A Perfect Storm
Page 118
Annnnndddd…Joel the artist was back.
“Geeze Louise.” Arizona collected the gun from the downed guard—who was moaning, so apparently alive—and then kicked Joel’s gun well out of his reach.
A glance back at Quinto showed him staring at her in awe. “You okay?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, I am okay.”
She hunkered down in front of Joel. “What about you, buddy? You okay?”
Suddenly Spencer was there, bolting through the door. He made quite the entrance, all decked out in weaponry, a bulletproof vest, his gun aimed, his face set, ready for…anything.
Joel screamed again, but she understood that.
Spencer was a large, dark force, heaving in rage. He looked really, really awesome.
“Wow,” Arizona said to Joel. “Will you look at that?”
Spencer stopped short at seeing her position in front of Joel. He began to breathe hard.
Slowly, Arizona stood. She felt…well, awkward. She nodded at his loaded ammo belt. “Got your party dress on, I see. Expecting trouble?”
He pulled his attention from her to survey the room, taking in Quinto, then the fallen body on the floor, with a glance. His gaze came back to her face, searching her expression before going all over her body. His eyes narrowed, and he started toward her with a heavy stride.
Arizona blurted, “There are other women. At his house. Quinto knows where it is.”
Spencer halted again.
Quin nodded fast.
She gestured at Joel with the bloody knife. “He’s…well, he’s nuts. Totally whacko.” She winced. “You can’t kill him, okay?”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Oh.” And here she’d been all set to be noble and defend the jerk. Sort of took the wind out of her sails. “Well…good.”
“I figured if you needed him dead, you’d have taken care of that.”
“Um, yeah, I would have.” Was he serious? Did he truly trust her to make that call? Thinking about that, she said, “Can you maybe tell the others not to kill anyone, either? I mean, it’d be so messy and everything—”
In one long stride, Spencer reached her and gathered her into his arms.
“I’m a mess!” she protested, already knowing she’d get blood on his shirt and on him.
“You’re mine,” he said in return.
Okay, hold the phone. She drew in air to ask him what the hell that meant, but he hugged her tight, so tight she could barely breathe, much less talk.
Her head protested, but really, her heart liked it just fine.
“You disarmed the wounded goon?” Spencer quietly asked.
She squeaked, “Yup.”
“The crazy guy is unarmed?” He kissed her temple, her ear.
“I took his gun, so, yeah.”
His big hands opened on her back, stroking, cuddling, then squeezing again. “And the other one, he’s not a threat?”
She shook her head.
Jackson came in then. He was dressed much the same as Spencer—kick-ass and prepared.
His presence in the small building meant that they’d already “secured” the guards.
He saw them and rolled his eyes. “So what are we doing here?”
Spencer eased her back, cupped her face in his hands and smoothed her hair. “Do you have a concussion?”
“Eh…probably,” she admitted. “I’m a hair away from chucking, seeing two of you, and I’ve got a wingding of a headache.”
He groaned and kissed her forehead. “What do you want them to do? Tell me quick, so I can get you to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” But she didn’t want to go to the hospital. She needed to get to Joel’s house, she needed to see about the women he held captive. She needed—
“Shh. Give your orders, honey. It’s your call. I understand that.”
“You do?”
“I’m not a slow learner.” He gave her a look of reprimand. “The purpose of your note was crystal clear.”
Ho boy. Yeahhhh…she’d meant it to be a statement: she was available if he wanted her, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, completely alter her psyche. She was who she was, formed by life experiences and a strong personality, and an even stronger will to make a difference. She’d try to buffer her take-charge attitude, but she could never become a mere observer.
“I, uh…” She cleared her throat, certain that she wanted to go on seeing him and not too proud to say so. “If you were interested, I could maybe meet you halfway.”
“One thing at a time, honey.” Spencer gave her a gentle smile. “The task force agent is on his way with a team, and so is the ambulance. I’m holding on by a thread, so you will go to the hospital. Okay?”
Seeking a little guidance, she looked toward Jackson, but he’d already pulled off his shirt to swaddle Joel’s arm. “Where are the guys?”
“Awaiting instructions.” Jackson glanced at her. “But since you were preoccupied…I’m assuming you don’t want him to bleed to death?”
With Jackson looming over him, Joel looked ready to swoon. Arizona waved a hand for Jackson to continue and turned back to Spencer.
Damn it, why did she feel shy? She didn’t know what any of this meant, and she hated being unsure. She made to push her hair from her face—and Spencer sucked in air.
“Jesus.” He caught her hands, lifting them for a closer scrutiny.
“Geeze Louise.” Arizona collected the gun from the downed guard—who was moaning, so apparently alive—and then kicked Joel’s gun well out of his reach.
A glance back at Quinto showed him staring at her in awe. “You okay?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, I am okay.”
She hunkered down in front of Joel. “What about you, buddy? You okay?”
Suddenly Spencer was there, bolting through the door. He made quite the entrance, all decked out in weaponry, a bulletproof vest, his gun aimed, his face set, ready for…anything.
Joel screamed again, but she understood that.
Spencer was a large, dark force, heaving in rage. He looked really, really awesome.
“Wow,” Arizona said to Joel. “Will you look at that?”
Spencer stopped short at seeing her position in front of Joel. He began to breathe hard.
Slowly, Arizona stood. She felt…well, awkward. She nodded at his loaded ammo belt. “Got your party dress on, I see. Expecting trouble?”
He pulled his attention from her to survey the room, taking in Quinto, then the fallen body on the floor, with a glance. His gaze came back to her face, searching her expression before going all over her body. His eyes narrowed, and he started toward her with a heavy stride.
Arizona blurted, “There are other women. At his house. Quinto knows where it is.”
Spencer halted again.
Quin nodded fast.
She gestured at Joel with the bloody knife. “He’s…well, he’s nuts. Totally whacko.” She winced. “You can’t kill him, okay?”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Oh.” And here she’d been all set to be noble and defend the jerk. Sort of took the wind out of her sails. “Well…good.”
“I figured if you needed him dead, you’d have taken care of that.”
“Um, yeah, I would have.” Was he serious? Did he truly trust her to make that call? Thinking about that, she said, “Can you maybe tell the others not to kill anyone, either? I mean, it’d be so messy and everything—”
In one long stride, Spencer reached her and gathered her into his arms.
“I’m a mess!” she protested, already knowing she’d get blood on his shirt and on him.
“You’re mine,” he said in return.
Okay, hold the phone. She drew in air to ask him what the hell that meant, but he hugged her tight, so tight she could barely breathe, much less talk.
Her head protested, but really, her heart liked it just fine.
“You disarmed the wounded goon?” Spencer quietly asked.
She squeaked, “Yup.”
“The crazy guy is unarmed?” He kissed her temple, her ear.
“I took his gun, so, yeah.”
His big hands opened on her back, stroking, cuddling, then squeezing again. “And the other one, he’s not a threat?”
She shook her head.
Jackson came in then. He was dressed much the same as Spencer—kick-ass and prepared.
His presence in the small building meant that they’d already “secured” the guards.
He saw them and rolled his eyes. “So what are we doing here?”
Spencer eased her back, cupped her face in his hands and smoothed her hair. “Do you have a concussion?”
“Eh…probably,” she admitted. “I’m a hair away from chucking, seeing two of you, and I’ve got a wingding of a headache.”
He groaned and kissed her forehead. “What do you want them to do? Tell me quick, so I can get you to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” But she didn’t want to go to the hospital. She needed to get to Joel’s house, she needed to see about the women he held captive. She needed—
“Shh. Give your orders, honey. It’s your call. I understand that.”
“You do?”
“I’m not a slow learner.” He gave her a look of reprimand. “The purpose of your note was crystal clear.”
Ho boy. Yeahhhh…she’d meant it to be a statement: she was available if he wanted her, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, completely alter her psyche. She was who she was, formed by life experiences and a strong personality, and an even stronger will to make a difference. She’d try to buffer her take-charge attitude, but she could never become a mere observer.
“I, uh…” She cleared her throat, certain that she wanted to go on seeing him and not too proud to say so. “If you were interested, I could maybe meet you halfway.”
“One thing at a time, honey.” Spencer gave her a gentle smile. “The task force agent is on his way with a team, and so is the ambulance. I’m holding on by a thread, so you will go to the hospital. Okay?”
Seeking a little guidance, she looked toward Jackson, but he’d already pulled off his shirt to swaddle Joel’s arm. “Where are the guys?”
“Awaiting instructions.” Jackson glanced at her. “But since you were preoccupied…I’m assuming you don’t want him to bleed to death?”
With Jackson looming over him, Joel looked ready to swoon. Arizona waved a hand for Jackson to continue and turned back to Spencer.
Damn it, why did she feel shy? She didn’t know what any of this meant, and she hated being unsure. She made to push her hair from her face—and Spencer sucked in air.
“Jesus.” He caught her hands, lifting them for a closer scrutiny.
