Fit for a Sheikh. KRISTI GOLD
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cushions and crossed them in front of her. “You really don’t think you’re going anywhere tonight, do you?”
“I must if I wish to continue my mission.”
“You’re going to go running through the back alleys of Vegas looking for this Birkenfeld who has—” she checked her watch “—about an hour’s head start? Do you plan to do that on your knees?”
He could certainly think of one thing he would like to do on his knees before her. “I have endured worse injury.” To his body. To his soul.
She sent him a skeptical look. “I’m sure you have. But even if you do manage to walk out of here, and I have my doubts you can tonight, don’t you think he’s probably long gone by now, maybe even left the state?”
“Not likely.”
“How do you know for sure?”
She asked too many questions, required too many answers, knew too much already. But Darin had possibly put her in peril by having her bring him here. The least he could do was reveal a few details. Perhaps then she would understand the consequences if Birkenfeld was not captured immediately. “Can I trust that whatever I tell you will go no further?”
“My lips are sealed and I’m all ears.”
She was all sensual, seductive woman, Darin decided before forcing his thoughts back to the dire situation at hand. “Birkenfeld established a black-market adoption ring he operated using his obstetrics practice as a front. He stole newborns and sold them for large amounts of money. He also murdered a doctor in Texas in order to assume his identity so he could infiltrate a hospital, looking for a woman whose infant he had attempted to kidnap. Fortunately, he was stopped before he could harm her but later escaped authorities.”
“He’s a murderer and a baby thief?” Anger resonated in her tone, the same anger Darin had experienced each time he considered Birkenfeld’s crimes.
“He needs money to pay off East Coast loan sharks and to feed his gambling habit,” he continued. “We have an informant who claims that Birkenfeld has connections here that will enable him to obtain funds. This city also has places where he can easily hide.” But Darin would ferret him out, and soon. Birkenfeld would not escape again.
She remained silent for a few moments as if needing time to analyze the information. “Look, even if that’s true and he’s still in town, you can’t accomplish anything tonight with a bum ankle, especially if you’re not sure where to look.”
She had a valid point, though Darin was reluctant to admit it. “I suppose you’re correct in terms of Birkenfeld going underground.”
“Of course I am. You can stay here tonight then go after him again in the morning, if you’re feeling up to the challenge.”
When she streaked her tongue over her bottom lip, Darin recognized he was definitely up for one challenge unrelated to Birkenfeld.
A strange shuffling sound drew his attention from Fiona’s mouth to the closed door adjacent to the living area. “What is that noise?”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just Lottie. She heard I had a naked man on the couch.”
This was all Darin needed, involving another innocent party. “You should have informed me we are not alone.”
“Oh, you can trust her. She won’t say a word. I’d let her out but she’d just jump all over you and lick your face.”
Hearing the word lick did nothing to help Darin’s threatening state of arousal. “Does she always greet your guests in that manner?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s kind of wild.” Fiona nodded toward the shreds of paper strewn across the floor in the corner. “Today she got bored and tore up my textbook.”
“Are you a student?”
“College student. I’m studying hotel management. And in case you haven’t guessed, Lottie is my dog.”
He was relieved over both revelations. Being alone in an apartment with a woman not of legal age would be another mistake in a long line of many. “I had assumed you were older.”
Her smile faded. “Gee, thanks.”
He was failing miserably at all his endeavors tonight, but at least he had kept her alive. “I meant older than your early twenties.”
“I’m twenty-five, almost twenty-six. I started my career late. Better late than never, I guess.”
“Are you from Las Vegas?”
“Actually, I’m from Idaho. I’ve been here for a few years. I work the bar at night to pay for my school and this dump.”
Darin could not fathom being without adequate funds. He admired her conviction as much as he admired her body. However, he did find her stubborn nature somewhat disconcerting on one level. On another, he found it intriguing. That much passion might translate well in bed. He shifted and looked away.
“How about you?” she asked, again drawing his attention. “Have you always lived in Texas?”
“I have lived everywhere. I have no permanent home.”
“Everyone has to start out somewhere, Scorpio,” she said. “My guess is that you’re not originally from the States.”
“Your guess is correct. I was born in a small country near Oman, but I have not been back for some time.”
“No wife or girlfriend waiting for you? Or are you the kind of guy who has a girl at every stop?”
“I have no ties.” He wanted no ties.
“What about your parents?”
“Both dead.”
She looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry. My dad died when I was young, but my mom’s still alive. She taught me everything I know about bartending because that’s how she supported us. She makes the best gin martini in the good old U. S. of A. Probably in the world. She also taught me how to fight when the situation called for it.”
Her ability to fight had been apparent to Darin when she’d taken on Birkenfeld in the alley. At least he was somewhat assured she could handle herself during a dangerous situation—but only to a point. He would make certain she was not faced with that prospect again—all the more reason for him to make a quick exit from the apartment and her life.
A bark and a whine came from the room at the same time the knock sounded, saving Darin from having to answer questions of a personal nature. He had already revealed more to her than he should.
When he started to stand, she pointed a finger at him and said, “Don’t get up. It’s just Peg.”
“Make certain before you open the door,” Darin cautioned. “Birkenfeld could have followed us.”
She frowned. “And I’m so sure he would be polite enough to knock before he kicked down the door.”
When Fiona walked to the entry, Darin withdrew his gun from the discarded holster on the table and laid it on his lap. He, too, greatly doubted that Birkenfeld would knock, but he intended to be prepared for anything, although he had not been prepared for this woman named Fiona.
He questioned his wisdom in spending the night with her—a woman who had sparked his imagination and effectively lowered his guard, something that could prove costly if he did not practice more care. Yet the prospect of giving her one night of pleasure beyond the limits caused his body to stir to life once more. He was in no shape to chase after Birkenfeld tonight, but he wasn’t totally incapacitated. Despite his caution and his wounds, he would most gladly make love to her in ways she would not soon forget.
But only if she agreed to the terms. No ties. No emotional entanglement. No promises. Whatever happened between them during those hours between dark and dawn would be solely up to her.
Tomorrow