A Perfect Storm. Lori Foster
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forehead on a fist. He looked like he’d fallen asleep, but then he said, “She was pretty.”
Feeling absurdly blessed that he’d take part in the conversation, Arizona warmed. “I saw a small picture,” she volunteered. “But I couldn’t tell much.”
“Long brown hair.” He straightened in his seat again. “Not as dark or wavy as yours. Brown eyes. Fair-skinned.”
“Stacked?”
Shaking his head, he said, “Understated.” Done with his cake, he left the table and carried his plate to the sink.
Arizona wolfed down the rest of hers and joined him. “I can do the dishes.”
“I’ll only rinse and put them in the dishwasher.”
“Oh.” He bumped into her, gave her a level look, and with an expression of apology, she moved to the side. But not too far away. “She was your first love?”
“She was…everything.”
He made it sound as if he planned to be single the rest of his life, or as if he assumed he’d never fall in love again. “You married young?”
“Right after she finished college.” He closed the dishwasher. Keeping his back to her, his hands braced on the sink, arms stiff, he said, “She was two years younger than me. A dental assistant with a quirky sense of style, as you can tell by all the cow decor everywhere.”
“I like it.” It made everything feel real homey. “It’s a nice house.” Older, small but very neat, with hardwood floors, cove ceilings and tall baseboards.
Spencer nodded. “She loved this house. Loved being married, too, and she loved me. Eventually, she wanted kids. We were thinking another year or so, but then…”
Then her life had been cut short. Taking a cue from Spencer, Arizona tentatively touched his arm, and waited.
As if the gesture surprised him, Spencer stalled but only for a moment. “She stopped at a convenience store one night on her way home from work. Two men—”
“Part of a human trafficking ring,” she supplied, knowing that from the background check she’d done on him.
“Yeah. They were trying to drag a woman out of there, my wife intervened…”
His hands fisted, and Arizona, feeling really, really awkward, moved her hand from his arm to his back. “I’m sorry.”
“A store clerk died that day, too. Another customer was injured.”
“Senseless. But that’s how it always is. Senseless and cruel and—”
He stepped away from her. “Enough about that.”
Her hand dropped. “You got the guys who shot her.”
“I did. But they were only a small part of a bigger operation.” He squared off with her. “I had as much right to go after Chandra as you did.”
Chandra had been the brains behind that particular ring. Arizona knew, since it was Chandra who’d caught her, twice. Chandra who’d trafficked her. Chandra who’d arranged her street education.
Chandra who’d tried to kill her.
“That’s sort of what I was thinking, actually.” Arizona leaned back on the counter. “We have that in common, when usually I don’t have anything in common with anyone. Since we both want the same things, I’d be willing to forgive how you robbed me of personal justice, if we work together.”
On alert, Spencer took a stance and scowled at her. “We are working together. The Green Goose, right? That’s what you’re talking about?”
“Yeah, the bar and grill.” She tried not to look unsure of herself. “But we could do more than that if you wanted. I could find trafficking rings, do some background on them, and you could be my muscle.”
His eyes narrowed—not a promising sign.
“You’re up for it, right?” Trying for a joke, Arizona reached out and squeezed his upper arm.
Solid with strength. And she knew firsthand about his fast reflexes.
No doubt about it: Spencer was a big bundle of raw power and astounding ability. She admired strength a lot. In his case…maybe too much.
Crossing her arms, she tried really hard to look and sound unaffected. “So, Spence. What do you say? You want to partner up with me on a more permanent basis?”
CHAPTER FIVE
“IT’S SPENCER, AND YOU KNOW IT.” He took her arm and started her toward the living room. “Why do you insist on butchering my name?”
“Actually…I don’t know.” She put on her brakes. “Where are we going?”
“I figured we’d watch some television. Maybe a movie or something.”
After a big yawn, she pulled free. “I need to get going. Burning the candle at both ends has me more tired than usual. I need some shut-eye.”
Shit. He glanced at his watch. “It’s only eight o’clock.”
“Early to bed, early to rise and all that.” She started for the front door and her shoes.
“You get up early?”
“I get up whenever I wake. And more often than not, I can’t sleep. So—”
“Why can’t you sleep?”
Impatient, she glanced back at him. “I’ll tell you all about my sleeping habits—tomorrow.” She bent and pulled on first one unlaced sneaker, then the other.
Arizona had “sloppy” down to a fine art. But it was a look that complemented her attitude. “We still need to talk about the Green Goose. How are we going in, what time, every little detail.” Had Trace already disabled her car? She wanted to leave sooner than he’d anticipated—not that anyone could accurately anticipate anything with Arizona. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”
“I’ve got some ideas for that. We can talk about it tomorrow morning.” Her mouth curled in an acerbic smile. “Or do you have plans with Marla?”
Ignoring that, he said, “Why the big rush?”
She opened the door. “Told you. I’m tired.”
Hot, humid air, thick with the threat of a storm, blasted him as he followed her out. He needed to think of a way to stall her.
Maybe if he hadn’t been so touchy discussing his past… But no, he couldn’t go there. As an alternative, he asked, “Where are you staying?”
Without looking at him, she said, “Just a motel.”
Suspicions bloomed. “What motel?”
“A random dive.” Halfway down the sidewalk, she glanced over at Marla’s house. “Should you be dogging my heels like this? You know your girlfriend probably has her nose to the window, watching your every move.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” He glanced that way, too, and saw a shadow shift from the window. Damn. Catching Arizona before she reached her car, he said, “Forget Marla. Why are you dodging the question?”
“What question?”
He growled out an impatient breath. “The question about where you’re staying.”
“I wasn’t.” She opened her car door to let out the heat and then leaned on the fender. “Thing is, you haven’t yet agreed to be my partner, so why should I tell you anything?”
“Blackmail?”
Her eyes, now bright with mischief, looked even bluer out in the natural light. “Coercion.”