by Kylie Brant
There was a primitive part of her that wanted to punish him for even speaking her mother's name. But another, cooler part knew what she had to do to extricate herself. "Then you'll be impressed to know that a contact of mine has orders to distribute those documents if I don't return unharmed."
His grip grew tighter. "If there is a contact, you can be made to reveal the name. To make the call and say whatever I tell you."
He was too close. His proximity was eliciting old memories she was usually more successful at shoving aside. The last time he'd been this close, he'd nearly raped her. And she'd vowed she'd never cower before this man again. Never be held helpless and weak.
She'd never be his victim.
The hard jab she sent in his gut was rewarded by a single vicious slap. Juliette let her weight go limp, reaching for the weapon in her shoe. At that moment Oppenheimer let her go, dropped down beside her, his hands tearing at her shirt.
And then the villa abruptly went dark.
She toed her shoe off as she struggled with him, heard the knife go skidding across the floor. Drawing her knee up, she struck hard at him, rolling away after she made contact. Her hand made a blind sweep across the floor, fingers searching for the weapon. Before she could reach it he landed on her from behind, straddled her.
"I think you're in desperate need of some of the lessons your mother needed to learn." He shoved a hand up the front of her shirt, groped her breast. "Let's hope you're a better pupil."
Revulsion and remembered fear took over. Logic was impossible to summon. Juliette was a creature of instinctive emotion now, reacting to the threat that had haunted her dreams for far too long. She stretched, muscles straining, felt the plastic sheathe that encased the knife.
There was a tiny click. That was the first inkling she had that she wasn't alone in the room with Oppenheimer any longer. Even as she inched the weapon closer, she looked up and over her shoulder.
Sam stood there, an avenging angel in warrior guise. The relief that flooded her at the sight of him made her muscles go weak. He had a rifle pointed at the man on top of her, and there was a merciless edge to his voice when he spoke. "If you get off her, right now, I just might allow you to live."
"Easy." Oppenheimer's soothing tone immediately had tension reflooding her system. "I'm sure we can work this out."
She didn't trust his capitulation. Reaching farther, she slid the knife toward her, just as she felt the man's arm go beneath her throat, the other shoving her head around in a painful position.
"I'll break her neck before you get a round off. Do you want to take that chance?" His voice rose. "Drop the weapon. Slide it over here."
Fear sprinted up her spine as Sam slowly lowered the rifle. Neither of them stood a chance if Oppenheimer disarmed him. And while she'd been willing to take such a risk before she'd come in, everything inside her rebelled at the thought of Sam having to pay that kind of price.
She moved the knife closer. The sheathe was removed. And in one fierce movement she drove the blade deep into the arm that still gripped her throat. He cursed in pain. She pulled the blade out as Sam raised the rifle and clubbed him with the butt. The blow drove the man sideways and Juliette moved in a flash, following him over until her knee was on his chest, the tip of the blade beneath his chin.
"I've waited for this moment for ten years," she said, her voice shaking. There was a light of fear in the man's eyes. It filled her with exultant satisfaction. Had there been a similar light in her mother's eyes moments before the life had flickered out of them for good? Her hand trembled, pressed harder, breaking the skin. A drop of blood dripped down the blade. Then another.
"We can make a deal," Oppenheimer said. His face was sheened in sweat. With the smell of fear on him he didn't resemble a monster at all, but merely a pitiful excuse for a human being. "That twenty million? It's yours. Just leave me the account number. For God's sake…" His eyes bulged as the knife pressed deeper. "I can make things right. Give me a chance."
"Did you give my mother a chance?" She didn't recognize the harshness of her own voice. Didn't recognize the sly whisper inside that urged her to act, to drive the blade deeper. Who would miss the man? Who would blame her?
"Juliette." Sam's voice sounded as if from a distance. Slowly, jerkily, she looked up at him. Then heard the sound of the chopper's rotors, the shout of men. "Finish it, one way or another. Time's running out."
Finish it. Her gaze held his, unspoken understanding between them. Make a choice. Allow the man to live or die. And whatever her decision, make peace with it.
Her attention returned to Oppenheimer. She increased the pressure on the knife, watched the panic flood his face.
Then just as abruptly, she relinquished the pressure, and rose. "Let's go."
"Hold this."
Startled, she turned to Sam in time to take the rifle he handed her. Then he reached down and grabbed Oppenheimer's shirt, hauling the man upward. He slammed a fist into his face, once, then again.
"They're coming!" Steps could be heard running toward the house. Sam looked up. The stamp of brutal savagery on his features had her catching her breath. With one final blow he let the man drop to the floor, stood and grabbed her hand. "Where's the back door?"
She led him through the house. They burst out the back door even as the front slammed open. Sam scattered the guards in the area with a round of rifle fire. The helicopter was nowhere in sight, but she could hear it nearby. Sam was pulling her toward the shoreline, where a ship was tied to the dock.
Bullets kicked up the dirt beside them as they ran. "Can you swim?"
His question seemed almost surreal, given the circumstances. "When I have to."
He stopped, took aim, and fired at the boat. A moment later the gas tank exploded, the sound ripping through the night. A huge fireball arose from it. Then he turned, pushed her past the burning boat and into the water. "Tonight you have to."
"I just cannot believe it's over." Juliette's grandmother sat in the penthouse without her usual impeccable posture, looking every bit her eighty years. "And Oppenheimer…" She looked from Sam to Juliette. "He is in custody?"
"He's in jail while the Austrian and French police quibble over him," Sam answered. He stretched his legs out, crossed the ankles. A bone-deep weariness was beginning to make its way through his muscles. "There are enough charges in each country to assure that he spends the rest of his life in prison. Illegal arms sales are taken seriously. And the proof that he's been arming terrorists will seal his fate." He was suspected of far more than he'd ever have to account for. The agency was still trying to establish a link between him and the deaths of the Brunei royal family that had taken place last year. And according to the last conversation Miles had relayed from Headquarters, the body of Sterling, the case officer who'd betrayed both Sam and his contract agent to Oppenheimer, had just washed up on a Brazilian beach. They lacked the evidence to hang any of those deaths on the man, although there was no doubt of his guilt.
His gaze went to Juliette, where she stood with her hand resting comfortingly on her grandmother's shoulder. With the statements the man had made about Celeste, and the copy of the film that was attained from his vault, there still might be a way to hold him responsible for the woman's death. He was going to do his damnedest to try.
Pauline reached up, clutched Juliette's hand. "Did you … did he tell you what happened to your mother?"
She looked at Sam, an unspoken message in her eyes. "No, Grandmama. He never admitted to anything."
Silently, he commended her action. There were worse things than not knowing. Juliette had discovered that for herself. He couldn't blame her for wanting to spare her grandmother. He listened while she gave the woman a greatly abbreviated version of their adventure the previous night. She glossed over many details, making it seem as though their swim to the chopper had been more relaxing than harrowing. But her grandmother wasn't so gullible. With a shrewd look at Sam, she said, "I hope you made him pay for those
bruises on her face."
Sam gave a small nod, and she looked approving. But he knew the beating Oppenheimer had suffered at his hands was nothing compared to what he'd inflicted on Juliette, physically and emotionally. There wasn't a hell scorching enough to repay him for that.
"You must be relieved to be back home. If you'll excuse the two of us, we'll let you get unpacked." He ignored the frown Juliette tossed him, concentrating instead on Pauline's slow smile of comprehension.
"Of course. Why don't you take her out to the balcony? It's a lovely day."
Juliette preceded him to the French doors opening to the small terrace, pulse racing, not unhappy to play the rest of this scene out in private. Her response, however, was annoying. She was as jittery as a pickpocket in a roomful of police officers. Sam Tremaine was only a man, she reminded herself firmly, and no man had ever been allowed to shake her nerve. It was a matter of pride that her expression was schooled to an impassive demeanor when she faced him again. "Thank you for sparing my grandmother some of the details. They'd really serve no purpose, other than to upset her."
"I have a grandmother, remember?" he said mildly.
She relaxed enough to allow herself a small smile. "The one with the willow switches, yes."
He was watching her steadily, his green gaze seeing too much. "I wish you'd been spared some of those details."
Swallowing hard, she raised a shoulder. "It was my choice. One way or another, I had to have closure." In a flash she remembered her fear when it had looked as though Sam were going to pay for that choice. Remorse twisted through her, and more than a little guilt. "You called me single-minded once, and you were right. It's been so long since I considered anything other than revenge…" Her voice trailed off. One goal had guided her, directed her actions for ten years. And despite everything, she couldn't regret that. Not even now.
"Was it worth it?"
Her gaze flashed to his, but it wasn't judgment she found in his eyes, only acceptance. "I don't know." Her answer was as honest as she could manage.
"When it was over, I expected to feel … something." She stopped, afraid to say more. The emptiness that had been part of her for as long as she remembered was still there. And the pain somehow was fresher. But there was a deeper part of her, a fiercer part, that had been mollified, somehow. It'd be a long time before she could answer his question truthfully. All she knew was that she couldn't have chosen another way.
She cleared her throat. "I hadn't considered the danger to you, though, and I am sorry for that. I'm used to weighing my risks, but I had no right not to consider yours."
Shrugging off her concern, he said, "You won't have to weigh risks anymore, because I've arranged for your retirement."
"You…" Words failed her for a moment as she stared at him. It didn't take long, though, for annoyance to filter in. "You've arranged?"
One side of his mouth curled up in a way she might have found beguiling if she weren't so irritated. "I destroyed the file on you, as I promised. And I strong-armed Miles into leaving the name of the thief we worked with out of his report." His smile turned ruthless. "He was quite agreeable once I found out that he hadn't been completely forthcoming with Headquarters when he'd sought approval for the raid on the island."
"It sounds as if you've made it easier for me to return to work, not more difficult," she pointed out, purely for the sake of argument. "There's an impressive collection of netsukes going on auction at Sotheby's next month. I've always had an appreciation for the unusual."
"We share that," he murmured, the light in his eyes giving his words a more personal meaning. "But you won't be planning any more thefts. What would be the point? The driving force behind it has been removed and if you need money…" He shrugged. "There's always the Moonfire necklace. I can't see you continuing to take risks when there's your grandmother to consider."
Despite the blatant manipulation of his argument, she glanced into the penthouse. He was right, and he knew it. Jeopardizing her future, and the remaining time she had with her grandmother, was no longer worth the gamble. She could recognize the truth in the realization while still mourning it.
"Hard to flush that need for adventure from your veins, though, isn't it?" Sam tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned against the balcony. "Some of us need those thrills the way others need oxygen. I can't quite see you settling down to a nine-to-five job selling cosmetics."
It was impossible to keep the look of horror from her face, even while she realized his eyes were laughing at her. "Credit me with a bit more imagination than that!"
"There's always another possibility. One that would allow you to continue what you do best, while removing the threat of imprisonment."
She was instantly wary, but couldn't prevent the immediate spark of interest that his words elicited. "What's that?"
"You could marry me. I could arrange for you to become a contract agent, with me as your handler. Or if that doesn't appeal to you, the agency is always looking for skilled members for their tech teams."
His explanation almost overshadowed his first sentence, would have, if she hadn't stopped listening the moment she'd heard it. "Marry you?" She didn't have to feign the panic in her voice. Her heart was quivering like a thoroughbred at the starting gate. "You don't want to marry me!"
He reached out, pulled her resisting form into his arms. "Amazingly, I do," he murmured, brushing his lips across her hair. "I knew I was in trouble the first time I saw you at the consulate party. And when you so obligingly threw yourself at me on the balcony—" He caught her hand in his before she could pinch him for that remark. "—I knew my objectivity was going to take a beating."
His confession was fascinating. Enthralling. She was torn by a need to hear more, and an equally strong desire to flee by leaping to the next balcony. She had nothing to offer him in return. She'd spent too many years suppressing all but one emotion. She wasn't sure she could even identify any others, much less experience them.
He had to have seen the alarm on her face. It didn't seem to deter him. His hands on her arms turned caressing. "I'd already come to terms with the fact that you'd shot my famed objectivity all to hell. But after I cut the power on the villa and slipped inside, saw Oppenheimer on top of you…" His grip tightened for a moment at the memory. "There's nothing I wouldn't have done to get you out of there safely. I love you, Juliette. I know that scares the hell out of you, but there it is."
She felt unbearably greedy, intolerably selfish. His words seeped into her soul and filled a portion of the void that had been there for so long. But she knew if wasn't fair to accept something that couldn't be returned.
Shaking her head, she said, "I can't … I don't feel the same way."
"I recognize it, even if you don't," he said, watching her intently. "I knew the moment I saw your face, when you thought I was going to surrender my weapon."
Her body shuddered with remembered terror at the memory. "I thought he'd kill you."
He skimmed his lips along her jawline. "And that would have bothered you?"
"Of course, you fool, I lo—" She stopped, shocked at the admission that had almost tumbled out of her mouth. Without conscious thought. Without her permission.
"Exactly." Satisfaction threaded the word as he worried her lobe with his teeth. "Now why don't you complete that sentence, leaving off the endearment."
Caution had filtered her earlier impulsivity. "I was concerned for you, yes. I…"
Her explanation was stemmed by the finger he placed against her lips. And the light in his eyes demanded honesty. "No rationalizations. Just listen to your heart."
Her heart. It hadn't been the most reliable organ of late. Surely that was why it was galloping so fiercely, making every pulse in her body throb like a wound.
She opened her mouth, closed it again. It was like the first time walking a tightrope without a net. The fear of falling, failing, was enough to choke her. Equally strong was the fear that something precious was on the verge
of slipping from her grasp. "I think … that is … I may love you."
When he lifted his head, his lips were curved with genuine humor, deepening the sexy dent in his chin. "You can do better than that."
She felt like she was teetering on the edge of a towering precipice, with no guarantee of a soft landing.
"I love you." He crushed her to him, and her arms went around his neck. She was giddy with the realization, with the freedom the words gave her, so she said them again. "I love you."
"There." There was a hint of purely masculine satisfaction in his voice. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
Juliette smiled up at him. "I have a feeling it'll get easier."
"And you won't miss the jobs? The excitement of holding something priceless in your hands?"
"No." It was a simple answer to give, a simple answer to mean. As she returned his kiss she was already certain that the most priceless thing she'd ever stolen was Sam's heart.
* * *
Epilogue
« ^
The wedding ceremony had gone beautifully, at least it had seemed so to Juliette. Sam's sister Ana had been a serene bride, contrasting with the broad-shouldered man who'd waited for her at the altar. Jones had appeared as ill at ease as a groom could be, until the instant he'd seen his fiancée. Then his face had transposed to an expression so fierce, so intensely personal, no one could mistake his devotion for the diminutive woman approaching him on her oldest brother's arm.
"You made a very handsome best man," she informed Sam afterward, as they strolled through the crowd of guests on the sprawling grounds of the Tremaine Louisiana home.
"Is that why you were undressing me with your eyes during the entire mass?" he inquired, nodding at an acquaintance.
"The male ego is a strange and wondrous thing."
It took real effort to keep the smile from her lips. "More strange than wondrous, actually."
