Her 24-Hour Protector (5 page)

Jenna shook off an uneasy sensation, reached down and picked up Napoleon. She stroked him absently on her lap. She suddenly wasn’t so crystal clear on what she was doing with the lead investigator on her sister’s murder case.

Or why her father wanted her involved at all.

Lex returned to the FBI field office building after his coaching session that evening to pick up some reports. He wanted to go through the file on The Tears of the Quetzal again, check out the ring’s trail. Somehow, that rock was central to everything—including Candace Rothchild’s death. And now that Thomas Smythe—Darla St. Giles’s boyfriend—had disappeared, Lex was back at square one.

It was late and most of the offices were empty and dark. Lex
flipped on the neon overheads. One of the bulbs flickered as he made his way down the corridor to evidence lockup. He hesitated outside the door, a sense of coolness settling over his skin. Damn AC thermostat was on the fritz again, turning the place into a virtual meat locker. He unlocked the heavy door, creaked it open. He hadn’t noticed the creak previously—must be the quietness in the building at this time of night.

Lex picked up the box containing the rock that had caused so much trouble and opened it. He took the ring between his thumb and forefinger, holding the massive stone up to the dim light, he swiveled it.

He was momentarily blinded by a flash of green, violet, then blue light. His pulse accelerated slightly. He’d never seen the rock in this light before. It was magical. He turned it more slowly in his fingers, the facets of light bouncing electrically as it moved. The Tears of the Quetzal. Even the name seemed sad. Somehow poignant. Yet beautiful at the same time. Seven carats of chameleon diamond. Set in gold.

The colors were dazzling. The strange luminous shafts of light emanating from the stone were like the ectoplasmic fingers of some ghost, reaching out to curl back and retreat suddenly as he moved the ring. The play of luminosity absorbed Lex’s attention so fully, so totally, that he was no longer aware of any sound at all in the office, or the fact he was standing alone in near dark under the flickering blue lighting of the evidence room. A band of sensation tightened across his chest as an incredible thought shimmered into his mind.

What if the legend was true?

Natalie, the LVMPD cop—Jenna’s sister and Candace’s twin—had fallen in love while investigating the ring’s disappearance. Then Amanda Patterson, whose purse it was found in, ended up marrying Luke Montgomery in a true Cinderella series of events. After which Silver Hesse Rothchild, a stepsis
ter of Jenna’s, had found true love with her bodyguard after a mere passing acquaintance with the ring. Even defense lawyer Conner Rothchild had fallen head over heels for Vera Mancuso, an exotic dancer, after he’d spotted her flashing the ring during a steamy striptease. Vera was probably the most inappropriate woman a man like Rothchild could possibly end up with.

Enduring love
—it was one of the promises of The Tears of the Quetzal.

Given the odd series of romantic events in the preceding months one might actually be forgiven for thinking this ring held mysterious power, thought Lex, watching the light curl into itself in the stone, as if a sentient thing. Alive. Shimmering. All-knowing. He snorted softly, trying to brush aside the hypnotic power the thing seemed to be exerting over him.

Then he thought of Candace and the flip side to the supposed Mayan curse on this stone. And a cold chill rippled over his skin again as he stared at it, his heart beginning to beat even faster, a strange sensation beginning to settle through him. Lex couldn’t say why or what possessed him but he suddenly pocketed the ring, leaving the box empty as he locked the evidence door.

“S
o, what are you doing in Sin City, Lex?”

Lex regarded Jenna warily, his body language defensive as he sat across the table from her. His job tonight was to work Jenna Rothchild for whatever information he could. And then get out fast.

But things were already going sideways.

Jenna was clearly in the driver’s seat. Having her limo pull up at his humble suburban driveway was no doubt a power play on her part. So was her “request” to be greeted with a bouquet of white flowers.

During the limo ride Jenna had plied him with top Scotch en route to one of the most opulent establishments in a city already renowned for excess. More cocktails awaited at the restaurant, which she’d reserved solely for the two of them—an octagonal, glassed-in affair that revolved slowly over the Vegas skyline. Candles shimmered in crystal holders on every table,
a silvery sheet of water cascaded over a rock feature into a pool of lilies in the center of the room, while staff, dressed in black and white, stood discreetly in the shadows. And sitting at a baby grand, tinkling ivories for them alone, was a renowned singer from New Orleans with husky jazz vocals to rival the best of Nina Simone.

Lex would bet his last red casino chip that Jenna’s choice of music was intentional. Somehow she’d known he loved jazz.

That meant she knew way too much about him.

“I hear you’ve been in town nine months now, Lex, and that you put in for the transfer to the Vegas field office from your post in Washington.”

Definitely too much.

Jenna smiled the smile of a woman who knew exactly what wattage she generated. She was dressed in pure, virginal white and looked anything but virginal. Her blouse was low-cut, sheer. Her palazzo pants were silky. She wore them over impossibly high strappy gold sandals, and Lex had been unable to stop himself from fixating on the way the fabric had swished around her long legs when she walked. Or was that sashayed? Jenna didn’t do anything ordinary like “walk.”

In contrast to the white silk, her butter-smooth skin was tanned a soft biscuit-brown, and her limbs were taut—a woman with time for the pool and the gym. She looked vibrant, athletic, radiantly alive. And somehow sophisticated at the same time. Pure privileged casino princess. And way out of his league. Hell, she was out of his freaking hemisphere.

Her eyes glinted with some secret amusement as she waited for him to answer. Lex wondered if it was his obvious discomfort that she found so entertaining. “And you got this information from who?” he said guardedly.

She swiveled the stem of the crystal glass. “Let’s just say I
mounted a little covert investigation of my own.” Her eyes slanted up. “I learned quite a few things about you, agent.”

“Including the fact I like jazz?”

“Maybe.” She smiled.

“Cassie Mills? Did she wheedle it out of my partner, Perez, at the gym?”

“Perhaps.” She took a slow sip of champagne, eyes fixed on his with a directness that made him think of sex. “Is that why the feds paid Cassie a visit today?”

He leaned forward, irritation beginning to lance dangerously through the lust burning a hot and persistent coal into his gut. “How about we just cut to the chase, Jenna? Are you trying to compromise the investigation? Is that what the auction stunt was about?”

Maybe he’d just blown his chance at getting anything out of princess here, but he’d had his fill. Spending any more time with Jenna Rothchild was going to be real bad for his health. And quite possibly his job. Because no matter what Quinn had ordered, Lex could see himself taking the fall if this so-called “under the covers” operation—a farce if he ever saw one—went downhill. And because this murder and this Vegas family was so high-profile, FBI top brass would need to make an example of him. He could smell it all from a mile away.

And it stunk.

She cast her eyes down, tracing her fingertips slowly, seductively along the silver knife alongside her plate. Lex felt his body go hot.

“No, Lex,” she said finally. “I did not set you up to mess with the investigation.” She lifted her eyes. “I’ll concede, though, that I did know you were the lead in the investigation, but when I glimpsed you at Natalie’s wedding and saw your photo in the paper, I also knew you’d be the star of my bachelor auction,
if
I could get you. I also figured it would be a tough sell to get
you to play because of your involvement with the case, so I kept my name out of it and sent Cassie to talk to Rita instead. We learned you had a thing for the Nevada Orphans Fund, so I swung the entire event around you. And then, when I saw you up on that stage, half-naked and getting all hot under your tie, well—” she paused, watching him intently “—I just had to have you for myself.” She placed her cool hand over his. “Does that make you angry, Special Agent Duncan?”

Lex tried not to flush. Crap, he didn’t even know where to look for a moment. She was flat out, shamelessly, seducing him. Or mocking him.

How far did she really want to go? He glanced down at her hand, her slender fingers splaying slowly over his, and perspiration prickled under his dress shirt. The idea he could have sex, tonight, with this intensely gorgeous young heiress—
if
he so chose—lodged hot and fast and sharp in his very male mind. And Lex knew he wasn’t going to get the image out of his head any time soon. His gut turned molten, and his brain felt thick. Quinn’s words crawled into his mind.

The legal stuff will be in the clear as long as you keep your hands off her.

Yeah, sex was the last thing he needed.

“Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing, Rothchild, but I’m not buying the fact you just felt like raising money for an arbitrary charity, for fun.”

She made a moue. “You
are
angry.” She feathered the back of his hand softly with her long red nails. “But you do look rather cute when you’re worked up.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I knew there was a fire buried somewhere inside that buttoned-up suit of yours.” She slipped her manicured nails gently between his fingers as she spoke.

Heat arrowed straight to his groin. “I don’t like being played, Jenna,” he said, his voice thick. “You know what I think? The
real reason behind this whole auction gig is to have my case thrown out of court down the road, when Rothchild lawyers start pointing out I was having a relationship with the victim’s sister. Maybe you want to see my career tank right along with the case, too?”

Her eyes flared.

He leaned forward. “And what
I
want, is to know why? What’s in it for
you,
Jenna Rothchild? Is it because you’re trying to hide some personal involvement in Candace’s murder by obfuscating things like this? Because this is not some party trick, some amusing distraction for a bored young socialite. This is serious. This, Jenna, is life and death, because there’s still a killer out there.” He paused. “One who could very well strike again.”

Her eyes flickered sharply, and a blush started to rise up her neck. Lex went for the gap. “Do you not want to find your sister’s killer, Jenna? Do you not want a murderer punished?”

She withdrew her hand, glanced away for a moment. “I’m not trying to hide anything,” she said very quietly. “Of course I want Candace’s killer brought to justice.”

Lex zeroed in on the crack forming in her facade. “What is it with you people anyway?”

Her eyes shot back to him. “What do you mean
‘you people’
?”

“You people who live in this rarefied Vegas air,” he said with a wave of his hand, indicating the extravagance of the empty restaurant. “You people have none of the touchstones normal, everyday folk do. You live in your daddy’s casino castle, Jenna, playing with your glittery toys, fancy parties, little dogs. You’re immune to the world. To reality. I don’t think Candace’s death means a whole lot to you.”

Jenna’s cheeks went red, his comments cutting to the quick and infuriating her. Lex clearly didn’t like a single thing about her or her family. And quite honestly, when her father had asked
her to come up with the auction shenanigan, Jenna hadn’t thought of the ripple effects—the very real and dark implications down the road. Like having Lex’s case thrown out of court and a killer walking free because of her. Or him losing his job.

Jenna couldn’t help wondering what her dad
had
been thinking when he persuaded her to mess with Lex Duncan. Harold was renowned for his sharklike business acumen—he used people. God, was her own father using her, too? And why wouldn’t he come clean about the provenance of that damn ring?

Jenna was convinced he wasn’t telling her everything he knew about the history of that stone.

She suddenly felt scared and small. And stupid.

Like she used to as a kid.

Lex was right—she didn’t have normal touchstones. She’d never had them. She’d been born into a family that always led her to believe the same rules that applied to everyone else did not apply to them. They were the Rothchilds, special, above it all.

“Wow, you really do have a problem with my family.” She reached for her glass, took a deep sip of champagne, trying to hide her hurt. She’d be damned if she was going to let him see how badly he’d rattled her.

Guilt pinged through Lex.

He was lashing out at Jenna, making it personal, mostly because he was irritated with himself for being so damn attracted to this woman. For being weak. For falling under her bewitching spell.

He moved uncomfortably in his chair and suddenly felt the hard shape of The Tears of the Quetzal in his pocket. His pulse quickened at the reminder he still had it. What the hell had possessed him to take it? He had to get it back into lockup ASAP. Never mind Jenna and her games—if he lost a piece of evidence, a rock worth millions, he’d tank his own career all by himself.

The ring began to burn a hole into his conscience—and into his pocket—and an insane thought suddenly struck him. What if the ring had made him pocket it?

That was absurd. He was losing it. His body temperature elevated as the urgency to get out of this place and return the darn thing wound him tighter.

“You read me wrong, Lex,” Jenna said sweetly, feeling anything but. He’d taken a mean jab at her, below the belt and personal. And now in her mounting anger, Jenna was growing even more determined to win. Because now this went straight to the core of her self-image, her secret vulnerabilities. There was just no way she was going to accept she couldn’t seduce this man. And she sure wasn’t going to leave here empty-handed, either. She was going to get the information her daddy wanted.

“I want Candace’s homicide solved as much as you do, Lex. But I wasn’t thinking about the investigation at all when I arranged the auction. I was thinking solely about charity, and entertainment. It’s what I do—entertain. It’s my job, and I’m good at it. And you saw what kind of money I raised.” She smiled flirtatiously. “So why can’t you just accept that and put business aside and enjoy a meal with me on behalf of your orphans?”

His gaze held hers, and the air between them began to vibrate with hot, dark tension. Something tightened in Jenna’s stomach. Apparently he wasn’t immune to her after all. And she felt a hot rush of pleasure. It fueled her determination. Heat began to pulse low in her belly, a shimmering excitement, anticipation welling inside her as she met the intensity in his sparkling, moss-green eyes. Right now, in the candlelight, they gleamed with the same hints of color she knew existed in the facets of The Tears of the Quetzal, if you held the stone just right. A strange, overly powerful sensation, came over her. It was so bizarre, so potent, she felt dizzy. Goosebumps broke out over her arms, and her heart began racing.

“Jenna? Are you all right?”

“I…um, yeah. I…I’m fine.” She laughed lightly, unconvincingly. “For a second, I just felt as though…”
Some kind of ghost had walked over my grave.
“It was nothing. I just felt a little…dizzy. That’s all.” She blew out air, placing a hand on her chest, gathering herself. “To tell you the truth, I was thinking about The Tears of the Quetzal.”

His brow lowered instantly, and his eyes sharpened forcefully. “What about it?”

“I—I was wondering where you’re keeping it? Where is it now?”

He leaned back, studying her, the pulse at his jawline throbbing. He looked suddenly edgy. Dark and dangerous. “I thought you said no business. No more games.”

She met his gaze, unflinching. God, he really was gorgeous. Suddenly she couldn’t get the idea of sleeping with him out of her head. All she could think about was wrapping her legs around him, feeling his body against hers…inside hers. It was like she was possessed by a force beyond her control. “You know what I think, Lex,” she whispered, her voice going husky as she leaned forward, showing him her cleavage, watching his eyes flicker downward with a small hot flare of female satisfaction. “I think you really do like to play games. You’re a consummate poker player, aren’t you, Lex?”

He forced his eyes away from her low-cut blouse, cleared his throat. “What makes you say that?”

“Because you’re a watcher. I think you like to study people from the shadows, the sidelines, assessing weaknesses, while showing nothing of yourself. Then you suddenly take them by surprise.” She sipped from her champagne glass, and his eyes dipped down to her lips. Jenna moved her fingers lightly down the stem of the glass, slanting her eyes back to his. “I suspect you know exactly how much a man can lose by carrying emotion in his eyes.”

“You get this on
Dr. Phil?
I’m a cop, Jenna. Not a poker player.”

“Same psychological posturing, same strategy, right? Whether it’s casino chips or criminals.”

He said nothing. Because she was right. Lex chose not to wear his heart on his sleeve, a skill honed from a very young age, right from that day in the closet. The day he saw his mother’s throat being slit. The first day of his life alone.

Lex had come to realize that no matter what a man did in life, no matter what friends he made, no matter what women he slept with—or married—he’d always be alone. People were born alone and they died alone. Pain was suffered alone. Sure, he’d tried to convince himself otherwise. He’d gone and gotten himself hitched to a beautiful woman who’d said she loved him, tried the whole classic nuclear family thing. Been there. Done that. Didn’t work.