A Kiss of Revenge (Entangled Ignite) (8 page)

She winced at the choice of words. He started describing the equipment and filming process. So was this porn or prostitution? Or both? Or…God help her…snuff films?

“Um, who’s, like, directing?” she asked, trying to appear naïve and trusting.

“The tr— other talent dictates what you do. It’s for a series of videos,” he added when she frowned. “Something like ‘Your Favorite Fantasy,’ I don’t know. But the guy chooses what you wear, what you say, and usually tells you what to do during the shoot.”

So porn, but that still didn’t fit with everything she heard. “Like a reality show?” she asked, just to keep him talking.

“Ha!” He shouted the laugh. “Yeah, sure, something like that.”

“Come back tomorrow night,” Skav said from behind her. She hadn’t heard him come up the stairs and cursed her inattention. “Nine o’clock. We’ll have everything ready. Then we want you every night after that. Contract states a week, but we might want you for a bonus.” He waggled his eyebrows, and her stomach turned at the implication that he meant himself. Or all three of them. She told herself she wouldn’t be here long enough for the “bonus,” but that didn’t help any of the other girls they no doubt used for whatever this really was. It had to be stopped, but she had to figure out a way to do so without incriminating herself.

None of the guys walked her downstairs, and it felt weird to have gone to all that trouble to get inside, then try to escape, and now be able to walk out unchallenged. She hesitated on the front walk, seeing no cars or a side gate or anything leading to a different way in. She’d better not push her luck—she headed straight out the front and hoped they didn’t spot her and question it.

Her adrenaline had been rushing since she’d first heard tires on gravel, and as soon as she got outside the gate to safety, she crashed. Weak knees, blurred vision, cold sweat. She staggered to the street lamp and grabbed on to hold herself upright. Fear faded, replaced by excitement. She’d done it! She’d infiltrated the enemy stronghold. In less than twenty-four hours, if things went right, she’d know who he was and where to find him. If she could also collect some evidence of what they were doing with the women they filmed, maybe she wouldn’t have to go after him herself.

She wasn’t sure that would be enough, though. Confronting him, getting answers to what he and Brian had been doing, why he’d tried to kill them, drove her as much as getting out from under his cloud. She wanted him to see her, watch her as his world fell apart—or his life drained out of him—and know she was responsible and why.

What was going on in that house would be his downfall, for sure.

But
she
would be his demise.

…

Reese was seriously dragging by the time she got back to her house. Her eyelids didn’t want to go above half-mast, and her brain was barely conscious of her movements. So while part of her was aware that the porch light was no longer on and that, as tired as she was, she should have been humming with electricity and wasn’t, she didn’t have the wherewithal to interpret it. When she aimed her key at the front door lock and the door opened, she didn’t react in time to avoid the hand grabbing her arm. It yanked her inside, slamming the door behind her.

She stumbled in the dark but adrenaline came surging back.
Fight or flight?

Fight
, she decided. She could vaguely see a darker shape against the far wall, moving to her right, so she moved to her left. When she reached out, seeking electricity to use as a weapon, she realized there was no current moving through the house. The intruder had shut off the power, probably at the breaker box in the kitchen. That frightened her even more.

Who’d learned her secret?

Her body was still obeying her command to seek power, and she detected a hint of it. Not household current, something weaker, but still electricity she could use. On her intruder, a flashing green light. His cell phone. Instantly she focused on it, sucking the power away.

“Hey! Reese, stop!”

Too late
. She recognized Griffin’s voice at the same instant she focused the electricity as tightly as she could and forced it at him. He dodged but not fast enough, and it struck him in the chest, near his right shoulder. She heard a crash and things falling off the table he knocked over, then a
thud
as he hit the floor.

She rushed to the kitchen, cursing all the way, and yanked open the circuit panel door to reset the main breaker. Lights flashed on, the refrigerator hummed to life, and the familiar noise of a modern house surrounded her, momentarily reassuring.

But only momentarily. She rushed back to Griff, praying the energy had been small enough and his fall not as hard as it sounded. She heaved a sigh of relief when she found him conscious, though still sprawled on the floor.

“God, Griff, I’m so sorry.” She crouched next to him. “How badly did I hurt you?”
This time
.

He groaned and tried to sit up. “I’m okay. It was like being hit with a bat.” He probed the hollow of his right shoulder with his left hand and winced.

“Can you feel your arm?” She helped him ease upright and lean against the wall.

“It’s tingling.” He tilted his head back against the wall and didn’t talk for a moment, then his fingers flexed. He made a fist then spread the fingers. “The feeling’s coming back.” He slowly raised the arm and stretched it, then bent it in and shook it. Finally, he looked at her, a hint of awe in his eyes.

“You did that on purpose.”

She cringed. “I didn’t hurt you on purpose.”

“You know what I mean. You’ve come a long way in a few months.”

He hadn’t seen her use the electricity deliberately since her initial attempts to gain control. The other day didn’t count. “I guess.” She plopped down next to him and mimicked his pose. “What the hell were you doing, anyway? Why did you turn the electricity off?”

“Because I was in your house and didn’t want to frighten you into blasting me.”

“I’m really, really sorry,” she said miserably. “I can’t believe you barely recovered from my last strike and I hit you again.” She twisted to look at him more closely. The burned skin on his lips must have sloughed off because they were a healthy pink and super soft looking. His color was good, and his eyes clear and alert. And amused.

She smirked back. “So you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. No ill effects.”

“So what are you doing here?”

He sighed and dragged a hand down his face, suddenly appearing much more tired and resigned than he had a moment ago. “I wasn’t going to come back. You have the surgery thing and I made a mistake the other day, put too much pressure on you.”

She made a noise of protest, but he shook his head and put up his hand. “We’re not talking about that. I couldn’t stop thinking about the stupid ‘Alpine house’ and that you were going to do something stupid.”

Uh-oh
. “And you came to try to stop me?”

He raised his eyebrows.

She cleared her throat. “It might be too late.”

He groaned and dropped his head against the wall. “Tell me what you did.”

She summarized her activities for him. When she got to the part about the window, Griff lifted her hand from where it rested on the floor between them. His fingers brushed lightly over the torn flesh where the top layer of skin was scraped away between her knuckles. They were starting to bruise. “Reese.”

“Little boo-boos. I’m fine.”

He looked at them more closely, apparently decided they could wait, and went back to the original topic. “What did you find?”

“It’s horrible.” She told him about the filming and the unsuspecting young woman coming tomorrow, and outlined her plan to put a stop to everything.

“
Hell
, no!” He was on his feet before she finished speaking. “The fact that you want to go film a porn flick is bad enough, but if you’re right about what they do afterward—”

“I don’t want to go film a porn flick,” she scoffed, rising to face him. “I want to go
pretend
to want to film a porn flick so I can figure out what’s happening up there, and who and where Big K is. It’s more important than ever that I do this.”

He glowered at her, and she could practically see his thought processes. Other people were being hurt, and he’d hate that, but he didn’t want her risking herself, physically or legally.

“I’ll be okay,” she assured him, stepping closer to him and taking his hand. The muscle in his jaw pulsed, but he wove his fingers between hers and held on. Warmth seeped into her. “I won’t let it get too far. I
need
Big K, Griff.”

“And what are you going to do when you find him?” he asked in a much calmer, but more intense, voice. “The police aren’t going to do anything. They have no evidence, and you won’t either. You can’t kill him.”

He said it with such conviction that Reese didn’t contradict him. No sense shredding his illusions. “I’ll deal with that when the time comes. But now, there’s this. For the first time, I’m glad for this electricity thing.”

It took an hour, but she convinced him.

Chapter Five

By the time Reese went to bed, she was too tired to think of Griff sleeping across the hallway or about the way they’d glossed over the kiss and everything that came after it. She left early for the bakery the next morning, avoiding awkwardness for a couple more hours. The familiar routine of stocking the baked-goods case and making coffee helped settle her for what would come next.

“Who had the half-caff nonfat latte?” she called to the jostling customers in front of the bakery case. A lock of hair fell over her eyes and she blew it back.

Kimmie pushed up to the counter, beaming. “Me! How could you forget?”

Reese smiled and handed it over. “Sorry.” She took a box of muffins Sarah slid over and passed them to a patiently waiting customer. “What are you so excited about?” she asked Kimmie while she rang up the next coffee order.

“I have an acting job! It starts tonight!” The young woman bounced, clutching her cup.

“That’s great! Good luck!” Reese passed out empty cups to a group of businesspeople. They trudged over for self-service on the other side of the room, and the line thinned out.

“You seem distracted, dear.” Mimsie Wallace leaned on her cane and set her usual bag of day-olds on the counter. Her faded blue eyes twinkled. “Might we hazard a guess as to the reason?”

“What?” Reese frowned, not following her until she gave a combination head-toss and eye-roll toward the line behind her. Reese looked where she’d indicated and spotted Andrew halfway back, typing something on his phone. Alarmed, she dropped her gaze before he caught her looking and zeroed in on the conversation.

Then she played dumb with Mimsie. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, dear, if I had a hunk like that trying to curry my favor, I’d probably ring up the wrong price, too.”

Reese stared at her.

“It’s only three-ninety-five, dear, not four.” Mimsie pointed to the total displayed on the screen.

Reese followed her finger, which brought Griff into her line of sight. Oh,
that
hunk. He’d somehow gotten his hands on a damp rag and was wiping down a table by the window, a pile of trash in his other hand. How long had he been here? He leaned over to pick up a crumpled napkin, and her mouth went dry. He had a really fantastic ass.

Mimsie cleared her throat. Reese snapped her attention back to the day-olds. “There are three more bagels in that bag than usual, Mim. So it’s four-ninety-five today. Sorry.”

The woman sighed and handed over a five-dollar bill. “It never ends, inflation.”

Reese laughed. “I’ll make sure to have a smaller bag for you tomorrow. You have a good day.”

She continued serving customers, but now her attention was half on Griff puttering around the dining area, cleaning tables, sorting sweetener packets, and chatting with the customers, many of whom hung around longer than usual.

And then Andrew reached the counter. He glanced up from his phone. “The usual,” he said. “Whatever muffin you have.” He hit the green button on the screen and tucked the phone away, pulling out his billfold.

The crowd had thinned, so when Griff laughed and answered someone’s question, his voice clearly reached the front. Andrew froze, money in hand. His inquiring gaze speared Reese. She swallowed, knowing he’d recognized Griff’s voice as belonging to the guy behind the curtain at the hospital the other day.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Griff stiffen. A moment later, he joined her behind the counter.

“Morning, Chief,” he said.

“Morning.” Andrew handed over his money. “I didn’t realize Reese had hired help,” he said.

Griff filled a ceramic mug with the blend of the day and set a muffin on a plate. “She’s not paying me. I’m a friend.” The emphasis on the last word and the look that accompanied it got the message across. Reese’s cheeks flamed, but neither man looked at her.

“Glad to hear it.” Andrew took his change and went to his regular table, making a show of peeling the wrapper off his muffin.

“What the hell was that?” Reese hissed to Griff, pushing him behind the high glass case for an illusion of privacy.

“What?” Griff raised his hands defensively but kept his voice low. “I was letting him know we’re friends. He was at the hospital, right? Overheard us?”

She ground her teeth. “You sounded like you were warning him off. Now he’s going to think I lied to him about Brian and wonder why. Which means he’ll look at me harder.”

Griff stood, his expression neutral, gaze steady, and she realized that was exactly what he wanted. Furious, she snatched a roll of paper towels and stomped off to spot-check the bathrooms for cleanliness.

So he thought she’d change her mind about tonight if she thought Andrew was watching her, did he?
Damn
him for making things more difficult. She didn’t care if Andrew was suspicious of her, as long as she never gave him reason to act on that suspicion. But part of convincing Griff to let her go into the Alpine house tonight was letting him help her do it. That put him in the spotlight, too, and he knew she wouldn’t risk him or his firm.

She kicked her way around the ladies’ room, making more work for herself but glad to have reason to burn off her anger in here, away from Griff and Andrew and the other prying eyes of Crestview. Once she was done cleaning, she splashed her face and dried it with a paper towel.

Okay. She took a deep breath and coached herself silently in the mirror. Andrew had to be gone by now. She’d act like Griff had done nothing wrong and proceed with their plan. The precautions they’d already discussed would suffice even if Andrew was somehow out patrolling specifically for her. Short of tying her up in her bedroom, Griff couldn’t stop her.

Tying me up…
She closed her eyes, lost in an immediate image of naked flesh, silk scarves, and heated moans. When her body tingled in a very non-electric way she snapped her eyes open again, a little shocked at herself. Was one kiss enough to awaken such carnal fantasies?

Apparently
.

She splashed her face again before heading back out to the counter.

When she said nothing more to Griff about what he’d done, he didn’t bring it up, either. They took turns covering the counter and the dining room, and the lunch rush was almost busy enough for her to forget he was there. Almost.

During a lull, he set up his laptop in a corner and said he was going to look up the names she’d overheard in the Alpine house the night before. She gave him half an hour before her patience ran out.

“Anything?” She stood behind him to read the screen.

He shook his head. “ ’Skav’ is probably short for his last name, and we don’t know if it’s spelled with a C or a K. Nothing popped on that. ‘Bark’ is pretty distinctive, but if it’s his first name, he doesn’t have a record. If it’s a nickname, I can’t find anything referencing it.” He entered something into a search box so quickly she didn’t have time to lean closer to read it. The spinny circle hovered in the middle of the mostly blank screen.

“Maybe it’s short for ‘Barker’?”

He nodded and folded his arms, watching the computer working. “We get lots of hits for that. Same if we assume ‘Dob’ is short for ‘Dobson.’ I’m working on narrowing it down.”

“You’d think these kinds of guys would have records, right?”

Another shrug. A page of results appeared on the laptop, and he leaned forward to read them as he scrolled. “Probability’s not low, but it’s not impossible that they’ve never been caught yet.”

She shouldn’t be so frustrated, because she hadn’t even thought of having him run the names. She’d assumed they were all nicknames, insufficient for him to find anything. “Don’t you have other resources? Like, cops who know stuff that’s not in the databases? Nicknames. Habits.”

Griff twisted sideways to look up at her, amused. “You want I should call the chief and ask him what he knows about these guys?”

She flushed, feeling stupid. Of course he couldn’t talk to Andrew about her case. He’d immediately make the connection to the break-ins, and maybe more. “Well, what about Boston? You have a branch there. You work with law enforcement and the justice system. What—”

But he was shaking his head. “I sent a couple of e-mails, but don’t get your hopes up. Cops know their own jurisdictions, so unless these three are confidential informants for someone or operate on a higher level in the big city, the pool we’re diving for grapes in is just way too big.”

She made a face at his analogy. “Your job really sucks, doesn’t it? Boring and frustrating. How do you stand it?”

He just chuckled and went back to scanning the results.

Reese kept working, grateful for the small groups and singles who trickled in and gave her something else to think about. But the clock ticked steadfastly toward closing time, when she wished it would race. At two o’clock they hit the dead hour, and she started pulling leftovers from the case to wrap for tomorrow’s day-olds. The afternoon loomed ahead of her.

Griff stretched, his back popping audibly. “Come here a sec. I want you to look at some photos.”

Excited, she hurried over and dragged a chair around next to him. “For Dob? Or Bark?”

“Both. I flagged a few guys.” He didn’t sound optimistic, and sure enough, when he pulled each one up, she repeatedly shook her head. None even bore enough similarity to make her consider for a moment. Too old, too young, too skinny, too fat, too black, or too stoned—Griff got tenser and more annoyed with each flip of the page, and Reese tried not to let his lack of success drag her down.

“Oh, well, you tried, and it was billable time.” She rose and rubbed her hands on her jeans. “I won’t even make you subtract all the coffee from my invoice.”

While Griff packed up the laptop, she went back to putting away pastries. He came over to snatch a mini Danish from the spare tray and leaned next to her, chewing the whole thing in one bite. “Can you close up soon?”

Man, he smelled good. Rich and edible, more enticing than she could remember any other man ever smelling. She hadn’t realized how much it had sunk into her while they looked at mug shots until she walked away. Having him standing close again was like getting a hit after a very brief withdrawal.

“Yeah, as soon as I’m done cleaning up. Why?” She rinsed the coffee pots, making a note to scrub them with ice, lemon, and salt soon. He took them as she finished and slid them onto the now-cold burners.

“I thought you’d like to go riding.”

Every muscle from her scalp to her lower back released, letting her grin. “Oh, yeah.” She hadn’t been on a horse in weeks, and suddenly it was exactly what she needed. “I’ll hurry.” She quickly cleaned the espresso machine while he wiped out the display cases. They’d kept up the dining area as they went, and Sarah had taken care of the kitchen after she’d finished the morning’s baking.

“Let’s leave that for tomorrow,” Reese told him when he came out of the cleaning closet with a broom. “The floor’s not that bad—I’ll do it before we open.” She was dying to get out to the stables a couple of miles outside town, and was chagrined that he’d been the one to think of it. Every time she used someone else’s horse, she regretted selling Erik’s farm and leaving his horses behind. Of all the hobbies she’d picked up from her husbands, riding gave her the most pleasure. Made her feel the most free.

She’d liked it so much it had annoyed Chris, her third husband. He’d placed out of the medals in Olympic downhill skiing and had been running a ski patrol in Colorado when she met him. He wanted her to ski with him in the winter and mountain climb in the summer, but she had never felt the exhilaration he did. Choosing riding instead had been liberating, and now it was fully her own.

Rick Milloy, owner of Milloy’s Riding Center, was always happy to let her exercise some of the less-requested horses. She’d found a kindred spirit in him, though he was nearly forty years her senior.

He walked over to the car as soon as they pulled into the yard. “Been a while, Reese. How are ya?”

She introduced him to Griffin. “Is Hacker available?” He was her favorite horse, as he responded more to leg pressure than rein commands.

“Sure is.” Rick gauged the length of Griffin’s legs and the way he walked as they headed toward the stable. “I’m thinking Teacher’s Pet would be good for your friend.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” she agreed. Rick got the horses out while she collected the grooming kits and tack, and she and Griff groomed the horses in silence, relaxed and content for a few minutes. Dust motes danced in the stream of sunlight coming in the near end of the stable. Hacker drowsed, shifting his feet and lifting each one Reese touched, allowing her to pick his hooves without a fight. Every so often Griff crooned to Teacher’s Pet. Reese closed her eyes and leaned her head against the horse’s side. This felt like what her life should be. Not sneaking around and breaking the law, and hearts, and being heartbroken, and letting herself be full of anger and hate all the time.

When it was all over, she decided, she’d come back to this, if she could. Maybe not this exactly, right here, but this kind of life.

Rick re-entered the stables and checked the bit she had just put in Hacker’s mouth. “I had the kid set up your targets.” He was referring to the teenager who mucked the stables. He tightened the cinch and patted the horse’s flank. “You’re good to go.”

“Great, thank you.” She kissed the old man on the cheek and smiled at his blush, then led the horse outside while Rick gave Griff instructions he didn’t need. Her bow and quiver rested against the barn’s outer wall, and she slung them over her shoulder before walking the horse to the paddock.

Once she was out of the stable yard and through the gate, she checked the cinch again and mounted. She heard Griff and Teacher’s Pet behind her and kicked her heels. They’d catch up. She had riding to do. Hacker took off, fresh and eager, and Reese let out a whoop.

Milloy’s had a wooded trail and a training ring, but her favorite was a broad, grassy area that rolled in gentle hills on one end and spread flat and clear on the other. She cantered around the flat end, then up and over the near hill and down, then up the next, higher hill. Griffin had entered the field and closed the gate, and she paused to watch him trot across the grass. He rode with grace and ease, and the horse under him recognized the rider’s skill, prancing a little as if to test him, or maybe share its excitement at being out.