Rocky Mountain Revenge. Cindi Myers

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СКАЧАТЬ sweater. “Tell me your story, Jake,” she said. “Or should I call you Jacob?”

      “I always liked the way Jake sounded when you said it.”

      “But Jake West wasn’t your real name.”

      “No. But Jake West was close enough to Jacob Westmoreland my handlers thought I wouldn’t get confused in a tense situation.” He shifted, balancing his coffee cup on the arm of the chair. “I wasn’t even supposed to be there at all. I was auditing the accounts at one of your father’s companies, looking for some proof of mob connections. I needed some more information so I made a personal visit. Completely unauthorized, but when I hit it off with the manager there, my bosses saw a way in. They gave me a crash course in undercover work and sent me off to find out what I could. They never expected I’d blow the whole organization open.”

      She traced one finger down the side of her cup. Her nails were short and unvarnished, different from the perfect manicure she’d always sported before. “Was seducing me part of the plan?”

      “You were never part of the plan,” he said. “I didn’t even know you existed until I saw you at the club that night.”

      “You were investigating my father and you didn’t know about me?” She looked scornful.

      “I was investigating his business. I didn’t care about his personal life. And I don’t read the society pages.”

      “Why did you dance with me that first night?”

      “Because I couldn’t not dance with you. The moment I saw you, we might as well have been the only two people in the room.” He leaned toward her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it, too.”

      She looked down at her lap, avoiding his gaze, but the blush in her cheeks warmed. “Yes,” she breathed, scarcely louder than a whisper.

      Attraction pulled at him now, as strongly as that first night. He’d arrived at the club late—almost midnight. Andy, the manager he’d befriended, who was one of Sam Giardino’s lieutenants, had invited him for drinks. A social call, though Jake suspected this was the night he was going to meet Sam himself.

      He and Andy had been standing at the railing overlooking the dance floor of the club in the East Village. A D.J. played techno-pop too loudly and dozens of young people crowded the dance floor. How he’d even spotted her in the confusion was a mystery, but his gaze had zeroed in on her like a laser. She had been dancing with a group of girlfriends, hands in the air, twirling. Laughing with such joy. He’d stared, knowing for the first time what the word “gobsmacked” really meant. He’d never seen someone so full of life and energy. So beautiful and vibrant.

      And he’d never wanted anyone so much. Forgetting why he was there and all he might be risking, he’d pushed his way through the crowd until he’d stood in front of her. She’d immediately lowered her arms, and her smile had faded. “Dance with me,” he’d said.

      “Why should I?” she’d asked, her voice cool.

      “Because I asked nicely.” He’d smiled, coaxing her. “Please.”

      He’d expected a few moments’ dancing facing each other, not touching even, but she’d surprised him by moving into his arms. As if the deejay played only for her, the music had switched to a slow number. She’d cuddled up to him like a kitten, and laid her head on his shoulder. “If you want to dance with me, you have to do it properly,” she’d cooed.

      And that was how he’d met Sam Giardino, with the don’s daughter wrapped around him, closer than any father likes to see his daughter next to another man. Of course, he hadn’t known she was Giardino’s daughter, but the horrified look on Andy’s face clued him in that something was very wrong. When Elizabeth had stepped back and murmured, “This is my father,” he figured he’d just made the biggest mistake of his career.

      But Sam had surprised him. “Elizabeth is a very good judge of character,” he’d declared. “If she likes you, I like you.”

      And that was it. With one dance he’d gone from suspicious stranger to practically a member of the family. Weeks went by when he scarcely returned to his own apartment, living at the Giardino penthouse in Manhattan. He ate dinner with the family four nights out of five. He saw Elizabeth every day. And he collected reams of evidence he hoped to use to one day put her father away. His work never felt like a betrayal of her; she was too good for her father. Jake was going to rescue her from that life.

      He’d never asked if she wanted rescuing. He could see now that had been a mistake. “I’m sorry things worked out the way they did,” he said.

      “It could have been worse. At least we’re both still alive.” She sipped her coffee. “Elizabeth’s gone, but I’m still here.”

      “Are you okay with that?”

      “Would I rather be living the life of the carefree, wealthy socialite in the most exciting city in the world?” She shook her head. “Even if it was possible, I couldn’t go back to that life—not after you showed me what was really going on, where the money that paid for my designer clothes and nights on the town really came from.”

      “I always knew there was more to you than most people gave you credit for.”

      “Right. They didn’t give me much credit after my father was arrested. If I wasn’t the poor little rich girl who was biting the hand that fed her, I was the gold-plated harpy who was no better than a criminal herself.”

      “I guess I missed all that.”

      “How long were you in the hospital?”

      “Five weeks. Then I was in a rehab facility for four months after that.”

      “Why aren’t you in the witness protection program?” she asked. “If my father knows you’re alive he’ll do everything he can to change that.”

      “You thought I was dead—he probably does, too. And even if he doesn’t, I fought too hard to keep my life to turn around and leave it behind. Not that I blame you for making that choice.”

      “Maybe it was easier for me because I didn’t want to be who I was anymore. But I still don’t feel safe. Aren’t you afraid?”

      “If I let myself think about the danger, I’d be afraid. But I’ve learned to put it out of my mind.”

      “To compartmentalize.”

      “Is that what it’s called?”

      “The marshal who’s assigned to me—a guy named Patrick Thompson—used to talk about it. He told me that’s what I had to learn to do—to lock the fear away in a separate part of my mind and not let it out, like a file I’d sealed.”

      “Good advice. Did you take it?”

      “I tried. It works sometimes. And then something happens to remind me....” She looked away, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

      “Has something happened lately?” he asked. “Something that’s made you afraid again?”

      She didn’t answer, and kept her face turned away from him. He leaned forward and took her chin in his hand, gently turning her head until her СКАЧАТЬ