A Perfect Storm. Lori Foster
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her size and how she looked, she probably took plenty of guys by surprise. “You learned to fight by fighting?”
“Survival is a good teacher.” She smirked. “Back then, I preferred the gambling.”
“And now you prefer fighting?”
She didn’t answer that. “I win a lot because I’m a good cheat. I’m also a good thief, and I’m really good at picking locks.”
Because she’d spent so much time locked in.
With an effort, Spencer kept his tone neutral. “If those skills are what helped you get by, then I’m glad you had them.”
“Even though I broke into your house?”
Keeping his gaze on his tea glass, he offered, “You could have a key if you want.”
“Seriously? You trust me?”
He didn’t, not really. Not with everything. Definitely not with too much intimacy.
But with his belongings?
He met her mocking gaze. “Would you rob me?”
“No!”
“That’s what I thought. So why not give you a key?”
Skepticism kept her quiet for a long study. Finally she smiled. “That’s real big of you, Spence.”
“Spencer,” he corrected with strained patience. He knew she shortened his name whenever she got annoyed—or felt vulnerable.
“But I don’t need a key.” She turned away with feigned disinterest. “Not like I plan to come here that often.”
Probably not, but he wouldn’t mind if she did. Whether arguing with her, wrestling with her, or having dinner, he enjoyed her company. “Then feel free to break in whenever the mood strikes you.”
“Pffft.” She half laughed. “You just took all the fun out of it.”
Spencer smiled in return, but he in no way felt amused. He couldn’t imagine what kind of guts it took, or how it would shape a person, to live through what she’d described. He knew the basics from Jackson, but while she was in a talkative mood, he wanted to hear it—all of it—from her perspective.
“So how does Jackson factor in?”
“Yeah, that’s the interesting part, huh?” A little livelier now, she leaned forward and smiled at him. “See, the bastards didn’t take kindly to me getting away, but when they finally caught up to me, they didn’t want me for the usual.”
To sell, barter and abuse. Gently, he asked, “Why did they want you?”
“To teach the others a lesson—by killing me.”
Under the circumstances, Spencer let the curse pass. They were bastards—and so much more. In contrast to the awful words, Arizona’s cavalier mood made it all too clear how much it still hurt her.
“They…” She faltered, then rallied again. “They roughed me up. I tried to fight, but they tied my hands behind me, and then…” She hesitated, her brows pulling down in a small frown.
It gave him warning of the awfulness of the details she’d share. He braced himself, but not enough.
Voice quieter now, she whispered, “They tossed me over a bridge into a river.”
Air left his lungs; his muscles bunched. He’d known, but hearing it from her made it more—more vivid. “They wanted to drown you.”
She shook off the melancholy. “It was such a miserable night, storming like crazy with lightning cracking everywhere and thunder so loud, you could feel it. I was so scared that when they threw me over, I barely had the sense to stop flailing and try to land feetfirst, to suck in air before that icy water closed in around me.” Using both hands, she pushed her hair back from her face. “I pretty much figured I was dead.”
“Jesus.” His stomach bottomed out. He desperately wanted to hold her, to draw her into his lap and hug her tight and tell her…what? That nothing bad would ever happen to her again?
He knew she’d never allow that, so he settled on reaching for her hand. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“Yeah, pretty sucky, right?” After one brief squeeze, she pulled away. “I managed to get my head above water, but it wasn’t easy, and I knew I couldn’t do that for long. And even if I found a way to make it to shore, they’d just throw me back in again. Or shoot me.”
Imagining the panic she had to have suffered left Spencer hurting for her.
“For certain they weren’t going anywhere until they knew I was gone for good. See, they’d already told me that they needed the police to find my body. That way, they could tell the other women about it and use it as discouragement—”
“I get the picture.” And he wanted to kill them, all of them. But that satisfaction would be denied him; they were already dead.
“They weren’t counting on Jackson, though.” She propped her chin on a fist and smiled. “Poor guy just sort of stumbled onto the whole mess. I’ll never understand why, but he jumped into the thick of things, annihilated the goons, and then…”
Spencer waited.
She sighed and met his gaze. “Jackson dove in after me.”
Off a bridge during a storm into dark waters. Thank God Jackson had been there. “How many men were there?”
“Three.” She grinned with delight at Jackson’s ability. “But when I think of how he looked that night, I don’t think it would’ve mattered if there was a dozen.”
Spencer couldn’t muster even the most meager smile. “Dead?”
“Eventually.” She flapped a hand. “I don’t know if he killed them or…”
“I know about the group, hon.”
She went still, then tipped her head to study him. After a few seconds, she said, “I’m not your hon, but okay, if you know about them, then you already know none of those cretins survived that night.”
Not touching her wasn’t an option. He reached for her slender hand again and moved his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m glad.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Appearing disconcerted, she glanced down at their clasped hands, cleared her throat and eased away. “So that’s it. You already know that Chandra, the head of the ring, got away that night. Because she hadn’t been in the car or standing there on the bridge, the guys never knew she was there in the first place. I didn’t know that they’d missed her presence, so I assumed she was part of the carnage.”
“She can’t ever again hurt you.”
Arizona directed a frown at him. “Because you killed her, when it should have been my privilege.”
He said, “I’m sorry,” and he meant it.
“Well…now all of them are gone, and I’m left at loose ends.”
Her mercurial mood swings kept him guessing. Yes, he’d shot Chandra, but he’d been tracking her for his own reasons, and it was debatable who had more right to vengeance.
That she felt robbed was a sad consequence of his actions. “Ready for dessert?”
Accepting the switch from morbid history to here and now, she said, “Dessert? Seriously? You do know how to treat a gal, don’t you?”
* * *
ARIZONA WAS THINKING how nice it felt to share with Spencer. He didn’t get all mushy on her, didn’t try to console her or make a move. He listened.
And she knew he understood.
Sure, he’d done that odd