Chapter Two
Blinking at Nick Navarro in surprise, Sasha inched inside his surprisingly posh house, hyperaware that she was dripping on his travertine floors. “You remember me?”
“I never forget a face.” He shut and locked the door behind her.
Because he’d once been a private investigator? She stared but his unreadable expression cloaked his thoughts.
Her late husband had called Nick a great friend…and a very dangerous man. Mike had made her promise to come to Nick if she ever needed help. Sasha was having second thoughts now.
Merely dangerous men could be reasoned with. Even they had limits. Staring at the six-foot-three mountain of muscle who holstered a gun he clearly wasn’t afraid to use, she feared no one could reason with Nick Navarro.
Dangerous seemed far too tame to describe him.
It wasn’t just the harsh shave of his black hair down to mere stubble or the glimpse of new ink flirting with the edge of his gray V-neck.
The T-shirt pulled across his chest and bunched around his thick biceps as if it strained to contain him.
It molded so closely to his abs that Sasha could see his six-pack.
Dark jeans cupped his bulge and tore a disreputable snag down his thigh.
His black leather boots belonged on a biker.
Sasha swallowed.
Like the first time she’d met him, the air around him pinged with life. And violence. His conviction for rape certainly didn’t give her a warm fuzzy.
The closer he came on silent footsteps, the more wildly her heart beat. Every speech she’d rehearsed seemed silly now. Would begging for his help even do any good?
Without it, she and her baby would probably be dead tomorrow, certainly within a week. She prayed Nick’s hatred of their common enemy was enough to persuade him to help her. She hoped Nick Navarro had a good side she could appeal to.
But based on everything she’d heard, she wasn’t counting on it.
God, what was she doing? Surviving, she hoped.
But the fact she’d had to knock on this man’s door made her angry.
She felt betrayed. She’d followed every rule she’d ever been given, believing that would keep her safe.
Instead, she’d been fattened up like a lamb corrupt people intended to slaughter. She had no idea how to stop them alone.
Enter Nick.
When he reached for her, Sasha stiffened. If he noticed her reaction, he said nothing. He merely lifted the heavy duffel bag from her drooping shoulder and slid it to the ground.
“You look tired, hungry, and cold.” His dark gaze drifted over Harper. “You can’t carry your daughter all night.”
His words surprised her. Why wasn’t he demanding to know the reason she’d rung his doorbell so late? Or why she’d come at all?
She wished she had the luxury of telling him that she and her baby would be fine, like she’d been saying to people since Mike’s murder. But she couldn’t afford polite lies anymore. Nick Navarro was her very last hope.
God help her.
“I’ll be fine. But Harper has been sick. If you have a blanket she could curl up with while we talk, I’d appreciate—”
As if on cue, the girl coughed, raspy and deep. Between one fit and the next, she drew rattling breaths into troubled lungs.
“She needs a bed, Sasha. I have four in this house. Pick one and put her down.” When she hesitated, he towered above her, eyes narrowed. “She needs sleep and a doctor. You need help. That’s why you came, isn’t it?”
It took everything Sasha had to stand her ground and nod.
“Do you have any clean clothes in there for her?” He gestured to the duffel.
“No.”
“I’ll take care of it. The bedrooms are down the hall. When she’s settled, come back and tell me what you’re after.”
Without another word, Nick turned his back, pulled out his cell phone, hit a few buttons, and paced out of the cavernous foyer.
Who was he calling at dang near midnight?
He hadn’t reacted at all like she’d expected when she’d rung his doorbell.
But she couldn’t worry about him now. Harper needed her.
Sasha dragged herself out of the foyer and down the long hall, until she came to the first bedroom. Airy, with two twin beds—she could tell that much in the dark.
Flipping on the light, she saw two plain beige comforters with soft white sheets. Nothing frilly. But a real bed would be a blessing for her baby. It had been so long since she’d slept in one, and this looked like heaven.
Stopping, resting, indulging—Sasha couldn’t for long if they wanted to live.
As she eased off Harper’s clothes, the poor girl barely moved. Across the hall, Sasha found a powder bath and coaxed the little girl awake long enough to use the potty.
Naked except for Barbie underwear, Sasha tucked her daughter into bed.
Harper sighed as her head hit the pillow and she fell back asleep.
A fever heated the child’s brow. For over a week, Harper had been ill.
It was getting worse. But she had no money, almost no medicine left.
She feared going to a hospital and filling out paperwork would be like drawing a map of their location for the lethal man chasing them.
Fighting tears of exhaustion and worry, she kissed her daughter’s cherubic face, pushing the pale hair from her forehead, praying a good night’s rest would help cure her.
“Is she asleep?” Nick asked in low tones.
Sasha turned at the unexpected sound of his voice. He filled the doorframe completely, looking as solid and as massive as the door he replaced. She shivered.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“She’ll have new clothes tomorrow morning, size three-T. Everything in the duffel is in the washer now. A pediatrician will be here at nine.”
Again, he’d surprised her. Kindness? “I promise, we’ll get out of your hair immediately after the doctor leaves. And I’ll pay you back as soon as I’m able. I just came to see you about—”
Three electronic beeps resounding through the house startled her. Nick dragged his rough gaze down her body. At his inspection, Sasha shivered. She had no idea what he was thinking.
“Come with me.” Without waiting for her response, he turned and prowled down the hall.
Sasha hesitated.
He paused without turning back. “You came to talk to me for a reason. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Dread and anxiety settled in her stomach. But she had no choice. With a backward glance at her sleeping daughter, she followed.
At the end of the hall and to the left, she crossed the foyer again, then passed under an archway.
A thoroughly modern kitchen awaited on the other side.
Hardwood floors and concrete countertops gleamed under recessed lighting, as did the dark, contemporary cabinets.
A stainless refrigerator stood in one corner, perfectly matching the oven and microwave, which beeped again.
“Bobby Flay, I’m not,” he said, yanking open the microwave door and pulling out two pieces of pepperoni pizza. “Sit.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything resembling a full belly, and this smelled scrumptious. Her stomach rumbled.
He set the slices in front of her, along with a napkin. “Eat.”
Sasha frowned at the plate. Nick meant to feed her? “For me?”
“Yeah.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile as he put a can of beer in front of her. “I only have necessities here right now. Sorry.”
“Beer and pizza?”
A wry smile appeared. It should have softened his dangerous look. But it didn’t.
“Damn straight,” he quipped.
His reply seemed so…typical guy. So unlike the violent rapist his trial had painted him to be. She hid her surprise behind her napkin. Who was she dealing with?
“Look, I appreciate the bed, the medical attention for Harper, and the food—”
“I’m not listening to you until you’ve swallowed every last bite of that. Chow down.”
Sasha didn’t have to be told twice. She was starving, so she devoured the pizza, conscious of Nick watching her every move with those unnervingly intent dark eyes. What was he thinking when he looked at her that way?
If they’d been in a different situation, she would have been ridiculously attracted to him.
He had a rugged face dusted with dark stubble and bold male features.
His mouth was a wide slash of full lips that looked totally equipped to provide hours of sin.
That, coupled with his air of mystery, screamed danger.
Not that he’d be interested in her. She hardly possessed the centerfold beauty he’d once been used to, according to Mike.
She was completely safe. In fact, the way she looked now, he wouldn’t touch her, even if she were the last female on earth.
It didn’t matter. Sasha had stopped caring about superficial stuff long ago.
And however tempting he looked on the outside, Nick Navarro’s blood was ice, according to his rape victim’s testimony.
Even at his trial, he’d never said a word in his defense, simply accepted his conviction with a blank stare.
Sasha again questioned the wisdom of putting herself in his path.
If Mike hadn’t been murdered, she would have been a suburban soccer mom—not homeless and broke and running for her life, sleeping with one eye open to make sure her daughter stayed safe.
Not at the mercy of a man society labeled a violent offender.
But he knew how to play hardball with the people who threatened her and Harper.
He alone knew how to end this nightmare.
Damn it, if only she had some bargaining chip to offer him…
Once her plate was empty, he set it in the stainless steel sink. Cautiously, Sasha sipped her beer, observing his sharp, watchful movements.
“Thank you for the food. I was hungry,” she admitted.
“Has your daughter eaten?”
Sasha nodded. “We stopped at a diner down the road a while ago.”
“And you didn’t eat.”
He didn’t ask; he knew.
Sasha paused. She didn’t want to voice the truth but lying to him seemed counterproductive when she needed his help. “I didn’t have enough money for both of us to eat.”