by Zoe Blake
Paine’s voice was thick and rough from sleep.
Her startled eyes connected with his amused ones as she dropped the chain.
“What makes you think I’m yours?”
One raven eyebrow quirked up over his left eye. “Do you want me to prove it again to you, babygirl?”
Mirage lowered her gaze, unable to match his intense, knowing one.
She played with a loose strand of yarn in the wool blanket. “Why?” she whispered.
Paine brushed a curl back behind her ear, caressing her cheek as he did it. “Why what, baby?”
“Why do you want me? Why are you doing this? Why haven’t you kil—”
Paine pressed a finger to her lips.
“I have told you. You fascinate me.”
Mirage’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I fascinate you? I fascinate you? Do you have any idea how insane that sounds? I… I… ruined your reputation with that very pink diamond you wear around your neck. I… I… tried to kill you! We are in the middle of…. of… where the fuck are we?”
“Wales,” offered Paine helpfully.
That threw Mirage off her rant for a moment. “Seriously? Wales?”
Paine shrugged. “Pearly’s been to my London safe house for poker night.”
She raised her hands in frustration. “Yes! Yes! See? Exactly that. Pearly. I took out a contract to have you killed! And now we are hiding out in the middle of fucking Wales.”
“What is your point, Mira?”
“Why on earth would I fascinate you? Why would you want me?”
“Sweetheart, if you don’t know the answer to that, then any man who came before me should be shot.”
Mirage bit her lip at the bitter reminder. Paine had shot Dev. Dev, the man she’d thought she loved. The man she’d risked it all to avenge. She would love nothing better than to throw Paine’s words back in his face, but in her heart of hearts, she knew the truth. The truth which had always been there. Hiding in the dark, willfully ignored. Dev had never loved her. He’d just been using her, and worse, she had never truly loved him, just the idea of him.
It was a hard lesson to learn and one she was not going to forget.
Raising her chin, she said, “Listen. If all this is just some charade because you want something from me, some job you need done, I would rather you just come out and tell me what it is rather than pretend that we’re in some kind of fucked up relationship.”
Paine stood up with Mirage in his arms and tossed her lengthwise back down onto the sofa. The blanket about her dislodged. She could feel the scrape of his jeans against her soft skin as he straddled her hips. Placing his hands on the armrest, he loomed over her. His crystal blue eyes lit with anger.
“I want you to listen now and listen closely. There is nothing I want from you but this beautiful body and that even more beautifully fucked up, amazingly intelligent mind of yours. This is not some kind of pretend anything, baby. This is the real deal. You think you’re the first person who has tried to kill me? Logan, the closet thing I have to a friend, has tried twice. So I’ve got news for you…it’s not a deal breaker for me. Hell, that just makes me want you more. Let’s just say I like your kind of crazy.”
“I won’t love you. I’m warning you now. I am absolutely determined never to fall for that trick again.”
Paine threw his head back with laughter before lowering his lips to hers. Giving her a hard kiss, he said, “That’s it. Just keep throwing those challenges at me.”
“If you aren’t the most exasperating, hard-headed—”
Her rant was cut short when she saw three crimson beads of light start to dance across his chest. Gun sights.
“Paine!” she screamed.
Throwing her body forward, Mirage knocked him off balance. They both tumbled to the floor just as the wood mantel over the fireplace exploded in a shower of splinters. Paine grabbed the blanket and threw it over her form to protect her from the wood shards. Covering her body with his own, he reached out with his right arm to flip the sofa on its side, dragging her behind its protective bulk. The crimson laser sights danced around the room searching for their target. Another bullet took out the only lamp in the small cottage’s living room.
Mirage stayed low to the ground. “It’s Pearly. He found us,” she gasped, her breath short from shock.
Paine’s brow wrinkled as he stared at the laser dots. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Pearly works alone. There are at least three shooters.”
There was another volley of shots. A vase on the bookshelf at the end of the room shattered.
“He’s also a hell of a better shot and doesn’t waste unnecessary ammo,” drawled Paine.
Mirage helped him turn the heavy, mahogany coffee table over and place it in front of the overturned sofa. They crouched behind its smaller surface.
“Maybe he brought help because it’s you?” offered Mirage right before she covered her ears as another round of bullets lodged in the wall and broke the glass on a simple daisy print by the front door.
His mouth quirked up in a smile. “Why, Mirage, the threat of death does wonders for your disposition. I do believe that is the first time you have complimented me.”
“Will you please be serious? Someone is shooting at us!” threw Mirage over her shoulder as she crawled on her hands and knees to peek around the sofa’s edge.
Paine gave her a slap on her bare ass. “I knew you’d start to soften towards me.”
“If you don’t knock it off and come up with a plan, I’m going to throw you in front of one of those bullets,” stormed Mirage even as her cheeks pinked from his teasing remarks and the feel of his hand on her ass.
“The plan is for you to crawl over to that door there. It leads down into the root cellar where it will be safer. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Paine crouched low and made his way to the kitchen. Mirage fumed. I guess he assumes I’m going to obey without question, she thought as she followed after him on her hands and knees, staying low and awkwardly clutching at the blanket over her shoulders.
As she rounded the corner, Paine was fishing something out of a kitchen drawer. She figured he would go for the knives, the only possible weapon. Which made it all the more confusing when he drew out a corkscrew. It was the kind with a small wooden handle running perpendicular to a vicious looking silver screw.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“Goddammit, Mira. I thought I told you to go down into the root cellar,” he barked.
“Yes, and I’m marvelous at taking orders. What are you going to do with that?” Mirage asked again, unfazed by his anger as she nodded toward the corkscrew.
“Take care of business.” His voice a dark monotone.
“Don’t you want a knife?”
“No. Now do as I say. I don’t want to be worried about you while I go out there.”
“You’re not going to kill them, are you?”
After a long pause, there was another spray of bullets. This time more sporadic. It was as if the shooters were getting impatient and had decided to just pepper the whole house with bullets and hope the occupants inside died of lead poisoning.
His blue eyes seemed to darken and harden. “They shot at you. Put my woman in danger. Yes, I’m going to kill them.”
Mirage was startled by the fierce possessiveness of his words. He almost had her believing he actually cared for her. More unsettled by that thought than by the bullets whizzing over her head, Mirage turned to locate the door to the root cellar just as he was unlatching a window on the side of the house. She watched as he slipped one leg over the sill, hugging the wall then rolling out over the other side, slipping away into the darkness.
“Be careful, Paine,” she whispered to the dark shadows beyond.
Unable to bear being down in the cold, dank root cellar where she wouldn’t know what was happening, Mirage dragged the coffee table in front of her as she huddled in a corner of the living room between the wall and a heavy
sideboard. She thought about trying to make her way into the bedroom to retrieve her clothes but then thought better of it. As a point of grim humor, she wondered what would be worse, being found dead naked or being found dead in that stupid cat T-shirt. Definitely the cat T-shirt.
For what seemed an eternity, she watched the macabre dance of three lights tracking over the walls and furniture. There were long pauses and then there’d be a hail of bullets, while other times just a single shot or two.
Then one light disappeared.
In horror, Mirage looked down at her front, expecting to see a crimson bead of light shining on her. A mark of death.
There was nothing there.
Then a second red laser dot disappeared.
Paine was slowly taking the shooters out…one by one.
Trying to still her ragged breathing, Mirage strained to listen, hoping for a hint of what was taking place outside in the darkness.
There was the sound of shouting. Then a few shots but none hit the house. It sounded as if the shooter was aiming at something outside. Paine.
Mirage’s chest clutched at the thought of Paine lying dead in the mud outside. What a dizzying turn of events. Not two weeks ago, she’d wanted nothing more than that man cold in his grave. Now the very thought of it struck her with icy dread.
Silence.
Nothing but silence.
Mirage waited and waited.
Her head tilted to the right when she heard the soft scrape of a boot outside. Then a metallic click as the front doorknob turned. Belatedly, she realized she should have grabbed a knife to use as a weapon of her own. Too late now.
The door opened.
Mirage pushed against the wall. Willing herself invisible.
There was a cautious step inside.
The creak of an interior door opening, probably to the root cellar. The click of a light switch. A long pause.
Mirage held her breath.
The footsteps moved into the living room.
She ducked her head, trying to curl her body in, to hide behind the overturned coffee table.
“Here, kitty, kitty.”
Mirage came flying out of her hiding place and ran straight into his arms. Uncaring as the blanket dropped to her feet, the warmth of his flannel enveloped her as his strong arms closed around her body. She buried her head in his shoulder, the scent of his cologne and the feel of his arms calming her. One of his hands slipped into her hair as he pulled her closer.
“Paine. I thought you were dead,” she mumbled against his shirt.
Paine pulled her head away from his shoulder and looked into her eyes. He gave her a reassuring wink. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, baby.” He then gave her a kiss on the forehead. Leaning down, he tossed a small black duffel bag to her. “Put these on. We have to get out of here.”
Hurriedly taking the bag, Mirage looked inside. It was a change of clothing. And a gun.
She picked up the .38. “You had a gun?”
Paine just nodded.
“Then why the hell did you use a corkscrew?”
Paine shrugged his shoulders. “It seemed more sporting that way. Give ‘em a fighting chance.”
Mirage just shook her head at his arrogance as she gratefully slipped into the yoga pants and top, both in her signature black.
She watched as Paine surveyed the damage to the cottage. There wasn’t a single wall that didn’t have bullet holes in it. The asshats also seemed to have shot every delicate piece of glass or porcelain in the entire place.
“Pearly’s going to be pissed.”
“Because someone jumped on his contract?” asked Mirage.
“Nope, this is his house,” Paine laughed, throwing an arm over Mirage’s shoulders as they walked out of the cottage to their car hidden off to the side in some brush. Leave it to Paine to do something as arrogant and outlandish as breaking into the house of the person who was hunting him down, thought Mirage.
She watched as his phone cast an eerie glow inside his car. The contact he chose said only ‘Logan.’
The phone started to ring.
Mirage looked at him quizzically. “Is that the Logan?”
Paine nodded as he steered the car around a dark curve with one hand, holding the phone in the other.
That was the Logan he meant? His closest friend who had tried to kill him twice?
“Hello, my friend. Still after your little black widow?”
“My little black widow is here with me now. You’re on speaker. What have you learned?”
“Mirage? Hello, beautiful. Pleasure to make the acquaintance of anyone who tries to kill Paine,” quipped Logan good-naturedly.
“It’s nice to meet you as well,” responded Mirage awkwardly.
“I always wondered. Was that you who made off with that lovely little 200 carat sapphire and diamond necklace from that private bank in Germany?”
“I…uh…well…” Mirage cast a glance at Paine. “A lady never tells, Logan.”
Logan laughed. “I knew it was you. We should plan a heist together sometime. I’m sure it would be a successful partnership.”
Mirage watched as Paine frowned. Taking Logan off speakerphone, he growled, “The only person she will be partnering with is me, you got that?”
Mirage could still hear Logan’s chuckle. “You want to keep the little gem all to yourself. I understand.”
“What have you learned?”
“Pearly dropped the contract. He’s currently in South Africa. Said he couldn’t kill you because you still owe him twenty bucks from our last poker game.”
Paine smirked. “He might change his mind when he finds out what happened to his house.”
Paine related to Logan the events at the cottage.
“Well, that brings me to my next point. You have yourself in some hot water, my friend. Remember my warning about The Syndicate?”
Paine had already suspected who was behind the hit crew. He should have known The Syndicate would find out about his and Mirage’s…disagreement. They had eyes and ears everywhere. It was of no surprise to him that they would try to eradicate both him and Mirage despite their usefulness to them, before it became a problem dropped at their doorstep.
Paine nodded. “I thought as much. Not a crack group, though.”
“They’re scrambling. Not many want to take someone of your reputation on. Figure it’s a suicide mission. So they are sending newbies into the field who don’t know any better.”
“That won’t last. With my past, they’ll eventually find someone willing to take the risk.”
“Stay safe. I will let you know if I find out anything else.”
Mirage didn’t need Paine to tell her. She had overheard.
The Syndicate now had a contract out to kill both of them.
Chapter 9
Mirage grew thoughtful as they drove off into the night. “I’m sorry I got us into this mess.”
Paine brushed off her apology. “I’m not.”
“Really?”
“I met you during a chaotic disaster; it makes sense I would find you again in the middle of a chaotic disaster.”
“Hey, it hasn’t been proven yet that I caused that coup in Turkey,” teased Mirage.
Their laughter broke the tension in the car. Only a pair of criminals would find humor while dealing with their current situation.
“Do you ever regret it?”
“Being a criminal?”
Mirage nodded.
“Nope. First person I ever hit was the man who had been beating on my mom for years. The moment I was big enough, I beat on him.”
“Your father?”
Paine’s fingers visibly tightened around the steering wheel. “I don’t like to call him that, but yeah. Whoever said violence doesn’t solve anything was lying. That piece of shit crawled away and never returned. That’s when I became a thief. Needed to steal to help out my mother and younger brother. I started with cigarettes. I would steal cartons at a time and the
n sell the individual packs. My stealing gave them both a comfortable and stable life, so, no, I don’t regret it for one moment.”
Mirage smiled. “Me neither. As I see it, all we’re really doing is transferring wealth. Stealing from one filthy rich person to give to another.”
“Exactly,” agreed Paine.
“Besides, I do my part. The money I get? I launder it through a charity that looks the other way. They take twenty percent.”
Paine reached over and stroked her thigh. “I knew my little ice queen had a heart in there somewhere.”
Mirage blushed at his teasing remarks. He really was the most intriguing man. A strange mix of anger and teasing humor. Of violence and tenderness.
“My name is… Miranda… Miranda Foster,” she whispered. It felt strange to say her real name out loud. Mirage hadn’t uttered her name or been called by it in over fifteen years.
Paine reached over and pushed a curl behind her ear before stroking her cheek. “My Mira.”
“It’s why I freaked when you called me that…it was like you knew who I really was,” she offered, still looking down at her hands, too nervous and unsure to meet his gaze.
“I always knew who you were Mira. I just didn’t realize I had the right name.”
Mirage looked into his blue eyes, captivated. The spell was only broken when he had to turn his attention back to the road.
“Well, Miranda Foster, I’m Paine Darwin and it is a real pleasure to meet you.”
Mirage felt a stab of disappointment. Summoning up a half-hearted smile, she said, “You don’t have to tell me your real name if you don’t want to. I don’t expect it.”
“That is my real name. Paine Darwin.”
“Your mother named you Pain? P-a-i-n?”
“The way my mother tells it, it was a very long and painful labor, so it was the first word that popped into her head when the nurse asked my name. And it’s Paine with an ‘e’,” he corrected.
“Huh. I always just figured it was ‘no e’ Pain.”
“That works too.”
Two hours later, they pulled into a small, one-story hotel in some no-name town. It was surrounded by trees on two sides and a steep cliff dropping off on the other.
