In Jack's Arms (Fighting Connollys) (7 page)

me lo—care for you so much."

At the very last possible instant, he caught himself before blundering into a full accounting of just how

much she meant to him. The way Abby made him feel couldn't be denied. When she was near, his heart

raced, his palms tingled and his body thrummed with such excitement. One smile from her, and he felt as if he could slay dragons.

But it was too soon and too new to tell her all that. He had only just worked up the courage to kiss her.

She needed time to get used to their friendship changing from
just friends
to
us
before he confessed that he had been pining over her for years. And that's where it was heading. Just as Kelly had started making plans for his future with Bee, Jack had hopes for a bright, happy future with Abby.

Come hell or high water, Jack intended to keep her right where she was—safe in his arms.

Chapter Four

"Abby?"

"Yep?" I glanced up from my paperwork to find Marley, one of my part-time pawn brokers, leaning

against the door frame of my office. The women's studies student was one of my hardest workers and had

been here since she was in high school. She was one of those employees I could count on without question,

and I absolutely adored her.

"Mr. Beciraj is here." She pronounced his name with a full Texas twang—
beecher-eye
—and put emphasis on all the wrong syllables. "He says he'd like to speak with you."

I set aside my insurance forms and followed Marley back to the sales floor. I spotted Besian loitering

near the jewelry counter but didn't immediately join him. A customer hassling another broker in the luxury goods section caught my eye.

Sizing up the woman, I made my way behind the counter. Though her designer clothing and shoes

screamed money, the way she clutched the fur coat with fingers decked out in expensive gold and platinum

betrayed her desperation. There was bound to be quite a story to this one.

Catching Mark's gaze, I smiled and slid into the transaction. I held out my hand and greeted the woman.

"Hi, I'm Abby Kirkwood, the owner of the shop. Is there something I can do to help you?"

Not making a move to shake my hand or remove her tortoiseshell sunglasses, she blew out an annoyed

breath. Her lips hardly twitched, and there was very little movement to her cheeks. Apparently, she was

quite a fan of her plastic surgeon. "He's saying that I can't pawn this coat, but it's chinchilla. Surely, you understand what that means."

I didn't let her testy tone bother me. People with money problems weren't really pissed at me. They were

pissed at themselves. "It is a gorgeous coat." I ran my fingers along the fur, taking in the silvery, silky guard hair and thick underfur. "Unfortunately, we don't sell very many of these."

"But it's chinchilla," she said, seemingly stuck on the fact that it was one of the finest, rarest furs on the market. "It's worth thousands of dollars."

"Easily," I agreed. "The problem, ma'am, is that it's almost July. In Texas," I added. "It was nearly ninety degrees when I stepped out front door this morning. No one is buying fur coats right now."

Instead of lashing out as I had expected, the woman crumpled right in front of me. She pushed her

sunglasses to the crown of her head, the dark shade of them contrasting starkly with her white-blonde hair.

Her red-rimmed eyes were slightly puffy from crying.

"Please," she said finally. "My housekeeper said you're the fairest shop in Houston. I need help. My husband's company is being investigated. They've tied up our assets, and now everyone is suing us. My

husband is sick—and they just canceled our insurance. I need cash. Fast."

I studied her face for a long moment. Some people came in here with fake sob stories to try to get one

over on the shop, but I could tell this woman was at the end of her rope. One good tug, and she was going

to tumble over the edge.

Deciding to help her, I put it out there in black and white. "I won't buy the coat, but I know a lady who runs a luxury goods boutique. She has an online component to her business so she's more likely to take a

chance on something like this." I snatched one of our cards from the holder on the counter and tugged free the pen I kept tucked behind my ear at work. "Here's her information. Tell her I sent you. She'll treat you right."

The woman accepted the card. "Thank you."

Looking at her jewelry, I said, "If you want, I can appraise the rings and bracelets you're wearing today and offer you a fair price. We can pawn or sell."

She considered her hands with an almost mercenary glint. Piece by piece, she peeled off the ones she

was willing to part with and said, "I'd be willing to sell these."

I took my time appraising the small cache. Everything was top quality and much loved considering the

careful care that had been taken of them. Because it was such a large amount of money, I wrote the number

on a notepad and slipped it across the counter to her. Poker face in place, the woman stared at it without showing an ounce of emotion. Finally, she nodded. "I'll take it."

"Fantastic." I handed off the items and the slip of paper to Mark. "My associate here will write this up and get you situated." I glanced at him. "Make sure we have one of our security guys walk her out to her car."

"Will do, boss."

"It was a pleasure doing business with you." I extended my hand and this time she shook it.

"Thank you."

The situation resolved, I joined Besian who now leaned back against the jewelry counter and watched

the bustling store. I noticed his gaze seemed zeroed in on the electronics department. My lips thinned with displeasure when I realized he wasn't staring at the televisions and game systems. No, his intense stare was fixed on Marley.

"You in the market for a new PSP?"

Besian slowly averted his gaze and smiled at me. Tall and lean like Jack, he had dark hair and even

darker eyes, the irises nearly as black as his pupils. A long, thin scar bisected his left cheek. A matching scar followed the curve of his throat. I had always wanted to ask him how he had gotten those but didn't dare. I had a feeling it was a story I didn't want to hear.

Though he had only shown me kindness in all the many years he had been a fixture in my life, I held no

illusions about him. Besian was one of the most dangerous and powerful men in Houston, second only to

reputed mob boss Nikolai Kalasnikov. Considering the way that Russian had made a fortune with his many

business interests, I wondered if the real hierarchy was a bit different these days. Nikolai might be the most powerful but Besian was probably the most dangerous. With a snap of this fingers, he could cause serious

pain and trouble for me.

"No, but I see something that would be far more entertaining."

"Don't even think about it."

He seemed amused by my presumption to tell him what to do. "She's an adult. I'm sure we could have

fun together."

"She's one of my girls, and—"

"One of your girls, huh? Careful," he said with a sardonic laugh. "You're starting to sound like me."

My lips pursed. "Your girls are strippers—"

"Entertainers," he cut in smoothly.

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean. My girls at the shop are good girls who work hard, go to

school and want to build successful lives. They're not doing nasty stuff on a stage to milk some poor loser for a couple of bucks."

"That's not very feminist of you." He had a teasing smile playing upon his mouth. "My girls are hard workers. Many of them are also university students. They're all trying to get into better situations. What you see as a degradation, they see as an opportunity."

Neatly put in my place, I wondered at this defensive side to the Albanian gangster. "So what? You're a champion of women's rights now?"

"I'm a lot of things, sweetheart. If you had taken me up on my invitations for dinner, you would know that."

I pinned him in place with a look. "Not happening."

He held up a hand. "Don't worry. I've heard that you're Jack Connolly's girl now."

A thrill zinged through me at the way he described me as Jack's girl. Last night, after all the fuss had

died down, we had slid into bed together. True to his gentlemanly nature, Jack hadn't tried to make even the tiniest move. Other than a sweet and tender good night kiss, nothing else had happened between us. Yet,

somehow sleeping so tightly wrapped up in his arms felt more intimate than anything I had ever shared

with another man.

Considering how tight-lipped I was about my personal life, I asked, "Do I even want to know where

you heard that?"

He shrugged, the fabric of his stone-colored suit jacket stretching easily along his shoulders. Like the

woman who had just hocked her jewelry, Besian dressed in exquisitely tailored suits from the best

designers. How he afforded that type of wardrobe was another discussion altogether. "When I heard about the robbery, I decided to keep an eye on you. I was told that Jack stayed at your house last night."

I was straight-up irked by the thought of a bunch of gangsters following me. "I don't need you and your guys creeping around my place, Besian."

"Not even after that brick went through your front window?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You know who it was, don't you?"

"Of course, I know. I know everything that goes on in this town."

I waited for him to give me the names of the punks who had vandalized my house. When he didn't

volunteer the information, I held out my hands. "Well?"

"Well what?" he asked in that maddeningly calm and cool way.

"Are you going to tell me who it was?"

"You know who it was." He threw up the gang sign of the 1-8-7 crew, and I noticed the fresh scrapes and bruises on his knuckles. As if noticing my stare, he nodded. "It's been taken care of, Abby. You won't have problems like that again."

"Just like that, huh?"

"Consider it a favor."

"I'm not sure you're the sort of man I want to owe a favor."

To his credit, he didn't take offense. Instead, he cracked a smile. "That's because you're a smart

woman." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed my concerns. "It's about protecting
my
business interests. I can't have that crew running wild in my backyard. They have to learn to behave themselves—or else."

It was the
or else
part that scared me. Besian wasn't the type of guy who would give someone a stern lecture. He was the type of guy who broke knees…or worse.

"Listen," he stepped closer, close enough that I caught sight of the thin gold chain just barely peeking out from the unbuttoned top of his dress shirt, "I don't like getting involved in other people's business—"

I couldn't help myself. I actually chortled. "Yeah. Sure you don't."

"Ha-ha," he said drily. "What I was trying to say before you interrupted me is that you need to take a closer look at your night manager Dan."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Let's just say that he isn't as squeaky clean as he would like you to believe."

"Bull," I replied forcefully. "That guy has been here forever. He and I don't always see eye-to-eye, but he's a good man."

"I'm sure he is, but that son of his?"

I didn't know much about Leonard. "He's working on a pharmacy degree. From what I know he's a

good student."

Besian's expression turned unreadable. "You should ask Dan about Flea."

The mention of our resident crackhead concerned me. "Flea hasn't been allowed to come on the

premises since he tried to sell me that leaf blower and weed eater he stole straight off a landscaping job happening down the street. The damned thing was literally hot when it landed on my counter!"

Besian quirked a smile at my description of that run-in. "He's not allowed on the premises when you're here, but what about at night when Dan is in charge?"

I shook my head. "I check the security tapes every morning. There are two security guys on the night

shift. They would tell me if Flea was hanging around this place."

"Hey," Besian said with a light bounce of his shoulders, "it's your business. I thought you might appreciate a heads-up, especially after that break-in."

Signaling an end to our unsettling conversation, he pushed up his cuff and peered at his watch. Unable

to help myself, I mentally appraised the luxury timepiece with the rose gold accents and brown crocodile

strap. He must have seen my interested gaze because he just chuckled and said, "Sorry, but forty percent of retail is a bit too steep of a discount for me."

"Never say never," I said, thinking of the high-end clients who snuck in here late at night to pawn their family heirlooms just to make the lease payments on their Mercedes or the mortgages on their six bedroom

mansions in Royal Oaks.

"Truer words, huh?" Smiling, he backed away and started toward the door. "Tell Jack I said hi."

That was absolutely the last thing I was going to do. Though neither side had confirmed the rumors to

me, I had heard all about that scrape between Nick Connolly, Besian and John Hagen a few weeks earlier.

The bruises covering Kelly's battered body had told me all I need to know.

On his way out the door, Besian made a point of catching Marley's gaze. To her credit, she simply

frowned at him and got back to work. He didn't seem the least bit deterred and that worried me. The last

thing that girl needed was a man like Besian Beciraj sniffing around and wreaking havoc with her carefully laid plans. With a biological dad locked up in the pen and a stepdad who was the vice president of an

outlaw motorcycle crew, she had more than enough man trouble in her life.

Ignoring the mobster's interest, she turned her attention to the notepad and game system in front of her.

Something about her perplexed expression left me uneasy. I crossed the store and joined her behind the