Crack!
The sharp eruption burst through the fog in her brain. The constraint on her throat gave way, and she dropped to the floor. Her mind buzzed. A voice buzzed in and out of her consciousness but she couldn’t grab onto it. She sank down, down, down, until the greedy arms of darkness embraced her.
CHAPTER 4
Brock wrestled the dead body off Dani’s back and dumped it on the floor. He didn’t have to check the guy’s pulse. The entry and exit wound through his skull were evidence enough.
Dani’s hair fanned around her shoulders and spilled on the tile under her cheek. He gathered a handful of the long, silky strands and moved them to the other side of her neck.
He’d turned on the light seconds before firing. Seeing Dani’s purpling face and wet, bulging eyes, he’d pulled the trigger before the bastard could flinch. Terror, raw and sharp, had attacked his nervous system. He felt no remorse for committing murder in his cousin’s pristine home.
Pressing his fingers to Dani’s red-rimmed throat, he felt for a pulse. A slow, steady rhythm beat against his fingertips. Thank god. He moved his thumb over the abraded skin and ground his teeth.
He rolled her to her back, taking care to support her neck. She lay limp on the floor, her mouth slack. He breathed a curse and tried not to think about how long it had been since he’d done CPR training. Tilting her chin back, he parted her lips and blew a breath into her lungs. Her diaphragm rose. He sat up and pumped the heels of his hands against her chest. He repeated the motions three times. Sweat dampened his brow and dread ate through his stomach.
No, no, no. He hadn’t come all this way and been so damn close to saving her just to lose her like this. Over his dead body.
“C’mon, baby. Come back to me.” His chest ached, but he sealed his lips over her much colder ones and breathed into her mouth again before transferring his hands into position over her chest. A sharp intake of breath jerked his attention to her face. Her eyes fluttered open and the tightening hands of doom released his heart. He dropped his face to her neck and inhaled her scent. She tangled her fingers in his hair and took small gasps of air.
Finally, he pulled back enough to meet her wild, terrified eyes. Flecks of indigo broke up their ocean-tinted hues. He cradled her neck in his hands and watched as the crinkles of panic in her forehead disappeared. Her death grip on his neck loosened, but she still clung to him.
“B-Brock? What are you doing here?” The raspiness of her voice reminded him of the trauma to her throat. He eased her into a sitting position and instantly regretted it. Her stare widened on the dead man at her feet, and she shrieked and coiled away. Brock caught her around the waist before she flopped over. He moved between her and the body, blocking her line of vision.
“Hey, just focus on me, all right?”
She wet her lips. Tiny cracks broke the surface of the plump bottom flesh that he’d tasted only seconds ago. Too bad he’d been too terrorized to pay attention to the sweetness of her mouth—a sweetness he’d craved these past three years.
“Think you can stand?”
She nodded. He gripped her elbows and pulled her to her feet. She slumped against his side and he fit his arm around her shoulders. The memory of Candace snuggled in the same position flashed through his mind. Candace’s long frame just hadn’t squished so perfectly into his form. Dani’s fit like a puzzle piece.
She gagged, and he spun her away from the blood and brain splatter on the ornate white sofa. “W-Who is that?”
“Don’t know. I’ll check him out in a minute. Are you hurt?”
He ushered her down the hall to the master bedroom and sat her on the bed. What a stupid fucking question. She’d been seconds away from being strangled to death for god’s sake. He dropped to his knees in front of her and rested his palms on either side of her hips. He shouldn’t be touching her. But so help him god, he couldn’t stop himself—not unless she showed some sign of discomfort from his proximity. She curled her fingers around his wrist, and her other hand fluttered to the bruising skin at her throat.
“I think so. I lost consciousness . . .” Her unfocused gaze shifted to him. “Then I woke up. And you were there.”
“Yeah.” The word came out as slow as pudding through a straw.
“Why?”
He cleared his throat and considered what to say. Dani despised being seen as needy or weak, so the last thing he wanted to do was make her raise that damn force field around herself and shut him out again.
He pursed his lips. “Me stay away from a job like this? I knew it had to be good if you were being pursued.”
One delicate lid lowered. “Mmm. Well, you’re not getting a cut.”
He laughed and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Typical. Seriously,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Are you okay?”
She rolled her lips in. “I am now.” The meaning of those words made his heart throb.
He patted her knee. “Stay here. I’m going to check out our friend.” He stood and her wide, pale eyes watched him. Then she nodded. He turned and disappeared into the hall. He returned to the kitchen, checked the peephole in the front door, and secured the lock. One man. Why would they send only one man?
And who were they? He didn’t know a damn thing about what she was involved in, but Dani better start talking soon.
He knelt beside the lifeless figure on the ground. A black tailored pinstriped suit and a crisp white shirt adorned the body, which was built and stocky. Gray strands dotted the sandy blond beard that matched the combed-back hair on his head. Brock fished around in the jacket pocket and pulled out the guy’s wallet.
An ID card filled a clear plastic screen. Special Agent Rudolph James. International Police.
What the actual fuck?
Brock’s hand turned to stone around the wallet. “Sonofafuckingbitch,” he whispered. He scrubbed his hand over his face. If the international police were after Dani, shit had just gotten really fucking real. He got to his feet, found a dishtowel in the kitchen, and wiped his fingerprints off the ID and wallet. Like it would do any damn good. It appeased his nerves momentarily, though. Pinching the towel around the objects, he laid them beside their owner and took out his phone. He snapped pictures of the man, the ID, and the scene of the attack, including the half-inch-thick rope still wrapped around the attacker’s fingers. If anyone tried to twist this story, he’d have proof.
“Who is it?”
His muscles bunched, and he exhaled steadily to slow his heart rate. No need to alert her to the fact that she’d scared the fucking shit out of him. Steel hardened her words. Her arms were locked around her abdomen and a blanket lay over her shoulders. The dark circles under her eyes stood out against her milky skin. The braided ring around her throat was already a deep purple. He opened and closed his fist at his side.
“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
* * *
Dani shook her head and took half a step in Brock’s direction. The scent of raw meat floated to her nose. She pressed her knuckles to her lips and turned her face toward the wall. Brock’s stride ate up the distance between them and he guided her back to the bedroom. She hated being babied, especially by him, but had he not moved her away from the rancid stench, she would have puked.
“Stay in here until it’s time to go.” The words lashed out from his lips and her hackles rose. He didn’t get snippy with her too often. Even when she deserved it.
“You didn’t answer my question.” She flicked her gaze over the face that had haunted her dreams—and fantasies—for years. Copper flecked his hazel eyes, which changed color with his mood. Had he grown taller? No, that was unlikely. But it seemed his chest was higher over her head than she’d remembered. Muscle rippled under his long-sleeved shirt, showing off the fact that he hadn’t taken a hiatus from the gym since she gave him the boot. One thing was certain: he hadn’t lain around pining over her.
His gaze traveled over her face. She watched as he rubbed his thumb and fo
refinger together. The familiar action indicated his thoughts were anywhere but on the present. His locked jaw loosened. Her fingers ached to toy with the short strands of scruff at his jawline, and her mouth tingled with the memory of the last time he’d kissed her—after she returned home from the hospital three months ago. He’d thought everything was fine and dandy between them because he’d coughed up the cash for her ransom.
“Interpol. The guy’s an agent.” His words bounced inside her brain and then slowly registered.
“Inter . . .” She shook her head and frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Interpol. You know—international police who investigate terrorists and international criminals of all kinds.”
She moved away from the bed and pressed two fingertips into her temple. Waving a hand at him as if swatting a fly, she pivoted to face him again. “I know what Interpol is. I just don’t understand.”
“Why don’t you start by telling me what the hell you stole?” His tone was laced with contempt.
She dropped her hand and glared. “Oh, that’s cute. Didn’t anyone ever tell you people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones?”
His mouth twitched, but he kept the smirk in check. God, he was sexy when he was annoyed. “Let’s not get into that battle. You need to tell me, Dani. I can’t help if I don’t know what we’re up against.” He folded his arms across his chest. Part of her wanted to remind him that she hadn’t asked him to come here. She didn’t want to work alongside him again. Not after he’d screwed her over three years ago. But he was here. If he hadn’t come, she’d be dead. So there was that.
She toyed with the cashmere tassel on the bed’s gray throw blanket and sat on the settee. It took all her energy to remain somewhat poised. But she’d do it if it killed her. “A friend of mine, Sven, contacted me a month after the . . .” She cleared her throat. “Incident.”
Brock shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded curtly.
“He said he had a simple job with a big payout.”
Brock guffawed, and she pierced him with her stare.
“Sorry, but that’s usually a red flag, don’t you think?”
“Why don’t you let me finish?” she hissed.
He shrugged and she dropped the blanket and made a fist on her knee. “Ubrigg Lichti is a world-renowned biochemist. Sven originally told me it was a high-profile formula. He said he didn’t know what it was for, but a rival company wanted it. All I had to do was copy the files from Ubrigg’s computer. Sven supplied me with a password, and voilà.”
“Have you looked at the files?”
She shook her head. “I was given strict instructions not to.”
He scraped the tip of his thumb along the bottom of his chin. “Don’t you think it’s strange that Sven already had Ubrigg’s password?”
She tilted her head and fought the urge to roll her eyes. “You’ve never cracked a password for a job?”
“Yeah, but that’s different. We do months of surveillance, plant moles, install cameras.”
“Pretty sure Sven went the same route. Our methods are nothing original.”
“Okay, so then why was Interpol here?”
She grimaced and chewed the edge of her cheek between her teeth. “I think the bigger question is why an Interpol agent tried to kill me as if he were an assassin.”
A sound rumbled from Brock’s mouth—half groan, half growl. “I don’t want to explore those possibilities at the moment, but let’s just agree for now that this picture isn’t right.”
There was no way to sugarcoat it. All she could do was pray Sven was highly misled. “One thing,” she said, holding out her finger. Brock’s eyebrows squeezed together, and she forced herself to continue. “Sven’s on his way to Geneva. He’s going to contact me in the morning with a meeting place so I can pass off the flash drive. He said we’re in danger. It’s not like him to get uneasy.”
“And?”
She blew out a breath. “Before he hung up, he said ‘bioterrorism.’” She swallowed and watched Brock’s face change. The rigid muscles under the shadow of his jaw sagged and his eyes rounded. His tanned skin turned ashy and a vein pumped at his temple.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” He stormed to one end of the room and back.
A ball of shame swelled in her belly. Calling him had been impulsive. She’d needed support, an anchor, a familiar voice to steady her in the tumultuous storm. And deep down, buried under her pride, she’d wanted him to come. Whether he’d picked up on her hidden plea or not, he was here—because she’d called him.
How could she not? Brock had been a steady presence in her life since she was twelve years old. He’d caught her stealing his bike and even then, he hadn’t gotten angry at her. Instead, he’d warned her she’d get into trouble one day if she wasn’t careful. He’d taken her back to her aunt and uncle’s house and told Serena and Milo what she’d done—only to find no scorn in their reactions. His curiosity piqued, he’d quickly learned about the darkness of their youth. The memories of her lack of childhood made her shudder.
Moving in with Uncle Sebastian and Aunt Mae after their mom died had been hell for Serena and her. Sebastian had used them, teaching them to lie and steal when they should have been learning to ride bikes or playing with dolls. And Mae had always been too sweet to stand up to her husband. Dani’s childhood had been about survival and work—and not the work most parents and guardians touted. Oh, no. They’d learned to pickpocket, hotwire cars, steal. No one suspected two innocent young girls could be thieves—and damn good ones.
Then she’d turned seventeen and Brock’s gaze started to linger longer on her face. His fingers would brush hers unnecessarily, sending electrical bolts to her heart. A year of torturous touches and half-hooked smiles from him had her head over heels. Finally, she’d made the move that had catapulted their relationship out of the friend zone and kissed him. Nothing had been the same after that. In the heat of passion, they’d had sex at their favorite picnic spot. No matter how much she resented him now, her traitorous heart still yearned for those days. For the love they’d unabashedly showered on each other. Seven years of bliss exploded into smithereens when he betrayed her three years ago.
No, he shouldn’t be here.
He was in deep, tied to this mess in a way he couldn’t easily back out of. Not now that there was a dead Interpol agent on the floor of his cousin’s house. But she had to give him a way out. It wasn’t fair to assume he’d stay, or to ask him to help dig her ass out of a really fucked-up situation.
“You should leave, Brock. If you go now, no one will know you were here.”
His gaze snapped to hers. His mouth split in a sardonic grin, but no amusement lingered in his usually playful eyes. “We both know I can’t do that.” His words were heavy, pained. For a flicker of an instant she wanted to beg him to tell her what that meant. Because he’d just murdered someone? Because he thought she couldn’t survive without him? Or because he couldn’t leave her?
She stood and floated to him. She brought her palm to rest on his elbow, circling the thick muscle that had carried her more than once in her life. Heat emanated from his skin, calling hers like a beacon. Having those arms around her would dissolve all her fear . . . but inflict so much pain. She smoothed her thumb over his forearm. As much as she hated him for what he’d done to her—to them—there was still good in him.
“You can, though. I never should have gotten you involved. I had no idea—”
“Forget it, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Do you honestly think that’s the only guy who’ll be after you? We need to get this to the local authorities.” His gaze swept the room and landed back on her face. “And we need to get out of here.”
She rubbed her palm against her forehead. She wasn’t going to waste any more time trying to convince him to save himself. Doing this alone would suck. And she’d be lucky to stay alive long enough to meet Sven.
“We can’t go to the cops.”
“Dani, this is t
oo dangerous to carry out.”
“You don’t understand.” She shook her head. “One of the men who broke into my apartment was a cop with the local authorities. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, didn’t have a radio, and he snuck into my apartment, shot up my doors, and chased me down.”
He lowered his head and pressed the tips of his fingers into his eyes. “Christ almighty. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”
She chose to ignore his comment. “Maybe these guys don’t work for Ubrigg—maybe they work for the rival company and they want the device before Ubrigg gets to it. And once I hand off the device, they won’t be after me anymore.”
He snorted. “I don’t think that’s the only motivation.”
“What do you mean? He wanted the data.”
“They don’t just want the formula. If Interpol is involved, they want the terrorists—you, Dani.”
His words crashed into her with the force of a freight train. She couldn’t go to prison. She’d never see Serena again, never get to meet her niece or nephew. Oh god, she was an international felon. Her body wavered and her lungs ached as if the rope still circled her throat.
Brock caught her waist and pulled her to his chest. She dropped her face into his warm, citrus-scented shirt and breathed. His hands moved over her back as if memorizing each muscle and vertebrae. Warmth crawled over her skin, easing away her aches and pains. God it felt good to be in his arms. To feel his strength and stability. His hand grazed her lower back and her loins clenched. It had been a long time since she was intimate with a man, since she screamed and came on the mind-numbing ride of ecstasy. She needed it right now. Needed the pleasure he could so easily inflict on her begging body. His cheek rested on top of her head and he muttered soothing promises. Squeezing his shirt in her fists, she concentrated on the cadence of his heart against her ear and forced away all rages of desire.
“It’s all right. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” His voice was gruff and synched with the memories of their lovemaking. He wanted her too, and if he spoke any sweeter, she’d take her panties off herself and straddle him. He wouldn’t protest—that was as certain as his next breath. She broke her cheek away from his sternum, hating the cool air that replaced his warmth.
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