Chances Are - By Christy Reece Page 0,33

and completely unaware of any possible danger.

Kelly and Riley were out here, too. Both behind him, one to the right, the other to his left. He could neither see nor hear them but he felt their presence. If anything happened, they could respond in seconds.

Waiting for the killer to strike was the plan but dammed if he liked it. Didn’t matter that he could be at her side immediately if she needed him. It also didn’t matter that she could easily take down a man without breaking a sweat. Angela in danger was hard to watch.

Her second performance had revealed no viable suspects. More than half of the men had been the ones who’d seen her first performance. None had acted unusual or caused warning bells.

But this was the real test. Angela walking home, alone, in the dark of night with a heavy mist turning every inanimate object into a threatening presence. Hell of it was, they still didn’t know exactly how the killer made the grab. Did he take some of his victims out in the open? Or only from their homes? Did he deliver the roses and then attack? Maybe he made contact with them and they actually met before he took them.

As Jake had known all along—this was a fishing expedition and Angela was the bait.

She had barely even glanced his way when she’d left the club. He had expected nothing different since she could give no indication that they were more than mere acquaintances. Still he had detected an unusual aloofness in her attitude. Since he had known her, Angela had been an open book. He had never met anyone more open or emotionally available. Even after the hell of losing her entire family, she was willing to put her heart and emotions at risk. Having existed in shutdown mode for the last few years, her warmth and honesty jarred him, kicking at his wall of defenses unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

His gut told him something had changed tonight. Had she finally decided that he wasn’t worth the trouble? Could he blame her? Hell no. He’d rebuffed her several times. Even with Angela’s confidence, at some point he had figured she’d accept the reality of their relationship and let it go. So why the hell did he suddenly feel this massive regret?

He’d told Dylan he was a mixed-up son of a bitch. Sometimes he hated being right.

She could feel Jake’s eyes even though she couldn’t hear or see him. Just knowing he was there gave her reassurance. Even if he didn’t want her in the way she wanted him, she knew he had her back.

Her normal confidence had returned, bringing with it a necessary and much-welcomed pragmaticism. Maybe it was the second performance that did it. She’d walked on to the stage, expecting to have the same experience as before, but everything felt different. She couldn’t explain why. The audience had been just as lewd and crude as before. Men had thrown money at her feet, strange hands had slid paper money into her thigh-high stockings and her panties. And once again, many of those hands had tried to touch more. It should have made her feel just as vulnerable and exposed as the first time. Instead, she’d felt powerful. Maybe it was because she had taken the advice of the other dancers and danced only for one man. For her, that man was Jake.

She had imagined those dark blue eyes roaming over her body, his handsome face revealing desire and need. His hands clenched at his side to prevent himself from reaching for her. His entire body stiff and still, aching with all the delicious things he wanted to do to her. She had envisioned that after her performance, he would pull her to him and devour her mouth, then move down her body to the intense, needy throb between her legs aching for his mouth, his tongue.

Angela jerked herself back to reality of the moment. Dammit, she was on a job. A killer was out there and it was her responsibility to attract him. Looking distracted was supposed to be a ruse to make herself look vulnerable. It sure as heck wasn’t supposed to be real.

She flipped her long hair off her right shoulder in a sexy, careless manner—most likely a useless gesture. If she hadn’t attracted him while stripped to almost nothing, a little sexy hair play probably wasn’t going to make a difference. Still, she felt the need to do something.

Stopping abruptly