CHAPTER ELEVEN
SEEING SAHARA’S DRESS on a hanger did not prepare him for seeing it on her. The long red dress hugged every curve and hollow of her body in a way that made his blood thicken.
The slinky material dipped low between her breasts, showing off a lot of cleavage, then fed into a cinched knot that emphasized her narrow waist. A split on the left side cut up to midthigh. Silver heels made her legs even longer.
She’d worn her thick brown hair down, but tucked back on one side, which showed off the jewels in her choker and earrings.
As he pulled her Mercedes into the designated parking area for the party, he made note of the area, of other people heading in and of the impressive house.
Not as impressive as Sahara’s, but still, a mansion.
These were her people, her peer group, and she’d fit in while he didn’t even want to.
Brand glanced at her again. She sat serenely, legs crossed, looking out the window.
Every man in the place is going to want her.
How could they not? No woman could be as impressive as Sahara Silver. He wasn’t a man who suffered jealousy, but if he could—without looking like an ass—he’d steal her away so no other man could ogle her.
A valet appeared in front of the car, intent on parking for him. Brand refused. When Sahara gave him an incredulous look, he explained, “I need to know where the car is, and I need the keys on me so we can leave if necessary.”
She puzzled over that. “You honestly think something will happen at a party? At the DA’s house?”
“Let’s just say I’m not sure it won’t.” He had a bad feeling about it, and when it came to Sahara’s safety, he wasn’t willing to discount any concern.
Brand found a spot at the end of a line of cars that would leave an opening for a hasty exit. It meant they had to walk a little farther to the house, but the rain had stopped before morning and there were plenty of stone paths to use.
Two attendants, who remained in the lot with flashlights, watched in confusion as they left the car. Brand asked the closest man, “You’ll be here for the duration?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can I count on you to ensure no one comes near her car until we return?”
He looked even more confused. “Uh...yeah. I’ll watch it.”
Brand handed him a hundred and said, “Make sure it doesn’t get blocked in, too.”
Eyes a little wider, he said, “Yes, sir.”
Sahara smiled at the second guy, who clearly didn’t appreciate being left out. “There’s another hundred in it for you when we return.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be here.”
She hooked her arm through Brand’s. “I have a strong need to be fair.”
“Understood.” They entered through the front of the house where two security guards checked names. These men, too, gave Brand curious looks, but Sahara’s smile never slipped and since she made it clear he was her guest, they ushered them in.
“How many people are here?” Brand asked. As Sahara had said, he saw men in suits, others in work-casual clothes, and a few wearing jeans and Polo shirts.
In his black pants and button-up, with the collar open, he fit right in. Clothes-wise, anyway.
“Probably a hundred or more,” Sahara said. When someone offered to take her wrap, she shook her head and instead draped it over an arm. “Douglas heats the garden area out back, and utilizes a game room downstairs. I assume anywhere we go, it’ll be this crowded.”
“So where do you want to go?” He didn’t like standing in the open, especially with Sahara turning heads.
“Come on.” Keeping her arm in his, oblivious to all the men watching her, Sahara propelled them forward, past several rooms, to a bar set up in a wide area where many couples danced to a live band. “Drink?”
Brand told the bartender, “Cola.”
Smiling, Sahara said to him, “Party pooper.” She took a glass of wine.
When a casually dressed man approached, Brand stiffened. The man paid no attention to him at all and went straight for Sahara, his face lit with an enormous grin. “You came! I’m so glad.” He clasped her bare upper arms and drew her into an embrace.
“Of course I did. I’m a woman of my word.” Sahara dodged his kiss by leaning into Brand. “Douglas, I’d like you to meet Brand Berry. Brand, this is District Attorney Douglas Grant.”
Douglas blinked as if someone had just materialized, proving he hadn’t even noticed Brand.
Brand slipped his left arm around Sahara, but extended his right hand. “Beautiful home you have.”
Shaking off his surprise, Douglas accepted the gesture with a firm but friendly grip. “Yes, thank you. Brand, is it?”
Brand nodded.
“You two are...together?”
Why the hell did he have to look so shocked? Brand grinned to hide his insult and said, “I’m doing my best.”
Leaning forward, Sahara confided, “His best is amazing.”
“I see. Well I...” He looked beyond Brand, frowned, then turned back again. “You like the house, huh? I prefer the Hamptons. We have a quaint little cottage there... Well, you know nothing is that small in the Hamptons, not in the best areas—”
Sahara chimed in with “Isn’t that your father’s property, Douglas?”
“Yes, well...” He cleared his throat with a frown. “I don’t get away often enough to bother buying my own. When I do find time for a vacation, I enjoy it there.” After that rambling explanation, he said, “Why don’t I show you around?”
Since Brand wouldn’t mind seeing the layout, he nodded. “All right.”
Before they could take two steps, Douglas added, “Sahara, I see Lisa looking for you. Stay and visit, and I’ll bring Brand right back to you.”
No, Brand didn’t like that idea at all. “I’d rather—”
“She’ll be fine. Though it’s been a while since she visited, Sahara already knows her way around. Isn’t that right, Sahara?”
“Yes, it’s been a good long while since I visited.” She sipped her wine. “I didn’t think to ever return.”
Douglas’s smile grew brittle. “I’m glad I could persuade you.”
“Curiosity,” she explained with a small shrug. “I want to hear all about your willingness to work with me.”
Presumably it was Lisa who suddenly embraced Sahara, saving Douglas from having to reply. The woman was already talking a mile a minute. Douglas’s wife? Brand wasn’t sure, but Sahara did seem to genuinely like her.
He resisted Douglas’s efforts to lead him away, and with an apology for interrupting Lisa, leaned in to say near Sahara’s ear, “Stay here, okay?”
“Of course.”
“Right here,” he emphasized, his voice still low, his gaze holding hers. “I don’t want to have to look for you.” In a place this packed, he’d have a hell of a time finding her.
She put a hand to his jaw, brushing her fingertips over his growing beard stubble, then went on tiptoe to whisper, “I’ll stay in this room, but watch Douglas. He’s a snake.”
Brand briefly put his mouth to hers. “You look so hot.” And with that, he turned and left with Douglas, pressing through the crowd.
This was going to be the fastest tour in history.
Or so he thought.
Douglas waxed on about every room until Brand was ready to abandon him over the excess of details. They were on the upper floors, going through an elegant library that, according to Douglas, held a bunch of first editions that amounted to quite a collection, when a stacked blonde joined them.
Wearing a short black sleeveless dress and heels as high as those Sahara favored, the woman brushed back her long loose hair. She was a little on the voluptuous side, but in all the right ways.
Brand hoped she was there to interrupt the tour.
Red lips smiled when she spotted Douglas, but then her gaze transferred to Brand. She looked him over from head to toe the same way a dog ogles a meaty bone. “Douglas,” she cooed, without looking away from Brand, “you’re needed in the garden.”
“Problem?” Douglas asked.
She shrugged a bare shoulder. “Some debate that only you can decide, apparently, but don’t worry, I’ll tend to your guest.”
Smiling, Douglas said low, “I just bet you will,” and then in a normal tone, “Brand, meet Chelsea Tuttle, daughter to my wife’s dearest friend and a member of one of the most influential families in the state. Chelsea is like a niece to us. We’re very close.”
Brand nodded, uninterested in family dynamics when he’d rather be with Sahara. “I should go.”
To Chelsea, Grant stressed with strange emphasis, “Brand is here with Sahara Silver.”
“Oh really?” Gray eyes widened with mock surprise. “Sahara is here?”
“Downstairs,” Brand said, wondering if everyone knew Sahara. “And since the tour is over, I believe I’ll join her.”
“Nonsense.” Chelsea latched onto his arm. “I’ll finish showing you around.” She dismissed Douglas with a glance. “Go tend to your party. I’ll handle this.”
As if he’d been ordered by the president, Douglas smiled and walked out.
Brand decided to follow. “Thank you, Chelsea, but I better get back.” He attempted to free his arm.
She held on, even leaning closer so that her perfume filled his head and her boobs rested against his biceps. “Sahara does hold a tight leash, I know, but surely she can manage without you for a few minutes more.”
Irony at its finest, since it was Chelsea who wouldn’t let go. “You know her well?”
“I hired her agency once, back when her brother ran things.” Her other hand brushed his thigh. “She was underfoot even then, making a nuisance of herself.”
“A nuisance?” Brand already disliked the woman. He stepped back, away from her wandering fingers. “If you really do know Sahara, you know that’s not true. Whatever she does, she does better than anyone else could do it.”
Chelsea leaned in again, and this time she more boldly caressed him. “Well, well, she has you smitten, doesn’t she?”
Brand laughed even as he took her wrist and removed her hand. “If you mean I think she’s amazing, then yes. Hell, she’s the smartest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
Chelsea blinked, at a loss for words. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. “Maybe there are things about her you don’t know.”
There was nothing he wanted to hear from Chelsea Tuttle. “And maybe you’re just jealous of her?” When she gasped, he added, “It’s understandable, but still unattractive.”
She was so surprised by the direct insult, he finally managed to free himself.
Unfortunately, as he headed out the door, she followed, and before he could make it down the stairs she’d plastered herself back to his side, determined to boldly grope him.
For some reason, that made him even more anxious to get to Sahara. He had a bad feeling about things. Concern spiking, he ignored Chelsea and lengthened his stride.
He needed to know Sahara wasn’t in danger. He needed to see her now.
* * *
SAHARA AND DOUGLAS’S SISTER, Lisa, whom she hadn’t seen in a year, moved to a quieter corner to speak. She remained in plain sight, just opposite of the busy bar. Still, she watched for Brand. He was so protective that she wouldn’t be surprised to see him back in five minutes.
“You’re smiling,” Lisa said. “Does the happiness have anything to do with that godlike hunk you brought along?”
Odd how the sister could be so nice, and the brother be such scum. Sahara let her smile widen. “It has everything to do with him.”
“Are we getting serious?”
“Actually,” Sahara said, “I tried to convince him to work for me. He’d make an amazing bodyguard.”
Lisa leaned closer to guess “But he refused because he’d rather get busy in bed? Nice.”
Since that was so close to the truth, Sahara laughed. “He’s actually an MMA fighter, but he’s thinking of retiring from that. Until he makes up his mind, though, I don’t stand much chance of getting him to hire on.”
“Hello, Sahara.”
That particular deep voice, coming so close behind her, stole Sahara’s breath. She jerked around—and came face-to-face with her kidnapper. At first, she merely gaped. How had he gotten in here? How dare he approach her so publicly?
Seeing him in a lighted room, in a comforting crowd, gave her a whole new perspective. Yes, he was still big, and she realized he could still be threatening, but freshly shaved, his sandy brown hair combed back, his suit stylish, he seemed less a monster and more a controllable man.
You can do this, Sahara. He wouldn’t dare hurt you here.
For a few seconds her pounding heart kept her silent as they stared at each other, unblinking, her astounded and him pleased.
“What are you doing here?” she finally got out.
“You and I have unfinished business.” His gaze moved over her, belying any menace in those words. “God, you’re beautiful, even more than I realized.”
Hoping for a few minutes to think, Sahara turned to Lisa—but she was gone, drawn away into conversation with a nearby group. Her thoughts scrambled as she tried to decide what to do, and a second later she felt a big firm hand clasp her upper arm.
That was alarming enough, but then warm breath said into her ear, “Don’t run off. What are the odds of us meeting like this?”
She’d bet the odds were pretty damn good, since he’d obviously kept tabs on her to know where she’d be and when. Her entire body urged her to flee, but she wasn’t a coward and here, in this safe setting, might be her best chance to question him.
That is, if she could get some moisture back into her dry mouth, and tamp down on the internal trembling.
Bravado was her friend, and she turned back to him, her gaze direct and her voice cold. “Get your hands off me.”
He slid his loosened hold down her arm in a slow caress that gradually allowed her fingers to slip free. Undisturbed by her rancor, he casually leaned a shoulder against the wall. “I knew you’d be stunning tonight, but I never expected—” “You dare to come into the home of the district attorney?”
Rather than be alarmed by that disclosure, he flouted polite societal rules by taking a deep swig of his beer straight from the longneck bottle, his gaze never leaving hers. “You hoped to set me back on my heels, maybe panic me a little, didn’t you? Obviously, you don’t know that Douglas and I are old friends.” He smiled. “We go way back. We—”
“So this was a setup?” She had no doubt Douglas Grant associated with unsavory sorts, being so sleazy himself, but to invite one of those cohorts to a party? No, he would never. The only thing Grant cared more about than his twisted pleasure was his reputation and power. He wouldn’t risk those idly. “That’s why Douglas invited me, isn’t it? It wasn’t about him making peace with me at all.” She saw his surprise. “What do you have on him? I assume you used blackmail?”
His gaze gleamed...with admiration? She wasn’t sure.
Then he said, “Not much gets by you, does it?” in a way that confirmed he was impressed.
She waved it away. “I know Douglas, who and what he is. I should have thought of blackmailing him myself.”
Suddenly the hulk straightened and held out his hand. “What do you say we start over? I’m Ross Moran.”
Sahara ignored the gesture. “How do you know my brother?”
With a small smile, he let his hand fall back to his side. “He hired me for a job.”
“When?”
One brow lifted. “Not long before the yacht incident, actually.”
With a curl of her lip, she assured him, “I would have known if he’d hired thugs.”
“I’m not a thug,” he protested. “And yes, under usual circumstances, you probably would have known. This was private, though, and for a while, Scott and I were close.” He gazed down at her. “Close enough that I knew all about you.”
She found it very hard to believe that Scott had discussed her with a kidnapper.
Ross continued, saying, “Unfortunately, when things got...tricky, he tucked in his tail, ran away and refused to pay up. That’s the truth.”
Strange, but she believed him—at least that things had gotten tricky and that he hadn’t been paid. Scott wouldn’t have run away, though. If he avoided the mess, there was a good reason. “What job?”
“Like I said, it was private. So here, in the DA’s house, is not the place to discuss it.” Ross moved closer, suggesting huskily, “Have dinner with me, Sahara.”
She did not like the way he said her name, almost savoring it. “Sure, when hell freezes over.” Something occurred to her and she asked, “Did you twist Douglas’s arm to get him to lead Brand away?”
“Brand?”
“The man who came here with me.”
He lifted one thick shoulder. “You know how Douglas likes to brag. He was probably hoping to impress your friend.”
So he’d been watching her since her arrival? Of course he had. She suppressed a shudder of disquiet and lifted her chin. “Oh, he’s more than a friend.”
Ross’s attention dipped to her mouth. “Too bad for him, because I don’t like competition.”
Her eyes widened. Had he just issued a threat against Brand? She glared. “He has none.”
Ross let that go. “I had hoped you would come alone. It would’ve been easier, but you should know, I’m not going to let anyone get in my way.”
That was definitely a threat, damn it. She breathed more deeply, and leaned into his space to ask “You consider me stupid?”
He smiled, saying with admiration, “Far from it. I’ve never met a woman more clever than you, or more complicated. You look all soft and delicate, but I’m learning you have a backbone of steel.”
“It surprises you that I’m a strong woman? Careful, Mr. Moran, your sexism is showing through.”
He didn’t deny it. “Most women want to be coddled. And call me Ross.”
“I’d rather not. Our...association is going to be as brief as I can manage.”
“Funny,” he said. “I’m planning just the opposite.”
If she thought too much about his plans, she’d lose her facade of nonchalance. “Tell me about the job.”
“Join me for dinner.”
She shook her head and offered a compromise. “You could come to my office.”
He snorted a laugh. “Now who thinks who is stupid?”
“Oh, there should be no doubt what I think of you, Mr. Moran. Stupid is only the beginning of a litany of insults. After all, if Brand finds you here, he’ll—”
“Kill me?” Ross asked, unconcerned.
“You’re judging others through a very small prism of your own character. Brand is not a murderer. But he’ll make you wish you were dead.”
“Don’t let it get around, but I’m not a murderer either.” He smiled. “And so you know, I’m not as unskilled as my men. If you think he’d have an easy time with me—”
“Famous last words.” She smirked. “He’d annihilate you.”
Ross laughed. “Let me worry about that, and you just worry about how and when we’ll get together to discuss Scott.”
Sahara expected Brand back at any moment. Once he arrived, she’d lose her chance to ask anything about Scott, so she needed to change tactics. Insulting Mr. Moran had gotten her nowhere, and hadn’t put the slightest dent in his annoying good humor.
She drew a slow breath and accused, “You’re a cruel man, Mr. Moran.”
“I can be.” He eased closer, his gaze caressing her face. “But never to you.”
So far, so good. “No? You kidnapped me, threatened me, accosted me—”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he said with a small smile. “It was just a kiss.”
God, she wanted to slap him. “—and now you taunt me with info about my missing brother. I’d call all that very cruel.”
“I need your brother to pay up. Using you to extort the money from him seems like the best option.”
Even while trying to soften her, he still planned to use her!
Growing serious, solemn, he pledged, “Understand something, Sahara. No matter what our future holds, you have my word that I won’t ever hurt you.”
Insane. He was certifiably, undeniably, insane. “You threatened to hurt me,” she reminded him.
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I threatened to strip you naked.” His gaze became intent. The pads of two fingers brushed over her shoulder. “And tie you down.” He drew a strained breath. “But I wouldn’t have let the others touch you.”
The others...yet he hadn’t claimed he wouldn’t touch her. She locked her jaw. “You don’t think it would have hurt to be in such a vulnerable position? Let me assure you, it would have been horribly painful, worse than being struck.”
He was silent a moment, his fingers playing over her skin, then he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Dumbfounded, Sahara shrugged away his touch and demanded through her teeth, “Tell me what you know about my brother.”
“I’m not trying to tease you, Sahara. Whatever I say, you’re going to have a million questions. But—” he added, before she could blast him again “—as an act of good faith, I’ll give you the bare bones of what I know.”
She subsided, waiting, letting her impatience show.
He cocked a brow. “You agree, no questions?”
Of course she’d have questions, but to get him talking she said, “Fine.”
“Your brother suspected one of his clients of enslaving women.”
“What?”
Ross rolled his eyes. “If you insist on doing this publicly, at least try not to draw attention to us.”
“But—”
“Uh-uh. No questions.” He watched her, and when she quieted, he continued. “The client wanted Body Armor to provide security during a special event. Scott felt like something was off, so in turn, he hired my men and me to discover what we could about the client and those on her guest list. He didn’t put his own men on it because if we got caught, he didn’t want it tracking back to Body Armor.”
Ah, that made sense.
“Naturally, your brother was right. He always did have uncanny instincts.”
“I don’t understand—”
Ross put a finger to her lips. “Didn’t I tell you there would be questions?”
Repulsed, she jerked her head away. “Don’t touch me again or this conversation is over.”
“End it anytime you want. Talking wasn’t my idea anyway.”
Damn it, he had her and he knew it. “Brand will be back soon. Can you please finish?”
“Please,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I like the sound of that on your lips.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m armed, Mr. Moran. Did you know that?”
He surprised her by throwing back his head and laughing. When he sobered, he teased, “Would you shoot me? Here in the DA’s house?”
“Without hesitation.”
“You know what? I believe you.” His eyes, a paler blue than hers, still twinkled with hilarity. “Actually, there’s not a lot I wouldn’t put past you.”
She didn’t want to hear his bizarre form of flattery. “How much did my brother owe you? I’ll see that you get paid in exchange for all the information you have.” As much as it galled her to reward him in any way, she wanted to know everything, not just dribs and drabs.
After giving that some thought, Ross finished his beer and set the bottle aside. “I’ll admit, getting paid had been my number one concern. Even after watching you, learning your patterns, learning you, I thought the money was the point. But once I actually met you...” To get his meaning across, he looked her over. “I’m not so sure.”
“Don’t be a fool.” He’d learned her? What the hell did that mean? Everything he said made her more uneasy—and yet, against her will, she believed he was trying to be genuine. “Tell me what you know.”
He touched her cheek. “Not kissing you is hard—”
“Don’t you dare!”
“—but I wouldn’t put it past your boyfriend to chase me through the house. He looks capable of embarrassing us all with his bad manners.”
“What are you talking—”
“Word of warning—he should be more careful who he hangs with at parties.”
What did he know about Brand? He’d gone off with Grant, so—
“I’ll see you soon, Sahara.” Ross quickly stepped around her and disappeared into the crowd.
Sahara put a hand to her chest to contain her thundering heart. What had spooked him?
She glanced up to search the crowd—and locked eyes with Brand. He stood across the room with a very curvy woman draped all over him. Since the woman was facing Brand, standing close and trying to get closer, Sahara couldn’t see her well.
Brand wasn’t exactly discouraging her. No, he was too busy mean-mugging Sahara.
Of all the nerve!
Fury hung around him like a cloud, as if he had the right to show his anger while he allowed some woman to nuzzle his ear?
He started toward her, and almost knocked over his admirer. As if he’d only just then remembered her, he peeled her clinging arms away and started forward again.
She clutched at him, doing her best to hold him back. Distracted, he tried to shake her off—without taking his gaze off Sahara. He literally dragged the woman a few feet before he finally shed her.
Sahara had a dozen questions lined up, but Brand didn’t give her a chance to ask any of them.
As soon as he reached her, his voice pitched low and mean, he growled, “Who the hell was that?”
Her eyes widened at his harsh words, and she saw several heads turn their way. It wasn’t easy to smile so casually. In a pleasant tone of voice, she said, “Don’t you dare cause a scene.”
“Tell me.”
She lifted a brow. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
His eyes narrowed. “You want me to go first? Fine. I don’t know and I don’t care. Your turn.”
His abrupt attitude was still drawing attention. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Sahara lifted up to kiss his mouth and whispered, “Remove the scowl, Brand. I mean it. I work with some of these people.” When she eased back, she saw that he still looked annoyed, but no longer ready to go on a rampage. “Much better, thank you.”
His mouth moved in a very mean smile. “Start talking.”
“I take it you saw Ross Moran?”
“Who?”
She wound her arms around his neck so he couldn’t get away, and said with a careless smile, “He’s my kidnapper.”
Brand went utterly still, every muscle in his body taut and bulging as if preparing for battle.
“I’ve handled it,” she promised. “So put your hands on my waist, kiss me and as soon as the party ends, we can talk.”
Brand reached up and pulled her arms away. “This is one of those times where I’m going to be the boss, and you’re going to listen to every word.”
That he spoke so calmly reassured her. “This is a business party—”
“Party’s over. Either we walk out together, right now, like a civilized couple, or I carry you out.”
Her eyes flared. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Expression set, he reached for her—and she hastily stepped back.
A nervous giggle slipped out. Good God, she never giggled. “Brand!” she whispered. Secretly, she had to admit she liked his fierce determination to protect her.
As if he weren’t being outrageous, he asked, “Would you rather walk?”
Oh, when she got him alone, she’d set him straight.
Or maybe kiss him. It was a toss-up whether she felt amused or furious.
“Yes.” Her smile kept twitching in a bizarre way. “I prefer to walk.” She started around him, but he pulled her back, lifted her wrap around her shoulders, then anchored her to his side.
“I am not a sack of potatoes,” she complained.
“Trust me, honey, I know exactly what you are.”
He forged a path through the crowd, sparing any niceties for those they disturbed, which left Sahara to say hastily “Excuse us” and “Pardon” several times.
Once outside, she tried to extricate herself from Brand’s tight hold, but he didn’t loosen up, not even a little.
Gaze constantly scanning the area, Brand trotted her off the grand porch, down the lighted stone steps and along the walkway until she protested, saying, “I can’t keep up.”
Slowing, he glanced down at her. “It’s those heels.”
She gasped. “Don’t you dare compound this situation by insulting my shoes.”
“They’re not practical.”
They were on a direct path to the car when from around the corner of the stone wall encircling the property, Ross appeared. “I like her shoes.”
“You!” Sahara swung around to face him, dreading what conflict might now ensue. Her first thought was to block him from Brand. They didn’t need a brawl on the front lawn to enhance the scene they’d already caused.
Before she could draw another breath, she found herself tucked behind Brand.
Bemused at how quickly he’d moved, she accepted that her intent hadn’t gone quite as planned.
Peering around the blockade of tense muscle Brand provided, she saw Ross lift his hands in a supplicating way. “Call him off, Sahara.”
“Do I look like I have control of this, you ass?”
Brand remained ominously silent.
Seeming unconcerned with Brand’s dark mood, Ross said, “Now that we’re out of the house, I thought I could warn your friend to be careful who he talks to.”
It infuriated her that Ross continued to refer to Brand as a friend. “He is more than that,” she snarled, then gasped when Brand tucked her back behind him again. Protesting his high-handed treatment, she knotted her hands in his shirt...but because she didn’t trust Ross, she didn’t say anything that might distract him.
Believably lethal in tone and posture, Brand growled, “You have two seconds before I break your face.”
Ross ignored that to say, “I’m not the one who was chatting up a lunatic.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Ross opened his mouth to reply, and a whizzing sound cut through the air.
Sahara didn’t immediately understand—until pieces of rock from the wall splintered a mere inch from Ross’s shoulder.
She didn’t have time to react; Brand shoved her down and behind a tall decorative statue. It wasn’t adequate to hide them both, but Brand again used his body to shield her.
“Jesus,” Ross growled, touching a spot of blood on his face where the splintered rock had cut him. “You fucking shot at me?”
Sahara hissed, “I didn’t pull a gun, you dunce.”
“Then who?”
Brand said, “Stand there until he takes another shot, then we can figure it out.”
That prompted Ross to swing up and over the wall, out of sight. Where he went, she didn’t know and didn’t care.
“Brand,” she said as calmly as she could manage, “we have to move or you could be hit.”
“Not yet.” He kept one hand on her head, holding her down and against his chest. “Not until I know it’s clear.”
Arguing with him would be pointless; she could tell he wouldn’t budge. Since the bullet had struck closest to Ross, she asked, “Leese, maybe?”
“No. He’d have told me.”
“Then who?”
“No idea, but I don’t like it.”
When her phone dinged with a message, she tilted back to see him. They stared at each other for several heartbeats.
“Check it,” Brand said, “but carefully. I don’t want any part of you exposed.”
She nodded and, maneuvering carefully, withdrew her phone. She read aloud the message on the screen: You’re not a target. She glanced at Brand. “I don’t recognize the number.”
They didn’t move. She could see Brand considering things, his frustration obvious. “Try texting back.”
She thumbed in “Who is this?” but it wouldn’t send. Disappointed, she said, “Not delivered.”
“So someone can text you, but isn’t accepting replies?”
“Apparently.” It wasn’t until that moment that she realized he held a gun in his hand. “Brand?”
Another text came in. She looked at it, and frowned. Your boyfriend’s not a target either. Get out of there before the police show up.
Reading it himself, Brand blew out an exasperated breath. “How the hell am I supposed to trust that?”
The valet he’d paid came over, his expression confused. “Are you all right?”
Brand tossed him the keys. “Bring the car here. As close as you can get it.”
“Uh...sure.” He looked around, trying to find a reason for their behavior. Clearly he hadn’t witnessed the bullet hit the stone. “Just a sec.” Jogging off, he headed for the car.
“He thinks we’re nuts,” Sahara predicted.
“So do the rest of the people standing around gawking at us.”
Sahara got her head lifted enough to see that they had indeed caused a stir. She surprised Brand, and herself, by laughing. It had been the most bizarre night...
“It’s not funny, babe.”
“It’s a little funny,” she insisted. “God knows Douglas will probably never invite me back to his home.” Not unless he’s again coerced.
Brand called Leese while waiting for the car. Short and succinct, he explained what happened, ending with “Find out everything you can about Ross Moran.” Leese was just as abrupt, apparently. Brand replied, “No, we don’t need you here. I won’t let anything happen to her. Yes, I’m sure.” He pocketed the phone.
“Moran’s probably gone by now, but Leese is on it.”
Hoping to reassure Brand, she said, “He’ll have a report for us by morning, I’m sure.”
Leaving the engine running, the kid got out and held the door open, waiting.
It was the oddest thing, but the text she’d received reassured Sahara. Call her a fool, but she no longer felt at risk. Whoever had taken that shot hadn’t been aiming at her or Brand, but had instead been warning off Ross. She didn’t doubt that it had been a deliberate shot made to look like a near miss.
If it wasn’t one of her men—Leese, Justice or Miles—then there was only one other person it could be.
Joy pumped into her bloodstream, making her almost giddy. She didn’t care if they looked like fools, didn’t care what impression the other guests got.
All she cared about was that Scott was apparently alive.
She wasn’t ready to share with Brand yet. She’d talk to her PI first, see if he knew anything and she’d try to isolate the job Ross had mentioned to her. If he’d worked for Scott, there had to be a record somewhere.
But at this moment, what she really wanted was to be alone with Brand so she could show her appreciation for his caution—and ensure he hadn’t done anything wayward with the woman who’d stuck to his side, a woman, she suspected, assigned by Ross, despite his denials.
What she didn’t want or need was to hear Brand lecture her on unrealistic expectations. She knew everyone assumed Scott was dead.
She’d never believed it, and the text felt like proof that she was right. Who else would both protect her with gunfire, and reassure her with a message?
Peeking around Brand, she said, “If we go now, there’s a group of people between us and the area where the shot probably originated.”
Brand scowled at her. “You’re enjoying this.”
“No,” she promised, trying to bank her jubilation over the text. “It’s just amusing to see how we’ve disconcerted everyone.”
“Fuck,” Brand muttered, then with a quick glance to verify what she’d said, he stood with her and made a direct line to the car, being certain every step of the way to put his body between hers and possible danger, then hoisting her in from the driver’s side and climbing in behind her. “Keep your head down.”
Trying to follow that order wasn’t easy, not in a long dress and heels. Soon as she got in the passenger seat, Sahara reached past Brand with the promised money for the valet’s friend. “You’ll give that to him?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The poor kid barely had time to get his arm out of the car before Brand slammed the door and drove off.
While she stayed ducked down as ordered, Brand sat erect in the driver’s seat. “Aren’t you worried about getting shot?”
“I’m not the one who was kidnapped or assaulted.”
“True.” Once they’d left the lot and gotten on a main street, Sahara slowly, hoping Brand wouldn’t object, straightened in her seat. She smoothed her dress and tidied her hair. “You should know, Ross promised me he wouldn’t hurt me.”
His hands locked on the wheel so tightly tension rippled up his forearms, through his biceps and into his neck and shoulders. “You’re on a fucking first-name basis?”
Her brows rose at his acerbic tone. “I wasn’t nice to him, if that’s what you’re thinking. In fact, I was utterly rude.” She shrugged. “It didn’t bother him. He almost seemed to admire me more for it.” Seeing Brand’s expression darken further, she scowled, too. “Do not say that F word again.”
Brand glared at her. “After all this, you’re offended by a word?”
“It’s unbecoming.” She set her purse on the seat next to her and chafed her arms, chilled now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Her wrap wasn’t sufficient to help. “However, I am offended that you had a groupie crawling all over you.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I’ll worry if I want to.”
Incredulous, Brand took a corner a little too sharply. “The way your mind works is—”
“Amazing? Thank you. I’m able to compartmentalize. The danger is over now—”
“You don’t know that.”
“—and I’m more than ready to explain to you how much I disliked your treatment.” Even though the Neanderthal approach had been a little thrilling, she couldn’t let it slide.
“No.”
“No?”
“We agreed that at times—especially times like this—I’d be the boss.”
“I thought you meant in bed!”
“That, too, sometimes.”
Her frown intensified.
“Tonight was dangerous, more dangerous than we expected. I did what was necessary and you don’t get to complain about it.”
Stunned by that, she half turned to face him. “That’s bull and you know it! Most of your initial reaction to Ross Moran was jealousy.”
“True.”
She gaped at him. “You admit it?”
“Sure. We’re in a relationship—we agreed on that, too, if you remember—but if it had only been jealousy, I’d have found the bastard and set him straight right then and there. Fact is, I wanted to do that. Bad.” He rolled his shoulders as if trying to loosen the strain. “I put your safety above my personal, very territorial feelings and attempted to get you out of there, away from harm.”
Huh. He’d admitted a lot there. She felt a warm glow expand. Tonight had been weird, but also somewhat magical.
Scott was likely alive and watching out for her, and Brand had just admitted to feeling territorial.
Under his breath, he added, “I didn’t know the prick would follow us out, have the balls to approach you in front of me, to dare to warn me or that someone would take a potshot at him with you standing so close by.”
Scott didn’t take potshots. He was an excellent aim. “I think Ross felt safe because he’d somehow manipulated Douglas into backing him. Having a DA on your side could be pretty good insulation against ramifications.”
“Maybe...but not this time.”
“Meaning?”
“Whatever it takes, we’re going to bury him.”
Sahara frowned. She wondered if that was jealousy speaking again. “Not until I’ve found out what he knows about Scott.” Then again, if her suspicions proved true, she wouldn’t need Ross Moran at all—and Brand could do whatever he wanted with the brute.