Ingrid Weaver – The Angel and the Outlaw (страница 7)

“Applying for a job.”

“With Oliver? I thought you wanted to see him punished.”

Cooper’s gaze was like ice as it bored into hers. “I’m an ex-thief with a criminal record and a public grudge against the man Oliver murdered. Those credentials will get me places that you and the law could never go.”

She stopped before she reached him. She tried to think, but it was hard. Too much was happening too fast. “I still don’t understand.”

“You’re a bright woman, Hayley.” He turned away. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Oliver Sproule sat completely still, his hands folded neatly on his crossed legs. Two of his men stood behind him, their bulk a marked contrast to Oliver’s greyhound-slender frame. Against the dark backdrop of their suits, his hair shone like platinum.

He hadn’t moved since he’d taken the chair Cooper had offered. Not one fidget of his manicured fingers, not one rustle of his silk suit, not even a scuff of his hand-stitched shoes. He was as composed as a corpse.

Cooper didn’t like it. He’d never met anyone who was so difficult to read.

Yet by his very composure, Oliver revealed something basic about his character. He was a control freak. That’s why he’d shown up three hours early. It was also why he’d elected to have their meeting in the barroom at a table of his choice rather than in Cooper’s office.

The fact that he’d chosen to meet in Cooper’s territory instead of his own had provided yet another opportunity for one-upmanship. A second car had arrived while Cooper had been busy with Hayley. In addition to the two goons at the back of Oliver’s chair, there were several more at each exit and another four in the parking lot. Oliver’s men outnumbered Cooper’s by more than four to one. He’d essentially turned Cooper’s turf into his own.

Cooper couldn’t let him see how much that part of it bothered him. The Long Shot was his.

“While I’m flattered that you would like to do business with me, Mr. Webb,” Oliver said, “I’m curious to know why.”

Cooper hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and leaned back in his chair, endeavoring to keep his body language casual. “Money. Why else?”

Oliver arched one platinum eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“I figure you could be interested in some extra cash flow now that you fixed your legal problems.”

One corner of Oliver’s upper lip lifted in a barely suppressed sneer. The first chink he’d allowed. “Go on.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” Cooper said. “Nice piece of work on that verdict.”

“I fully support the justice system in this great country of ours.”

“Yeah, I bet. I would have popped Tavistock myself if I’d had the chance.”

“It was an unfortunate accident.”

“Sure. Whatever. The thing is, I’ve been wanting to get some action going but I need a way to move the merchandise. My former associate who used to handle that for me is doing twenty to life.”

“I don’t run a van line, Mr. Webb.”

“I thought you would know the trucks are my specialty, Ollie.”

The nickname brought on an eyelid twitch. Oliver regained control and regarded him stonily.

Cooper decided it was time to get to the point. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I bring you some TVs. You find a buyer, you take ten percent of the proceeds.”

“Sixty.”

“Twenty, and you provide storage until the merchandise can be moved.”

Oliver snapped his fingers. The men behind him stepped forward and drew back his chair as he stood. “Forty percent and secure space in my warehouse where you can unload.”

Cooper got to his feet. “You’ve got a deal.”

“Agreed.”

Cooper nodded and held out his hand. “Great. I’ll be in touch.”

Oliver slid his palm against Cooper’s and gave him a token squeeze. He moved toward the exit, his bodyguards falling into step behind him.

Cooper waited until he saw the cars pull out of the parking lot, then carefully wiped his right hand on his pants. The groundwork had been laid. He’d established an angle that would get him into the organization, just as he’d planned.

That didn’t stop him from feeling dirty.

It had been seven years since his last job. Four years since he’d made his promise to Tony. He’d become accustomed to feeling…clean.

Soap and clothes won’t change who a person is.

That’s what he’d told Hayley. Had she realized he hadn’t only been talking about her?

He helped Pete finish the preparations for the day, then left him to manage the bar while he headed upstairs. There was no sound coming from the other side when he reached the door to the loft. He didn’t think Hayley could have gotten out—he’d instructed Pete to keep an eye on the staircase during the meeting with Oliver to make sure she remained out of sight. But Cooper had made no attempt to mask the noise of his boots on the steps. He’d expected her to meet him with more questions and demands.

As soon as he unlocked the door, the reason for her silence became obvious. She had fallen asleep in his chair.

Cooper eased the door closed behind him and set the lock, then crossed the floor to Hayley. For a minute he indulged himself and simply looked at her. She had discarded her shoes and was curled on her side like a kitten, her bare feet drawn up on the seat and her cheek pillowed on the chair arm. Her hair hung over the side in a tangle of curls. In the daylight that poured through the windows, the hollows in her cheeks and the lines of strain around her eyes were more obvious than ever.

Was the woman trying to self-destruct? Didn’t she realize she had to start taking better care of herself? When was the last time she’d had anything to eat or had a full night’s sleep? This was probably the only rest she’d gotten since she’d slept on his office couch.

She looked so defenseless, it was hard to believe that she had taken on Oliver Sproule alone. Saying she was out of her league was an understatement. Yet even though her presence was turning into a complication he didn’t need, Cooper couldn’t help feeling a twinge of admiration for her. She had guts, he’d give her that. Despite his attempts to get rid of her, she didn’t scare off easy.

On the other hand, he hadn’t tried all that hard yet, had he? He had to stop thinking with his libido.

He knelt at the side of the chair and picked up a lock of her hair, letting the curls twine through his fingers. His gaze moved to her mouth. Her lips were parted and completely relaxed. It would be a shame to wake her up. If he had the time, he’d let her sleep her fill the way he had before, but they had to straighten this out. For her own safety, he had to convince her to back off.

Besides, he had too much riding on this to allow anyone, including her, to get in his way. “Hayley?”

A frown line appeared between her eyebrows. She sighed, moistened her lips and snuggled her cheek against the chair arm.

Cooper released her hair and leaned closer. “Hayley, wake up.”

Her lashes fluttered. Her lips moved into the ghost of a smile. “Cooper?”

“Yeah.”

He never saw it coming. Later, he would wonder how different things might have turned out if he had. As it was, any good intentions that might have lurked somewhere inside him were swept away when her hand stole around the back of his neck and she tugged his head to hers.

The kiss she gave him was sweet and sleepy. It was the kiss of a woman who wasn’t completely conscious, who didn’t know what she was doing. It didn’t mean a thing. She was probably dreaming, reacting instinctively, reaching for comfort the same way she would reach for a blanket.

Cooper didn’t give a damn. He tilted his head and gave her a kiss that brought her completely awake.

As soon as she felt Cooper’s tongue slide over her lips, Hayley realized it wasn’t a dream. No dream could be this vivid.

Cooper kissed the same way he moved, with a careless sexuality, as warm as the sunlight that poured through the wall of windows beside her, as supple as the leather of the chair that cradled her, as bold as the hair that curled around her fingers where she held the back of his neck.

Yet beneath the sexuality there was tenderness. She could feel it in the way he coaxed her response instead of demanding it. He tilted his head, testing angles until his lips fit perfectly over hers. The pressure was gentle, a sweet exploration, giving more than he took. This wasn’t the brusque-mannered bar owner who had carried her out of his office, this was the protector who had rescued her from the Sproule estate and had seen her safely home.

And for a crazy instant Hayley wanted to pretend she was still asleep. It was so tempting. It would give her an excuse to let the pleasure last a few moments longer.

But this was a man her brother had put in prison. How could she be kissing him? She knew what she wanted from him, and her own needs weren’t high on the list. She let go of his neck, pulled back and opened her eyes.

He was kneeling on the floor, one hand braced on the chair arm, the other on the seat beside her ankles. The sleeves of his chambray shirt were rolled above his elbows. His forearms—and the eagle—flexed. “If I’d realized you woke up like that,” he murmured, “I never would have let you sleep last night.”

Oh, he was dangerous. His voice was soft, as much a caress as his kiss had been. Sunshine gleamed from his spiky black lashes and warmed the startling blue of his eyes with flecks of gold. She wanted to lean forward and lick the moisture that slicked his lips.