Sweet Seduction Stripped (Sweet Seduction, Book 7) Page 4

  "I think I can," he argued softly.

  "Who the hell are you, Ric? You clearly know Jaxon. Did he put you up to this? Is Ric even your name?"

  "My name is Eric. I like Ric, though. Only you call me that."

  I wasn't sure how to feel about that. The astonishment, and I admit elation, at having a private moniker for him was surely misplaced. I remained silent. I'd said more than enough already.

  If Ric knew Jaxon, saying anything could mean my or my father's immediate death.

  I gripped the cellphone tighter, realising I'd started panting in fear again.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  "Amber, sweetheart. Slow down."

  I shook my head again, pulled the phone away from my ear and swiped the call closed. My forehead came down until it rested on the carpet. My body curled into a ball as though that would protect me now.

  Nothing could. Jaxon was a no good, murdering bastard. I was sure I'd be next on his list.

  "I'm sorry, Dad," I whispered, forcing myself to my feet. "I'm so fucking sorry."

  I walked out of the bedroom and straight down to the front door. I didn't stop. I didn't look at a thing. As though that would prevent any distractions, or stop the changing of my mind.

  I pushed the down button on the elevator in a haze, my vision blurred so much I couldn't make out my reflection on the polished lift doors. The ding it made as it came to rest on my floor startled me. When it swooshed open, I half expected to see Jaxon standing there. Gun barrel pointed at my head.

  I know too much.

  I scrambled into the lift and hit the button for the garage level, then felt my stomach disappear as the elevator descended the necessary distance. Time seemed distorted. Before I knew it, I was standing on the smooth concrete of the echoing parking area.

  Crossing the silent garage to my vehicle was unnerving. My knuckles fisted white around my keys, my eyes kept darting from shadowed corner to shadowed corner. No one jumped out at me, but my heart had started to actually hurt inside my chest; it beat too hard, too fast, too frantically.

  The beep of my little car unlocking made me jump. I had to catch my breath for a second before I opened the door and threw my bag on the back seat. Once inside I flicked the locks and stared blindly out of the windscreen.

  I can do this. I had to. I knew too much.

  My hands curled around the steering wheel and for a moment I just breathed, sweat dripping down the side of my neck, soaking into the collar of my t-shirt. I couldn't stop thinking about Dad. Lying in that bed, hearing I'd disappeared. Facing Jaxon's wrath.

  Then my frenetic mind skipped to that encrypted file I had cracked. The images inside it flashing behind my closed eyelids. So much blood, yet the skin on the faces of the dead was porcelain white.

  And the man I had been sharing my life with, my body with, in one too bright, too vivid picture. Standing over a kneeling, blindfolded, hands-cuffed-behind-back, trembling person holding a gun to his head.

  The next shot was taken as the bullet went flying and lodged in the victim's brain. Blood splatter arced through the air, the muzzle on the handgun glowed. And Jaxon just grinned.

  I knew that grin. I'd seen that grin. Jaxon sometimes grinned at me that way.

  I sucked in a shaking and nauseated breath of air and started the car. Thank God it was an automatic. It was hard enough remembering how to steer the bloody thing, changing gears would have been too much right then. The garage door lifted up as I approached, my headlights flicked on automatically as I left the artificial brightness of the parking area, and I entered into Auckland's night.

  Jaxon's apartment was in Parnell. Champagne & Chandeliers was a short distance away in Lower Queen Street, near Fort. I always thought it amusing that the exclusive gentleman's club was situated on Auckland's premier business street, but within spitting distance of one of its more nefarious red light districts. Those strip clubs on Fort Street did not compare. Or so I'd told myself.

  C&C Enterprises probably owned most of them as well.

  I drove away from the city centre towards Newmarket, intending to get on the motorway there and head south. But as I navigated Broadway my resolve faltered. The further I got from Jaxon the easier it was to breathe. But the further I got from Jaxon, the further I was from Dad. I could breathe, but I couldn't stop crying. The tears not for leaving my boyfriend and the place I'd called home. Not for turning my back on the job I'd worked so hard for or the city I loved. But for my dad.

  I couldn't do this.

  But I couldn't go back. Not yet.

  I pulled into a parking spot down the far end of Broadway and sat listening to the cars drive past on one side of me and the pedestrians out for a night on the town walk past on the other. Reds and golds and blues and greens flickered around me as lights on shop signs flashed and cars streamed past adding to the over stimulation of colours.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  I'm not sure how long I sat there, but eventually I realised I was looking at a little alleyway to the side that led to an Irish Pub. The green and white swinging sign above the door read The Claddagh. Jaxon hated Irish pubs.

  I couldn't go back yet. I couldn't go forward. So, for a moment out of time I would forget. Ensconce myself in an environment that Jaxon would abhor. Just until I could think of something, anything, to get myself out of this mess.

  I climbed out of my car and locked the doors. Then watching the immediate vicinity warily, I walked toward the entrance to the pub, pushing my way inside and being met with the exuberant sounds of live music; an upbeat cover of a Corrs song. The customers all singing along and downing their Guinness beers in relative harmony.

  I felt immediately safer. The crowd alight with laughter and conversation, enjoying the band's performance and wiling away the late night hours. A haven in the middle of chaos. An oasis to hide amongst like the cluster confusion of carefully laid false trails to cover a hack. I grabbed a beer from the bar and found a corner to settle into, intending to people watch, nurse my drink, and miraculously come up with an answer to the mess I was in.

  I was sure I'd probably only succeed in one of those endeavours. My mind too scattered to enjoy the antics of the crowd, my fear too great to puzzle out an answer, and my stomach too churning to suffer a belly full of beer. So, nursing the drink it was.

  The first two guys to approach my solitary position soon got the message I wouldn't make great company tonight. Not long after that word must have gotten out, because I wasn't bothered again for quite some time. When I'd been there, staring into my still full beer for more than half an hour, the Corrs now moved on the Commitments, a determined suitor braved my corner of the world.

  His shadow registered before he did. And as I silently cursed my inattentive - or distracted - mind, I lifted hard eyes up to his, hoping my look alone would scare him off.

  Then sucked in a startled breath of air. The ability to breathe afterwards all but forgotten, as I was drawn inexorably into mesmerising green.

  "Didn't pick you for an Irish Pub fan, Dancer," Ric said as he sat himself down opposite my seat, Guinness beer already in hand.

  I jerked back in my chair, my eyes darting around the room finally, but not spotting anyone I knew.

  Licking my lips nervously, I asked, "What are you doing here?"

  "You're in my neck of the woods now, sweetheart," he shot back, taking a long pull on his drink.

  The question was out before I could stop it. "You live around here?" Admittedly, I was intrigued. Any information on him could be helpful. But this was dangerous ground I was treading, and letting surprise distract me could cost my life.

  He shrugged. "Might as well. My work is just up on Broadway, past the traffic lights. Spend more time there than at home."

  That sounded a little sad.

  "What's the name of your work?" I asked, unable to resist the allure of knowing more. More about the hazards I could be facing? Or just more about this man?

  H
e smiled. It made the greens of his eyes sparkle, fine wrinkle lines appeared at their corners. I found my gaze flowing over his features, soaking him up. I'd been so bamboozled by the vibrant green of his eyes earlier that I hadn't taken in much more than that. But Eric was a looker. Jet black hair, cropped close to his head, matching stubble along a firm jawline. His neck was thick, like he worked out often. His wide shoulders complemented that theory.

  He wore a black leather jacket and plain black t-shirt underneath, with black jeans, boots and belt. He had a ring on his right hand. Gold, an emblem of some sort on it. Dragon I think. But my eyes couldn't stay there for long, they kept being drawn back up to the green, then down to the curve of his full, red lips.

  Black hair, green eyes and lips made to kiss a girl senseless; that was my Ric.

  Who would have thought the hacker geek was such a looker?

  I smiled back at him. It was instinctive. The pull magnetic. I simply couldn't resist.

  "Fuck me," he muttered. "So fucking young," he added with a shake of his head. I frowned.

  A huff of breath left him as he offered an amused smile to cover his faux pas.

  "Amber," he said at last. "I don't work for your boyfriend."

  My returning grin slowly fell. The reason why I was hiding in a noisy, drunken, Irish Pub crowd came rushing back in, banging painfully on the insides of my head and chest. The distraction Ric caused me had barbed claws; it hurt to be reminded that I shouldn't - couldn't - trust anyone right now.

  "Sweetheart," he said in a rumble that somehow was heard over the music from the band. "I'm one of the good guys."

  I leaned back further in my chair and narrowed my eyes at the man. Good guy? Oh, no. I knew a bad-boy when I saw one, and now I knew exactly what I should do.

  I gathered my resolve and prepared to walk away.

  Like I should have walked away when I first met Jaxon Harding.

  Like I was walking away right now.

  Chapter 5

  He'll Kill You If He Finds Out

  His hand gripped my upper arm before I'd made it anywhere near the doorway. I tried to jerk free, but his hold was like a steel band. Burning my bare skin. I glanced down to where he was gripping me, noting it was the hand with the dragon ring. There was a tiny ruby set in the dragon's eye. It seemed such an inconsequential thing to focus on, but with my heart pounding in my throat and my brain all but shut down, I kept staring.

  Ric leaned in, hot breath washing over my earlobe, and said loud enough to hear over the band and pub crowd, "Don't run."

  My eyes shot up to his. Concern and, oh God how I wanted to believe, genuine worried looking green stared back at me. My breaths rushed out in uneven pants.

  "You're scared," he said. "I get that. But I'm not the enemy. I promise."

  My head shook as I tugged on his hold of my arm, frantic to escape the sincerity I wasn't sure I could trust in that compelling gaze.

  "Amber," Ric pressed, "I need your help."

  That made me stop struggling, stop breathing, stop moving at all. I stared up at him, realising he was just as tall as Jaxon, maybe not as wide in the shoulders, but equally as omnipresent. I had a bad track record, I knew that now. Attracted to large, powerful, confident men. Bad men. Ric's proximity made me want to lean forward and smell his cologne, and run away screaming in equal measure.

  "My help?" I found myself asking.

  He nodded, and then gently led me back to the table where his beer still sat. I was surprised no one had stolen our seats, the pub was almost overflowing. Which was why no one noticed our little scene. Too busy drinking and having fun.

  Suddenly I wasn't so sure if my chosen location was a good one anymore.

  I sat down, my legs too shaky now to make a successful escape. Crossing my arms over my chest I stared at Eric as he too sat, eyes on me - as though he was waiting for me to enact that escape. We both knew it would fail. He'd just haul me back again.

  God, I needed to change the way I viewed the opposite sex. Why couldn't I have been attracted to an accountant? Why couldn't Ric have been a stereotypical hacker geek?

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet, then slipped an ID card across the table's surface toward me. I hesitated only briefly, then curiosity, that bitch, had me snaking out a hand and picking the little plastic card up. It was a private investigator's license. Ric's name was indeed, according to this, Eric. Eric Arthur Shaw. He was also thirty-one years old.

  Yeah, my track record was bad. Attracted to older men. That's me.

  My eyes scanned his face, his physique, his clothes. He sure as hell didn't look thirty-one. He looked stunning. Edible. Hot.

  A flush washed up my cheeks and I returned my attention to the card in my hand. It said he was employed by Anscombe Securities and Investigations, Broadway, Newmarket. He hadn't been lying when he mentioned his workplace being just up the same road we were on.

  "What does this mean?" I asked, pushing the card back to him across the table. His fingers brushed mine when he reached for it. A spark arced between them, making me suck in a breath of air as his eyes shot up to mine.

  Holy fucking shit. The green had darkened, almost a black. Sexy as fuck.

  And bad. Very bad. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest defiantly. I would not be ruled by my hormones.

  Ric's eyes shot down to my breasts. His lips curved up in an appreciative smile. He didn't look away for what felt like an eternity, and then he moved back, effected a relaxed pose and took a gulp of his beer.

  I'd remained motionless. Prey caught in the sights of a predator.

  Unfortunately, it turned me on.

  I was a complete and utter lost cause. Running from one bad-boy into the cross-hairs of another.

  "It means," Ric started, "that I know exactly what type of man your boyfriend is. I know the danger he brings to your door. And it means I'm ideally suited to help you escape him."

  My chest tightened. Could this be a trap? For all I knew Ric was making this whole PI thing up, and was actually on the payroll of C&C. Was Jaxon testing me?

  "What makes you think I want to run?" I asked, cocking my head to the side and studying him.

  Frown lines appeared in his forehead as his eyes narrowed on me. He spun his near empty beer glass absent-mindedly in his hand as he held my stare.

  "Gym bag in your car," he said softly. "You packed in a hurry. Bank accounts emptied. You needed the cash. Middle of the night, and I know for a fact Harding's at Champagne & Chandeliers back on Queen. And here you are heading in the opposite direction. You're pale, you've been sweating, panicked. Those big, beautiful, melted chocolate eyes too wide, your hands shaking every now and then."

  Then he added in a growl, "And you've been biting your bottom lip, chewing on it." With that he reached across the space between us and ran his thumb along the bottom curve of my mouth.

  I was so shocked, I froze. His hand pulled away in the next instant and I almost followed it. Instead I tightened my arms over my chest and lifted my chin in challenge.

  "H..how do you know all that?" I demanded, cursing the tell-tale stutter.

  "Private investigator, sweetheart. It's what I do."

  "How long have you been watching me?" I felt my face blanch. Had he befriended me on that forum because of who I dated?

  I let a shaky breath of disappointed air out. Then rubbed at my temples, trying to ward off the headache that had begun.

  "I only found out who you are tonight, Amber. Up until you tried to hack me, you've always just been Dancer to me."

  I lifted my eyes to his, he held the gaze determinedly, as if trying to convey the veracity of his statement with a look alone.

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table's surface, lacing his fingers together as he went on.

  "What I don't understand is why you stopped here? Why not keep running? Why here?"

  I didn't say anything. I didn't move. Just stared at him and tried to decide if th
is was happening. If this man, who I had thought I'd known on-line for the past few years, could be the answer I'd been searching for tonight. I wanted to believe he was everything I had thought him. But hell, he'd proven this evening how freaking good he was at what he did.

  Multi-layered re-routing, some the most impressive code I've seen in quite a long time. Hijacking my secured laptop with apparent ease. He knew my name. My address. Who I lived with, where he worked. I had to assume he knew that I worked for C&C as well. And he'd been in my bank records this evening, after Jaxon had cleared them out.

  It wasn't looking promising for Mr Eric Shaw.

  And my time was running out. The night getting later and later, before too much longer Jaxon would check on me and find me gone.

  "Trust me," Ric whispered.

  I sucked in a deep breath and looked around the pub. Nothing had changed. Still loud, rowdy and pissed.

  "I can't," I said a little shakily. Too much was at stake. "I have to get home," I added, moving to my feet.

  Eric stood as well, surprise briefly crossing his face. He hid it well, but I saw it before he replaced the expression with a neutral one instead.

  "Look," he said. "Just think about it. Here's my card."

  He pulled a business card out of his pocket and then bent down to the table to write an address on the back. Standing upright, he held the card out for me to take. I paused, licked my lips and then snatched the card up, flipping it over to see what he had written on the back.

  Sweet Seduction on High Street. That was it. What the fuck?

  I frowned up at him.

  "It's a café," he explained, still not making any sense. "If you need me, but can't phone or get in touch safely, then go there. Harding will think you stumbled on the place by accident, but you can be damn sure he won't follow you inside."

  "Why not?" I asked reflexively.

  "Because it's linked to ASI." Then when he saw my frown deepen, he added, "Anscombe Securities and Investigations. Who I work for."

  "And Jaxon knows your firm?"

  He nodded. I immediately handed the card back.