Chapter 2

"Sorry the place is a little messy." Gus D'Amato unlocked the door to his condo and swung it open, gesturing for Anya to enter. "I wasn't really expecting company tonight."

"I'm sorry," Anya began, but Gus stopped her.

"No problem, Anya. Just preparing you for a bachelor's place."

"Oh." She managed a tiny smile as he ushered her into the living room. What she noticed wasn't any clutter but the magnificent view of downtown San Antonio from his living room. One entire wall was comprised of glass. From the vantage of the building's fifteenth floor, she could see nearly all the city spread out before her.

"Wow!" was all she could managed.

Gus came up behind her, almost but not quite touching her. "I sometimes forget how impressive this is. Would you like a drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"Just a glass of ice water, please."

He led her to a long leather couch and waited until she'd settled at one end of it. Anya was grateful for the fact that he hadn't asked her one question during the ride from the shopping center. Only an FBI agent would simply pick her up, no questions asked, and bring her back to his place to ask her what kind of trouble she was in.

She was still trembling so badly that she nearly spilled the glass of water he handed her. Gus sat down beside her and cupped his hand around hers, helping her steady the glass while she drank.

"Thank you." She set the glass down on the coaster he slid along the coffee table.

Now she had to figure out the best way to explain her situation. While she was trying to put her thoughts in some kind of order, she took her first really good look at the man who'd hired her only a few short weeks ago yet had come for her tonight without hesitation.

Without the standard suit and tie all FBI agents seem to favor he looked…different. Tonight he had on faded jeans and a black t-shirt that clung to his well-muscled body like a second skin. His thick, brown, sun-streaked hair was slightly disheveled, enough so that Anya just wanted to run her fingers through it. Whiskey-brown eyes looked out from a face more masculine than handsome, with its square jaw, high cheekbones and now a sexy five o'clock shadow. Muscles rippled in his arms as he lifted the bottle of beer he'd fetched with her water.

Stop!

She was literally running for her life, terrified, with the only person she dared to ask for help and yet here she was ogling him and trying to imagine him naked. Her boss, of all people! Totally off limits under any circumstance. Virgil must have really rattled her brains with that hard smack to her face.

"I hate to damage the merchandise," he'd said, "but you have to learn to take orders. Ya know?"

Thinking of it now she touched her cheek where it was still sore and flinched at the contact.

Instantly Gus set his beer down, slid over next to her and cupped her chin. His eyes studied her carefully. When his thumb brushed over the shadow beneath her makeup she winced and his eyes darkened.

"Don't move," he told her and headed for the kitchen. He returned holding an ice bag and a small towel. "Hold this to your face. It will help."

"Thank you." She took it, embarrassed for him to see her like this. But what choice did she have?

Gus sipped on his beer for a moment or two, giving her a chance to pull herself together.

"All right." His voice was calm. Soothing. "It looks like you're in some kind of trouble or you wouldn't be calling me after hours. And I'm also guessing it's either something you don't want friends or family to know about, or else there's no one you can call."

She nodded, lowering the ice pack enough to take another drink of water.

Gus smiled, the curve of his lips warming his face. "You haven't worked for me all that long, Anya, but I got a good feeling when I interviewed you and in the few weeks you've worked for me you've really impressed me. I'm guessing you trust me to a degree—or my job—or you wouldn't have called me, so how about telling me what the problem is. Let's see how I can help you."

Anya put the glass down and swiped at the tears burning her eyelids. She was so embarrassed, at both her stupidity and gullibility, and she wasn't even sure where to begin.

Gus was still sitting close to her on the couch. He reached out a hand and gently wiped away the moisture on her cheeks. For a moment tiny jolts of awareness sizzled through her, a reaction so unexpected it shocked her. Then, just as swiftly it disappeared, and he was Mr. D'Amato, the man she worked for, and she was living in a nightmare.

"Come on," he urged in a soft voice. "Let's see how bad this really is."

Anya knew she had to tell him. He was her only source of help. And certainly his job put him in a position to rescue her, even if it was from her own stupidity. She lowered her gaze, unable to look at him while she talked. "I-I moved to San Antonio a while ago because I wanted something more than Burdette had to offer. Two of my girlfriends moved up here, too, and we see each other once a week."

"Doesn't sound too bad so far." His voice was deep and slow, wrapping around her like a velvet cloth. For a moment she just wanted to dive into him and shut out the ugly world.

"I haven't even gotten to the bad part yet." She drew in a shaky breath and let it out. "I've always been a little…shy. Not the one at the top of everyone's date list. So when I ran into Virgil and he asked me out, I didn't pay any attention to what Stella and Amy said." Tears gathered again and rolled down her cheeks. "Then tonight…" She drew in another shaky breath.

"Take your time. We're in no hurry."

She gave him a watery grin. "You must do this a lot."

He smiled. "Save beautiful maidens?"

The grin disappeared. "I'm far from beautiful. That's why I was so flattered when Virgil… When he… But then he brought those men… He hit me… Those men…"

She dissolved into tears, unable to go on.

Gus drew her gently into his arms, his hands soothing her, but she felt a sudden tension in his body. "You wouldn't by any chance be talking about Virgil Branson, would you?"

She lifted her head. "Yes, why? How do you know Virgil?"

His hands tightened on her for a brief moment. "Darlin', Virgil Branson has been a thorn in my side for longer than I can remember. I never believed in fate before, but I damn sure do now. Otherwise what would have made you call me tonight?"

"You know Virgil?" She frowned, puzzled.

"I'm going to know him even better. Let's get you some hot tea, with a little brandy in it, and we're going to have a long talk. I want to hear everything you can tell me about Virgil Branson. Everything."