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Braden looked from one to the other. “Who is Trevor?”
“Her fiancé. He—”
“Lincoln,” Arizona stopped him. It was too personal.
Braden studied her a moment and didn’t press for details. “I won’t let you exploit my sister for a news story.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that there was no doubt he meant it. “It’s going to get in the news anyway. Why not let me break it? Besides, I could help you. Publicity will put pressure on police to work hard to find her.”
“I don’t need that kind of help. This is a private family matter.”
“You heard the man. You aren’t going,” Lincoln said.
Now she was getting mad. “Why do you always think whatever I do is a bandage for what happened?”
“Because everything you’ve done since then has been exactly that.”
She had to find a way to convince him he was wrong. “Define everything.”
“You’ve gone overboard in the last few years,” Lincoln said. “If you aren’t saving puppies or volunteering to help natural disaster victims, you’re jumping out of planes every week. Slow down.”
“I don’t jump out of airplanes every week.”
“You know what I’m saying, A.”
She loved it when he called her A. It had begun when she was in school and received the one and only A in twelfth grade. That’s when she’d aspired to go to college. That one A, and her brother making her feel so good about it.
“I need a good story,” she said simply, pleading.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come.” Braden turned to leave and then froze.
Arizona looked to see what had stopped him. A white BMW was parked across the street. A man sat inside.
“Who is that?” her brother asked.
With all three of them staring, the man in the BMW drove into the street and disappeared under the canopy of trees down the road.
Braden swore.
The rough sound captivated Arizona. So did his edgy profile. The translucence of his eyes radiated strength. So did his straight, proportioned nose, for some unknown reason to her. A mouth worth exploring. She didn’t understand the potency of her response to him.
Who are you? she nearly asked.
He turned to her, caught what must be her rapturous look, and the tension along his brow tightened. “Do you really jump out of planes?”
“Occasionally.” She was still drowning in his sex appeal.
His eyes scanned all over her face, nothing showing as to what he thought of her favorite sport. “Then go do that instead of a story on my sister.”
While the affront doused the heat simmering in her, he glanced up the street once more.
Lincoln noticed. “Are you being followed?”
“I shouldn’t have come.” He started to walk away.
“Wait.”
Reluctantly, he faced them again. Arizona began to feel contrite. He’d come for help from Lincoln, and she had interfered.
She sighed her exasperation. “All right. I’m leaving.”
Kissing her brother’s cheek, she said to Braden, “Nice to meet you.”
He just watched her, surprise emerging into his nearly unreadable eyes. He hadn’t expected her to back down. Well, she lived with aggressive reporters all the time. While she intended to do a serious story, she couldn’t inflict the same torture on Braden and his sister. She’d just have to find another opportunity.
Making her way down the narrow driveway, she started for her car. The street in this old neighborhood wasn’t wide, leaving little room for cars to pass. The houses were big and close together, with mature trees towering above. All part of the charm.
At the driver’s door, she looked over the hood at Braden and Lincoln, both in an involved conversation. She had to force herself not to go back and insist on Braden allowing her to join him. She could help him. Even if she didn’t do a story, she could help him find his sister. It killed her that she wouldn’t be able to. Not doing anything filled her with that familiar helplessness. She hated that feeling. And she’d do anything to make it go away. Usually that meant being proactive. But she couldn’t now. Braden—and her brother—wouldn’t let her.
She hoped they found Braden’s sister. Maybe there was a way she could help from here in the States. She’d do something. She had to. She couldn’t back off and do nothing. Not when there was a woman who’d disappeared in the Caribbean. It was too much like her fiancé’s situation to ignore. She didn’t know Braden’s sister, but that didn’t matter. Trevor was gone forever because she’d done nothing to help him. If she could help Braden, in any way, she would.
Hearing a car approach, she waited for it to pass before opening her door. When it didn’t, she looked back to see that the white BMW they’d seen earlier had stopped in the middle of the road and a man was coming toward her. Large and muscular, he wore a black, long-sleeved shirt with black jeans and boots.
She began to back away but she wasn’t fast enough. He pounced on her, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the BMW.
“Let go of me!” She struggled, her resistance hurting her arm where he held her roughly. He opened the passenger’s door of the BMW.
He was taking her.
She put her foot against the doorframe to keep him from shoving her inside, screaming.
Where was her brother?
Just then, the stranger’s grip vanished and she fell to the pavement. As she bumped her head on the rear fender of her car, she heard gunfire. Scrambling to her feet, she took cover behind her car and searched for her brother and Braden. The stranger was firing at both men. Braden had ducked behind the tree in Lincoln’s front yard. Lincoln lay on the ground, gripping his knee in agony.
The man backed toward her, gun aimed toward the front yard. Arizona moved to the other side of her car as Braden crawled to Lincoln and dragged him to the cover of the tree.
Arizona froze as the man aimed his gun at her. He grabbed her arm again, methodical and sure. Terrifying. Fleetingly, she wondered if this was how Trevor had felt when he’d been taken.
She stumbled as the man yanked her back against his chest and forced her with him around the rear of her car. He put his gun to her head just as Braden emerged from the cover of her car. Somehow he’d made it from the tree to there. She strained to see Lincoln. He must have seated himself up behind the tree.
Something whizzed by her ear, disturbing her hair. She realized it was Braden’s foot when the gun went flying. The man released her to face his opponent. Arizona stumbled with the abruptness of it and landed near the curb on her hands, yelping with the hard, rough contact.
Hurrying to her feet, she saw swinging legs and blocking hands as the two men fought between the vehicles. The gun was on the road behind her car. She started for it as Braden delivered a well-planted kick and the stranger fell closer to it than her.
The man took the gun and rolled to aim it at Braden.
Seeing Braden lunge for cover on the other side of her car, Arizona crawled along the sidewalk as the spray of loud gunfire erupted.
The next thing she heard was the squeal of tires and the revving of a fast engine. Climbing to her feet, she braced herself by the front fender of her car. Braden rose from where he’d crouched in the front as the BMW disappeared down the street.
Lincoln.
“Lincoln!” She ran for her brother, who still held his shot and bleeding knee, leaning against the tree.
Braden was already calling for help.
“I’m okay,” Lincoln said. “Who was that?” He looked up at Braden, who shook his head, still breathing heavily from exertion and adrenaline.
“He was going to take me,” Arizona uttered, unable to believe it. Why her?
“To use you for leverage,” Braden answered her silent question, his face grim but set with resolve.
“For what?”
He only stared at her, having no answer, at least none he would give. Not only was he gorgeous, he wasn’t the kind of man who could be controlled. Neither was he a man who scared easily. His sister was missing and the man who was following him had just attempted to kidnap Arizona. Whatever he wanted, he was willing to go to great lengths to get it. And he believed he could get it from Braden.
Did Braden know what that was? Did he know why his sister had disappeared?
There was no time for her to ask questions. Lincoln needed a hospital and the sound of sirens was approaching.
Chapter 2
Braden watched Arizona pace the emergency room in front of the uncomfortable seat he occupied, chewing her thumbnail. Still in those shorts and colorful top, she had the same effect on him as the moment he’d seen her when she’d opened Lincoln’s door. Grapefruit-sized breasts. Hooker shoes that he would not complain about. Ever. Her legs made him imagine R-rated things.
She stopped when she saw a tall, thin doctor approach wearing a white uniform and rectangular glasses.
“How is he?” Arizona asked anxiously. He got the feeling she was close to her brother.
“Fine. The surgery went well. Give him the night to rest. By morning he’ll be able to go home.”
“Thank God,” she breathed.
Braden stood while the doctor finished explaining Lincoln’s condition. He’d have a long recovery but he’d regain full use of his knee. Lucky.
When the doctor left, she slowly turned to him, weary with relief. But then a new light entered her eyes. Fresh panic.
“We have to get out of here.” She grabbed his arm.
What was her hurry? He stayed where he was.
She gave up with a breath of exasperation, dropping her hands. “Any minute now, the press is going to descend on this place like flies at a food festival.”
“Why?” What would draw the media here?
She cocked her head. “You try being one of Jackson Ivy’s kids and stay out of the news.”
Her father was a famous movie producer. Now he understood her urgency and felt a little of it himself. If he was going to search for his sister, he didn’t need the press announcing his arrival in Tortola. He also wished there was a way to leave Arizona behind. She might attract too much attention. But he had no choice. Someone had gone after her, and the police had nothing to go on. Even if they found something during the investigation of their attack, it would take too long.
He started for the exit. “I would think you’d welcome the press.”
Her pinched brow told him she didn’t understand his meaning. Everything she did was so animated. Was she aware of that?
“The press hounds my family.”
“The way you want to hound my sister. She’s had enough of that already.”
Shock rendered her speechless for a second, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “No, I wouldn’t. The kind of news I’m after is different than that, but I understand you not wanting me to do any story. What you don’t understand is I can still help you.”
She wanted to help him? Would she do a story anyway? Was this a way of getting him to let her go with him? He was taking her, but not because he needed help.
Outside, he steered her toward his car. “Why would you want to help me?”
She shrugged “Because I can.”
He looked over her petite frame in her girly outfit. “How?”
Shooting him a lowered brow with eyes full of affront, she said, “However. I can help you.”
“It could be dangerous.” He took in her long, slender legs as she walked beside him. Damn, they were hot.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be going, either. Maybe you should let the police handle it.”
“The police aren’t getting anywhere, and I can’t leave you here.”
“What?”
He stopped at the door of his charcoal-colored Subaru, turning to face her. “Trust me, I’d rather not, but someone tried to kidnap you. What if there’s another attempt? I can’t allow the chance.” And she had no idea how unbending he was on that subject. She could argue all she wanted, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
“My brother won’t like that.” But she looked pleased as could be with the prospect of going with him. To help...or get a story?
He’d have to watch her. Stealing a glance at her breasts in the beaded, sleeveless pink top, he realized he wouldn’t suffer much doing so. “He just wants to make sure you don’t get hurt.” Or worse.
“Yes, he is very overprotective.”
“Probably a good thing in this case. What would have happened if that man had succeeded in taking you?”
She didn’t reply, the flicker of horrible imaginings crossing her eyes as she scanned the parking lot.
The white BMW wasn’t around. He’d already looked.
At last she returned her gaze to him. “Why is someone following you?”
Why was she asking? “I have no idea.”
“What do they want from you?”
He shook his head. He didn’t know. The man in the BMW would have let him know once he’d had Arizona. After Braden had gone after him with the flashlight, he must have decided he’d have too difficult a time overpowering him, and then he’d seen him with Lincoln and Arizona. He would have used Arizona as leverage. It was disturbing. What did the man want? And how was it related to his sister?
Where had his life intersected with Tatum’s to draw him into the fray? Tatum had come to see him during her trouble with the government. She’d told him then that her movements were being tracked. Now she was missing, and he’d have to take Arizona with him to find her. She was eager enough for that, which caused him to wonder why.
“What happened to your fiancé?” He was sure that was what drove her. Lincoln had indicated as much. She had a compelling motive to involve herself in this, and it was more than getting a story.
Deep pain sobered her eyes before she caught the reaction and stubborn determination returned. “Didn’t you say our flight departure was in two hours?”
The fact that she refused to discuss her fiancé only convinced him further of her resolve. The story was an excuse, a small part of what moved her. The mystery of her fiancé intrigued him; her determination made him nervous.
Using his fob, he unlocked the doors of his Subaru. Why didn’t she want to tell him about Trevor? Was it still too painful or did she think it would give him an edge in fighting her on the story he wasn’t convinced she’d completely abandoned yet? It had seemed so important to her.
This woman had so many facets to her, and it disconcerted him that he was beginning to want to learn every single one. Intimately.
* * *
At last, it was time to board. Braden couldn’t stand the waiting anymore. Their flight had been delayed and being with Arizona in her blue cotton sundress had tested him long enough. He moved with her toward the jet bridge. Pulling out his wallet for his boarding pass, a picture fell out and fluttered to the commercially carpeted floor.
Arizona knelt to pick it up.
Seeing his ex-wife smiling in what used to be his favorite photo of her and now was merely something he’d neglected to remove and destroy, Braden snatched it from her.
“Your wife?” she asked.
Did they really have to go down this path? “Ex. The divorce was just final a few months ago.”
“Oh.” She looked at his still-open wallet and saw more pictures. “You have kids?”
He crumbled the picture of Serena and tossed it to a trash can near a thick concrete column. He made the hole. “A son. Aiden. He’s six.” That was a topic he could discuss all night.
Arizona glanced from the trash can to him. What he could only call a grimace crossed her expression.
“I don’t want any pictures of my ex in my wallet,” he explained.
The hint of a smile began to push up her mouth. “I’m the youngest of eight. Everyone but me got to hold babies growing up.”
So, it wasn’t throwing out the picture of Aiden’s mother that bothered her. “Never been exposed to children, huh?”
“They’re little aliens who poop and scream and don’t stop wiggling.”
“Most women love kids.” They moved up in the line toward the jet bridge. Wasn’t it a natural instinct for women to nurture? In the office he often saw groups of them hovering around newborns, cooing and coddling.
“I’m not most women.”
“You don’t want kids of your own some day?”
Arizona’s eyes popped in appall. “Oh, God. No.” She shuddered, her bare shoulders shaking a little.
Well, wasn’t this an interesting highlight. Arizona Ivy couldn’t stand kids. It reflected badly on her, and he welcomed the barrier. “What’s wrong with them?”
“They’re on another planet?”
Although her sarcasm was obvious, he took the message literally. He had a son. She didn’t like kids. It would never work out for them. Good to know right from the start.
“They’re just kids,” he said. “Innocent. A clean palatte ready to absorb information and grow up to be an adult...just like you.”
“Great. Introduce me when they’re adults.”
He chuckled. “What happens when you encounter them?” He’d love to see that some day.
“I find an excuse to leave the room.”
“Don’t you mean planet?” She could be a science project. What made some women gush over babies and others turn cold?
She sighed, no longer joking. “I guess I don’t relate to them.”
“They’re kids.” Nobody was supposed to relate. Not on the same level.
“They’re loud and obnoxious.”
“Kid. Not adult.”
“Right.”
Braden shook his head. She really didn’t get it. “You’re missing out on a big part of life.”
“Yeah? What’s that? Exhaustion that leads to unhappiness and lack of sex?”
“No. The moments you remember for a lifetime. The words they say and how they say them. The questions they ask. The first time they tell you they love you.”
Feeling her watch him, he realized he was smiling fondly, thinking of Aiden.
“I can live without all that.”
“Right, because you have a serious career to go after.” And sex.
He wished that thought hadn’t entered his head.
“Which is precisely why I prefer other women to do the childbearing.” She walked forward, hauling her carry-on.
Braden felt better and better about her going along. Whatever had transpired when she’d bumped into him at Lincoln’s house, it was brief and over now. He could concentrate on finding his sister and not worry about Arizona attracting him into bed. Best to avoid any chance of getting her pregnant and forcing her to become one of those childbearing women.
* * *
Sitting next to Braden in first class, Arizona was thankful for the spacious seating. His lean body was far enough away to prevent contact. Contact was dangerous with him. He may inflame her physically, but he’d failed the intellectual test. Flawed, to be sure. Son. Recently divorced. That was plenty to convince her he wasn’t her type. Especially the kid part. A shudder wracked her shoulders. And it wasn’t all from revulsion. She couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face when he talked about Aiden.
Beside her, Braden noticed, his perceptive eyes cynical.
Opening her People magazine, she tried to pay attention to that. Braden’s presence was too strong.
She watched him remove his laptop and survey the cabin of the plane at the same time, as though expecting the driver of the BMW to pop out of nowhere. He was as vigilant as Lincoln. As fearless, too. The combination of nerd and superhero was a curious mix.
“What do you do, anyway?” Lincoln had never told her.
“I’m an engineer for Hamilton Corporation.” As though on cue, he pulled out a pair of reading glasses and opened his laptop. Arizona watched him for a bit, disconcerted over the unbelievable comparison to her fiancé. Tall, handsome and an engineer for a high-tech corporation.
She kept that to herself. “What kind of engineer?”
He turned from his laptop screen, green eyes behind the anti-reflective lenses of his glasses. Still handsome.
“Advanced technology for the military. Countermeasure equipment. That sort of thing.”
Vague reply. “Oh.” She nodded through her discomfort. “Design and development?”
“Most of it’s classified.”
Her fiancé had worked in research. Top secret clearance, just as she was sure Braden had. She struggled to minimize the coincidence.
Then something dawned on her. “Do you think it’s possible there’s a link between what you do and your sister’s disappearance?”
He turned with a lifted brow. Clearly, he doubted that.
“You do weapons designs for the military,” she explained further. “Your sister was a freight forwarder accused of shipping weapons to a prohibited country.”
“Where’s the link? She didn’t get the weapons from my company.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very. The arms her company exported weren’t ours.”
His defensive response spoke loudly of his conviction, but it seemed forced. He refused to consider his sister could have been involved in anything sinister. In this case, Arizona agreed. It didn’t seem likely that his job had anything to do with the accusations that had ruined his sister’s reputation. The coincidence was unnerving, though.
A baby cried from somewhere in the back of the plane. The whine of jet engines and airflow muffled voices and the movement of flight attendants.
“Were you curious about my job because you were fishing for a connection or did something else prompt you?” he asked.
Prompt her? What had prompted her? She registered his reading glasses.
“I could tell you were—” a nerd, she almost said “—a college graduate.”
He stared at her. “A college graduate?”
“Yeah. You know, the office type.” His big chest and arms challenged her claim. So did the amusement in his eyes, entirely too...she’d rather not allow the word into her head.
“You could tell that by looking at me?”
She took in his stubble and the green of his captivating eyes. “Well, there are some deterring factors, but yes. I could tell.”
“Deterring factors?”
Never one to shy away from confrontation, she let propriety drop. “You have this masculine look about you, and yet you wear Gucci loafers and smudged reading glasses. It’s like Louis Vuitton clashing with Aeropostale.”
“Stereotyping, are you?” He removed his glasses and wiped them with his soft shirt.
Another non-office thing to do. Who wiped their glasses on their shirt? She smiled with an exhaled laugh.
“While we’re on the subject, I agree with your brother. You don’t seem like the international reporter type.”
She was having too much fun to be insulted. “You think I’m much more suited for tabloids?”
“It’s just an observation. Sort of like the one you made about me.”
Smart-ass. “Hey, I’m not the one who wears smudged glasses.”
“No, but you write entertainment news and are the subject of entertainment news, like what you’re reading about in that magazine.” He gestured toward the People magazine in her lap. “An interesting dichotomy, don’t you think?”
“Quite.” She wasn’t sure she liked his observations. She knew a lot of the people she read about. It was sort of like social media to her.
“Why’d you get into it anyway?”
“Jackson Ivy’s daughter...?” Her levity fell flat. The fun was over.
This was getting too close to personal pains she’d rather not stir up. If she explained why she’d made her observation and where it had come from, she’d have to tell him about her fiancé.
“The media will follow you no matter what you do,” he said. “So why not do something you love?”
What did she love? She thought awhile and nothing came to her other than her undying desire to be recognized as herself rather than Jackson Ivy’s daughter. “My brother thinks I should start a nonprofit organization that takes crime victims skydiving or other high adventures. His version of entertainment that would suit me. Dad would back me.”
“I’d get in on that,” Braden said.
She took in his profile as he typed on his laptop. Would he? Which part? The organization or her dad backing it? “I want to make it on my own. You skydive?”