Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Los Angeles, California

24 Months Earlier

FINN WALKED from the stairwell to Zo's condo. The beige tile was clean and well-maintained, but it wasn't a surprise, given how much a unit in this building must sell for. He stopped in front of her door, the rich mahogany as polished as the floor. He didn't reach for the bell. His buddies were right—this was a stupid idea. She had no reason to trust him, he had no reason to expect her to let him in, and yet, here he was. Chemistry, lust at first sight—whatever the label, it was stronger than anything he remembered feeling before.

Maybe he should leave. Finn looked around. This was a high-end building with security so tight that it had taken him a hell of a long time to figure out a way around it. He didn't belong here.

Fuck it. Finn pressed the bell.

It took a moment before he sensed her presence on the other side of the door. She'd looked out of the peephole, and recognized him, but done nothing.

"Zo, open up," he said just loudly enough for her to hear. "Let's talk."

"Go away."

"Please?"

There was a long pause before he heard the locks turn. The door opened about six inches, and she stood directly in front of it, her body blocking the entrance. "Well?"

He shook his head. "Inside, not in the hallway."

Suspicion was plain on her face. Who could blame her? As far as she was concerned, he wasn't only a mercenary, but a gunrunner as well, and the last time she'd seen him, he'd been in handcuffs. "Please," Finn said again.

She stared, considering him, and Finn tried to look as non-threatening as a man his size could. He guessed it wouldn't matter, that she'd turn him away.

Before he could think of another tactic, Zo opened the door wider. "If someone watches the news tomorrow and says I deserved to be raped and murdered because I was too stupid to live, I will haunt your ass for eternity. Count on it." And then she stood aside.

Finn didn't give her a chance to change her mind. "I won't hurt you, not in any way. I promise."

He'd expected her to be dressed in jeans or maybe khakis and a casual shirt of some kind, but she wasn't. LA Zo was wearing gray linen trousers, a charcoal, long-sleeve shirt with white stripes, and over that, a charcoal linen jacket with the cuffs rolled up midway between her wrist and elbow. A black leather belt matched low-heeled pumps, and her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She appeared cosmopolitan in a way she hadn't in Puerto Jardin.

Her style made him painfully aware of his own faded blue jeans and black T-shirt. At least he'd thrown on a blazer, and his hair was cut short from his gig as Ski's best man, but he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he shouldn't have come to California. This wasn't the Zo he'd expected to find.

As she closed the door, he looked around, wanting any insight into this Zo that her home might give him. He'd guessed she'd go for modern, but he hadn't imagined how sophisticated the condo would be. The front door was painted bright orange on the inside.

The kitchen was to his left. The lower cabinets were a glossy white, and the uppers were bright orange. There were four orange leather stools with chrome bases in front of a white quartz island, and the oven was orange, the same shade as the cabinets, although the other appliances were stainless.

Behind him, he heard her relock the door. Slowly. As if she were rethinking her decision to allow him inside.

Moving deeper into her space in case she tried to throw him out, Finn took in the gleaming white stone floors, the soft-gray sofas in the great room to his right, and the lighting. There were a lot of recessed lights—probably standard for the condo—but over the island were pendants with round crystals hanging on all sides. A matching rectangular lighting fixture hung over the glass dining room table on the other side of the space.

Finn realized the silence had dragged on too long, and he glanced behind him. She had her arms crossed over her chest as she frowned at him. He needed to say something. "Orange?"

It wasn't the reassuring message he'd meant to convey, but one side of her mouth kicked upward in a sort-of smile. "Bright colors make me happy," Zo said as she brushed past him.

He followed her into the great room. The fireplace had to be electric, but it was set in a gray-veined, white marble fa?ade. And there was more glass and chrome for the side tables. Again, perfect for the glamorous woman standing in front of him. Finn shot a glance at the entrance. Maybe it was time to apologize for bothering her and leave. He honestly didn't belong here.

But he didn't move.

She stared at him, clearly waiting. Instead of speaking, though, Finn stared back. Behind her polite expression, he picked up a definite glower. Something eased inside him. This was the Zo he knew. "I missed you, loquita," he said quietly.

He'd thrown her off balance, and Finn hid a grin. Zo didn't lose her poise easily, but the moment didn't last long. Raising both brows, she jammed her hands into the pockets of her trousers. "When did you get out of prison?"

If she was hoping the question would discomfit him, she'd miscalculated. "At the end of January. You didn't come to visit me."

This time her surprise was gone in the blink of an eye, but Finn caught it. He shouldn't be enjoying this so much, but he was. It was only fair that she be as unsettled as he was. "You look good," he said, voice thick. "Very polished. I expected to find you in jeans."

She waved away the compliment. "I have a meeting with my boss, and no one shows up at Archer's office wearing denim. Why are you here?"

Finn grinned. She might look refined and fancy, but this was his loquita—straight and to the point. There were so many things he could say, but some were too revealing, and others were too shallow. He went for something in the middle. "Because when we were together in Puerto Jardin, things felt right in a way they've never felt with anyone else."

Her expression clearly revealed her distrust. "You're just looking for sex."

He caught her hand before she could walk away. "If all I wanted was sex, I didn't have to travel across the width of the country for it." Finn tugged her forward, scowling over her blatant disbelief. "My friend got married a few weeks ago. I spent most of the reception dodging a woman who was sexy as hell and looking for a one-night stand. You know why I passed on her offer?"

Zo jerked her hand free, but she didn't back away. "You're going to say because of me, right?"

She didn't manage to pull off the tone she'd been trying for. There'd been vulnerability beneath the challenge. As if she didn't dare believe she could have this impact on him.

"Definitely because of you," he murmured, closing the gap between them. Zo's eyes widened, and she tried to shore up her bravado. His hands went to her hips. "Thinking about making love with you is what got me through six weeks in that Puerto Jardinese rattrap." He kissed her, careful to keep it brief and light. " You're who I want. No one else."

For a moment, she didn't move, and then Zo broke his hold, turning out of his embrace and putting distance between them. "You're a mercenary. You were trying to nose into the arms trade."

Now was the time for him to come clean, to admit who he really was. With a sigh, he approached her and reached out, running a finger down her jawline. She didn't flinch, which he took to mean she trusted him somewhere deep down. "I'm not a mercenary or a gunrunner. I never was."

Incredulity replaced her ire. "Can't you tell a better story than that? Maybe pull in your childhood like you did when we were in San Isidro?"

Finn sighed, lowered his arm back to his side, and shrugged. "My name isn't Tom Finley. It's Finn Rowland, and until a few days ago, I was US Army Special Forces." Zo simply stared at him, so he added, "That's the truth."

She jolted, her temper coming back in a rush. "The truth? You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you on the ass. And pretending to be Special Forces? That's low. "

He didn't blame her for the disbelief. He'd lied about who he was since the moment they'd met. "I have my discharge papers"—he tapped the blazer over the interior pocket—"I have my driver's license and my passport with me, too. I can prove what I say."

"Those documents can be forged," Zo said, but the heat was out of her voice.

"I know."

Finn paused and waited for Zo to speak, but she remained silent. Holding his arms out at his sides, he asked, "What more do you want me to say?"

"I don't know if there's anything you can say to sway me." Zo shook her head. "Let's sit down so I can look at your forged documents." Instead of dropping onto one of the couches or the love seat, she crossed the expanse to the dining room table, pulled out a chair facing him, and sat down. "Well?" she prompted.

Finn joined her, taking the seat beside her. He could feel her stiffen, but she didn't slide farther away from him. Reaching into the interior of his blazer, he pulled out everything he had and laid it in front of her. Zo studied each document thoroughly, frequently looking between what she was reading and his face.

With a long, loud sigh, she slid his things back toward him. "I wish I could believe you."

"You can," Finn assured her.

"It's not that easy."

"I know." He put his ID and paperwork back in his jacket. "I couldn't tell you the truth in Puerto Jardin. It would have risked the mission."

"Which you can't share with me, am I right?"

He covered her hand with his, her skin silky and warm against his. "You know I can't, but I think you can make some educated guesses."

Zo didn't say anything, but she left her hand beneath his, and he let the quiet linger. It lasted until her phone chimed. It was sitting on the counter near the door next to her purse. "That's my reminder to leave." She didn't move. "Where are you staying?"

"I came straight to see you when I got to town. Do you have any suggestions for a hotel near here? Something reasonably priced," he added.

"This is Los Angeles. Nothing is reasonably priced." Pushing back from the table, Zo stood. For a moment, her blue eyes bore into his. "Is your word good?"

"Yes." Finn didn't embellish. Either she trusted him, or she didn't.

"Does your promise not to hurt me in any way hold indefinitely?"

"It holds forever, loquita."

Zo nodded. "You can stay here for a few days. I'll show you the guest room."

Without waiting for his agreement, she went down the hallway behind them. Finn followed, taking long strides until he caught up to her. She stopped at the first door on the right and opened it. The brilliant lime green accent wall made him wish he was wearing his sunglasses, but the rest of the walls were white. The bed was white with a zebra print comforter, and there were two black-and-white striped rugs on the gleaming white floor, a black dresser, and a bright yellow chair near the window. Even the art on the wall behind the bed was black and white.

"This room has its own bathroom," she gestured toward a closed door to the right of the bed. "I have to leave. Archer doesn't tolerate tardiness. If you need to go out, the spare key is in the kitchen drawer closest to the front entry," her voice trailed behind her as she walked away.

Finn caught up with her in time to see her scoop up her purse and her phone. "I'll tell the front desk that you're a guest. I'm sure they have no idea you're here," she added dryly.

"Thanks," he got out as she reached for the doorknob.

Zo opened the door, stopped, and turned to look at him. "I'm going to check out your story. If you lied to me, you better be gone when I get home."