He sat down behind his desk shaking his head. No sense rehashing the past. Mia was long gone.
His office door opened, and he looked up to see who had intruded on his solitude. He relaxed when he saw it was Kenny, his longtime friend in the Rangers.
Kenny wore a peculiar expression. Almost wary. Jack cocked an eyebrow, wondering what was on his friend’s mind.
“You’re not going to believe who I saw the other night,” Kenny began.
Jack grunted and took a seat behind his desk. “Who?” he asked, trying to pretend interest he didn’t feel.
“Mia.”
Jack bolted to attention. “Mia? Mia Nichols?”
Kenny nodded.
Jack’s heart began to pound a little harder. Was she still around? Closer than he’d thought? He wondered if she was happy. He shook his head. No sense revisiting the past. Yeah, he’d spent a lot of years looking after her, but it was time he stopped thinking about her so damn much.
Then he furrowed his brows as he remembered one important fact. “But you’ve been out of town all week working a case in south Texas.”
Again Kenny nodded.
“Where? Where did you see her, and are you sure it’s her?”
“Curvy, blue-eyed girl with long blond hair? Small birthmark on the curve of her hip?”
Jack stared hard at his friend. “How the fuck do you know she has a birthmark on her hip?” His throat tightened uncomfortably. “Tell me you don’t know this because she’s a stiff.”
“No, no,” Kenny hastened to assure him. “No, she’s very much alive and kicking.”
Relief poured over Jack. “So how was she then?” he asked casually.
“She’s a stripper.”
Jack’s mouth fell open, and he leaned back into his chair. What the fuck? “Say that again?”
Kenny walked further into Jack’s office and settled down in the chair lining the wall.
“The guys and I went out to this strip joint in this hole-in-the-wall town a few miles down from where we were staying. And there she was. Onstage, dancing.”
A sick feeling swelled in Jack’s gut. A stripper? Goddamn it, was this her idea of moving on with her life? Living in some seedy-ass town stripping for a living?
The idea of other men staring at her, seeing her naked body sent a surge of anger rolling through his system.
“Are you sure about this, Kenny?”
“As sure as I could be without asking her name,” Kenny responded. “She went offstage, and I didn’t see her again. But I was sure it was her.”
Jack’s fist slammed down on his desk. What had happened to her? Why was she stripping for God’s sake? Was she in some sort of trouble? Was this the only way she could earn a living? He found that hard to believe. The Mia he knew would never sell her body on a nightly basis.
Guilt and regret seeped into his chest. He’d known two years ago that she was better off without him. Now he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t turn his back on the fact she might need help. Like he’d already turned his back on her once.
“Where?” he demanded. “Where is this club?”
Kenny looked strangely at him. “Look, man, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought you’d like to know I saw her. You spent a lot of years making sure she was taken care of.”
“You did right, Kenny. Now tell me where this club is. Murphy’s been on my ass to take a vacation after my undercover stint. I think I’ll take him up on it.”
Jack entered the club, glaring around the room. The entire joint set his teeth on edge. It was small, shabby in appearance. The clientele was not what you’d call the higher end.
He took a seat in the far corner, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. He surveyed his surroundings and took note of each person. Then his eyes drifted toward the makeshift stage in the middle of the room. Basically it was an elevated platform with a few shoddy-looking steps for the dancers to get up and down.
He waited impatiently for the dancer to complete her routine. When she was finished, she stepped down, accepted a few tips and fended off a host of seeking hands.
His jaw clenched tighter. Goddamn, the idea of Mia, his Mia, working in these conditions made him want to break something.
He got distracted when a waitress came by to take his drink order. He impatiently waved her away and growled in frustration when she stopped at the table in front of him, obscuring his view of the stage.
When she moved away, he focused on the stage again, and all the breath left his body. He struggled to breathe, and clenched and unclenched his hands.
It was her. Unmistakably her.
His hungry gaze devoured her. She was so damn beautiful. She was thinner than he remembered. Her eyes were haunted, not so full of shine and innocence. Though she was only now twenty-two she had the look of someone who had seen and experienced far more than someone else her age.
He ached at that loss of innocence. He should have never touched her. Never given in. If he hadn’t, she’d still be in her old apartment at her old job, safe where he could watch over her. Just like he’d been watching over her since the night he’d saved her from her drug-crazed father.
When she undid her top and her breasts bounced free of constriction, his cock hardened painfully. Then he looked around to see the same desire roll through the crowd of men assembled. Rage curdled his blood, effectively staunching his own physical reaction.
The entire performance was torture for him. He wanted to jump onto the stage and wrap his shirt around her, shield her from the lascivious stares of the others.
When the music wound down and she finished her routine, he stood, prepared to confront her. She walked down the steps to the floor, pulled on a T-shirt then headed to the bar. She slid onto a bar stool next to some guy who looked like the cover model for a Harley magazine.
He sat back down to watch this newest development. The two chatted, and she smiled for the first time since Jack had seen her appear onstage. Then she leaned forward and hugged, hugged the biker dude.
The biker kissed her gently on the forehead and smoothed her hair away from her face. Goddamn, Jack was going to kill the son of a bitch.
Mia drew away from Ryder Sinclair’s embrace and smiled up at him. “I’m so happy for you, Ryder. I know how much you love Kit. I just wish you weren’t leaving.”
Sadness pitted the inside of her stomach. Ryder was her only friend since she’d come to this hellhole. The only person she’d felt free to be herself with. Now he was leaving with Kit Townsend and Mac. The three of them had decided on a rather unique relationship, but Mia could see Ryder was more than happy with the arrangement.
“I hate to leave you, little girl,” Ryder said, his face softening. “I don’t like the idea of you being here alone.”
She laughed. “I’m hardly alone.”
“The assholes in here don’t count,” he pointed out.
“How is Mac doing?” she asked, anxious to shift the conversation from her loneliness.
“He’s doing better. Kit’s fussing over him, coddling him like a damn two-year-old.”
Mia smiled sadly. “I’m gonna miss you, Ryder.”
“I’m going to miss you too, little girl.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “This is my number. If you ever need me, ever need anything at all, I want you to call, okay?”
She took the paper and folded it in her hand. “Thanks.”
“You better get on home now.” He smudged over the shallows under her eyes. “You look tired. Can I give you a ride?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. One last ride on the Harley.”
They walked down the hall toward the dressing room, where she collected her things. Then she led him out the back entrance. It was easier than walking out front, having to pass through the hordes of horny men.
“Is Kit going to be angry that you’re here tonight?” she asked lightly as she climbed up behind him on the motorcycle.
“Nah, she knows I came by
to say good-bye. If I know her, she’s at home fucking Mac’s brains out.”
Mia raised an eyebrow and leaned into Ryder’s back as they started into the small alleyway beside the club. “And you missed out on all that to come see me? I feel positively honored.”
He chuckled then gunned the engine and headed down the street. They rode several blocks to the shoddy, run-down apartment complex Mia called home. Her apartment outside Dallas had been shoe-box small, but it had been clean and safe. Two things she couldn’t say about her current residence.
Ryder parked near the stairs, and Mia got off the bike.
“Want me to walk you up?” he asked.
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “No, you go on home to Kit. Thanks for everything, Ryder. I mean that.”
His dark eyes flared with emotion, reminding her of another set of dark eyes so long ago. She flinched at that remembrance and blocked it solidly from her mind.
He rested a hand on her cheek. “You take care of yourself, little girl.”
She smiled. “I will. See you, Ryder. Be happy.”
She turned and walked up the stairs to her apartment, old, familiar emotions rising in her chest. Ryder was just a friend, but she still felt the old pain of desertion. Things she’d rather not remember.
As she walked inside her door, she saw, more than usual, the decrepit state of her apartment. Despair threatened to overwhelm her, and she battled fiercely not to succumb.
Yes, she was in a mess, but she’d work her way out of it. Another six months and she would be free. Free to pick up and leave, go her own way, continue her solitary existence.
She tucked herself into the tiny closet that called itself a bathroom and took a lukewarm shower to remove the sweat and the smell of the bar.
When she was finished, she stepped into her bedroom—the only other room besides the kitchen—and pulled on her pajama top. She loved the silky feel of the material. It was her one luxury, ironically bought so many years ago when she’d planned to seduce Jack.
Jack. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of him in some capacity. She tried to keep his image, his memory from haunting her, but she was never successful. And tonight was worse. Ryder had at least said good-bye. Something Jack had never done. Coward.
She was about to dive into her bed when a knock sounded at her door. A tingle of apprehension skirted up her spine. She never had visitors. Not any that she welcomed anyway.
The knocking grew louder, so she padded out of her bedroom and reached for the door knob. She cracked it an inch and peered into the darkness. When she saw the man standing there, her hand fell from the knob. Her heart raced and pounded, and her palms grew sweaty. It couldn’t be. Not after all this time. But it was.
There on her doorstep stood Jack Kincaid. And he didn’t look happy.
CHAPTER 4
“Let me in, Mia,” Jack demanded.
Mia shook her head in denial. What was he doing here? Her hand shaking, she reached up and undid the chain. Then she slowly opened the door, her eyes eating up his appearance.
He was harder than she remembered. Maybe a little leaner. His muscle tone hadn’t suffered, though. If anything he was more buff than ever. But his eyes. They burned holes right through her, eliciting a frightened shiver.
“I always wondered what I’d say if I ever saw you again,” she said softly. “Now I realize I have nothing at all to say to you.”
She accentuated her bold statement by slamming the door in his face and quickly bolting the lock. She jiggled the chain in place and backed away from the door.
Jack pounded fiercely. “Damn it, Mia, let me in.”
She fled to her bedroom, tears forming in her eyes as she sank down beside the bed. The floor was hard on her knees, but she paid the pain no heed as she rocked back and forth. Why had he come? Why now?
She was so relieved to see him alive, but the fact that he wasn’t dead meant he could have come back to her, called her, written. Anything!
In the distance, she could hear him shouting through the door. The entire apartment reverberated with his pounding. Then she heard a loud crack as the door exploded inward.
She scrambled up as Jack stalked into her bedroom.
“Goddamn, Mia, anyone could have broken in here. It was like knocking over a match. What the hell are you trying to do, get yourself raped or killed?”
Her mouth gaped open. Her cheeks burned, and anger, hot, liquid rage boiled within her. She flew at him, kicking, hitting and screaming at him for all she was worth.
“You sorry, worthless bastard!”
He caught her arms, easily holding her away from him, but she wouldn’t quit.
“Stop it, Mia, before you hurt yourself.”
“Fuck you!”
She twisted and writhed, kicking at his shins until finally he pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her until she thought she’d suffocate. He held her tightly, suppressing her tirade.
Still she tried to struggle. When that didn’t work, she cursed him, using every word she’d learned in her time at the strip club.
“Jesus,” he bit out. “Seems the only way to shut you up is this.”
He pulled at her hair, tipping her head back, then he fused his lips to hers. It was angry, hot, seething, a cauldron of fire poured over her.
She clamped her lips shut, but he coaxed them open with his tongue and teeth. He nipped and sucked until finally her mouth fell open, a soft sigh escaping her. Hot tears ran freely down her cheeks. For two years she’d dreamed of this moment, of touching him, loving him again.
She tore her mouth away. “Stop. I don’t want this.”
“Look at me when you say that, Mia. Because I don’t believe you,” he rasped. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll back off.”
She stared up at him, allowing the pain and anguish from the past to come pouring out. “I—I can’t.”
She hated herself for saying it. For feeling like she’d die if he didn’t touch her. She ached for him, hungered for him like she hadn’t for any other man.
He hauled her against him again, sealing their mouths together. He feasted on her lips, licking and sucking, tasting her, allowing her to taste him.
Mia found herself backed into the bed. Jack paused long enough to rip at her pajama top, rending it in one hard pull. Then he tumbled to the bed, holding her underneath his taut body.
She didn’t have time to think, to catch her breath, to do anything more than feel the tumultuous wave of passion as it rolled over them.
She whimpered as he nipped at her neck, her ear and then her jaw. He licked where he bit, alternating the soothing with the punishing.
“I can’t wait,” he ground out. “I’ve got to have you now. I’ve waited too long.”
He raised himself off her and yanked off his shirt. His muscles bulged and rolled. Her eyes widened when she saw a tattoo on his abdomen. An intricate symbol, one she wasn’t familiar with, rested to the right and up three inches from his navel.
His hands dropped to his jeans, and he slowly peeled away the material. His underwear came with the jeans, and his cock sprang from the restraining clothing. He kicked free of the pants and crawled back onto the bed, hovering over her.
“You’re mine.”
Fresh anger surged over her again, and he must have sensed her imminent protest, because before she could open her mouth, he spread her legs and plunged into her in one swift motion.