Читать книгу: «Daddy Devastating»
Daddy Devastating
Delores Fossen
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Copyright
Chapter One
San Saba, Texas
Russ Gentry cursed under his breath when the brunette stepped through the doors of the Silver Dollar bar.
Hell.
She’d followed him.
He had spotted her about fifteen minutes earlier on the walk from his hotel to the bar. She had trailed along behind him in her car, inching up the street, as if he were too stupid or blind to notice her or her sleek silver Jaguar. He had decided to ignore her for the time being anyway, because he’d hoped she was lost.
Obviously not.
Now, he had two questions—who was she? And was this about to turn even more dangerous than it already was?
He watched her from over the top of the bottle of Lone Star beer that the bartender had just served him. She was tall—five-nine, or better—and she was clutching a key ring that had a small can of pepper spray hooked onto it. There was a thin, gold-colored purse tucked beneath her arm, but it didn’t have any telltale bulges of a weapon, and her snug blue dress skimmed over her curvy body, so that carrying concealed would have been next to impossible.
Heck, in that dress concealing a paper-thin nicotine patch would have been a challenge. It was a garment obviously meant to keep her cool on a scalding-hot Texas day.
It did the opposite of making him cool.
Under different circumstances, Russ might have taken the time to savor the view, and he might have even made an attempt to hit on her.
But this wasn’t different circumstances.
He’d learned the hard way that even a momentary lapse of concentration could have deadly results. As a reminder of that, he rubbed his fingers over the scar just to the left of his heart. The reminder, however, didn’t help when the woman made eye contact.
With Willie Nelson blaring from the jukebox, she wended her way through the customers seated at the mismatched tables scattered around the room. The neon sign on the wall that advertised tequila flashed an assortment of tawdry colors over her.
Without taking her gaze from him, she stopped only a few inches away. Close enough for Russ to catch her scent. She smelled high priced and looked high maintenance.
“We need to talk,” she said, and slid onto the barstool next to him, her silky dress whispering against the leather seat.
Oh, man. Keeping her here would hardly encourage his informant to make contact. Hell, the only thing her presence would do was create problems for him.
“I’m not interested, darlin’,” Russ grumbled, hoping that his surly attitude would cause her to leave.
It didn’t.
“Well, I’m interested in you,” she said, her voice much louder than Willie’s.
In fact, she was loud enough to attract the few customers who hadn’t already noticed her when she walked in. Of course, with her sex-against-the-bathroom-wall body, Russ figured she’d likely caught the attention of every one of the male patrons.
He eased his beer down onto the bar and turned slightly, so he could look her in the eyes. “Back off,” he warned, under his breath.
“I can’t.”
Okay. He hadn’t expected her to say that or ignore his warning.
Her clothes, the sleek sable-colored hair that tumbled onto her shoulders and even her tone might have screamed that she was confident about what she was doing, or about to do, but just beneath those ice-blue eyes was deeply rooted concern. And fear.
That put Russ on full alert.
“Look,” he whispered. “This is no place for you. Leave.”
She huffed and took the purse from beneath her arm. When she reached inside, Russ caught onto her hand. And got an uneasy thought.
“You can’t be Milo,” he mumbled. Because from what he’d been told about the would-be contact, Milo was a forty-something-year-old male. Of course, his source could have been wrong.
She stiffened slightly, looked more than a little confused, but it lasted just seconds, before she pushed off his grip. “I’m Julia Howell.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t press her for more information. If she was Milo, or Milo’s replacement, Russ would find out soon enough. And then he could get this show started. But he didn’t like the bad feeling that was settling in his gut.
She placed her purse next to his beer, but held on to the pepper-spray keychain. “You didn’t introduce yourself, but I know you’re Russell James Gentry.”
Hell.
Russ looked around to make sure no one had heard her use his real name. It was possible. The body-builder bartender seemed to be trying a little too hard not to look their way. Ditto for the middle-aged guy near the door. And the dark haired man in the corner. Unlike the bartender and the one by the door, Russ was positive this dark haired guy had been following him for days, and Russ had let him keep on following him because he had wanted to send Milo a message—that he had nothing to hide.
Which was a lie, of course.
Russ had plenty to hide.
“You’re mistaken,” Russ insisted. “I’m Jimmy Marquez.”
“I’m not mistaken.” She obviously wasn’t picking up on any of his nonverbal cues to stay quiet. “I have proof you’re Russell James Gentry,” she said, and reached for her purse again.
He didn’t have any idea what she had in that gold bag to prove his identity, and he didn’t really care. He had to do something to get her to turn tail and run.
Russ swiveled his bar stool toward her, and in the same motion he slapped his left palm on her thigh. This would get her out of there in record time. He snared her gaze and tried to give her one hell of a nonverbal warning before he ran his hand straight up to her silk panties.
No, make that lace.
But she still didn’t run. She gasped, her eyes narrowed and she drew back her perfectly manicured hand, no doubt ready to slap him into the middle of next week. And she would have, too, if Russ hadn’t snagged her wrist.
When she tried to use her other hand to slug him, he had to give up the panty ploy so he could restrain her.
Russ put his mouth right against her ear. “We’re leaving now. Get up.”
Because her mouth was on his cheek, he felt the word “no” start to form on her peach-tinged lips. Judging from the way the muscles tightened in her arms and legs, she was gearing up for an all-out fight with him.
Gutsy.
But stupid.
He was a good six inches taller than she was, and he had her by at least seventy pounds. Still, he preferred not to have to wrestle her out of there, but he would if it meant saving her lace-pantied butt.
“If you know what’s good for you,” Russ whispered to her, “you’ll do as I say. Or else you can die right here. Your choice, lady.”
But he didn’t give her a choice. He couldn’t. Russ shoved the purse back under her arm, grabbed the pepper-spray keychain and used brute force to wrench her off the barstool. He started in the direction of the door.
Their sudden exit drew some attention, especially from the bartender and the bald guy, but no one made a move to interfere. Thankfully, the bar wasn’t the kind of place where people thought about doing their civic duty and assisting a possible damsel in distress.
Julia Howell squirmed and struggled all the way to the door. “I won’t let you hurt me,” she spat out. “I won’t ever let anyone hurt me again.”
That sounded like the voice of old baggage, but Russ wasn’t interested.
He got her outside, finally. It was dusk, still way too hot for early September, and the sidewalks weren’t exactly empty. No cops, but there were two “working girls” making their way past the bar. They stopped and stared, but Russ shot them a back-off glare. He was good at glares, too, and he wasn’t surprised when the women scurried away, their stilettos tapping against the concrete.
“How did you know my name?” Russ asked. “What so-called proof do you have?”
He didn’t look directly at Julia Howell. Too risky. He kept watch all around them. And he shoved her into the narrow, dark alley that separated the bar from a transmission repair shop that had already closed for the day. He moved away from the sidewalk, about twenty feet, until he was in the dark of the alley.
“I won’t let you hurt me,” she repeated, and tried to knee him in the groin. She missed. Her rock-hard kneecap slammed into his thigh instead, and had him seeing stars and cursing a blue streak.
Tired of the fight and the lack of answers to his simple questions, Russ put her against the brick wall. He wasn’t gentle, either, and he used his body to hold her in place. “Tell me how you know my name.”
Julia didn’t stop struggling, and she continued to ram herself into him. It only took her a few moments to realize that that wasn’t a good idea—her breasts thrusting against his chest. Her sex pounding in the general vicinity of his.
She groaned in frustration and dropped the back of her head against the wall. Her breathing also revved up. And now that the fight had apparently gone out of her, the panic was starting to set in. Her chest began to pump as if starved for air, and he could see the pulse hammer in her throat. Sweat popped out above her upper lip.
“Calm down,” he warned. “You can’t answer my questions if you’re hyperventilating.”
That earned him a glare, and like him, she was good at them, too. It took her a moment to get her breathing under control so she could speak. “I used facial-recognition software to learn who you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“I found you through facial-recognition software,” she repeated, through gusts of breath. “I know you’re Russell James Gentry.”
Russ stared at her, trying to make sense of this, but her explanation wasn’t helping much. He shifted her keys in his hand so he could grab her purse. There wasn’t much room in the bag, and it was crammed with photos and a cell phone, but he quickly spotted what he was looking for.
Her driver’s license.
It was there tucked behind a clear sleeve attached to the inside of the bag. The name and photo matched what she’d told him, but Russ wasn’t about to take any chances.
While keeping her restrained, he shoved her purse back under her arm and took out his cell from his front jeans pocket. He pressed the first name in his list of contacts, and as expected, Silas Duran answered on the first ring.
Russ didn’t say the man’s name aloud, nor his own, and he didn’t even offer a greeting. He wanted this done quickly and hoped it would be. Silas was a new partner. A replacement. And Russ wasn’t sure how good Silas would be when thrown a monkey wrench.
Like now.
“Julia Elise Howell,” Russ stated. “Run a quick check on her.”
He immediately heard Silas making clicks on a keyboard. He waited, with Julia staring holes in him and with her breath gusting. He wouldn’t be able to contain her for long. Well, he could physically, but that wouldn’t be a smart thing to do in public. Someone might eventually call the cops.
“She’s a San Antonio heiress who manages a charity foundation,” Silas said. “Her father was a well-known real-estate developer. Both parents are dead. She’s single. Twenty-nine. Says here she’s considered a recluse, and that makes sense, because the only pictures that popped up were ones from over a decade ago. She’s worth about fifty million. Why?”
None of that info explained why she had walked into the bar and plopped down next to him. “She’s here. In San Saba. About an inch away from my face.”
“Why?” Silas repeated. “Is she connected to the meeting with Milo?”
“I’m about to ask the same thing. She has a cell phone in her purse, probably in her own name. Check and make sure this really is Julia Howell in front of me.”
A minute or so passed before Silas said, “She’s there. Well, her phone is anyway. Should I send someone to take care of her?”
“Not yet.” Russ slapped his cell shut and crammed it back into his pocket.
Well, at least Julia was who she said she was. That was something at least.
Maybe.
Russ stared at her. “Why and how exactly did you find me?” he asked. “Not the facial-recognition software. I got that part. I want to know how you made the match and why.”
She tipped her head to her left breast, and it took him a moment to realize she was motioning toward her purse and not the body contact between them. “Your picture is in there. A friend owns a security company, and he fed your photo through the software and came up with a match.”
“Impossible.” His records were buried under layers and layers of false information. Of course, his face wasn’t buried. But any info about him was.
“Not impossible. My friend is very good at what he does, and he had access to security cameras all over the state. He ran the facial-recognition software twenty-four/seven, until he finally spotted you at a bank in San Antonio. Then he asked around, offered money.” She hesitantly added, “And one of the bank employees gave us your name.”
Russ wanted to punch the brick wall. He’d covered all bases, or so he thought. Yes, he had gone to the San Antonio bank to take care of some family business, but he hadn’t counted on a chatty employee ratting him out. Nor had he counted on anyone digging this deep to find him.
“Even after we had your name, we couldn’t find out anything about you,” she continued. “Finally, one of the P.I.s who works for my friend spotted your face on a traffic-camera feed and was able to do the match. That’s how I knew you were in San Saba. The P.I. came down here, followed you for several days and found out where you were staying.”
That was a P.I.? Russ had thought it was one of Milo’s men following him and checking him out. That’s why he hadn’t done anything about the tail. Mercy. And now that mistake had come back to bite him in the butt.
“The P.I. wanted to approach you, but I thought it best if I did it myself,” she added. “Because it is such a personal matter.”
Her explanation prompted more profanity and a dozen more questions, but Russ started with a simple one. “Why go through the trouble to look for me?”
“Because of Lissa,” she said, as if the answer were obvious. “Lissa gave me your photograph.”
Russ was sure he looked as pole-axed as he felt.
“Who the hell is Lissa?”
For the first time since they’d started this little wrestling match and confusing conversation, Julia relaxed. At least, she went limp, as if she’d huffed all the breath right out of her. “My first cousin, Lissa McIntyre.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you don’t remember her?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Russ answered, honestly.
Her muscles went stiff again, and the remainder of the fear faded from her expression. It was replaced by a healthy dose of anger. “Let me refresh your memory. San Antonio. Last December. You met Lissa at a downtown bar, and after a night of drinking you went into one of those photo booths on the Riverwalk and had your picture taken.”
Russ went through the past months. Yeah, it was possible he’d met a woman in a bar. But he certainly didn’t remember anybody named Lissa, and he absolutely didn’t remember taking a picture in a photo booth.
“Why are you here?” he asked, pressing her further.
“Because Lissa wanted me to find you.” Julia took a deep breath. “She’s dead. She was injured in the hostage standoff at the San Antonio Maternity Hospital two weeks ago. The doctors tried to save her but couldn’t.” Her voice broke, and tears sprang into her blue eyes. “She used her dying breath to ask me to find you.”
He’d heard about the hostage situation, of course, it’d been all over the news. And he was also aware there’d been several deaths. But that had nothing to do with him.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Russ said, because he didn’t know what else to say. This still wasn’t making any sense. “But why the hell would your cousin want you to find me? “
She stared at him. “You don’t remember?”
“Remember what?”
There was some movement at the back end of the alley. A shadow maybe. Maybe something worse. So Russ eased his hand into the slide holster in the back waistband of his jeans.
She snatched the purse from beneath her arm and practically ripped the bag open. “Look, I know Lissa was probably a one-night stand, but you have to remember her.”
Julia pulled out a photo of an attractive brunette and practically stuck it in his face. Russ glanced at it, just a glance, and he turned his attention back to that damn shadow.
Was it Milo?
Or had one of the working girls grown a conscience and called the cops?
Those were the best-case scenarios. But Russ had a feeling this wasn’t a best-case scenario kind of moment. He took out his gun and kept it behind his back.
“Well?” Julia demanded. If she noticed the gun, she didn’t have a reaction—which meant she almost certainly hadn’t seen it. “Do you remember Lissa?”
That was an easy answer. “No. Why should I?”
She made a sound, not of anger but outrage, and grabbed another photo from her purse. Russ glanced at it, too, and saw the baby. A newborn, swaddled in a pink blanket.
He froze.
Oh, this was suddenly getting a lot clearer. Or was it? Was this hot brunette really a black-market baby seller? If so, she certainly didn’t look the part.
“Did Milo send you?” he snarled. “Is this the kid the seller’s offering? Because it’s not supposed to be a girl.”
Julia went still again. Very still. And Russ risked looking at her so he could see what was going on in her eyes.
“Seller?” she repeated. There was a lot of emotion in that one word. Confusion, fear and a boatload of concern. “No. The newborn in the picture is Lissa’s.”
“I don’t understand.” Was she trying to sell her own cousin’s kid?
“Well, you should understand, because you’re the baby’s father.”
What?! It felt as if someone had slugged him in the gut. “Father?” Russ managed to say, though it didn’t have any sound to it.
Ah, hell.
Russ’s stomach dropped to the cracked dirty concrete, but that was the only reaction he managed. There certainly wasn’t time to question Julia about what she’d just said about him being a father.
The movement at the back of the alley grabbed his full attention. Because the shadow moved.
So did Russ.
He shoved the photos back into her purse and gave Julia the keychain with the pepper spray. She might need it. He hooked his left arm around her, pushing her behind him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Julia looked around, and no doubt saw the figure dressed in dark clothes and wearing a ski mask.
Russ took aim.
But it was too late.
Another man stepped into the alley from the front sidewalk. He lifted his gun. So did the ski mask wearing man.
They were trapped.
Chapter Two
Julia clamped her teeth over her bottom lip to choke back a scream. What was happening?
“Lower your gun,” the man at the front of the alley warned Russell. “Keep your hands where I can see them and don’t make any sudden moves.”
The man giving the orders was tall and lanky and wore jeans and a scruffy t-shirt—unlike his comrade at the other end of the alley who wasn’t wearing a ski mask. And that frightened Julia even more, because it meant Russell and she could identify him.
And that meant the man might kill them for that reason alone.
Of course, he might have already had killing on his mind before he stepped into that alley.
Julia cursed herself. How could she have gotten herself into this situation again? She didn’t have the answer for that yet, but she wouldn’t just stand around and whimper about this, and she wouldn’t give up without a fight.
She cleared her throat so her voice would have some sound. “What’s going on?” she asked Russell.
Not that she expected him to tell her. So far, he hadn’t volunteered much, and she didn’t trust him any further than she could throw him. Still, Russell had stepped in front of her when the men first appeared, and he appeared to be trying to protect her. For all the good it’d do.
They literally had two guns aimed right at them.
Julia felt the jolt of panic and tried to get it under control before it snowballed. Not easy to do. Everything inside her was telling her to run for her life.
“Keep quiet,” Russell growled. “Stay calm. And slow down your breathing.” He glanced back at her, his coffee-brown eyes narrowed and intense. His gaze slashed from one end of the alley to the other, and he finally lifted his hands in surrender.
“Who are you?” Russell asked the man.
The ski-masked gunman stayed put, but the other one walked closer. He was dressed better than his partner. His crisp khakis and pale blue shirt made him look more like a preppy college professor than a criminal, and there were some threads of gray in his dark hair. But there was no doubt in Julia’s mind that this man was up to no good.
“Who are you?” the preppy guy echoed, aiming his stare at Russell.
“Jimmy Marquez,” Russell replied.
Julia hoped she didn’t look surprised that he’d given them that name—the same one he’d used in the bar when she had first approached him. It wasn’t his real name, she was sure of that. She’d paid Sentron Securities too much money for them to make a mistake like that.
“And who the hell are you?” Russell added, staring at the approaching man.
“Milo.”
She felt the muscles in Russell’s arm relax. Why, she didn’t know.
“Well, it’s about damn time you showed up,” Russell snarled. “You should have been here yesterday. I waited in that bar half the night for you.”
Milo offered no apology, no explanation. He merely lifted his shoulder and tipped his head to the ski-masked guy.
Both men lowered their weapons.
That didn’t make Julia breathe any easier. Something dangerous and probably illegal was likely about to happen, and she had no idea if she could rely on Russell. Thankfully, he kept his gun gripped in his hand.
She held on to the pepper spray.
Lissa had been stupid, or duped, to get involved with a man like Russell Gentry. Julia should have ignored Lissa’s deathbed request that she personally find the father of Lissa’s child. There was no way Julia would hand over the baby to the likes of him, and it didn’t matter that she would be violating Lissa’s dying wish.
“Who’s the woman?” Milo asked, staring holes into Julia.
As much as she distrusted Russell, Julia distrusted this one even more.
“Julia Howell,” Russell said.
Mercy, he’d used her real name. Not that it would matter who she was to these men. But she preferred that criminals not know who she was.
“She’s a friend,” Russell added, “and she was just leaving.” He nudged Julia in the direction of the front of the alley, and that was the only invitation Julia needed to get moving. She turned.
But didn’t get far.
Milo stepped in front of her, calmly reached out and took her purse. Did he intend to rob her? Julia didn’t care. She only wanted out of there. But he blocked her again when she tried to move.
“She’s not carrying a weapon,” Russell said.
But Milo didn’t take his word for it. The man dug through her purse and pulled out the three pictures inside. He glanced at the first two, shoved them back inside, but the third picture he held up.
It was the one of Lissa’s baby.
Julia could feel her pulse thicken and throb. The throbbing got worse, and she tried to snatch the photo from his hand. Milo held on and aimed his stony gaze at Russell.
“Is this one of the babies you’ve acquired?” Milo asked.
Julia started to speak up, to tell them that the child was her cousin’s, but then she remembered something Russell had asked before the goons showed up.
“Is this the kid the seller’s offering?”
Sweet heaven. What was going on here? Were these men involved with black-marketing babies? If so, they weren’t going to get their hands on Emily. She would kill them before she let that happen.
“No. It’s my kid,” Russell said. “Julia came here to tell me that I’m a daddy. Fate can sure be a kick in the butt, huh?”
Milo volleyed glances between the photo and Russell. “This is your child?”
There was skepticism in his tone, but Julia figured Milo had to see the resemblance. Baby Emily had the shape of her daddy’s mouth and his sandy brown hair. Of course, Emily looked sweet and innocent, whereas her father, well, he just looked dangerous. That’d been Julia’s first impression of him anyway, and he wasn’t doing anything to change that.
Russell turned, angling his body, so he could slip his arm around her waist. The corner of his mouth hitched into a cocky smile that only he and a rock star could have managed to pull off, and those dark brown eyes that’d been so intense just a second earlier, softened.
It was an act.
“Yeah, that’s my kid,” Russell said to Milo, but the fake smile was directed at her. “Julia and I have got some things to work out, but the old feelings are still there,” he added, all slow and sexy.
Then he leaned in. Too close. Julia was certain she stiffened and looked stunned. Because she did. But that didn’t stop Russell. He caught onto the back of her neck and hauled her to him.
He kissed her!
She didn’t fight him, though she considered it, but decided to wait and see where this was going. However, she got her pepper spray ready just in case.
He moved his mouth over hers as if this were something they did every day. He was good at the facade. Very good. And for just a split second Julia’s body reacted to the man who was doling out that one, hot kiss.
And, sadly, he was hot, too.
In that split second, she understood the attraction that had no doubt drawn Lissa to him. She hated it, especially since she was feeling it herself. But she understood it. Russell Gentry, with his butt-hugging jeans, cowboy boots and too-long hair, was the kind of man who reminded a woman that she was indeed a woman.
A reminder she never wanted to feel again.
She slapped her hand on his chest, pushed him away and glared at him. But Russell only chuckled.
“Julia’s upset that I missed the birth of our little one.” Russell stared at her when he spoke. His tone was all light, but the facade didn’t make it to his eyes. He was giving her a warning to stay quiet. “But she understands how important my work is. She knows I need to make a living. That’s why she’ll head out while we talk business.”
Milo made a grunting sound that could have meant anything, and he didn’t say a word for several moments. Julia felt every one of those moments in her held breath and racing heart.
“I have a better idea,” Milo finally responded, and there was sarcasm in both his tone and body language. “You spend the evening with your girlfriend and baby, and I’ll call you about another meeting.”
“This meeting is important,” Russell snapped. He was staring at Milo now, so she couldn’t see his face, but Julia didn’t need to see his expression to know Russell wasn’t pleased. Whatever this meeting was supposed to be about, it was obvious he didn’t want it postponed.
But she did.
Julia wanted out of there so she could get some answers and then call the police. It was entirely possible that Emily’s father would be arrested before the night was over.
“The meeting can wait,” Milo insisted. He motioned toward the ski-masked guy, who then darted out of sight. Milo turned to leave, as well, but Russell caught onto his arm with this left hand. The gun was still ready in his right.
Russell shook his head. “It can’t wait. I have people already onboard for this deal, and they aren’t into waiting. They want this to go down in the next twenty-four hours, or else they’ll pull out. All that money will be gone, including your sizeable cut.”
Milo looked down at the grip Russell had on his arm, and he didn’t say anything until Russell released it. “I’ll be in touch.” And with that calmly spoken exit line, Milo turned and strolled away.
Russell cursed, stared at her, and then cursed some more. “Lady, you have no idea what you’ve just done.”
Though he was furious and she didn’t know if he would act on that fury or not, Julia still hiked up her chin and met him eye-to-eye. “Oh, I have an idea. I stopped something illegal from happening.”
The stare turned to a glare, and he grabbed her arm. “Come on. Did you leave your silver Jag in the bar parking lot?”
Julia blinked but didn’t ask how he knew about her vehicle. He’d obviously noticed her earlier, when she was following him. Strange, he hadn’t given any indication that he’d known.
“Why do you ask about my car?” she demanded.
“Because we’re going to get in it, that’s why, and then we can have a serious chat about how you just screwed up everything I’ve worked so damn hard to put together.”
She didn’t even have to think about that proposal. “No, we’re not doing that. And I don’t care a rat’s you-know-what about screwing up any of your plans. I’m also not getting in a car with you, but we are going to get some things straight right here, right now.”
Бесплатный фрагмент закончился.
