Lethal Nights

by Lora Leigh

  If there was one thing Lorena Vasilyev would not be able to tolerate, it would be that the son of the man she’d had murdered had found a mate. A woman he gave his heart to willingly, when even trickery couldn’t gain his father’s.

  Pulling out his phone, he made his call to Ivan to request the team Sawyer required. As he’d promised the other man, they’d be on a jet heading to Hagerstown within the hour.

  Then he turned and headed to the front room where he’d left Emma Jane earlier. The only chance he had of finding Matt Lauren was the knowledge she might have of where he’d hide or whom he would run to. At the moment, he was the only connection Ilya had to Emma Jane’s assailants. The only chance Ilya had of striking at them first and ensuring he never had to explain the shame of his past or the danger he may have brought on her.

  chapter twelve

  Emma Jane sat, still and silent, and listened as Ilya told her what Sawyer had found and they suspected had been placed there before Matt had broken into the house. A device that analyzed Ilya’s security protocols and had the ability to possibly hack the codes he and Sawyer were changing every day.

  If that weren’t bad enough, frightening enough, then he told her that Matt had been bailed from jail before daybreak by his parents and had completely disappeared.

  That sounded like Matt, she thought as Ilya sat quiet now, waiting for her to give him the information he needed. As she watched him, her gaze slid to the mark on his face, and even the dragon’s image was filled with demand.

  Where would Matt go? Who would hide him?

  How could he and Sawyer find him?

  They’d kill him.

  As she stared back at Ilya, she knew in that moment if he got his hands on Matt, then her ex-husband was dead. Sawyer wouldn’t stop him either. He wasn’t just a Brute Force agent working with Ilya. She’d watched them talking several times, not that she’d heard what they were talking about, but she’d watched their body language, their expression.

  Sawyer was just as hard core as Ilya. They were the type of men who had killed before and, according to the limitations of their particular code of honor, would kill again. And killing Matt for attempting to help whoever wanted her dead would be within the limits those two had set for themselves.

  “Emma Jane.” Something gentle, compassionate, flashed in his gaze as he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. “This is your life. There’s no doubt he was helping your assailants.”

  From where she sat facing him on the couch, their knees nearly touching, she could see the scars she’d learned lay beneath the tattoo of the dragon. They were carefully disguised by the ink but still there all the same.

  She knew from what she’d read about him that the dragon was documented as far back as his teen years, which meant the scars had come even sooner.

  What kind of life had her dragon led that had made him this hard? That had made it so easy to decide to kill a man, for any reason, let alone a woman.

  “What proof do you have that he was helping them?” She twisted her fingers together as her gaze lowered from Ilya’s. “Matt isn’t a violent person, Ilya. Not like that. A bully, yes. But not violent.”

  Or was he?

  How many times had Matt told her he’d kill her or have her killed if she divorced him? The only thing his parents liked about him was the fact that she was his wife. Even they had no idea how to deal with him as the years had passed.

  “Do you want to see the video the cameras we placed around the tree line recorded?” His voice was still low, filled with understanding. “There was at least one other person with him, though he was smart enough to keep his face from being recorded. The moment Matt started toward the house, the bursts of interference to the security began. He knew.”

  Ilya was trying not to hurt her, she thought, almost amused. It was obvious he had no idea how to be consoling, because that was definitely a gleam of murder in his gaze.

  “You’ll kill him.” She lifted her gaze to him, staring back at him painfully. “If you find him, you won’t return him in shape to stand trial or to be questioned by Eric. You’ll get whatever information you can beat out of him before you kill him.”

  It wasn’t a question and they both knew it.

  His features turned implacable, sharper. This was her Ilya, her dragon. The man who would kill because of her.

  Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t want him to kill because of her. There was so much more to him than the dragon who believed he had to protect everyone he took responsibility for. And that was her Ilya. He wasn’t a man who enjoyed killing, but he did it, when he felt it was needed.

  “Emma Jane, he was willing to aid the men who came into your home with the intent of doing you harm,” he reminded her, his tone carefully modulated, gentle. “Have you forgotten that somehow?”

  She jerked to her feet, offended by not just his tone but his words as well.

  “I’m no imbecile, Ilya, so don’t speak to me as though I am.” She stabbed her finger back at him before clenching her teeth and pacing away from him.

  She was scared for him, not of him. She was scared for herself and what lengths this man would go to ensure her safety, her life. There had to be limits, didn’t there?

  “You are a very intelligent woman,” he stated, his tone neither angry nor frustrated. “Even more, you’re very perceptive, and I won’t try to lie to you. Ever. Will I kill him?” He inhaled slowly. “If not over this, then I have no doubt he will push me to that point eventually.” He shrugged as though now was as good as anytime. “The now is what concerns me though. Now he’s working with professionals determined to take you from me, Emma Jane. I won’t allow that.”

  It was like a core of pure titanium suddenly flashed in his gaze, in his expression.

  “Swear to me you won’t kill him,” she whispered. “You won’t order Sawyer to. Tell me you’ll bring him back alive.”

  Silence stretched between them and it was telling.

  Tears filled her eyes and she fought the sob aching to be released. The pain that welled inside her was almost impossible to push back.

  She loved this man. She loved him so much that she’d be damned if she’d allow him to kill a man in cold blood for her.

  “No.” She had to force the word out while choking back a cry. “No.”

  His head tilted to the side, a frown hovering over his brow, causing the tattoo to lower its scaled head imperceptibly as though it too were confused.

  “Why, Emma Jane?” He shook his head as his fingers seemed to curl as though to fist before relaxing once more. “Do you want to die, baby? Do you think I’ll allow that?”

  Three quick, jerky breaths pulled the tears and sobs back far enough that she could talk without breaking down.

  “If I cry before we arrive at Mom and Dad’s for lunch, then Daddy will be cross with you and Ronan will probably try to hit you or something,” she said, her breath hitching. “And I’m a very ugly crier. I wail and my face goes all splotchy…”

  A tear slipped free and her lips trembled as she stared back at his suddenly panicked expression.

  “No. Baby, no.” He rushed to her and pulled her into his arms, one hand at the back of her head as his other arm held her close. “I’m sorry. Please, you can’t cry, Emma Jane.”

  Clasping her face between his palms, he kissed the tear from her cheek, kissed her trembling lips.

  “You are right. He’ll show up eventually and Eric will catch him. You’re right,” he swore to her.

  Ilya knew she wasn’t right. Matt would be looking for a way out of the area so he could disappear for good. He knew he was dead if Ronan got his hands on him, let alone Ilya.

  “I told Mom and Dad we’d be there…” Her voice still trembled and he couldn’t bear it.

  In the weeks he’d been with her, she hadn’t cried once, though she deserved hours of tears if that was what she wanted.

  She’d straightened her spine and argued where she felt it was needed, ignored what did
n’t have to be addressed, and tried to take one day at a time as they waited for the enemy to make their next move.

  She was the strongest woman he knew, and he’d be damned if he was going to be the one to make her cry. He wouldn’t let it happen.

  “Then we should leave,” he agreed quickly, staring down at her distressed expression though, thankfully, no further tears were falling.

  Please, God, don’t let her cry, not over this, he thought as she gathered her purse and laced sneakers over her white socks.

  She wore jeans and one of those little tank tops she liked. Soft, satiny skin shimmered like the tears had in her eyes.

  The thought of those tears had disgust crawling up his spine as he helped her into the truck he’d acquired for his stay before moving quickly to the driver’s side.

  She kept her head down, her fingers picking at the strap of her purse as he drove toward her family’s home. She hadn’t been joining them for Sunday dinners until today, and he had a feeling the only reason she was insisting on it was to avoid what she feared would be the pressure he’d exert for her to give him what he wanted.

  She did not have to worry about that. Those tears were his breaking point, and he’d never imagined he’d be so weak in the face of them.

  His hands still weren’t quite steady from glimpsing them. They’d shaken like a toddler’s when he’d seen that tear fall and heard the sob in her voice that she was trying so hard to hold back.

  “Would you like me to wait for you in the truck?” he asked as they neared the house.

  He hated letting her out of his sight, but he wasn’t part of the family or really a part of her life outside her protection.

  When she looked up at him, the gray of her eyes still showed a hint of tears.

  “You don’t want to go in with me?” Was that hurt in her voice?

  Another hurt he had caused.

  “Emma Jane,” he groaned, pulling to the side of the driveway and putting the vehicle in park before reaching out to cup her face as gently as possible. “I never want you out of my sight. I would wrap you in tissue wrap and tuck you in my pocket to keep you with me always if I could. Why would I not want to go into your parents’ home with you?”

  She swallowed, obviously still upset from earlier. He fought to find a way to fix it, to clear the tears and bring back her smiles.

  “I swear to you, Emma Jane, I will not kill Matt Lauren,” he swore, though it galled him, making that vow. “You don’t know the person I am, but my vow is my bond. I will not break it. I can understand how he can still be important to you.”

  And that was bullshit. He just hated the bastard

  He’d give his word though and mean it. A man’s word was all he had to call his own, and only he could make it of worth, or of no worth at all.

  “You think I don’t know the man you are or the dragon you can become, Ilya?” she asked him softly. “And Matt doesn’t mean anything to me one way or the other. It’s one impossibly stubborn, far too protective dragon I care about. And I don’t want you to kill because of me. I don’t want to be just another weight on your soul.”

  Had she lost her mind somehow? There was no better reason to kill than her. To protect the woman who held his heart and soul, he’d take his own life if needed.

  “Weight on my soul?” His fingers trailed over her brow, her jaw. “Emma Jane, you make my soul lighter. You could never be a weight.”

  He touched her lips with his own, a gentle kiss filled with all the emotion he couldn’t express with words, only with his touch.

  He couldn’t tell her she was his heart, his soul, and every dream he’d been unaware he’d been harboring within him. She was the light to his darkness, the one person in the world he couldn’t exist without. He could bear a separation, there would be hope then. If her life was lost though, he would quickly follow. A man didn’t survive if his heart withered away inside his chest.

  “We better go in,” she whispered when his head lifted.

  From the corner of his eye he could see her father standing on the porch of the farmhouse frowning at them, hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed.

  A father. Emma Jane had a father, a loving mother, and a brother. Her dragon could ensure she had a future to enjoy with them, even if that future didn’t include him.

  * * *

  He held her hand after helping her from the truck, Emma Jane realized. As they walked the rest of the way to the house, he released her, but only to place his hand at the small of her back.

  He wasn’t an easy man to understand or to read. And sometimes she had to fight to keep up with the schemes she swore were brewing in his head. Things as simple as fixing the AC when it began rattling several days before or keeping her out of her flower beds outside and in the house.

  His pale green eyes would narrow, and though his expression wouldn’t change, the tattoo would shift, the dragon’s head would tilt and appear conniving. And she didn’t dare tell him why she was laughing when that happened.

  “’Bout time you got here,” her father grumbled as they stepped to the porch. “That fool brother of yours is threatening to go hunting for Matt. I wouldn’t worry if him and Nik weren’t cleaning Nik’s rifles while talking about it.”

  Emma Jane laughed. “He’s just trying to impress Nik. That’s his new hero after he learned Nik had that sniper rifle. Ronan’s a puppy.”

  Ilya came to a hard, complete stop, as did her father, but she just breezed by them and stepped into the house as she called out to her mother.

  Ilya turned slowly to meet her father’s gaze as the older man shook his head pitifully. “We love her, but I swear when God was giving out street smarts that girl musta been playin’ with the butterflies.”

  Ilya laughed. He simply couldn’t help it. A deep, caught-by-surprise laugh at the image of God giving out street smarts to punk-dressed kids while sweet little Emma Jane chased butterflies.

  Suddenly, she was at the door staring at him and her father with narrowed eyes.

  “Stop laughing at me. I know you are.” She gave both of them a fierce, perturbed look as she wagged her finger at them, but the somberness of the moment passed.

  And he’d actually managed to laugh.

  “Come on, son.” David Preston slapped him on the shoulder, gripped it companionably, and pushed him toward the door. “Her momma made the best dinner you’ll ever eat. Besides, someone needs to tell her brother to chill his blood lust. EJ and her momma are too sweet for some things. Just way too sweet.”

  And there was a message in there, but it was one Ilya knew he couldn’t allow himself to hear. Some men never allowed their women to really know them, all the way to their souls. They expected those same women to trust them though.

  Trust began with trust, Emma Jane knew that. But he knew the day was coming when trust wouldn’t be enough. The past would catch up with him if he stayed and she’d learn the depths of the darkness in his soul.

  What would that do to the little girl who chased butterflies and consorted with a dragon?

  chapter thirteen

  The list of places Matt might actually go to wasn’t long, or at least the one Emma Jane gave him wasn’t. The one Ronan came up with was another story.

  The younger man had that list waiting the minute Emma Jane and her mother had begun cleaning dinner from the table with Nik’s wife Mikayla’s help. With a tilt of his head, Emma Jane’s father directed Ilya to the garage while Emma Jane, her mother, and Mikayla remained in the kitchen.

  Nik and Mikayla had left their daughter with Mikayla’s parents so she wouldn’t overhear anything she shouldn’t, since they were certain where the conversation would go and where little Nikita would insist on being. Right in her daddy’s tall shadow.

  And this was a conversation a child had no business hearing.

  Relating the promise Emma Jane had managed to get out of him, Ilya watched his brother roll his eyes in disgust as he turned to his father.

  “I told you, pa
y up,” Ronan demanded from both Nik and his father.

  Ilya lifted a brow as he caught Nik’s eye, seeing the ten-dollar bill he handed over to Ronan.

  “You could have held out just a few more days, so we could get his money.” Calvin Preston shook his head in despair. “Thought you were made of sterner stuff, boy.”

  Behind the feigned disappointment was a gleam of satisfaction in the older man’s expression.

  “She was going to cry,” he stated ominously. “Besides, men such as Matt Lauren rarely skate by untested for long.”

  And Emma Jane had no idea the shadowed force making their way to his location. Once they learned about Matt’s abuse and his attempts to hurt her after the divorce, they’d take care of it without a word from Ilya.

  She was his match, his mate. He carried her in his soul, and her protection was uppermost until Ilya’s grandfather could arrive. This little town was getting ready to get busy, as much as he hated it.

  Glancing back in Nik’s direction, he noticed the other man watching him thoughtfully while Calvin and Ronan argued over the best way to deal with Matt Lauren.

  “I’m not going to tolerate much more of this, Dad,” Ronan snapped, as his father warned him to patience. “Do you know he was hitting her?” he hissed into his father’s surprised expression.

  Calvin sat down wearily in one of the plastic chairs they’d arranged to talk.

  “She would have told us,” her father said, his voice hoarse. “She wouldn’t keep that from us.”

  “Yes, she would have,” Ilya stated, keeping his voice low as he glimpsed the retribution gleaming in Nik’s arctic gaze before he lowered it to study the label on his beer. “According to my investigation into Lauren, he admitted it to several of his so-called friends when he did so.”

  He owed the bastard for that, too.

  “I’ll let the family know,” Calvin stated, his expression hardening as he rubbed the back of his neck. “That little bastard.”

  “Keep it under wraps for now, Cal.” It was Nik who made the suggestion. “When he turns up dead, we don’t want the authorities looking at the family. And men like that tend to meet with bad accidents.” Nik shrugged as though he wasn’t plotting just that.