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His expression was jaded, cynical. “Then it’s lucky that saving lives isn’t usually in my job description. I’m usually the one taking them.”

It was a good thing she was unable to come up with a fake laugh at his joke because a moment later she knew he wasn’t kidding. She’d seen him with that gun in his hand, seen the bodies on the ship. She swallowed. “Are you going to help me, or not?”

He watched her closely for a long moment. “I’m going to help you,” he said finally, “simply because I want to know what you’re hiding.”

She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach, but she kept her face impassive. If she weren’t careful she would look guilty as sin, and she couldn’t give this man any more reason to distrust her.

She summoned up her coolest voice. “Why would you think I was hiding something from you? What would I possibly have to hide?”

“I’d say ‘you tell me,’ but I think it would be a waste of time. You’re not about to give up your secrets until someone makes you.”

She felt cold now, frozen. “That someone being you?”

“Maybe. It depends on just what you’re hiding and how much I need to find out. Don’t worry—for now I think it’s something stupid that has nothing to do with the human trafficking and the slime responsible for it. You’re too nice a girl to know people messed up in something like that. Unless it’s your family.”

Jenny wanted to throw up. She jerked her face up to look directly into his dangerous blue eyes. There was no expression in them—he was playing with her, though she wasn’t quite sure why.

Their eyes caught and held for a long, tense moment, and she didn’t dare back down. Finally he leaned back. “However, even your family steers clear of child prostitution and sex trafficking, at least as far as I’ve been able to discover. Even if you’re closer to them than you pretend, they’re unlikely to have been involved. So that rules out one possibility.”

It wasn’t the most reassuring thing he could have said, and she hid the shiver that went down her back at his prosaic words. Before she could say anything he rose, clearly dismissing them. “All right,” he said, bored, “you told me what you want—I’ll do my best to get it as long as you promise to leave me the fuck alone.”

She could feel Soledad’s faint tremor at the sound of the word. The girl knew that word, and knew it meant anger, danger, and trouble. “Watch your language,” Jenny said.

“Or what?” He eyed her coolly. “I don’t think you have much leverage in the situation. You can’t tell my mommy on me.”

She wanted to tell him what an asshole he was. She didn’t trust him, didn’t like him. She knew the negative feelings were mutual, but he was the only one she could go to for help. Her only solace was that there was no way he could find out what she had done that day on the freighter—only she and Billy knew.

She turned to Soledad, trying to ignore him. “I’ll take you back to my place for the time being—I’m sure Mr. Ryder will do his best to get you settled as soon as possible.” She turned and gave Ryder an even glance. “You will, won’t you.” It wasn’t a question—Ryder was someone who would use any uncertainties to his advantage.

“Your wish is my command,” he said, moving toward the door. He stood there waiting for them to precede him into the hall. At least that mama she couldn’t tattle to had taught him good manners.

They walked in silence down the darkened hall, with Jenny reaching the front door first. It had an array of locks and safety measures that looked as if it belonged in a nuclear facility, and she waited for him to start unfastening them. He did so quickly and efficiently, pushing open the door into the bright, hot midday sun of New Orleans.

“Have a good day, Ms. Parker,” he said, and she knew he was mentally saying don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. She could feel relief and regret pulsing through her.

“I have every intention of doing so. I’ll call you first thing tomorrow morning to see what the plans are.”

“It depends what you consider first thing. I don’t get up before ten o’clock.”

She didn’t believe him, but she was hardly going to say so. “I’ll call at eight.” Moving past him, she stepped out onto the marble entranceway when something whizzed past her and a piece of stone went flying. For a moment she froze, looking back in confusion, and then the sound came again, like some crazed bumblebee had decided to attack. It stung the side of her head and she put her hand up when suddenly Ryder grabbed her, yanking her back into the darkened house so quickly she stumbled and went sprawling on the hardwood floor. He slammed the door behind them and Soledad quickly knelt at her side, her soft small hands touching Jenny’s face, a look of worry in her beautiful dark eyes.

And then it was Ryder’s face looming over her, looking both disgusted and inpatient. “Just how big a fucking idiot

are you?” he demanded. “Don’t you know when you’re being shot at?”

Chapter Three

“Shot at?” Jenny echoed dizzily. “Why would anyone shoot at me?” She reached up to touch the stinging spot on the side of her head, and her fingers came away wet and sticky. She didn’t have to look at her hand to know it was covered with blood, and she gulped. She’d never been good with blood, particularly her own.

“You tell me,” he said. “And it may be your little friend they were after. Whoever they were, they were a piss-poor shot. If it had been me, your head would have been blown apart with the first bullet.”

Jenny wasn’t sure which was worse, her nausea at his gruesome image or his calmly stated expertise. “Thrilled to know you’re so accomplished,” she muttered.

The bastard actually smiled. “You have no idea how talented I am,” he said. Before she realized what he was doing, he slid his arm behind her back and helped her into a sitting position. She didn’t want him touching her, but she wasn’t strong enough to sit by herself—not with a ridiculous amount of blood pouring down the side of her face.

“Am I dying?” She realized too late that it gave him the perfect opening. He was probably going to respond with “I should be so lucky.”

Once again he surprised her. “No, though you might have a hell of a headache. Head wounds bleed like crazy.” She felt the pressure against her waist as he slowly helped her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”


Tags: Anne Stuart Fire Romance