Read Dangerous Liaisons for Free Online Page A

asked.
    “I have a car parked on the street. You’re going to walk over there, then your friend here will tie you up in the back seat.”
    Jesse snorted, as much to clear her mind of the drug as in derision. “And you’ll just let him go.”
    “You don’t have a choice.”
    “All right. Let’s go.”
    “Don’t do—” Cole began.
    “Shut up!” she snapped. “I’m tired of running.”
    The shooter kept fifteen feet between them until Jesse reached a Pontiac Starfire parked under a burned out streetlight.
    “Stop,” he said. “Get in.”
    Jesse faced him. “Time to renegotiate. Once I’m tied up, there’s nothing to stop you from killing him. I might as well run now.”
    “Try and I’ll shoot you first.” He swung the pistol toward her.
    She ducked, lunging forward as the gun fired. Searing pain passed through her shoulder. Before he could squeeze off another round, she tackled him, with Cole sandwiched between them. She seized the hand gripping the gun, wrenching the wrist back in a grip that would cripple a boxer. A snap of bone sounded, and the pistol fell from his grasp. Cole elbowed him in the ribs and twisted from his hold as Jesse leaped to her feet and kicked the man below the ribcage. The shooter gasped. Cole sprang up, wheezing. Jesse’s vision blurred and she reared backward.
    “You all right?” he demanded.
    Her attention snapped onto the tiny movement of the shooter’s left hand at his side. Cole must have seen it as well. He stepped toward the shooter, but she jumped between them, knocking Cole back. The shooter flipped open a French switchblade and sliced through her jeans in one movement, opening a long wound down her leg. She reeled.
    A strong hand closed around her shoulder and yanked her back. She whirled, brought a fist up, but tumbled onto the sidewalk. In a blur, she saw Cole kick the knife from the shooter’s hand, then throw a punch that cracked so loudly it penetrated the ringing in her ears. Cole approached her, but vanished in a world of black.
     
     

Chapter Nine
    Jesse awoke to sunlight shining through thin ivory colored curtains opposite her. She bolted upright. Her gaze caught on a pile of bloody surgical instruments lying in disarray on a rolling aluminum tray near the foot of the hospital bed where she lay.
    “Easy now,” came a male voice to her right.
    She jerked her head to face the speaker who sat in a chair beside her. Through a blurry haze, Jesse took in the sandy blond hair, the angular features of his face, and quizzical blue eyes, but found nothing familiar about this man. A flutter brushed the inside of her stomach. Muscular arms were crossed over a broad chest, and jean-clad legs stretched to where ankle was crossed over ankle in a causal manner that bellied the power in his size.
    The fog in her mind persisted, but she forced a calm voice. “Where am I?”
    “Relax, Jesse.” His soft drawl moved over her like a cool mist. “You’re safe.”
    She tensed. This stranger knows my name—my real name. She grabbed his lapel and pulled his face close to hers. “Who are you?”
    He placed a hand over hers. Warm fingers disengaged her fist with gentle pressure. “Take it easy.” He released her. “You’ve had a rough night.”
    Rough night? The events of last night flooded back in jumbled images. The alley, the hoodlums, the woman…Jesse focused on the man who had attempted to rescue her. Attempted—hell—he had rescued her.
    She relaxed back against the pillow and gingerly touched her jaw. The bruise felt like she’d been battered by a prizefighter. “Who hit me?” She winced even as memory of the woman’s fist materialized with painful vividness.
    Cole shook his head in a slow, somber movement. “I don’t know, but by the looks of your face, they packed quite a wallop.”
    Jesse surveyed the rest of the room, typical of a doctor’s examination room; tile floor, white walls, small sink and counter, x-ray backlight fixture. “Where are