by Elle Kennedy
Liam grinned. “Damn right.”
“So yeah, maybe you’re straight. Maybe you’re bi, or gay, or maybe this attraction you’re feeling toward Sullivan is just plain old curiosity. Either way, you’ll never know for sure unless you talk to him about it.”
The grin faded fast. “What do I even say?”
Bailey shrugged. “Tell him you liked the kiss. Tell him you want to do it again.” Another shrug. “Or tell him the opposite. Doesn’t really matter—just tell him something. You two can’t keep going around treating each other like strangers. You’re BFFs, for fuck’s sake.”
A heavy breath slid out of his chest. “You’re right.”
Approval shone in her eyes. “Of course I am. Now, get out there and talk to him.” To punctuate that, she gave his butt a little slap and nudged him toward the door.
Despite the excessive pounding of his heart, Liam managed to drop a quick kiss on the top of her head. “You’re one in a million, B.” Then, before he could change his mind, he marched out of the room.
He found Sullivan on the living room couch, eyes glued to some French reality show flashing on the TV screen. In his cargo pants and wifebeater, the other man looked casual as hell, but there was nothing casual in his expression when he lifted his head.
“Hey,” Sullivan said gruffly.
“Hey.” Clearing his throat, Liam headed for the sofa. He settled on the opposite end and met his friend’s gaze. “So...listen...I wanted to apologize for—”
“No,” Sully cut in.
He blinked in surprise. “What?”
“You have no reason to apologize, mate.” Embarrassment reddened Sullivan’s cheeks. “I’m the one who needs to say sorry. I...um...Oh bloody hell, I’m sorry for doing what I did, okay? I was all wound up from the boss’s sex fest, and pissed off about being ignored, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Liam opened his mouth to interject, but his friend wasn’t done.
“I know you’re not into blokes, and I’m an asshole for doing what I did,” Sullivan hurried on, sounding sheepish as hell. “Sometimes I forget that not everyone is on board for all the kinky shit I’m into. I shouldn’t have kissed you, and I’m sorry.”
Liam’s throat turned to dust. There were so many things he wanted to say.
It’s all right. I wanted it too.
I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.
I don’t know what the hell is going on with me.
But the words refused to exit his mouth. All he seemed capable of doing was sitting there in silence.
“So...” Sullivan searched his face. “Are we cool?”
Liam drew an unsteady breath, difficult to do when his chest felt so damn tight. He thought about Bailey’s advice, knew he should follow it, but...goddamn it, he wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t fucking ready.
So instead, he took the out that Sullivan had dangled in front of him.
He nodded, met his friend’s eyes, and said, “Yeah. We’re cool.”
* * *
Noelle zipped up her suitcase and rolled it toward the door, then did a quick scan of the guest room to make sure she had everything. She was eager to leave, but since she wasn’t planning on coming back anytime soon, she couldn’t afford to leave anything behind.
And God, “eager” didn’t even begin to describe her need to flee. She was a loner, and she didn’t fare well with others crowding her personal space, especially when they were two men who reminded her of Jim.
For some irritating reason, Sullivan Port and Liam Macgregor were still at the penthouse, despite the numerous not so subtle hints Noelle had dropped about them not being welcome. Bailey, however, seemed to want them around, and the trio had been spending a lot of time together, seeing the sights, enjoying the Paris nightlife. Which was equally perplexing, because Bailey was a loner too.
Just like her.
Yep, they were both loners. Destined to be alone forever.
Oh, stop the pity party. You’re better than that.
She was, wasn’t she? And besides, hadn’t she just had an opportunity to change her loner status? Hadn’t Jim all but poured his heart out to her?
And like the coldhearted bitch she was, she’d walked away from him.
Still, as guilty as she felt about deserting the man after he’d opened his heart to her, she found his naïveté so damn infuriating. How could he possibly believe they were capable of having a real future? They’d hurt each other too many times over the years. She’d hated Jim for so long she didn’t remember how to love him.
And even if she did believe, for one second, that he’d loved her all those years ago, they couldn’t go back. She wasn’t the young girl he’d fallen in love with. She’d changed, and definitely not for the better.
No, they weren’t destined for happily-ever-after. But at least she’d ensured that Jim could have a happily-ever-after with his kid.
Jim had Cate now, and Noelle couldn’t deny she liked the girl. Cate was strong and smart and fearless, and although Noelle got the feeling that the girl would be a handful, she figured Jim deserved a little gray hair.
A knock on the door made her sigh. “What do you want?” she called out to the intruder.
“Why so rude?” Sullivan popped through the door, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I thought we were buds now.”
“We are not, nor will we ever be, ‘buds.’” She shot him a cool look. “What do you want, Port?”
He held up a manila envelope. “This was just FedEx’d for you.”
Frowning, Noelle accepted the envelope, studied the return address, and handed it right back. “Not interested.”
She gripped the handle of her suitcase and headed for the door.
Sullivan swiftly intercepted her path with his six-foot-three frame. “Bloody hell. Why is every woman on the planet so bloody stubborn? Would it kill you to open it?”
“Would it kill you to get out of my way?”
“Yes.”
Noelle gritted her teeth. “Get out of the way.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and said, “Nope.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, am I going to have to pull out my knife?”
“You can if you want, but you’re still about to get some advice, whether or not I get stabbed.”
She blew out a breath. “Spit it out, then. I have a plane to catch.”
“You’re making a mistake,” he began.
“Sorry you feel that way. See you later.”
She tried to brush past him, but he sidestepped her. “Look, Liam has this theory—he thinks some people are hardwired to fuck one another.”
Noelle couldn’t help but snort.
“It’s chemistry,” Sullivan went on. “Bodies needing to screw. But I think the same thing applies to love.” He offered a sheepish look. “You can’t help who you fall for, love. And sometimes, the person you think is all wrong for you, well, they’re actually the right one.”
“Thank you, Ann Landers. Will you get out of my way now?”
“Fine, be stubborn. You’re the one who’ll wind up alone.”
“Story of my life, honey.”
“Whatevs.” With great annoyance, he dropped the envelope on top of her suitcase. “Just open the damn thing, would ya?” With that, he marched off, leaving her to stare at the envelope.
The familiar address, the scratchy male handwriting.
Goddamn him.
Couldn’t he leave well enough alone? They weren’t destined to be together. They’d fallen in love when they were kids. She, a foolish young girl who’d believed she’d found her knight. He, a soldier following orders.
Maybe he’d loved her. Maybe he hadn’t. It didn’t change everything that happened afterward, or erase all the years they’d spent plotting each other’s deaths.
They couldn’t come back from that, damn it. She knew it, and yet her curiosity only heightened as she gazed at the envelope.
Despite the warning bells going off in her head, Noelle picked up the envelope. She dug a fingernail under the flap and ripped it open, then extracted the single sheet of paper inside of it. God. Had he written her a love letter?
No, the paper was too glossy for that, she realized. It was a photograph, then, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn it over and take a look.
She should just throw it away. Toss it in the wastebasket, get on her jet, and spend the next two months on her private island, forgetting all about Jim Morgan. Learning to hate him again.
But the curiosity refused to ebb, and eventually, she took a deep breath and flipped the photo over.
Chapter 40
Noelle found him on the terrace. His strong forearms rested on the railing as he gazed out at the property, and although he didn’t turn around, the tensing of his shoulders told her that he knew she was there.
After a moment of hesitation, she nervously raked a hand through her hair and walked up beside him.
“It was you,” she said quietly.
Jim turned, his blue eyes somber, his voice gruff. “It was me,” he confirmed.
She swallowed. “When?”
“A year and a half after I left Paris. But you knew that.”
“How’d you do it?”
“You know that too.” He shrugged. “Snapped his neck and shoved him down the stairs. I knew the coroner would blame the broken neck on the fall.”
Her tone turned incredulous. “And then you hung around and snapped a picture of it?”
He nodded.
“Why? Why take a picture? Why kill him at all?”
“I took the picture because I was planning on sending it to you, so you would know it wasn’t an accident. So you’d know that you got your revenge, after all.” He sighed. “And then all that stuff with Ariana happened, and in my anger, I decided not to give you that closure. I’m a real shit, huh?”
“Damn right you are.” She shook her head as the truth of what he’d done sank in. All these years she’d cursed fate, cursed the drunken stumble that had stolen her vengeance from her, but René hadn’t fallen down the stairs like she’d thought. Jim had killed him.
For her.
Noelle stared at him with wide eyes. “I can’t believe you did that.” She bit her lip. “You still haven’t told me why.”
“I think we both know the answer to that one too.” He shot her a meaningful look. “Don’t we?”
Her throat closed up to the point of suffocation. “You killed René because you loved me.”
“Yes.”
“You kept tabs on me after you left.”
“Yes.”
“And then you went back and killed my stepfather for me.”
“Yes.”
“Because you really did love me.”
“Yes.”
Noelle could barely see his face through the sheen of tears obstructing her vision. “You weren’t pretending. You really did fall in love with me.”
“Yes,” he said once more, and then he brushed away her tears with his fingertips. “I loved you then, and I love you now.”
Her heart nearly soared right out of her chest. She stared into his midnight blue eyes, but this time she didn’t search them, didn’t probe or assess or look for any hint of malice or dishonesty.
Because she knew he was telling her the truth.
“Hey, Jim?”
His gaze never left hers. “Yeah?”
“Will you kiss me?”
He let out a deep growl. “It’s about fucking time.”
And then his mouth crashed down on hers in a passionate kiss that stole the breath right out of her lungs. His lips were as delicious as she remembered, his tongue greedy and dominant, filling her mouth, coaxing and teasing until she was moaning with abandon.
She clung to his broad shoulders, holding on tight, never wanting to let him go. God, she finally had him back. Her sexy soldier, the gruff, intense man who’d swept her off her feet all those years ago and shown her the kind of love she’d never thought possible.
She kissed him back with everything she had, while her heart pounded against her rib cage, lighter and fuller than it had been in a long, long time.
“You have got to be kidding me!”
They broke apart as a shocked voice echoed behind them, both of them spinning around to find Cate standing in the doorway.
“For the love of God.” Morgan’s daughter gaped at her father. “The picture actually worked? You two have the most fucked-up concept of romance.”
“Hey,” he said sharply. “Watch your fucking language, young lady.”
Cate snorted, then looked over at Noelle. “Welcome back.”
Noelle smiled awkwardly. “Thanks.”
“Are you going to be my new mom?”
The panic that shot through Noelle almost knocked her on her ass, but then the teenager started to laugh.
“Oh relax. I’m just pulling your leg. I hope we can be friends, though.”
“We can try. But you should know that I don’t have a lot of friends,” Noelle admitted. “I’m not entirely sure how all that friendship stuff works.”
Cate flashed her a grin. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” The girl edged back to the door and glanced at her father again. “Is it cool if I go into town with Ash? I need to buy a few more things.”
“Sure. Do you still have the gun I gave you?”
Cate rolled her eyes. “Getting overprotective on me already, huh?”
“Hey, I have years to make up for,” he protested.
“Ugh. I guess I’ll let it slide. This time.”
Jim chuckled as his daughter disappeared into the kitchen, then turned to Noelle with a crooked grin. “See what I have to look forward to?”
She grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll be around to put out any fires.”
His eyes suddenly narrowed, as if her words had sparked his memory. “By the way, I got a very interesting phone call yesterday.”
She slanted her head. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah. See, I’d sent Sully back to the airfield in Paris to take care of a little rat problem, and what do you know, Sergio was dead in his office when Sully got there. You remember Sergio, don’t you, babe? The man who let a contract killer crash our plane?”
“Hmmm. Sounds vaguely familiar.”
Jim’s lips twitched. “Would you happen to know anything about this little mystery?”
She gave him a sheepish look. “He betrayed you. What else was I supposed to do?”
After a beat, Jim burst out laughing. “God, I love you.”
Noelle looked him square in the eye and said, “I love you too.”
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next heart-pounding novel in Elle Kennedy’s Killer Instincts series,
MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE
Available soon from Signet Eclipse.
1
“Being a hermit isn’t healthy, you know.” Bailey paused to shoot a pointed stare at her friend before continuing to wander through the cozy living room of Paige’s isolated Somerset country house.
Wall-to-wall bookshelves took up nearly half of the room, crammed with hundreds of titles, which all looked well-read, and the lingering scent of smoke wafting out of the massive stone fireplace hinted that Paige had lit a fire recently. It was obvious that the woman spent a lot of time in this room, which corroborated Bailey’s belief that her friend was a total recluse.
“Says who?” From her perch on the overstuffed sofa, Paige sipped her Merlot, unperturbed by the accusation.
Watching the other woman daintily hold the stem of her wineglass was almost jarring. With her slight frame, pale red hair, and fair, f
reckled face, Paige Grant was cute and delicate—and the last person you’d imagine to be a ruthless assassin. But Bailey supposed all of her colleagues were the same in that way. Sweet and harmless on the surface, hardened and deadly beneath it.
Bailey herself was no stranger to death and violence. Seven years in the CIA followed by five working for a dangerous assassin had definitely hardened her. She didn’t see the world as sunshine and rainbows—she saw it for what it was: cold, toxic, and treacherous, with rare moments of warmth, love, and compassion slicing through the darkness like shards of moonlight. If you were lucky. She hadn’t experienced a lot of warm-and-fuzzy moments in her life, not as an adult, and certainly not as a child.
But right now was one of those moments. Spending the weekend in a beautiful albeit rundown English farmhouse, sipping on deliciously smooth wine and catching up with one of her best friends. Sunshine and rainbows, all right.
“Says me,” Bailey announced, returning to the couch and flopping down on the other end. “You’re too young and beautiful to be hidden away here. You should be out and about, kicking ass and breaking hearts.”
Paige snorted, then set her glass on the weathered oak coffee table and spoke in her crisp British accent. “First, I kick plenty of ass, thank you very much. Second, I’m not interested in breaking any hearts, but if you’re hinting that I need a good shagging, then don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of blokes at my beck and call. And third, you say all this as if you’re a social butterfly, when we both know for a fact that you, my dear, are as big a loner as I am.”
Bailey couldn’t argue with that. Loner was her middle name. But still, her friend’s shut-in ways bothered her. Paige’s bubbly personality was completely incongruous to a life of isolation.
“At least I attended our boss’s wedding,” she said mockingly.
“You did not! They eloped.”
Bailey grinned. “Yeah, but I flew to Costa Rica after I heard the news and dropped off a wedding present.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, I couriered a gift. And mine was most certainly better than yours.”
Curiosity flickered through Bailey. “What’d you get them?”
