Tempt the Night Page 3

  Regret stole over him, and he frowned. His mama hadn’t raised him to terrorize women, but he’d learned the hard way that the fairer sex could be far more dangerous than any man he’d ever tangled with.

  A sound jerked his gaze toward the curtain. He remained immobile as he scrutinized the floor, the bed, and the shadows that constantly changed with the clouds passing in front of the moon. A lump of blackness caught his attention at the base of the heavy curtain. When next the moon’s rays shone their fullness through the window, he confirmed his first impression.

  The tips of a pair of lady’s shoes peeked from beneath the heavy fabric. Whether the shoes held a pair of feet, he couldn’t be sure, but the situation called for him to proceed as though they did.

  Silently, Brady stole across the room until he stood directly in front of the shoes. He jerked the curtain aside, shoved behind it, and came up empty. The next instant, a gun barrel pressed against the small of his back. He froze, a grudging admiration forming for his opponent who’d managed to get within arm’s length without alerting him.

  “Looking for someone?” Her soft voice trembled slightly.

  “I seem to have found someone.” She was holding herself together in spite of the fact that she was afraid. Brady almost felt sorry for her, because it was going to get worse before it got better.

  “Drop your weapon and kick it away.” She nudged him with the gun.

  Brady raised both hands to shoulder level, holding his handgun with two fingers in front of him. “Do you mind if I don’t drop it? Just in case it was to go off accidentally. Don’t want to attract attention, do we?” He knelt and placed the gun carefully on the floor and shoved it away from him.

  She took a breath, and Brady could almost feel her relax even though it was way too optimistic to consider the battle over. She apparently didn’t know that, but she was about to find out.

  Starting to rise, he swung his arm back, grabbed one of her bare feet, and jerked it out from under her, flipping her ass over teakettle. She landed hard on her back, and all the breath whooshed from her lungs.

  Brady was on her in an instant, straddling her, pinning her hands to the floor while he pried the gun from her fingers. She struggled with more fight than he’d expected. The fear in her light-colored eyes stabbed him through, and a rare bout of conscience bit him in the ass.

  He had to give her credit—she didn’t give up easily, but she eventually wore herself out and went still beneath him.

  Immediately, he loosened his grip on her wrists. “Finished?”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Let me go. I’m a state trooper.” As though her body sought to negate her words, a tremor vibrated the length of her.

  He studied her eyes, searching for the truth even as instinct told him she was lying. “Is that the story you want to stick with? You don’t act like any cop I’ve ever met.”

  She tried to jerk her hands free again, and he tightened his hold, stretching her arms above her head. An impatient breath escaped her full, pink lips. “Tell me . . . what’s a state trooper supposed to act like?”

  “Well, for one, they don’t usually hide in the dark and surprise people. The ones I’ve known prefer a more direct approach. And they always seem a little too cocky—arrogant even.”

  His gaze swept over her and homed in on her partially open mouth. Her breaths escaped in hot bursts, and the tip of her tongue appeared briefly and wet her bottom lip. Her heart-shaped face was framed by dark-colored hair. That’s all he could tell by the light of the moon’s muted rays, but he found himself wanting to reach out and touch the flowing curls that collected above her breasts. She was a pleasing mixture of firm softness where his ass met her midsection, and the feel of her between his legs elicited a distracting response from his lower regions.

  Brady forced his gaze back to her eyes. “I’m afraid you’ll have to prove it. Cops still carry ID, right?”

  Her lips thinned. “Let go of my hands, and I’ll get my badge for you.”

  He gave a short laugh. What was her game anyway? “That seems reckless. Tell me where it is, and I’ll get it.”

  Her perfectly groomed eyebrows flew up toward her hairline. “You put one hand inside my clothes, and I’ll have to kill you.”

  Brady chuckled. “That’s better. You’re catching on to that cocky, arrogant thing.” He had to force what was undoubtedly a goofy grin into submission. If looks could have done the job, he’d have dropped dead on the spot.

  He didn’t need to search for her credentials. This girl was no more an Alaska State Trooper than he was. Now all he needed to know was why she was pretending to be one.

  Brady tugged her wrists toward him and folded them on her stomach, circling them loosely with one hand.

  She watched him with distrust and wariness evident in her frown, but she seemed to breathe a little easier.

  “What’s your name, sugar?”

  “Well, it’s not sugar, sweetheart.” She hesitated a second, apparently weighing whether the truth or a lie would serve better. “Samantha McCallister.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sam.” Brady pushed to his feet in one motion, pulling her with him. He tugged her toward the bed. “Have a seat while we sort this out.”

  Her gaze darted to the open door. He hadn’t expected anything less. One eye on her, he inspected the gun he’d taken from her. The safety was still on. Odd for a woman making the bold play she’d tried. He tucked the handgun in his belt.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Sam . . . unless you force me to. I just need some answers.” Like why in the hell was she here when she was so obviously in over her head?

  “Please don’t call me that.” She watched him guardedly as she moved to the edge of the bed and dropped down. Her hands came up to cover her face in a gesture of defeat.

  Her moment of vulnerability poured ice water on his small victory, and compassion warred with his need to learn what she was doing here, hiding and waiting for Maria. Brady turned away to retrieve his weapon from the floor, put the safety on, and returned it to his holster beneath his jacket before he looked at her again.

  The moon unfurled its full strength for a few seconds, catching her in its beam and allowing him his first glimpse of her bloodstained clothes. Holy shit! It was clear she’d been involved in something violent, and worry for Maria was nearly eclipsed by concern for this girl who hadn’t even taken the safety off her weapon before engaging him.

  He stepped in front of her and waited until she turned apprehensive eyes on him. “Okay, so don’t call you Sam. What would you like me to call you?”

  “Mac. Everyone calls me Mac.” Her voice broke on the last part. She cleared her throat and glared at him in a clear attempt to prove how tough she was.

  Brady wasn’t buying her act. He stared back until she dropped her gaze.

  Disgusted with himself for purposefully intimidating her, he had the crazy impulse to reach out and lift her chin, which he rejected as not being in either of their best interests. On the other hand, they weren’t going to get anywhere if this battle of wills didn’t come to an end. Somebody needed to take the high road, and it looked like it would have to be him.

  After another moment of silence, he knelt beside her and looked into eyes so tortured that he lost track of what he was going to say. She flinched away from him, and he let her, figuring he’d had that coming.

  “Are you hurt?” He found his tongue but was blindsided by an unsettling protectiveness. Literally forcing himself to keep his hands off of her, he resisted the impulse to draw her into his arms and shield her from whatever demons chased her.

  “What?” Obviously, that wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask.

  “You’re covered with blood. I’m asking if you’ve been hurt.”

  She wagged her head slowly. “It’s . . . not mine.” Renewed anguish rolled across her expression, and she bit her lip.

  “Mac, did you hurt someone?” He hoped to hell that wasn’t the case.

  “No,
of course not.” A spark of anger ignited in her eyes, and her gaze narrowed. “Who are you, anyway?” She dropped her head and raked both hands through her hair.

  There was no reason not to tell her. Maybe he could foster some trust by leveling with her. “Name’s Jim Brady. I was supposed to meet—”

  “Brady?” Her head snapped up. “Who were you meeting? Do you know anything about Officer Patrick Callahan?”

  “Never heard of him. I was supposed to meet a woman.”

  She fished in her pants pocket, brought out a crumpled, bloodstained card, and shoved it toward him. “M? Are you here to meet M?”

  Brady took the card and studied it. Then he reached for his wallet and produced a slip of paper that contained the same neat handwriting. He held it out to her. “Was that note for your friend, Officer Callahan?”

  Mac nodded, still studying the paper he’d handed her.

  “Want to explain why you’re here and not Callahan?” Brady fought down a jolt of anger at the man who would let her walk into an unknown situation alone.

  They both froze as someone rapped loudly on the door downstairs. “State troopers. Open up.” The gruff command from below drove the curiosity from her eyes, replacing it with a level of anxiety quickly approaching panic. Her breathing became instantly erratic, and Brady could practically hear her heart pounding as she jumped to her feet. He placed one hand on her arm, held his finger to his lips, and strode silently to the window.

  He barely flicked the curtain aside and saw the two uniforms standing on the steps at the front of the house. “It’s okay. They really are troopers.”

  “You don’t understand. They’ll kill me.” Her eyes begged him to believe her.

  So many unanswered questions tumbled in his head, yet in the split second he had to decide, he went with his gut. This woman had been involved in something devastating, yet still found the courage to search for the writer of the note she carried, taking Brady on in the process. Why that was so important to her was only part of the mystery. The bottom line was he believed her. Instinct said the fear and pain in her eyes were genuine. If he was wrong, eluding a cop would probably be the least of his worries.

  He strode toward her. “Grab your shoes, and let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Three

  ONLY MOMENTS AGO, desperation had brought the lie to her lips, even knowing no one in their right mind would believe Mac was a cop. Brady hadn’t either, so what made her think he’d believe the state troopers downstairs were out to kill her?

  That he did threw her for a moment. He had no reason to trust her, any more than she did him. They’d known each other for less than ten minutes—and known in this instance was highly exaggerated—yet he grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the landing, reaching behind him to remove his weapon from his belt.

  Mac pulled back, bracing her feet, when it became clear he intended to descend the stairs and go right through the middle of Gallagher and Simpson. That would be crazy, especially with a perfectly good escape route on the second floor.

  She tugged on his arm until he turned. “Across the hall. There’s a window in the other bedroom—that’s how I got in.”

  Without hesitation, Brady switched direction and headed for the door to the right of the landing. She followed him inside, and he closed it behind them.

  Not daring to relax for a moment until they’d put sufficient distance between themselves and the two downstairs, she rushed to the window and shoved it open. The roof sloped off steeply toward the sixty-foot white fir that grew near the edge of the overhang. Mac glanced over her shoulder to where Brady had been and found him right beside her. She tried to hide the gasp that escaped, but his apologetic grin clearly said she hadn’t fooled anyone.

  “It’s a bit of a jump from the roof, but it’s an easy climb to the ground. Can you make it?” Oh damn. Out of breath and talking nonsense to boot. His brief smile called her on it. He obviously couldn’t believe she’d just asked that any more than she could. The man was fit, muscular, and rock solid. It was plain to see he probably worked out every day, and not just for a hobby either, but like his life depended on how far he could run, how fast he could climb, and whether or not he’d have the upper hand in a fight.

  Mac looked into the most intent and determined eyes she’d ever seen. Surprise jolted her. She was about to put her life in the hands of this stranger whom she knew nothing about. Why should she care whether he made it to the ground? He could be the reason M wanted Paddy to watch her back, in which case Mac was probably already in over her head . . . but for some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, she wanted to trust Brady.

  She needed him for his connection to M, because she was sure the mysterious woman held the key to explaining why Paddy was murdered and bringing his killers to justice. Brady was clearly a dangerous man, yet he’d said he wouldn’t hurt her, and she believed him. She’d be in big trouble if she was wrong about that, but for now she needed him in one piece.

  Suddenly, a loud crash and the sounds of wood splintering carried up the stairs.

  A dark scowl spread over Brady’s face. “No time like the present to find out. Go. I’ll do my best to stay right behind you.”

  With heavy footsteps invading the floor below, Mac didn’t wait to be told twice. She threw her legs over the windowsill, dropped to the roof, and took small, careful steps toward the edge. Brady was closing the window silently when she glanced back, but as he started toward her, she faced the tree again, picked her spot, and jumped. One branch at a time, she lowered herself.

  The tree shuddered under his weight when he landed on a branch above her head, but like everything else he did, there was no sound. She’d have thought a big man like him would have made some noise, kind of like a moose in dense forest, but he moved more like a lone wolf.

  Once on the ground, Mac darted to a nearby spruce and knelt at the base. Brady dropped out of the tree into a crouch, pulled out his gun, and ducked behind the trunk just as lights illuminated the room they’d vacated. The murmur of angry voices floated on the breeze, but Mac wasn’t able to make out their words. It was clear by the pattern of their speech, however, that they weren’t happy.

  Brady darted across the space that separated them and knelt behind her. His low voice so close to her ear sent a shiver from head to toe. “My car’s on the street two blocks south.” He straightened slightly and drew Paddy’s weapon from his waistband. “Do you know anything about guns at all?”

  Mac felt a flush of heat crawl up her neck as she shook her head. She’d been stupid to try getting the drop on him. Stupid . . . and desperate.

  He reached around her and pressed the gun into her hands, his finger on a small tab to the left of the barrel. “This is the safety. It won’t fire unless that’s off. If the situation warrants, push it away from you and keep pulling the trigger until you either run out of bullets or there’s no one left standing. Got it?”

  She grasped the weapon and held it to her chest as she met his gaze over her shoulder. “Are you leaving me?” The prospect filled her with dread, and she told herself it was because she didn’t want to lose her only contact with M.

  His gaze bore into her, and he waited the space of a few heartbeats before he replied. “Sugar, if I was going to leave you, I’d have been smarter to do it before I shimmied down a tree and went on the run from the law.”

  A trace of anger flickered over his features for an instant, but Mac couldn’t decide if he was mad at her or simply irritated in general. He probably hadn’t expected to be saddled with a strange woman, running from the police, with only her word that they intended to do her harm. She barely believed it herself. How could she expect him to?

  She drew in a deep breath. “You should go. This isn’t your problem. The troopers don’t have any reason to suspect that you even know me. You can get to your car and get out of here. I wouldn’t blame you.”

  He gazed at her, searching her face, and for a moment it seemed like he’d ta
ke her suggestion. Then he gripped her elbow and pulled her with him as he stood. With long, silent strides, he followed the tree line through the backyard until they reached the graveled alley and turned right.

  “No doubt I’d be a hell of a lot better off if I took your advice, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I’m kinda old-fashioned that way. If there are any more creeps like those two around, you may not make it through the night. So, you’re stuck with me, at least until you explain why we’re running from two of Alaska’s finest.” Brady’s gaze searched hers as he clearly waited for said explanation.

  “I wish I knew why they were trying to kill me . . . but I don’t.” Mac pressed her lips together and returned his gaze. She wasn’t ready to talk about Paddy—not with this stranger. He was right, though. She was way out of her league. Just what had she planned to do if he’d left her? She had no place to go except back to her uncle’s boat. How long could she stay there with no food or heat? Cold, hungry, and grieving, part of her didn’t care if she survived, yet something deep inside still prodded her to get her ass moving.

  That was exactly what Paddy would have said if he were there. She batted her eyelids against the tears that threatened. Damn you, Paddy.

  Brady issued an exasperated sigh and grabbed her hand before he started walking again. As they traversed the alley, the terrain went from flat and open to a narrow lane rimmed by a three-story brick apartment building on one side and small businesses with back entrances on the other. They crossed two intersecting streets before Brady pulled her into the shadow of an overhang at the edge of Marine Drive.

  He peered down both directions and seemed satisfied. “You’ll be okay here. Stay back in the shadows . . . out of sight.”

  It was everything Mac could do to keep from grabbing the front of his jacket and begging him not to leave. “Couldn’t I go with you?” The trembling of her voice no doubt gave away her fear.

  “You’re the one they’re looking for, so for now you’ll have to stay hidden. I’ll bring the car and pick you up on the street. Don’t come out until you know it’s me. I’ll blink the lights.”