Over the Edge. Jeanie London
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everyone had gotten out of the building by the time the police had arrived.
Except for her dad.
He’d lied and said he’d tripped the alarm. She hadn’t believed him, of course. Neither had anyone else. Duke Hunt didn’t make those kinds of mundane mistakes. Mallory knew he simply hadn’t wanted her to feel guilty about ignoring the backup plan. He hadn’t wanted her to feel responsible for him going to prison or for the crew being forced into retirement. And his lie hurt almost as much as knowing she was responsible.
Almost as much as watching him handcuffed and thrown into the back of a police cruiser.
Almost as much as learning that the world she’d always believed perfectly normal wasn’t normal at all. To hear the police and the child welfare people tell it, her world was an illegal and morally ugly place.
That had confused Mallory at sixteen.
At twenty-six, it still did.
She was Duke Hunt’s beloved daughter, well-loved and cared for. She’d always thought being loved was a good thing whether she’d grown up on the fringes of the underworld or not.
With maturity, she’d come to understand that the real world wasn’t quite as black and white as the authorities painted it. The real world was an unpredictable place filled with good guys and bad guys. Not the classic depiction of white hats and black capes, either, but a place where the boundaries between right and wrong were often blurry and the bad guys could be more charming and gallant than the good guys.
No, her upbringing hadn’t been conventional, but burglary aside, it hadn’t been morally bankrupt either.
Which had led to another life-altering change.
During a visit to the prison where she’d gotten to see her dad through a four-inch-thick sheet of protective glass, she’d been informed that they were all retiring from the family business. The way her dad saw it, four years in prison wasn’t such a raw deal after an illustrious twenty-odd-year career. He’d made Mallory and all of his crew promise to turn their lives around and go legitimate.
Thanks to his business acumen and foresight, he’d provided the means for her and his crew to do exactly that. Nowadays, his crew was sitting pretty with legitimate businesses. Polish Paul owned a tattoo parlor; Eddie Gibb a pawn shop. Only Opal, who’d opted to spend her share of the nest egg on a nice house and expensive plastic surgeries, didn’t own a business. She worked as Eddie Gibb’s office manager instead, squeezing work for Mallory into her free time.
All in all, life was good.
Except for this love-hate thing she had for Jake Trinity.
She loved the fact that she and her friends had gone legit. Well, reasonably legit. She hated being responsible for making the decision that had changed all their lives.
Both occurrences began and ended with a very selfrighteous man she couldn’t seem to get out of her head no matter how much time passed. He’d had a dramatic impact on her life, and Mallory had never been able to decide whether to love him or hate him for his interference. Taking this job for TSS would give her the perfect opportunity to decide which it would be.
The way she saw it, Mr. Straight-and-Narrow would benefit from being knocked on his holier-than-thou ass. And if he wound up taking a hard look at his own morals to see if they held up under temptation, then she’d be honored to provide the temptation.
“Damn.” Her dad’s voice blasted away the image of Jake Trinity quicker than a bait pack exploding in a rigged safe.
Mallory smiled, released the last handhold and tagged the ceiling to end her climb. “Hunt Junior rules the day.”
She didn’t signal her belay partner, waited instead while her dad scaled the last few feet between them, muscles bunching in his powerful arms, sweat pearling at his salt-and-pepper temples, black eyes flashing.
“Great climb, babe.”
“You, too.”
She liked that about her dad. She’d kicked his butt fair and square, and he appreciated a job well done. Although, truthfully, his chances of winning today hadn’t been good. Not only did Mallory have the advantage of thirty-plus years on her side, but her adrenaline was pumping doubletime in anticipation of her upcoming consultation.
“You will give some thought to what I said about working for law enforcement.” He didn’t ask, just leveled a steely expression her way. “Don’t let them become your full-time job.”
She nodded.
His expression softened, and she knew he was satisfied. “Shall we?”
“Let’s do it.”
After signaling her belay partner, Mallory kicked off from the wall, stomach lurching at the rush of a ninetyfoot drop. The air whizzed past her ears, and she laughed, the excitement as thrilling as the prospect of seeing Jake Trinity again.
2
THE WAY Jake Trinity saw it, Mallory Hunt owed him one and the time had come to collect. Angling his sport utility vehicle into a parking spot along the street in front of her upscale brownstone, he glanced at the dashboard.
Ten fifty-seven.
Three minutes to get upstairs and he’d be right on time for their eleven o’clock appointment.
Grabbing his briefcase, he stepped out of his SUV into the bright morning sun just as a low-slung black convertible cruised past him, the driver’s ponytail whipping out on the wind behind her. He quickly pulled in his door so she didn’t take it off as she wheeled into the driveway and came to a sharp stop with a flash of red brake lights.
Mallory Hunt.
Jake knew her name. He knew a great deal about her, in fact, mostly from his preliminary research and references from industry associates who’d contracted her services. But he’d never seen her without a ski mask.
Even if he hadn’t known her address, he’d have known instinctively that this was the woman who’d boldly kissed him ten years ago. He wasn’t exactly sure how he knew, but he did. Even with a sidewalk and a neatly kept yard between them, he felt the same awareness he had on that long-ago night, that same chemistry, as if every nerve in his body had been wired to react to her just by being in the same vicinity.
It was crazy, really, but the moment slowed to a crawl, his every sense heightening as her door swung wide and his mystery woman emerged.
A slim booted foot touched the pavement, and Jake’s gaze traveled up the very shapely length of bare leg as she stepped from the car, the shorts she wore giving him a choice shot of sleek thighs.
She was as delicate as he remembered, but that was where memory ended—the black coveralls she’d worn ten years ago hadn’t molded her curves anywhere close to the way these khaki short-shorts and skin-tight T-shirt did now. The thin—wet?—cotton hugged a trim waist and full breasts in a way that made him drag his gaze over her appreciatively.
Her hair had been pulled back from her face in a thick black ponytail that fell halfway down her back. She swung the door shut, an efficient, graceful motion that brought the memory of the sensuous way she moved crashing back in vivid detail. Then she turned to him….
Jake stopped breathing.
A decade had passed since he’d crossed paths with this woman. She’d blown into his life for a few minutes and the fallout had left him stunned for years. And yes, resentful of her intrusion into his meticulously planned life.
But he’d never had more than an impression of the woman herself, a faceless memory of bold confidence, a lithe body and sensual movements….
And those eyes.
His breath burned tight in his chest by the time she gazed over the rim of her stylish black sunglasses