With the bald goon looming over her, holding a filthy-looking gag in his ham-size fist, Sierra managed to look past him, to cut a look in Ace’s direction. In that moment she saw everything in his face. Regret. Sorrow. A wish that they had had more time to explore the astonishing but undeniable connection that had flared to life like a struck match between them. Or maybe it was the unspoken apology for what his roll of the dice was about to cost them both.
It was enough for her to take her own gamble that a distraction might save at least one of them. With a determined yell, she summoned every bit of strength she had to push upward off her bent legs and catapult her bowed head up and forward—
Spearing herself straight into Bald Thug’s crotch.
Bellowing at the direct hit, he keeled over, reflexively squeezing off a round.
With the whine of a bullet passing her ear, Sierra rolled away and clumsily struggled to get her cramped legs underneath her and working once again. To her right, Ace and Ice Veins were both shouting at once—the two men blurs of motion.
“Freeze, police!” boomed a loud voice as a blinding spotlight forced her to raise an arm to shield her eyes.
An instant later the beam was eclipsed by the huge shape of the bald goon, coming at her with a roar. With no time to evade him and no doubt he was about to kill her, Sierra could only shriek before the crack-crack of gunfire brought him crashing down, bloody blooms erupting on his upper chest from the officers’ bullets.
Still panting on the ground only inches away, her gaze glued to the fish-eyed dead man, Sierra heard an officer order, “Drop the weapon! Drop the weapon now!”
Ace yelped in pain, a sound followed by deep, aggressive barking moments before a police dog, a big chocolate Lab, charged past him, leaping toward the man in the long purple coat.
A vicious sneer on his face, Ice Veins raised the knife and swung it downward, clearly intent on stabbing the K-9. Instead, Ace, blood plastering his shirt to his chest, slammed into him with one broad shoulder, taking both to the ground.
Sierra struggled to get up, desperate to help Ace and find out how badly he’d been injured. But figures emerged from the darkness, uniformed and plainclothes, obscuring her view and shouting at her, “Stay down! Don’t try to move and keep your hands in sight!”
The next few hours passed in a blur of pain, stress, and exhaustion as she and Ace were both transported to the hospital in separate ambulances. While he was whisked off to surgery to close his wound, she did her best to explain to Sergeant Spencer Colton what had happened—and convince him that the “evidence” against Ace deserved a second look.
Before she could make much headway, however, a technician rolled her from the exam room for X-rays. Eventually, she was released, and an officer drove her back to her lodging outside of town before asking her to remain available for follow-up interviews.
“I’ll be happy to answer more questions,” she told him, “but I can promise you my answers will make a lot more sense once I’ve had a chance to sleep off the pain meds they gave me in the ER.”
Startled awake by her ringing cell phone late the following morning, Sierra jerked upright—or tried to—before crying out as pain arced around her injured rib cage.
Blinking in her room, where she’d come to catch a few hours’ rest, she thought again of Ace’s surgery. Though the police had placed him under guard, refusing to let anyone see him, she’d at least been able to reach his sister Ainsley by phone before collapsing into bed and had gotten Ace’s sister to promise to let her know how he was doing...and whether he’s asking to see me.
Okay. That last part was pure fantasy. Ridiculous, considering the hurdles he was facing. Dealing with a deep slash across his upper chest from Ice Veins’s blade, what Sergeant Colton had indicated were looming criminal charges and a raft of complicated family issues, Ace surely had far more on his mind than the bounty hunter who’d dragged him from the relative safety of his hidden bunker to a near-death situation.
Before he could be transferred, she promised she would pull herself together and head back to the hospital, where she fully intended to plead her case to be allowed to see him.
Her phone’s Caller ID showed the name Brie Stratford, a fellow boxer with whom Sierra sometimes worked out at the gym or grabbed the occasional lunch or coffee when their schedules weren’t too hectic.
“Sorry, Brie. Can’t spar today. I’m out of town on a job,” Sierra told her, keeping the details to herself of how badly wrong the job had gone.
“So I’ve heard. At work.” Brie was using her cop voice, a sure sign that she was calling in her capacity as a detective with the Organized Crime Bureau of the Las Vegas Metropolitan PD.
“Oh?” Sierra said. Though she’d known plenty of officers over the years, and for the most part got on with them well, Sierra was a firm believer in maintaining personal space. With cops, with friends, with anyone she sensed who might get close enough to eventually want more than she was willing to give. Or to take too big a chunk of her when they eventually walked out of her life forever, the way her mom had the day before her seventh birthday.
“Word is you took down Ice Veins Harris,” Brie said flatly, “and two of his muscle.”
“It wasn’t me.” Sierra felt fear twisting through her. Because that was the kind of rumor that could prove hazardous to her health with the loan shark’s associates. “Ice Veins got tangled in his own feet, trying to slash his way out of a situation when the cops showed up. He ended up falling on his own knife.”
Sierra could still hear the moans, the gurgling and choking from before he’d mercifully gone silent. She shuddered with the memory, thankful beyond measure that she, Ace Colton and the young motel clerk, who’d regained consciousness as he was being loaded into an ambulance, had all left that bloody scene alive.
“Considering the kind of grief he’s caused so many people, that’s practically poetic justice,” Brie said of the loan shark.
“And the local cops took down his thug,” Sierra quickly added, deliberately leaving out Ace’s name out of the discussion. Because it was bad enough that her name was linked to the deaths. In custody and injured, Colton didn’t need more trouble coming his way.
“Well, nobody in the department’s taking up a collection to send flowers to any of the funerals for those three, I can tell you,” Brie said drily, clearly referring to the second goon found dead in the brush, as well. “But are you all right? I’ve heard...some things.”
Sierra sucked in a deep breath, triggering a flare of pain in her side. When she’d recovered, she quoted Brie’s response after the last time Sierra had popped her too hard during sparring. “All right, enough.”
Because in the tough, male-dominated worlds where each of them operated, it mattered, being a woman who could take a hit and stay on her feet. And nobody wanted to hear them whine about it, either.
Brie gave an irritated snort. “I’m not asking as an opponent, looking to find a weakness I can exploit the next time we’re in the ring. I’m asking as a friend here. Why didn’t you tell me you had trouble with that dirtbag, the kind of trouble that sends three men all the way to Mustang Valley, Arizona, of all places, looking for you?”
A cold chill had Sierra’s skin erupting into gooseflesh. Swallowing came hard, her throat so tight it felt as if she were trying to choke down a fistful of poker chips.
“Sierra? You still there?” Brie pressed after the delay grew awkward.
“Where did you hear that?” Sierra blurted, her pulse popping.
“From one of my CIs first,” Brie said, referring to the confidential informants used by the department. “And five minutes later from a colleague, who’d caught wind of it elsewhere. This is big news on the Strip, Sierra. Which leads me back to my question. Why didn’t you tell me you were tied up with that loan shark?”
Sierra’s tongue lay heavy in her mouth, the habit of her silence too powerful to break.
“I can’t help if you won’t tell me.” As Brie spoke, Sierra could picture her friend, who fought a couple of weight classes above her, staring down at her, her expression a mixture of concern and exasperation. “And I can never be a real friend if the sharing only runs one way.”
Sierra squeezed her eyes shut, knowing Brie was right. Whenever the two of them got together, the tall detective would blow off steam about her frustrations over what she saw as bureaucratic interference at work or her live-in boyfriend, Max, who imagined he could cook but always left her kitchen a disaster. Or she’d gripe about her mother, who wouldn’t quit trying to set her up with higher-earning prospects—even when poor, hapless Max was in the same room. All the while Sierra, whose own mother had never once checked in after skipping town on her and her father, remained locked up as tight as Fort Knox, her own problems far too complex, too dangerous to share.
But she was terrified of losing one of the few friends who’d stuck by her since her father had fallen ill. Terrified enough that she finally forced herself to admit, “It was my dad, his problem. His gambling debt. Not mine to share.”
“That’s some inheritance he left you.”
“Yeah...but Ice Veins wanted more from me than money. He wanted his nephew turned loose. You know that homicide where he—”
“I know the one. You brought him in. How that creep ever got bail in the first place...”
“I’m not sure what changed that caused Ice Veins to get mad enough to head down here in person, but—”
“Eddie Harris was stabbed,” Brie said, naming the nephew. “Shanked over at the jail, either by one of Ice Veins’s enemies or maybe just some fellow traveler who held a grudge over one of his past exploits.”
“He still breathing?”
The detective murmured in the affirmative. “Breathing, talking—maybe even finding a way to get out the word that if a certain female bounty hunter turned up dead, there could be a substantial reward.”
“What?” Waves of shock rolled over Sierra. “Eddie’s ordered a hit on me?”
“I’m not telling you this officially, because we’re still working to confirm the rumors, but as a concerned friend, yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“He did this from the jail infirmary?”
“He had to be transferred for surgery, under guard, of course. But slip-ups can happen, sometimes bribes—or maybe the word was put out via another associate. You could try waiting for the official word, see if I could maybe scrape together enough funding for protection.”
“You don’t sound very confident.”
“Because, speaking strictly off the record, I like your chances a whole lot better if you stay far away from home.”
“But what about—I can’t just—What about my Rocky?” Two years earlier, the battle-scarred gray tomcat had marched inside her townhouse and decided he was staying where the living was easy and the canned food plentiful. With his chewed ears and half-feral nature, Rocky Balboa would never be the most affectionate of cats, but Sierra had seen to the old reprobate’s vetting and arranged for the retired schoolteacher down the block to care for him whenever she was out of town.
“Your cat’s going to be fine. I headed off your neighbor this morning when I stopped by your townhouse, told her you’d asked me to take him back to my place. Took a little doing, but we got him rounded up, along with his worldly possessions.”
“Thanks. That’s really—”
“It’s no big deal,” Brie said, blowing off the favor as if Rocky hadn’t yowled and hissed and clawed in protest, as Sierra was certain that he must have. “And now I won’t have to worry about your poor neighbor accidentally walking into who knows what.”
“Thanks, but—but you think those guys know where I live?” Owing to her line of work, Sierra had always taken great care to keep her personal information private.
“You’ve never given me your home address, remember? And it took me all of ten minutes to track you down,” Brie reminded her. “So let’s assume they know already—and that walking through the door of your townhouse could be the last mistake you’d ever make.”
“So where am I supposed to go?” Sierra asked, thinking of her damaged car, which had begun making some alarming noises when she’d driven it here from the hospital. “And how long do you think this might take to blow over?”
“Honestly,” Brie told her, “it’s probably better that you don’t tell me where you’re going. And as for how long...as someone who truly cares about your welfare, I’m thinking that a permanent relocation, and a change of profession to go with it, might offer you the best chance of surviving to a ripe old age.”
Still half out of it from the painkillers he’d been given following last night’s surgery to close the slash wound to his upper chest, Ace cracked open his eyes to see Spencer escort Sierra into the hospital room. Sierra, who had featured so prominently in the disjointed dreams that kept punching through his drugged sleep, nightmares where Ice Veins sliced her beautiful face to bloody ribbons before ordering his bald thug into a black limo to run over her legs.
Anytime Ace had awakened, the new reality he’d encountered felt almost as horrific. He would never forget the sick feeling that had hit him when Spencer had read him his rights early this morning before informing him he was officially in custody for his father’s shooting. Under arrest and forbidden from seeing anyone except his lawyer until after he was transferred to the jail.
But the knot inside Ace loosened at the sight of Sierra, looking healthy and far better rested. In the filtered late afternoon sunlight, slanting through the room’s window, the red-blond waves of her hair were full and shiny, and she’d changed into jeans and a soft-looking, blue-green top that skimmed her slender curves.
Full of questions, he fumbled for the button to raise the head of his bed, only to be stopped short by the handcuffs connecting his right wrist to the frame. His heart sank at the reminder that he would soon be in the county lockup, the only place he would be permitted to see his family members—and meet his pregnant daughter for the first time, to his shame. How Sierra had wrangled an exception to get in here today, he had no idea, but seeing her was a balm for his battered soul.
Gesturing toward his shackled wrist, she swung an accusing look up at the sandy-haired sergeant. “Is that really necessary? Look at that black eye, and he’s just out of surgery, for heaven’s sake. He’s not about to go dashing past the uniform you have posted at the door.”
But Spencer only shook his head, proving once again to Ace that despite his blue eyes and baby face, his distant cousin was one hundred percent serious when it came to police work. “This is for his safety as well as ours at this point.”
“His safety?” she challenged. “Or are you more worried he’ll embarrass you and the department by giving you the slip again?”
“Listen, Ms. Madden,” Spencer warned, his gaze stern, “I only let you in here to talk to him for a few minutes as a professional courtesy to the Vegas Metro PD buddy who vouched for you. Don’t make me regret it. Or ask you to leave right now.”
Forcing his eyes farther open, Ace spoke up, his voice still raspy from the anesthesia. “Hey, you two. I’m right here. So there’s no need to talk around me like I’m the furniture. What’s happening?”
“About twenty stitches, the way I heard it,” Spencer told him, “but I understand the knife wound wasn’t as serious as it looked. Just nicked an artery, but once they got that closed off and gave you a unit of blood—”
“Thanks, but they told me all that in recovery,” Ace said, the memory returning as he struggled to sit up. “Is—is my father in this hospital? Is he somewhere nearby? Could I—”
“Calm down,” Spencer advised. “You’ll open up your stitches.”
“Ace, please,” Sierra urged him.
Ace sagged back against the mattress, his mind still teeming with questions.
Before he could ask another, Spencer’s cell buzzed in the pocket of his blue uniform.
Spencer frowned down at the screen. “Sorry, but I’ve got to call back my captain.” With a warning look at Sierra, he added. “Fifteen minutes, twenty, tops, and remember my conditions.”
An impudent smile made her green eyes sparkle. “Do I look like the kind of girl inclined to break the rules?”
Spencer frowned and left the room, muttering about this whole idea being against his better judgment.
Sierra snorted. “Your cop cousin doesn’t much care for bounty hunters. Especially the kind who leave a mess like we did back at The Cactus Flower for his crowd to clean up.”
“So what exactly happened back there?” Ace asked. “There were so many people and so much confusion.”
“By the time I was able to check on you, you’d blacked out.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “When I saw all that blood, I thought for sure I’d gotten you killed, dragging you into an ambush with my enemies as if you don’t have troubles enough of your own.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known they’d follow you across state lines,” he said honestly.
“I should have, Ace. I should’ve guessed I’d made it personal with Ice Veins over bringing in his nephew when he was about to skip the country. What I didn’t know, though, was that Eddie had gotten himself shanked at the county lockup.”
“And Ice Veins blames you.”
“Blamed, you mean. Because the man is definitely past tense, thanks to you.”
“What do you mean?” Ace shook his head, struggling to remember.
“He was lunging for the K-9 when you slammed into him. Except somehow, the sergeant tells me, in that pileup with you, him and Boris—that’s the dog’s name—Ice Veins ended up with his own knife jutting from his throat.”
Ace winced at the memory of that same blade slicing through his flesh like butter. “That had to hurt.”
“Not for long.” Sierra touched her side where she had been kicked. “And as far as I’m concerned, it couldn’t’ve happened to a more deserving person.”
“I’m with you on that,” he said, his every movement pulling at his stitches, though the pain was muted by the anesthetic he’d been given. “How’re the ribs, by the way?”
“Couple of hairline fractures, the ER doctors told me.” She shrugged, her mouth set in a grim line. “I’ve had worse in the ring.”
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said, reaching out to enfold her wrist with his free hand.
“Do what?” Her arm stiffened with his touch, but she didn’t pull away. At least, not yet.
“Play the tough girl all the time, not around me.”
“I’m not a girl. I’m a woman, and make no mistake, I am tough.”
“From what little I know of you, I’m guessing that you’ve had to be. That for a long time now you’ve had no other choice, and no space at all to let your guard down.” Though he, a man whose future and freedom hung in limbo, had no right to do so, he ran the pad of his thumb along her narrow wrist, feeling the velvety softness of her skin over the firm framework beneath it.
Her eyes slid closed, her sigh shaky. It was only then he knew for certain that she’d sensed what he had, that shuddering rush of air and ions between them, the way the sky seemed to gather itself in the high country with a big storm rushing in. The way he’d always felt waiting for the dark clouds to split open and the rains to bring a desert bloom.
“So your debt’s cleared and your nightmare’s over,” he said. “And you can go back to your life without Ice Veins’s threats hanging over you. You’ll head home and be all right now.” No matter what happened in his own life, he could content himself with that, with thinking of her from time to time, moving forward, happy.
She stepped away, turning her face from him, but not before he spotted her grimace and felt the tension rippling through her.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’m worried about you. That’s all.” Her gaze shuttered when she looked his way once more. “Worried that I did the wrong thing, accepting your stepmother’s offer and that bounty.”
“I’d just as soon you didn’t refer to that woman as my stepmother,” he said, caring for more about that detail than the money. “Selina Barnes Colton is no family of mine.”
Sierra nodded. “She did seem awfully pleased to hear you were in custody.”
“So you’ve spoken to her?”
“As briefly as I could manage.” Sierra wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste. “Especially when her reaction to learning that you had a knife wound was to ask me how I wanted the check made out for your capture.”
“Capture?” If he’d ever harbored any illusions that Selina might have acted out of genuine concern for him, they certainly would have died there. The real question was: Why did it matter so much to her, seeing him imprisoned? Was she trying to hide her own involvement in his father’s shooting, or did she need to keep the police from looking in her direction for some other reason?
“I almost told her where she could stick that check, and damn the paper cuts,” Sierra said with a sly wink at that last part, “but then I decided I’d be better off pretending I’m not onto her, and using the money to pay you back for what you sent Ice Veins. Or a down payment on it, anyway.”
“Never happened, so there’s no need.” Ace went on to explain that authorities had frozen his accounts, most likely in order to hinder his flight from justice. “So you go ahead and keep it.”
She shook her head, her forehead crinkling. “But I don’t feel right about—”
“I insist, Sierra,” he said, thinking of how, since she’d been struggling to pay her father’s debts, she must have little left to live on. And warmed by the fact that whatever happened to him, she would be okay now, safe from the danger that had followed her here. “Keep it.”
She nodded, her eyes gleaming. “All right, then, but I mean to earn that money, from you. Really earn it, helping the police realize they’ve got the wrong man and getting you back to your family—and your daughter.”
He stared at Sierra, his mouth going dry. “You believe me, then? Because that bank teller who came forward, who told the cops that I’d confessed to her that I’d hidden the murder weapon in my condo—was lying. That’s where they found the gun, but I didn’t put it there.”
“You asked about your father right away, with me,” Sierra said, looking directly into his eyes. “And with Spencer, too, here. You cared more about his well-being than you did about your own. That tells me everything I need to know about you.”
Relieved as he was with her assessment, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing. “Have you heard anything about him? Anything at all?”
She hesitated before nodding. “I spoke to Ainsley briefly last night. She told me he’s alive. And here, somewhere, but don’t even think of asking to see him.”
“Alive,” he echoed, gratitude pushing aside his pain. “Thank you. And it means everything that you believe me. Getting to know you, even for a few short hours—If things were different, Sierra... You’re the first woman in a long, long time I can ever remember making me feel—”
He clenched his jaw, frustration surging through him. Because he had no right to be saying these things to her, no right to be feeling anything for her when his life was hell on earth. Only the most selfish of bastards would drag a woman that he cared for into this mess.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m talking like a crazy man. You should probably leave now, go back home to Las Vegas.”
She moved closer and leaned over him, brushing an errant clump of hair from his eyes. “If you’ve lost your mind, Ace, I’m afraid I’ve taken the same wrong turn. Which means right now you’re stuck with me, for better or for worse.”