Still, the opportunity would present itself. So she watched. And waited. And worked on finding the number one cockroach on her list.
Still . . .
Locate an item . . . Those words left a bad taste in her mouth and a twist in her gut. Absently, she reached into her pocket and touched the necklace she’d tucked away. She didn’t like to wear it, but she couldn’t let it out of her sight, either.
When she touched it, she heard a boy crying. Sobbing.
It threw her back into a spiral of memories that threatened to drown her. Choke her. She couldn’t go there, not now. She was dancing on a razor’s edge with her current job anyway and now with this mess . . . no. She needed her head in the least screwed-up state possible, not the worst.
Squeezing her eyes closed, she whispered, “Just remember . . . you survived.” She’d said it a thousand times. She’d say it a thousand more.
Gathering her dreads into a tail, she secured them at the nape of her neck and then focused back on the message. Locate an item.
There really was no question about what she was going to do, she realized. There hadn’t been from the moment she’d read those words.
Once upon a time, a man had referred to her as an item.
The item in question was last seen in Florida.
“Florida.” Just thinking about that place made her gut hurt. “Damned, forsaken hellhole of a state.”
She’d left there not too long ago, and if she had her way, she wouldn’t go back.
But this couldn’t be ignored . . . and she was already hip deep in a mess of her own.
Oddly enough, the answer to that particular dilemma was one that made her smile. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed a number.
Something told her he wasn’t going to be happy to hear from her.
But that was fine.
She’d been looking for a reason to contact this particular man ever since she’d first laid eyes on him.
THE gray cat sat in the window, watching him with a calm gaze.
There was something almost regal about the animal, Tucker decided.
As he pulled a can from the cabinet, he read off the label. “Chicken and beef?”
The cat slitted her eyes and just stared at Tucker. Sighing, he tossed the can back into the cabinet. “Sooner or later, you need to suck it up and eat the damned chicken and beef, cat.”
She meowed. It sounded a lot like, I don’t think so.
His phone rang. One glance told him everything he needed to know. He didn’t recognize the number, so he ignored it. If his housekeeper had been there, he might have told her to answer the phone and tell the caller to fuck off—Lucia wouldn’t use exactly those words, but she’d make sure the message was heard. Loud and clear. Sadly, though, Lucia wasn’t around.
Ignoring the phone was the best option. “Okay.” Studying the rest of the cans, he pulled down two more. “Ocean fish?”
Now Her Majesty flicked an ear.
“Salmon.”
The cat lay down. Yes, you peasant. You may feed me now.
“You’re a pain in the ass.” Tucker stared at Heywood. “One would think you’d be a little more appreciative of the home and all.”
As he was in the middle of opening the can, his phone chimed. Tension skittered down his spine, and in response, lights flickered in his house. He clenched his jaw and powered it all down. Shit like that wasn’t acceptable. Not in any way, shape, or form. As he knelt down to put the plate on the floor, Heywood jumped down and rubbed her head against Tucker’s gloved hand. The gloves, lined with a thin, inner layer of rubber, protected the cat. It was probably overkill, and he knew it, but he didn’t care. He’d long since learned how to control himself, but he didn’t like to take chances.
Sighing, he stroked a hand down the cat’s back before rising.
The phone chimed again.
There was a picture on the display.
A woman.
He knew her.
Just the sight of her was like a visceral, one-two punch.
Long, dense hair, the palest blond he’d ever seen, fell more than halfway down her back. It was done in a series of narrow dreadlocks, and until he’d seen Nalini, he had never paid much attention to that style, but it was so damn sexy. Ever since he’d met her, he’d spent way too many nights thinking about how much he’d love to twist that hair around his hands and feast on her mouth. Then feast all the way on down until he reached the heart of her . . . spread those thighs and . . .
His cock jerked in response as that image whipped through his mind and he felt the answering tension spark through him, a devastating need that spoke of storms and power and heat.
Problems lay down that road, he knew. Hard to get too involved in kissing anybody when his very touch could prove fatal.
One slipup, one loss of control . . . yeah. His encounters of the physical kind were few and far between, and usually with somebody he found only minimally attractive. It was a release valve for him, nothing more.
Snagging the phone, he pulled up the messages and spent a long, long moment staring at her picture. Just staring. He gave himself that before he started thinking things through.
Things like . . . how in the hell did she get my number?
As he was puzzling that thought through, he shifted his gaze to the message that had come with the picture.
If you’d like to know how I got your number, you’ll have to answer the phone when I call. If you like, I can send you another picture. I’m thinking about sending one of me naked. Are you interested?
Tucker swore.
FIVE
“HE’S dangerous.”
The second the words left her, Vaughnne felt a little guilty; the boy didn’t intentionally want to harm anybody, she knew. But she needed more information and she didn’t believe this shit that she’d been given everything she needed to know.
“He’s just a kid,” Taylor said.
“Just a kid.” She sighed and stared out the window, pondering the empty driveway. The one thing she had taken a chance on . . . she’d put a tracker on the truck and a mini-transmitter. She’d know when they were heading home, as long as her little toys weren’t discovered. She needed to get a better set of eyes and ears inside that house.
This was one of the few times she could possibly manage to get it done, too. The lovely, wonderful, slightly dodgy Mrs. Werner had another plumbing problem, and Gus had agreed to go pick up the supplies to take care of it for her.
After he’d left, Mrs. Werner had confided to Vaughnne that she actually had a nephew who was a master plumber and could take care of things in a jiffy for her . . . but she’d rather look at Gus than her nephew any old time. Plus, she thought that nice-looking young man could use the extra money.
Vaughnne suspected it was likely equal parts. The lady was lovely, but she spent an inordinate amount of time ogling every halfway attractive male she could. Gus was more than halfway attractive. Vaughnne actually hoped she had that interest in men when she was Mrs. Werner’s age.
Checking Gus’s location again, she told herself she needed to get this done if she was going to do it. Should she warn Taylor to come looking for her body if she didn’t check in soon? Gus was ten minutes from here, getting closer to the hardware store.
“Just a kid.” Then she reached up and massaged her aching temple. Did she lay it out? Or did she bide her time? She didn’t think Jones would do anything that would threaten a kid. She really didn’t. But . . . “Yeah. It’s not the kid I’m worried about,” she lied. She did it with ease and she did it without batting a lash or feeling any bit of guilt. “It’s the dude with him. The guy walks around carrying a Sig Sauer that would put a pretty damn big hole in me. He acts like I’m trying to poison them if I make cookies, Jones. Cookies. Trust me, the kid isn’t the problem. The guy is.”