Anthology: Bad Boys To Go Part 18

She crossed her arms under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and glared at him.

"Well? Am I right on the timing?"

"Roughly," she conceded in an icy tone.

He took a moment to check her gun. It was as she'd said. No bullets. Which made his theory that she was an a.s.sa.s.sin lame at best. Although, maybe her kick was her lethal weapon. He rubbed his back, wondering if she'd bruised a kidney.

He pulled her bag toward him with his foot, waving his own gun at her when he saw her body tensed as though to spring.

And if she did, what was he going to do about it? If she hadn't figured out by now that he wasn't going to shoot her, she soon would.

He took off his tie. He should have taken the thing off hours ago, but he'd been busy pacing, thinking.

Still holding the gun trained on her, he dug around in his suitcase for a couple more ties.

"I really am sorry about this," he said as he approached her.

"No!" Her eyes widened, and she jumped off the bed and lunged for his gun.

"Are you crazy? Stop it. "

They struggled, for a lot longer than they should have, because Adam would neither shoot nor hit the woman. She didn't have the same compunction. He was elbowed, clawed, jabbed, slapped, and punched before he had her tied up on the bed.

While she was squirming, kicking, and generally making his life h.e.l.l, as well as shamefully turning him on, she rapped her head a good one on one of the posts. He paused to ask if she was okay and she turned her head and sank her teeth into his hand.

"G.o.ddam it, that's the second time you've bitten me. Have you had your rabies shots?"

She glared at him, and he glared right back before going into the bathroom and wetting a face cloth in cold water.

When he returned to the room, she was staring at the ceiling, refusing even to look his way as he approached. He slipped a hand under her head until he found the swelling, and slid the cold cloth under the spot.

"You need that more than I do," she said fiercely, and he realized she was frightened.

Taking a step back, he sank into the chair once more, trying to let her know he wouldn't harm her. "I know. You fight dirty. "

One thing puzzled him. "Why didn't you scream?"

Her face reddened. "Don't want a civilian accidentally getting hurt. "

More and more he was convinced she hadn't been sent to kill him. Puzzled, he pulled her bag toward him, and now that she was immobile, he took the time to search it properly. There was a cell phone, an electronic notebook, a coil-bound notebook, her purse, and today's paper folded open to the crossword. Half done.

There was also an open box of granola bars and half a bottle of water.

"Stop that. How dare you go through my things?"

Ignoring her, he flipped open the notebook and his own picture stared up at him. A corporate shot. They must have e-mailed it and she'd printed it onto photographic paper. No date or time stamp. Nothing at all written on either side. Still, if the attachment was still on her computer, it could be traced back to the sender. Evidence.

Her notebook contained a scribble of illegible shorthand notes and a mileage log. Her electronic notebook was pa.s.sword protected.

A handful of business cards yielded the most information. Gretchen Wiest, Licensed Private Investigator. Discretion is our business.

So, it seemed she really was a P. I.

"Gretchen Wiest, is that you?"

She glared at him.

He settled back in his chair. "Look, Gretchen, I'm not any happier about this than you are. I'm going to tell you what I can. "

He leaned back and tried to figure out what, exactly, he could tell the hostile stranger currently tied to his bed like the embodiment of a very juicy fantasy. Her shirt had ridden up when they'd struggled, and the sight of her taut belly was giving him ideas he had no business having. He'd pull the shirt down for her, except he didn't want her to know he'd noticed.

"I'm not married. That wasn't my wife's lawyer who hired you. I don't know who it was exactly, but I've got some ideas." He hesitated, and felt a frown pull his brows together. One thing wrestling with a gorgeous feisty woman had done was banish that frown for a few minutes, but now it was back. With Gretchen's entrance into his life, he knew the task ahead had just become more difficult.

"I'm in trouble. I think the people who hired you to follow me are planning for me to meet with a fatal accident. Gretchen, did you report in? Do they know where I am?"

There was a pause and he heard traffic down on the street. A horn honked somewhere. She shook her head. "I was waiting until I saw you with a woman to report. "

He let out a relieved breath. "I'm not a criminal. I can't tell you any more for your own safety. I'm sorry," he said again. "I won't hurt you but you'll have to stay here tonight. I can't take the chance that you'll call and give away my whereabouts. I'm leaving San Francisco in the morning. Then you can go free. Tonight, I'll sleep in the chair. "

"But my kids." She sounded panicked. "I have to get home for my kids. "

Kids? His stomach lurched. He'd a.s.sumed she was single. No ring.

He did the one thing he'd sworn he wouldn't. He went for her purse. It was tucked in the bottom of the bag. If she had kids, he wanted to see them. He didn't know one parent who didn't carry photos of their offspring.

In two minutes he knew she was lying. "There are no pictures of kids in here, and your video membership card says 'Miss.' "

"It ought to say 'Ms.' and in case you haven't heard, women have children without husbands. Smart women, anyway. "

She had a chip on her shoulder the size of a small country. She must love her work nailing cheating spouses. Story there, but he didn't have time to pursue it.

"If you had kids, you wouldn't put them in danger. You wouldn't let a gun-toting man who ties up women even know of their existence. "

She didn't even bother arguing with him. "Why don't you blow town now? Leave me here, and take off if killers are after you. "

"I have my reasons. I'm sorry," he said for the third time.

He went to the window and scanned the street carefully, but nothing had changed. He drew the drapes and resumed his seat. The brown paper sack caught his eye. "I almost forgot. Dinner." He pulled out a deli sandwich and a soda. He got a gla.s.s from the bathroom and poured half of the soda into it, split the sandwich and placed it on a napkin. "I hope you like chicken salad," he said, placing it on the bedside table. Then he untied her left hand, having noted already that she was right-handed.

She glared at him again, but he was getting used to it. Besides, he thought that if the positions were reversed, he'd be doing some glaring, too.

He was half prepared for her to throw the sandwich and drink at him, but she didn't. She ate and drank. Sensible woman. He liked that.

"So," he said, putting down the gun and picking up his half sandwich. "Do you hate all men or is it just me?"

Chapter Three.

Gretchen jerked awake, startled by the sound of a radio alarm, panicked by a nightmare. It took a second for everything to come back to her, and then she almost wished it hadn't. The nightmare was real.

She glanced over and Adam Stone's eyes flickered open. She watched a grimace of discomfort cross his face and saw his hand go to his neck, bent at an awkward angle on the chair. She hoped it ached like h.e.l.l.

"Good morning," he said.

"It will be a good morning when you let me go and get the h.e.l.l out of my life. "

She uncurled herself, hating to be so vulnerable before a stranger. As soon as he untied hera Wait a minute. She wasn't much of a morning person, but even her fogged brain could work out that she couldn't have curled up in sleep if her arms and legs were still bound.

"When did you untie me?" She felt even more foolish knowing she could have walked out any time in the night and instead had snoozed until the alarm woke her. Given her track record for the last twenty-four hours, she was going to have to give some serious thought to a career change.

That disturbing glint of humor lurked deep in his eyes again, as though he read her mind and understood her discomfort.

"Come on," he said far too cheerfully. "I'll buy you breakfast. "

"Thank you," she said from behind gritted teeth, "but all I want to do is go home. "

He glanced at his watch, then winced and rubbed his neck. "What about some coffee?"

"This is ridiculous." She threw off the covers and put her feet on the floor. "I have work to do, a life." She had no idea who this man wasa"a cheating spouse, a criminal, an innocent man on the run as he claimed, or simply a wacko, but she wanted to part company with him. The sooner the better.

He rubbed his hands over his face and she saw the stubble that shadowed his chin and cheeks. "Okay. I need to get a copy of the e-mail my picture came with. We can stop at your office. "

Oh yeah. That was going to happen. Maybe she hadn't been completely on top of her game so far in their short acquaintance, but Mr. Stone was about to discover she had a few surprises in store.

All she had to do was figure out what those were.

Meanwhile, he politely offered her the bathroom first. As she'd discovered last night, the bathroom window was about the size of a postcard. No way of escape.

She was dying for a shower, but the idea of getting naked with Stone in the other room was not a prospect that filled her with glee. She'd wait until she was home.

So she washed, used some of his toothpaste on her finger to brush her teeth, finger-combed her hair, and gave up.

"Okay, here's how we'll do it," he said when she emerged. "You'll drive. First we head for your office, I grab the e-mail, then you drive me to a place I'll designate and I disappear from your life. Agreed?"

"I caught a cab from the airport and followed you on foot. "

He rolled his eyes. "Your car's the beige one halfway down the block. And you've got a ticket. "

"Ticket?" She ran to the window, and sure enough, something white and ominously papery fluttered from under her windshield wipers. Her professional pride took another blow. "You even knew my car. "

"Hey, if you weren't gorgeous, and I wasn't running for my life, I wouldn't have noticed. "

She scowled out the window. She didn't have time for gorgeous. Or for the tug of flattery his compliment elicited.

"Come on," he said.

She did, picking up her bag while he fumbled with heavy cases and still tried to point the gun at her. She watched him for a few minutes then stepped forward. "I'm enjoying the one-man rendition of the Three Stooges, but if you keep this up, somebody's going to get shot." She grabbed his flight bag. "We both know you're not going to kill me. I'll drop you somewhere public and then we're done with each other. Have a nice life. "

He didn't argue, and slid the gun into a side pocket in his backpack.

The breakfast he bought her was from a drive-through, but there was coffee and it was hot so she didn't care. Truth was, now the night was over and he'd kept his word, she no longer felt vulnerable. What she felt was curious. It was probably her insatiable curiosity and love of solving puzzles that had lured her into this line of work in the first place.

She wasn't a fool. She'd run background checks on both Stone and Fisk before taking the case. Stone was a petroleum engineer and Fisk was a prominent divorce attorney in Houston. She'd never thought to confirm that Stone was married. If he wasn't, or even if he was, why would someone want to kill him?

Once they'd pulled back into traffic, he said, "Okay. Now your office. "

She'd already received half her fee up front. Since the client obviously wasn't going to get incriminating pictures of Stone and a womana"unless it was of hera"then the least she could do was give her client confidentiality.

"I can'ta""

"Gretchen, this is important." The way he said her name, as though they were a team, gave her a jolt.

She also realized that she believed him. Well, she was a little skeptical about the running for his life part, but obviously he hadn't met a woman for a wild weekend. She was a fair person; if they'd sent her that photo under false pretenses, she supposed Adam had a right to see it.

"All right," she said. "But I can't go near my office until I've had a shower." She glanced at her watch. It was a few minutes after eight. "I live in a secure building and you will be waiting outside on the street. Got it?"

He made a sound of frustration in his throat, and quickly stifled it. Smart guy. She'd been scared half to death, had precious little sleep, and fast food outlet coffee. She needed a shower, fresh clothes, and deodorant.

"Nice building," he said as she slowed, coming up on her place off Ninth Avenue near Golden Gate Park. He hadn't hurt her, had suffered on an uncomfortable chair all night, and was going to be out of her life in minutes. It made her charitable enough that she was almost friendly.

"It used to be a single-family residence, but now it's been chopped up into apartments. I love it." She glanced up to her bay window on the second floor and felt a puzzled frown pull her brows together as a man appeared briefly at the window. "That's odd," she said. "The super must be in my apartment. I wonder why?"

She glanced at her companion and saw him reaching for his backpack, the nice guy who'd bought her breakfast gone in a heartbeat. "You did call in, didn't you?"

Her face must have given her away.

"Drive! Go on. Get out of here. "

"It's probably just a leak or something and the super's in my apartment." But she pulled out into traffic and tried not to floor it. Adam's jitters were catching.

"You can call him from across town." He glanced at her. "Your office. "

She nodded. A strange tension gripped her as she drove. As hard as she tried to convince herself there was an innocent reason for the man's silhouette she'd seen, her skin still crawled and she gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached.

As soon as they got to her office, she'd call the super and find out what was wrong in her apartment. Then she'd give Mr. Stone his e-mail and she'd carry on with her day and hope to h.e.l.l it was better than yesterday.

But within a block of her office, she knew her day was tanking in the worst way.

The sirens alerted her first. She had to resist the urge to turn down the street and race to where the fire trucks were pulled up outside the remains of her office. The road was barricaded, but it didn't take more than a glance to figure out what had happened.

The fire was all but out. A few dirty gray tendrils of smoke clung to the roof. Water dripped everywhere and a fire hose was still trained on one gaping window; the gla.s.s had either blown out or been hacked out.