Betrayed (8 page)

“Uh-huh,” she answered, thinking she wouldn't find out about her brother's problem there.

“Traditionally it had chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream. And often walnuts.”

“I like this one better.”

“So do I.”

She watched him enjoy the confection, letting him have some of her portion and thinking that he was like a kid who'd been given an unexpected treat. He scraped up the last of the melted ice cream and looked at her.

“You let me have more than my share.”

“We'll both have to work it off. I'll bet you've got exercise equipment at home.”

“And you don't?”

“What would you recommend for a lady who doesn't want to spend too much?”

“Free weights. I could show you some toning exercises.”

“Okay.” When would that be? she wondered.

***

Shane paid the bill, thinking he'd had a good time this evening—even when they'd talked about stuff like Bert Iverson.

“Thanks for dinner,” Elena said as they reached his car.

“I enjoyed it.”

“Yes.”

They both climbed into the front seat, and as he drove back toward her apartment, neither of them said much. He could feel tension crackling inside the vehicle as they approached her parking lot. Both of them were wondering how the evening was going to end.

He knew what he'd like to do. Not what you did on a first date with a nice girl. Particularly one from a very conservative culture.

Had it been a date? He wasn't exactly sure of the definition in the early part of the twenty-first century.

He should simply drop her off and leave, but he was thinking that he wanted to prove to himself that she wasn't having an effect on him.

Slowly he pulled up in front of her building and cut the engine, feeling his tension mount. Should he drive away? Or reach for her. He watched as she unbuckled her seat belt in preparation for exiting. Her next move might have been to thank him for a nice evening and exit the car quickly, but when he unbuckled his own seat belt and put his hand on her arm, she went very still, then turned toward him, a questioning look on her face.

He could have told her he'd see her the next day at work. Instead he slowly pulled her closer, ready to let her go if she did anything to tell him she didn't want the contact. Instead of drawing away, she came easily into his arms, and he folded her close.

“Elena.”

“Yes.” Was she simply answering to her name or giving him permission? To do what—exactly?

When she tipped her face up, he lowered his head, touching his lips against hers. He had been prepared to leave it at that, perhaps a chaste good-night kiss on a first date.

But as soon as his mouth touched hers, he knew he'd been fooling himself all along. He wanted to kiss her. And more. He increased the pressure, brushing his lips back and forth against hers, and feeling the contact send little sparks to his nerve endings.

He nibbled at her lips, increasing the pressure, silently asking her to open for him. She resisted for a moment, then opened her mouth, and he caught the sweet scent of her breath before his tongue slipped inside so that he could play with the interior of her lips and the line of her teeth. She made a small sound of approval low in her throat and angled her body so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. As he absorbed their twin pressure, he wanted to reach between them and cup one, but he resisted the urge because he was fairly sure from her response to him that she didn't have a lot of experience with men.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from sliding his hand along her arm and over her back, and finally combing his fingers through her thick dark hair. He'd wanted to touch that hair all evening, and she didn't stop him from doing it now.

He could feel her breathing accelerate—and his along with it. He stroked his tongue along the side of hers, loving the intimacy. He had known she would taste wonderful. And he had been almost sure that she would respond to him. Now the reality of what was happening between them was like a whirlwind swirling through his senses.

He wanted to go inside with her where they could have the privacy he craved. He wanted to take off her clothing and stroke his hands all over her body, concentrating on the sensitive places and watching to see the effect he was having on her.

For long moments he contented himself with holding her and kissing her while his body clamored for more.

Finally, Shane exerted enough willpower to break the kiss, knowing that he was going to have to stop while he was still thinking clearly.

Her eyes blinked open, and she stared at him, looking dazed and aroused. The arousal almost tipped the balance for him, but he managed to say, “You should go in.” He could hear the thick quality of his own voice and knew he was close to the edge of doing something he'd be sorry for about five minutes after he did it.

He watched her tongue flick out and stroke across her lips.

“Yes.”

“I want to see you again,” he said, hoping she didn't think he'd been taking advantage of her.

“Yes.”

What else would she agree to, if he asked? He wanted to find out, but at the same time he knew he was walking very close to the edge of forbidden territory.

She turned away from him and reached for the door handle. He watched her climb out and close the door, then walk slowly toward her apartment building on unsteady legs.

The impulse to follow her was almost too great to resist, but he stayed where he was, watching her enter the building. There was a large window in the front of the stairwell, and he could see her climbing to the second floor.

When she reached her landing, she turned and looked back. Seeing his car, she raised her hand and gave a small wave. He waved back and watched her turn to her apartment and unlock the door.

***

Elena stood for a moment at the top of the stairs. She was far enough away now that she could turn and face Shane, looking at his car through the window. She raised her hand and gave him a little wave. He waved back, then backed out of the parking space and drove away. She'd dreamed about kissing him—and more. The dream had been erotic, but the reality had been so much greater that she could hardly deal with it.

She was aroused, but that was only part of what she'd felt—a connection to him that she hoped was the start of something new and good in her life.

But what had the kiss meant to him? He'd looked at her as though he wanted to eat her alive. That should have frightened her. Instead, it had made her heart leap inside her chest. She'd been afraid that the attraction was all on one side. Now she knew that he felt something for her. But she wished she understood the depth of those feelings. Her thoughts circled around as she tried to make sense of the kiss. She knew he wanted to make love with her. And she was quite sure he felt more than just the physical attraction. Still, that didn't mean he wanted to marry her.

She made a scoffing sound. One kiss and she was thinking about marriage again. But that was what her upbringing forced her to think about. Women from her culture who slept around were considered sluts. And she wasn't able to get her early training out of her head. If this was leading nowhere, she should tell him she wouldn't see him again. But why do it so quickly? She could be pushing him away when he was still making up his mind as to what kind of relationship he wanted.

***

Shane forced himself to breathe deeply and get his body back under control. He'd never wanted a woman more, even though he'd vowed that he wasn't going to get involved with anyone after the sting of his divorce. His relationships over the past year had been few and far between—and casual. He liked it that way. Sex with no strings, because he didn't have to think about the future with anyone he took to bed.

But this evening had confirmed his suspicion that a casual relationship was the wrong way to go with Elena. For a whole lot of reasons. He suspected she was a virgin. Not because most women her age would be, but because of the culture she came from and the way she'd kissed him—with enthusiasm but not a lot of skill.

If he wanted to keep seeing her, he'd have to think carefully about where they were headed. And not only because she'd mentioned marriage when he'd asked her what she was planning for her career. There was another factor as well. He still had the problem that she was a prime suspect in the S&D case. And if their relationship was going anywhere, he'd have to satisfy himself that she wasn't into something illegal.

But did he have to stay away from her while he figured it out?

He snorted. What was he hoping—that he could act serious, then catch her with her hand in the cookie jar, giving him the perfect excuse to congratulate himself on making a timely escape?

***

Elena pulled her keys out of her purse, unlocked her front door, and stepped inside her apartment. She'd been wrapped in the rosy glow of the kiss. Suddenly she was back to reality, and she didn't like what she saw. The first thing she noticed was that the light she'd left on beside the sofa was off. The second thing she noticed was a strong coppery odor that smelled like it had nothing to do with her apartment. She was about to back out the door when she saw the figure huddled on the end of her sofa and stopped short.

It was her brother.

“Alesandro.” He had her key, and after she hadn't answered the door, he'd let himself in.

When he made a moaning sound, she rushed toward him and went down on her knees in front of him. As soon as she saw him, she knew that the odor she'd smelled was blood. His nose was bleeding, and one of his eyes was black. Bruises and abrasions spread across his face, and the collar of his dress shirt was torn. He looked like he'd been in a fight and lost badly.

“
Madre
de
Dios
.”

He raised his head and squinted at her through his good eye. “You came home. Finally.”

“What happened to you?” she gasped.

He made a sound deep in his chest. “It's what I told you.” He gave her a direct look. “Where were you?”

She felt the question thud against her. “Out to dinner with a friend,” she answered, holding her breath for him to ask who she'd been with, but the answer seemed to satisfy him. Or maybe he wasn't in good enough shape to focus on her social life.

“What you told me?” she asked, trying to understand what he was talking about.

“The guys who want that information from S&D. They want me to persuade you to get it. And they gave me some extra incentive.”

His flat words made her feel like he'd knocked the breath from her lungs, but she managed to ask, “How did you get involved with them?”

“I did some work for them. Easy jobs. Like taking a car from a particular parking space.”

“Stealing a car?”

“I'm not sure it was stealing. But that's not the point. They want more now. They beat me up as a warning. Next time they'll kill me—unless you get me that thing from S&D.”

Her head was spinning as she tried to work her way through what he was asking.

“I don't even know what I'd be looking for.”

“Something Arnold Blake stole from the company. Information about a new product that isn't on the market yet. But it's a big deal. He got it, but then he held out for more money and didn't turn it over.”

“You said they killed him.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head in confusion. “How were they supposed to get what they wanted if he was dead and couldn't tell them where he'd hidden it?”

Her brother raised one shoulder. “They're violent men. They beat people up to get what they want. But maybe what they did to Blake was a mistake. Maybe they leaned on him too hard. Did too much internal damage or something. They could have done that to me tonight—and I wouldn't be here begging you to help me.”

She felt her throat close. He was right. He looked awful, and he was lucky he'd gotten here under his own power.

“Would they do something to my car?” she asked suddenly.

“Like what?”

“It wouldn't start, and the mechanic said the spark plugs were loose. He said that was unusual.”

“They might have done it.”

“Why?”

“To make you worry.” He gave her a sharp look. “Stop asking questions about your damn car. You have to get that thing for me.”

“I don't know what it is,” she repeated, trying to make him understand that she was in no position to do what he wanted. “And why would it still be there? Wouldn't they have cleaned up his work area?”

“No. It was left alone.”

“How do you know?”

“They have inside information. They told me his office hasn't been touched.”

“Not even by the police?”

“Of course by them. But they didn't take anything away.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

When she started to object, he rushed on. “If it's not the truth, then I'm a dead man.”

Her brother reached for her arm, squeezing his fingers into her flesh. “Blake must have left it somewhere around his work area. You have to check through his stuff.”

“Why his work area? He could have taken it home.”

“If he had, the guy who wants it would already have it.”

“We can get help.”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “If you tell anyone about this, I'm dead.”

Her stomach clenched. She felt like she'd stumbled into an alternate universe where nothing was as it seemed.

Still trying to be logical, she said, “But someone would already have checked Blake's work area.”

“And they didn't find anything,” Alesandro insisted, a note of desperation in his voice. “But it's got to be there.”

Feeling like they were going around in circles, she asked, “How do you know?”

“Because the men wouldn't be asking me to get it if it didn't exist.”

His logic didn't make perfect sense. Someone was making impossible demands, yet she wasn't going to waste her brother's energy by arguing with him. Instead, her mind was racing as she thought in detail about what he wanted her to do.

“There are security cameras at work. I can't just go into the building and up to Blake's desk.”

“You can go into the building. You can go to your office. Then you can go to Blake's office.”

“But…”

He reached into his pocket and brought out a rectangular object that looked something like a smartphone, only a little smaller. “This will jam the cameras.”

She made a moaning sound. “But they'll know something's wrong.”

“Then you have to be quick.”

“Alesandro,
por
favor
. I can't do this.”

“You have to. Now.”

“Now?” she echoed.

“This is the perfect time. Pretend you forgot to do something at work. Go into the building, and go up to your office.” He held up the device he'd shown her. “It's preprogrammed. You press these buttons. It will disable the cameras in that area.”

She wanted to say no. She wanted to scream at him that she couldn't do what he was asking.

But after handing her the device, Alesandro slumped back against the back of the couch, his face contorted with pain.

“Go now,” he said. “Please. For me.”

“What am I looking for? Something on a piece of paper?”

“No. Something with data in electronic form.”

“And what if they figure out the information is missing?” she dared to ask.

“It's already missing. Blake took it before he died.”

While she was turning that over in her mind, he reached into his pocket again and took out a pair of rubber gloves. “You should wear these.”

She winced. She hadn't even thought about fingerprints. But of course she needed the gloves.

“Give me a minute.”

Feeling as though she were trying to lift her feet through quicksand, Elena walked into her bedroom. After taking off the sundress and carefully hanging it up, she pulled on a dark blouse and a pair of slacks.

Then she came back to the living room, marched past her brother, and fled her own apartment. A few minutes ago, she'd been happily thinking about what the future might hold with Shane Gallagher. Now she knew a future with him was an impossible dream.