A Perfect Storm(39)

And then it came to him, exactly what he would do, who he would send after her. He'd stay safe, but she would become his.

Oh, yes, a perfect plan. He laughed, knowing it would all work out.

* * *

INHALING THE MUGGY NIGHT AIR did nothing to help clear Arizona's head.  In case anyone watched them, she made a point of not waiting for  Spencer, of not looking back to see if he followed closely.

Plenty of people milled around out front, and the occasional car drove  past. Somewhere out there, Dare kept watch. Spencer would soon follow.

She hadn't accomplished her goal, but they'd made headway. For now, that'd have to be enough.                       
       
           



       

Moving farther from the entrance, she lifted her hair off her neck and  tuned out the escalating noise of rowdy brawling from inside the  building and boisterous customers outside as they headed to their cars.  She didn't speak to anyone, and she didn't move too quickly because  Spencer wouldn't want her out of reach.

Thinking of him gave her a smile. Spencer.

The strange turbulence firing her blood had nothing to do with the violence in the bar or the alcohol she'd consumed.

It had a lot to do with the impossibly hunky Spencer Lark.

Man, he was really something.

Something … exciting. And amazing.

And really appealing.

Looking up at the sky, Arizona tried to see the stars, but angry clouds  hung low, rolling over one another. It would storm again, but she didn't  mind. In fact, the thought of a rainy night seemed somehow … sexy.

How crazy was that? She never thought in those terms, but to think of  that now, after tangling with a maniac like Terry Janes or his  unscrupulous lapdog Carl, defied reason.

Sure, she always enjoyed engaging in a little violence. Blowing off steam sometimes mellowed her. But this was different.

The way Spencer made her feel was unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

As she made her way up the sidewalk a few feet more, she sighed. It was past time for her to reclaim her life-in every way.

With Spencer, all things seemed possible. With him, anticipation replaced dread.

He'd be out soon, and she had to decide what to say to him, how to convince him to get down and dirty with her.

Somehow she'd win him over. Tonight.

She didn't think she could wait any longer.

* * *

EVERYTHING HAPPENED FAST.

Something whooshed past Spencer's head, too close for comfort. Settling  his chaotic thoughts, he turned to meet the danger. Trusting his gut  instincts, listening, feeling the air, he prepared for what would  happen. He had no idea who would attack first, but he sensed the trap  and was as ready as he could be.

Suddenly thick arms circled him from behind, and he knew it was the  beefy bartender. Pinning one of the bartender's arms to his side,  Spencer used his other arm to bring back an elbow hard enough to crack  ribs. When he heard the breath leaving his attacker, he took advantage,  and in one deft move, flipped him over his shoulder.

The big man landed with a resounding crash.

Emergency lights flickered on, and added to the glow from outside  illumination spilling in through the big front window, he could see well  enough. The bartender lay unmoving over a broken table. Given the odd  angles of one arm and a leg, he wouldn't be bothering anyone else that  night.

It struck Spencer then-he was attacked, so likely Arizona would be a target, too.

To hell with subterfuge.

Breaking out in a sprint, he leapt over and around people, tables and  chairs. He shoved through the doorway and into the thick, humid night  air. Scanning the area, he finally spotted her down the walkway, just a  little too far away.

A second later, Carl stepped out of a dark alley … and reached for Arizona.

No.

Silent, deadly and more focused than he'd ever been, Spencer charged toward her. Neither Arizona nor Carl saw his approach.

But he saw the knife in Carl's belt, and he prayed he'd reach her in time.

* * *

ARIZONA'S THOUGHTS were on seducing Spencer instead of where they should  have been, so when she saw the dark, indistinct form growing into a  long shadow across the walkway, it took a few seconds for the import to  sink in.

Too late to take the offensive against him, Arizona realized it was Carl lurking in the night.

Well, damn. Had he taken the back exit from the bar and circled around to get her? That meant he had to have seen her leave.

And it also meant he'd been watching her … maybe Spencer, too.

If he'd hurt Spencer, so help her, she would demolish him.

As Carl made a grab for her, she played the helpless victim and let him.  He snatched her into the alley with hard hands and careless strength,  dragging her down to an open door.

He shoved her into a small dilapidated room.

Maybe before all the whiskey shots, she'd have been sharp enough to  think of a better plan. Shoot, even two drinks ago she would have been  more on game.

But even over the limit, she wasn't totally lost to skill. She wanted to get close to him.

How else could she hurt him?

Once they were out of sight from spectators, she reacted instinctively  to the arm clamped tight across her throat. She went limp, dropping her  weight to throw Carl off balance. When he tried to readjust, she grabbed  for his fingers and, in a practiced twist, broke two with a satisfying  crackle of joints.

That got her turned loose real fast.

With grim satisfaction, she ducked away while Carl let loose a string of  rank curses. She knew Spencer wouldn't want her to fight, but since  Carl blocked her way out of the room, she couldn't exactly tuck her tail  and run, now could she?                       
       
           



       

He left her no choice but to engage in full-go contact.

Awe-some.

Taking a stance, ready, even anxious, Arizona smiled at him.

"You stupid bitch," Carl said, and with his left hand he pulled a knife from his belt.

Great. He was an ambidextrous fiend? Figured.

Stalking her, backing her farther into the dark room, Carl said, "You thought you had us all fooled, didn't you?"

She opened her mouth to reply.

But he barked, "Shut up!"

Arizona bit back her smile.

"We saw you fighting. We saw you laughing."

We who? She lifted her chin. "So does this mean I'm not hired after all?"

His hand flexed on the knife hilt. "It means you're not worth the trouble you've caused us."

Foolish man. She knew plenty about knives, so seeing one, even in the  hand of a maniac, didn't send her into a panic like it might someone  else. "You're saying my value as a saleable commodity just collapsed,  huh?"

Surprised by her lack of fear and knowledge of their real intent, he  hesitated. But only for a second. "You're not so dumb after all, are  you?"

"Well, ya know, compared to you … " She grinned, reminding him that she  had fooled him and his cronies. "Yeah, I look like a freakin' genius,  right?"

Holding his injured hand out to the side, he flexed his muscles. "You think this is a joke?"

Her back bumped up to a damp wall. "I think you're a joke, yeah."

A deep, angry breath swelled his chest. "You're going to regret that flippant mouth, girl."

Arizona took in Carl's aggressive stance and dark scowl, felt his mood change as he prepared to lunge at her.

Time to make a move.

Dropping her voice and her chin, looking at him through her lashes, she  whispered, "And here I thought you liked my mouth." To emphasize the  suggestiveness of that, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips,  leaving them moist.

That distracted him enough that he said, "I can think of better uses for it."

Men were sooo easy, thank God. Slowly, Arizona trailed her fingers over  her chest and down into her cleavage. "I bet I could come up with all  kinds of uses that you'd approve of."

Putting his attack on hold, he eyed her. "Is that right?"

She nodded, but he was busy ogling her boobs. She stepped away from the  wall. "Maybe if I'm good enough-and, Carl? I can be really good-well,  then, maybe I can convince you not to kill me?"

"Let's find out." Seeing her as no threat at all, he took a step closer. "Take off your shirt."

You'd think he would have learned from the broken fingers.

Arizona caught the hem of her top. "You want me naked? Here?"

Anticipating her nudity, he adjusted his hold on the knife, and his gaze  went to her body. Murmuring low, he promised, "I will tear your shit  up."

Arizona smiled, prepared to attack-and Spencer's fist came out of  nowhere. It struck Carl in the jaw so hard, a tooth came spewing out.

Euewwww.

Deciding it'd be a good time to move, she slipped a few feet along the wall and away from Spencer's rage.

And he was enraged. Big-time.

Would he kill Carl? She tipped her head to survey the damage already  done. Spencer held up the smaller man with one fist twisted in the front  of his shirt while punching him with the other big fist. Carl's knife  lay on the ground. His legs were limp, his grunts of pain dwindling.