Red Hot Christmas (23 page)

Jessica rushed in after her. “Mr. Soto, I’m sorry. I can call security and—”

Although both women were the same medium height, Jessica shrank next to the rebelling stranger. Different shades of red blended in her shoulder length hair, ending in spiky layers.
Colorada
. He swallowed. Although she didn’t don the type of accessories that the women he dated fussed over, the V-neck black shirt and faded denim clung to her body, accentuating her slim physique.
 

 
“Mr. Soto, I need to talk to you in person,” the woman said, her voice was sultry and rich like a glass of Malbec. “It’s crucial.” The hairs on his arms prickled with awareness.
 

“I’ll be fine Jessica, leave us alone for a minute.”
 

Jessica closed her parted lips, and ran a hand over her impeccable bun. With a quick nod, she spun on her heels and left, closing the door behind her with a soundless click.
 

He shifted to give the red-haired stranger another once-over that turned into a lingering gaze. When had he last taken a beautiful woman on a date? Work had kept him up at all hours. “How can I help you?”
 

“It’s actually how I can help you.” She took a couple steps in his direction, her focus on him. Most people observed the opulence of his office and commented on the extraordinary view or the scattered accent pieces—or his impressive wine racks stretching over an entire wall. Not this woman.
 

“This should be interesting. I usually don’t ask for help, and if I do…well, I’m aware of it.” He gave her a shrug and leaned on his desk.
 

Although he gestured for her to sit in one of the two ivory leather chairs across from him, she reached the middle of the office and stood, arms to her sides. She curled and uncurled her hands.

“I’m a paramedic nurse. Last night, there was a call. Someone had been shot. We picked up a male patient, and flew him to the hospital. While he was under my care, he whispered something about you. His name was Frank Lewis.”

Alejandro frowned. “You’re kidding, right? Frank’s secretary just told me he died.”

She shook her head. “This isn’t a joke. I’m sorry for your loss. How well did you know him?” she asked, and maybe he hadn’t lived in the US his entire life, but there was no mistaking her assertive New York drawl.
 

“You storm into my office and want to investigate me? Sweetheart, this isn’t an episode of
Law & Order
.” He stretched to his full height and walked closer to her. The temperature dropped a few degrees as he stared into her hazel eyes. “You told me you had a message for me. What is it?” he asked, skeptical. If nothing else, his former fiancée Carla had provided him with a PhD in reading women’s body language.
 

She lifted her chin, and he wished he could come closer and assess her—and savor her—like the bouquet of a new wine. What an interesting woman. Freckles peppered her nose and high cheekbones, and her lips thinned into a tight line. Her jaw was a tad too square. His gaze dropped to her soft neck; there was a line above her collar where her skin was swollen and marred. Wondering how she’d gotten that scar, he cocked his head for a better view, but she moved and her scar disappeared into her cotton shirt. How big was it? By the time his eyes reached hers again, she had taken a couple steps away from him.
 

She ran her fingers along the collar of her shirt. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

She started to walk away, but he reached out and took her elbow. “You don’t walk in here, do this little show, and leave. Tell me whatever you came to say.” How sick was he of women playing games? Extremely.
 

Fear flickered in her eyes, and she turned her attention to his fingers clasping her flesh. She yanked back her arm, clenched her teeth. “Don’t touch me.”
 

That’s…different
. He shook his head and offered her more space, lifting his hands in surrender. “I won’t touch you,” he said, his drawl a notch smoother. “Just tell me.”

“Frank Lewis tried to tell me something. It was hard to understand him, but he mentioned your name, and said he was sorry for…putting you at risk.”

A chuckle floated up his throat. “Are you serious? What else did he say?”

“That was it,” she said.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Sydney Bell. Listen, I have no ulterior motive to come here—and trust me, I have no talent for pranks. That’s what he told me before he lost consciousness.”

He inhaled and peered at her. Ever since he’d touched her, she’d lost some of her apparent composure.
 

Shuffling her feet, she finally studied his office, without as much as a smile of approval. Her attitude hinted that all she wanted was a distraction.
 

“Right. And I should take your word for it?”

“You can ask my coworker Patty if you don’t believe me.”

“Did you tell the police?” The last thing he wanted was an absurd rumor to make it to the headlines. What could possibly Frank have on him to put him at risk? With his uncle’s reelection campaign in full speed, his family couldn’t afford a scandal. Another one.
 

“No.” Her expression changed, fear crept in around her eyes. Alejandro’s hackles raised but she didn’t give him a chance to dig into why she kept the police out of it. “Look, sometimes people say weird things when they think they’re injured. It seemed odd at the time but I was trying not to make too much of it. Then this morning, I checked the news and saw that he died. I figured, maybe I should pass that message on.”

Alejandro drew back and studied her. She arched a thin eyebrow at him and tilted her head to the side, which exposed a bit more of her scar. He leaned toward her, narrowed his eyes as if there were a way to see more. Was she a burn victim? Had she gotten in trouble with the law?
 

She cleared her throat, and pulled the hem of her collar up. “A—Are you done gawking at me?”

He shrugged. “You barge in and say I’m supposed to be at risk, well, it’s been a day, and I’m still doing just fine.” He returned to the glass console and drank a mouthful of whisky. The burning alcohol coated his throat and loosened his limbs, but still didn’t give him any of the answers he sought. Had his psycho ex sent this woman to rattle him? And if so, why? This silly little prank could throw him off. It was in bad taste, no doubt. Why would Carla do that? And why on earth would she go through Frank to get to him? It didn’t add up.
 

      “Good for you, Mr. Soto. Then my work here is done.” She spun on her boots without as much as a farewell. A woman of few words. He lifted his glass, staring in her direction. Hell, he had to admire that.
 

Why not admire a bit more? Her cell beeped, and she pulled it to read a message. He quirked his head to glance at her ass, and imagined the great butt those jeans hid. But something stilled her. Her phone slipped from her hands.
 

He reached her in a couple of long strides. She bent to grab her phone, and he didn’t miss the trembling of her fingers as they gripped the screen.
 

“Are you okay?” he asked, though no, she didn’t seem okay.
 

Her spine locked into place, and she glanced at the phone once more before meeting his gaze. Her skin paled. She licked her upper lip and took a deep breath. Her eyes darkened to a murky brown, and a quick twitch told him she was trying too freaking hard to remain emotionless.
 

“You got some bad news?”

“It was an email from my work. Patty…is dead,” she whispered.
 

“A coworker?”
 

Tears brimmed her eyes. “Y—yes.”
 

He took one step toward her, and stretched his hand to touch her shoulder, intending to give her a sympathetic squeeze. Before his fingers reached her, she jerked back, as if he’d threatened her with a loaded weapon.
 

She wiped the tears with the back of her trembling hand.
 

Confused, he jammed his hands in his pockets. Why was she so repulsed by his touch? “I’m sorry for your loss. Where I come from, we soothe and hug people who just lost someone.” He stared at her, and flashed her what he hoped was a compassionate smile.
 

She chewed on her bottom lip, her gaze dropping to his lips. It was as if she studied his expression, and mused over whether or not to accept his sympathy.
 

“Patty is—was—the one other person who knew about Frank Lewis.” Her eyes widened, and she lifted her hands to her mouth. “Crap. I gotta go.”

Was she serious? His blood chilled like a winter night at the Andes Mountains. If this was for real…
 

Couldn’t be
. There was nothing about his life that would warrant someone wanting to put him in danger. Sure, his business rivals often cursed his aggressive negotiating tactics. But, taking it one step further?

“Wait. Sydney, wait.” He used the voice that would stop any adult male in his tracks.
 

Sydney shook her head and shoved her cell phone in her pocket. “I gave you the message. I need to jet.” She dashed out of his office, and he followed her but his assistant slammed into him.
 

“Mr. Soto.” Jessica drew back and lifted her hand to her head.
 

“I apologize. I didn’t see you.” He glanced at her. “You okay?”
 

She cracked her neck and nodded. “Yes. You have a phone conference with Washington later on. Do you need me to brief you?”
 

The only trail Sydney left behind was the scent of her spicy perfume. Of course he could take the stairs and reach her without a hitch, but should he? He hated to be caught off guard. “The conference needs to be rescheduled. Jessica, call security and have them forward me the info on that woman who just left. Sydney Bell.”

All visitors needed to sign in with their full name and phone number to get clearance and enter the high security building.

Alejandro took a deep breath. What could Frank have meant about him being at risk? He had been careful about keeping back stories he didn’t want anywhere near the press. Like information about his cousin. Every time the memory of his cousin’s death stabbed at his mind, he shivered, and he was taken back to that rainy afternoon, and how he swam for hours to find her. Her death had been his fault.
 

Frank had meant to get a message to him. And he’d asked this girl, Sydney to pass it on. That meant something in his book. So he was going to find her.
Now.

Chapter 2

An old man wearing a festive green sweater rang the bell next to the Salvation Army kettle can. He greeted her, but his words got lost in the turmoil eating at her insides. Patty was dead. The fact spilled industrial strength acid into her stomach.
 

Sadness washed over her, and she no longer fought the hot tears brimming her eyes. They had worked so many shifts together, and Patty had found a way to befriend her, even though forming a bond at her work place—or anywhere else for that matter—had been the last thing on her mind.
 

A sensation of loss, one she was no longer used to, moved through her, and she didn’t need to feel her pulse to know it was beating wildly. She picked up the pace, willing her legs to walk even though stillness would be a haven. One she couldn’t afford right now. If emotions got the best of her, she would fall apart in the crowded street, where businessmen carried their Italian leather briefcases and Cartier watches.
 

No one there knew her, or her past. No one cared. The only person who had…Sydney shut her eyes, and blinked back tears from blurring her vision.
Focus, Sydney.
 

She inhaled and let the air out a couple of times, then dried her eyes with the back of her hand.
 

 
All the way from the otherworld of Alejandro’s office to her territory, the crummy building that needed a major overhaul, she’d turned the question over and over in her head: Why had Patty died? According to the email that went out to all employees, her coworker suffered a heart attack and died instantly. That was beyond weird. Patty never smoked or favored sugary snacks.
 

Emptiness assailed her. Patty was gone. She closed her eyes and the image of Patty’s kind eyes and crooked smile formed in front of her. A spell of dizziness threatened to bring her down, but she drew a couple long breaths and let them out slowly. Patty, the other person who knew about Frank Lewis, had died in odd circumstances. This was more than strange, it was damn near terrifying. She picked up her pace and shot a glance over her shoulder to check that there was no one behind her.
 

Her studio apartment came into view and she fumbled the keys in her haste to get inside. But once she was in the relative safety of the stairwell she let her mind wander back to Alejandro Soto…the man she knew nothing about. The man who seemed at the center of all this. The man that a stubborn part of her had insisted on talking to. Had that been a mistake? What if he was in on it?

She pulled the key from her backpack, shoved it in the keyhole and the door opened with a familiar lazy creak.