Parker’s Price (13 page)

Dean pulled her to her feet, catching her against him when she swayed. “Come on. We’re calling it an early night.”

“I should be the one taking care of you,” she said, even as she clutched tightly at his sides.

“I did say you could be on top tonight.”

Her lips twitched unexpectedly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Are you going back on your word?” he murmured. A hand skimmed down her back, settled at the hollow just above the curve of her buttocks.

She inched closer to him. “I didn’t promise anything.”

“It was a tacit agreement.”

Of their own accord, her hands fisted in his shirt and started pulling it free of his pants. He took that as another tacit agreement and led her into his bedroom. Overtaken by the sudden need to inspect every part of him and reassure herself he really was fine, Parker tore at his clothes in between deep, hard, open-mouthed kisses. When they were finally naked, Dean tossed her on the bed, pulled on a condom and followed her down, crushing her under his weight. His penetration was hard and rough and deep, and she rose to meet it.

There was the immediate tidal wave of relief of having him inside her, of reassurance in this most primal method. His mouth found hers and their tongues tangled. He pulled out, thrust back in and repeated the cycle, driving her deep into the bed each time. Then he crushed her to him, seeming to squeeze the air from her lungs, and rolled, taking her with him.

For a heartbeat, she didn’t understand the change in position or why he stopped. His hands clamped onto her hips and he thrust up. Parker made an inarticulate sound and pushed herself up, bracing her hands on his rigid abdomen muscles. She rolled her hips and moaned when pleasure pulsed through her. She rose, using her knees, and sank back down. Dean groaned and ran his hands over her sleek curves.

As she rode him, her head fell forward and, within the intimate confines of the curtains of her hair, he managed to snag her gaze and hold it. As she stared into those dark, glittering eyes that wouldn’t let her go, something inside her cracked. The fissure grew, spreading in all directions like a spider’s web. Searing heat trailed down her cheeks. Then the wall broke, shattering into too many pieces and a hot well of emotion swelled in her chest, threatening to burst through.

Her world dipped and spun and she found herself staring up at Dean.

“Baby, don’t cry,” he murmured, kissing away her tears. “Did I hurt you?”

Unable to speak with tears clogging her throat, Parker shook her head and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper inside her. He groaned, took the hint and started thrusting again, moving in and out, slow and deep. But it wasn’t long before it wasn’t enough and his pace increased, faster, harder.

Dean reached down between their joined bodies and stroked her clitoris. A cry of rapture tore from her throat and her body shook as a rush of unbearable sensation crashed over her. With a harsh, guttural sound of completion, Dean followed her.

At just a few minutes after eleven the next morning, Dean disconnected the call with Detective Wade, called Gordon and asked him to be in front of the office building in ten minutes. He needed to see Parker. Perhaps he was overreacting, but he couldn’t dismiss the distance that had sprang between them this morning and didn’t want to wait until after work to address it. He needed to see her now and find out why she’d barely spoken two words to him since they woke up.

He exited his office, waved to his administrative assistant who was saying, “No comment,” to someone—most likely another reporter—on the telephone, and mouthed,
Cancel my meetings.

The Maybach neared Parker’s office building and slowed to a halt because a traffic accident blocked the street up ahead. Dean frowned at the scene, annoyed at the delay. He glanced at the mirrored high-rise that housed Parker’s magazine’s offices. It was only a block and a half away. There was a steady stream of people entering and exiting the building. He was keeping an eye out for Parker, just in case she decided to leave the building for an early lunch.

A woman entering the building caught his eye. Hair as dark and straight as Parker’s, but too tall to be her. However, something about the way the woman moved triggered a memory.

He reached for the door handle. “Gordon, I’ll get out here.”

It was over. The NYPD called her at the office and informed her Tyler Moore was in police custody and facing a handful of charges, including attempted murder. They’d found the Ducati, dented and scraped, in the parking garage and it had been enough to arrest him.

Her movements slow, Parker returned the telephone receiver to its cradle and wondered why she wasn’t feeling more relieved at the undoubtedly good news. No, that was a lie. She wasn’t wondering why. She already knew. She no longer had an excuse to stay with Dean.

Her heart pounded, almost painful. Despite her own personal revelation last night, she didn’t know if his feelings went beyond lust and a protectiveness for those weaker than him. She was in new territory and it terrified her. Deidre had been right. She had called the shots in her previous relationships, had kept things shallow. It made it easier to walk away.

Parker slumped back into her chair and squeezed her eyes shut.

She could take the straightforward approach and ask him, but if Dean didn’t return her feelings or, worse, pitied her, that would be the end for them. It would be too awkward, too painful, to continue the affair. And she wanted more time with him, more memories, even if he walked away from her later on.

There was a knock on her door, jerking Parker out of her borderline self-pitying ruminations. She sat up and brushed her fingers under her eyes. Satisfied they were dry, she called out, “Come in.”

The door opened and Owen appeared. “I have Renata Tariko out here. She doesn’t have an appointment, so I told her you might be busy.”

The name rang a bell, but she couldn’t put a face to it. “I have a few minutes now. You can send her in.”

Her administrative assistant’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

She waved away the concern. “I’m fine. Not enough sleep last night.”

That wasn’t a complete lie. Dean had only reached for her once more in the middle of the night, but she’d woken up early and watched him sleep until the alarm went off.

Obviously giving her answer his own spin, Owen grinned, then backed out. Parker rose to her feet as a woman with black hair, dressed in a knitted, black sheath, and carrying a matching clutch entered. Parker met her eyes. Shock froze her momentarily. It was the model Tyler had bought at the auction, only her hair had gone from platinum blond to as dark as Parker’s. Parker didn’t know what to say. She heard the door close. Did the other woman want privacy because she wanted to talk about Tyler and his current status as a guest of the NYPD?

“Parker Quinn.” The voice was slightly accented, like a Russian spy in a Bond movie. That accent combined with the stunning face and killer body had probably made Tyler think he’d died and gone to the Playboy mansion. So why had that idiot continued to be obsessed with her?

“Would you care to sit down?”

Renata Tariko remained standing and stared at her, wintry blue eyes moving over Parker insultingly, from her head to her feet. Parker felt the sudden urge to put obstacles—large, impenetrable ones—between herself and her unexpected guest.

“Ms. Tariko?”

“I don’t understand how he can want you, not when he has me.”

Parker’s pulse tripped, then quickened. “Maybe we can do this another time.”

“Why?” the other woman asked coolly. “I came to see what you have that I don’t have and I won’t be staying long.”

Parker glanced at the door, but Tyler’s lover stood between her and escape. She moistened her lips. “I don’t know why Tyler did what he did, but I didn’t encourage it. I’m sure any psychiatrist will tell you his obsession had nothing to do with love. The crimes he committed were to punish me, not about him wanting me back.”

Renata Tariko laughed, the sound rich and oddly chilling. “Oh, you think Tyler was the one who broke into your home.” An elegant hand reached into the clutch, pulled out a small, black gun and pointed it at Parker. “Stupid woman.”

Dean burst onto Parker’s floor and proceeded to her office with long, impatient strides that made people hurry out of his path. Owen saw him coming and got out of his seat. He hurried around his desk, as if he thought he needed to physically stop Dean.

“She’s not inside. You just missed her,” Owen explained hastily.

“How long?”

“Less than five minutes.”

Dean cursed. Two of the elevators had been out of service, so he’d been further delayed. But he’d been so close. How had he missed her?

“Where’d she go?”

“Lunch.”

“Did she go alone?”

Owen shook his head. “No, a woman stopped by and Parker left with her.”

“Tall, black hair, and short, black dress?”

Owen nodded and Dean cursed. Even as he’d been describing the woman, he remembered where he’d seen her: on the stairs of Moore’s girlfriend’s walk-up. She was the same woman Moore had bought at the auction. When he’d passed her on the stairs, he didn’t make the connection because her hair color had changed so dramatically.

“What’s this about?” asked Owen, beginning to look alarmed.

“Call building security an—”

He was cut off by the ring of his cell phone. He reached for it and glanced at the caller ID. His gut twisted. He flipped the cell phone open.

“We ran a check on Moore’s girlfriend, Renata Tariko,” Detective Wade told him. “She registered a .38 two years ago. The bullet we dug out of your building is a .38. We’re going to bring her in for questioning, but I wanted to warn you so you stay alert. I tried calling Ms. Quinn, but she’s not answering her office phone or her cell phone.”

Dean’s free hand fisted and he cursed. “Renata Tariko already has Parker,” he said, his jaw so tight he could barely move it. He gave the detective the building address and disconnected.

Owen angled the telephone receiver away from his ear and slapped his palm over the mouthpiece. “I have security on the line. What should I tell them?”

“To secure all exits and to find Parker. And when they do, use caution because the woman with her is possibly armed and dangerous.”

“All he does is talk about you. Parker this, Parker that. It was driving me insane!” said Renata, each rising word punctuated by the
clack, clack
of her heels on the linoleum tiles.

Tyler had driven her insane, too, but Parker refrained from mentioning it. Besides, she didn’t think the crazy woman with the gun would want to hear Parker’s and Tyler’s names in the same sentence.

“Why are you doing this?” Parker asked, already knowing the answer and wanting to stall. She couldn’t take the stairs too slowly. When she’d first tried that, the other woman had jabbed her between her shoulder blades with the gun, which was once more concealed inside the clutch. Parker had stumbled but managed to grab hold of the railing before she’d tumbled down the steps and very possibly broken her neck. She should be grateful the other woman had been too impatient to wait for one of the two still-functioning elevators. Otherwise, Renata could’ve already taken her to an unknown destination where witnesses would be scarce. At the current pace, she still had another good ten minutes to think of an escape plan.

“He wants you, thinks you’re special. He thinks you’re the only woman he can love. But I think with you dead, he will forget all about you.” She said it like it was so simple, so logical, and Parker supposed in her confused mind that it really was. She was going to kill Parker to free Tyler of his obsession. And had she tried to kill Dean because he’d struck Tyler?

“Why did you try to kill Dean?” asked Parker, keeping her tone low and even. “I’m the one you hate.”

“He hurt Tyler. And I don’t hate you. I just want Tyler to forget you.” She made an indecipherable sound. “I tried to be more like you.”

Hence the new hair color and black-on-black ensemble, Parker thought, shuddering a little.

“But it didn’t work. He…he…”

The footfalls behind Parker ceased. She tensed, not sure if she should keep going and risk Renata thinking she was going to make a run for it or stop and have Renata poke her with the gun again. In the end, she went down another step and waited, hand clutching the railing tightly. She turned her head a bit, as if to better hear Renata.

“He didn’t even say anything.” Renata’s voice lowered. “It was like he didn’t even notice.”

Parker turned enough to see Renata’s face and, for a moment, she forgot about the gun in the clutch and felt a pang of pity for the other woman. Tyler had wanted women to worship at his feet, had even considered it his God-given right because of his looks and money. Now that his fantasy was being fulfilled he seemed to be doing his best to drive her away. Feeling a spurt of anger, Parker added lack of intelligence to Tyler’s list of faults.

“He’s not worth what you’re doing for him,” Parker said, unable to stop herself from forming the words and voicing them out loud. “He’s not worth going to jail for.”

Renata’s eyes frosted over and her face, like her body, stiffened. “Pretending to be my friend will not help you. And I won’t be going to jail.”

Parker’s gaze flickered to the camera in the corner above Renata’s head. “Someone’s watching. If I go missing, the police will review the surveillance tapes and know I was last seen with you.”

“And I will tell them we went for lunch and, afterward, went our separate ways.” She shrugged. “Anything could’ve happened to you as you walked back to work. It happens all the time.” She gestured with her empty hand. “Keep m—”

A door slammed open overhead, the noise echoing loudly in the concrete stairwell. Renata turned to look up the stairwell. Parker turned and ran down the stairs, hand already outstretched for the fire door. She heard Renata shout something in Russian, curses from the vehemence in her tone. She reached the landing, wrapped her fingers around the doorknob—and felt Renata grab her hair and yank viciously. A sharp cry escaped Parker, the sound more from frustration than hurt. Using her entire weight, Renata body-checked Parker into the wall and jabbed the gun, which was no longer concealed by the clutch, into her side, digging in painfully.

Footsteps sounded, coming closer. So riddled with tension that her body nearly vibrated, Renata clenched Parker’s hair and swung them both around to face the intruder, keeping Parker in front of her like a shield. Parker felt the gun jab into the small of her back and winced.

Long, trouser-clad legs came into view, started to round the corner.

“Stop!” Renata yelled, her trembling voice more desperate than authoritative. “Go back!”

The male legs kept coming and Parker found herself looking up into Dean’s blazing blue eyes. She sucked in an audible breath as relief and fear warred within her. He stopped three steps up from the landing. Parker’s stomach twisted. Oh, God. Renata had tried to kill him once and failed, and now the blasted man was all but serving himself up on a silver platter.

“Let Parker go, Renata,” Dean said, his voice, like his face, deceptively calm. “It’s over.”

The gun dug in deeper and Parker bit down on her lip to keep silent. Dean’s hands fisted, but that was his only reaction.

“Stay back,” Renata hissed. She brought the gun out from behind and pressed the muzzle against Parker’s temple. “Or I will shoot her now and you can watch her die. And put your hands up.”

Dean did as instructed, lifting his hands to his shoulders slowly so as to not startle Renata. His voice remained even. “Building security’s already blocked all exits and the police are on their way.”

“You’re lying,” denied Renata, but her voice wavered with a note of uncertainty.

“The police know about your gun. You bought it two years ago. They can prove the bullet you shot at me came from that gun.”

The hand fisted in Parker’s hair clenched again and tears stung her eyes.

“If you kill Parker or me, you will go to prison for life for premeditated murder. You’ll never be with Tyler again.” He paused. “You might never be with him now.”

“What do you mean?”

“He confessed this morning.”

“Why?” asked Renata with a wealth of confusion in her tone. “He’s innocent. Why would he do that?”

The tightness on her scalp eased as Renata’s grip loosened, but Parker remained still, like a small animal hoping a predator would forget about it if it didn’t move, didn’t draw attention to itself.

“He’s trying to protect you,” Dean explained. His voice softened. “Because he loves you.”

The gun shifted, the muzzle no longer aimed at her temple.

“B-but…he…he…” Shaking her head, Renata let her voice trail off. Parker felt her captor’s muscles tense and seized the opening. She grabbed Renata’s wrist, jerked it away and threw her entire body back. She slammed Renata against the wall. There was a dull thud as a head smacked the concrete wall, then a sharp, feminine cry. Dean snatched her wrist and jerked her free of Renata’s hold. He pushed her down and out of the way, and Parker stumbled. Her heart leapt into her throat and the bottom fell out of her stomach. She caught herself against the railing, hands clutching at it like a lifeline, but she still almost fell to her knees.