His Dark Embrace

by Amanda Ashley

  She was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on her shoes, when Kaiden entered the room. Clad in a tux and a pair of black boots, he looked good enough to model for GQ.

  He whistled softly when he saw her. “You’re beautiful, Sky Blue.”

  “So are you.” The man was born to wear a tux. The thought that he was hers, all hers, sent a quiver of anticipation racing through her.

  Taking her hands in his, Thorne drew her to her feet and into his arms. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice husky with desire. “Because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

  The wedding chapel was small but lovely. The pews were made of antique oak. The carpet was a deep shade of burgundy. Candles burned in ornate wall sconces and candle-holders. The minister was a tall, gray-haired man who smiled a welcome.

  Lisa had changed into a long rose pink gown. Sam looked handsome in a tux. And tennis shoes.

  The ceremony was short. The minister requested they hold hands while he spoke the words that joined Skylynn and Kaiden as husband and wife “as long as you both shall live.” He smiled fondly as he invited Kaiden to kiss the bride.

  Kaiden lifted Sky’s veil, then cupped her face in his palms. “I will love you all the days of your life,” he said quietly. “In sickness and in health. Forever.”

  “Forever,” she murmured.

  “Forever,” he repeated fervently. And there was no doubt in her mind that he meant it. And then he kissed her, his tongue teasing her lips as his arm slid around her waist to draw her body up against his.

  “Get a room,” Sam muttered under his breath.

  Lisa laughed softly.

  Skylynn drew back, her cheeks flushed.

  “Sounds like good advice to me.” Thorne slapped a hundred-dollar bill into the minister’s hand, then took Skylynn’s arm and escorted her out of the chapel without a backward glance.

  Sam and Lisa followed, arm-in-arm. “They seem to be in a hurry to get back to the hotel,” Sam remarked with a wry grin.

  “You can hardly blame them,” Lisa replied. “After all, they’re on their honeymoon.”

  “Well,” Sam drawled, “it seems we’ve been abandoned for the night, what would you like to do?”

  “Anything you want is fine with me.”

  “Hmm. We could go to one of the casinos and try our luck at the tables.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Lisa said. “I’ve never been to Vegas before.”

  The MGM Grand was booming. Sam held Lisa’s hand as they made their way through the crowded casino. “What’s your pleasure?” he asked. “Craps? Roulette? The slots?”

  Lisa shrugged. “I really don’t have a preference. This is all new to me.”

  Sam decided to shoot craps. It had always been his favorite game, probably because it moved so fast. He threw a twenty on the DON’T PASS line. A skinny blonde woman had the dice. She threw a three.

  Sam collected his winnings, but let his original twenty ride.

  “I have no idea what’s going on,” Lisa said.

  Sam explained, as best he could, what the rules were, then added, “The easiest bet is the field. If the shooter rolls a two, three, four, nine, ten, eleven, or twelve, you win. The payoff is even. If you bet a dollar, you win a dollar, except for the number two, which pays two-to-one. A twelve pays three-to-one. Your bet’s good for one roll of the dice.” He handed her a stack of chips. “Go for it.”

  Lisa placed a five-dollar chip on the field. The shooter rolled a twelve.

  “I won!” Lisa exclaimed.

  “Beginner’s luck!” Sam said. “Try again.”

  Lisa placed another field bet. And the shooter rolled another twelve.

  For the next half hour, the shooter was every field bettor’s best friend. And then she rolled a five.

  “Can we go try something else?” Lisa asked.

  “Sure, whatever you want.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You,” Sam replied candidly. “In my arms. In my bed.”

  Lisa stared at him a moment, then took him by the hand. “I can’t wait to try out that big round bed.”

  Chapter 41

  Girard Desmarais scowled as he watched Sam and the girl with him leave the casino hand-in-hand. Laughing and smiling at each other, they were apparently oblivious to everything and everyone else around them.

  Girard nodded. He knew if he waited long enough, he would get the two of them alone. Or as alone as anyone could be on the crowded streets of Las Vegas after dark. He smiled as Sam and the young woman turned down a quiet side street, pausing a moment to kiss in the shadows before moving on.

  Girard slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The right pocket held a fat wooden stake; the left a snub-nosed revolver loaded with silver bullets and fitted with a silencer.

  He would take out the young man and his girlfriend, then wait for an opportunity to exact his revenge on Kaiden Thorne.

  Thorne closed the door to the bedroom, and then drew his bride into his arms.

  “No regrets?”

  “Of course not.” Sky looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. “We haven’t even been married half an hour. I don’t know if you snore,” she said with a teasing grin, “or how you’ll be about taking out the trash, or ...”

  “You know I don’t snore,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “And I’ll be more than happy to take out the trash, as long as I can do it at night.”

  “Well, no regrets, then.”

  “You make a beautiful bride, Sky Blue.”

  “Thank you.” Standing on her tiptoes, she slid his jacket over his shoulders. After tossing it on the bench at the foot of the bed, she removed his tie and shirt. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt and she ran her hands over his back and chest. His skin was smooth, cool to the touch.

  He nuzzled the side of her neck. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Anything I want.”

  “I think I married a hussy.”

  “Could be. Do you mind?”

  He laughed softly. “What do you think?” Tilting her chin up, he kissed her. “You look so pretty in that dress, I hate to have you take it off, but ...”

  Before she knew how it happened, her veil and dress were on the bench and she was standing there in nothing but her new lace bra, panties, and heels. “How did you do that?” she asked, stepping out of her shoes.

  “Magic fingers, babe.”

  “Well, excuse me if I do it the old-fashioned way,” she muttered as she removed his belt and ever so slowly unzipped his trousers.

  Thorne obligingly heeled off his boots and stepped out of his slacks. “You’ve got some magic fingers of your own, Sky Blue.” And so saying, he removed the last of her clothing and his own, then drew her down on the bed and wrapped her in his arms.

  “I love you, Skylynn,” he murmured. “As long as I live, as long as you live, I will love no one but you.”

  Sam was laughing at something Lisa had said when she suddenly stumbled forward. He caught her before she hit the ground, his nostrils immediately filling with the scent of her blood. And overlaying that, the acrid stink of gunpowder.

  “Lisa? Lisa!”

  She moaned softly but before Sam could determine the extent of her wounds, a dark shape launched itself out of the shadows and barreled into Sam. He fell backward. His head hit the sidewalk, hard. He lay there, too stunned at first to identify the three muted pops. Too late, he realized they were gunshots.

  He sprang to his feet when their attacker turned toward him. Things happened very fast after that, but Sam seemed to see it all in slow motion.

  He stared at Lisa, sprawled on the ground, her eyes wide and empty of life, blood streaming from three small holes in her chest, and one in the side of her head.

  Girard Desmarais sprang toward him, his face contorted with hatred as he pulled a wooden stake from his jacket pocket and lunged forward.

  Sam darted sideways. The stake, meant for his heart, penetrated the right side of his c
hest. The pain drove the breath from his body and left him momentarily unable to move.

  Girard ripped the stake from Sam’s chest. He drew back his arm, intending to strike another blow when he suddenly vanished from sight.

  Seconds later, Thorne materialized beside Sam, who had dropped to the sidewalk beside Lisa. His blood dripped over her pale face like drops of scarlet rain.

  A single indrawn breath told Thorne the girl was dead even before he saw the bullet wounds in her head and chest.

  “Sam, we’ve got to go.”

  “He killed her,” Sam said dully. “For no reason.”

  Hearing sirens approaching, Thorne said, “We need to get out of here. Now.”

  “I can’t leave her here in the street like so much garbage.”

  “We won’t.” Thorne scooped Lisa off the ground. Holding her against his chest with one arm, he took hold of Sam’s wrist with his free hand and willed the three of them away from the city to an empty stretch of desert.

  “He killed her,” Sam murmured. “He wanted to kill me and Skylynn. Why?”

  “It’s a long story.” Thorne lowered the girl’s body to the ground. The dirt was hard and cold and rocky, but she was past caring.

  Thorne guided Sam a few yards away and eased him down on the ground. The wound left by the stake had closed, leaving an ugly red welt in its place. It would heal completely while he slept, but Sam needed blood.

  Biting into his own wrist, Thorne held it in front of Sam. “Drink.”

  “I’m gonna kill him.”

  “I’ll help you, but first you need to drink.”

  Sam stared at the blood. And then he lowered his head and took what he needed.

  “She’s dead?” Skylynn looked at Kaiden in disbelief. “What happened?”

  “Desmarais happened. He followed us here.”

  “How?” Skylynn sank down on the sofa, her arms wrapped around her middle.

  “It was easy,” Thorne said, lowering his voice. “He has a blood link with Sam.” Thorne shook his head. He should have foreseen something like this, should have known Desmarais wouldn’t just give up. He glanced at Sam, who was standing at the window, staring blankly into the darkness.

  “Where is Lisa now?” Skylynn asked.

  “I buried her out in the desert. I’ll take her home later, after Sam goes to sleep.”

  “I can hear you, you know.” Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of his ruined tux. “She never hurt anybody. What am I gonna tell her dad?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Thorne said.

  “No!” Sam whirled around to glare at Thorne. “It’s my fault she’s dead. I’ll ... I’ll do it.”

  “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me,” Thorne said flatly. “I underestimated Desmarais. I should have known he’d be watching, waiting, that he wouldn’t quit until one of us was dead.”

  “So, how do we kill him?” Sam asked.

  “We’ll set a trap,” Thorne said.

  Sam leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. “Is that right? What are we going to use for bait?”

  “What he wants the most,” Thorne replied.

  “No!” Sam declared vehemently. “No way.”

  “You got a better idea?”

  “It’s too dangerous,” Sam insisted. “I’m not letting him get near Skylynn again.” He clenched his hands at his sides. “There’s got to be another way.”

  “Do I have anything to say about this?” Skylynn asked, rising.

  “No!” Sam said emphatically.

  “Have you got any better ideas, Sky Blue?” Thorne asked. “If so, I’d love to hear them.”

  “Not really,” she admitted, “but we have to do something. We can’t go on living like this.”

  Thorne nodded. Drawing Sky into his arms, he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. This was all Cassandra’s fault, he thought bitterly. If she hadn’t turned Desmarais, Lisa would still be alive. And getting rid of Girard Desmarais would be a hell of a lot easier.

  Frowning, Thorne lifted his head. Maybe Cassandra was the answer.

  She met him on the casino floor of the Bellagio. Attired in a slinky red dress sprinkled with sequins and wearing a pair of three-inch silver heels, she rivaled the lights of the casino itself. Her hair flowed over her shoulders like a river of chocolate silk. Ageless and elegant, she looked like a queen among commoners.

  “Cassandra.”

  “Kaiden, I was surprised to hear from you. Is something wrong?”

  “You know damn well what’s wrong. Your fledgling is running amuck. He killed Lisa Rawlins and came damn close to destroying Skylynn’s brother.”

  “How is young McNamara taking to his new life?”

  “Like a duck to water,” Thorne retorted. “But I didn’t call you here to talk about Sam and you know it. You’ve got to do something about Desmarais.”

  Cassandra glided across the floor to one of the dollar slots and placed her hand on the side of the machine. A moment later, lights flashed, declaring her a winner. “He already knows if he destroys you, I’ll destroy him.”

  “He’s not after me. He’s after Skylynn.”

  “Ah.” She touched the machine again. And won again. “So, what would you have me do?”

  “You made him. Get rid of him.”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You’re not serious?”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  “I’m rather fond of him.”

  Thorne stared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing.

  She shrugged as she opened her handbag and scooped her winnings inside. “It’s true. I find him intriguing.”

  “Intriguing,” Thorne muttered.

  “As a matter of fact, we’re going hunting together later.”

  So much for counting on Cassandra for help. It looked like he was on his own.

  Feeling vaguely disgruntled with himself, Thorne left her standing there. He had never asked anyone else for help before, had only done so now because of his concern for Skylynn’s safety.

  So, it was up to him. Determined not to let Sky down, he made two stops before returning to the hotel.

  The first was to take Lisa’s body to Vista Verde before it was found and savaged by predators.

  The second was to visit an old friend who sold illegal firearms.

  Skylynn stared at the gun in Thorne’s hand. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

  “It’s loaded with silver bullets,” Thorne explained. “It won’t kill Desmarais, but if he shows up when you’re alone, it’ll put him out of commission long enough for you to take his head.”

  “Take his head?” she asked, horrified.

  “Or you can set him on fire. Whichever you decide, you have to do it quick.”

  Skylynn sat on the edge of the sofa, one hand pressed to her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “I’m sorry, love,” Thorne murmured. “This hasn’t been much of a honeymoon, has it?” Sitting beside her, he put his arm around her shoulders, quietly cursing himself for making her a part of his life. If he hadn’t been so selfish, he would have left town long before things went this far.

  “She won’t be alone again,” Sam said, his voice gruff. “I’ll be with her every night. If I have to, I’ll hire someone to watch out for her during the day.”

  “We’ll both be with her at night,” Thorne said, “but you’re right, hiring someone to stay with her during the day is a good idea.”

  “Why do I need someone in the daytime?” Sky asked. “He can’t come after me then.”

  “No, but he can send someone else.”

  Sky buried her face against Thorne’s shoulder. “I hate this.”

  “It’ll be over soon.” Thorne glanced at Sam. Damn! Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? The blood link. It had allowed Desmarais to find Sam.

  It would also allow Sam to find Desmarais.

  Chapter 42

  “You want me to find Desma
rais?” Sam stared at Thorne. “How the devil am I supposed to do that?”

  They had come home from Vegas earlier that night. As soon as they’d arrived in Vista Verde, Sam had changed his clothes and gone to see Lisa’s parents. Thorne had spent the early part of the evening moving some of his things into Skylynn’s bedroom. His original plan had been for her to move in with him, but at the moment, it seemed easier for everyone concerned if he stayed with Sky and her brother.

  It wasn’t until Sky went upstairs to get ready for bed that Thorne had a chance to talk to Sam, alone.

  “How’d Lisa’s folks take the bad news?” Thorne asked.

  “About how you’d expect.” Sam shook his head. “I thought her old man might take my head off, but he didn’t blame me. The only good thing to come out of all this is that two more people want Desmarais dead.”

  “Speaking of Desmarais,” Thorne said. “There’s a link between the two of you.”

  “What kind of link?”

  “A blood link. It’s how he followed us to Vegas. If we’re lucky, it’s how we’ll find him.” Since Sam hadn’t ingested Desmarais’ blood, it was a slim hope, at best, Thorne mused. But it was all they had. “Close your eyes and concentrate on Desmarais, on his whereabouts.”

  Sam shook his head. “I don’t think I can do that.”

  “You can and you will. We can’t keep waiting for Desmarais to strike us. We need to carry the fight to him, catch him with his guard down.”

  Sam nodded. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture Desmarais in his mind—an old man with gray hair and cold, calculating brown eyes, his body shrouded in a gray cloak—but all he could see, all he could think about, was Lisa lying dead on the street, blood dribbling from the wounds in her chest.

  Sam shook her image away and tried again. Desmarais, you bastard, where are you? But, again, images of Lisa flooded his memory. How was he supposed to concentrate on Desmarais when he was overwhelmed with guilt? If he hadn’t asked Lisa to go to Vegas with him, she would still be alive, smiling, and happy.