A Perfect Storm
Page 65

We who? She lifted her chin. “So does this mean I’m not hired after all?”
His hand flexed on the knife hilt. “It means you’re not worth the trouble you’ve caused us.”
Foolish man. She knew plenty about knives, so seeing one, even in the hand of a maniac, didn’t send her into a panic like it might someone else. “You’re saying my value as a saleable commodity just collapsed, huh?”
Surprised by her lack of fear and knowledge of their real intent, he hesitated. But only for a second. “You’re not so dumb after all, are you?”
“Well, ya know, compared to you…” She grinned, reminding him that she had fooled him and his cronies. “Yeah, I look like a freakin’ genius, right?”
Holding his injured hand out to the side, he flexed his muscles. “You think this is a joke?”
Her back bumped up to a damp wall. “I think you’re a joke, yeah.”
A deep, angry breath swelled his chest. “You’re going to regret that flippant mouth, girl.”
Arizona took in Carl’s aggressive stance and dark scowl, felt his mood change as he prepared to lunge at her.
Time to make a move.
Dropping her voice and her chin, looking at him through her lashes, she whispered, “And here I thought you liked my mouth.” To emphasize the suggestiveness of that, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, leaving them moist.
That distracted him enough that he said, “I can think of better uses for it.”
Men were sooo easy, thank God. Slowly, Arizona trailed her fingers over her chest and down into her cle**age. “I bet I could come up with all kinds of uses that you’d approve of.”
Putting his attack on hold, he eyed her. “Is that right?”
She nodded, but he was busy ogling her boobs. She stepped away from the wall. “Maybe if I’m good enough—and, Carl? I can be really good—well, then, maybe I can convince you not to kill me?”
“Let’s find out.” Seeing her as no threat at all, he took a step closer. “Take off your shirt.”
You’d think he would have learned from the broken fingers.
Arizona caught the hem of her top. “You want me naked? Here?”
Anticipating her nudity, he adjusted his hold on the knife, and his gaze went to her body. Murmuring low, he promised, “I will tear your shit up.”
Arizona smiled, prepared to attack—and Spencer’s fist came out of nowhere. It struck Carl in the jaw so hard, a tooth came spewing out.
Euewwww.
Deciding it’d be a good time to move, she slipped a few feet along the wall and away from Spencer’s rage.
And he was enraged. Big-time.
Would he kill Carl? She tipped her head to survey the damage already done. Spencer held up the smaller man with one fist twisted in the front of his shirt while punching him with the other big fist. Carl’s knife lay on the ground. His legs were limp, his grunts of pain dwindling.
“Hey, Spence.”
He ignored her and landed yet another blow. Blood sprayed from Carl’s nose. He hung boneless, unconscious, in Spencer’s hold.
“Yoo-hoo, Spe-ence,” she sang. “I don’t mean to be a party pooper, but we did hear sirens, right? You think we should get going before the cops find us here?”
Fist suspended, he stopped hitting Carl, but his chest still heaved. Rage had bunched his muscles through his biceps, shoulders and across his back. He stood with his legs braced apart, his feet planted solidly.
Ah, he looked so sweet. All that rage on her behalf.
Arizona smiled at his back. “It’s been a really great show. Seriously. I mean, nothing I couldn’t have handled myself, of course, but—”
He jerked around to glare at her.
His nostrils were flared, his eyes glittering, his jaw clenched tight as granite.
Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t pull the tiger’s tail just now.
Gently, she suggested, “Maybe you could take me home?”
On the other side of the wall, police barked orders. They heard the thumping of running feet and the clash of a tackle. Outside, a window broke, a car horn blared.
“Any second now, someone is going to come busting in on us. And then we’ll have to start explaining.” Hoping to reach him, she added, “The guys really hate having to give explanations.”
More breaking glass. More horns. More shouts.
Never looking away from her, Spencer exhaled, opened his fingers, and Carl collapsed in a bloody heap.
“There you go!” Arizona praised him. “And look at that. You even managed to drop him on his knife so we don’t have to worry about anyone else finding it before the cops do. Good job.”
Oh-so-slowly, Spencer stepped away from the carnage once known as Carl.
“Come on.” She said it the same way someone would call a pet. “Come on, Spence. Let’s go.” Patting her thigh as she backed up to the door, she beckoned him.
Brows pulling tighter, Spencer closed his eyes for a few deep breaths, then opened them again. Through stiff lips, he ordered, “Wait.” He moved around her to the door, looked out, then said, “Start walking.”
“Got it.” Feeling lighthearted, a little drunk and sort of…euphoric, Arizona twirled around and marched ahead.
Part of her silly mood came from recognizing, and accepting, that Spencer was the right guy for her. Not just as an ally. Not only for a friend.
He impressed her. She respected him. And she admired everything about him—but especially his ability.