Hidden Hearts

Strong masculine arms closed around her. Arms way too strong to fight.

Chapter One

Two men were after her.

A team.

Sent to take the package her brother had sent her.

Alexandra’s first instinct had been to flee. Trapped in the big man’s grip, she knew her only remaining option was to fight, take him by surprise.

But, unlike the short man in the sloppy uniform who had just slid and fallen with a loud thump, this man was tall, with shoulders as broad as the Panhandle and blue eyes that pierced like a laser. Eyes that seemed unfazed at finding her trying to flee.

Her head barely reached his chin, so slamming her brow into his face to escape wouldn’t be an option. But she had no intention of giving up.

At least not without giving him her best shot.

Men may have evolved to be stronger than women, but that simply meant Alexandra had to be smarter. She slammed her foot down onto the big man’s toe. He let out a grunt and one hand loosened its grip on her arm.

As he hopped in pain, she kicked his shin and slapped his ear with the hand that still clasped her blueprints tightly.

She hoped he’d loosen the grip of his other hand on her shoulder. He did let go, but grabbed her by the waist with both hands, lifting her off her feet, bringing her up to eye level. “Woman, you hurt me.”

She kicked. Missed. “Let me go—”

“Or?”

“I’ll hurt you some more.” She drew back her foot to kick him where it would really hurt. One good knee to the groin and he’d—

“Don’t even think about it.”

She’d made a mistake by warning him. He’d sensed her intention and twisted his hips so she lost the angle needed to wreak the most damage. She considered how much hurting she could cause by ramming her elbow into his chin.

Before she could put thought into action, the man in the uniform rushed out through the back door onto the terrace. He reached behind his back and pulled a gun. A big ugly gun with the muzzle pointed at her.

As icy fear sliced her, Alexandra’s heart froze. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

The big man dropped her so fast she stumbled and fell to her knees. Suddenly, her opponent shifted his body between her and the guy in the uniform.

As if to protect her?

Confusion mixed with fear. Weren’t the two men working together? Why had he let her go? Why would he place himself between her and his partner?

A shot fired and her ears rang. Burnt smoke singed her nostrils. Fear shook her legs. She expected to feel pain or to see the big man go down. Neither happened.

Her captor lunged and kicked the gun from the smaller man, then tackled him.

Alexandra still didn’t understand why he’d let her go. She didn’t understand why the pair were fighting. She didn’t question her good fortune. Didn’t stay around to ask questions. Without a backward glance, she fled down the stairs on watery knees. In her haste, she tripped and dropped her precious blueprints, which rolled onto the sidewalk and partially into the shrubs. She tugged on them and realized they’d snagged. They weren’t worth her life. She kept running.

Above her she heard the sound of flesh smacking flesh, grunts, a groan of pain. A potted plant crashed onto the concrete patio beside her, the shards whizzing by her legs.

She raced around the apartment complex. Heard footsteps clanging down her terrace steps. Her heart jackhammering up into her throat, she sprinted toward the parking garage. She couldn’t count on a neighbor hearing the shot and calling the police. She needed to escape now. If only she could make it to her car.

As she ran around the building’s corner, she fumbled in her purse for her car keys. The steps behind were coming closer. He was catching her. She wasn’t going to make it to her car and had only seconds to plan another course of action while her pursuer still couldn’t see her.

The apartment building had been built on piers and pilings over the parking area. Two elevators provided access to the upper floors. In the middle of Monday afternoon, most people were at work. There weren’t enough cars to hide behind, and she couldn’t reach the next building or the woods behind the apartments before he caught up with her—whoever he was. Although she didn’t know who had won the fight, she’d bet on the big man.

And she didn’t want to take him on again. Kicking his shin had hurt her foot. Slapping his ear had stung her hand. He’d been one giant slab of solid muscle.

Looking around wildly for a hiding space, she saw the garbage Dumpster. Yanking open the lid, she ignored the awful smell, tossed her purse and her brother’s envelope inside and scrambled over. She landed softly on her feet, making little noise. Her pursuer pounded around the corner just as she ducked out of sight.

She had no time to close the top. But if she had, the smell might have suffocated her. The Dumpster had been emptied recently and contained only a few tidy plastic garbage bags in one corner, a few rotting onions, rotten banana peels and maybe some decayed meat. She tried to convince herself that the odor wasn’t so bad. The foul smell helped her control her ragged breathing as she tried to remain still, quiet.

If only she hadn’t come home from work, but she’d needed a shower after inspecting the dusty job site. And then she’d gone over the plans again…Now she really needed a shower.

She held her breath as her pursuer walked past. She didn’t dare peer over the side to see which man still pursued her. She didn’t dare call out for help. In the middle of May, at the beginning of the week, the kids were still at school, their parents at work, the complex mostly empty.

And she’d left her cell phone in her car.

She heard the footsteps retreat and let out a quiet sigh of relief. But then the steps returned, steady, measured steps. He was heading straight for the Dumpster, and her heart raced so hard, she thought it might burst through her ribs.

She crouched low next to the filthy side, ignoring the grease, old dirt and who knew how many billions of germs. When the big man peered inside and his eyes found hers, she expected to see anger or annoyance. She expected him to grab her. Shoot her.

But he chuckled.

Chuckled?

It was a deep chuckle without the least hint of malice. She didn’t care how nice a chuckle he had, she backed up until her feet tripped up against the plastic bags.

Alexandra tried not to stare but couldn’t help herself. When she’d been struggling in his grasp, she hadn’t really looked at him. Now she saw that he was absolutely stunningly gorgeous, a fact she’d missed in her battle with him on her terrace. Terror alone could have made her unaware of his movie-star attractiveness as she’d fled from him earlier. This guy’s face was the kind women fantasized over, and, naturally, the extraordinary face came packaged with a body worth dying for.

He smiled at her, and of course he had perfect teeth, too. And he knew it. His smile seemed to say come out, come out, I’m really one of the good guys.

“You can come out now.”

Imagine that. He’d just told her she was safe—so naturally he expected her to believe it. If she hadn’t been frightened half to death and partly mesmerized by his gorgeous good looks, she would have laughed as he actually put her thoughts into words. Naturally he had a deep, melodic knock-your-socks-off baritone to go with the rest of his perfection. Not once did she take her gaze from his face. Besides the bluest blue eyes she’d ever seen, he had an olive complexion, the kind that didn’t require hours in the sun to tan, a straight aristocratic nose and gleaming white teeth. His black hair was cut short, neat and tidy over the ears. And he wore clothes as if he was born to model. A navy sports jacket emphasized broad shoulders, a white shirt accentuated his acre-sized chest, and khaki slacks, not the least bit rumpled from his fight, showed off slender hips. The only thing menacing about him, besides his huge size, was the five-o’clock shadow that underscored his tough-guy jaw.

“Look, I’m Roarke Stone. Didn’t your brother tell you to expect me?”

His voice was as deep and non-threatening as his chuckle, but she didn’t trust Mr. I’m-a-Good-Guy for a second. “My brother?”

“Jake Cochran.”

“What about him?” She told herself not to let down her guard. Not to trust his seductive smile. Not to trust one thing he said just because he knew her brother’s name. If he was after the envelope, like the intruder in her apartment, of course he would know her brother’s name. And he’d try to feed her a line to convince her to hand it over.

He looked slightly puzzled but ready to smooth over her misconceptions. Oh so casually, he spoke. “Jake hired me to protect you.”

Damn, he was good, coming up with a creative twist—one she hadn’t expected. Still, she didn’t believe him. And she couldn’t quite believe his audacity either. He’d spoken with such conviction, as if he believed his own lies. Despite his charming good looks, those devastating blue eyes and the absolutely divine cheekbones, all she had to remember was how easily he’d lifted her off the ground, how easily he could hurt her, and she shivered.