Striking Distance. Debra Webb
She wasn’t going to argue with herself anymore. Whatever happened happened. End of subject.
She knew what she had to do.
A few minutes later she leaned forward and surveyed the street signs.
“Why aren’t we headed for Oak Park?”
“That’s not the address I was given,” the cabbie offered with a shrug. He smiled then. “Maybe it’s a surprise.”
Uneasiness slid through Tasha. An all-too-familiar sensation these days. There were surprises and there were surprises. This was definitely one she hadn’t anticipated. Failure to anticipate her target’s moves was a dangerous weakness. He looked more and more as if he was a serious weakness.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, after traveling through several exclusive neighborhoods, the cab braked to a stop in front of a massive ornamental gate. She squinted to make out the house that lay beyond but couldn’t.
After a moment the gate opened and the cab rolled through and toward the house at the end of the drive. As they neared the structure she could make out the soaring, contemporary lines and angles. A high wall enclosed the property for as far as she could see, and if her sense of direction was on track they were near the lake. That would explain the elegant homes they’d passed.
“Here you are.” The cabbie glanced back at her and smiled with masculine approval. “The fare has already been taken care of.”
“Thanks.” Tasha stepped out of the cab and looked around for a bit before moving toward the house. The cab left through the gate, and she heard it close behind him. The house looked dark except for foundation lights that up lit from the well-landscaped shrubbery. But Seth liked the dark.
She moved toward the front entry, wondering where his SUV was parked. A side entry garage perhaps.
As she moved up the steps, the front door opened and he stood there waiting for her. He didn’t speak, just waited. Her pulse reacted and she chastised herself for the lack of control.
If Maverick had tried to follow her, he was nowhere to be seen. But then, that was her fault for removing the one link between her and her backup.
It was just him and her.
She was on her own.
When she’d stepped inside, he closed the door behind her and turned on the lights, the setting far dimmer than she would have preferred.
“Looks like you’ve moved up in the world,” she said to him when he remained silent. Even in the low light she could see that the house was elegantly decorated and expensively furnished.
“This way.”
She followed him up the grand staircase. Surely this wasn’t his home. Maybe Leberman’s? That didn’t make sense, either. Lucas and Victoria would certainly know if he were this close. This place didn’t exactly have a lived-in feel, but it didn’t have that closed-up smell or feel about it, either.
When he stopped again and turned on a light, they were in a generously sized bedroom with French doors that likely led out onto a balcony. She imagined there was a view of the lake. The furnishings were just as exquisite as the ones downstairs, including the massive king-size bed.
He took her purse, then leveled that piercing gaze on her. “Take off your clothes.”
She walked over to him and reached for the buttons of his shirt. “How about we take off yours first?”
Strong fingers encircled her wrists and pulled her hands away from his shirt. “Take them off.”
She backed up a step and considered her limited options. She could refuse and blow this now—maybe have to fight her way out of here—or...
He unzipped her purse then removed a thick fold of bills from his pocket and dropped them inside. When he’d tossed the bag aside he issued his order again. “Now, take off your clothes.”
Unbridled fury scorched through her. “You think I’m some kind of hooker?” She glanced at her bag for emphasis.
When he didn’t answer she huffed in disbelief. “Oh, man.” She stormed out, didn’t even bother with her purse. She wanted to make the right connection with the guy. Earn his trust. This kind of connection would get her nowhere fast.
By the time she reached the landing he was right behind her. She ignored him and kept moving. She was down the stairs and halfway across the entry hall when he stopped her. He whirled her around to face him, his hold on her arms brutal.
“No one walks away from me.”
“Let me go,” she warned.
Something changed in his expression. “I thought you needed a job,” he countered, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
She tried without success to jerk free of his savage hold. “I need a job not a john. Now let me go!”
He released her as suddenly as he’d grabbed her. He took a step back physically and emotionally. “Get your bag. I’ll take you back.”
Tasha couldn’t move for a moment, unable to look away from that fierce gaze just yet. When she could break free of the spell, she turned and hurried up the stairs. She cursed herself every step of the way for being the fool she was. She should be glad that he hadn’t out-and-out raped her. Instead, he’d turned off the desire she knew he had felt as easily as he turned off a light switch.
And, unbelievably, she was disappointed.
Chapter 19
He performed his usual check of the perimeter of the Oak Park property before entering. Thankfully no one waited for him this time. A quick sweep for alien electronics and he relaxed.
If Leberman showed his face once more he might just kill him now and put them both out of their misery. Dread, or something on that order, hardened in his gut. He tamped it down. Hated those old sensations Leberman so easily engendered in him. When Victoria Colby was dead they would be even, anyway. What difference would a few days make? Once his score with Leberman was settled he intended to kill the bastard if he ever came near him again. Just looking at him made Seth remember the past, and he didn’t want to remember.
He climbed the stairs to his room without bothering with light. He was as much at home in the dark as he was in the light, maybe more. The dark had always been his friend. No one could see him in the dark.
Before he could stop the mutinous memory, Leberman’s words echoed in his head. He knew what he was all right. He was pure evil...a monster. Hadn’t he been marked long ago? That was just one more reason he couldn’t trust Tasha. She pretended to see what wasn’t there...pretended not to care what he was.
But he knew differently.
He knew a great deal more than she suspected. He knew exactly what she was doing. Leberman had his sources. He untied his shoes and toed them off, then shouldered out of his shirt and dropped it to the floor. The weapon and holster he shrugged off and lay on the bed. A gun had been his only sleeping partner for more than a decade. He was never without it. Never intended to be, as long as he was still breathing.
As he peeled his T-shirt up and off, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He moved closer to inspect the numerous scars that marred his otherwise well-maintained body. Ugly, brutal marks that told the story of his past. A past he wanted to forget. He studied his face and the slash on his jaw that had been the last one inflicted by the bastard who’d trained him.
He banked the fury that ignited instantly whenever he allowed himself to dwell on the past. His lips flattened into a grim line. The bouts of anger he’d been dealing with lately were nothing but an indicator of his one weakness—the past. When he had paid his final debt he would never think of the past again.
The image of Tasha flashed through his mind, sending a new kind of fire straight to his groin. She was proving a weakness, as well.