Double Take. Leigh Riker

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      “I’m closer,” he admitted, “but not there yet.”

      His steady gaze made Cameron’s eyes lower. Her pulse drummed with tension, and something more. She didn’t want to acknowledge the effect that blue gaze was having on her, yet his hot, hungry stare made her tremble inside. Desire flowed, thick and heavy, in her veins before Cameron pushed the response aside like an unwanted thought. This was Ransom. If he chose to believe she and her father were thieves like Destina, she couldn’t prevent it. She didn’t need to like him for it, though. She didn’t need to feel tainted herself.

      Wasn’t it enough for him, for the U.S. Marshals, that in the end her father had given his life for justice? To accuse him now, when he could no longer defend himself, of stealing…to accuse her…

      “Tell me one thing, Deputy Marshal. How did Destina’s men find my father in Denver?”

      “I couldn’t say.” He frowned, his blue eyes turning even darker. “Unless you tipped someone off.”

      Fresh anger boiled inside her. “There is no way I would lead anyone—most of all, Destina or his men—to my father. We had an elaborate system for communication, which we used as seldom as possible and always with extreme caution. It was foolproof.”

      “Apparently not.”

      “How dare you—” Unable to go on, she paced the room. “As for the missing money, I know nothing about it.”

      “Destina must think you do.”

      “And so do you,” she said to him.

      Not answering, he studied the living room again. “Your decor doesn’t look too comfortable. Is there a spare bed I can borrow for the night?”

      Cameron’s heart lurched. She had only one bed—actually, a new mattress but on the floor. Next payday she’d buy the frame, then, eventually, a headboard. In the meantime she’d lived too much of her life under the U.S. Marshals. Now, she was done with that.

      “Forget it. You’re not staying here.”

      “How about a sleeping bag?” He tested the carpet’s softness with a foot.

      “I don’t have one.” Cameron flung open the door and pointed a finger. “Out.”

      Ransom didn’t budge. “Look, until we can build a case against Destina and he’s back behind bars, I’m going to protect you. Like it or not.” He stared at her. “Until that money is entered as evidence.”

      That evidence—which Ransom thought she was part of—seemed more important to him than it did to Cameron, who despised Destina with her very soul. He had ruined her childhood, destroyed her family, shattered her father and caused her mother’s death from overwork and a broken heart. That didn’t mean she believed Ransom.

      “Do you have a court order?”

      “Do I need one?”

      “Definitely. Yes.” Cameron urged him into the hall. “Otherwise, I’m finished with government protection.” And you. “If you remember, the last time we talked was by phone after Dad died. I wanted it to be the last time. Thanks—again—for your condolences.”

      Again, he hesitated then apparently changed his mind. His tone gentled. “I told you then I was with James when he died. And I’ve been thinking about what he said. I’ve decided that with his last words he was warning me—warning you.”

      Cameron’s mouth trembled. Oh God, Dad. None of what Ransom had said thus far could be true. James wasn’t a thief. She wasn’t in danger.

      “He said your name,” Ransom reminded her, his haunted blue eyes on hers. “And something else.” He paused, as if he didn’t want to finish. “He said ‘Ven.’”

      “Meaning Destina?” Her blood chilled.

      “Think about it.”

      But to her surprise, Ransom didn’t argue about staying. He took out a small pad, scribbled on it, then tore off the sheet and handed it to her.

      “My cell phone number,” he said, “and the place where I’m staying—with a friend from the NYPD.” Then he stepped into the elevator and, with the closing doors, disappeared—as if he, not Cameron, had vanished into Witness Protection.

      Slowly, she crumpled the piece of paper.

      She had the uneasy feeling she hadn’t seen the last of him.

      Chapter Two

      Blood dripped from her fingers.

      The room spun around her and Cameron stared down at the knife she’d dropped on the counter. Her new employer’s personal assistant looked at the accident scene. And swallowed.

      “I can’t believe I was that stupid,” Cameron said, her assurance seeming to come from a distance. This was all Ransom’s fault, she wanted to think. Ven… I’ve decided he was…warning you. She hadn’t slept at all last night after Ransom left but had startled awake at every sound. It was only the afternoon but she felt bone-tired. “You’d think I never attended culinary school, or learned how to cut an onion without dicing my own finger.”

      Grace Jennings paled another shade. She wrung her hands. “Should I call 911?”

      “No, of course not.”

      “Then let me get the first-aid kit.”

      While she was gone, Cameron grabbed a towel. Her heart was thumping, but she breathed deeply to get it under control. It wasn’t only Ransom who troubled her. She couldn’t seem to do her job today without thinking about her father.

      After holding the two fingers that she’d clipped with the sharp blade under cold running water, she accepted a pair of bandages from Grace, who still looked as if she was about to faint.

      Cameron hoped she wouldn’t pass out herself. She hadn’t seen Grace leave the kitchen of Emerald Greer’s large coop apartment, hadn’t heard her come back. Grace moved like a ghost. Or Cameron felt too shocked by her own negligence on top of her anger at Ransom to register anything but pain. Her fingers began to pulse with it.

      “Hand me that bowl of zucchini, please.” She was still shaking but hoped Grace didn’t notice, Emerald Greer either if she happened to appear at just the wrong moment. Cameron shot a glance at the kitchen doorway but with relief found it empty. She added green squash to the other fresh vegetables sautéing on the industrial-style range, and another enticing aroma wafted upward into the warm, moist air.

      Maybe she shouldn’t have tried to work. But activity seemed preferable to pacing her apartment all day, fretting. Or remembering Ransom.

      He wasn’t easy to forget. Or to ignore, for that matter. She tried to think objectively. Broad shoulders, lean build, long legs, well-muscled arms and strong hands…he had a powerful physique, but so did other men. Ransom’s masculine appeal didn’t stop there. Her first sight of him last night might have stolen her breath, not to mention her will. His sensual mouth and piercing blue eyes could melt any woman’s СКАЧАТЬ