She reached for him, trailed her fingers along his jaw, into his hair as he caught her mouth with his, as he swallowed her cries.
He nibbled her lower lip, pulled away and looked down at her, their gazes locking when she would have looked away. Dark eyes burned into hers. Feral. Possessive. Determined.
"Mine." The word came out as a rough growl. A command. But underneath, she heard the uncertainty. Heard the question, sensed the insecurity.
No, not a command. A plea.
She raised her head, brushed her lips over his. Once. Twice. Once more. Locked her gaze to his and nodded. "Yours."
His mouth crashed over hers as he drove himself even deeper, sending her flying even higher. Following her. Protecting her.
With her.
Always.
# #
The man watched the house from his spot across the narrow country road, hidden in the patch of woods. He could make out the faintest glow at the rear of the house, amused himself with the possibilities available to him.
He was free now. Answering to only himself.
Strong. Powerful.
Unstoppable.
Should he act tonight? It would be so easy. Nothing more than child's play.
He would approach the house, find a way in. An unlocked window, perhaps. Or maybe even an unlocked door. He would wait in the shadows, wait until they were sound asleep, secure in the false knowledge that they were safe. Secure. Untouchable.
He would climb the stairs, taking his time, letting the house adjust to his presence. Move toward the bedroom. Would the door be open—or closed? It didn't matter, not for his purposes. He would simply ease inside, each movement soundless, until he stood over the bed.
Then he would watch. Count the seconds, the minutes, until they sensed his presence. Until they felt that first niggle of awareness as instinct alerted them.
But it would be too late. He'd already have the woman, would use her to bend MacGregor to his will. And he would bend. The man was sure of it.
Then he would use the knife on the woman, revel in the feel of metal slicing flesh and muscle. Not all at once. He wanted her to suffer. Wanted both of them to suffer. There would be more power in their deaths that way. And they owed him that, for the way he'd been forced to dispose of his patron. For the way he'd been unable to use his true talents the way he had wanted.
Such a shame.
Such a waste.
So yes, he would make them both suffer for that loss.
A heady feeling washed over him as he pictured every detail. Something almost...light. Joyful. He closed his eyes and breathed in the cold night air. Filled his lungs with it, allowed himself to indulge in the unexpected invigoration.
Yes, it would be so simple. Sneak in tonight. Toy with the woman, sink his blade into her. Slicing. Cutting. Over and over as MacGregor watched. Helpless.
And then...then it would be MacGregor's turn. His one worthy opponent. He would toy with him as well, allow him a brief taste of false victory before ending it. Before anointing himself with MacGregor's blood. Before bathing in the power of his opponent and summoning his strength for his own.
Yes. Yes, he could taste the victory now, feel the excitement dancing across his flesh.
Now. Tonight—
The man's eyes snapped open and he frowned. No. No, that wasn't right. It couldn't be tonight. There was something he needed to do...
Ah, yes. His client. He must take care of his client first.
Tomorrow.
His client.
The woman.
And then MacGregor.
The man tossed one last longing look at the house then turned and walked away, his lips stretched tight in what he imagined was a smile.
Tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Three
"What the fuck do you mean, Boomer and Wolf are gone? Where the fuck are they?"
Mac's roar echoed around the conference room. Saner people would have fled, would have raced out seeking cover from the madman he'd instantly turned into as soon as Daryl had given him the news.
But there were no sane people in here—only Daryl, Chaos, and TR. He'd once thought TR was sane but given the fact she was sitting across the table, one slender had trying to smother her smile, he had to question his earlier assertion.
Daryl and Chaos showed no reaction at all, which only proved his point that they were insane. Every single one of them.
And none of them had an issue with the fact that Boomer and Wolf were gone.
"Fuck!" Mac curled his hand into a fist and brought it down on the table. Coffee mugs shook, their contents splashing over the rim and puddling on the table. The pen by TR's elbow started rolling away, its suicide leap over the edge stopped when she grabbed it. Even Daryl's phone skipped across the polished surface of the table.
Daryl ignored the outburst, leaned back in the chair, and clasped his hands behind his neck. Cool. Calm. Collected. Of course he was. He didn't have a stake in this fucking game.
Mac knew that wasn't a fair assessment—if one of them had a stake, they all had a stake. But Daryl had no idea how twisted Mac's guts were, how he'd been walking the razor edge of insanity since waking up this morning.
Not that he'd had any sleep.
No, Daryl didn't know any of that. Or maybe he did and he was just ignoring it and if that was the case, then fuck him.
"They went wheels up at oh-three-hundred on a last-minute job."
Mac shook his head, bit back another oath. "What about Ox or Flare? Or hell, even Zen. Where are they?"
"Otherwise engaged. You know that. And Reigs has daddy-duty. That leaves Chaos."
Mac narrowed his eyes and glared at Chaos, had to stomp the impulse to launch across the table and pound that fucking smirk right off his fucking face. The fucker knew it, too, because the smirk grew into a smile.
Mac turned back to Daryl. "I think you should be the one to take her."
But Daryl was already shaking his head. "That won't work and you know it. The Senator might recognize me."
"Then fuck it. I'll take her."
"Mac, that won't work." TR had been sitting there for the last thirty minutes, watching the verbal sparring, watching him lose his shit without saying a word—even if she had laughed at him. But now she pushed away from the table and made her way over to him, every inch the professional in her tailored black pants and long cardigan hanging open over a silk royal blue blouse. The color of that blouse darkened the blue of her pale eyes, turning them to the color of the Caribbean. He felt himself drowning in their depths, realized he would gladly lose himself in her warm gaze right here. Right now. And he made a promise to himself that tonight, as soon as this shit was over, he'd pack her up and catch the first plane heading to the Caribbean. He didn't give a shit which island. Any of them. Hell, maybe they'd do some island hopping and hit all of them.
He was so caught up in that idea that the touch of TR's hand against his cheek startled him.
"You can't go, Mac, and you know it. I'm supposed to be meeting him so he can fill me in on what a big, bad guy you are, remember?"
"I can stay in the background. He won't even see me—"
"And what if he does?"
"Then he does. Who gives a shit? This whole plan is fucked up and isn't going to accomplish dick—"
"If that's your way of inspiring confidence, it's not working." TR's smile took the sting out of her words—and made him realize what an ass he was being. She was right. Hell, they were all right.
He was overreacting, letting emotion overrule logic. She'd go to DC and meet with the Senator. Chaos would be there in the background, watching over her. And maybe, if they were lucky, they'd learn something. Find out what the hell was going on.
Because if they didn't, that was it. Mac really would take TR and disappear with her to some lush tropical paradise in the Caribbean.
Mac swallowed back every last one of his objections, damn near choking on them, then stepped back and nodded. "Fine. W
e do it this way." He spun toward Chaos and pointed a steady finger at him. "But I swear to God if you let anything happen to her—"
"Mac, relax." TR's hand closed over his wrist. "It's a meeting. It'll be over in an hour, tops. Depending on the traffic, we'll be back here in time for dinner."
"Yeah, Mac. Listen to your girl. She's smarter than I expected, considering she's with your ugly ass."
TR spun around and pinned Chaos with a lethal glare. "Just because you're going with me doesn't mean I have to like it. And it doesn't mean I have to talk to you so just shut up." She stormed back to the table, the short, thick heels of her black boots clicking against the tile floor. She grabbed her new tote bag and slung it over her shoulder then glared at Chaos again. "Are you ready?"
"Not yet, sweetheart. We need to take some precautions first."
"Precautions? You mean like duct taping your mouth shut?"
"You're a funny one, aren't you? No, sweetheart, I mean security precautions." Chaos leaned down and grabbed the small bag resting by his feet. He plopped it on the table then motioned for TR to take the seat next to him. She hesitated, tossed a questioning glance in Mac's direction, then finally joined Chaos.
Her gaze swept over the gadgets Chaos was pulling from the bag. A small crease furrowed her brow as she reached for a necklace and held it up. "Jewelry? I already have jewelry."
"Not like this, you don't." All teasing was gone from Chaos's voice, replaced with cool professionalism as he explained each piece. What it was, what it was for, how to use it.
"The necklace is a transmitter. We'll be able to hear everything being said."
"Seriously?" TR studied it closer, turning the small jeweled pendant back and forth in her hands. "It looks like a regular necklace."
"That's the whole idea." Chaos grabbed a pen and held it out to her. "Another transmitter but this one also has built-in GPS."
"Why do I need a second one?"
"Because you always have a back-up. Always." Chaos's voice was deadly serious when he answered. TR didn't look away from his steady gaze, didn't flinch at the steel in the other man's eyes. Good—she was taking him seriously. Not that she wouldn't but seeing the close attention she paid to Chaos eased some of the tension knotting Mac's gut.
She replaced her necklace with the new one, reaching behind her to secure the clasp. The pen she slid into the tote bag. "What else?"
A pair of matching earrings was next, which quickly replaced the ones she had put in this morning. Chaos held the last two objects up: two small discs, the size of a watch battery but much thinner. TR leaned forward, squinting, then sat back.
"And they are?"
"Tracking devices."
"Tracking devices?"
"Yeah. Like GPS."
"But you said the pen—"
"Always have a back-up, remember?"
TR pursed her lips then finally nodded. "Right. Back-up. But two of them? Isn't this a bit overboard? I mean, it's just a meeting—"
"Rule Number Three: never assume anything."
"Three? What happened to one and two?"
Mac propped his hip on the edge of the table and crossed his arms in front of him. "You already know them. Rule One: Prepare for anything. Rule Two: always—"
"—have a back-up. Right. Got it." She turned back to Chaos. "So what am I supposed to do with them?"
"Place one in your sock."
"My sock? Really?"
"Yeah. The chances of losing it—or someone finding it there—aren't real high. The other one you can attach to the waistband of your underwear." Chaos leaned forward, a sly grin on his face. "And I will gladly help with that if you need it."
TR snagged both discs from Chaos's hand then leaned forward, a teasing smile on her own face. "No thanks. Something this delicate calls for an expert so I'll have Mac do it."
Chaos erupted in laughter, which was the only thing that stopped Mac from launching across the table and breaking his neck. Well that—and the warning look he got from Daryl. TR wasn't paying attention because she was studying the small discs in the palm of her hand.
"Do these things really work?"
"Which ones?"
TR looked up with a shrug. "All of them, I guess, but I meant these little tracker things."
"Yeah, they work. The ones you have are mid-range and will last about a week. They make others that last longer or work for longer distances but none of them are as good as a chip. And since I don't have time to chip you—"
"I'm sorry. Excuse me?" TR's head shot up. "Did you say chip? Like a microchip? Like the thing they put in dogs?"
"These are a bit more advanced but yeah, you've got the right idea."
TR shook her head. Not just once, but a few times. She sat back, crossed her arms in front of her, and actually slid away from the table. "No. Uh-uh. You're not microchipping me."
Chaos snapped his small bag closed. "I know, that's what I said. We don't have time—"
"Even if we had time, you wouldn't be microchipping me. That's...that's—that is so unconstitutional. So...so big brother. I can't believe—" She frowned, tilted her head to the side then looked at Mac. "Wait a minute. He's just pulling my leg, right? That was a joke."
Mac pursed his lips, shot a glance at Daryl, looking for advice. Daryl hesitated then finally answered.
"Some of us are chipped, yes."
TR's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you serious? You're actually chipped? Like a dog?"
Mac shook his head. "It's not like that. It's—"
"It's unconstitutional! Are you trying to tell me that the government—"
"No, TR. Not the government. And it's voluntary. A precaution in case—" Mac hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. He didn't think she completely understood exactly what they did. And why should she? He'd never told her—he couldn't tell her.
Maybe he didn't have to because he saw the flash of realization in her eyes. Saw the horror and fear in her gaze before she blinked and looked away. "In case some really, really bad shit happens. Is that what you're telling me? So you guys can what—find the bodies at the end of the day?"
"TR, it's not like that—"
"Really? Then what's it like? Because you're standing there telling me your chipped so you can be tracked and I can't imagine why else you would need something like that unless it was because—"
"It's a precaution. Just like those discs in the palm of your hand." Chaos's voice was oddly gentle, filled with patient understanding. Chaos, of all people. But maybe it was best that he was the one who answered because TR's shoulders sagged as some of the tension left her.
"A precaution?"
"That's it. And we control them. Control when they activate, control who can track them. It all falls under Rule Number One."
"Prepare for anything. Yeah. Sure." TR grabbed her tote bag and stood. "Heroes-R-Us, my ass. You're all crazy but whatever. Can we leave now?"
"Yeah—as soon as you put those trackers on."
TR scowled at Chaos then spun around and stormed out of the room. Mac watched her leave then turned to Daryl, saw the same question on his face that Mac had.
"Heroes-R-Us? What the hell did that mean?"
"No idea." Mac wanted to follow her, wanted to ask her what she meant. Wanted to make sure she was okay. But he didn't. If he did, there was a good chance he'd say fuck the meeting and lock her in the bathroom.
So he kept his mouth shut, even when she returned. When he followed her and Chaos out to the lobby then outside to Chaos's car. He even kept his mouth shut when Chaos got in and started it, when he revved the engine and motioned for TR to get in.
Mac wrapped his hand around her arm, stopping her. Those pale blue eyes stared up at him in silent question, filled with emotion he couldn't read. She finally leaned up on her toes and brushed her mouth against his.
"I'll be fine. And when I get back, you can take me out to dinner."
"Yeah?" He forced the knots in his gut to settle and pasted a smile on his
face. "How about that Mexican place on York Road?"
"Oh no, you're not getting off that easy. I'm thinking that new fancy steak house that just opened. The expensive one."
"I think I can handle that." Mac cupped her face with his hands and claimed her mouth with a kiss. Deep and lingering yet over too soon when the loud blast of a horn made TR jump and step back. She released a sharp breath then glared at the car.
"I think I might kill him."
Mac laughed then opened the door for her, forced himself to close it and step away.
Forced his hands to unclench as Chaos pulled out of the lot.
Quiet steps approached from his right side. A hand dropped to his shoulder, squeezed, let go.
"It's just a meeting. Everything'll be fine."
"Yeah?" He turned to Daryl, not bothering to hide his apprehension. "Tell that to all the fucking hairs standing up on the back of my fucking neck."
Chapter Twenty-Four
"Why Chaos?"
The man in the driver's seat turned toward her, dark brows pulled low over dark blue eyes. He wasn't bad looking but there was something about him that set TR's nerves on edge. Arrogance, definitely. The man knew he was good looking and could probably charm a granny out of her panties but it was more than that.
Dangerous? Oh yes. Absolutely—but no more than Mac or Daryl or Ryder or even Jon. He had that same edgy energy, that same absolute stillness that hinted at the potential deadliness resting below the surface, coiled and ready to strike with lethal precision when you least expected it.
Except for maybe now. Now, he just looked annoyed. And impatient. And irritated.
He pressed his lips together until they were nothing more than a bloodless line and pulled in a deep breath through his nose. The furrow lines between his brows deepened as he exhaled.
"What?" He practically spat the word at her, like he didn't understand her question or couldn't comprehend why she had asked in the first place.
She lowered her voice and spoke slowly, carefully enunciating each word. "Why do they call you Chaos?"
"Because they do."
"But your name is Derrick."
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