So was the blond guy. Real alarm shot through Wade as his gaze flew over the packed dance floor.

He didn't see Victoria, not anywhere.

Wade started searching the shadows. It had just been a moment. Where the hell was she? He rushed up to the bar and slammed his hands down on the bar top.

A bored-­looking bartender glanced his way. The guy was sporting what looked like a freshly styled Mohawk.

“The sexy redhead in the short skirt,” Wade bit out. “Where did she go?”

The bartender jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Headed out the back door.”

Wade shoved away from the bar and hurried toward the door.

“I don't think they want to be bothered!” the bartender yelled after him.

Screw that. Victoria couldn't just run off into the night with some stranger. Considering the business they were in, she
knew
just how dangerous that behavior could be.

He shoved open the back door and it bounced against the brick wall. More shadows waited for him. Shadows and stench—­it reeked out there, smelling of old booze and cigarettes. It was
not
Victoria's scene. She was fine wine. She was flowers. She was seduction.

And he still wasn't seeing her. Wade rushed forward. He turned to the right, saw the narrow alley and the couple locked in a hard embrace.

The man had the woman up against the wall. Her hands were on his shoulders and—­

“Victoria.”
Her name tore from Wade before he could get enough control back to stop himself.

The man whirled to face him. Same big blond guy. And, apparently, he was a guy who liked to fight—­because he whirled and lunged at Wade with his fists clenched.

“Stop!” Victoria cried. He'd know her voice anywhere.

She'd been making out with that jerk.

Wade glared at the guy. It was too dark for him to see the man's expression clearly. They were close to the same height and build, but Wade didn't doubt he'd be able to take the creep down.

“You need to get the hell out of here,” the man told him. His voice was a low growl.

“Actually,” Wade fired right back, “I will be leaving. With Victoria.”

The fellow cursed. “The hell you—­”

“Easy, Flynn. I know. He's my . . . partner at work.” Victoria pushed between them. Her hand slid across Wade's chest, and heat singed him. “Why are you here?” she asked him.

I followed you. I've got some issues. More than some.
“Maybe I'm here for the same reason you are,” he said instead. “A fast fuck in the dark.”

She flinched. Then said, very clearly and flatly, “We were kissing, not fucking . . . in case you couldn't tell the difference.”

Oh, hell. He hadn't meant to hurt her.
Jealousy makes me such an ass.
Hurting Victoria was the last thing he ever wanted to do. His voice softened as he said, “It's time for us to go home, Victoria.” And yeah, he emphasized the
us
because he wasn't leaving without her.

“Vik . . .” The other man rolled back his shoulders.
Vik . . .
Wade realized that the blond man wasn't a stranger to Victoria. There was too much intimacy in his voice. “Who is this joker? And do you want me to kick his ass?”

I'd like to see you try.
What had she called the guy? Flynn? Freaking Flynn. He hated the man.

“I told you, he's my partner at work. And . . . Wade's a friend, too,” Victoria said. “Sorry, Flynn, but I have to go.” Her right hand was on Wade's chest but her left was on Flynn's, and Wade really wanted her to stop touching the guy. “Go back inside. I'm all right with him, really.”

The blond guy's hand rose. Slid over her cheek. “You know where I am. When you need me, find me. I'll always come when you call.”

She doesn't need you.

And then he just . . . walked away. Just left Victoria in the alley.

Victoria didn't speak for a few moments. She did pull her hand away from Wade. They stood there, Victoria in front of him, her body so close, her scent—­light lavender—­rising over the smell of that stale alcohol. Wade tried to figure out what to say to her. He tried to find the words that would smooth over this mess that was developing between them.

“What are you doing?” she finally asked him.

He had no clue. Making an ass of himself? Yeah. Because when he'd seen Victoria with that jerk, jealousy had burned through him and he'd lost the ability to have a sane thought.

“Wade, please, answer me. Why are you here?” Victoria pressed.

He really wished he could see her eyes in the dark. Victoria's green eyes could shine with so many emotions. “Why are
you
here?” Wade asked her. “I know you aren't into bars like this. I've heard you say before that these places aren't your kind of scene.”

Victoria just shook her head and started walking away from him. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she muttered.

No, she was going to see him right then. He was tired of feeling as if Victoria didn't see him.
I don't like her looking through me.
He caught her wrist. “You know how dangerous it can be to hook up with strangers.” At LOST they'd seen—­firsthand—­what death and horror could follow when you trusted the wrong person. The rest of the world might walk around with blinders on, but they didn't. They
couldn't.

“Maybe I was in the mood for some danger.”

Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear it, and then he shook his head, hard, even as his fingers tightened around her wrist. “That's not you.” But Victoria had been changing. Ever since that damn attack. Ever since . . .
I nearly lost her.

And he hadn't even realized how important she was to him, not until then. Victoria and her sharp mind. Her slow smile. Her sexy glasses.

He hadn't realized it . . . not until he'd seen her covered in blood.

I won't lose her. Not to some psycho killer. Not to some random stranger.

“Maybe you don't know me nearly as well as you thought,” she said.

For some reason, her words pissed him off. “Actually, I think I know you better than you realize.” He'd worked intimately close with her—­and intimate was the key word. He'd spent too many hours with her. Fantasized about her. Realized that the one thing he wanted—­

Was right there.

“I'm taking you home,” Wade said.

“Oh, Wade . . .” Victoria sighed his name. “I don't need protecting. I'm an adult. I can take care of myself.”

“And I'm your
friend.
” That had been her word choice. “So let me just give you a ride home, okay?” Because he needed to get her out of that alley. Away from that club.

Before the blond bozo came back. Freaking Flynn.

“I haven't stopped you from sleeping with anyone,” Victoria said.

Yeah, baby, you have.
Maybe she didn't get just how drastically his life had changed since her abduction. Maybe it was time that he stopped playing it cool. Stopped giving her
time
and started acting.