Mission: Irresistible Page 19

  “Not that I’m aware of,” he said grimly, but then again, who knew?

  Nothing made sense anymore. Harrison was the quintessential reluctant hero journeying through the mythological woods with his very own, very sexy Trickster sidekick. When or how his life had started diverging wildly out of control, he could not exactly pinpoint, but all roads led right back to Cassie.

  And the scary thing about it: he was enjoying the ride. Until a man in a filthy overcoat threw a brown paper bag wrapped around an empty wine bottle at his hood when he stopped for a red light.

  “Asshole,” the guy swore at him.

  Harrison honked his horn.

  “Hey, Harry, don’t get so upset. It wasn’t anything personal. The guy was aiming for that trash can next to the streetlight. See, there.” Cassie waved at a graffitied trash barrel positioned at the curb. “He can’t help it if he’s a bad shot.”

  Harrison glanced over at the bum. The guy bared his teeth and shook a fist. Yeah, right, he was just aiming for the trash can.

  Not for the first or even the tenth time, he wondered how Cassie had survived well into her twenties with those rose-colored glasses glued so firmly to her face.

  He didn’t even wait for the light to change. Once he was sure no traffic was coming, he floored it through the intersection.

  “Whoo-hoo!” Cassie sat up straight and grasped the armrests with both hands. “Breakin’ the law. Bad boys, bad boys,” she sang, the theme song from Cops.

  He wished she’d stop making him grin at the most inopportune times. He bumped into the parking lot of Bodacious Booties and cut the engine, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the bum hadn’t trailed them from the intersection.

  The chrome-customized Harley sat out front along with numerous other motorcycles. In peeling paint, the silhouette of a naked woman adorned the side of the building. The provocative beat of pole-dancer music throbbed from inside the club.

  “Are you certain that’s the bike you saw Adam drive away on?” Cassie asked in a squeaky voice. She sounded as nervous as Harrison felt.

  “Positive.”

  He had no idea why Adam was inside this den of iniquity, but he was determined to find out. No matter how scared he might be to walk through that door.

  But what to do with Cassie?

  He couldn’t very well leave her alone in the car in this neighborhood. Yet the thought of taking a woman like her into a place like that shoved icicles through his veins. The men in there would be on her like wolves on a newborn lamb.

  It’s up to you to protect her.

  Okay. He could do this. He would do this. Adam was inside. His brother could help if things got dicey. But he had to think this through, get it right in his head so he wouldn’t make the wrong move.

  Cassie, however, had different plans. Before Harrison even realized what she intended, the crazy woman was out of the car and heading for Bodacious Booties, her own bodacious booty bopping up the steps.

  He leaped from the car and charged after her. Lord, she’d be the death of him. He caught her elbow just as she stepped over the threshold into the smoky, dimly lighted strip bar.

  A lanky, bored woman with breasts she had definitely not been born with spun listlessly on a small stage. To one side sat three pool tables. A gaggle of guys in leather and chains stood around drinking beer, chalking their cues, and occasionally casting glances at the dancer.

  Harrison spotted the Indy hat immediately. Adam was sitting at the bar with his back to the door. A burly dude with a bandanna on his head was seated on the stool to his right. The barstool to Adam’s left was empty. Harrison decided to approach from that side.

  “There’s your brother.” Cassie nudged him in the ribs. “Go get ’im.”

  He hated to be rushed, but he’d seen the way the men were eyeing Cassie. Best to claim his brother and get out of here as quickly as possible. But then he thought of all that had happened, how Adam had been leading them on a wild-goose chase, and anger took over.

  Stay calm, stay cool, stay detached from your feelings.

  To Harrison’s confusion, his never-fail mantra failed. No matter how strongly he told himself not to do it, he could not seem to stop himself from stalking over and slapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  “Just what in the hell kind of game do you think you’re playing?” he demanded.

  Adam turned his head.

  Only it wasn’t Adam.

  The guy had a face like a car accident. His cheeks were crisscrossed with pockmarks and scars. His nose had been broken at least twice, and his eyes were so small and close-set that he looked cross-eyed. Life had not been kind.

  Without a word, the man pushed off the barstool and rose to his full height. Harrison was forced to look up and up and up. At six feet, Harrison was by no means short. But this dude was a sequoia.

  “You startin’ somethin’ with me?” The cross-eyed guy leaned down and blew his hot, beer-and-pork-rind-smelling breath in Harrison’s face.

  “No, no,” Cassie rushed to say. “He’s not starting anything. Case of mistaken identity.”

  Why couldn’t she have let him handle this? He might be terrified, but he didn’t need her to rescue him.

  “You let your woman do your talkin’?” Pork-Rind Beer Breath asked.

  “Hey baby,” said the bandanna-headed guy on the barstool to the right. He made smooching noises at Cassie. “I wanna start a little sumpin’ with you.”

  “Let’s discuss this like rational men,” Harrison said. “I thought you were someone else. Please excuse my blunder. I’m sorry if I caused you any inconvenience.”

  “Rational?” Bandanna Head hooted. “You think Big Ray is rational?” Then he winked at Cassie. “After Big Ray kills your boyfriend, wanna go out back and get it on with me, baby?”

  “Before you pound me senseless, could you answer one question?” Harrison said to Big Ray, who was clenching his fists and grinding his small, crooked teeth. Harrison’s mind raced, searching for a way out of this mess.

  “Yeah?” Big Ray grunted, slamming his right fist rhythmically into his left palm.

  “Is that your customized Harley out front?”

  “No,” Big Ray said, jerking his thumb at Bandanna Head. “It’s Freemont’s. But I borrow it sometimes.”

  “Did you borrow the Harley last night? Were you near the Kimbell Art Museum?” Harrison asked.

  “Nah,” Freemont supplied. “That wasn’t Big Ray. That was me at the Kimbell last night.”

  “Were you wearing Big Ray’s Indy hat?” Cassie asked.

  “It’s not Big Ray’s hat. He likes to borrow stuff,” Freemont volunteered. “Like other men’s women.”

  “Whose hat is it?” Harrison asked, doing his best to ignore that last comment.

  Freemont shrugged. “I met a guy in the airport who gave me that hat, a hundred bucks, and a white envelope with the name ‘Harrison’ printed on it. He said I should show up at the Kimbell wearing this hat and give the envelope to someone who worked there. What’s it to you?”

  “You said just one question,” Big Ray said. “That’s a bunch of questions, and they’re starting to sound pretty damned nosy.”

  Harrison pulled five twenties from his wallet and slapped them on the bar. “How many questions will this buy me?”

  Big Ray’s eyes lit up and he reached for the cash. Just when Harrison thought that maybe they had a chance of waltzing out of there without Big Ray pounding him into talcum powder, Freemont picked that moment to grab Cassie’s butt.

  “Honey,” Cassie said glibly and wriggled away from him. “I’m not up for grabs.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have been wagging that gorgeous ass in front of me,” Freemont said and then smacked her fanny so hard the sound of it echoed above the stripper music.

  Harrison saw red.

  And for a color-blind guy, that was quite a feat.

  All logic flew out of his head. He was an animal gone wild. He ignored Big Ray and t
urned on Freemont. Curling his lip, he snarled, “Get your hands off my woman.”

  “Make me, Four-Eyes.”

  At that moment, Freemont was every bully who’d ever called Harrison a wimp. He was every jock who’d gotten the girl by pushing around a weaker guy. He was every petty tyrant who’d ever sexually harassed a woman.

  Harrison smacked his hand around Freemont’s wrist and yanked the man off Cassie. Then, before he even knew what he intended on doing, he punched Freemont square in the jaw.

  Old Bandanna Head went down like a sack of cement.

  Harrison blinked, amazed at what he’d done. Freemont sprawled on the floor at his feet, the bandanna half off his chrome dome. Harrison’s fist throbbed, but Cassie was gazing at him like he was her own personal superhero. Archaeology Man to the rescue.

  Unfortunately, everyone else in the place was looking at him too.

  “Get him!” Big Ray hollered, and then it was a free-for-all.

  They were beating the living crap out of Harry. Not only that, they were beating the living crap out of one another. Guys fighting for the sake of fighting.

  The stripper and the bartender had taken cover, but everyone else was slinging punches and throwing beer bottles and bouncing pool balls off each other’s heads.

  Men.

  Cassie stood in the midst of it, hands on her hips. She had to do something to save Harry, or they were going to kill him. She could call the cops, but that would take too long. She needed a plan and she needed it now.

  Okay, think logically. What would Harry do?

  Her mind tumbled with possibilities, but she quickly rejected them. She needed something that would make everyone stop fighting so she could grab Harry and make a clean getaway.

  Think, think, think.

  Big Ray grabbed Harry by the collar and threw him against the bar.

  “Ooph,” Harry grunted, and the pain in his voice tore a hole right through her heart.

  Impulse urged her to jump on Big Ray’s back and start slapping him about the head, but for once something held her back. Harry was depending on her to remain composed. She couldn’t go off half-cocked and possibly land them in even more dire circumstances. Was this what it felt like to be prudent?

  But she wasn’t accustomed to thinking things through. Acting out was her basic defense mechanism. How did she make the shift from spontaneous to structured thought?

  A beer bottle whizzed over her head.

  Hurry, think quick!

  Play to your strength, use your talents.

  What the hell were her talents beyond flirting? Things had gotten a little too out of hand for that tactic to work at this late date.

  Cassie groaned. What was she good at?

  Everyone said she excelled at thinking out of the box. Terrific, what out-of-the-box solution could stop three dozen pissed-off, half-drunk, badass bikers in their tracks?

  Harrison was on his feet, swinging wildly, desperately at Big Ray and missing his target completely. Big Ray laughed and punched him in the gullet.

  A pool ball rolled under her foot. She could pick it up and bean Big Ray, or she could do something really spectacular and arrest the attention of the entire bar.

  Whatever it is, do something, anything, before Harry gets clobbered to a pulp.

  And then the answer came to her.

  Cassie had left him.

  When things had gotten too tough for her to handle, she had turned and run out the door. A small part of him was disappointed, but most of him was happy she was out of harm’s way.

  He told himself that her adiosing from the bar was a good thing. He wanted her clear of the fray. She’d done the only thing she knew to do, and he couldn’t blame her for that. With any luck, she was out in the Volvo on her cell phone calling 911.

  If only he could hold on until the cops got there.

  His right eye throbbed where Big Ray had just planted his fist. His glasses were broken, dangling from one ear. Freemont had roused, and Big Ray was holding Harrison’s arms behind his back.

  Freemont was still a little wobbly but determined to get even. He drew back a fist, took a deep breath, and aimed for Harrison’s sternum.

  Oh, shit, this is going to hurt.

  Harrison gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw, and braced for the fresh assault.

  But the punch never came.

  Instead, the front door slammed open and Cassie strode into the room, carrying her backpack in front of her. The loud buzzing sound of diamondback rattlesnakes filled the room.

  “Okay, boys,” she yelled and held the bag aloft. “Y’all hear that?”

  Everyone froze.

  When Harrison realized what she intended, he almost started grinning at her craftiness.

  Helluva creative woman. Using her vibrator to save his bacon.

  “That’s right,” she said. “I have ten diamondback rattlesnakes in this knapsack. Everyone raise your hands and step back against the wall, or I’ll let ’em loose.”

  Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz, went the bag.

  No one made a move.

  “Do it!” She unzipped the bag.

  The rattling sound was much louder now. Dozens of hands shot into the air.

  “Now step against the wall.”

  Like the usual suspects in a police lineup, the men all backed up.

  “Come on, Harry,” Cassie said. “Let’s get out of this joint.”

  In spite of his jelly legs, Harrison sprinted happily toward her.

  “Now, nobody do anything stupid, and we’ll all get out of this without getting snakebit.”

  Slowly, buzzing bag still held aloft, Cassie and Harrison edged backward out the door.

  CHAPTER 18

  Your poor eye.” Cassie made a soft hissing noise of sympathy and tenderly applied a chunk of cold beefsteak to Harrison’s battered face.

  His right eye was swollen shut and his head throbbed. Even his teeth hurt. But they were alive and in one piece, which after the bar brawl was saying something.

  He was on Cassie’s couch, and she was seated next to him with her soft, round breast pressed into his side. She’d taken a shower and changed into silky black lounging pajamas, and she looked good enough to eat. If he were to keel over dead at that moment, his life would be complete. Which was a totally stupid thought, but he couldn’t help the way he felt.

  Since when? You’ve always been able to distance yourself from your emotions.

  What in the hell had the woman done to him?

  “How did you think of using the Rattler as a decoy?” he asked.

  She grinned and tilted her head at him in the cutest way. “I just asked myself, ‘What would Harry do?’”

  “And that’s what you came up with?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Wow, were you off base. I would never have thought of using a dildo as a weapon.”

  “Maybe not, but you would have thought first, reacted second. So that’s what I did. Me, normally I’m the other way around.”

  “I think we made a good team.”

  “Me too.” She beamed. “You hungry? I can fix us something to eat. I’m starving.”

  He wanted to say no because he didn’t want her to get up. He wanted her to keep sitting right next to him. He wanted to feel her breast rise and fall against his arm as she breathed. But the mention of food made his stomach rumble and she heard it.

  “Got the message.” She grinned. “Food it is. Here, hold this.” She took his hand and used it to anchor the raw steak in place against his eye. “Come into the kitchen and talk to me while I cook. I like company.”

  And he liked being her company.

  Obediently, he followed her into the kitchen, trying not to wince against the jarring body aches, but he must have given himself away, because after he had plunked down at her dining room table, she brought him a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen.

  “Here, swallow these.”

  He didn’t argue.

  “Luckily for you and me,”
she said, digging around in the freezer, “I cook in huge batches once a month and then freeze the extras with one of those vacuum-sealer thingamajiggies. All I hafta do is drop the bag in boiling water and toss a salad, and voilà, instant home-cooked meal.”

  “I feel like we should be out there looking for Adam,” he muttered. “Not eating dinner.”

  “We have to eat, and you have to recuperate, and we have to plan our next move.”

  “That’s the problem. I have no next move. I’m all tapped out of ideas.”

  “Not for long. You’re great at coming up with ideas.”

  “Not with this headache.”

  “We could try calling his cell phone again.” She fished her own phone from her purse and handed it to him.

  He didn’t hold out much hope on that score, but while Cassie set a pan of water on to boil, Harrison called Adam’s number.

  No answer. He left another voice mail message and hung up. He sighed, pressed the steak against his eye with the heel of his hand, and looked up just in time to see Cassie bent over the vegetable crisper.

  Nice. Very nice.

  Even with a bum eye and blurry vision, there was no ignoring Cassie’s fanny.

  Great, now he was acting like that jerk-off Freemont. Just the thought of the way that guy had touched Cassie made him mad all over again.

  She took the butter lettuce to the sink and rinsed it under running water. Harrison’s good eye was glued to her fingers, watching her stroke the soft fresh leaves.

  “You’re not still thinking I’m a member of the Minoan Order, are you?” he asked.

  “No. You’ve convinced me.”

  “Now I just have to figure out why Ahmose suspects me. I’ve known the guy for years.”

  “You’re probably just the most likely suspect. Finding Kiya was your life’s work. You have a lot invested.”

  “All the more reason not to steal her amulet.”

  “More and more, I believe Clyde is the one who’s really in the Minoan Order.”

  “You’re probably right,” Harrison conceded.

  “So let’s go over this again, try to jog the brain cells and piece this jigsaw together. What did we learn tonight?”