Dangerous Kiss Read online

  “Sheriff, see the guy hoofing it out of here? White shirt? That’s gotta be him,” Jake said in a low voice.

  In tandem, the two men strolled toward the suspect. Although adrenaline pumped through his veins faster than an avalanche in the Rockies, Jake had to stay slow and in control. A wrong move and he’d tip off the arsonist.

  “You asshole! You set my car on fire!”

  Claire’s battle cry rose above the sound of the fire, the sirens and the crowd. He groaned as she streaked past him. Looked like she’d picked brawl over bawl.

  As she chased after the suspect, the man booked it at a fast clip away from the banshee on his heels. Without hesitation Jake took off after them. He didn’t think first, just followed her lead.

  Damn, he seemed to do that a lot around this woman.

  Wrath. Pure, cold wrath overwhelmed Claire’s better judgment. This guy had to be the Voice of Doom. Who else would blow up her car? After she heard Jake’s comment, she tossed her kitten heels to Jorge and took off after the jerk.

  Waif thin, the cretin didn’t look as though he had the power to beat a girl to death. The thought of what he had done to Kendall and what he could do to her slowed Claire’s pace for a moment, but righteous fury sped her back up.

  She’d be damned if she let some murderer dump a girl’s body at her restaurant, threaten her family, blow up her car and get away with it. If Hank and Jake weren’t going to hightail it after him, she sure would. Letting him roam free meant a constant threat to her family’s safety. She couldn’t live with herself if the Voice of Doom hurt someone because she had missed his call.

  But, damn, he ran fast.

  The creep pivoted into the alley behind Harvest. He sped toward the railroad tracks a few blocks away. Something hard—she really didn’t want to know what—pierced the bottom of her bare foot. Pain broke her stride, caused her to stumble.

  She reeled. Flinging out an arm, she tried to straighten. She couldn’t let him get away. Not when she was so close. Her shoulder banged against a Dumpster, making it throb but jolting herself back to an upright position. Recovering her balance, she ratcheted up her speed. Fear of him getting away spurred her forward.

  She offered a silent thank you to her mother, who had forced her to join the track team in high school. Most mornings, she still ran for miles on the gravel side roads off Highway 28. Despite their quick pace, she hadn’t even broken a sweat yet.

  Digging deep for an extra burst of power, she pushed forward and got within reach. Hope filled her heart as she reached out. The bastard wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone ever again. Her family would be safe.

  Her fingertips brushed the sweat-soaked cotton of his T-shirt, but she couldn’t hold on. He sprinted out of reach, looked back and sneered.

  Oh, really? This guy didn’t think she was a threat, huh? He’d learn. When it came to her family, she’d fight until the bitter end.

  She blocked out the sound of her brothers hollering behind her as she ran and concentrated on her one goal, taking this guy down. An approaching train’s blaring horn punched its way through her focus, planting an idea for how she could take him out.

  One side of the alley dropped off into a short but steep, rocky embankment leading down to the train tracks. If she timed it just right, she could send him flying. Too much of a shove and she could lose her balance too. They could both end up on the train tracks with the engine bearing down on them.

  She ignored her doubts and hammering heart. It would work. It had to.

  Claire pushed herself to the limit, got within an arm’s reach and launched herself at him. The unexpected impact forced him to stagger forward. Exactly what she wanted. But the momentum sent her with him, tumbling down the stony decline. Helpless to slow her descent, the surface as the world spun.

  They rolled across the sharp rocks and slid to a stop just shy of the tracks and the oncoming train. She hurriedly unwrapped her twisted legs from around him, worried they had landed close enough for him to toss her into the train’s path. They bounded up and faced off against each other as a train advanced. The locomotive’s engineer blared his ear-splitting whistle.

  Neither Claire nor the killer moved an inch. His nickel-size pupils were so dilated, she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes. The fingers on his right hand twitched as he shifted his weight from side to side and ground his teeth. Drenched in sweat, he leered at her and an icy-cold dread spilled down her spine.

  Her anxiety level ratcheted up about twelve notches. She’d seen it before, people tweaking as they came down off their meth high. It was the crack cocaine of the Midwest and he looked like the poster boy.

  Not that she probably looked all that sane herself. Blood dripped from her battered elbow, her feet burned and she fought for breath. No way could she overpower him. She had to stall him until her brothers arrived. They’d beat this guy to a pulp. The thought made her downright giddy.

  “Who are you and why are you doing this?” Claire hollered over the train clanking on the tracks.

  He took a step closer, the stench of gasoline clung to him. “Everybody has bills to pay, Cupcake.” He rushed at her and plowed his fist into her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. He followed the shot with a quick jab to her face that rattled her teeth. Claire went down like a sack of potatoes.

  “I want the phone and flash drive,” he screamed down at her flat form, spit bubbling at the corner of his mouth. “You can’t steal them from me. They’re mine. She promised me!”

  Gravel bit into Claire’s back like tiny spikes. The rocks jumped and rattled next to her as the train barreled closer. She wanted to get up, but her muscles wouldn’t budge. Her chest heaved up and down in a fruitless attempt to fill her lungs with air. Pain blurred her vision.

  When was the cavalry coming? They hadn’t run that far. Would they get here before or after this nut threw her onto the tracks to get scooped up by the train’s cow catcher?

  Why did she always react first and think second? She flipped from one possible outcome to another, each worse than the one before.

  The sound of her name being yelled rose above the train’s clatter. Thank God. She knew her brothers would come. They always did. She sucked in a painful breath.

  This tweaker wouldn’t get away. He’d pay for the damage he’d done. She hooked her arm around his ankle. Yanked. But he didn’t fall. His swift kick to her stomach made her curl up in a spasm of pain. Without much effort, he tugged his leg from her grasp.

  The Voice of Doom glanced up toward the alley. “You’ll be seeing me again, Sweetheart.” Then, as if it was no big deal, he jumped the tracks. He made it across right before the train passed.

  Hot tears of fear and frustration slid down her cheeks. He’d be back. No doubt about it. If she couldn’t find the phone and flash drive, her family would pay the price.

  Claire sat up, slowly, despite her body’s aching protests. The wind from the passing train whipped her hair into a halo of fury around her head.

  Now that she could breathe again and the danger had passed, she took stock of her body. Her right cheekbone felt as though she’d been cracked with a hammer. Her scraped palms burned. Her bare feet throbbed, but the hard thing—whatever it was—had been dislodged from her sole.

  “There’s your silver lining.” Claire rested her forehead on her knees. It wasn’t much, but she needed something to go her way right now.

  “What in the hell did you think you were doing? Do you have any idea how stupid that was? How dangerous? My God, Claire, you could’ve been killed,” Hank yelled as the train’s caboose receded from view.

  She spied Hank at the top of the steep embankment with Jake and Chris. Chris wore a grim frown that matched Hank’s scowl. Jake looked toward the horizon, past the train tracks. Glancing back, she confirmed the killer had disappeared onto Dry Creek’s unsuspecting Main Street.

  She shaded her face against the midday sun. “Aren’t you at least going to help me up?”

  Hank glar
ed down at her. “You ran after some guy who probably set your Jeep on fire. Get your own damn self up.”

  With that bit of surly brotherly love, he turned and stomped away. He hadn’t made it three steps before he stopped, looked skyward, grumbled something Claire knew she didn’t want to hear and came back.

  Hank and Chris half slid, half stumbled down the embankment. Each brother grabbed one of her arms and hauled her up. Angry and embarrassed about her imprudent chase, she stared at the ground.

  “Are you OK?” Chris asked close to her ear.

  She brushed the muck off her dirt-streaked wrap dress. “Besides my car blowing up, having the wind knocked out of me and getting punched in the face? Oh, I’m fine.”

  Relief swept across his face like windshield wipers sweeping away the rain. His usual smart-aleck grin returned. “Good. I’ll be sure to let Mom know you’re OK when I call to update her on this latest fiasco of yours.”

  “Chris, you call her and I’ll…I’ll…I’ll do something you won’t like,” Claire sputtered.

  Chris grinned like an overjoyed hyena. He’d been impervious to her nasty looks since birth. They’d been playing this game for years. One would get in trouble and the other would tease and prod to relieve the stress. It had always worked in the past, so why was she still so pissed?

  She shook off her brothers, who both stayed near the train tracks. Holding her battered arms out to the sides and hunching forward to aid with balance, she made her way up the steep embankment. The sight of two tan workbooks sent butterflies spinning throughout her sore torso. With a sigh, she came to a stop in front of Jake. He stared down at her, their height difference made even more dramatic because she was shoeless and still a foot down the embankment.

  “You are a dangerous woman to know, Claire Layton.” He shook his head. “Still, you gotta admire someone who goes after what she wants. Here.” He held out his hand to help her up the final few steps.

  She hesitated, entranced by the muscles in his outstretched arm. His wide hand with its heavily lined palm enticed her. He crooked a long finger and motioned her forward.

  A secret part of her heart stuttered. This man was trouble. Her stomach buzzed. Her breath shallowed. Her bra tightened around her tender breasts.

  Jake’s smirk slid away, replaced by ill-disguised lust. He strode down to her, curled an arm around her waist and scooped her up. He carried her the last few steps up to the alley.

  It felt too good to protest. Her aches and pains lessened in his strong arms and she forgot her scraped elbow and sore jaw. Hell, she barely recalled she had feet, let alone the throbbing on the bottom of her foot from moments earlier. Instead, her waist tingled where his arm touched her. She soaked in the heat emanating from his hard chest.

  Any frustration at her ability to fight against this attraction vanished as she melted in his embrace. Her whole body relaxed into his.

  Staring at the Harvest logo on Jake’s borrowed T-shirt, she tried to get her body back under control. Where had all this come from? She didn’t even know this guy.

  It had to be adrenaline. Right? Yeah, this was all the effects of the adrenaline rush. It had nothing to do with something special about him.

  “Thank you for your help but you can put me down now.” She pushed against his chest. She needed space between their bodies.

  “I don’t think I’m ready to do that.”

  She raised her head at his strained tone.

  All the words in her head disintegrated. She doubted she even remembered her own name. All she wanted to do was stay right here in Jake’s arms. Preferably naked. Maybe on a bed, but that wasn’t a requirement.

  He tightened his arm around her waist, pulled her in closer to his hard body. Jake leaned his head down but stopped when their mouths were only an inch apart. His breath fluttered against her lips.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, we’re both going to regret it,” he ground out.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and wished the rest of the world would disappear. Graphic images in glorious Technicolor flashed through her thoughts, making her breasts heavy. Moonlight casting shadows on his six-pack abs. Rubbing up against him while skinny dipping. Feeling his calloused fingers squeezing her ass as she slid down on his hard cock.

  She didn’t want to let the fantasies go, but whoever said life was easy? He was here today and gone tomorrow. Not her kind of man. She wanted more.

  “You wish He-Man. Put me down.” She’d tried to make her voice sound gruff, but it came out a hoarse whisper.

  She felt his sigh more than heard it. The slight rise of his chest made her curl her fingers into his T-shirt, take in a last whiff of his cologne. She couldn’t place it, but it reminded her of dark rooms and unleashed desire.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he lowered her until she stood on the asphalt.

  A jolt of pain shot through her right foot. She gasped. Balancing on her left leg flamingo style, she examined the one-inch gash on the ball of her right foot. She flashed back to the hard thing she’d stepped on.

  “Great.” She’d have to hobble on one foot back to Harvest.

  Chris scrambled up the embankment. He stopped beside her.

  “That’s nasty. God knows what you stepped on out here. What kind of person runs in an alley barefoot?” He peered closer at her face. “Oh, and your eye is starting to puff up. Nice.”

  She flipped him the bird. Immature? Yes. Satisfying? Uh-huh.

  Hank stepped into the alley and held up a folded piece of paper. “I found this near the railroad tracks.”

  They crowded around Hank. He unfolded the grimy square to reveal a younger Kendall Burlington. She smiled shyly up at them. It looked like a copy from an old yearbook photo. Her then dishwater-blonde hair hung in a low ponytail. She wore a strand of white pearls and a black, scoop-necked dress.

  “Why would the Voice of Doom kill her? She looks so sweet,” Claire said quietly.

  All three men turned to stare at her.

  “The Voice of Doom? Who the hell is the Voice of Doom? And what kind of dumb name is that?” Hank asked.

  “I had to call him something. Whacked Out Killer Who dumped a Body in my Dumpster seemed a little too long.” Claire twisted a strand of hair around her fingers. She had to tell them about the call and the threats. This would not be fun. Hank would be irate that she had held it back from him. Who knew what Jake would think? She felt like crap already, best to get it over with.

  She took a deep breath, then told them about the call and the demand for Kendall’s flash drive and phone.

  “I was going to tell you all of this at Harvest, but then my car got blown up.”

  “You knew all of this and took off after this guy anyway?” Hank smacked his head with his hand as he hollered. “Do you have some kind of death wish?”

  “Hank, stop acting like my older brother for a minute. We have proof this guy is tied to Kendall. Isn’t it worth something?”

  “It’s not worth your life.”

  The worried look on Hank’s face shut her up. She’d scared him when she’d run after the killer. To be honest, now that the adrenaline had leaked out of her system, her reaction frightened her, too. She hadn’t thought first, she’d let impulse rule her actions. Again.

  She wouldn’t actually tell Hank she had acted reckless. No, confession went against the little sister code. Instead, she hobbled over and gave him a hug. He squeezed her back. She was sorry. He understood.

  “All right, all right. Enough PDA here.” Hank gave her a quick peck on the forehead and headed toward Harvest.

  She shuffled, hopped, shuffled down the alley to keep her weight off her injured foot. It felt like she’d been stung by a bee the size of a mountain lion, but wouldn’t cripple her for life.

  Hank, already ahead, didn’t notice her discomfort, but Chris did. He hunkered down. “Piggy back?”

  She awkwardly pulled herself up onto Chris’ back. Glancing back at Jake, she saw he hadn’t
moved. A look of stark yearning lay bare on his face.

  For her? For her crazy but loving family?

  He caught her staring and the emotional display disappeared. He ran his fingers through his short black hair and looked into the distance.

  A pang of regret squeezed her chest.

  Wrong time.

  Wrong man.

  She needed…well, no one right now. Not after Brett. She’d sworn off men for at least a year. Add to that her three interfering brothers and the last thing she wanted was another man who thought he had to protect her and guide her. For too long she’d let the men in her life do just that.

  An hour and two cups of coffee later, the firefighters were gone but the stench of burnt Jeep remained. Its carcass dripped in the afternoon sun, a bizarre centerpiece in Harvest’s parking lot.

  Damn, Claire had loved that car. She’d miss the feel of the wind blowing through her hair on the twenty-minute drive home while she blasted the satellite radio.

  “Mourning the Jeep?”

  Sitting on the employee bench outside the back door, she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at her brother. Chris held an industrial-size brown bottle. She squinted at the label. Hydrogen peroxide. He’d wanted to distract her with his question. Really, it was kind of sweet. She would have told him so too, if he hadn’t chosen that moment to yank her foot out and pour the clear liquid over the small gash. It bubbled and hissed like he’d just opened up a shaken Coke bottle. She jerked her foot out of his hand.

  “Hurts like crazy, doesn’t it?” Chris twisted the cap back on the bottle. “Mom always said the sizzle means it’s working.”

  “Give me the stupid bandage.”

  He slapped it into her outstretched palm.

  “I’ll be right back.” He paused right outside Harvest’s door and waved the bottle at her. “Unless you want another shot of the good stuff.”

  She would have hurled something at him if there had been any ammunition nearby.

  Chris had always been a tease, winning the super lottery hadn’t changed him a bit. Except now he had more time to be annoying.