A Perfect Storm. Lori Foster

“Don’t look like that,” she complained. “Until I know you’re on board, I’m not giving you details. Let’s just say I suspect they’re part of a large-scale trafficking ring and maybe using forced labor. I want to look into it. But I’m not dumb. I know I need some backup.”

       Dear God, Jackson looked into large-scale trafficking rings—not Arizona! And he didn’t work alone—he worked with other men who were equally skilled.

       They backed each other up—and they’d given Arizona computer duties in an effort to involve her, while keeping her away from the more dangerous action. She should have been doing no more than researching backgrounds on small-scale, local-level traffickers.

       Research only.

       “I was thinking I could be bait again. You know, put myself out there and see what happens. With you keeping watch, it’d be safe enough, right? If they try to grab me, then we—”

       “No.” His temper shot into overdrive, on a par with his alarm. He said again, with more force, “No.”

       Unmoved, Arizona met his angry gaze—and shrugged. “Fine. I thought you might want to team up, but I can figure it out on my own.” She started to leave the couch.

       He again caught her arm.

       Slim, warm and so soft…

       As she stared at him, her blue eyes lit from a very short fuse. “I’d suggest you stop trying to manhandle me.”

       Hearing the deadly tone in her voice, Spencer opened his fingers. “Give me a second to think, will you?”

       “Huh.” At her leisure, she dropped back again. “So ‘no’ with you isn’t necessarily no? It might mean something else? It could mean that you just want time to think?”

       She was making mincemeat out of him. He had to take control. “I don’t want you anywhere near anything dangerous, especially by yourself.”

       “Yeah, but see, you aren’t my daddy, aren’t my boyfriend, and you sure as hell aren’t anything in-between. So if you don’t want to help, then it’s none of your damn business.”

       What did she consider in-between? “I want to make a bet with you.”

       Her interest perked up. “You do? About what?”

       Already knowing it wouldn’t go over well, Spencer braced himself. “I bet you can’t go a month without cursing.”

       Her chin tucked in, and her brows came down. “What does that have to do with anything?”

       He had no idea, except that it annoyed him to hear her be so coarse. “Go a month without cursing.” He hated himself, but he said, “Every time you slip, you owe me a kiss.”

       Icy stillness fell over her. Silence pulsed in the room.

       Tension gathered like storm clouds.

       Pulling the tiger’s tail, he asked, “Well?”

       Eyes glittering, Arizona slowly pushed to her feet. “Fuck you,” she whispered.

       He could see a pulse tripping in her slim throat.

       He could see the fear she tried so hard to hide.

       “I suggested a kiss, Arizona. Nothing more. And despite what you said, ‘no’ does mean ‘no’ to me. You don’t have to be afraid.”

       “I’m not!”

       “You don’t have to expect the worst, either.” He didn’t move from his position on the couch, but with their gazes locked, it felt as if he touched her all the same.

       It disturbed him—so what would it do to her?

       “I would never hurt you,” he promised. “I’d do my best to protect you from anyone who would.”

       “I don’t need you to protect me.” Her eyes turned glassy, a little wet. “I can protect myself.”

       Not too long ago, she hadn’t protected herself at all. And no one else had, either.

       “You find kissing so repulsive?”

       She shook her head but said, “I don’t know.” Then she added, “I haven’t done much…kissing.”

       “No?”

       Her teeth clenched; she spoke through stiff lips. “A guy who’s paying for his time doesn’t want to waste it on that.” In defiance, she added, “Thank God.”

       Her words felt like a kick in the guts. “Arizona—”

       “They saw me as unclean.” Her chin jutted forward. “And I’m glad!”

       Had she ever been given a sincere, caring, affectionate kiss? He just didn’t know. But they had to start somewhere, or she’d never be free of her past.

       He sat forward. “Given your expression, the idea of kissing me would be insufferable, so I’m guessing it should be incentive enough to clean up your language. Right?”

       She took a step back, then another. Arms loose, bare feet braced apart, she prepared to fight.

       After everything that had happened to him in the past three years, his heart should have been encased in ice. Until Arizona, it had been.

       Now, around her, everything felt as raw as a fresh, hot wound.

       “You trust me,” he pointed out.

       She shook her head. “I don’t trust anyone.”

       Slowly he stood and took a step toward her. “Yes, you do. You don’t want to, and I understand that. I really do. But that’s no way to live and you know it.”

       Shaking her head again, she whispered, “No.” Then louder, “No!”

       He stopped. “Why did you break into my house to tell me it’s your birthday? If you don’t trust me, why did you leave my gun and knife on the nightstand? If you’re afraid of me, why are you here, asking me to partner up with you?”

       She breathed harder.

       As a warning, her small hand bunched into a fist. He didn’t care. If she slugged him, maybe that’d finally make him see reason.

       Maybe he’d finally be able to stop thinking about her.

       “Damn you,” she growled.

       And his doorbell rang.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ARIZONA WATCHED AS CALM settled over Spencer’s features. Oh, chaotic emotion had been there seconds before. She knew it. But now, he looked as collected as a college professor.

       “Excuse me,” he said with absurd formality, and turned to head for the front door.

       The second his back was turned, she let out a pent-up breath and felt her knees weaken.

       Why did he rattle her so much? Fear? Yeah, around him she felt it in spades. But it wasn’t a normal kind of fear.

       It wasn’t anything familiar.

       She’d lived with fear most of her life, first from her father and his cohorts, then from the awful traffickers and the swine who came to them for women. And then…from the idea of being alone, unable to help others.

       Useless.

       From where she stood, the open door blocked her view of his visitor, but she didn’t need a visual, not with the husky female voice now crooning, “Spencer, I’m so glad you’re home.”

       Arizona’s spine went rigid.

       Strength surged back into her legs.

       So did petty animosity.

       She strained her ears but heard nothing, and she suspected the woman