LITMIR.BIZ

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she had no idea what he wanted.

      Again he asked the dreaded question. “Who do you work for?”

      And again she had no answer.

      AFTER PERUSING THE PAPERS Cassidy had dumped at his feet, Jake packed them up and heaved them into the trunk of his car, his anger slowly cooling. She’d offered to help him, and like it or not, he really needed that help, not just her legal expertise, but her common sense. Even if she had every right to be furious with him, he hoped after he apologized, she’d forgive him.

      He made the thirty-minute drive from Half Moon Bay to Crescent Cove in less than twenty minutes. While he knew Cassidy would probably rather see the abominable snowman than him showing up at her house uninvited, Jake owed her an apology. She’d done him a favor, and in return, he’d blamed her for her father’s actions and implied that she was a liar. Inexcusable behavior under any circumstances. And he had no excuse. Except that she’d pushed all his buttons, reminding him of his failures, reminding him of one of the worst nights of his life.

      That extraordinary summer he’d never even kissed Cassidy, but that hadn’t stopped him from dreaming about sex and love the way most eighteen-year-old boys do. But unlike most boys who’d grown up with the love of family around them, Jake had never had anyone tell him that they’d loved him—not since he’d been five and his father had died. No one had ever told him he’d done a good job. No one had ruffled his hair with affection or hugged him. If anyone touched him at all, it had been a fist to the chin, an elbow to the gut.

      So he’d craved affection. Maybe he’d read more into her emotions than had been there. He’d been so hungry for love that when she’d called him that long-ago afternoon to tell him she had special news and a special evening planned, he’d hoped and dreamed that they might make love.

      He’d bought a few candles to hide the dingy walls of his room, changed the sheets and spent his last few dollars to borrow a radio from another boarder. Freshly showered after a ten-hour day slinging hamburgers, he’d met Cassidy at his door. She’d taken his hand and dragged him down to the park where they could watch the stars in the balmy Floridian moonlight.

      After blowing out the candles, he’d followed willingly enough. She’d brought a blanket and a picnic dinner, but he’d been too excited to fill his ever-hungry stomach. He’d hoped she wanted a little romance before they went back to his room. He could still recall her aroma, wildflowers and honey, her lips scented of strawberry lipstick. But most of all he’d craved her golden heat. Cassidy’s skin was always warm to his touch, and he could never seem to resist holding her hand or running his fingers through her silky hair. Under a crescent moon he’d leaned over to kiss her, as ready as a volcano to burst with wanting her. And she’d pulled away.

      When he’d suggested going back to his room, she’d turned over and told him she was heading to UCLA in California in two weeks. And his world crashed. Hard. Without Cassidy to brighten his dreary nights, the two jobs he worked each week to make ends meet seemed unbearable. California might as well have been Mars. Four years and three thousand miles would effectively separate them and end their relationship just as her father had intended, since Jake couldn’t afford to follow her to California. Even after he joined Special Forces, he hadn’t been able to put her out of his mind.

      Cassidy had been the first person to show him affection or friendship for thirteen years, and losing her had devastated him. He’d coped with the emptiness by working harder. In what little spare time he had after his honorable discharge from the military, Jake had searched for his sisters and developed the skills to open his own detective agency. But no matter how many hours he’d worked, he’d never forgotten that bright summer when anything and everything had seemed possible. And he’d never forgotten what it felt like to wake up in the morning and look forward to Cassidy’s smile brightening his day.

      Jake drove up to Cassidy’s house and saw a broken windowpane next to the front door. His instinct for trouble immediately kicked in. Maybe a kid had thrown a baseball through the pane. But why was the glass still glinting on the front stoop?

      There could be a dozen reasons. The likeliest was that Cassidy wasn’t home.

      Still, Jake had learned to take precautions. He drove past the house and parked down the street. Picking up his cell phone, he called his friend and number-one employee, Harrison Gordon, and quickly gave him his location.

      “If you don’t hear from me within four minutes, send the cops.”

      Ever cautious, the former police office from Dade County asked, “Want backup?”

      “Cassidy may be in trouble. Phone’s in my pocket. I’ll leave the line open.”

      “Be careful.”

      Jake clipped the phone to his belt, eased his gun from his ankle holster and slipped it into his pocket. He didn’t want to chance scaring Cassidy if it wasn’t necessary. And a bullet could shoot through fabric as easily as air.

      Moving quickly and silently, Jake approached the ranch-style house from the side, slipping easily behind the shrubbery and ducking beneath the windows. Normally he would have scouted the perimeter and waited for backup, but he had a bad feeling in his gut.

      When he approached the broken glass by the front door, he heard the sickening sound of a slap against flesh and a woman’s yelp of pain.

      Sweat popped out on his brow. Every cell in his body yearned to burst through the door. But he wouldn’t do Cassidy an ounce of good if he got himself or her shot before he could rescue her.

      Jake took a moment to reach for his phone. “I’m going in, Harrison. Get me backup. Fast.”

      “Wait—”

      Jake didn’t listen to the rest of Harrison’s warning. He eased through the door, gun first. Glass crunched under his shoes. Jake silently swore. He’d just given up the element of surprise.

      At least the sickening sounds of the assault had stopped. But Jake couldn’t wait for the cops to arrive. It only took a nanosecond to end a life. Cassidy’s future might hinge on his next decision. Jake didn’t hesitate. He just wished he knew how many opponents he was up against and if they were armed.

      Ducking through a doorway, Jake stepped lightly into the dining room. He quickly scanned the thick draperies. Saw no sign of feet peeking out beneath the bottom.

      Keeping low, he dodged down a hallway and rolled into the kitchen. A bullet hissed past his ear. But he had heard no gunshot. Obviously the intruder used a silencer—unusual for a street thug.

      Out of the corner of his eye, Jake glimpsed Cassidy blindfolded by a cap, tied to a kitchen chair. Her shoulders slumped. He had no way of knowing if she was still breathing, and his heart missed a beat.

      Think. Cassidy needed him to be professional.

      Estimating that the gunfire had come from the direction of the refrigerator, Jake scrambled to the position least likely to put Cassidy in the line of fire.

      In the distance, police sirens sounded. Two more bullets kept Jake behind the counter. He heard footsteps retreating. The back door squeaked open and then more footsteps pounded across the patio, indicating the intruder had run away.

      Normally Jake would have pursued the culprit. But no way could he leave Cassidy blindfolded and tied to that chair, wondering if she was going to live or die. Not even for another minute.

      Jake hurried to her and yanked the cap from her head. “Sunshine, talk to me. Are you all right?”

      Dazed blue eyes looked at him with fear. Blood trickled from her mouth. “Jake?”

      She was alive! Pleasure shot through him, but as much as he yearned to gather her into his arms, touch that golden skin, inhale her feminine scent and reassure himself that she was all right, he hesitated. He had no desire to renew the old feelings, sensations and emotions that touching her had once caused.

      “Someone hit me.”

      “He won’t

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