Secret Obsession

by Robin Perini

  With a sad smile, she covered his hand with hers. He couldn’t look away from her green eyes. So much hurt, so much pain, and yet a determination that wouldn’t quit. He turned his hand and squeezed hers, offering comfort.

  She gnawed on her lip, her nerves showing through. He couldn’t look away. The desire that had been flickering through him since he’d seen her again ignited into a flame. He was so close to her that if he leaned over just a bit, their lips would touch.

  If he ever kissed her, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop.

  “Noah,” she said softly, her voice questioning, her eyes wide with something he didn’t want to identify.

  His hand drifted down her arm, and she shivered under his touch. She leaned forward. The glittering diamond from Jack’s engagement ring against her breastbone caught the light.

  Noah took a calming breath and scooted back. “Rest,” he said, rising. With a last long, slow look he left the room.

  Once he closed the door of her small bedroom, away from the lavender scent that lingered, he sighed, willing his racing heart to calm.

  “She okay?” Rafe walked over and nodded at the room.

  Noah studied the man who’d saved his life on more missions than he could count, the man who had sacrificed more than anyone could possibly know. The man who knew him better than anyone. Even his family.

  They may know he’d joined the Marine Corps., but they had no idea of the missions he’d gone on...the ones deep into enemy territory.

  At first the secrets had been part of the job. Then it had morphed into protecting them from worrying, especially after his father’s accident. Now it had become a way of life—keeping that barrier up so no one could see inside him.

  Who would want to?

  “She’s pretending,” he admitted finally.

  “Don’t we all?”

  The corners of Noah’s lips lifted. “Oh, yeah. You ever get tired of it?”

  Rafe closed his eyes, regret clear on his expression. Rafe let very few see beneath his mask. He and Noah were kindred spirits that way.

  “I paid the price. You just go on. It’s all you can do.”

  Noah glanced at the room where he’d left Lyssa. His arms itched to hold her, to do way more than that, but giving in to wants and needs almost never turned out well. “She’s thinking about running again. To protect us.”

  “You gotta love that about her.”

  Noah narrowed his gaze. “You like her?”

  “What’s not to like?” Rafe said. “She’s determined, gorgeous and knows how to use a gun. Zane’s got a crush on her. I’ve half fallen for her, too. My kind of girl.”

  Noah glared at him. Rafe raised his hands. “And taken. I got that.”

  “She’s in love with a dead man,” Noah said quietly. “She wears his ring around her neck.”

  “A dead man can’t hold her in his arms. You have a distinct advantage, my friend.”

  “Not possible.” Noah crossed the room and opened one of the files, deliberately changing the subject. “Archimedes has the upper hand. He’s got eyes and ears at Justice.”

  “You know what we have to do,” Rafe said, fiddling with his patch.

  “Yeah.” Noah’s jaw throbbed. “Make her vulnerable. We’re doing exactly what she wanted in the first place and more. It ticks me off.”

  “Want Zane to start dropping bread crumbs?”

  Noah closed his eyes. “I want to encase her in bubble wrap and put her in the middle of Antarctica.”

  “Have you figured out what she’s hiding yet?” Rafe asked.

  “No. But whatever it is, Reid knew. And they’ve both taken a lot of risks to hide it.” Noah studied the closed door. “Let’s hope Archimedes never finds out, because if it’s important to Lyssa, he’ll go after it.”

  * * *

  FIRE CRACKLED IN the fireplace, its glow eerie in the completely dark hotel room. The flicker sent shadowy tongues up the wall.

  Archimedes—God, he loved the name the press had given him—watched the images play through the large television screen he’d connected through his laptop. He’d replayed it seventy-three times so far.

  Alessandra. And that man.

  Noah Bradford.

  He zoomed in to their clutched hands. He’d memorized every second. The tightening of her fingers on Bradford, her leaning into him.

  The man’s eyes following her every movement.

  But, more importantly, Alessandra’s blatant desire. She wanted him, too.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  The stemmed glass shattered in his hand, red wine exploding and splattering onto the floor.

  He rose from his chair, ignoring a mess for the first time that he could remember, but Alessandra needed his attention.

  She couldn’t be this weak.

  He tugged out his tablet and tapped a few keys.

  A red dot blinked.

  Still in Texas.

  Bradford’s plane hadn’t taken off to California. He was still with her.

  Archimedes knew the next step. He would have to pay them a visit—make sure Alessandra focused on her destiny, on her journey to become worthy of their life together.

  She was his destiny.

  He was going to prove it to her.

  * * *

  NOAH HADN’T SLEPT all night. He twirled the small screwdriver in his fingers and scowled at the tiny pieces of Archimedes’s camera lying on the table.

  Everything about the gadget was generic; nothing could be traced.

  “Please, no. Please don’t!”

  Lyssa’s screams echoed through the house.

  Noah sprung to his feet, palmed his Glock and ran into the hallway. He slammed open Lyssa’s door and rushed into her room.

  Her body twisted under a single sheet, her hands in fists, her face damp with perspiration.

  He felt Zane and Rafe’s presence behind him. One slight glance showed their guns were drawn and ready.

  “Nightmare,” Noah whispered hurrying to her bed. “Close the door.”

  They nodded, sympathy in their eyes, and the lock clicked, shutting him in with Lyssa.

  He sat on the bed and gathered her into his arms.

  Tears streamed down her face. With a gentle touch, he stroked her cheek. “Lyssa, it’s just a dream.”

  Her mouth twisted in fury. “I’ll kill you. I won’t let you hurt us!”

  Her head shook back and forth against his chest. She punched at Noah, but he held her fast. He bent closer, his voice soft and low. “Shh, honey. It’s not real.”

  The trouble was, her nightmares could very well become real.

  She whimpered and slowly settled in his arms. Her eyes blinked; she looked up at him. Swiping at her tears, she stared around the room. “What, where—?”

  “You called out in your sleep,” he said, pushing her hair back from her face.

  She grew pale. “What did I say?”

  The vulnerability in her eyes twisted his heart. “You wanted Archimedes dead.”

  “That’s true.” She scooted away from Noah, running her hands through her tousled hair. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” he said softly. “I was tinkering a bit.” He forced himself not to follow his instincts, not to cuddle her close and use his lips and body to make her forget.

  He shouldn’t be feeling this way. She was too vulnerable; she’d wrapped her arms around herself, that protective posture one huge defense. But he couldn’t stop the need or the flames that had kindled with every moment near her. He’d dreamed about her for the past few years; he’d compared every woman he’d dated to the woman sitting just a few feet from him. And now they were alone in a bedroom in the dark.

 
She clutched the sheet into her fists. “I dream of him. Every night. Of changing the past. Of killing him and stopping all of this.” She met his gaze. “What kind of person does that make me, to want another person dead? To want to kill him so badly that I can see it, feel it, do it in my dreams?”

  He pried her fingers open, her palms speckled with red nail marks. He stroked the damaged flesh. “Archimedes hurt you. Your mind wants to fix it.”

  She didn’t scoot away, just gazed up at Noah. “Two years ago, I didn’t even own a gun. Now I can shoot and not flinch. Two years ago, my biggest problem was choosing a wedding dress and hoping that when the Russian president made a statement, that my translation wouldn’t cause an international incident. Now I look over my shoulder everywhere I go. I can’t trust anyone. I can’t tell anyone the truth about my life or my past.

  “I can’t live this way anymore.”

  Noah slid to her side and pulled her head to his shoulder, stroking her back. “It will be over soon.”

  “Even when it’s finally over, I’ll never be the same. Have I lost my soul?” she whispered. “Am I just an empty shell?”

  How many times had Noah asked himself that question? While Lyssa dreamed of taking the law into her own hands, he’d done it. He’d been judge, jury and executioner. Sometimes there was no choice.

  He tilted her chin up and sank into the distraught green sea of her eyes. “You know what I see? A woman who wants to survive, who cares about the people around her. Who wants to stop a man who cares nothing about anyone else.” His hand drifted under her jawline to toy with a curl of her hair. “I see a woman who cares more for others than herself.”

  A reminiscent smile tugged at her lips. “That’s something Jack would have said.”

  The words shredded Noah’s heart. Jack. It was Jack she cared about. She still loved Noah’s best friend.

  And that fact hurt like hell. God, what he wouldn’t give for someone to love him this much.

  What he wouldn’t give for Lyssa to... He cleared his throat. “I’d better let you get some sleep.”

  “Don’t leave. I can’t take any more nightmares.” She burrowed closer into him. “So tired.”

  Inside he groaned, but he settled on top of the covers, dragging his finger down her arm. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, Lyssa. I promise you that.”

  He pulled her covers over her and her tired eyes blinked up at him.

  “Sleep,” he said, stroking the soft strands of her hair. “We have some planning to do tomorrow.”

  Her eyelids lifted. “As much as part of me thinks you should leave, I’m glad you’re here, Noah.”

  She closed her eyes.

  Noah didn’t move. He didn’t dare. Carefully, he set his gun on the nightstand.

  Lyssa, here in his arms. Not quite how he’d imagined it.

  A small sigh escaped her and she shifted even closer, showing him a trust she guarded so carefully.

  If only she would trust him so much during the light of day.

  * * *

  SUNLIGHT PIERCED THROUGH the shutters. Lyssa groaned against the bright assault and turned over.

  A large body stopped her.

  Noah.

  Memories of last night roared back. She flushed and peeked over at him. He lay sprawled on top of the covers, the top of his jeans unbuttoned, exhaustion painting his features.

  Carefully, she rolled to the other side of the bed and rose. She hadn’t taken two steps when a voice stopped her.

  “Don’t bother sneaking out,” he muttered without opening his eyes. “You tiptoe with the subtlety of a herd of elephants.”

  So much for saving face. “I need coffee.”

  “Make mine black,” he said, burying his head in the pillow.

  Lyssa slipped into the hallway. Zane sat at the computer, his hair sticking straight up. “You been up all night?”

  He removed his earphones. “Mostly. Narrowed the search down to one thousand, three hundred twenty-three possible suspects on flights yesterday.”

  Rafe sat on the sofa, his 1911 by his side. The twenty-four-hour news channel flickered in the early morning, its sound muted.

  “Did that snowstorm hit last night?” Lyssa asked. She walked to the front door heading to the enclosed screen porch.

  “Don’t!” Rafe shouted. “Let me go first.”

  She’d already turned the knob.

  The door eased toward her without the slightest tug, a heavy weight slowly coming at her.

  She jumped back.

  A body tumbled into the foyer, then rolled onto its back.

  Noah leaped in front of Rafe tackling her to the ground. Lyssa looked from underneath Noah’s arm at the distorted face.

  “Oh, God. I know him!”

  Chapter Seven

  Noah covered Lyssa’s body with his, curving his body to protect her. As if reading his mind, Rafe jumped over them, weapon in hand, and slammed the front door behind him. Zane raced to the back door.

  Noah rolled Lyssa away from the body, their legs tangled. “Get your gun,” he shouted. “Barricade yourself in.”

  She didn’t hesitate. She sprinted to the bedroom. Hoping she’d stay put but not counting on it, Noah rushed into the garage. He slid beneath the SUV. No explosives. Using his fingertips, he checked along the garage door. No tampering. Finally he studied the garage-door opener. A guy like Archimedes liked gadgets. No sign he’d been inside.

  The realization didn’t relax Noah one bit. He strode into the house. Lyssa had planted herself not two feet from the man’s body, her shotgun pointed at the door.

  “Clear!” Zane’s voice filtered from the back.

  She spun around, her eyes narrow with deadly intent. She stilled when she noticed him standing there.

  Her body stood poised, ready to fire.

  “Clear!” Noah shouted.

  She gripped the weapon tighter.

  Seconds later, Rafe gave a final yell. “Clear!”

  Everyone had checked in. She allowed the barrel to lower a bit.

  “Got something!” Rafe’s voice sounded from outside.

  “Come on, honey,” Noah said, holding out his hand. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  She placed her hand in his.

  “Keep ready,” he called. “We’re coming out.”

  Anchoring Lyssa to his side, he ran out front, meeting Zane, as the computer expert rounded the side corner.

  Zane squatted down and picked up the small electronic device. “A jammer. Nice work.”

  Noah scowled at him. Zane shrugged. “He may be a psychopath, but he’s damn good at what he does. He disabled the motion detectors on the front porch and blocked the signal of the video cameras I set up.” Zane frowned. “I thought that design was foolproof.”

  “It should have been,” Noah said, ticking through the possible vulnerabilities in his company’s number-one-selling camera. “Bring it,” he said as he made his way to the screened porch. He studied the slit on the screen door. Smears of blood dotted the metal mesh. “Arrogant SOB just pranced in.”

  Lyssa scanned the surroundings. Everything inside Noah wanted her back in the house, but he couldn’t risk it. God knew where Archimedes was. Noah ran his hand across the motion detectors. He met the worried looks of both Rafe and Zane. They understood.

  “He could have waltzed in,” Lyssa said, raising her weapon again. “He could be here now.”

  Rafe lowered his voice. “He could have burned this place down in minutes with that accelerant he uses. We’re damn lucky.”

  “I don’t like counting on luck,” Noah said. “How did he find us?”

  Another search of the surroundings and the interior, and he breathed somewhat easier.

  Th
ey secured all entries, including the damaged front porch, before returning inside.

  Lyssa stood above the victim’s body, still grasping her weapon, a guilt-ridden expression on her face. “Oh, Frederick. What have I done?”

  “Who is he?” Noah asked, kneeling beside the body. Archimedes had used an old French Foreign Legion loupe, a double coil of steel, to strangle Frederick. The wire had cut into his throat. Effective, quick and silent.

  “My first boss,” Lyssa said, her voice shaking.

  Noah glanced up at her. Her eyes flashed not with fear but with anger. He didn’t know which he preferred at this point. Anger caused mistakes; desperation made those mistakes even more likely.

  “He gave me a chance to be a translator at the United Nations right out of grad school,” she said. “He really believed in me.” She bit the corner of her lip, the pressure causing the edge to turn white. “It was my first permanent job, my first real home after moving constantly because of my father’s job at the State Department.”

  Sorrow laced her expression, but she shoved it away. Her grip squeezed the weapon even tighter. He had to admire her grit.

  “I haven’t seen him since I went into WitSec.”

  If only Noah could protect Lyssa from this latest dose of reality, but Archimedes left no room for shielding her from their situation’s true vulnerability. Noah’s only choice was to outsmart a killer who seemed to have the drop on them. At least for the moment.

  Noah studied the body. Archimedes had left the man’s shirt opened down the front to reveal his handiwork. A knife had sliced across the poor guy’s midsection. Noah eased back the material with the barrel of his gun.

  No infinity. Unusual.

  Archimedes had carved a different symbol into Frederick’s belly.

  The psycho had left a bar-shaped wound across his abdomen. Above the thin rectangle, he’d burned three geometrically perfect circles, the edges scorched. Even now, an odor of singed flesh lingered.

  “Looks like acid of some kind,” Noah said finally. “Elijah would be able to tell for sure. Send him some detailed photos and a sample.”

  “I don’t recall anything comparable in the Archimedes files we have,” Rafe said.