Prodigal Son (8 page)

“What floor?” the bellman asked.

“Twelve.”

The bellman punched the number, and the elevator ascended.

Twelve.

It’s the VIP on twelve, sir.
That’s what Gray had said. And Cara was on the twelfth floor.

Coincidence? What were the odds that she was the VIP on the twelfth floor who had needed to call security? Wouldn’t she have said something if that were the case?

Unless someone was there with her.

He recalled the tone of her voice. Deadpan. Disinterested. His Hunter instincts flared to life. She was in trouble.

He waited, the Hunter jerking with impatience, the crystal heating against his skin, while the bellman and his luggage cart got off on ten. Then Rafe pounded at the button until the doors closed and the elevator began to rise again. Alone in the car, he opened his senses, little by little, until the Hunter simmered at half throttle. He glanced at the camera in the elevator and wondered if Adrian Gray had something to do with Cara’s dilemma.

For all he knew, Gray could be the one holding a gun to her head.

The elevator stopped on twelve and with a soft ding, the doors opened. He sprinted out into the empty corridor, scanning room numbers and signs to find 1292. He came upon it at the end of a hallway, the last room in the corner.

His hands opened and closed at his sides, his senses wide open and revved. He knocked. “Miss McGaffigan? It’s me, Rafe Montana.”

The door opened almost immediately. “Hi,” she said with a vapid smile. “You just caught me.” She turned back into the room.

He pushed in, prepared for anyone who might be hiding behind the door or furniture. His senses were all on alert, but the suite appeared empty, though it had clearly been tossed. A search? A robbery? Cara disappeared into the bedroom, and he followed her.

A suitcase lay open on the bed, half packed.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, pausing in the doorway.

She gave him that vague smile and headed into the bathroom. “I’m going home.”

“What do you mean, you’re going home?” He stepped into the bedroom and frowned at her as she came out of the bathroom with a makeup bag. “What about Danny?”

“Danny can take care of himself.” She gave an airy wave of her hand, then dropped the kit into her suitcase. “He’s a big boy.”

Something was wrong here.

Rafe closed down his Hunter instincts to minimum vigilance, then grabbed Cara’s arm as she started past him again. She stopped and gave him an inquiring look, her expression as placid as a becalmed sea. But her eyes told another story.

Death hovered around her like a dark fog. Nothing had changed there. But now there was more. He stared hard into her eyes and saw some sort of white haze tied around her thoughts, imprisoning them.

It chilled him to his core. She was leaving town? What if she started driving in this weird zombie state and she crashed the car? What if that was the vision of death he had seen?

“I thought you wanted to find Danny,” he said, watching for some flicker of emotion. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Yes. Danny can handle his own problems.”

Lie
. But truth as well. What was going on here?

“What made you change your mind?”

Her smile wavered just for a second. “I just did.” She tugged her arm free. “I have to pack and leave.”

He followed her back into the bathroom. “Why?”

“Because I do.” Picking up her toothbrush and toothpaste, she frowned at him where he stood in the doorway. “You have to move.”

That white haze in her mind seemed to flicker. He leaned against the doorjamb and bared his teeth in a smile. “No.”

“But I have to leave.” She scowled at him. “Please move.”

Slowly he shook his head. “No, I won’t.”

Her fingers began to tremble. “I have to go home.”

He gently removed the toothpaste and toothbrush from her hands and tossed them on the vanity. “No, you have to stay and help me find Danny. I think I know where he is.”

“You find him. That’s your job, isn’t it?” She pushed at his chest. “Let me finish packing!”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you have to!” She shoved at him again, and he took hold of her shoulders.

“Cara, calm down. You don’t have to leave.”

“I do!”

“Why?” He bent his head so he could look at her eye-to-eye. “Why don’t you stay here and find Danny with me? He needs you.”

That flicker again. “I have to go home.” She jerked out of his hold and stumbled backward. Her elbow struck the towel rack. She hissed and cupped the injured joint with her other hand. For an instant, as he looked into her eyes, her thoughts were clear and frantic, like a trapped animal.

Help me
.

Then the haze took control again.

Physical shock. That’s what it might take to snap her out of it.

“Come on, Cara.” He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to the bathtub. She shrieked and struggled, but still he managed to lift her legs over the porcelain edge and get her into the tub. She whirled back toward him, but he blocked her before she could climb out again.

“What are you doing? I have to pack!” The last word came out with a gurgle as he turned on the cold shower full force.

“You need to snap out of it,” he said, holding her under the spray.

She shrieked and fought and spat beneath the icy water, but he held her there, preventing her exit with his body. His shirt sleeves got soaked, but it was worth it when she twisted her head back from the spray and glared at him with furious brown eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

He turned off the water, then stared deep into her eyes, just to be certain. The black shroud of death still lingered there, but whatever had been controlling her thoughts was gone.

Now he just had Cara to deal with, and she was furious.

*   *   *

“Are you out of your freaking mind?” Her thoughts swimming in confusion, Cara wrapped her arms around her midriff, her body shivering even as her cheeks heated. Her hair dripped, her clothes clung to everything, and Rafe Montana stood there gawking like a teenager at a peep show.

“Here, you’re cold.” He reached for a towel and wrapped it around her, his touch gentle despite the very male interest in his eyes. Her heart stumbled, but she grabbed hold of herself. Now wasn’t the time for romantic fantasies, no matter how comforting his touch. Where had he come from? And how the heck had she ended up in the shower?

She jerked the ends of the towel from Rafe’s fingers and wrapped it tightly around her body.
Play it cool, McGaffigan, at least until you know what’s going on.
“Of course I’m cold; I’m in a freezing shower.”

“I had to snap you out of it.”

“Snap me out of what?” She swiped damp hair out of her face. “Is this how you get your jollies?”

“Of course not. Look, I’m sorry, but—”

“Sorry my ass.” She stepped out of the tub, her movements stiff from her damp jeans. He assisted with a hand on her elbow, which she promptly shook off as soon as she had gained her footing. “I want to know who you think you are to come to my room uninvited and—”

“You did invite me.”

She gave him a get-real look. “I would have remembered if I’d invited you.”

“I called you from the lobby to tell you I had a lead on Danny. You told me to come up.”

“I would remember that.” She stormed past him, soggy sneakers slapping against the tiled floor.

He followed her into the bedroom. “So what
do
you remember?”

She went to the mirrored closet doors and looked at her reflection. Great, she looked like a bedraggled puppy. Wrinkling her nose, she tugged the band from her ponytail, wincing as the elastic snagged in the wet strands. “I fell asleep at Danny’s place and came back here this morning.” Holding the towel one-handed, she combed her fingers through her hair, then went over to the bureau to grab her brush. Going back to the mirror, she began to pull it through the damp tangles. “I got some coffee in the lobby and came back up here.” She stilled as memory stirred.

“What is it?” He came up behind her. “What do you remember?”

“Someone had been here.” She lowered the hairbrush. “Someone had torn the place apart.” She frowned as she centered on the bed’s reflection. “Why is my suitcase out?”

“Cara.” He met her gaze in the mirror, his entire demeanor concerned yet in control. His calm soothed her. “You saw the place had been trashed. Then what?”

“I called security.” She frowned as she tried to remember. “Yeah, I did. And some guys came up. That Gray guy and another guy in a uniform.”

“Then what?”

“I … Oh, my God, I don’t remember.”
Just like the limo ride. Just like the hotel room
. She spun to face him, her pretense of calm shattering like ice. He stood only inches away, a warm, steady rock in the midst of turmoil. So appealing. With one step she could be in his arms, let him make it all go away.

No. She didn’t know him, and it wouldn’t be right to seek comfort there—though whenever she looked into those amazing blue eyes, her instincts screamed she could trust him. But could she trust her instincts?

No way. Not when she couldn’t even remember the last five minutes. Warren had taught her what happened when you trusted too fast, too soon.
You’re on your own, McGaffigan.

She took a deep breath. “Look, I’m drenched. Why don’t you wait in the sitting room while I get changed, okay? Maybe something will come to me while I’m getting dressed.”

“Are you sure?”

The look he gave her said he knew how rattled she was, despite her attempt at cool, calm, and collected. She appreciated his perception and at the same time, resented it.

“I’m sure I really want to get out of these wet clothes.” She tried a smile, knew that she failed but pretended anyway. “Please, wait outside.”

He looked deeply into her eyes, as if he could see everything she was trying to hide. A thrill of feminine appreciation streaked through her—what woman wouldn’t want to be studied so intently? But she was trying to keep from total meltdown here, and his keen examination poked at her fragile pretense of self-control.

“Please,” she said again, hating the tiny break in her voice.

He gave a short nod and turned toward the door. “I’ll be right out here, Cara. If you need anything at all, I’ll be here.” He opened the door and glanced back, his hand on the knob. “I mean that. Okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He nodded again and left, shutting the door behind him.

For a minute she wanted to run after him, but vulnerability was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now. Her gut was telling her to trust him, but too much weird stuff had happened since she’d arrived in Vegas. What if she relaxed her guard with the wrong person? She was a computer geek, not some trained super-spy. She’d probably end up trusting the bad guy—as always.

She rubbed the towel over her hair, regarding her reflection in the mirror, a twist to her mouth.
Sucker
. She’d let smooth-talking Warren sweep her off her feet with all his chatter of marriage and children and then stood there like an idiot when he’d dropped her like a hot rock to marry someone else. And now there was the attraction to Mr. Cool-As-A-Cucumber Rafe Montana.

It wasn’t enough that she was far from home, that Danny was MIA and her condo was on the line, that someone had trashed her room. No, she had to develop some irrational fascination with a man whose only motivation for helping her find her brother seemed to be money. And yet compared to the other players in this drama, he appeared to be the most honest. Money, she could understand. The puzzling generosity of Artie Bartow and Adrian Gray, that made no sense. Unless they were both full of it and just trying to use her to find Danny.

Now that rang true.

She heard Rafe walking around on the other side of the door, a slab of wood that seemed way too thin when she considered she was about to strip down with him right on the other side of it. But she couldn’t allow her thoughts to linger on that. She tossed the damp towel on the bed, then looked her reflection in the eye and put her hands on her hips. “Stop with the fantasies, McGaffigan. Time to get down to business.”

She could handle Rafe Montana and this crazy attraction to him. She wasn’t about to let a man sneak past her defenses again. As long as she kept her focus on Danny, she’d be fine.

But when she opened the door a few minutes later, fully dressed, and saw him standing there, her pulse fluttered. He really was a seriously hot guy. Then he held out a white mug.

“Coffee,” he said. “Crappy hotel room coffee, but at least it’s hot.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Consider it an apology for the cold shower.”

She couldn’t say anything for a moment, not when her heart was doing that little flip-flop thing in her chest again, and coherent words would not form on her tongue. He’d made coffee. For her.

She took the mug and studied the creamy beige liquid. The heat from the mug warmed her hands.

“I found the other cup on the floor. From what was left, it seemed like you took it light and sweet, but all they have here is powdered creamer. Hope that’s okay.”

“Fine,” she managed. She glanced at the rug where she’d dropped the cup and saw he’d tried to soak up the drizzle of liquid with the paper napkins from the coffee setup. Wow, a man who noticed things like how she took her coffee or the stain on the rug. Who did something about all of it.

She lifted her gaze to his, recognized the honest compassion in those stunning blue eyes. Her heart did one slow roll in her chest, and she stopped fooling herself.

She was in trouble.

*   *   *

It was all Rafe could do not to wrap his arms around Cara and promise everything would be all right. She looked like the girl next door, all big eyes and caution, and
so
not his usual type. Yet he’d been getting visions of her for a couple of days now, and the Hunter sat up and howled whenever she came near. What the hell that meant, he had no idea, but he had no business dwelling on it. She was in trouble and needed his help, and that had to be his focus.